Overhearing Captain Yue's words, the Drunkard went on a major offensive. He lunged at a soldier holding a spear and removed it cleanly from the surprised man's hands. Then he started swinging. The Drunkard feinted north and struck south. He feinted east and struck west. He spun the spear before him like a windmill and soldiers dropped around him like raindrops. Fu could only see bits and pieces of the Drunkard in action, but he was impressed with what he saw. The Drunkard fought like a warrior monk. Fu thought perhaps the Drunkard really had trained at Shaolin—before he fell into the wine barrel.
Seeing the Drunkard's skill, the soldiers surrounding the cage started to hurry. Several men helped Captain Yue, while the others grabbed the cage. The cage had been lashed to two long poles along the bottom so that it could be carried like a sedan chair. The poles stretched out far beyond the front and back of the cage, which meant that the soldiers who picked Fu up were beyond his reach.
Fu flew into a rage. He threw his body first to one side of the cage, then the other in an effort to smash through the bars … or throw the carriers off balance … or something! He had to do something! But it was no use. The men were strong, and so was the bamboo. Defeated, Fu could only watch as he was carried to the edge of the square, toward a trail that led deep into the forest. Fu let out a desperate cry. And for once, someone listened.
The Drunkard looked up, his eyes locking on Fu's. Something stirred deep in Fu's heart. Fu froze, paralyzed by a feeling he had never known. The Drunkard froze, too. Something powerful passed between them and the Drunkard roared. Fu saw a soldier grab hold of the Drunkard's tattered robe, and with one mighty swipe, the Drunkard crushed the man's shoulder. The Drunkard leaped toward Fu, leaving just one soldier standing. A soldier with a qiang.
Across the square, Ma tensed in the arms of the village men still holding him back. As the soldier raised the qiang, Ma squatted into a Horse Stance and lashed out with his right leg, striking one of his captors square in the knee. The village man cried out and released his grip on Ma. Ma tore free of the other two sets of hands and raced across the square, screaming at the top of his lungs.
The soldier with the qiang hesitated. He looked at the wild boy racing toward him, then looked at the Drunkard racing away from him. He lined the qiang up with the center of the Drunkard's back and pulled the trigger.
There was a slight pause before the gunpowder ignited. It was during this pause that Ma smashed into the soldier. The end of the qiang swung downward, and the powder exploded. Five steps from the cage, the Drunkard cried out, stumbling forward. He reached out toward Fu, then fell to the ground.
Fu watched helplessly as his cage was swallowed by the overgrown trail.
Fu swayed from side to side as the caravan of soldiers pushed forward on the narrow trail. It was the middle of the day, but Fu's world was dark. Captain Yue had ordered his men to cover Fu's cage with several blankets, like a shade for a birdcage. At the head of the caravan, Captain Yue sat high in a sedan chair behind a shade of his own. His, however, was made of silk. As Captain Yue and Fu rode along behind their separate shrouds, they both thought about the exact same thing: pain. The pain Captain Yue felt seeped from the outside in as a result of the injury to his leg. Fu's, however, oozed from the inside out. Out from someplace deep down in his heart. Fu was alone. More alone than he had ever been in his entire life. The look in the Drunkard's eyes had shown him that. Their connection was brief, but powerful. In that instant, Fu knew the Drunkard cared for him. Deeply. He could feel it. He didn't question it. But he did question why the Drunkard felt that way. The Drunkard was a complete stranger, yet he had risked his life for him. In fact, he may have even lost his life for him. Fu had heard the Drunkard cry out and seen him fall. The way Fu's luck worked, the Drunkard was probably dead. It would only make sense. Fu had already been abandoned by everyone else in his life. Why not the Drunkard, too?
Fu sighed. The tiger cub had left him and so had his brothers. True, Grandmaster had told him and his brothers to separate and run, but his brothers didn't have to do it. They could have stayed and done something. He did. He would have been more successful if he had had some help. But, instead, they had left him to do it all himself. Alone.
The cage suddenly jerked to a stop, and Fu bumped his bald head against the bamboo bars.
“Stupid—” Fu began to say.
“HALT!” a stranger's voice commanded from somewhere up the trail. “Who goes there?”
Captain Yue cleared his throat. “It is I—Captain Yue of Major Ying's army!” he announced. “Who dares to stand on the trail before my caravan, commanding me to halt?”
The stranger up the trail laughed. “Who am I? I am Commander Woo, you arrogant snob. If you would stick your pointed head out from behind your precious silk curtains and take a look, you would see for yourself.”