“I refuse to run!” Fu roared. “I will stay and fight! Let's take care of Ying now!”
“Fu, listen to me!” Grandmaster urged. “Ying and his men are too powerful. We monks are defenseless against their qiangs. One hundred Cangzhen deaths prove that.”
“What!” Fu cried. “No!”
“Hear me now!” Grandmaster said. “Hearts grow dark quickly in these times. Do not open your heart to this loss or it will fill you up. It will consume you. Let it go, Fu. Run, and don't look back.”
“I CAN'T!”
“You must! All of you must. You are all that is left. Now go! Seek out pure hearts and teach them the ways of Cangzhen. You will need help, for there is much work to be done.”
Grandmaster looked directly at Fu.
“Always remember, you represent Cangzhen. Do not accept any offers of violence—but do not accept any delivery of harm, either. Fight if you must, but only in defense. And respond with as little violence as possible. I ask that you honor me with that.”
Fu glared at Grandmaster. Grandmaster sighed and shook his head.
Suddenly Grandmaster's entire body stiffened and he turned toward the practice hall's entry. The smoke inside was much thicker now, and Fu could no longer see all the way to the entry doors. But he thought he heard something. Yes. It was faint and growing louder. It was the sound of … claws? Yes! Claws scraping steadily against the brick floor as something approached.
A tall, slender figure appeared, striding confidently forward. His head and shoulders were obscured by smoke, but Fu could see that he wore no armor. He held a qiang across his body with both hands and wore the formal uniform of the new Emperor: a red silk sash bound a green long-sleeve silk robe at the waist. Beneath, he wore red silk pants. All were blood-streaked.
As the intruder drew closer, Fu saw that his feet were bare. He had extraordinarily long toenails that curved savagely downward. Filed into sharp points, they scraped the brick floor like talons.
The man took a few more steps, and Fu saw black hair that was short and in disarray. Fu caught a glimpse of the stranger's intense eyes and contracted every muscle in his entire body, like a large cat ready to pounce.
But when his lost brother, Ying, was finally close enough to be seen in full, Fu shrank back on his haunches.
Sixteen-year-old Ying stopped several paces from Fu. His black eyes sparkled as Fu and the others stared.
Deep grooves had been chiseled into Ying's face and filled with dark green pigment. They resembled heavy folds of reptilian skin. Thick furrows stretched from the corners of Ying's mouth to the top of his jaw and horizontally across his forehead. Intricate scales had also been carved from ear to ear and hairline to chin. They too, were filled with pigment.
Ying curled back his lips, revealing perfect white teeth, each of which had been ground to a sharp point. Fu's eyes widened as Ying flicked his tongue forward. It was extraordinarily long and separated into two distinct segments at the tip. The right half flexed upward while the left half went down. Ying repeated the exercise in reverse before returning his forked tongue to its normal position. He laughed as Fu continued to stare.
Ying shifted the qiang in his hands. A glint of firelight reflected off the weapon's metal barrel, and Fu noticed that Ying's fingernails, like the nails on his grotesque, clawlike feet, were extraordinarily long and filed sharp. Bits of bloodstained flesh dangled from their tips. Fu looked at Grandmaster out of the corner of his eye and felt some of his initial shock begin to fade. Grandmaster was gazing at Ying through the thickening smoke with only pity in his eyes.
Ying cleared his throat and looked at Fu.
“Hello, boys,” he said casually. “Or should I say girls? I had a feeling you would all be hiding like a bunch of females.”
Fu locked eyes with Ying. He released a low growl.
“Stay calm, Sister Fu,” Ying said, smiling. “I won't bite. At least not just yet.”
Fu growled again and tensed his whole body in preparation for an attack. Hok drifted over to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Relax, Fu,” Hok said. “I understand your urge to attack. But you must resist. Ying is only throwing words at you, not daggers. He is up to something. I can feel it.”
“The birdbrain speaks!” Ying announced. “Fu, this must be serious. Hok rarely utters a peep. Maybe I really am up to something.”
“Who are you to call Hok birdbrain?” Fu snarled. “You're an eagle!”
“Do I look like an eagle to you?” Ying asked.
“You look like a fool,” Fu replied.
Ying opened his mouth wide and hissed at Fu. He flicked out his tongue and flexed its tip.