A Different Lesson

by nievelion

The very day after his defeat by the Dragon Warrior, a battered and injured Tai Lung is taken in by Master Shifu. Several of the Five, most notably Tigress, think he is out of his mind, while Po has faith in his enemy. Can a father undo his past mistakes?

37. Chapter 37: Through a Glass Darkly

(Sorry about the very late posting. I've been losing a lot of writing time lately thanks to my job constantly asking me to stay and work longer hours. But I finally got it done!)

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By the time he reached the rear door of Ping's noodle shop, it was only an hour or so after noon, but Crane was afraid that was already too much time lost—time which could have been spent defending Tai Lung, testifying as to his own personal knowledge of the Wu Sisters, or searching the scrolls for some evidence of Heian Chao's existence. In fact the waterfowl had begun very strongly to regret not flying to Wu Dan to tell the others of what was occurring—not only could Po and Tigress be extremely useful in standing up for the snow leopard, but if Zhuang had died in his kitchen, surely Mr. Ping, too, could testify on Tai Lung's behalf?

It was too late for such second-guessing and self-recrimination now, though; what was done, was done, his choice had been made and could not be unmade, and wasting time bemoaning the mistakes of the past would surely guarantee his failure in the future. The goose was not here, and neither were the Dragon Warrior or the leader of the Four; there was only him. Not that he doubted Mei Ling's skills or Shifu's determination to save his son, but they didn't know what he'd learned from Yi, nor had either of them bothered to check for any further clues and evidence.

He had no way of knowing if there was even anything to find…but if there was, and if it was the only thing that could save Tai Lung, he was honor bound to try.

Sighing heavily, Crane approached the wooden door, which he saw was held propped shut by an angled plank since the latch had been broken open—by the look of it, by some sort of slender, bladed weapon. He scanned the cobblestoned street and the patch of flowered grass surrounding the foundations of the restaurant for anything out of the ordinary, anything which one of the sisters might have inadvertently left behind which would prove they were there and the ex-convict was not. He had just decided, to his frustration, that there was nothing to find and had just removed the board so as to open the door when a voice suddenly spoke from behind him.

"And just what do you think you're doing in Ping's shop, sonny? The place is closed, didn't you know? And if what they say about poor Zhuang is true, then who knows when or if Ping is even coming back…"

Whirling about, the avian kung fu master spied a middle-aged goat standing in the middle of the street, hooves planted on his hips and a querulous look on his bearded face. It took him several moments to realize he knew the fellow, if only vaguely, several more to recall his name. "Master Ning? What are you doing here?"

Ning Guo the apothecary—a well-known staple of the Valley for many a year, a resident that some people and families saw even more often than the local doctor, and an old friend of Oogway's—raised an eyebrow sardonically. "I could ask you the same question, Master Crane. I just came to check up on my old friend Ping, haven't heard from him in a while and I was starting to get worried. I'm surprised you're here, though, and not off seeing whatever this hullabaloo is all about."

"I…I would be, but…but I need to find something." Cursing his hesitancy and uncertainty that made him sound guilty and with something to hide, he quickly cleared his throat and stood up straight. "Tai Lung's trial is going on as we speak, and I have reason to believe something which could help prove his innocence might be in the restaurant kitchen. I'm friends with Po, Ping's son, so I'm sure he won't mind if I have a look around." There. Much better.

Indeed, while the goat did still look a little skeptical, neither did he seem as suspicious and distrusting either. And as what Crane had said seemed to sink in, his expression changed completely to one of puzzlement, confusion—and then, inexplicably, concern. "Tai Lung. You don't mean the snow leopard? Big fella, heavy-set brows, mustache, upper-class accent?"

Crane was surprised on several levels—that Ning wouldn't have recognized the ex-convict on sight (could he have been out of town during the rampage twenty years ago? Or not even lived here then?), that he nevertheless seemed familiar with his features, and that the goat also appeared to be bothered by the prospect of the snow leopard being on trial. "Yes, of course! Why do you ask?"

"Well, because that just isn't possible," the apothecary said calmly, easily. "What is he accused of?"

"Killing Shen Zhuang, last night." He winced at having to say the words.

Ning's expression, if anything, became more firm and resolved, even a tad angry. "Then putting him on trial for it isn't just wrong, it's ridiculous. He couldn't have done it, he was at my shop, getting birth control herbs."

Crane almost choked on that—he'd only just learned, to his chagrin, that Tai Lung and Tigress were an item, and now he was expected to be perfectly sanguine with both of them indulging in…? Damn, they moved fast, didn't they? And I do not want to think about Tigress that way. Or, gods, Tai Lung…

Forcing such unwelcome thoughts and images out of his mind, he instead focused, quite sharply, on the shopkeeper's words. "Wait—is that true? Really?" Ning nodded sagely. "And—and you'd be willing to testify to that before the magistrate?"

The goat paused, looking a little frightened. "I…don't know…" Crane couldn't blame him for being wary: one of the more disturbing practices in the courtrooms of old was that any witness who offered their testimony in defense of an accused criminal, especially for a case of such severity as murder, could end up suffering his fate—torture, at the very least. And considering what Yi had seen out the window, how Chao's dark chi seemed to be influencing and corrupting everyone in the Valley, it wouldn't surprise him in the least if Fu Xiao and the other officials reinstated such cruel, unjust practices. Xiulan would likely have insisted upon it…

Unable to afford any more time wasted while Ning dithered, Crane reached out, snatched him by the arm, and dragged him toward the door of the restaurant. "C'mon, you can decide while we're looking…I need clear-cut, hard evidence that'll stand the light of day. With the way things are now, I don't think even your word will be enough by itself…"

Before the goat could protest, the waterfowl had turned back to face Ping's shop—the door had swung open all by itself as its own weight made it creak and swing outward, leaving a dark and unnerving hole to the interior. But he didn't hesitate, rushing inside anyway.

The kitchen of the noodle shop was oddly cold and forlorn compared to the usual bustle and clatter it should have had at this time of day. No dishes were prepared, no food was bubbling and churning over the fire—in fact the remnants of the dinner Ping had been making for the bovine couple were still left where they'd been abandoned, now stone-cold and rank as they attracted flies in the warm, still air. Out the window of the service hatch, Crane could see the dishes and utensils still lying on the lone table, along with the single candle in its ceramic holder, now burned down to the base with the wax melted and re-hardened in a drooping, misshapen lump around it. Obviously nothing had been done about the mess by those who had been understandably more concerned about the crime which had been committed here.

Zhuang's body, of course, was no longer present; it had surely already been placed elsewhere for proper preparation before it would be displayed in the bull's house for his family and the community to view. But Crane could easily see where it had lain, as the area was not only surrounded by piles of cutlery, pots and pans, and other items that had fallen during the struggle…but by a very large, dark stain which had soaked into the stone floor, so deeply he didn't know if even a thorough scrubbing would ever remove it. Staring at this evidence which brought home to him, in a truly realistic way that no words ever could, what had happened, the avian removed his hat and bowed his head in sorrow.

When he had thus paid his respects, he at once began to search for anything out of the ordinary, anything unusual at all. While he confined his investigation to the kitchen for the most part, he knew he might need to look elsewhere too—surely the Wu Sisters would also have cased the entire building, whether to locate information about Po and his father or simply to be aware of all entrances and exits. And so anything they might have inadvertently left behind could be anywhere, really.

Pausing in the doorway of the panda's room, Crane couldn't help but gaze about a bit fondly at the Dragon Warrior's cherished possessions: beautifully crafted silkscreen paintings of the Furious Five, all of their action figures perched on the window sill (along with Tai Lung's, which inspired a quick double-take), and the throwing stars he'd used for target practice still stuck in one wall. Po truly was the most avid fan of kung fu, in fact he seemed to be more devoted to it, respectful of it, and aware of what it truly meant and stood for than anyone else in the Valley of Peace.

It warmed his heart considerably…but after eyeing all this for a few moments, Crane couldn't help but feel his fury and determination flaring anew—for he knew there was a terrible, depraved, sadistic madman out there who had hired the Wu Sisters to kill this very kind-hearted, heroic soul…and it was thanks to them and Chao that Tai Lung himself was now in just as much danger.

Hurrying down the short hall to Ping's bedroom, he glanced around perfunctorily and saw that nothing seemed to be amiss or out-of-order. He had just opened the bottom drawer of a dresser that had been partially out of its seating, and was peering down in some interest at a folded length of gold silk that looked far too expensive (and aged) to be something a simple noodle-making goose should own, when a cry from the floor below got his attention. "Master Crane! I think you should perhaps come and have a look at this…"

Rushing downstairs, the avian at once discovered Master Ning standing beside the oven, peering down in vindication at something on the floor while he leaned idly on his walking stick. When Crane appeared at his side, the goat lifted his stick and pointed to something spilled across the stone between the oven and one of the low tables where Ping prepared his noodles. Almost hidden by a large pot, and not very far from the place where Zhuang had fallen, was a collection of leaves, stems, and crushed flower petals, spilling out of what was clearly the torn remnants of a cloth sack.

"That," Ning said, when Crane looked up at him in some curiosity, "would be the herbs I sold your feline friend. So that means he was here after all. But if he had them with him, then it was after he came to visit me…which means he would have been on his way to the palace. That's the opposite direction from Ping's." He stirred the herbs with his cane, then grunted in satisfaction. "No blood. Yet it's all over the floor. Which means…"

"Which means," Crane interrupted him excitedly, "the herbs must have been spilled after Zhuang was killed. Like, when Tai Lung came here to investigate and got arrested instead! This is very critical evidence, thank you! I…I'll have to put it in something, to take to the trial…"

Ning pointed again, this time at the bird's side. "Why don't you use that? A bit much, but beggars can't be choosers."

Glancing down, the waterfowl saw that in his haste to answer the apothecary's summons, he'd brought the gold silk from Ping's bedroom with him. Shrugging philosophically, he bent down on the floor and quickly tied the silk into a bundle, into which he began sweeping the herbs with one wing. As he did so, he noticed a few characters in hanzi stitched into one corner of the cloth and frowned to himself. Jiangxi? Funny…isn't that where Master Shifu said Tigress came from, before Bao Gu…?

He'd just finished gathering the medicine into the bundle and tied it loosely shut when he saw it: beneath the table, shoved into the corner nearest to and partly under the oven's stone base, another piece of crumpled cloth. This one much more likely to have been found in the noodle shop, since it was clearly of peasant make…and, he saw as he abruptly held his breath, not far at all from the edge of the bloodstains. Therefore, not far from where Zhuang's hand had likely fallen.

Slowly, being careful not to pull too hard and thus tear precious evidence, he drew the cloth out from its hiding place. At once he recognized what it was, where it had come from…and when he opened it up and smoothed out the wrinkles, he gasped.

"This…this is exactly what I was looking for! I—I've got to get to the trial, now, before it's too late!" Gods bless you, Zhuang. Even in death you were able to help us. Crane turned toward the back door again, then paused to peer pointedly at Ning. "You coming?"

For several agonizing moments the goat looked fretful and torn. Then, seemingly coming to a decision, he slammed his stick down into the floor with a sharp report and nodded, striding toward the bird's side with the carriage and posture of a much younger man. "I'm old enough, I've had a good life…and this is too important to leave up to that busybody Fu. Besides…it's about doing what's right."

Crane didn't know if Ning had not witnessed the rampage at all, if he were one of those who, like Zhuang, had come to forgive the snow leopard and believe it was better for everyone to move on and put the past behind them, or if he simply followed justice no matter for whose sake it was applied. But he didn't care, he'd found what he was looking for and even more, and as long as he had even one witness willing to corroborate his story, who wasn't under Chao's thrall and believed in defending Tai Lung…well, he just might be able to finally make a difference.

"Good. Come on then, let's go." And he shoved the door open again with his shoulder, leading the way for the apothecary to follow him into the street, heading in the direction of the village's central square.

---

Although after the number Viper had done on her, Chun was just about as incapacitated as her sisters, Po was taking no chances, and so soon enough she too had been laid out with the other assassins, her body numb and limp thanks to the nerve strikes he'd applied to it. Once that was out of the way, though, the next immediate order of business had been to fetch his father.

Taking one of Xiu's own daggers with a grim sort of irony, the panda skirted the edge of the chi-boiling pool until he was beneath the boughs of the beech tree. There he gently and lovingly grasped the dangling goose close, holding him in the crook of his arm as he sawed and slashed through the rope holding Ping in place. Once the fibers parted, he hurriedly cradled the noodle-maker in his arms…not only was he still breathing, but his eyes fluttered and he began to stir as Po carried him back around the pool to where Tigress and Viper waited with their prisoners. "Po…Po, is that you…?"

Letting out a huge, explosive sigh of relief, the panda couldn't keep the tears from welling up. "Dad…oh gods, I was so afraid you'd—yeah, it's me! I…I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but it's okay now, I saved you." He swallowed against a lump in his throat. "I stopped the Wu Sisters, they aren't ever gonna hurt you again. I promise."

He didn't know what he would have done if his father really had died. It didn't matter they weren't related by blood. Ping was the only family he had, that he'd ever known. Many would not have taken in and adopted an orphan as their own, especially not someone of a completely different species—one which would become much, much larger, and which for all their usual gentle attitude were still predators. But Ping had…and while Po knew he now had a whole group of kung fu warriors as his close friends and a surrogate family of sorts, it just wasn't the same.

If he had lost his father…well, at the very least, he'd have sunk into a grief-stricken depression, maybe turned into a violent vigilante seeking revenge. He might even have fallen into the same mindless ferocity as Tai Lung had when denied the Dragon Scroll. Maybe Xiu had been right to compare them after all.

Thankfully, he'd never have to know now what might have happened. But just thinking about the possibilities made him shiver—especially when he recalled how close he'd come to losing control, there while fighting Xiu…

As he was walking, Po tried to finish untying the ropes which bound Ping, but between the awkwardness of doing so while carrying him, the tight and intricate knots, and his own thick fingers, he found it to be an infuriatingly impossible task. Luckily Tigress came to his rescue, as soon enough her claws had severed the hemp and allowed him to slip the goose free of the last of the harness. Half-sitting up, he fluttered his wings a bit feebly at Po's arm as the panda flopped down on his rump beside Jia and crossed his legs. "Oh, Po…oh, my big, brave kung fu warrior…I knew you'd come eventually. Never doubted you for a second…"

They shared a brief but intense hug, while the panda wept soft tears of joy on Ping's shoulder, and then he quickly checked his father for any injuries. Other than a little abrasion around his neck and under his wings from the ropes, he seemed to be all right, so Po felt it safe to pause and look up to the others. "Hey…first of all, I wanted to say…thanks, guys. I couldn't have done this without you."

"What are you talking about?" Viper burst out. "You were amazing out there!"

"It's true," Tigress admitted, and rather than sounding grudging or annoyed, she seemed quite proud and pleased. "It seems you learned a great deal from everyone—especially Tai Lung."

Po felt his face turn red, but he swiftly tried to brush it aside anyway. "What? That? Naw, that was—that was nothing! Anyway, I wouldn't have had the chance t' do what I did, if you two hadn't kept 'em distracted an' stuff. It was a team effort, an' that's just what I'm gonna tell everyone when we get back to th' Valley."

It wasn't that he didn't know or wish to acknowledge how much he'd improved, that he really was shaping up to be a skilled and versatile kung fu warrior. He simply wanted to give credit where it was due. There being three of them had really made all this possible, so that none of the sisters could gang up on him the way they had before…and he couldn't count how many moves he'd learned and implemented thanks to Tigress…

"Speaking of gettin' back…we really should, you know." He bit his lip, glanced aside at the sisters, then continued. "If—if what Xiu said was true, an' Tai's on trial for killin' Zhuang…"

The stricken look on both their faces mirrored his own, he was sure. He couldn't help himself—as he thought of the brave, kind, easygoing bull who had helped them fix the palace, who had loved his cooking, whose friendship had been so important to Tai Lung, and who had now left behind a little daughter to live on without him…the tears were soon pouring down his cheeks. What truly surprised him, as he sniffled and tried to wipe them away, was to see Tigress's own eyes were wet and gleaming too. Showin' emotion…maybe there's hope for her yet…

As the striped feline knelt beside him and put a paw on his, and Viper slithered over to wrap her tail comfortingly around both of them, Ping sat up the rest of the way and reached out to rest a wing on Po's chest. "Wh-what? Tai Lung kill Zhuang? That doesn't make any sense! I was there, I saw it all, it was the oldest Wu Sister, the one with blue eyes…Tai Lung, he wouldn't hurt a fly, not anymore…"

Tigress inhaled sharply, then leaned in close. "Are you sure? Could you tell everyone that back in the village?"

Ping blinked at her, nonplussed, and opened his bill to speak, but before he could Po cut across him. "Uh, Tigress…maybe it's just me, but I don't really think my dad's in any condition to fly, and there's no way you could get him back there any faster. Besides, you guys are injured and need treatin', an' the quicker you get back to help Tai, the better." Of course, he had another reason to keep Ping here, but he wasn't about to tell them that.

"What are you suggesting?" the striped feline asked, by the sound of her voice barely restraining her impatience and displeasure.

"That you two go on ahead, run back to the Valley as fast as you can, and tell them what my dad said—as well as whatever else you can think of to clear Tai's name. I'll follow ya in time."

Viper glanced down at the prone forms of the three assassins, a look of clear repugnance and rejection on her face. "And what about them? We can't just leave them here, much as I'd like to."

He paused, then shrugged. "I'll bring 'em back with me. They're harmless now, they don't weigh too much, an' I'm strong." He managed to say this last without sounding like he was bragging, which made him feel rather good about himself.

For a moment the two female kung fu masters looked uncertainly at each other, but then apparently their concern over Tai Lung won out over the admittedly small worry of anything happening to the panda while they were away. Because without further ado, the striped feline scooped up the serpent and placed her atop her shoulders, wrapped loosely around the back of her neck, and then performed as deep and respectful a bow as she could under the circumstances. "All right…Master Po. We'll see you back in the Valley."

Even as he was still flushing in embarrassment (but inwardly tickled pink at this high praise), Tigress turned, got down on all fours, and sprinted with astonishing speed across the field toward the ledge that led back to the valley, not even breaking her stride despite the fact he knew she had to have been injured significantly by Xiu. In seconds, she and Viper were out of sight, the latter with one last forlorn look at him.

Waiting a few moments…then a few minutes more, until he had spied the leader of the Four on the ledge and disappearing from view down the mountain trail…until he was sure he was alone and unobserved, Po at last got back to his feet and tenderly set his father down, propped up against the boulder. As he did so, the goose looked up at him worriedly. "Son? What's going on? I thought you said we were going back…?"

"We are. There's just…somethin' I gotta do first." Or try, anyway. The idea had come to him after the heat of battle had faded, as he was moving to untie Ping and had gazed down into the darkened, fetid waters of the Sacred Pool. He didn't know if it would work; he didn't even know how to do it, if it was possible. But he had to make the attempt. Shifu had said that one of the natural abilities of water—and therefore, he hoped, of one who had influence over it through elemental chi—was to cleanse and purify.

The corruption and tainting of the pool by Chao must have been geared, in some way, toward helping him extend his influence over the entire Valley…in which case, if Tigress and the others were to have any chance to sway the magistrate in Tai Lung's case, then the pool had to be purified. Even if this weren't the case, he couldn't in good conscience leave it like this, this blessed and holy birthplace of kung fu, one of the last ties any of them had to Oogway. And restoring it would break Chao's power, give them a chance to find him and bring him down before he tried something even worse.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Po crossed back over to the shores of the pool, eyeing the waters warily, fearfully. This close he could both see and smell how sickened and blackened it had become, and it almost made him lose his last meal to stare down into the Sacred Pool. What a perverse and ironic name that now seemed, as he gazed into the ebony waters caught in the mid-afternoon sunlight…the formerly still and placid surface now a rushing, churning flow of poison that steamed and boiled as it rose from the depths of the wellspring, not a sign of the purity and sanctity he had seen not a month ago, everything dark, lifeless, and impenetrable within it. All around, the skeletons of lifeless animal husks, the dissolved dust that had once been lively grass, and barren soil which looked incapable of ever producing life again surrounded the pool, while the stench of Heian Chao hung over all.

Stopping at the edge of the drop-off, the panda knelt down as close as he dared to the tainted waters—and then, after taking another deep breath, this time to center himself and focus all the energies of his chi into this monumental task, the Dragon Warrior closed his eyes…set his jaw…and extended both paws out over the water, pouring every ounce of his will into the pool. C'mon…this isn't natural and you know it…purge it…get it out, just like draining a snake bite…sorry Viper…go back to what you used to be, I know you can…use my strength if you have to, I got plenty t' spare…please…

To his utter shame, however, absolutely nothing happened. He could feel waves of heat in the air, and when he dared to crack an eye open and take a peek, he saw golden shimmers between his paws and the water—which was stirring and whirling faster and more wildly, hissing and spitting like a living thing, though whether it was attempting to respond or was fighting him, he couldn't tell. What was clear, after several moments, was that the surface of the pool remained as black and foul as ever, and he could not feel any sign that the disturbing layer of evil atop it—like the curdled skin which formed on heated milk—was on the verge of splitting and dissolving.

Sighing and lowering his paws, Po frowned like a thunderhead, furrowing his brows severely and resting his chin on his knuckles as he thought fiercely. Finally, after several puzzled, feverish moments, he realized, with a definite sensation of idiocy, what was wrong: I'm not a mage, like Heian Chao. I can't just wave a paw an' will things t' happen. I've got elemental chi, but I'm still a kung fu warrior. I gotta pour my chi into that!

Nodding decisively, he clambered back to his feet, smacked his paws together firmly, and bowed toward first the pool, then the river. Then with a long, shallow inhalation that drew in all the life-energy around him, and an equally long exhalation that expelled his own chi into the air, the panda planted his feet solidly…bent one knee and angled his right leg forward…then let out a kiai as he thrust out with both paws in a two-palm strike.

Instantly, the waters of the river obeyed his will, rushing out of their banks to flow across the field toward him—and the Pool of Sacred Tears—in an endless wave that only surged higher, thicker, and stronger the more he directed every ounce of his spirit into it. As it neared his side, the glittering, crystalline water suddenly dipped down and flattened out like a shelf of rock, slipping beneath his feet and scooping him out of the grass…but though part of him longed to panic, he kept himself focused on the training Master Shifu, and then Tai Lung, had instilled in him.

Slowly at first, then with increasing confidence, he put himself through the tai chi stances—and with each twist of his body, planting of his feet, and angling of his paws, the water beneath him obeyed his commands, encircling the pool and flowing around it in a gradually increasing spiral, like a whirlpool in slow motion. As he began to apply the more rigorous and violent motions of kung fu instead—Tiger Fist, Dragon Kick, Mantis Strike, and Tai Lung's own signature moves—the water moved faster, spreading out beneath him like gigantic wings overshadowing the plateau.

And as his chi infused it, it began to glow brighter, brighter—bright blue becoming paler, lighter, then a shining white, and finally a blazing silver fire, while within the area circumscribed by the waterspout he'd formed the air and land both began to burn with gleaming gold.

He didn't know how he was doing it; he just knew that it felt right, and that as Shifu had taught him, he had to give into this emotion and follow his heart wherever it led him. Cresting atop the splashing, rippling plane of water nearly ten feet above the pool, the Dragon Warrior gazed down at its Stygian depths with determination and tenacity—then abruptly punched downward with Tai Lung's Leopard Claw.

The water he rode followed his directive, gushing downward as if suddenly released from behind a dam, and as it struck the surface of the pool, a flash of light as bright and fiery as the sun exploded upward from the bottom of the spring—like a liquid beam of moonshine, spearing straight upward to disappear into the dark clouds gathering high above Wu Dan and the Valley. In that same instant, the whole mountainside shook as if a great bell had been struck—in fact, dimly he thought he heard the actual morning bell clattering and clanging on its hilltop—and the same silvery light seemed to touch the clouds…infusing them…lightening their dirty gray into pristine white.

Below, the taint of Heian Chao was forced upward in a column by the endless cascade of silver, chi-laden waters, and once trapped within its snare it began to steam and dissolve away…its darkness and poison dissipating utterly—into nothing, into the spirit world, he neither knew nor cared. All he focused on was sending every drop of goodness and kindness he could think of into his chi, into the corrupted pool, into the water he rode upon:

The love of his father; Viper's gentle sweetness; the peace he had brought to Master Shifu; Zhuang's generosity; Yi's innocence; the respect and admiration he'd earned from Tigress at last; and above all, the undeniable courage Tai Lung possessed, as well as the true, enduring friendship he knew he'd forged with his former enemy, the relationship based on forgiveness granted without merit or earning it, the nobility and heroism that had once resided in the snow leopard which he was absolutely sworn to bring back and see restored for good if it killed him. He sent it all, all these thoughts and memories, all his emotions about them, downward and outward through the waters while he stood upon them, perfectly balanced in a Crane pose, eyes closed and chest heaving powerfully.

Yet somehow, through his closed lids, perhaps with eyes of the spirit and heart, he saw what was being wrought upon Wu Dan. The shadowy, inky waters evaporating entirely into nothingness, the void being replaced by the river waters rushing in and bursting upward in a spraying geyser while the never-ending whirlpool encircled it. The pall of death, despair, and decay being driven from the mountain's slopes, as if a veil which had overlain the Valley was now being drawn back and away.

All across the fields and farmland, the shadows were fleeing, racing back, mounting upwards and curling over as if a scroll being rolled away, letting the sun shine with preternatural clarity on the village, the gleaming roofs of the Jade Palace, the blooming pink buds of the Peach Tree of Heavenly Wisdom. The sense of terror, hatred, fear, and anger that had lain over the Valley since the night before was vanishing, allowing relief, wonder, and gratitude to wash in its place like a breath of fresh air—in fact, he could smell it on the breeze, the scent of osmanthus and chrysanthemums so fragrant and reassuring…

And at last, as the clean air and shower of water descended to fall back into the pool once more, and the water on which he perched again swirled and spiraled around the barren shoreline, suddenly it wasn't barren anymore. Everywhere the water touched, or where the air shimmered golden, life sprang into being once more. Roots thrust up from the rich earth, grass and flowering plants swelled upward and sprang from seed pods with an almost palpable joy, trees and shrubs burst into being with accelerated growth, all of it following Po in a verdant triangle that surrounded the pool, spread across the plain, and at last spilled over the side of Wu Dan toward the Valley below.

By the time he no longer felt any hint of darkness and corruption, the river waters sank back down toward the ground and returned to their banks with the relaxation of his will and a final tai chi turn upon one foot, and the Pool of Sacred Tears once more shone and shimmered with the purity and sanctity he remembered well, the entire slope of Wu Dan blazed with life, color, and light, and the birdsong seemed to fill the air with a joy and hope so explosive no heart or throat could contain it.

And as he let the waters recede and rest…performed an even deeper kung fu bow than before…and at last sank to his knees and opened his eyes, Po wasn't at all surprised—nor was he ashamed—to find tears streaming down his cheeks.

For a moment, just a moment, as the misty spray above the pool and river hissed and settled, and his chi shimmered one last time before fading out, he thought he saw an aged, wrinkled face reflected within it…the face of Oogway…and it was smiling at him. Not as he had in life, with that endlessly befuddled amusement, but with wisdom, honor, and understanding—and he nodded once to the panda. An acknowledgment and a mark of respect far greater than any bow.

When the grass rustled softly and Ping shuffled wearily and somewhat weakly up to his side, reaching out to rest a wing on his elbow as much to support himself as to offer comfort, the goose's words echoed almost exactly what Po was thinking himself. "Oh, my word…why, I don't believe it! Wh-what have you done?"

"No…no worries, Dad." He felt more tired than he had after defeating Tai Lung, after the three grueling days of training under Shifu—heck, after he'd climbed the Jade Palace steps for the first time. More tired than he had a right to be, even after fighting the Wu Sisters. He wondered how much more it took out of a person to call upon…and burn up…almost all of his spiritual energy instead of just his physical stamina. He wondered how long it would take to replenish itself. He wondered if he'd recover at all. But it was worth it, in the end. "I just…had to undo what Chao did, make the pool good again. Just lemme…rest a little…hoo boy…and we can head back…"

It actually took at least an hour before Po felt he could move again, and even then his movements were sluggish and uneven, his head woozy and his voice slightly slurred. A refreshing drink from the Pool of Sacred Tears, however (which proved beyond a shadow of a doubt, no pun intended, that it was clean again), did wonders for his constitution and energy levels. At least enough that he could get to his feet and contemplate heading back to the village with his father…and his cargo.

A little thought had led to him arranging Xiu's limp form over one broad shoulder so that she dangled down his back, Chun on the opposite shoulder with her chin resting on his white-furred chest. Then, scooping up Jia in his arms, he nodded to Ping and they departed the plateau, descending the same ledge that led down into the Valley. The three sisters together didn't weigh very much at all, and the unrelenting determination Po possessed let him handle their dead weight regardless so that they were soon making good time along the pathway and he wasn't even breathing that hard.

Maybe one of these days I'll actually make this climb without gettin' outta breath at all. Somethin' to shoot for! Of course he still was working up a sweat—which meant another visit to the bathhouse… Pacing himself as best he could, the panda glanced down at his father with a lump in his throat as he once again contemplated what would have happened if he'd lost him. And so he happened to catch Jia's violet eyes gazing up at him.

What he saw there startled him—the youngest Wu Sister seemed to be looking at him in undisguised wonder and respect, and when she spoke in a hoarse rasp, he found out why. "Po…wow. You…I can't believe what you just did! You…you really do have great power, Dragon Warrior. We never should have tried to fight you…"

It was on the tip of his tongue to retort that it was a bit late for that, but he wisely held it back. Instead he sighed and averted his gaze in embarrassment at all the attention. He knew he'd done something amazing, that he'd truly proven himself the Dragon Warrior now as well as a budding master of chi…but that didn't stop him from feeling outclassed by the Furious Four and Tai Lung—even on the distant day when he might have mastered all one thousand scrolls too, he'd probably always look up to them. Nor did it keep him from forgetting why he fought, why he was doing all in his power to protect the Valley and stop Chao—not for glory or power, not to be an amazing show-off, but to do the right thing, help those who needed it, and be the best that he could be.

Still…he had to admit, what he'd done had been pretty darn cool.

"Hey," he said lightly, trying to wave it aside as he blushed, "anybody with th' right trainin' could've done that. I just did what had t' be done, 'cause there wasn't anybody else t' do it. All in a day's work for a true kung fu warrior." He puffed out his chest—then deflated it as he eyed the assassin in a mixture of accusation and regret. "But I guess ya don't know anythin' about that, do ya?"

Jia winced openly, and though she couldn't turn her face away, she did flick her eyes off to the side, along the trail and off the ledge's drop-off. She swallowed. "I used to. Once. And I'd like to again. But…it's too late for me, big guy. For all of us."

"What're you talkin' about?" Po couldn't help letting his jaw hang open in disbelief. "Weren't ya payin' attention? Look at Tai, look at how far he's come! It's never too late…"

"Tai Tai is different," the snow leopardess said in a tiny voice. "He used to be a good guy once. We…never did. And maybe he doesn't know where he came from…but we're from a long line of assassins. That's all we are and will ever be. Nothing can ever change that." Her tone had become listless and empty, both reciting an old catechism and descending into despair.

He knew it could all be a lie or a trick, that Jia was simply playing the sympathy card to try and earn his trust, get him to like and help her so that later, when he least suspected it, she could break out of prison and free her sisters for another killing spree. But as he looked down at Jia, Po somehow knew, with instant clarity, that she was telling the truth—or at least, what she viewed it as. That she was speaking from her heart was certainly undeniable.

And even though he knew it could get him in a lot of trouble, that Tai Lung, Shifu, or even Tigress would tell him he was being stupid and foolish, he had to note that the spotted feline didn't seem much different from himself, once upon a time. He too had thought he would never amount to anything but a short-order cook, that his destiny was set in stone and he would never achieve his secret dreams. It had taken work and dedication, and he could never become complacent about it, but he had finally gotten there. As he'd once told Tai Lung, if he could be a hero, anybody could. Even one of the hated and feared Wu Sisters.

"You're wrong," the panda said almost as quietly. "I don't know why…maybe I took one too many hits on th' noggin. But I believe in ya. I think ya got a chance. I think, if ya really try, an' believe in yourself, then ya got a shot at redeemin' yourself too. You don't have t' be anythin' but what you wanna be. No matter what your sisters say." Here he glared at Xiu's back, then Chun's dangling head. "I followed my heart, I didn't give up, and now I've got a whole new life 'cause of it. It's not easy, in fact it's darn tough…but it can be done."

"He's right, you know," Ping suddenly spoke up, startling both of them. The goose had a surprisingly introspective and serious look on his face. "I was there, too. I heard what you and your sister said, what you tried to do, in my kitchen. You've already shown you have a good heart in my book. And Po's such a good boy…if he sees something in a person, then it's there, it's just that simple."

The bird paused, then added proudly, "It's the same thing that makes him such a good cook. Why, I remember the time I accidentally spilled a whole bottle of ginger in the stew, and I never would have known it was there thanks to all the pepper covering it up, but Po could still smell it…"

Jia laughed, weak and painfully since her lungs and diaphragm could barely work. Ignoring the goose as he continued blathering on and waving his wings about to emphasize his points, she looked at Po seriously. "Thank you for saying that, panda. But I've done too much that was wrong…too many people want to see me dead…and then there's Xiu…" She shuddered faintly.

"I don't know," Chun spoke up suddenly, thoughtfully, almost making Po leap sideways off the ledge as he cried out in shock. "I think he might be right, too. It's too late for me, and really, I enjoy the life of an assassin far too much to ever go on the straight and narrow. But if there's anyone who could turn their life around like Po did, it's you, Jia."

For a moment the bear could only work on calming his breathing and heartbeat to a manageable level, and once that was accomplished, he found himself smiling in vindication as he heard even the emotionless middle sister advising that Jia not give up and she should listen to his encouraging counsel. But then the last thing Chun had said sank in, and he frowned. Even as Jia was looking thoughtful and a touch of hope was starting to dawn in her violet eyes, he turned and glared down at her sister.

"Wait a minute…what're you talkin' about? 'Like I turned my life around'? You sayin' bein' a noodle chef is that awful compared t' bein' th' Dragon Warrior?" Okay, I couldn't stop dreamin' about kung fu, I wanted more than anythin' t' go t' one of th' academies or even th' Jade Palace. But I loved cookin' too, an' there's nothing shameful about it…

Chun peered at him, then snorted. "Well it's hardly my cup of tea, panda. But no, that's not what I meant. I was talking about your parents. Considering what they were, what they became, the fact you've become the greatest hero and force for peace in China…that's really quite amazing. It means Jia has a shot at this, too."

Rolling his eyes, even as he felt that familiar twinge of nausea mixed with a clammy chill whenever this subject was brought up, Po growled. "Again? Aren't ya ever gonna give up on that bone, Chun? I already told ya, I don't believe a word ya said an' I don't need t' hear it anyway."

Something hardened in her bright green eyes, and when she spoke again her voice was low and rather cruel. "Well whether you need to or not, you're going to hear it anyway. You're not going to throw me over the cliff, so unless you gag me you're going to have to listen. And I'm tired of keeping secrets." She sighed, and to his confusion suddenly looked weary, sad, and lost, like a little girl—or perhaps a discarded toy that had belonged to one.

"I made a promise twenty years ago…and even if I've done a pretty poor job of keeping it, it's high time you knew the truth. At least if you know where you came from, you'll be able to properly honor your parents…and believe me, they deserve it."

As they came around a bend in the ledge and the sweeping panorama of the Valley with the Jade Palace on its distant peak came into view, Po struggled with what to say, with his decision, with his very emotions. He should not listen, let alone believe. Even if Jia could be trusted, Chun could not; even if neither of them were outright lying, they could easily be mistaken, could have confused him for someone else.

On the other paw…what possible reason would they have now to lie to him, or to tell this story at all? They had been defeated, they would be put on trial for their crimes and likely executed, and revealing to him what they knew—if it was the truth—would cost them their only bargaining chip. If they truly were trying to manipulate him, they should be withholding the tale until after he had promised to speak to the Emperor or the magistrate and plead for a lighter sentence. And if they were lying or wrong, surely his father could contradict them.

Yet all of that being true, why would they tell him if it was the truth? Why should either of them care about him, what he knew and felt? Especially when at least one of them had tried to kill him on more than one occasion? Could this promise be real? Could they care because they had sworn to look out for him, somehow? Fat lotta good that did. An' with their kinda help, I think I'm glad they didn't show up anyway! And how could they even know his parents? It didn't bear thinking about…

He sighed. Jia had spared him twice—once at the Jade Palace, once now at Wu Dan. And when Chun had brought him the deal the night before, she'd seemed genuinely concerned for his welfare—well, for her, anyway. He at least owed them a chance to speak their case.

"Fine," Po said as levelly as he could manage. "But I can't promise anythin'."

"Fair enough." Chun flicked her eyes to the side. "You were part of this too, Ping, so you'd better stick up for us. I think you can consider null and void the oath Bao made you take. It's more important for your son to know the truth."

The panda glanced at the goose—and swallowed whatever he was going to say. Instead of still babbling about cooking and noodles, Ping had fallen silent and gone vaguely white beneath his feathers. He wasn't sure what he saw there—fear, worry, distress, or sorrow, but what he knew for sure was that his father knew exactly what the Wu Sisters were talking about. He had kept Ping here with him because, after what Xiu had said, he'd wanted to question the assassins eventually and had needed someone with him who knew and could confirm the truth. But he hadn't expected this... A sense of betrayal stabbed him in the gut. "Dad…?"

Ping flinched, interlaced his wing feathers, and looked up nervously with a very weak smile. This soon faded altogether into solemnity, a look he recalled well from that night in the village streets, when the goose had said it was time to tell him something he should have long ago. Only this time, he sensed for once it had nothing to do with food or the restaurant. "Son…I am so sorry. But…I think you should listen to what they have to say."

Looking back and forth from the paralyzed snow leopardesses to his adopted father, the Dragon Warrior felt adrift in a turbulent sea of emotions, as everything he thought he knew turned upside down and changed its meaning. His father had concealed things from him? And the assassins were actually being honest? They did know something about his parents…

Part of him, instinctively, cringed back and didn't want to know, refused to hear it—because if the Wu Sisters knew them it must not be good, because he didn't want the fantasies and imaginings he'd always had about them tarnished and destroyed, because he simply had done just fine without them for twenty years. To have them intrude into his life now, undermine his happiness and dreams and everything he believed in, to have it happen only through tales of them no less rather than their actual presence…

At the same time, he had to know, he demanded it, he had the right! And whatever the truth was, it couldn't be as bad as all that, look at the kind of person he'd turned out to be. That couldn't all be due to Ping, at least some of it had to be inherited…and Chun had said they would be proud of him, how could that be if they were bad?

Shaking his head violently to clear it of the self-doubt, fear, and growing resentment—directed as much at himself as at Ping, the sisters, or his parents—Po finally turned again and skewered the goose with a hard, unyielding stare. "You an' I are gonna have a talk later, believe you me. But Chun's right, you're helpin' her with this story too now, whatever ya know, wherever ya can." When the noodle-maker swallowed hard and nodded his assent with a rather wretched look in his luminous eyes, the panda turned back to the Wu Sister. "All right, start talkin'."

Chun took a shallow breath, all she could manage in her current condition, but he wasn't about to unblock her to make it easier on her. Not till he could be sure, and probably not even then. "Their names were Bao and Li-Na. From what they told us, they came from Jiangxi…"

---

While the opening remarks of the trial had been, if not open-minded and accepting, then at least somewhat civil and polite, after Fu Xiao had ordered Tai Lung be beaten as punishment for his evasiveness, hesitation, and willfulness it degenerated almost immediately into anarchy, cruelty, and malicious slander. Master Shifu, constantly trying to get a word in edgewise, and Mei Ling, desperately seeking to be heard above the increasingly raucous and violent din, had become alternately infuriated and frustrated as their every attempt to shed light on the matter and establish fair justice had instead been met with ill will, suspicion—and even outright hatred.

The mountain cat was the first to succeed in intervening. Striding forward past the guards—even shoving some of the more belligerent members out of her way when they dared to block her path—Mei Ling positioned herself firmly in front of Tai Lung's exposed back so that he could not be beaten without first striking her. The soldiers looked as if they would have no issue doing so, but they hesitated without Fu's direct order…and so she was able to rise to her full height and declaim in a determined, no-nonsense voice.

"Shame on you, all of you! You take bits of weak, unrelated evidence as ironclad proof and reluctance to answer as admission of guilt. What has happened to your sense of morality and fair play?" Turning her head to skewer one villager after another with her hard, dark stare, the Li Dai graduate became even more passionate, her entire body trembling.

"All my life I grew up with stories of how kind, just, and caring the people of the Valley of Peace were. But I am seeing none of that now! What I am seeing is minds consumed by fear and anger, far too blind to see what's right in front of your faces."

Unsurprisingly the ram rose immediately to his feet, and to Shifu's shock and rising fury he seemed quite prepared to bend forward and literally bowl her over with a hard slam of his horns. "How dare you! You interrupt this perfectly legal, properly sanctioned proceeding with your lies and malcontent, you denigrate the character of every citizen gathered here, and you expect us to believe—"

"Perfectly legal? Properly sanctioned?" Mei Ling exploded. "What the hell are you talking about? This isn't justice, it's torture! And I think you've all done a pretty good job of damning your own characters."

Fu Xiao pounded his gavel so hard Shifu expected the rock to break, or else the table under it. "One more word out of you, and you will share Tai Lung's fate!"

"Gladly!" the mountain cat snapped brazenly, and at once her staff had appeared almost out of nowhere to slam down on the red-draped table with a solid bang that made the ovine flinch back. His eyes fixed on the length of wood and would not meet her gaze. "But before you even think of trying it, why don't you try listening for a change?" She took a deep breath and rushed on before anyone could interrupt her.

"You know the Wu Sisters were there in the kitchen, even Xiulan admits it. One of their favored weapons is a dagger, while Tai Lung has never been known to employ one. Zhuang's stomach was clawed open—to suggest a wild beast killed him, but it also hid the nature of the wound. And this doesn't suggest anything to you?"

"Yes," Xiulan sniffed. "That Tai Lung wasn't thinking clearly at all, or else he would have better covered his tracks. If he hadn't been in a rage, he would have known better than to kill my husband in such a distinctive manner. And the dagger proves nothing—the sisters were right there to give it to him! Not to mention, he must have counted on us thinking him innocent because of how Zhuang died. Use a weapon he'd never been known to use, and of course we'll seek a different suspect."

Mei Ling seethed, paws flexing around the haft of her staff where it still lay on the table. "And what about the clawing, anyway? How does that prove Tai Lung is guilty? He's hardly the only cat in the Valley—or the only one with claws at all."

The cow woman glared at her scornfully, but there was somehow a stilted mockery in her tone as well when she answered. "Are you confessing, then? Or accusing an innocent member of the guard? I should hope you aren't trying to pin the blame on sainted Master Tigress—who isn't even here anyway." While the mountain cat spluttered, Xiulan continued.

"It proves him guilty because it did in the past. He used his claws many times during his rampage, hundreds of people witnessed it! Establishing a pattern, I should say. He enjoys violence and blood, this is something we know…if you ask why he would do this to my husband, you might as well ask why he believed himself entitled to the Dragon Scroll—or how he lives and breathes!"

Letting out a furious snarl, the kung fu master swung her staff again, this time to keep back the nearest boar that had been moving forward to menace Tai Lung's bruised and battered form again. "But he doesn't even have any blood on his claws! You're not making any sense!"

Xiulan sneered, the pronounced curl of her lip almost elegant in its contempt. "So? You of all people should know how fastidious felines are—especially one as arrogant as he is! And just before he ran me out of the restaurant, after he stabbed Zhuang, I saw him lick his paw clean of his blood. He enjoyed it, he seemed to love the taste…and do you really think he'd leave any evidence behind to convict him?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Shifu saw a look of open horror and nausea on his son's dazed face, visible even through the puffiness where one of the guards had punched him repeatedly in the eye. But of course no one else was looking, or if they were they viewed it as yet another attempt to garner sympathy.

Mei Ling didn't answer the grieving widow—less because she believed this testimony, it seemed, and more because she couldn't disprove it. Instead she switched tacks. "At least let me examine Zhuang's body," the mountain cat said, pleading with her now. "If I saw the wounds, I could tell if Tai Lung's claws made them…I could tell if the knife that killed your husband was Xiu's…"

Striding forward as if propelled by her own force of vindication and self-importance, Xiulan hauled back and slapped Mei Ling hard across the face. Even as the unprepared feline staggered back with a paw held to her stinging cheek, her interlocutor hissed venomously as if she were the cat instead. "Don't even dare think you can desecrate him, or my memories of him!" Her eyes narrowed suggestively. "And just how do you know either of them so well? Since when are you on a first-name basis with assassins?"

As Mei Ling froze, clearly unable to explain without condemning herself, the red panda stepped forward into the gap…and though he forced himself to modulate his voice, to restrain the panic, resentment, and ire that had gripped him since he'd first learned of this trumped-up, insulting charge, he still couldn't help but snap his words with much less care and politeness than before.

"None of that even matters." Shifu lifted his chin imperiously, coolly regarding the look of open disrespect on the bovine's face, then turned his blue gaze to the magistrate. "Because no matter how many ridiculous, flimsy excuses you come up with to build your case upon, the simple fact is…you do not have a motive." Stabbing a finger toward Tai Lung, but never taking his eyes from Fu's face, he spoke firmly, his voice becoming louder with every word until it echoed in the courtyard and off the roof tiles.

"Shen Zhuang was his friend—the only friend he had in the Valley, save for the Dragon Warrior. He defended him, stood up for him, believed in him when no one else would. He stood between him and Wei Chang's blandishments. And he let his daughter play with Tai Lung. By the Jade Emperor in Heaven, why the hell would he do that if he thought there was even the slightest chance my son would hurt either of them? Why would Tai Lung kill him when Zhuang had been nothing but generous and caring toward him—when doing so would guarantee everyone turning on him again?"

Outright disgusted, at the people for believing such insane lies and at Heian Chao for making them far too willing to do so, he stalked over between Mei Ling and Xiulan, glaring up at the latter and brandishing Oogway's staff in her face until she grudgingly stepped back. He turned in a slow circle, regarding the ring of faces, seeking vainly for a sign of contrition and shame amongst all the hatred and vengeance, trying to ignore the seething sea of shadows he still saw flowing and undulating around them and failing. "If you can believe that, you're all mad!"

Fu Xiao grunted, then leaned forward to plant both hands on the table. "Mad, eh? What a coincidence—I was about to say the same thing about Tai Lung himself. It might not make sense for him to kill his only friend, but by definition you don't have sense when you're insane!" He nodded firmly in justification. "He has also never cared—about friends, about others, about anyone but himself. All Zhuang was to him was a naïve fool, one he could use as a shield to fend off prying eyes until he had gained his chance to once again take advantage of us. If he trusted Tai Lung…then he was indeed too blind and misled. And if, by some miracle, this felon had developed even a drop of human kindness in him so as to befriend Zhuang, that was surely lost and forgotten when his insanity overtook him once more."

The ram crossed his arms and shook his head, almost as if he actually regretted his words. "He nearly killed you when he made his way back to the Valley, and again this morning. He has reverted to form, as we all knew he would—as you yourself knew as well, if you would allow yourself to see the truth. It was only a matter of time…and now he must be done away with. His evil and destruction will plague us no more."

The red panda could not believe his ears. Granted, there was a tiny voice in the back of his head that whispered the magistrate could be right—that while Heian Chao must surely be responsible in some way for all of this, if he had driven Tai Lung to such an act or even merely possessed him, then all might well be lost. His son could have fallen under the shroud of darkness again, the rage and passion and furor of his Yang overtaking him…if the monster had been let out again, it might never be bottled up.

But even so…he also knew the goodness and love that still remained in the snow leopard. Fu was wrong—Tai Lung had been trying so hard, he had nearly succeeded…and he did care about others besides himself. Po…Tigress…little Yi…and Zhuang. He had even managed to forgive Vachir! There was no way he could have done this, it must have been the Wu Sisters. To refuse to believe in him now, to turn his back on him as he had done the day Oogway denied him the scroll—that was something he could not countenance. No matter what happened, he would not abandon Tai Lung again. Not even if he had to die himself to spare him this cruel, tragic fate.

Even as Shifu made this adamantine resolution, Fu Xiao was speaking again, even more pompous and pleased than ever. "You have provided not a shred of proof that Tai Lung was not present last night in Ping's kitchen, that he could not have committed the crime or had reason to do so. And your…'character witness' testimony is biased, woefully misplaced, and completely pathetic. Not to mention inadmissible since all of it is hearsay. I have had enough of your interference, Shifu. You were invited here only as a courtesy, and that has now been revoked. Another word out of you, and you, too, will be punished…"

He began to beckon to the guards to approach Mei Ling and Shifu, but the panda glared coldly and made a single gesture. Instantly a large chunk of stone wrenched itself up out of the courtyard paving, hovering in mid-air and surrounded by the shimmering blue light of his chi. This new missile, which could easily crush any of the soldiers, hung poised and ready to smash forward and down with a single twitch of his finger. Unsurprisingly, the guards paused, fear quite evident on their faces as they slowly began to back away.

"I'd like to see you try," Shifu said quietly, but with a core of iron.

Quickly acting to cover this undermining of his authority, the magistrate coughed, cleared his throat, and turned back to face the assemblage. "In any event, this court has heard more than enough evidence, and all of this was merely a formality—for a wicked and immoral beast who has traumatized this Valley for the last time, nothing more is truly needed. We find Tai Lung guilty as charged, his sentence to be carried out immediately."

"No!" The panda heard Mei Ling echo his cry at the same time, but they were both drowned out once again by the wild cheering of the crowd. Xiulan, whose eyes brimmed over with tears and looked positively, and fiendishly, exultant, clasped her hands tightly to her chest…and the depth of hatred and bloodthirsty malice in her eyes would have given him pause even if he hadn't seen the flicker of sooty, crimson light in their depths.

Fu pounded the gavel again for silence, but did not receive it as the cow instead turned and gave an inhuman, triumphant grin to the villagers. "What shall we do with him? What will end his reign of terror? What will bring us true justice?"

"Boiling!"

"Crushing!"

"Impaling!"

"Castration!"

"Personally," Xiulan almost purred, "I believe he should receive the Death of a Thousand Cuts…" Glancing back over her shoulder at the magistrate, she actually pouted and then sighed. "But since it's already been built and prepared for us, I suppose hanging him from the gallows will have to do."

Again the roar of approval, and the crowd surged forward. The guards formed a cordon to hold them back, but only enough to allow the rest of their number to approach Tai Lung where he knelt, absolutely stunned. Desperately Shifu lunged in their path, wielding Oogway's staff horizontally between them, but before he could swing it or send the dirt-encrusted stone flying at them, a pig swung out with one knobby fist and actually succeeded in dealing him a glancing blow—enough to both hurl him sideways and make him lose his concentration. His small body was flung into Mei Ling's arms, while the rock fell to the ground with a barely audible thud.

By the time he'd recovered his senses and both of them tried again to stop the crowd, the guards had already unbound the snow leopard from the wooden posts and coiled the ropes behind him—jerking him along, kicking and slamming him into the gravel pathway, almost wrenching his arms out of his sockets as they tied the rough hemp in place to keep his limbs twisted back. They also spat on him and jeered vile curses that Shifu deliberately blocked out…he only focused on dragging Mei Ling along, chasing after the villagers as they pressed out from the courtyard into the square immediately outside Fu's house, followed closely by Xiulan and even the magistrate, unholy madness and lust for revenge burning in their eyes. Every face he beheld, as he ran into the village streets toward the gibbet they'd erected, had the same scarlet eyes, every body was surrounded by the same obsidian mist…

Screaming to anyone who would listen, shrieking pleas for understanding and nasty insults from one moment to the next, the master of the Jade Palace finally resorted to kung fu—swinging about with Oogway's staff, knocking people off their feet, slamming the gnarled upper portion underneath a soldier's chin, inverting to ram the butt end into another's stomach to make him double over, whirling and twisting to topple or knock back one rabbit, goose, and pig after another. Beside him, he could sense Mei Ling doing the same with her own staff.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but could only have been a few minutes, the two of them broke through the last rank of villagers and emerged at the steps leading up to the wooden platform everyone had eagerly encircled. Whether because he was still drugged insensible by the opium, the soldiers had simply overpowered him and kept him helpless with their bindings, or he had given up in abject despair, Tai Lung had allowed his captors to drag him into place, so that as Shifu and the mountain cat leaped up the steps onto the gallows, the spotted feline had already been moved into position, a noose as thick as his wrist shoved roughly into place and yanked so tightly that the snow leopard's eyes bulged and his face looked slightly blue.

Fu Xiao, who stood beside the wooden lever and gear system they'd constructed to control the trap door, turned and glared as the two kung fu masters scrambled toward him and his condemned prisoner. "What did I tell you? This goes far beyond flouting the law, now you are actively attacking and harming our fellow citizens? Whatever happened to 'defending the innocent' and 'protecting the Valley'? It seems you are the one who's lost his mind…"

"Damn it, listen to me!" He spread his hands and raised his voice to ring out across the square, so that everyone and not just Fu could hear him. At this point he had no recourse left, he had to attempt the full truth and hope he could break through the fog of their enemy's corruption. "Tai Lung did not do this, and I can prove it! There is a powerful threat, a grave danger to the Valley and everyone in it, and it is not Tai Lung. It is the man who hired the Wu Sisters, who incited Commander Vachir to those terrible murders, and he is here, now, influencing all of you even as we speak!

"His name is Heian Chao…he is a chi wizard of the highest magnitude…he has power over all of us, more than you can possibly imagine! He only wishes our destruction, he wants our lives and our souls, and he must be stopped! He possessed Master Monkey, made him kill Master Mantis…it was by his order the Dragon Warrior was nearly killed…it is he who ended Zhuang's life, and if you kill Tai Lung you are only carrying out his will! You have to believe me…"

Even as he tried to explain what they were truly facing, who the real enemy was, what he had done and was still trying to do, Shifu knew it was a lost cause. He could see it in every upturned face—confusion, disbelief, ridicule, stubbornness, and above all scorn and hate. Especially from the magistrate and Xiulan, the latter having scaled the scaffold too to stand beside him. Not only did the jeering begin anew in moments, but the cow woman actually threw back her head and laughed derisively, arrogantly, even wickedly—a sound so chilling and empty of humanity that it seemed almost demonic, a laugh that first Fu, then the crowd, joined in on.

"What mystical idiocy are you trying to pawn off on us now, Shifu?" The seamstress gritted her teeth and gestured at him dismissively. "Do you really expect us to believe such tripe? If Mantis truly is dead, I bet you anything Tai Lung killed him, too. Are you that desperate you'll make up spiritual bogeymen and dredge up old wives' tales to defend your precious son? When even Master Oogway saw what a threat he was, and locked him away? We're not buying it, not anymore. We've had it with the Jade Palace thinking it can dictate our lives—your time is done, we choose our own destiny now!"

A loud, lusty roar rose from the crowd, which was fast becoming a mob, and all Shifu could think in his despair was that although they'd believed it for their own protection, they had once again played into Chao's hands by locking Monkey away—for he could have testified to his possession and Mantis's demise…

"But you're not!" Mei Ling cried plaintively, tearing him out of his self-pity. "He's controlling you, the same way he did Monkey, and Vachir—"

Xiulan wheeled about on her, again raising her hand, this time to form a fist she shook at the mountain cat. Her eyes looked positively demented, and Shifu thought he saw flecks of foam at her lips. "No! You're not going to get away with this! No more excuses, no more ridiculous stories! A creature that can feed off of our spirits? That can take away our wills and make us his puppets? Quit using caricatures to try and hide your own failings! You made a monster, Shifu, and if it's the last thing I do, I'll make sure you pay for all the suffering he's caused.

"Don't you dare try and pretend there's someone else to blame, someone who controlled Tai Lung—are you trying to absolve him of all responsibility? He didn't kill Zhuang, he didn't try to kill you and the Dragon Warrior, he didn't even commit his rampage of his own free will—it was all this Heian Chao? NO! He did it all, there's no one pulling his strings, and he's going to pay for it once and for—"

"Wrong!" The authoritative, powerful, feminine voice broke through the woman's tirade, and in spite of themselves everyone turned to stare. From the other side of the crowd, someone stirred, firmly pushing their way between the riled-up villagers…and then Shifu's heart leaped in his chest as he saw sunlight shining off of striped fur. It was Tigress, with Viper right behind her slithering across the cobblestones. Both of them looked a little battered, the feline sporting a number of bruises and bloody wounds so that she rather looked as she had after her ill-fated journey to the Thread of Hope to stop Tai Lung. She also looked extremely dirty and sweaty, as if she'd arrived here at a dead run from Wu Dan—which she must have.

Climbing up the steps, Tigress paused to survey the crowd…her eyes lingering rather more on Tai Lung than anyone else, and as Shifu glanced at his son standing bound beneath the noose, he saw the first dawning of hope in those previously dull golden orbs, along with a love so intense and profound he was surprised no one else noticed it. The striped feline, meanwhile, spoke again, addressing everyone although her words seemed meant mostly for Xiulan. "He did not kill Shen Zhuang. He couldn't have. Because last night…he was with me."

Utter silence settled over the square, so sudden and startling that Shifu's huge ears seemed to burn and ring with the absence of all sound. Many faces were skeptical, condescending, and distrustful…but just as many looked confused and wary. And he knew why. It was one thing for him, the one who had raised Tai Lung, to intervene on his behalf…quite another for one of the Furious Four to vouch for him, especially Tigress. He could almost see the realization sinking in…

But just as he believed the truth was finally dawning, that Chao's sorcery was finally being broken, Xiulan stalked toward the feline and glared down at her on the steps. "Liar," she snapped caustically. "I saw him, I know he was there, I know he did it. I don't know why, but you're lying."

"No, I'm not." Somehow Tigress kept her voice level. "We were together all night, there's no possible way he could have done it. It was the Wu Sisters, and them alone—I know because Mr. Ping was there, he saw it all. He never saw Tai Lung…only the sisters."

Again, a silence as overpowering as the grave. People in the crowd began to stir and mutter uncertainly, doubtfully, glancing back and forth between the leader of the Four, Xiulan, and the convicted felon watching the whole drama unfold with pleading desperation. As the cow stood stunned, for the moment unable to say a word to gainsay her, Fu Xiao cleared his throat behind them. "Oh really? And just where is Ping, hmm? I don't see him here with you…"

"He's on his way back to the Valley now, with Po," she replied promptly, easily. "He'll tell you all about it…if you will simply wait, withhold judgment until you hear his side of the story—"

An ugly sound cut her off, and then the seamstress stomped down the steps until she stood right above, and almost eye-to-eye with, Tigress. "I don't believe you. You, of all people, would defend him now, after all he's done? I thought I knew you. I thought I could trust you, but I was right in what I said at the festival. You're in league with him, you've turned on the Valley and its people. There's no other explanation!"

Tigress got right up in her face in return, whiskers bristling and ruby eyes seething while she struggled to control her temper. "That's not it. I simply know what I know. Ping saw what happened, he knows who really killed your husband. And Tai Lung was with me, as I said—"

"With you? All night? Doing what?" Xiulan snapped. "Just what were you doing with a monster like Tai Lung? Was he, perhaps, in your bedroom? Did he seduce you? Is that why you're so willing to defend him—are you nothing but a slut?"

Instantly, the leader of the Four struck out with a roar—claws sheathed, but otherwise knocking Xiulan's head back and sending her sprawling on the wooden platform. The crowd gasped, then began an ugly mutter, and Shifu had to close his eyes and bury his face in his hand. He understood why Tigress had reacted as she had…but by doing so, she had confirmed the cow's words.

"You see?" Xiulan said fiercely as she staggered upright, wiping blood from her lip. "She cannot be trusted! Everything she's said is a lie—why, it must be! We know he was here in the village last night, even Shifu admits it."

As Tigress suddenly looked stricken—clearly she had not expected the panda or the snow leopard to have said such a thing, had hoped that the errand they'd sent him on had been denied and kept secret—the bovine continued. "She's only saying what she wants us to hear! Why is it, Master Tigress? Do you love him?" She said this last with scathing sarcasm.

The striped feline hesitated, then apparently decided things couldn't get any worse. "Yes. Yes, I do. But that's not why I'm defending him. It's because I know he's innocent."

Nothing she said after the first word seemed to have registered. Hands brandished as if she had claws herself, Xiulan let out a horrible cry. "She admits it! You whore! How could you—the scourge of the Valley—the one who killed so many—this vicious monster—"

"He's not a monster!" Mei Ling cried. "I know he didn't do it, it was my sisters and them alone—"

Fu Xiao whirled about. "Your sisters?" Shit!

Suddenly everything seemed to happen at once.

With an inarticulate cry of rage, Xiulan leaped upon Tigress, pummeling her with her fists, kicking her with knees and feet, whatever means she had at her disposal to attack the feline and make her hurt for her pain. Shifu saw from her torn and frantic expression that his daughter didn't know what to do—she obviously couldn't allow this fight to continue, but with as violent and possessed by dark chi as the woman was, Tigress might have to use brute force to put a stop to it and protect herself from the unnatural strength Chao granted. If she did so, though…she could end up killing Xiulan, who despite everything was still innocent.

At the same time, the entire crowd burst into a frantic, milling mass of shouting, screaming, infuriated rioters trying to clamber up onto the gallows—whether to get their hands on Tigress, Mei Ling, or Tai Lung wasn't clear. Viper was desperately trying to hold back as many as she could, but more and more were spilling past her and surging toward the wooden platform like waves on a dark sea. Twisting about to stand between them and their target, Shifu saw that Fu Xiao had ordered his soldiers to arrest Mei Ling, although the mountain cat had brought her staff to bear again and was whirling it about like windmill blades, sending the men flying off the gallows to lie groaning and bruised in the street.

Beyond her, Tai Lung still stood paralyzed in place, and the shadows clinging to his rosette-studded fur were even darker and more vile-looking than ever. The snow leopard looked from Tigress to Shifu, his expression bleak and resigned…he mouthed words: "Forgive me." Something seemed to die in those golden eyes, making them go flat…cruel…heartless…his fangs bared menacingly, and somehow even through all the noise, the panda could hear his growl, the same he had made that day twenty years ago when he crashed through the doors of the Jade Palace…

Not again. I can't let him rampage again. No!

Rushing forward, he saw out of the corner of his eye Fu Xiao beginning to pull on the lever that would open the trap door. Before him, he saw the darkness surge with renewed strength as it flared into being like a wicked aura around Tai Lung, saw his son stretch and strain all his phenomenal muscles to tear free of his bindings. Dimly, he was aware that the entire Valley was shaking, that somewhere off to the left in the direction of Wu Dan a pillar of silvery-blue light had exploded skyward, that the sky itself was clearing of the shadowy, dismal cloud cover which had concealed it ever since sunrise. And something seized him, somehow he knew instantly what he had to do, as if he heard a wheezing, creaky voice whispering in his ear.

"That…is…ENOUGH!" Shifu thundered—and he brought down Oogway's staff, hard, butt-first on the gibbet.

Instantly, just as it had almost three months before when Po had employed the Wuxi Finger Hold, a halo of golden light burst outward, this time with the peach wood stick as its epicenter. Brighter, more powerfully it blazed until it shone like the fires of the sun itself and Shifu was blinded by it—as he was sure everyone was. With a sound like a struck gong, the ring of chi expanded, racing outward, surging upward in a hemisphere, a dome, a globe radiating across the whole Valley.

It threw all the villagers who hadn't already ducked instinctively, sending them sprawling on the ground. It tossed Xiulan and Tigress about like milkweed floss, the latter catching hold of the former as she dug her claws into the wood and hung on for dear life. It whipped over Tai Lung, buffeting his silvery-gray fur—and ripping away the dark chi, turning it to wispy tatters that faded away into nothing, leaving the snow leopard standing there…shaking himself and trembling as if emerging from a nightmare, his eyes terrified, worried—but calm and gentle, the madness gone from them as if it had never been.

In seconds, the thunderous detonation of chi was over, the golden wave had passed over everyone in the village, then over the buildings themselves, washing outward to the farthest boundaries of the Valley. The light died, and Shifu could only stare down at the staff he held in stunned disbelief…then at Tai Lung, who looked similarly stupefied. He wondered if his own fur and clothes were as standing on end and disheveled as the snow leopard's were. I don't believe it. I just don't…wow.

Trembling slightly, the panda dared to look around. Out across the crowd first, to where he no longer saw a single shadow anywhere other than those the sunlight naturally produced—all the villagers either lying where they had fallen or struggling to rise, looking completely befuddled and frightened, as if they didn't recall how they had gotten there or what they'd been doing.

Then he turned to where Tigress was helping Xiulan to her feet and saw the cow woman, too, had lost her diabolical silhouette—and while she still looked angry and deeply upset, she also had a look of shell-shocked terror on her face (which had gone stark white), and tears were pouring down her cheeks. Finally he glanced in Fu Xiao's direction…and saw that while the ram was now on his hands and knees, fussing with his robes and staring miserably up at Shifu as if he were about to kiss his feet for absolution, the lever behind him had, in the explosion, been tripped.

Flicking his eyes to Tai Lung, he gasped as the sound of creaking wood became audible in the stillness, and then the trap door jerked and began to open. The snow leopard's head wrenched back and his eyes bulged as horrible choking sounds came from his throat.

Tigress rushed to save him, as did Mei Ling and Shifu—but someone else got there first, a blur of gray and white swooping down through the air to sever the rope in one fierce chop. Only as the three of them caught Tai Lung before he could fall through to the cobblestones below, and shakily knelt beside him to hold him upright, did the panda see who had been his son's rescuer.

It was Crane.

Landing lightly on the gallows with a brief furl of his wings that made his guard feathers shine in the late afternoon sunlight, the avian kung fu master closed his bill—with which, of course, he had cut through the rope—and looked about with a vindicated air. Everyone in the square stared at him in amazement, puzzlement, and disbelief, and Mei Ling in particular looked as if she longed to rush forward, sweep him in her arms, and kiss him soundly. Crane fidgeted nervously, shuffling his feet and ducking his head beneath his dou li.

"Um…hi, everyone. Yeah…sorry to, ah, interrupt…but I really, really think there's something you should see and hear. Er…I trust you all know Ning Guo?"

Gesturing to the side, the waterfowl pointed to where a somewhat aged goat whom Shifu recognized immediately stood leaning on a walking stick at the edge of the square. It was hard to tell if he was bemused by the spectacle, disparaging of it, or something in between. That he had a highly disapproving look was unquestionable.

"Yes," the apothecary said, rather testily. "Just thought I should come by and let you all know what's as plain as the noses on your faces before you waste all our taxes on a pointless trial." Somewhere to the side, Shifu heard Fu Xiao make a noise, what could have been either a grumble of protest or a stricken apology. "Seems you're all under the mistaken impression that Tai Lung killed poor Shen Zhuang. Well, I can tell you that at the time of the murder, he was in my shop last night." He paused, then smirked. "Buying a little something to keep his lady love from bearing cubs, I might add."

Somewhere in the crowd, someone choked, while someone else tittered weakly. Shifu didn't even have to look at the snow leopard to know he was blushing.

"So you see," Ning finished calmly, "even though he was in town last night, you've got the wrong man. Maybe it's just me, but you might want to rethink your law enforcement. Wouldn't want to kill an innocent by mistake, would you?"

"But…how…" Xiulan's voice was very faint, sorrowful, almost pitiful. She looked from one to the other, distress and denial on her still-pale face. "I don't understand…I know…I saw…"

"Heian Chao," Shifu said, as gently as he could, moving from Tai Lung to the agitated woman. "He made you see what he wanted you to see…what you wanted to see."

On the seamstress's other side, Crane also knelt, only he wasn't just offering her comfort—he held out what looked like a package of gold silk. "These are the herbs Tai Lung bought from Master Ning," he said softly. "They were in Ping's kitchen…that proves he was at the apothecary shop before he went to the restaurant…he dropped them there…" He paused, glanced aside at the snow leopard who seemed on the verge of embracing him tightly—or else breaking down in tears of relief and gratitude. "I also found…this."

Looking up from the sack she'd started examining by instinct, Xiulan glanced at what Crane held in his wing—and immediately she did start crying, soft, gentle sobs. Taking the piece of crumpled cloth with shaking fingers, she smoothed it out on her lap. "Sweet Kwan Yin…this, this was Zhuang's. It's part of the ru he was wearing last night…"

Crane nodded slowly, resting an understanding wing on her shaking shoulder. "I thought so. It looks like, as he was dying, he ripped it off and hid it under the table so someone could find it later. He wanted us…you…to know what really happened. Why don't you let everyone see it, Mrs. Shen?"

Very slowly, choking up with her tears, the cow lifted the pale blue cloth up so that Fu Xiao, the guards, and everyone in the square could gaze upon it. There, written across the fabric in what, by its color, had to be dried blood, was two words in hanzi: WU XIU.

Perhaps it was his imagination, perhaps not. But somewhere in the distance—and yet at the same time, far too close for comfort—Shifu thought he heard a throat-rending, screeching scream of pure and utter wrath.

---

(A/N: First off, credit where it's due: both the testifying of Ning Guo and the discovery of something in Ping's shop connected to Po's real parents were of course inspired by suggestions made by my reviewers. They were both extremely good ideas that IMO made my story deeper, more satisfying, and more dramatic. So thanks to Corset, Spartan-Guy, and Peter, you're the best. :) In addition, the further references I made to what happened to witnesses in ancient Chinese trials, as well as all the kinds of execution the crowd called for, are again accurate information I found in my research. Lastly, the scene where Po cleanses the Pool of Sacred Tears is my homage to the ending of the "Firebird Suite" from Fantasia 2000, with some of Yuna's first sending in Final Fantasy X and the "Tree of Life" Jean Grey used to repair the M'Kraan Crystal in the 90's X-Men TV show thrown in. Hope you liked it!

Well, a lot of questions were answered here, and my first Chekhov's Gun has appeared—Oogway's chi-infused staff. Not only did Tai Lung 'have a feeling' it would be needed, but Oogway said it would offer protection, and it has with a vengeance. And that's not even the full extent of what it can do to help stop Heian Chao—as you'll see in the next chapter! 38 will also reveal another Chekhov's Gun, as well as just plain bring together just about all the remaining strands of my narrative and address every question you could think to ask—particularly about Chao's backstory and the truth about Po's parents. Answers will be given, stories shared, understandings reached, and preparations will at last be made for battle—the pieces are set for endgame. How can they defeat Heian Chao? Will anyone else lose their lives in the process? What will all the ramifications be of this chapter, and what comes after? Can I possibly manage anything epic enough after what I've already written? :P Stay tuned, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel. R/R!)