by Monkey
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Malao asked. “Where's Fu?”
“He's back at the compound.” Seh stared up at the monk in the tree. “Who are you? Tell me your name. Now.”
The monk yawned and blinked several times. “Didn't they teach you any manners at Cangzhen?”
“Answer the question,” Seh said.
“Very well.” The monk sat up on the tree limb and leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs. “Most people call me Tsung. Welcome to Shaolin.”
Seh's eyes narrowed to slits. “Your name is Monk? What kind of name is that?”
Tsung cocked his head to one side and smirked. “Mandarin. Why?”
“I'm not in the mood for jokes,” Seh said. “Why would people call you Monk?”
“Because I am one,” Tsung said. “Do you find it surprising that you should find a man called Monk at a temple?”
“Don't play games with me,” Seh said. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don't know what you mean,” Tsung replied. “What were you expecting, a Cantonese animal name, perhaps? I'm from Shaolin, young man. Only Cangzhen monks have Cantonese animal names.” He paused. “Well, only certain Cangzhen monks. Ones with a certain, shall we say, history. But you already know that, don't you? I'm sure Mong told you all about it.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Seh said.
Malao looked at Seh. “Mong? Is he talking about the bandit leader? How does he know about the bandits?”
“I don't know,” Seh replied.
Tsung grinned at Malao. “So, you've heard of Mong? Don't you find it a strange coincidence that he has a Cantonese animal name, just like some of your brothers from Cangzhen? What was the name you mentioned a moment ago? Was it ‘Fu’? Tell me, little one, what's your name?”
Seh looked at Malao. “Don't answer him. I don't trust him.”
“You don't trust me?” Tsung said. “But you are from Cangzhen and I am from Shaolin. We are practically brothers.”
Seh didn't respond.
“Would it change your mind if you knew that I saved your sister's life?” Tsung asked.
Malao's eyes widened. He stared closely at Tsung and noticed a wound on one side of Tsung's face. It looked like a large bird had tried to peck his eye out.
“Hok!” Malao whispered to Seh. “He means Hok!”
“I know,” Seh replied. “I see his face.”
Malao punched Seh in the arm. “But he said our sister!”
“My ears work fine, too,” Seh said. “You know how pale and delicate Hok looks. He's just jumping to conclusions.”
Tsung grinned at Seh. “Am I?”
“Yes,” Seh said, looking sideways. “What happened to your face?”
Tsung rubbed the spot next to his eye. “Hok and I had a little … misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” Seh said. “Tell me what you know about Hok!”
“I know that she has a Cantonese name and fights like a crane,” Tsung said. “She arrived here on horseback before the attack, badly injured. She spent most of her time sleeping.” He paused. “She talks in her sleep, you know. I believe she mentioned you once or twice.”
Malao saw Seh's eyes narrow to slits.
“He's telling the truth, isn't he!” Malao said. He punched Seh again. “How long have you known that Hok is a girl?”
“I don't have time for gossip right now.”
“Gossip?!” Malao said. “I can't believe you! How come you never told me?”
“It was none of your business,” Seh replied.
“None of my business!” Malao said. “What else do you know that's ‘none of my business’?”
“That's enough!” Seh hissed. “We'll talk about this later.” He glared up at Tsung. “You said you saved Hok. Where is she now?”
“I wish I knew,” Tsung replied. “Even in her condition, she fought bravely during the attack. She managed to escape, but she was in very, very bad shape. I've been looking for her ever since. Unfortunately, I'm afraid she may have crawled into a hollow tree somewhere and … well … just never crawled back out. When I say that I'm the only monk to have escaped the attack alive, I am obviously not counting her. I've given up hope of finding her among the living.”
“What?” Malao said.
Seh seemed unconvinced. “Why should we believe you?” he asked.
“Because I've given you no reason to doubt me,” Tsung said. He looked at Malao and purred, “You believe me, don't you, little one?”
Malao paused and scratched his head. Something about Tsung's tone of voice suddenly seemed different.
“I'm sorry I keep calling you ‘little one,’” Tsung said. “I hope that doesn't offend you. If you would simply tell me your name …”
Malao twitched. He realized Tsung was talking to him in the same tone the bandit Hung had, right before Hung turned on him.
Malao covered his mouth with one hand and whispered to Seh, “I think we should get out of here—”
Tsung sprang out of the tree and slammed into Malao's chest. Malao found himself pinned to the ground with Tsung sitting on his midsection. Tsung grabbed the front of Malao's robe with one hand and formed a perfect leopard fist with the other. He brought his straightened fingers together and curled them down and in at the first two knuckles. Tsung cocked the fist back as Malao wiggled and squirmed.
Seh spun around and lashed out at Tsung's head with a powerful roundhouse kick. Malao's eyes widened when he saw Tsung duck the kick with plenty of time to spare.
Nobody is that fast, Malao thought.
Seh followed up with a lightning-quick side-kick. Again, Tsung dodged it easily. Only this time he twisted to one side and Malao's robe was yanked open. The two dragon scrolls Malao carried fell to the ground, along with the decorated stick.
“What's this?” Tsung said.
Malao reached for one scroll while Seh dove for the other.
In a series of movements so fast Malao barely saw them, Tsung snatched up both scrolls and raced back up the tree. Malao was left with nothing but a handful of dirt. Seh held nothing but air.
Tsung plopped down on the same limb and slipped one of the scrolls into his robe. He whipped open the other scroll. “Very interesting,” he said calmly.
Malao rubbed his eyes and stared up at Tsung. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. As he picked up his stick and returned it to the folds of his robe, Seh laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I think we're in trouble,” Seh whispered.
Malao nodded.
The sound of snapping branches caught Malao's attention and he turned to see Fu burst into the small clearing.
“What's going on here?” Fu demanded.
Tsung looked down at Fu. He shook his head and went back to reading the scroll.
Fu looked up at Tsung, then over at Seh. “Who is that guy?”
“He's a traitor,” Seh said, glaring up at Tsung. “He's responsible for the destruction of Shaolin.”
“What!” Fu roared. He looked up at Tsung. “Get down here, you coward! Fight like a— Hey! He's got one of the dragon scrolls!”
“Actually, he has both of mine,” Malao said.
Tsung looked up. “What was that? Both of yours?” Tsung stuffed the open scroll inside his robe and pulled his feet up onto the limb. He sat back on his haunches and turned toward Fu. “What secrets do you keep, big boy?”
Fu growled and tightened his sash. Malao saw every muscle in Fu's body begin to tense.
“Wait!” Malao said to Fu. “You don't understand. That guy—”
Tsung leaped out of the tree and hit Fu so fast, Fu didn't even have time to bring his hands up. A perfectly formed leopard fist struck Fu square in the left temple and Fu crumpled to the ground. Malao and Seh raced to Fu's side, but by the time they made the five steps it took to get there, Tsung had already reached into Fu's robe, removed the third scroll, and raced back up the tree.
Malao and Seh stared at each other in disbelief. Togethe
r they looked up at Tsung.
Tsung grinned and placed the third dragon scroll inside his robe with the other two. He yawned. “So, which one of you two would like to die first?”
Malao shuffled his feet, speechless for the first time ever. He looked at Seh. Seh's eyes narrowed.
A voice suddenly rang out from high in the trees behind Malao.
“Well, well. If it isn't Spot, the Emperor's favorite pet. I see you're out of uniform again.”
Seh looked at Malao. “Is that who I think it is?”
Malao took a deep breath. “Uh-huh.”
Malao whipped his head around and saw Ying perched high atop a dead oak.
Tsung looked over at Ying from atop the limb. “That's General Tsung to you, Lizard Boy. And I'll wear whatever I please, whenever I please. What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question,” Ying replied. “Where are your men?”
“They're off getting some well-deserved rest,” Tsung said. “Have you come to learn how a real man handles an attack on a warrior monk temple?”
Ying sneered and pointed to Malao, Seh, and Fu. “I came for the boys. I had no idea you planned to duplicate my attack on Cangzhen.”
“Duplicate?” Tsung said. “I destroyed all of my former brothers. It looks to me like a few of yours not only escaped, they managed to make off with some valuable documents.”
Ying scowled.
Tsung grinned. “Don't fret, young man. I'm here to help. Look.” Tsung removed the open scroll he had stuffed in his robe. He straightened it out and began to roll it up. “I have two more besides this one. You want them?”
“Yes—”
“Then come get them!” Tsung growled. He finished rolling the third scroll and returned it to his robe. He tightened his sash. “I've heard stories about your fighting skills, boy. People are starting to say that you are in the same league as me. Apparently, they need to be reminded that I am in a league of my own.”
Ying laughed. “You don't stand a chance, Spot.”
Tsung paused. He cocked his head to one side and stared off into the forest beyond Ying. “Are those your men I hear coming?”
“Yes,” Ying replied. “Are you going to scamper away?”
“Not at all,” Tsung purred. “I was hoping for an audience.”
THWACK!
Malao turned to see five armed soldiers hacking their way into the clearing with large machetes. They lined up beneath Ying.
“You men are just in time for the main event,” Ying said to the group. “Where are the others?”
“Fanning out over various sections of the Shaolin compound and surrounding area, sir,” one of the soldiers reported. “Commander Woo is determined to seal off all possible escape routes.”
“Excellent,” Ying said. He turned to face Tsung. “Is this a large enough audience for you?”
Tsung smiled and nodded.
Ying spat and spread his arms wide. “Then let the games begin!”
Ying swooped down from the tree and Tsung sprang into the air. They collided with an impact so powerful, Malao felt the percussion several paces away. Within moments, the fight reached a level of ferocity Malao had never imagined possible. Both combatants were out for blood. Malao noticed that Tsung was definitely faster, but Ying was much stronger. Ying never seemed to be able to connect solidly with Tsung, and Tsung's quick jabs had little or no effect on Ying. Malao knew it was going to be a long fight. He dropped to his knees, next to Fu.
Seh leaned over and whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to think of a way to wake Fu up so we can get out of here.”
“Good idea,” Seh said. “Listen, I just thought of a plan, but it doesn't involve you or Fu. If you see me get knocked down, don't try to wake me up. I'll be playing dead. Understand?”
Malao nodded.
“Hey!” one of the soldiers shouted, shaking his spear. “What are you two talking about?”
Seh stood and walked over to the man. “None of your business,” Seh said defiantly. He shoved the soldier hard.
“Why, you little—” The soldier lunged at Seh with his spear. Seh slid backward, easily avoiding the razor-sharp tip.
“You call that an attack?” Seh said with an arrogant laugh. “You fight like an old woman.”
“ARRRGH!” The soldier rushed forward, lunging with the spear again. Seh slid back farther this time, almost to the very center of the clearing. He stuck out his tongue and the soldier swung the spear at Seh's head. Malao knew Seh could have easily gotten out of the way in time, but he hesitated before ducking. The spear shaft glanced off the back of Seh's head and he slithered to the ground.
Malao giggled softly and glanced over at Ying and Tsung. They were still in the heat of battle. As Malao turned his attention back to Fu, he caught a glimpse of Ying swiping at Tsung's legs with his long toenails. That gave Malao an idea.
Fu was lying on his back, so Malao sat down on Fu's chest and placed one of his bare feet on each of Fu's chubby cheeks. Nothing happened. Determined to wake Fu, Malao began to slap Fu's cheeks with his smelly feet. Still nothing. Desperate, Malao brought his feet together and rested them both on top of Fu's mouth. He wiggled all ten toes directly under Fu's nose. Fu's whole body jerked violently. Fu's mouth slipped open and Malao felt Fu's tongue slide across the bottom of his feet.
Fu's eyes snapped open. He grabbed both of Malao's ankles and yanked Malao off his chest. “What are you doing?!” he shouted. He sat up and spat.
The entire line of soldiers began laughing. Fu stood, red-faced, and looked around. “What's going on?”
“You were knocked unconscious,” Malao said. “You wouldn't wake up and—”
“ARRRGH!”
Malao turned and saw Ying slam Tsung to the ground.
“Ying!” Fu said. “When did he get here?”
“Just now,” Malao said.
“But if he's here already, that means my father is probably …” Fu's voice trailed off.
Malao's eyes widened. “That doesn't mean anything, Fu! It's been ten days since we left the village. A lot could have happened since then. Maybe he's fine.”
“Or maybe he's dead!” Fu roared. He pointed at Ying and tensed every muscle in his body. “You're mine!”
Malao grabbed Fu's thick arm. “Fu, don't!”
Fu hesitated. He pointed to a pile of blue silk in the center of the clearing next to Ying and Tsung.
“Is that Seh?” Fu asked.
“Uhhh … yes,” Malao replied. “But—”
“Nobody does that to my family!” Fu roared.
“Fu, wait—”
Fu charged straight at Ying and Tsung. Malao watched with his mouth wide open.
Fu unleashed a mighty tiger-claw swipe at the back of Ying's neck. Ying must have sensed it coming because he leaped off to one side. Fu's powerful fingers slammed into the front of Tsung's shoulder and raked downward on an angle across Tsung's chest. Tsung's robe was torn open and all three dragon scrolls tumbled out.
Before the scrolls even hit the ground, Seh sat up, whipped his body around, and snatched the scrolls with both hands.
Ying shrieked and lunged toward Seh, but Fu spun around and planted a brutal snap kick square in the center of Ying's diaphragm. Ying doubled over and Tsung leaped onto Ying's back, wrapping his legs around Ying's midsection and his arms around Ying's neck. Malao saw Tsung twist his body powerfully to one side, hurling both himself and Ying to the ground.
“GO!” Seh shouted as he stood. He slipped off into a thick tangle of vines. Fu hesitated, then put his head down and barreled into the dense foliage after Seh.
“Get them!” one of the soldiers shouted.
“Wait!” another warned. “Look!”
Malao turned and saw Tsung latched on to Ying's back with an unorthodox choke hold. Malao had never seen anything like it before. Tsung's arms and legs were intertwined with Ying's, and Tsung's forearm was wedged tightly against Ying's throat. It wa
s without a doubt the most effective technique Malao had ever seen. Ying's face was red as a beet, and it looked like his head was about to explode. No matter how much Ying thrashed around, he couldn't shake Tsung. If Tsung didn't let up soon, Ying would be dead.
The soldiers began to close in and form a circle around Tsung and Ying. Malao made a break for the trees. With one powerful leap, he grabbed hold of a thick vine and swung toward freedom. When he was three trees into the forest, someone shouted, “STOP!”
Malao recognized that voice. It was Tonglong.
Malao stopped and spun around. He knew the shout wasn't meant for him, but he was curious nonetheless. He weaved his head back and forth until he had a clear line of sight into the clearing and waited. A moment later, Tonglong approached the circle of soldiers.
“Nobody touch them!” Tonglong said to the men. “Now back away!”
The soldiers backed away and Malao could clearly see Tsung still latched on to Ying's back. Tsung was panting heavily and his limbs shook from the pressure he was exerting on Ying. Ying's body had gone limp, but Tsung still held fast.
Tonglong drew his straight sword and rested the point against the side of Tsung's neck. “I suggest you let go, General Tsung. Immediately.”
“Go … away,” Tsung grunted. Sweat poured off his bald head like a waterfall.
“You have accomplished your goal, sir,” Tonglong said. “You challenged Ying, and now he's fallen to your hands. There is no need to kill him. Let go.”
Tsung didn't respond. He held on like an exhausted man desperately clinging to the edge of a cliff.
“I will count to three,” Tonglong said. “Release Major Ying, or die. One … two …”
Tsung let go and rolled off Ying. He tried to rise onto his hands and knees but collapsed. He didn't move again. Even from a distance, Malao could tell that Tsung had slipped into unconsciousness.
Tonglong knelt next to Ying, and the circle of soldiers began to close in around them.
“I told you men to back away!” Tonglong shouted. “Form a rank over there.” He pointed behind him.
Malao watched the soldiers scramble to arrange themselves in a straight line. As the men hurried about, Malao noticed Tonglong lean over Ying and discreetly slip his hand into the folds of Ying's robe. Tonglong quickly removed a scroll and slipped it into his own oversized sleeve.