A smile rose from the soldier's thin lips. “I will give you one more chance, monk. Lay down your weapons.”
Fu took a deep breath and attacked again. This time, he slashed low with both swords. The soldier jumped high over Fu's sweeping weapons, but Fu twisted both wrists up powerfully and continued his swing toward the airborne soldier. The soldier swung his sword down to protect himself.
As the soldier's straight sword met the hook swords, Fu twisted both wrists outward and pulled his arms apart, locking the hooks around the soldier's straight blade. Fu dropped to the ground and rolled 360 degrees on his side, ripping the straight sword from the soldier's grasp. As Fu flipped up onto his feet, he arched his back and released the pressure on the hooks slightly. The soldier's sword sailed onto the roof of the burning bathhouse.
The soldier stood before Fu, weaponless. He smiled again and adjusted his long braid.
“I've never seen that particular maneuver, monk. Very dangerous for you, yet most effective.”
“It's an original,” Fu growled.
“Excellent. Though you appear to be very young, you're already quite skilled. I'm impressed. It's a good thing I've come prepared.”
The soldier pulled a dagger from his sash and something fell to the ground. Fu realized that it was one of the dragon scrolls. The soldier saw the spark of recognition in Fu's eyes and nodded his head.
“If this document were not of the utmost importance, I might have considered giving it to you in exchange for an education in your unorthodox hook sword attacks. As it is, I cannot. My apologies.”
When the soldier bent over to retrieve the scroll, Fu attacked for the third time. The soldier leaped back with the scroll in one hand, his dagger in the other. Fu took a basic swing with one hook sword to test the man's reaction with the short knife. The soldier leaped backward again, this time landing awkwardly on the helmet Fu had removed from the dead soldier. Fu sprang forward, hitting his off-balance opponent square in the chest with a flying side kick. The soldier hit the ground flat on his back and Fu pounced, landing heavily on the man's chest. Fu's knees pinned the soldier's arms to the ground.
The soldier's dark eyes widened.
Fu swung both hook swords straight down in front of himself. The hooked ends of each blade dug deep into the earth on either side of the soldier's head, the hand-guard daggers stopping a hair's width above the soldier's throat. The soldier swallowed hard and his Adam's apple brushed against the very tip of one of the crescent-shaped daggers. A tiny stream of blood trickled down his neck.
The soldier looked Fu in the eye and said, “I admit defeat. Please, warrior monk—take the scrolls and leave me with my life. I will then owe you a life. On my honor, I will never forget the debt.”
Fu growled and thought how easy it would be to lean down upon the handles and release the man's spirit. But taking a life was far more difficult than he had imagined. The soldier offered not only what Fu sought but also a favor for the future. It seemed Fu would gain more by letting this man live than by destroying him.
“Close your eyes!” Fu snarled.
The soldier did as he was told.
As soon as the man's eyelids met, Fu gripped both hook-sword handles with his left hand and released his right. He bent his right arm sharply and leaned forward, swinging his elbow across his body, over the crisscrossed swords. The point of his elbow struck the soldier in the left temple, knocking the man out cold.
Fu took a deep breath and stood. He leaned the handles of the hook swords onto the man's chest, leaving the crescent daggers dangerously close to the man's neck. Then he yanked the man's thick braid out of his sash and removed three dragon scrolls. Fu took the fourth scroll from the soldier's limp hand.
Fu concealed the scrolls securely within the folds of his own robe and looked down at Sing's tiger hook swords still lying over the soldier's throat. Those hook swords were fine weapons, but they were very difficult to transport. Fu decided to leave them in their current position to help remind the soldier of his promise.
His mission accomplished, Fu ran for the main gate—and into the worst surprise of the entire night.
Fu stopped running just short of the main gate. Something didn't feel right. He stared through the smoky moonlight—up, down, forward, back, left, right.
Nothing.
Feeling like he had no time to waste, Fu took several steps backward, then shot forward. After six long strides, he was at top speed. On his seventh, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. By then, it was too late.
Someone dove out from behind one of the gates and smashed headlong into him. Together they tumbled into the grass, and Fu managed to break loose of the fierce grip on his robe only by biting his opponent's arm. Fu sprang to his feet, and his opponent did the same. It was Ying.