“What are you going to do with that?” Fu asked. “Lick me to death?”

Ying slipped his tongue back into his mouth and spat on the floor. He took a step toward Fu, and Fu roared. Every muscle in Fu's body began to shake.

Hok lifted his hand from Fu's shoulder and took a step back.

“Aren't you precious?” Ying scowled at Fu. “Purring like a little kitten. Would you like me to scratch behind your cute little ears?”

Fu could contain himself no longer. He sprang at Ying's throat with his teeth bared and arms outstretched. Ying dropped the qiang and repositioned himself to intercept Fu.

But Fu never reached Ying. Fu gasped and doubled over in midair as Grandmaster's narrow, bony shoulder struck him square in the diaphragm. Fu hit the ground flat on his back with a loud THUD, the wind completely knocked out of him. Grandmaster rolled over Fu's chest and whispered, “The pain you feel now is nothing compared to what you will feel if Ying gets his hands on you. You cannot defeat him alone. His kung fu is too powerful. This time you will listen to what I say! You will stay back! I will handle this.”

Fu wheezed and hacked as he sucked air, struggling to reclaim his breath for the second time that night. He nodded his head.

Grandmaster stood and spun around to face Ying.

Ying grinned. He bent down and picked up the qiang.

“My dear old man,” Ying said. “How could you be so cruel to that poor little kitten?”

Fu lifted himself onto his hands and knees. He glared at Ying.

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Grandmaster said nothing.

“If you ask me, I think that was precious,” Ying said. “It was almost worth him escaping my grasp to see the fearless giant of a tiger boy knocked down by a brittle old toothpick of a monk. Aaah … no matter, I'll snap his fat neck soon enough.”

Grandmaster remained silent.

“Oh, come now,” Ying said. “Your eldest prodigy has just returned after being gone nearly a year. Don't you have anything to say?”

“I am sorry I have failed you, Ying,” Grandmaster said. Fu thought he saw tears forming in Grandmaster's eyes.

“Oh, now you're sorry,” Ying said. “After I've destroyed nearly everything you care about—just like you've destroyed everything I care about. It's a little late to apologize, don't you think?”

Grandmaster said nothing.

Ying scowled. “You haven't changed one bit, old man. Somebody asks you a question, and you respond with a blank stare. Like a stupid child, as the Emperor would say. You know, you could have learned a thing or two from him last year, but you decided to leave his palace. Why?”

“Because our job was complete,” Grandmaster replied.

“Was it?” Ying said. “The Emperor asked us to stay and serve as his full-time protectors. He was going to pay us with gold. But you refused his generous offer. You even refused to accept the gold he offered as payment for what we had already done. Why?”

“We are monks, not bodyguards or warriors for hire,” Grandmaster replied.

“Then why did we go there in the first place?” Ying asked. “You made me and thirty other Cangzhen monks risk our lives to save him and his throne. One of us didn't make it back because of you! What was the point? What was our reward?”

“Your success was our reward,” Grandmaster said calmly.

“And what did we gain from that success?” Ying asked. “I know for a fact you do not approve of the Emperor.”

“This is true,” Grandmaster said. “But our efforts saved our region from someone far worse than the new Emperor.”

“Who are you to judge that one man is worse than another?” Ying shouted. “Your decisions are foolhardy! You should have taken the gold. Everything would be different if you had. My best friend would still be alive, and so would all your monks!”

Grandmaster said nothing.

“Fool! When I take that blank stare of yours to the Emperor with your head attached, my reward will be the title General. Then I will make all the decisions in this region you've secretly influenced for so long. What do you think of that, old man?”

Grandmaster stared back, silent.

Ying spat and turned to face Long.

“What do you think, Dragon Boy?”

Long paused, and Fu saw the same pity in his eyes that he saw in Grandmaster's. Long folded his hands as if in prayer and said, “Though I share your grief for the brother we lost, Ying, I think you disgust me.”

“My sincerest apologies for having turned your stomach, dear brother,” Ying replied sarcastically. “I realize my appearance is quite striking.”

“You misunderstand,” Long said, unfolding his hands. “It is your motivations that disgust me. Your appearance is simply ridiculous.”




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