The soldier closed his eyes.
“Look at me!” Ying shrieked.
Quivering, the soldier opened one eye.
Ying cocked his right arm back and thrust an eagle-claw fist forward, his fingertips curled in tight against his palm. The soldier had enough sense to jump sideways and turn his head, but he was still too slow. Ying clipped the man behind the ear, and the soldier collapsed in a heap, out cold.
Ying heard Tonglong shout from the direction of the former fight club, “Surround the temple, men!”
A war cry erupted from several dozen soldiers, and Ying's carved eyebrows rose up. The men in the pit arena must have come up to ground level. He picked up the bundle of qiangs and began to run again. Ying reached the rear corner of the temple and rounded it at top speed.
He should have known better.
Ying felt something like a tree trunk slam into his shins, and his legs were suddenly swept out from under him. He twisted sideways as he fell and saw his former brother Long catch him by the collar.
Ying's legs and hip slammed to the ground hard enough to rattle his teeth. However, the rest of his body remained upright, held firm in Long's powerful grasp.
Ying hadn't run into a tree. Long had kicked his feet out from under him.
Ying snarled.
Long cocked his left arm back and formed a fist. He raised the oversized knuckle of his middle finger up, supported the finger with his thumb, and poised it to slam into Ying's face. A dragon fist.
“Don't make me use this,” Long whispered. “Grab your bundle and follow me. Hurry, if you value your life.”
Long released Ying's collar and headed toward an open doorway at the rear of the temple.
Tonglong began to shout from the front of the temple, “Spread out, men! We have him right where we want him!”
Ying heard boots coming his way. He grabbed the qiangs and slipped inside the doorway after Long.
Long silently closed the door behind Ying and bolted it shut. They were in a large room, dimly lit by the setting sun peeking in through gaps where the building's outer walls met the roofline. Long signaled for Ying to follow him through the shadows.
“Why are you helping me?” Ying whispered.
Long didn't reply. He just turned and walked away.
Ying scowled. He wanted to smash Long for his quiet arrogance. However, Ying knew that he had to keep his temper in check. At least, for now. He followed patiently behind Long, carefully scanning the room.
Ying had been inside the Jinan City Temple before, but never this particular area. All around them were stacks of dusty mismatched items—a statue arm here, a broken incense urn there. When they were well clear of the door, Ying tried another question. He kept his tone as even as possible and his voice low.
“Where are we?”
This time, Long answered. “We're in the back room where the temple-keepers store their junk. There is a secret tunnel that leads here from the fight club. The temple-keepers don't even know about it.”
Long headed over to a small rug and kicked it aside. He ran the fingers of one hand along a narrow floorboard and pressed down on one end. That end of the board sank downward, while the opposite end popped up.
Ying watched as Long lifted a trapdoor.
“You go first,” Long whispered.
Ying looked into the narrow hole and saw a flimsy bamboo ladder. A small lantern flickered on the ground next to it.
“Hurry,” Long said, his eyes now pleading.
Ying placed the bundle of qiangs next to the hole and climbed down. Once he reached the bottom, Long handed him the qiangs and came down himself, repositioning the rug above them as he closed the trapdoor.
Ying took a step back, gripping the chain whip around his waist. It seemed Long had no intention of harming him, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Long picked up the lantern, hunched over, and headed into a low, narrow tunnel.
Ying hoisted the qiangs over his shoulder and followed, hunched over, until they came to a small underground room. Long placed the lantern on a makeshift shelf, and Ying saw that the entire room was filled with trinkets, much like the back room of the temple.
“LaoShu made this tunnel so that he could secretly steal items from the temple,” Long said. “He sent me there many times. He and I were the only people who knew about this tunnel and storeroom. Now that he is gone, you should be safe here.”
Ying looked around. The room and tunnel were simply constructed, probably dug by fight club prisoners who would have never survived their very next trip into the pit arena. No witnesses.
Ying turned to Long and wondered again why Long was doing this. He stared his former brother in the eye, and Long spoke as if reading his mind.
“I heard that you were seen leaving the burning fight club with Hok, Seh, Fu, and Malao,” Long said. “You saved all four of them. I felt I should return the favor.”