Peter Caine returned to the scene of the crime first, dressed all in black in the dead of the night. He bumped the locks open, prowled through the rectory, and headed back down to the basement. The statues and papers lay in his bag, undisturbed by anyone during the day, in the room beside Brother Williams'.

The Buddha, the dragon, and the little warrior with its inscription carved in an archaic Chinese script were safe. He looked at them again, wondering how many others had held these items. So very old... even the writing barely looked like Chinese, though he'd been to a museum or two and had seen the ancient scripts that looked similar. With the other objects... he shook himself. It really didn't matter, did it? He wasn't here as an art historian, he was here as a thief.

He looked out the door and saw no one in the hallway. He took a step out; the air felt like ice as he breathed it in. "Son of the Shaolin priest..." He froze at the sound of the voice in his ear. His breath was white from the cold, escaping his body as tiny puffs of glass. He turned his eyes: the door was open, just a little. Brother Williams was still in his bed, eyes wide open and staring, still tied down like a psych patient.

Like an animal.

Peter shivered despite himself. He didn't believe in ghosts, and a man who was tied down posed no threat to him. So why was it that he felt that cold fear that penetrated into his center? Brother Williams was just a sick man who'd stolen a bunch of artifacts. That he terrified the spiritually inclined around him meant nothing.

"Are you here to finish what your father started, Peter Caine? Are you strong enough?"

Peter turned to look at the man in his bed and began to back away, step by careful step. The statues clinked with each movement, no matter how stealthy he tried to be, but right now, he didn't care. Being caught by physical beings held no consequence compared to being caught by... he didn't want to believe in whatever the evil force in that man was.

Back and back, until he hit the wall. He turned, ready to run up the stairs and out to safety— "Lo Si?" The old man looked at him slowly, dressed as he was head to toe in black. His eyes lingered on Peter's bag of treasures, then lifted again to the young man's face. "I know you're disappointed in me," he whispered, "but can we get out of here?"

The Ancient looked past him, then nodded for Peter to go.

Back through the rectory, out through the door. Peter Caine had never been so happy to leave a building in his entire life.

The Ancient was patient. How much time had he spent teaching those gifted, spiritual students how to become priests, how to cause the right sort of change in the world, how to get in touch with the great Way? Many, many students. He did not typically teach them until they were at the level of Mastery that Peter's father had. Perhaps that was why, despite the number of students he had taught, the old man could not remember the last time that one of his students was as difficult to handle as Peter Caine.

"Foolish. Reckless," he announced.

Peter's head snapped around. "I— I thought you were..." he looked down at the bag.

Lo Si shook his head furiously. "If you were not the son of—" He let out a breath and calmed himself. It would not do for him to become truly angered. He would wake the city's emotions, and that was not his intention this evening. "You should not have returned to that place alone." Peter had the audacity to look relieved! "Do you not understand how dangerous that was?"

"Hey, I can handle danger, Lo Si."

If only he could pinch the young man's ear. "You are a child playing by an open fire. A danger to yourself and to others." Peter did not understand the seriousness of what he had done. If the ghost had tried to posess him, he did not have the strength to fight it. Lo Si shook his head. "You will harm your father's spiritual growth as well as your own." Peter did look abashed at that. At least that was something. "What was so important that you took this risk? Show me."

Peter seemed to have an internal debate with himself, but then opened his bag and removed the objects inside of it. The Ancient looked at them carefully. Two were certainly unimportant, but the third statue, and the text...

"Sun Gwai. This is the name," he said, surprised. "Did you know?" The scroll was as old as the statue, yet remarkably well preserved. Few would be able to read it; but the Ancient was one of those who could. It had been a very long time since he had needed to read this script, though. "I will take these things. Your father and I will read this scroll. You must not return to that place alone. Give me your word."

"But, I— Okay, Lo Si. But I need the stuff back."

The old man reminded himself of the Tao. There was no light without darkness, no good without evil. "Do you? These things... Why did you steal them?"

Peter sighed. "It's kind of Triad property. Or maybe China's. He— Brother Williams, I guess— he had them smuggle it in, but he didn't pay. I guess because he got..." Peter shifted uncomfortably. "Possessed by a ghost."

"So you are working for them now?"

"It's just this one thing, Lo Si. One little task for the Triad, and all the debts Tan held are clear." The Ancient looked at him skeptically, and Peter sighed, his eyes on the ground. "Look, Lo Si, they said I'm still family," he said quietly. "I thought, Tan being dead, I thought I was out of it, but I guess there's no way to really leave. Not if I'm family." He spat the word out like it was poison, then shook his head. "Please don't tell him, Lo Si. My father, I mean. I've got to figure out how to solve this myself."

The Ancient looked at him carefully, saw the earnestness in the words. "I will not tell him yet. But Peter... you understand they will ask you for more..."

Peter nodded. "Yeah. I know. I'll deal with it." He picked up the bag and looked from its empty depths to the small statues and the scroll. Without a word, the Ancient returned the two less dangerous artifacts, the dragon and the small Buddha statue, to the bag. Peter nodded. "Just... figure all this out quickly, Lo Si. I can't delay on giving them this for too long."

"Sun Gwai," said Kwai Chang Caine, pondering the scroll. It was very old, written on silk, but the Shaolin had in their possession many ancient scrolls and books, a significant number of which had been written in these old characters. The ones the Shaolin had usually dealt with techniques. "A warrior of renown..." He paused. "This word, here... it appears to be... grass?"

The old man turned some pages in his large book. The words inside showed etymologies of characters, drawings that went through bone, bronze and seal scripts all the way to more modern characters that would be legible by anyone able to read common Chinese words. "Sealed."

The Shaolin priest nodded. "Sealed by immortals with the power of the heavens, earth and man... Master, where did you find this information?"

"I have agreed not to tell you for now," said the old man.

It was frustrating, to be certain. Kwai Chang looked at silk again. "Laws from the... Castle of Shambhala...?"

The old man turned and looked, surprised. "That word is... a precursor to city." He frowned. "But that word is Shambhala." The Ancient tapped a finger in his book, eyes running over the symbols. "I did not expect to see such a thing, Kwai Chang Caine."

"Nor I." He continued reading. "Sun Gwai who destroyed the bonds between brothers and... poisoned the bonds between parent and child. Sun Gwai, who cursed with sacred words the great city. Sun Gwai who... angers...?"

A few more pages turned in the book. "Arrogance?" Lo Si hovered a finger above the characters, as if tracing where the brush strokes, the lines and circles in the old text, would have gone. "No... one more word, here. He dominates."

"Sun Gwai who tried to dominate the gods. A great foe indeed."

The Ancient nodded. "I had thought that it would be I that was called on to fight this darkness, but... he is a warrior. You must defeat him, Kwai Chang Caine."

"With his name, and with this information... it may be possible." Kwai Chang looked at the Ancient. "You believe... a warrior in this realm is required for this task?"

"You are needed. The battle will be physical— but it will also be more than physical. A soul that tried to dominate the gods... you will need to cleanse it, and release it to find its next life."

Kwai Chang nodded, then took a breath. "Master... you obviously prepared for this. Did you know that it was coming?" The Ancient studiously looked away from him and turned a page in the large book of characters. The Shaolin priest frowned— was he truly avoiding the question? "Master... is something worse coming?"

The old man sighed. "There is always something coming, Kwai Chang Caine. You must be prepared for it."

"But there is nothing... specific."

The Ancient looked at him. "I do not know what is coming, but there are dark clouds gathering." The old man stood and walked to the window, where bright sunlight streamed in. "You have embarked upon this training with knowledge of the consequences. You understand well— there is no light that does not cast a shadow. Even in the light, there are fragments of darkness."

"Then... the ills that come towards us..." He shook his head. "Master, I would not bring more evil into the world. I will cease my training."

The Ancient turned sharply. "That you must not do, Kwai Chang Caine. An avalanche cannot be stopped once it is in motion."

An avalanche? The priest raised his eyebrows. If this event was amongst the first few rocks of an avalanche heading towards them, then it would be a terrible disaster indeed. He needed to be ready. They would all need to be ready. "Then... let us continue in our translation."

"I have the name of your demon," said Kwai Chang Caine. "An old ghost of a man who killed a great many on the battlefields at the borders of ancient China and Mongolia. His name was Sun Gwai."

"It doesn't matter anymore." Father Roble looked up from lighting a candle, eyes sad. "Brother Williams died last night," he said. "That thing inside of him, demon or ghost— it took his life, and it will have returned to its realm. My God, I am so sorry. I failed you, Brother Williams..."

The Shaolin walked to the Catholic and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We both bear the burden of this failure," he said. "But we must look to those still living. This... possessor of bodies will not simply disappear. He will have found someone else. Someone easier to control, perhaps. Do you know of anyone? Someone who is, perhaps... spiritually injured. Who may have communicated—"

He stopped short. The ghost had spoken with Peter, and Peter's heart was surely still damaged from the pain that his fathers had both contributed to; he was not so weak that the ghost would find easy purchase, but— "I must find my son."

"My father's not here? Does that mean you've figured out whatever you needed?"

The Ancient looked at Peter. "We have, but I must ask you to leave the artifacts here until the situation is resolved. It will be dangerous if you try to take them."

"It is dangerous now." Peter moved the curtain and looked out the window, then shook his head and turned around. "Lo Si, the Triad attacked you before. Do you think they won't do it again just because they're under different leadership? It's not like before, it's not Tan. I can't protect you."

"I do not fear them."

"Maybe you should. I do."

"I know that you are not a coward, Peter."

"Bravery isn't what you feel, it's what you do in spite of it." The old man sighed. Well, Peter wasn't interested in his disappointment: his eyes roamed the room until he saw the edge of the little statue on a bookcase, only slightly covered by the many books. Peter's eyes met the Ancient's. "I'm taking this," he said, grabbing the small Sun Gwai and putting it into his bag. "Where's the scroll?" Lo Si said nothing. "I'll find it myself." Peter shook his head and walked around the room, moving books and papers. He found it under an old tea set; he rolled it up and put it in with the other smuggled artifacts.

He turned to leave, but stopped with his hand on the door frame. "I'm sorry, Lo Si," he said quietly. "I know you must think... I—" His hand on the doorknob suddenly pulled back as the temperature of the metal sank down to freezing. He pulled his hand away from the startling pain, confusion on his face. "Ow— that's cold. Why is it so—?"

The Ancient's eyes widened as the young Caine was thrown to the other side of the room. "Peter!"

Lawrence walked in, a dangerous looking smile on his cherubic face. "Look at this place! You've got good taste, old man." He grabbed a vase from a side table and looked at it, turning it this way and that. "This is real porcelain! And then there's you, the Shaolin's son who stole my stuff!" He threw the vase at Peter, who rolled out of the way quickly. It shattered against the wall, blue and white shards embedding themselves in the wall.

"Oh, you're gonna regret that," said Peter, rising to his feet and moving into an aggressive stance. There was a confident grin on his face as he dropped his bag.

Though his opponent had muscle under the doughy flesh, and though Sun Gwai understood well the use of martial arts, Lawrence's body was not that of a trained martial artist. Peter and the possessed man exchanged blows; punches and kicks flew, knocking over cabinets and books as the pair fought in the confined space. Lo Si ducked aside as Peter knocked Lawrence through the divan.

He got up, and Peter grinned once more, beckoning Sun Gwai to continue the fight. If the man in front of him had been himself, Peter's skills would have been enough. But this— this opponent had more in his arsenal than just the physical.

As Peter moved in to attack again, his body seemed to freeze. He looked at his limbs in the sudden confusion of betrayal as the man in front of him sent a hand at Peter's solar plexus, sending him hurtling backwards into a table, knocking the remainers of the Ancient's tea off of it.

Peter was struggling to rise; the Ancient moved quickly beside him, and Peter felt a strange influx of... something. Was it the old man's chi? Would it help them to slow the ghost of Sun Gwai—? But the beast in man's skin reached out and threw Lo Si against a wall far from the younger Caine.

"You have stolen something that belongs to me, Shaolin's son." Piercing eyes pinned Peter against the wall like a butterfly, and a hand followed soon after, powerful around his throat. He scrabbled at the other man's wrist, and suddenly—

It was Tan's hand around his throat. Tan— Peter kicked and flailed like a child. "Father," he choked out. "Please, stop—" Tan looked at him, really looked. "It's me, it's Peter—" The pressure around his neck reduced, stopped, and he fell to the ground, coughing.

They were in the dark Temple Tan had built as an arena for the fight against Kwai Chang Caine. The pair of them had tried to kill each other. Tan had destroyed the Temple, had forced him to murder, had made him a villain instead of a hero, but as Peter looked up at the man, he knew the truth of it: It didn't matter. He still loved his adoptive father. He missed the times they'd had dinner together. He missed the Dragon's proud look when he'd won his first shooting competition, missed his adoptive father's admonitions to show no weakness, missed the certainty of his position in his life.

The Shaolin priests had been wrong. The ghost was not this Sun Gwai. It was the man he had lived with for nearly fifteen years, his adoptive father, knocked off the wheel of reincarnation by his first father. He hadn't been able to help, then, but now— Surely now— "We can save you, father. Take my hand. We can save you."

Tan reached for him. Embraced him. "Then save me, my son. Let me in."

Sun Gwai, known to this world as Peter Caine, walked the streets of Chinatown with the bag of his personal items at his side. Ah, but they were old now. He considered his fortune: first, in finding someone who could free him from the dark tomb that those old meddling men had encased him in, then in finding this young man, well versed in matters of the underworld, heartsick and missing his daddy...

With Peter Caine's body in his thrall, this world would be Sun Gwai's to command. Brother Williams had given him memories to search, carefully and methodically, about the people of this land. They were soft and would be easy prey. They did not believe in the old ways, did not believe in the literal existence of the supernatural. They would be helpless against him.

Now, what he needed was an army, and this man, Peter Caine, was well suited to leading it. Sun Gwai had rifled through the memories during the initial possession, dragging Peter on a little sightseeing tour through his own mind. He'd left the essence of the man in a memory of his father's Temple; the Shaolin's son was not skilled enough to break free of it.

It was his other father, called a Dragon, a leader in the criminal underworld, that made Peter Caine a more suitable vessel than the emotionally damaged Lawrence. This Triad would be Sun Gwai's army, and through it, he would conquer so much more than he could have when he had lived. When he had lived, his ambition had been to take the warring kingdoms, to unify them under his flag, and to then conquer everything he could see.

Now... now, he knew that his ambition had been limited by the times. What he could see was not enough.

The question now was how best to take the world. There were many things he needed to do. His army, of course, would need to be raised. He would need to depose their current Dragonmaster, Li Sung. But there were more connections that Peter Caine gave him access to: the newly crowned Chinese Emperor could be used as a rallying point, Caine's estranged adoptive sister was running some family business that had to do with magic boxes, and his connections with the local law enforcement would work to give him cover. The Shaolin priests who knew about Sun Gwai would hesitate to hurt him as long as he held this body... Yes, Peter Caine was well positioned for Sun Gwai's ascension.

Smart and brutal would be his watch words. Sew chaos and confusion— "Caine!"

He turned. This man with the angular face was named Jack Wong, one of the men who had been loyal to Tan as well as the Triad. Sun Gwai rifled through Peter's memories. Wong was loyal to the organization, not to the man who led the Triad in particular. He would not betray Li Sung while he led, but once that man was dead, Wong would make an excellent first lieutenant.

"You've got the goods? The Dragon wants to see you. Now."

Peter's face smiled. "Then I guess we'd better go see him."

"Master!"

Kwai Chang Caine looked at the half-destroyed room in alarm. Someone had attacked the old man, and while he hoped that it was not Sun Gwai, he could not bring himself to believe it. He pushed one of the overturned tables out of the way so that he could kneel beside the fallen priest.

The Master moaned as Kwai Chang helped him up, righting the couch so that he could set the Ancient on the comfortable seat. "I am all right," he said, but Kwai Chang was concerned with the blood dripping from his head. He helped Lo Si to put the glasses on his face. "He could not kill me..." The old man laughed, and Caine gently rubbed the blood from his head. "I think I frightened him."

"He was here? Sun Gwai?"

"The ghost sensed our duty... The spirit of the ascended... of the Shaolin... threaten his being— he must have taken the scroll..." He paused for a moment, then his eyes opened. "Ah! Peter! He was here— but, my friend, I do not... sense his chi. Look, there, by the window."

The Shaolin's eyes widened and he felt a memory of the cold pass through his body. There was a cabinet and books and clothing disguising the body, but he could see it now, unmoving under the rubble. He left the Master's side and threw the cabinet out of the way, tossing aside the papers, the books, the cottons and silks— this man was not his son.

There was a brief feeling of relief before he knelt down next to the man, checking him for a pulse. "He is alive, but only barely," said the priest quietly. He opened one of the drawers in a cabinet he'd tossed, pulling out a talisman. It would be a stopgap only. Kwai Chang Caine did not have the skill to save this man; the Ancient would need to complete the healing, if even he could. "This man... he held the ghost of Sun Gwai?"

The Ancient looked at Kwai Chang with sorrow. "Yes. If he lies there, then... Peter was the only other..."

"If he attempts to inhabit another body and we are not there to help, my son will die."

"Yes." The old man tried to stand, but it was clear that he was too weak, and he fell back against the couch seat. "You must go."

"I will tend to you first, Master. It will not take long." He forced the fear down. The delay was as much for his own sake as for the Ancient's— when he faced Sun Gwai in his son's form, he might have to do damage to his own child. A part of him rebelled, but the priest in him overrode the instinctive, animal wail. All of his teachers had counselled against the distance between him and his son, but in this case, he could only think that it would help him.

He pulled out a cloth and salvaged some of the Master's medicines. "The dark power of Sun Gwai is great," he said.

"Yes, but it can be conquered. You must do as before: draw his spiritual energy into yourself and transform it."

"I have looked into its darkness," he said quietly. "I am not sure I can embrace it and be whole afterwards."

"You must, Kwai Chang Caine... for the sake of your son. The risk is great: the loss—"

"Yes. I know." His son faced it, even now. "If I do not try, my son's essence will be forfeit. I will tame the energy as best I can. But... I do not even know where I can confront this enemy—"

"What the hell happened in here?"

The Shaolin turned slightly, looking at the dark haired man. "The Ancient was... attacked," he said. "I have seen you before, with my son. You are... Kermit. You are a police officer?"

"Detective, actually." Even though his green glasses were covering his eyes, Kwai Chang could see his attention pausing on each section of damage in the room. "And you're the elder Caine. Who did this?"

"A demon," said Lo Si.

Kermit gave a brief laugh, then lowered his glasses and looked at the two priests over the top of them. "You're serious."

"We are," said the Ancient. "This man, Lawrence... he was both attacker, and attacked."

Kermit frowned; clearly, he was in touch with the material world, not with that of the spirits. It was not unexpected, but it would have been good to find an ally. "I must find my son, Master," he said, deciding to ignore the presence of the police officer.

"So the kid is in trouble? Did he take the artifacts?" Kwai Chang nodded absently while the Ancient thought. "He's probably headed to the Tse Liang..." The priest's head snapped to look at Kermit. Kermit sighed. "I told the kid not to talk to them without me nearby, but he doesn't like to listen. Doesn't know what backup's for." He shook his head again. "I'll head over there and check on your son. I'll send an ambulance for— you said his name was Lawrence? And a uniform to take your report."

Kwai Chang bowed as Kermit headed out the door.

"The Triad has repositioned itself," said the Ancient.

"Yes. I must go to my son," replied Kwai Chang. "You will be all right, Master?"

"Go, Kwai Chang Caine. You must save your son."

To say the restaurant was in ruins might have been an overstatement, but it was certainly a mess. Chairs were scattered around as if a bomb had exploded, cutlery lodged in chopping boards. A few men were moaning on the ground, butcher blades in legs. Though there was no fire, there was smoke blowing in the dim red light that reflected off of the walls.

A man he recognized from his youth— Li Sung— was in some sort of standoff with Peter, the pair of them glaring at one another. There was anger on the older man's face, while Peter's showed a feral amusement, almost animalistic in nature. Peter stood alone against three men, two of them holding guns. The Shaolin priest's entrance seemed to break a moment that held between the pair.

"Shoot him!"

"No—" Kwai Chang's eyes widened. "Peter—"

His son's arm shot out, faster than lightning, faster than the trigger fingers of the men against him. They cursed, the guns falling from their hands, white and blue from a sudden burst of cold that shocked Kwai Chang as much as the men. His son laughed, cold and raw. "I hold the power of the thunderbolt! Shall I strike you down?"

One of the men beside the Triad leader fell to his knees, eyes wide, frantically looking for salvation around the room. His eyes fell upon Caine. "The Shaolin priest! Help us!"

Li Sung did not waste time to glare at his underling, instead grabbing a curtain to protect his hand, then took up one of the fallen weapons. The demonic power that possessed his son seemed to yank the curtain upwards without Peter moving a step closer.

"A man like you must understand," said his son— but not his son. This was not Peter's voice, this was some strange, distorted... thing's voice. The curtain seemed to move of its own volition, wrapping around Li Sung's neck and twisting, tightening. "This world is contingent on power. Power that I have."

Kwai Chang stepped between the ghost and his victim. "I deny your power, Sun Gwai," said Kwai Chang, projecting a calm confidence.

Peter— no, Sun Gwai— dropped Li Sung to the floor like so much waste. "You are Shaolin, yet you would deny what is true?" The eyes looked at him, tried to look through him, but Kwai Chang Caine brought the peace of meditation to bear. A well-trained mind could quickly move past the base emotions, and Kwai Chang's mind was indeed trained. "Shaolin. Do you believe yourself to be a match for me?"

"For you?" He allowed some anger on his son's behalf as he watched the Triad members begin cutting the curtain from their leader's neck. "You hide in another's body. Face me!"

Sun Gwai laughed. "And why should I do that? You are weak against this vessel!"

"You speak of weakness? I understand you well, Sun Gwai. You cannot face me— you can only feed off the energy of others, of the already weakened: unskilled or injured." Li Sung was free of the curtain, now, edging away from the confrontation between the priest and the ghost that possessed his son's body. "You have no shape, no form and no substance. You are... smoke in the fire. You do not exist."

The energy that had taken control of his son growled. "I will destroy you, Shaolin," it hissed. "Behold: Sun Gwai!"

It was in that moment that the creature brought them to another plane of existence. Kwai Chang's heart tried to clamor in his chest, and only through the use of his prodigious will did he calm it. This place was not earth, but his mind's eye perceived it instead as some ancient battlefield.

Around them, scattered like dead logs in a forest, were the innumerable bodies of the men and women that this Sun Gwai had killed. Spears grew out of the dead like bamboo shoots; swords and shields like metal trees, and above them, a moving canopy of arrows filled the heavens and dimmed what might have been a bright sky. Dust rose from the barren ground.

Sun Gwai appeared as an ancient man of China... or perhaps he was Mongolian? It hardly mattered— the Shaolin priest's eyes glanced over Peter; the essence of his son was locked in a cage behind the fur-clad warrior, his hands white around the bars.

The possessor spoke words that Kwai Chang did not understand; an old Sinitic language that was lost to modern man, and he attacked. He was powerful, skilled, fast. Kwai Chang found it difficult to keep up with the man, but he had a duty: he would not allow this man to kill anyone else. Sun Gwai's spear flashed towards him, and Kwai Chang ducked and dodged, searching for his opening against his foe's terrible anger. He turned the spear more times than he cared to admit. He was the crane, protecting his child from the tiger—

Freeing his son from the tiger.

He kicked the lock to the cage, breaking it with the focused power of his chi. "Peter! You must fight!" His son wasted no time, opening the cage. The look on his face showed his intention to help his father, angry at the ghost that had imprisoned him— but the moment he stepped out of the metal frame, he disappeared.

If Kwai Chang had hoped for an ally, he would not have his wish, yet he was relieved.

His son's escape enraged Sun Gwai, and Kwai Chang took a moment of his opponent's distraction to throw his spear away into the forest of the dead. The two warriors fought each other, blow for blow, fist against fist, thigh against thigh. With each strike, Kwai Chang attempted to take some of that spiritual power into himself, but it was too difficult, fighting against him in this way.

There was only one way he could think of: cause the ghost to come to him. To give his spiritual energy to Kwai Chang Caine directly. But surely, he would not allow it— unless Kwai Chang gave him a reason. Unless Kwai Chang made Sun Gwai think that he would win.

This would be his only chance to banish the ghost: To take the wild and violent energy of Sun Gwai and transform it, as he had transformed the disharmonious energy of the city days before. He was afraid: the chance that he would be unable to completely his task was not insignificant, and if he failed, there would be no return for the Shaolin priest. If he did not try, however, he would loose this evil into the world regardless.

He gathered up his courage, his strength and his will. He was steady, rooted in that which cannot be named. This ghost was unrooted, a tempest. He would place that tempest in his own teapot and render it harmless. "You will have my son no longer! Possess me if you dare!"

Sun Gwai came to him, then. He could the ghost's power inside of him: the urge to visit death and destruction on all those who had visited it upon himself and his son. The anger, the rage! Tan's death was not enough. There were countless others, and they all deserved death— no, not death, they deserved to be tortured for fifteen years as he had been! Damaged beyond all recognition, forced into reliving the worst moments of their lives, their families dead but also buried alive—

His son's arms were around him. His son, shaking.

All of these people, every member of the Triad that had hurt his son— every priest that had turned their back and allowed Peter to suffer— every person that had abandoned either of them—

His son's tears on his shoulder. His son, holding on for dear life.

The dead on the ground looked at him suddenly, and they whispered to him, one by one. Their sons and daughters— just like his son! They had been kept alive by their enemies. They had grown, and changed, and become more of who they were.

His son was not dead because Tan had had enough mercy in him to leave the boy alive, to leave the boy to grow. His son. He reached for his child, and his mind rang with a strange truth: Fragments of light would always sparkle brightest in the dark.

Sun Gwai had done all the things that scroll said, but his violence was from so very long ago. It could be pacified. Tamed. "Return," he said, breathing the ghost's energy out. "Return to where you came from!"

All at once, he saw only the damaged restaurant. He stood, swaying slightly, with his son's arms around his neck, his own around his son's back. Ancient smashed coral lay around him, alongside a statue of the laughing Buddha.

He collapsed from the strain, taking his son to the floor with him.

There was a crunch of something breaking under a man's foot. Li Sung's face appeared between them. He held a gun to Peter's head and looked him in the eyes. "I should kill you for this," he said softly.

Kwai Chang had to help his son. He raised a hand, trying to pull the gun from the man's hand, but his own... missed.

Peter stared unblinking at the Triad leader. "You can't kill me, Dragon," said Peter in an almost whisper. His eyes flicked to the side. "That guy over there, trying to figure out who to arrest, is a cop. A detective. He has backup waiting. We need to cover this up for the good of the family."

Li Sung did not move or reply.

Peter licked his lips. "There was something in that statue. Sun Gwai. This wasn't me, Uncle. I couldn't do this, even if I wanted to. You know that. And my father..." Peter's eyes unfocused slightly. It was an effort for him, not just for Kwai Chang. "This Shaolin priest saved my soul and your life. That's... that's two Triad lives. You cannot repay that with death."

Li Sung's eyes flickered around the room for a moment, resting on Kermit for a beat before looking at Kwai Chang. "It seems," he said quietly, "that I have a matter of honor to resolve."

Kwai Chang drew on all the strength he had within him, then balled one hand into a fist, and gave a salute.

The Triad leader's facial expression barely changed, but Kwai Chang could read a moment of hatred directed at him before he turned to face Kermit Griffin. "Detective?"

"Yeah."

"There was a gas explosion from the kitchen." Peter grabbed his father's hand and pulled himself to his feet. "When this young man and his father came to help, I thought they had caused it in order to... rob the restaurant."

Kermit looked at the three of them for a moment, then at the destruction of the restaurant. "You agree with that, kid?"

"Yeah. That's what happened, Detective."

Griffin opened his mouth and closed it a few times, then let out a breath while shaking his head. "No one would believe this anyway," he muttered finally, and gave a hard, yet somehow still confused, stare in Peter's direction. "I'll... get the fire department out here," he said, backing out of the restaurant slowly.

Li Sung looked at the remaining people for a moment. "What you have witnessed today," he said in a clear voice, "is our business. It will not be spoken of to anyone outside this room." He looked around once more. "Now clean up the mess."