Soaring Dragon, Dancing Phoenix

by Luna Goldsun

Sequel to "That's Why They Call It the Present". The Jiao Clan may be defeated, but the past has a funny way of creeping back to haunt you, as Po and Tai Lung are about to find out...the hard way.

7. Chapter 7: Master Sun Bear

Sorry for taking so long to update. I gave you all a nice long chapter to make up for it…conveniently posted on Valentine's day and the first day of the Year of the Tiger. Sweet.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kung Fu Panda, or any of its characters. I own the OCs, so please don't use them without my permission. Thank you.

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Chapter 7: Master Sun Bear

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Neither Po nor Tai Lung were aware that they had more than just assassins after them. The knowledge they were also wanted by the Imperial army was completely unknown to them…at least when they first left. Po fingered the note the guard at the Thread of Hope had slipped him under his teacup, feeling his nerves jumbling together again. He knew his reputation as the Dragon Warrior certainly preceded him, but he had no idea that people who had never even met him felt so strongly about him. Those guards were probably risking their jobs—perhaps even their lives—to help him. Though Tai Lung had served time, Po figured he knew nothing about the ways of outlaws (though he knew more than the panda did, certainly). But the fact the snow leopard had not picked up on the jargon he'd exchanged with the Wu Sisters said enough: the Master of the Thousand Scrolls was no crook.

The Outlaw Code, as mapped out in the note, was not especially clever, nor was it original, but it served its purpose. Outlaws of any sort—bandits, assassins, and runaways—were referred to as "pilgrims", and a "pilgrimage" was their flight to freedom, or any place where they could lay low (in a "temple") until the heat died down. The guards' advice in the note was to pretend to be outlaws, and they would be safe amongst those of ill-refute. Should they encounter any officials of the Emperor, they were to call themselves pilgrims as well. Hardly anyone bothered those on a "spiritual journey", even if that journey was leading them away from punishment…

The Wu Sisters, of course, knew the code very well; they had been terrorizing China and its warlords and high-ranking nobles for over a decade. Though they had never come near enough to the Valley of Peace (perhaps for fear of the kung fu masters that lived there), their reputation far preceded them. Still, for scourges and bloodthirsty harpies…they didn't seem that bad. Wu Zhu particularly seemed like an open, cheerful individual, if not mischievous…and perhaps a little flighty; Wu Jiang was more business-like, as in, the slightest insult could find you on the business end of one of her weapons; and Wu Tian was sleek, seductive, and sly…and he wasn't sure that was entirely a bad thing. Somehow, the panda couldn't shake the feeling he had met them somewhere before, because their personalities, their mannerisms, seemed all too familiar somehow. But he still had to smirk at their names and respective meanings. Tian was "sweet"; Jiang was as spicy as "ginger"; Zhu was a "precious pearl". Sugar, spice and everything nice…that's what those little girls were made of.

Tai Lung seemed to find that funny, too. "I appreciate their parents had a sense of humor," he smirked. "Not sure I'd do that if I had three daughters."

"What if you had three boys?"

"Are you kidding? Snips, Snails, and Puppy dog tails? They'd kill me in my sleep…and if they didn't, Mei Xing probably would."

Remarkably true to Wu Jiang's word, within a mile of the Xiao Tou Inn was a massive red sandstone gate nestled between the steep slopes of a deep ravine. On either side of the narrow gorge, the inclines jutted up at seventy-five degree angles, with loose rocks and gravel making up the majority of it. Surely, they were beginning to suspect, there was a damn good reason so few people ventured on this road.

"I hope it doesn't rain," Po said. "Or we'd be dead."

"Who says we need rain to make that slope fall?" Tai Lung said, eyeing the ravine walls with similar anxiety. "I don't know about you, mate, but the sooner we're out of here, the better."

It took them the better part of the day to make it through the ravine. By nightfall, the thin gorge had settled into a larger valley with a small farming village. A farmer was kind enough to let them stay the night in his barn, and Po and Tai Lung were so exhausted from the arduous trek and paralyzing fear of rock slides that they fell in two large heaps on fresh beds of straw. By morning, the farmer's wife—a sweet white-wooled ewe—gave them a hearty meal and some provisions to last them until Yunnan. Fully rested, they continued on along the Red Bird Pass, finding that the majority of the way took them through steep, craggy mountains, along thin roads that barely had enough room for two men to march shoulder-to-shoulder.

Northern Guizhou was as arduous as Tai Lung had predicted. Yunnan was slightly worse. But as hard as taking the less-beaten path was, both of them were rather amazed at their luck. It should have taken two weeks to get from the Valley of Peace to the Phoenix Temple. At the rate they were going, they might only be another couple days before they got there.

They passed over the Yunnan-Guizhou plateau, the area's rolling hills and deep gorges carved by raging rivers millennia ago granting it an indescribable beauty. In these gorges, Po routinely pointed out lines in the rock of brilliant reds, rusty browns and golden yellow, as if ribbons had frozen in with the stone back when the world began. The mountains' tall majesties, variably slate grey, lapis blue and rich violet depending on the time of day and the distance, lent their own beauty and breath-taking vistas. Snow had already accumulated of many of these peaks, giving them the look of sleeping, white-haired giants, crouched shivering in the cold.

They stopped in Anshun; it was a deviation from their path, but neither of them wanted to miss the opportunity to see Huanggoushou, the largest waterfall in all of China. They heard the falls even before they reached the village by its banks, and throughout the small fishing village, over all the hustle and bustle, was the roaring of rushing water. They bought more provisions for the remainder of their trip and feasted on the charity of the fishermen, who granted them the freshest perch they had ever had. They set up camp near the falls, lost in the massive majesty of the mighty river, the thousands of gallons of water pouring over the edge, leaving rainbows and fine mists that soothed their tired, aching bodies. Po got a chance to really study Tai Lung, and saw to his amazement that the snow leopard looked so serene, just from watching the falls.

"I think that's the most relaxed I've seen you since after the Jiao War," Po told him.

The snow leopard's ear ticked up when the panda spoke, and for a long moment, he didn't know what to say. Finally, he sighed and said, "I've had a lot on my mind. So much has changed in three years…I suppose after two decades of constancy and routine, having so many possibilities opening up like this is a bit overwhelming."

"How's that?"

"You know; I told you, once, how I felt about it. All my life, until you defeated me, I had tried to become the Dragon Warrior, but I never planned past that. I never thought of getting married, or having a career, or even becoming a father. When I went to prison, those things just stopped being priorities, and now that they happened, and are happening…it's overwhelming. It happened so fast. I don't think it really hit me that my life had changed so much until I woke up one morning and realized my wife had started to show…five months along, and there it was…our baby."

He stared into the mists and continued on in a disembodied way. "I never stopped to think about it. But I don't regret it. How could I? Mei Xing is the best thing that could have happened to me—I couldn't ask for a better woman to call my wife. I couldn't ask for a better career—I don't think anything else would give me such peace; I can see where your father is coming from," he said with a small smile. "Making other people happy makes him happy, and the best way he knows to make people happy is to give them good food. I have that ability to make people happy, and that's…that's comforting."

"But you still feel like something's missing," Po guessed.

"Wouldn't you?" the snow leopard asked rhetorically. "True, you were raised with lower expectations than I had—"

"No, you were raised with Shifu's expectations, not your own."

"There's no difference."

"There's a heck of a difference—all you wanted from your adopted dad was his support and his love, and you thought the only way to do that was to become what he wanted you to be, not what you wanted to be…just like me."

Tai Lung realized—and with extreme guilt—exactly what Po was saying. "So…so you know that Mr. Ping isn't…?"

"Isn't what?" the panda had a quizzical look on his face.

Tai Lung bit his tongue. Did he really not know? Did he have no idea that Mr. Ping wasn't…wasn't his real father? Well, how could he not know? That was the question the snow leopard had asked. He knew when he was a young child that Shifu wasn't his biological father, and while that had been a painful realization that—for one reason or another—his real family had not wanted him, it was even more painful in the cub's childish reasoning that he had trusted his baba to tell him the truth, and who had instead been feeding him lies. Years of hindsight and soul-searching proved that this thinking was flat-out wrong: Shifu kept acting like the snow leopard's father, because he loved his adopted son too much to let him think anything else. And perhaps for the same reasons, Mr. Ping kept up the charade.

Though now, looking at Po…he couldn't do it. Tai Lung could not—and would not—be the one to deliver that news. After all, it was impossible for a goose to beget a panda, just as it was impossible for a red panda to beget a snow leopard. Despite Oogway's steadfast belief that "nothing is impossible"…Tai Lung had to disagree. There wasn't a way in heaven or on earth that a bird and a mammal could be directly related. But as long as Po was blissfully ignorant of that, then Tai Lung could be happy.

"Isn't what?" Po repeated.

Tai Lung thought fast, and was amazed—and slightly worried—at how fast he came up with a good lie. "…That he isn't as supportive as he could be. Nothing against your father!" he said quickly. "He's a wonderful person, and hell, he makes me feel like I'm his own flesh and blood! But panda, I get the feeling that—I mean, he's proud of you, I'm sure—but he still wishes that…"

"…That I'd follow in his footsteps and be a noodle chef," Po said, dejected. He picked up a smooth river stone and turned it over in his hand. "Yeah, I figured as much."

"Po, he still loves you."

"Yeah, I know he does, but…is it wrong for me to still want to make him happy, even if what makes him happy isn't what makes me happy?"

"Erm…" the snow leopard paused. "Given my history, I'm not sure I'm the best person to answer that…"

"So short answer: yes."

"No, or maybe…I don't know. I mean," he sighed, trying to formulate the words. "We all know by now that the reason I wanted the Dragon Scroll was because Shifu wanted it; I had a better chance of becoming the ultimate warrior than he did. And if I became the Dragon Warrior, I could be a son he could be proud of. And I wanted something solid, something big, something that he could be proud of." He chuckled ironically, "And now I'm a chef."

"And you make some kick-ass crab wontons," Po pointed out. "Even Dalang is jealous of that!"

Tai Lung smugly buffed his claws on his chest. "Well, I don't like to brag…"

Po snorted.

They laughed then simultaneously sighed and stared at the falls, slowly falling into a meditative state just by watching the crashing waters against the rocks at the bottom. After a while, Po got up to wash his bowl out in the river, leaving his friend to his thoughts. Kneeling at the water's edge, the panda started scrubbing to get the dried rice and other particles off the lacquered bowl, but as he poured the remaining water out, he noticed something rippling in the rushing waters. There was a flash of something, like the silvery sheen of fishes' scales, then a sinuous shape coursing through the river. He thought it had to be his imagination, or a misidentification. It couldn't be what he thought it was…could it?

His stomach suddenly growled, and it wasn't from hunger. Bad fish, he thought. Something's not agreeing with me…'cause I coulda sworn…

No. No, they were myth, weren't they?

"Panda, you all right?" Tai Lung called out to him.

Po shook himself out of it and turned back. "Yeah, yeah, I think so…"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…I guess I'm just a little tired."

Tai Lung looked up at the sky and noticed how late it was getting. "Then get some rest I'll take first watch…"

They quickly finished eating, doused their fire, and camped for the night. At daybreak, they were already well on their way to Yunnan.

When they passed over into Yunnan, they quickly discovered that one of Mei Xing's more memorable sayings was all too true about her home province: "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes" (she had also mentioned something about mosquitoes being big enough to make a meal out of…which Tai Lung hoped she was joking about). Within an hour, the skies opened up and poured as much rain as the Huanggoushou Waterfall probably deposited in a day. But they trekked onward, despite the rain, then the sudden hot sun, then quick cloud cover, and finally camped for the night when they discovered a cruel wind biting at their damp clothes. By morning, there was frost on the ground, and they griped about the "crazy weather" and the frigid morning temperatures. An hour or so after breaking camp, not only was it warm and sunny again, but they found themselves standing in front of a sign that read: "Welcome to Sichuan".

"How'd we get here so fast?" Po asked. "It should've taken us five days from start to finish!"

Tai Lung shook his head in wonderment. "I haven't the foggiest."

They crossed into Sichuan. Just as the Wu Sisters had said, the southern part of the Sichuan province was flat and rife with life. They passed fields of rice and grain, orchards overflowing with their ripened bounty, and always a friendly face. Some farmers, busy with their harvest and preparations for winter, handed them fruits and vegetables as they passed, but for the most part avoided them. Occasionally, they encountered characters on their route who certainly looked like outlaws; neither party said anything to the other, only offering curt nods in acknowledgment; the silent agreement was there: we didn't see anything if you didn't. It took them one and a half days to cross Southern Sichuan, even after stopping to view the Giant Buddha of Leshan, a massive statue said to have been carved right out of the cliff face by a blind monk.

They followed the border around northwestern Yunnan for a day, then found to their amazement that less than a week after crossing the Thread of Hope, they were standing upon the Tibetan plateau…and stretching before them, jutting up into impressive spikes that touched the floor of Heaven, stood the Himalayan range.

"Did it really just take us a week to get here?" Po asked, mesmerized by the awesome sight of snow-capped mountains rising like sentinels above the plain of golden grasses. Not even being near the mountain, they found the air much thinner here, and their breaths turned to fog in front of their faces. To Po's amazement, even Tai Lung was taken aback by what he was seeing.

"Not even Mongolia's mountains can compare," he breathed. Po chanced a glance towards him; he hadn't expected the snow leopard to look happy at the memory of Mongolia, but maybe…maybe when he had escaped prison, he had taken his time to enjoy nature's wonders, just as he had on this trip. Maybe the real reason it had taken nearly a week or so for Tai Lung to make it to the Valley of Peace from Chorh-Gom was that he had periodically stopped to enjoy the sights and exquisite freedom he had been denied for two decades. Despite the time constraints and the other stresses they were under, it looked like his friend was actually enjoying himself.

"Think you'll bring your kids out here someday?" the panda asked. He bit his tongue when the snow leopard frowned slightly, reminded of what he had left behind back home…then he smiled.

"I'd like that. You know, I never got much of a chance to see China before; it was always work, work, work... Oogway and Shifu went everywhere, all over the place, fighting enemies and great battles, yet I always had to stay home. The farthest I ever went was Hubei…well, at least before Chorh-Gom, anyway…" he paused, then nodded. "Yes, I'd like my children to travel. It would do them a world of good, I think." With that, they continued on.

There was frost on the ground here already; it would likely snow within a month. Wu Lien had warned them of the high elevation and the cold climate. Apparently frost covered the ground six months out of every year. The land was little more than arid steppes, and the lakes and few rivers they encountered were mostly brackish.

The further they went into the interior, the more people they saw. Then, to their relief, they found road signs…which were, unfortunately, written in Tibetan. They rested and waited for someone to pass them to enquire which direction the Phoenix Mountain was. A passing vagabond politely pointed their way, then left the two warriors to their own devices. Not too long later, they came upon another red sandstone gate, exactly like the one at the beginning of the Red Bird Pass.

They shared a grin. They'd made excellent time—better than if they had taken the Bing Yuan Road—and now were exactly where they needed to be. Below the gate, in a shallow valley, was a small village of hovels and huts, sitting like eggs in a nest at the foot of a steep mountain of red rock, whose pinnacle was hidden behind heavy blankets of clouds, mist and snow. But judging by the reddish soil and the numerous carvings of long-tailed pheasant-like birds in various rocks and lone trees, there was no denying they had made it to the Phoenix Mountain.

"Why would the Wu Sisters lie about it existing, though?" Po wondered.

"Because they're the Wu Sisters?" Tai Lung offered. "Come on, I want to get this over with. Maybe some farmer or another will let us crash in their barn again…"

Unfortunately, they weren't able to make it to the village by nightfall. Instead, they opted for sleeping in a cave on the outskirts of the village, which was a truly miserable experience. It was noticeably colder here, and the constant drip-drip-drip of water in the various corners of the cave did little to aid their quest for sleep. By morning, they were still tired, sore, and miserable as they finally entered the village.

Whatever Po was hoping for when they finally reached the Phoenix Mountain, they both got more than he ever expected. When they reached the village at dawn, locals, mistaking the pair for wandering monks, gladly gave them food and money, which they tried unsuccessfully to decline. Each denial was taken as modesty, which was thus rewarded twofold.

"Can't these people take a hint?" Tai Lung griped, passing off a basket of hard-boiled eggs to some hungry-looking children. "How could they mistake us for monks? Even after we told them we're not?"

"Give it a rest, bud," Po said, rolling his eyes. "At least they were nice enough to point us to the path to the temple…"

They stopped just shy of a carnelian-red moon gate, then gazed up a stairway that went up a steep incline and disappeared into the thick mists. Through the vaporous veil, an unpaved path meandered like a serpent through rocks and boulders, straight to the top, where, just barely visible through the misty peak, a red building stood precariously perched at the pinnacle. The steepness of the slope alone should have been daunting enough, but the rest of the way was fraught with jagged rocks, and heavy boulders that looked ready to topple over onto an unsuspecting traveler. Besides that, thick mists covered the rocks and disguised the path, which probably held more dangers than they could see.

It was at that moment Tai Lung uttered the famous last words: "It doesn't look that hard to climb. How bad could it be?"

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Hours after they began their ascent up the mountain, Tai Lung was long past starting to regret his words. At about sundown, the pair dragged themselves up the slope, panting and perspiring from the climb in such thin air. Tai Lung's claws dug deep into the rock, his muscles straining from lack of oxygen. He paused to catch his breath while he waited for Po, who was lagging a good few yards behind him, further down the steep incline.

"How bad could it be, he says," Po breathlessly griped when he finally caught up to the snow leopard. "It isn't that far, he says…it took us all day to get here!"

Tai Lung was breathing about as hard as the panda was, his hands on his hips as he took deep breaths to ease the dizziness from the altitude. "Alright, so I was wrong," he admitted breathlessly. "I'm mortal, mortals can be wrong…Gods, growing up in the Valley spoiled me…"

"I was about to say," Po said, huffing and puffing. "Your lungs should be adapted to this kinda weather."

"Yes, well, not even the mountain Chorh-Gom was built on was this tall…" he huffed. "Now where the bleeding hell is this monastery? Can't see a bloody thing through this fog…" then he stopped, looking up the slope as the mists parted to reveal their hidden treasure.

A large red-walled edifice jutted out from the mountain, as if carved from the very rock itself. Blue clay roof tiles adorned the red sandstone walls, lined with prayers in Tibetan script in golden-yellow paint. Multi-colored prayer flags flapped in the mountain winds, which whistled through the jagged peaks, sounding ominously like ghosts' wails. A seven-layer pagoda jutted up from the middle of the complex, casting a long shadow over the path ahead, which had turned from dirt road to paved hexagonal tiles once again, remarkably clear of dirt and dust despite the harsh winds. From behind the walls came unmistakable sounds of music, chanting and drums, and the tinkling of prayer bells. And before them, only a few yards up the slope, stood two large double-doors, brilliantly painted in reds, oranges and yellows, the image of a phoenix rising from the ashes of a great pyre, its head held high and wings outstretched as it soared above the destruction that gave it life.

"Looks like the place," Po remarked offhandedly.

Tai Lung snorted at the understatement as the pair stared up at the impressive converted fortress. "Hardly looks like a temple, though," he remarked.

"Well, wasn't Sun Bear a mighty warrior before doing the whole monk thing? Maybe this is where he set up shop before he retired?"

"I'm not one to believe that one 'retires' from the warrior's lifestyle."

"I don't think so either," Po said as they started to climb the steep path. "Your dad didn't retire—and I don't think you ever will."

Tai Lung helped the panda along the best he could. The leopard's large paws served him perfectly as he struggled to keep upright on the steep, gravelly path. "Would it surprise you to hear I've actually considered it?"

Po stumbled a bit on the loose gravel, then glanced at his friend. "You? Retiring? But…kung fu is your life!"

"Kung fu was my life," he said dejectedly. "I've already spoken to Mei Xing about it…"

"Does she agree with you?"

Tai Lung sighed, offering his hand to the still-stumbling bear. "She seems to think I shouldn't give up on something I've known my whole life…like I'm abandoning it, throwing away all I've learned."

"But you're not," Po said, finally standing straight and climbing the path side-by-side with the snow leopard. "You still abide by the morals of it…but it sounds like you don't want to fight ever again."

"Exactly."

"So why did you even come on this journey?"

Tai Lung paused, clearly running over the conflicting thoughts in his head. When he finally spoke, his answer surprised the panda: "I came to find out how to protect the ones I love, obviously. But I suppose I also came to find my purpose. Maybe this is a cheap shot at humility, or maybe this can provide the answers I want. Auntie put it best, I think: I know who I am, because I know where I came from, and that's half of one's identity. I just don't know the other half."

"What would the other half be, though?" Po wondered. "I was raised to think that your family was your identity."

"Perhaps, as we are definitively not normal people, you and I have something lacking?"

"What could we be lacking? We have everything we want: a home, roof over our heads, food on the table, friends and family who love us…we have everything anyone could ever want!"

"True…but do we have everything we need?" The snow leopard let this sink in before they reached the large gates of the monastery. He sighed, "I don't mean to be difficult, you know that. Knowing my family, my ancestors, and where I come from…that means more to me than you'll ever know. Had I been the Dragon Warrior, my identity as a man would have been complete. As Shifu once put it, 'a man is not truly a man until he knows who he is'."

"So…you're saying our stay here will tell you who you are?" Po asked.

Tai Lung shrugged. "Shifu seemed to believe my destiny waits behind these walls," he said, looking up to the battlements. "The Dragon Scroll was not my destiny…but maybe this new scroll is. I've got too many questions about it, about these new…abilities, whatever they are; I intend to find out. I know you're as curious about the Dragon Warrior's full abilities as I am to know the Phoenix Warrior's."

"Well yeah, duh," the panda rolled his eyes. "Would've been helpful if, y'know, Oogway'd written down something."

"Yes, well," the snow leopard returned the gesture, "He had a history of being almost helpful. Now let's get inside before we freeze."

"You realize you're a snow leopard, right?" Po asked.

Tai Lung grumbled. "Shut up."

Then he pounded on the gong hanging by the doors. The deep ringing echoed off the jagged peaks, the last tremors dying on the wind. Tai Lung stepped back and stood next to Po, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Nearly an hour had passed, and the sun was quickly setting. To say Tai Lung was irritated could go without saying. But even Po, who was known for his greater reserves of patience, was aggravated. "Okay, are they all deaf? People in Heilongjiang could've heard that gong!"

"So ring it again," the snow leopard snapped. "I'm amazed you lasted this long…"

"This coming from the guy with no patience whatsoever?"

"I'm better than Mantis, grant me that."

"Not by much," Po muttered.

"I heard that!"

Po slammed the gong again. They waited until the last plaintive note had fallen silent before sharing another look. Nothing. Not a single movement to suggest that anyone had heard them, or that anyone inside the monastery was coming to answer the door. Now they were incredibly irritated. Drawing on a silent agreement, Tai Lung rang the gong again, and Po followed soon after. By the time Tai Lung was raising his fist to ring the gong a fifth time, a face peeked over the battlements and shouted angrily at them.

The face—a canine monk in orange robes—glared down at the pair and snapped, "What do you want?!"

"Let us in!" Po called.

"What's the password?" the monk on the other side demanded.

"Let us in, gods-damn it!" Tai Lung snapped.

The monk pointed to a jar by the door. "That will be three fen."

Tai Lung narrowed his eyes at the jar, then looked at the monk quizzically. "…What?"

"Three fen—put three fen in the jar."

"Why?"

Po cleared his throat and pointed at the sign above the jar. Tai Lung froze, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. In unobtrusive writing—suitable for a monk—were the words "Swear Jar", and underneath the aforementioned title were listened numerous curses and four-letter words, each with a set price ascribed to it. Sure enough, 'gods-damn it' was worth three fen. A postscript beneath the list stated "all proceeds go towards a positive rebirth". He groaned, "A swear jar? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"That will be three jiao," the monk curtly replied.

Po tugged on the snow leopard's sleeve and whispered, "Its only three jiao, and three fen. Just pay it and we can get in."

"I'm not paying for every swear word that comes from my mouth!" he hissed, stubbornly crossing his arms. "It's the principle of the thing!"

"This is a monastery; you can't expect these guys to swear as much as you do."

"So what, you expect me to give that up completely? Bullocks, that's not happening."

"If I were him," the monk said. "I'd provide a down payment if he wanted to come in here."

"Screw you," the snow leopard muttered, feeling slightly guilty that he was saying this to a monk—a very irritating monk, but a monk nonetheless. He had morals, but they simply were not always at the forefront of his priorities.

Po had had enough. They had not come so far just to be turned away, and he made sure to tell off this monk who was barring their path.

"Look, we came a long way to see Master Sun Bear…"

"Don't care. Go away."

Now incredibly irritated, the panda drew himself up to his full height (and considering he stood about as tall as his feline companion, that was saying something). "We came all the way from the Jade Palace to see him, under orders from Grand Master Shifu—"

"Good for you, now go away!"

"Oi," Tai Lung snapped. "You can't talk to him that way!"

"All visitors must be treated as any other pilgrim," the monk sniffed. "Here, all are equal before the eyes of the Enlightened One."

"What about the emperor? Do you force him to pay three jiao—"

"And three fen," Po reminded him.

"—Shut up—for every curse word? Would you bar him too?"

The mutt monk nodded, "Of course; this is to weed out the insincere. Besides, he's not my emperor."

Tai Lung groaned and slapped his hand to his forehead. He muttered to Po, "Buddhists…"

"What?"

"Buddhist monasteries do this all over the place. I visited one once when I was younger, with Shifu and Oogway. We ended up waiting outside the gate for three days until they let us in."

"Three days? We barely have enough food left for one day!"

"Your fault, not mine!" the monk interjected.

"Bugger off!" Tai Lung snapped. "Look, I've got very little patience…"

"No kidding," said the monk.

"Sod off. Now if you don't open this gate," Tai Lung said, dropping into a low battle stance, "I'll open it for you."

"You're going to regret that."

"The hell I will!"

"Five jiao."

"For what? For saying 'hell'?"

"Ten jiao."

"Wait," Po asked. "What if he's saying it in reference to the place? Y'know, as a proper noun?"

"He didn't mean it as a proper noun."

"How do you know?"

The monk promptly fell into a lecture: "Take the placement of the offending word within the sentence. He has placed the H-word in a position prior to the subject, being 'I'. The verb 'will' comes at the end of the sentence in this particular predicate-subject-verb structure. Therefore, one can only assume that the H-word was used as a…"

"Are you quite finished?!" Tai Lung cut off the grammar lesson, his tail frizzing up from stress. "This damn door—"

"Three fen," the monk tallied.

"—is coming down, even if it kills me!" Tai Lung's patience, naturally short in supply, had been quickly depleted, and so help him, he would give that monk that three fen, and it wouldn't go to a very happy place… He should have been bothered by the intense levels of violence he felt at this particular holy man, but he was behaving in a distinctly unholy manner…at least he thought so.

But as soon as Tai Lung launched for the door, the massive ancient structures gave way, revealing a short, stringy figure garbed in golden yellow robes. His grey fur hung from his thin frame, like moss upon an ancient tree, the pelt hinting that once, long ago, this animal had significantly darker fur. The weather-beaten look on the abbot's face—for he was most certainly the Master of this mountaintop domain—portrayed him as a man used to braving the elements and working outside. In fact, the ancient master's eyes were squinted so closely into a permanent glare they appeared to be shut, but in fact, was the result of one who had spent the better part of his life in the bright sun. Unlike Shifu, who appeared weighed down by all his troubles past and present, this master stood tall and firm like an impenetrable mountain.

But more to Tai Lung's shock was that, as he expected to run right into the old bear, the grey bear quickly sidestepped and grabbed the snow leopard by the back of his collar, yanking him back. Tai Lung reacted in kind, grabbing the loose sleeve of the saffron-yellow robe. Before the astonished eyes of the monks and the Dragon Warrior, the old master and the snow leopard launched into an impressive display of close-quarters fighting, the bear's wrinkled fist full of Tai Lung's collar, and Tai Lung's claws firmly gripping his opponent's sleeve.

The old master successfully deflected a punch, and just as abruptly, the pair stopped, staring at each other, studying. The bear's squinted eyes narrowed further as he scrutinized his opponent, then they widened in surprise.

"You didn't intend to hit me," he said, his voice surprisingly low and strong. "You were going to intentionally miss me, weren't you?"

Tai Lung's eyes flicked to the side, catching on that they had an audience in the other curious monks. "Er…well, I can't exactly hit an old man, can I? Even I know that's low."

"And you are?"

He thought about how to answer that. As he had told Po, though he had been cleared in the Valley of Peace, Tai Lung was still considered Public Enemy Number One throughout the rest of the empire, as far as the Imperial Guards were concerned. Adding to that, he would be traveling with the Dragon Warrior. Any one who believed this was an advantage was either naïve or dim-witted. Po had been forewarned of the possibility of assassins being after him, or other warriors willing to do as Jiao Shen had: killing him, and thus assuming the title by default. Therefore, it served both their best interests to travel under numerous pseudonyms, and Tai Lung knew which one he should use here.

"Tenzin," he answered.

The grey bear stared at him a moment longer, then offered a slow, yet strained, smile. "Tenzin, eh? 'Protector of the Sacred Path'…is that what you are?"

"I don't know what I am; that's why I'm here."

"Good answer." The bear turned to look at Po. "And you are?"

Po didn't hesitate. "Shang."

Tai Lung blinked, then stared at Po in surprise. It took him a moment to process the bear's homage, and when he did, he smiled; he had adopted the name of Dalang's slain brother as his alias. Tai Lung was certain that if Dalang were to know of this, he'd likely be both touched and honored.

The yellow-robed bear stared at the panda a moment longer before letting go of Tai Lung's collar. "Very well, Shang and Tenzin, welcome to the Temple of the Phoenix." He then turned and called off the other monks. "They're guests of mine, brothers. Let them pass in peace. So, Tenzin, was it?"

The snow leopard loosened his grip on the bear's sleeve. "Yes…erm, were you somehow expecting us?"

"In a way," the bear said, burrowing his hands inside his wide sleeves. He glanced at Po as the panda stepped across the threshold. "My visions told me to expect two strangers today, and I can only assume by your…" he arched a bushy grey brow, "…fascinating manners that you are the ones I am expecting. Not very surprising—if the both of you are who I think you are, then I have been waiting for you two for a long time. Fifteenth Brother," he growled at the gatekeeper monk, low and slow, enunciating each word. "Don't let there be a next time, are we understood?"

The monk bowed low, apologizing profusely. The old master waved him off, then beckoned the two travelers. "Follow me. There is much to discuss, much to learn, much to teach. But first, food and rest. It is a long trek from the Valley of Peace."

Po balked. "How did you know…?"

"Simple. People from the Valley of Peace tend to be far more idealistic and individualistic than other areas of China…quite a bit more rebellious too," he eyed the snow leopard. "But the most elementary reason…the robes you're wearing say 'Made in the Valley of Peace' on the tag."

Po and Tai Lung stared at each other before Tai Lung tugged on the back of Po's collar to check. Sure enough, there was a tag on the back of the collar with the characters for "Made in Valley of Peace, Hunan".

"Well I'll be damned," he swore.

The yellow-robed master cleared his throat and pointed at a conveniently placed Swear Jar. Tai Lung sent him an incredulous look, then after a long staring contest, the snow leopard sighed and opened up his money bag. "Fine…" he grumbled.

Po cleared his throat and asked the bear, "So, does that mean you're…"

The old bear turned back to smirk in a most un-monk-like way. "That's right. I am Master Sun Bear."

---

He officially welcomed them in the monastery's library, where two monks were inscribing scrolls from older texts, hunched over their desks, eyes squinted as they nearly pressed their noses to the parchment. Master Sun Bear led the two warriors over to a room in the back, so they would not disturb the scribes. They sat on cushions on the floor, Po and Tai Lung trying their best not to look too uncomfortable. Used to the general splendor of the Jade Palace, this monastery looked dank, dark, and so dreary that Tai Lung would later remark that "a graveyard has more cheer".

"I'd offer you something to eat," Master Sun Bear began, "but as monks, there is very little we can offer by way of comfort. We will feed you, of course; we have never turned anyone away, if they needed it. But first, you must tell me why you're here."

Po and Tai Lung shared a look, each daring the other to start first. When Po gave him the most significant look, Tai Lung sighed raggedly and began. "I…I guess I'm a fallen warrior."

"You guess?" Sun Bear asked with a straight face. "Meaning you don't know?"

"That's the point, isn't it?" the snow leopard argued. "I had the chance for honor and glory, and I blew it, and it cost me dearly. The people I hurt directly have since forgiven me, and I've moved on, tried to make a better life for myself, a peaceful life…but I still feel like something's missing."

"Ah, a mid-life crisis; got it." Sun Bear's clipped answer was surprising, but more so when he suddenly turned his attention to Po, giving Tai Lung no room to object. "And you?"

Po swallowed hard and replied. "I haven't always been a warrior like my friend here, but…we recently found out that someone is plotting to hurt our families, and I want to know how to protect the ones I love. I already know some kung fu, but I don't think its enough."

"A noble endeavor, to be sure," Sun Bear nodded. "You are not the first panda warrior, to be frank. Perhaps it is your upbringing in the Valley of Peace—for that is indeed a Valley accent you speak with—that has made you so…soft, shall we say?" He cleared his throat and continued, "But most giant pandas are fierce creatures and even fiercer warriors, despite their fluffy and cuddly appearance."

"Me? Fierce?" Po asked with genuine confusion.

Sun Bear smiled so thinly it looked to be forced. "That is the appeal of being an ursine warrior."

Tai Lung interjected, "Other warriors will underestimate them." And he had; oh, had he ever. The words still rang in his ears: 'You? Him? He's a panda, you're a panda! What're you going to do, big guy, sit on me?' Tai Lung had misjudged Po, and while he'd been completely humiliated by his defeat, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he shouldn't have been. Being defeated by a panda—or any bear—wasn't such a bad thing, if you survived. In his years as a warrior, the snow leopard was lucky to have only fought one bear…and that monochromatic ursine was sitting right next to him.

Sun Bear smirked knowingly at him. "Exactly. I'm guessing you have experience in this field?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Fair enough. Well, it seems your fears and desires are legitimate, and all good reasons to seek us out. The question of why you chose this place above others is a mystery, though I'll assume the Late Master Oogway mentioned me once; it will not be the first time, nor will it be the last, if I live much longer. If you do intend to stay to seek what you are seeking, there will need to be ground rules."

"Okay," Po nodded.

"First, you must accept all the rules and regulations of the monastery. That includes discarding all earthly possessions excepting the clothes on your back, a blanket, and a bowl for food.

"Secondly, you must accept our standard of living. No one shall receive special treatment. You are on a spiritual journey, and pride will only distract you from the course you seek. Considering your circumstances," he nodded at Po, "We will try to find these answers as soon as possible. Though I warn you, it could take years—"

"YEARS?!" Tai Lung gaped. "We don't have years!"

"One can not expect to find enlightenment on a strict timeline, warrior," Sun Bear tersely advised.

"I'm not looking for enlightenment!" the snow leopard growled and abruptly stood. "I'm looking for purpose! And right now, I'm thinking my purpose is to be back at home with my wife. She needs me a hell of a lot more than I need you!"

Sun Bear simply stared at him, then silently bid him to sit. "Married, are you? And a father-to-be…your first child, I'm guessing?"

The snow leopard nodded, mystified that he'd been found out. Was he really so transparent?

Sun Bear closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "No wonder you are so anxious. Well, I can't guarantee anything, but if I know more about you, Master Tenzin, perhaps we can help you find your purpose sooner rather than later."

Tai Lung fell silent, sitting down again and resting his palms on his knees. "I'm not sure how much I'm comfortable revealing…"

"The source of that discomfort comes from pride, which you have a lot of, it seems."

Tai Lung drew back when Sun Bear leaned forward, peering into the snow leopard's face. For the first time, the snow leopard felt as if this other male could and most certainly would look into his soul to see what lay beneath…and that thought terrified him. This fear did not escape the old master's notice.

"Yes, a lot of pride…but I also see a lot of fear, and a lot of pain." He paused, and then sat back, burrowing his hands in his wide sleeves. "You have been done a grave injustice, many injustices…but have committed many yourself. And if I am not mistaken, you look at your sins and see your punishment as justified, don't you?"

"Nothing could justify the punishment I received!" he snarled.

"I agree. The problem with an eye for an eye is that both eyes end up blind, and both hearts are hardened to stone," Sun Bear replied. "Justice is only thinly veiled revenge, and revenge is a far greater evil than most men realize."

"So we just let people walk all over us, do we?" Tai Lung asked.

"Absolutely not," Sun Bear said. "No one can make you feel inadequate unless you let them. And you—both of you—appear to have let the slings and arrows of others affect how you behave. This must not do. Now, is there anything else you want to say before we continue?"

Panda and snow leopard shared a look. Tai Lung wanted to ask about the Phoenix Scroll, and Po wished to inquire about the legends of the Dragon and Phoenix Warriors. It was Po who spoke first.

"Why is this place called the Phoenix Temple?"

Sun Bear thinly smiled again. "A most common query; and I have no misgivings indulging your curiosity.

"It is said that long ago, back before China was ever an empire unified under a single banner, there was a mythical bird that lived at the top of this very mountain. The people worshipped the bird as a Triple God—of life, death, and rebirth—the one that ensured that the karmic cycle continued to turn. In that time, the land that was to become China was embroiled in bitter civil wars between the provinces, generals and warlords doing battle against each other daily. Families were torn apart, lives ruined…and it was in this time that the people prayed more fervently for deliverance from the violence and death that had thrown the karmic cycle out of balance. The heavenly bird—the Phoenix—answered their prayers by bestowing a warrior that would protect them from the evils that plagued the land.

"This warrior was said to have been one who had lived, died, and been reborn to far greater power than mere mortals are thought to possess. That he was a gift from the gods in a time of crisis. Whatever the truth may be, this warrior fought back the armies single-handedly, laid warlords low, defeated and completely destroyed all who opposed him; but he was by far not the greatest ever to live. Tell me, as you are both from the Valley of Peace; are either of you familiar with the legend of the Dragon Warrior?"

Both warriors perked up, struggling to fight back their astonishment. If Sun Bear noticed, he did not let on, though Po had the feeling that this old master knew they were not who they said they were. "Erm," Tai Lung began, "We're vaguely familiar with it…I've heard things."

"Ditto," Po nodded.

Oh, Sun Bear definitely knew they were lying, that much was obvious, given the sharp stare he sent both of them. But he didn't pursue it. "I see. Well, you are familiar with the legends, that the Dragon Warrior was the greatest ever to live, and that the very first—for there was a first, many centuries ago—who unraveled the secrets to limitless power, and decided to share these secrets with those who needed it most.

"However, not all people have the purest intentions for learning these secrets. He discovered this the hard way. He taught the wrong person the secret to ultimate power, and that person betrayed him, and nearly killed him. The Dragon Warrior took the secret with him to a high-security location: the Jade Palace.

"Its location was vital, and rather circumspect. The great sage, Grand Master Oogway, the Author of Kung Fu, saw the Valley of Peace as the perfect place to conceal the secret, but rumors have a way of leaking out…fortunately, the Dragon Scroll was well-protected by the Devil's Mouth, which as you well know, is the deep gorge that separates the Valley from the mainland, accessible only by a thin, rickety old rope bridge—aptly named the Thread of Hope—that can be cut at a moment's notice. It is too fragile for an army to cross, and very few souls are brave or stupid enough to cross it in search of treasure. This was why the Jade Palace was chosen."

"But wait, I heard there was an average of two Dragon Warriors every couple hundred years…" Po said.

"Lies and nonsense," the Master snapped. "There was only one true Dragon Warrior—the others were imposters, trying to cash in on whatever fortune they thought the scroll led to. And every single one of them suffered for their greed."

Po promptly shut his mouth, allowing the old master to continue.

"By the time the Dragon Scroll was safe in the Jade Palace, rumors began to circulate about it—that the scroll itself had magical abilities, that whosoever possessed it was granted ultimate power over time and space, and was granted immortality. The friend who had betrayed the Dragon Warrior sought the scroll, and sought to kill him…but the Phoenix Warrior learned of the plot, and journeyed to the Jade Palace to save the Dragon Warrior's life. The Dragon Warrior was forever grateful, and in thanks to the Phoenix Warrior's selfless act, commissioned a monastery—this monastery—to be built on this very mountain.

"Now, I am aware of the rumors surrounding this place as well. Such as the rumor that there is a 'Phoenix Scroll' like there is a Dragon Scroll; that the very first Phoenix Warrior is entombed here in this mountain; that there is magic and curses, and the gift of immortality in the water…" he chuckled lowly. "Well, I may look good for my age, but mere water granting immortality?"

"Is any of that true?" Tai Lung asked. "The Phoenix Warrior being buried here, I mean…and the scroll."

"That's the thing: no one knows," he said, and he sounded sincere. "I have been here since my youth, and though I have looked, I have found no evidence to support the rumors. The legends never say what happened to the two warriors after…" he trailed off suddenly, a look in his eye telling the pair that perhaps he had said more than was wise.

"After what?" Po gently asked, not wanting to pressure the old master. Master Sun Bear sighed through his nose and lowered his voice,

"I might as well tell you. We do not speak of that battle—here, it is simply known as The Great Fight—and everyone knows what it is. The things that happened there…" he shook his head, "The things that our fellow creatures will do to us when angry enough or desperate enough…those things are the reason I don't believe Hell exists in the afterlife. Hell is here on earth, in the darkest corners of men's hearts. All the legends say is that the Dragon Warrior and Phoenix Warrior left to fight in the Great Fight…and were never heard from again."

"Did they die?" Tai Lung asked.

Sun Bear surprised him by whipping out a bamboo staff and knocking him on the head with it. "Didn't you hear me, you fool?!" the bear growled. "I said no one knows what happened to them. I think that's pretty clear!"

"You didn't have to hit me," the snow leopard grumbled, rubbing the growing lump on his crown.

"But is that all?" Po asked. "I mean, yeah, I—we've heard of the Dragon Warrior…but we didn't know there was a Phoenix Warrior too."

"But of course there was," Sun Bear said, laying the bamboo staff across his crossed knees. "The Dragon and the Phoenix make each other whole, they bring balance and prosperity. Just as with yin and yang, good and evil, so too are the Dragon and Phoenix compliments of each other. One cannot exist without the other. The Emperor and Empress of China are often referred to as the dragon and phoenix, respectively."

Tai Lung inwardly scowled. Naturally, he did not like the idea of being in a submissive, traditionally feminine role; his masculine arrogance made that very hard to swallow. But, he kept listening.

"I suggest you not bother to seek out those legends—that is not the point of your being here in the first place," Sun Bear concluded, then stood in one fluid motion. "Now, if I have indulged your curiosity enough, I think its time to acclimate you to the life of a monk. Come, there is much to be done…"

---

Po found very quickly that life here at this particular monastery was tough. Granted, that diet he was planning would be no issue: all the monks were allowed to eat was rice and weak tea, and of course whatever edible donations were given to them by the villagers below. He and Tai Lung had been brought to the gatehouse where there was a fair supply of robes for the monks' use. As "novices", they were given deep red robes much like the young boys in the compound. The boys followed them around, peeking curiously at the strange pair. Though they were not so exotic—Po saw a couple bear cubs and other Tibetan and Chinese nationals among the monks—the fact that both he and Tai Lung were complete strangers was enough to cause a fuss. One young red panda seemed to have become Tai Lung's shadow immediately, an irony the snow leopard took little time in pointing out.

Freshly garbed in the red woolen robes, they walked the grounds behind Sun Bear, who went over the rules.

"You are never to take anything that is not given to you. You are to follow the schedule that is given to you, and to obey all your superiors…which means, of course, you obey everyone in this monastery who has been here longer than you, even the youngest child."

Not that that's demeaning in any way, Po thought, knowing that Tai Lung was thinking the same thing.

"You shall not partake in sins of the flesh…" Sun Bear turned to look at them, and studied them carefully before retracting his comment. "Actually, scratch that—you probably wouldn't, even if given the opportunity. As for your training—which you shall certainly need in your quest—we will begin in the morning. You are very tired from your journey, so I will allow you to go to your cells early."

"Cells?" Tai Lung choked. Po winced; of course, anything that reminded his friend of prison wouldn't go over so well.

"There are no bars in there, Master Tenzin," Sun Bear said mockingly. "It is an open door and a small room. In the days to come, perhaps you may think this a prison, but believe me, it is not. I can make it much worse for you if you give me the chance."

They both felt a chill at the open threat.

---

The small red panda escorted them to the dormitory, the little novice obviously enamored with the two strangers. However, the cub was strangely silent the whole time he led them through the labyrinth of corridors and courtyards towards their lodgings. When Po asked him his name, the cub just shook his head and said nothing. The little monk showed them two empty rooms, and pantomimed taking their things; he showed them the storeroom of personal effects, which was locked at all times. Master Sun Bear possessed the only key to that warehouse, and had obviously unlocked it just for the purpose of these visitors leaving their personal items.

The red panda then gave them the basic necessities: a bowl for their meals, a cup for their tea, a pair of sandals each, and a blanket for their cells. Once the pair of warriors had been escorted back to their bunks, the little red panda cub bowed to them, pressing his palms together and bending at the waist before scurrying off to perform his other duties.

"Cute kid," Po said. "Kinda quiet, though."

"Panda," Tai Lung said, rolling his eyes. "He's taken a vow of silence."

"Isn't he a little young for that?"

"Any monk who's serious about the monastic life can take it at any time they want."

"So you're obviously not taking on the monastic life anytime soon."

"Shut up."

Po sighed and bent down to look through the short doorway into his sleeping quarters. There was barely enough room for a man to lie on his back and stick his legs straight out. The cells had to measure four feet by six feet, and even this was a generous measurement. There was one small square window high above, and absolutely no furniture, save for a thin straw-filled quilt that served as a mattress. The more Po thought about, the more it seemed that it would be more comfortable sleeping on the bare floor.

Tai Lung, however, looked at his new sleeping quarters with apprehension. Po put his hand on his shoulder. "It's not that bad," he said. "There aren't even any bars or chains."

"Shut up," he hissed.

"Aw c'mon, Ta—Tenzin," he quickly corrected himself, and laughed. "I mean, it's not like you're claustrophobic, or anything…"

When he didn't answer right away, Po looked at him, shocked. "…You are? Why didn't you say something?"

"It never came up." He shrugged and got on hands and knees to crawl through the open doorway. "I'm exhausted; you should get some sleep too."

"You gonna be okay?"

"Trust me, Shang, I'll live," he irritably replied.

Po squeezed his way through the door to his own cell and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was a tight fit, he admitted, feeling once again that he really needed to lose weight. Whatever Sun Bear had in store for them, hopefully it would help. As he drifted off to sleep, finally giving in to the exhaustion from the past week and a half, Po's thoughts traveled back to the Valley of Peace. He wondered how his dad was doing, how Moon festival had been, whether or not Tigress was still obsessively training (and more significantly, if she and Dalang had made up), and by far most important how Su Lin was doing. When he left, she had seemed so sad to see him go, so that meant she wasn't completely mad at him, and that goodbye kiss left him feeling she cared, but raised more questions than answers. Such as whether or not she was physically attracted to him, or just putting up a façade.

Po sighed and rolled onto his side, drawing his fingers along the cold stone floor as he pictured her in his mind. She was so wonderful, she really did deserve better than him. Po closed his eyes and prayed that whatever lessons Master Sun Bear had to teach, that they would be able to turn Po into the kind of man Su Lin deserved.

---

"Tai Lung…"

"Five more minutes."

"Get up. We need to talk."

"Not now, Mei; five more minutes, love, please…" Tai Lung yowled as the shock surged through his body, sitting straight up to face—

"I'm just going to call you Mrs. Jiao from now on, just to piss you off," he grumbled.

Ming Hua sighed and crossed her arms. "Fine, and don't bother to say 'Well hello, Ming Hua, how lovely to see you again!'"

"I would, if I weren't so damn exhausted."

"Oh, quit complaining, you're still asleep." She pointed at the floor and Tai Lung saw himself—or rather, his body—lying in a complete unconscious state of slumber.

"Not that that's unnerving in any way," he muttered.

"Tai Lung, sweetie, focus," the spectral tigress said whilst snapping her fingers to bring his attention back to her. "First things first, I need to tell you that my visitations are going to get more and more frequent, as Oogway's visitations to Po will multiply."

"Again, I don't see why you need to go through all the trouble of us having two different—"

"Because if we were assigned to the both of you, you would learn things about Po he wouldn't want you to know, and there are plenty of things I'm sure you don't want him knowing." She let this sink in, watching with a mother's careful eye how swiftly the snow leopard's demeanor changed.

"You…you know about…?"

"About what happened to you in Chorh-Gom?" she finished. "Yes; I was there with your mother." Her expression softened. "Believe me, if she had been alive, there wouldn't have been a single guard left for you to kill during your escape. I'm sure had she a demon's power, every one responsible would be drowning in the Lake of Blood long before your escape."

"She saw it? All of it?"

"She saw as much as she needed to see." Ming Hua hesitated, then said, "There is no shame in that. You are not the one who should be ashamed."

"But it happened to me, didn't it?" he asked, feeling equally weak, nauseous, and bitter.

"Despite what you might think, you are not less of a man for what happened to you."

"I should have been able to fight them," he said, extracting his claws. "I may have been immobilized, but damn it, I should have been able to kill them all!"

"And what good would that have done?" she asked as she moved about the room. The hem of her dress disappeared into the floor as she glided along the walls, and she stopped to look down at Tai Lung's sleeping form. "Had you killed them, you would have been executed before you could say 'off with his head'. No…believe it or not, there was a very good reason for you to stay there for twenty years."

"Gods, here we go…" he groaned as he rolled his eyes. "You expect me to believe that all things really do happen for a reason?"

"Actually, I do. I know from experience."

Tai Lung thought about her words, then swiftly changed the subject when he caught her meaning…or thought he did. "Did you love him?"

Ming Hua froze, turning her head slightly to look at him. "Excuse me?"

"Did you love him, your husband?"

"I'm not here to talk about me; I'm here to talk about you."

"Humor me."

When she didn't answer right away, Tai Lung decided to guess…and he was surprised to find he was right. "You did love him, didn't you?"

She hugged herself, hanging her head and looking defeated. "You must think I am weak."

"Madam, I had the misfortune of fighting three of your sons, and the honor of fighting beside two more of them. Believe me when I say that if your children are any indication, you are most certainly not weak."

"Weak of spirit, perhaps," she woefully said. "I hated him when I married him, to a point, I still hate him. I hate what he did to my friends, to my family, to the Lotus School and the surrounding village, and he did it all for his own selfish reasons. He ruined my life, and ruined me. I never went into that marriage willingly, and don't you dare suggest I did."

"I would never do such a thing," he said. "I know from Dalang, and what little I spoke of with Shang, that you despised your husband, or at least never showed any outward affection."

"Its true, I didn't." The ghostly tigress hesitated again, then confessed, "But I did begin to care, at least a little. Despite being the monster he was, he still gave me seven beautiful children, the most priceless treasures a woman could ask for. Despite the way he destroyed my past, he at least prepared for my future, plundering enough that I should be well cared-for if he died before me. After Shang was born—not long after you were born, as I understand—I noticed Shen would hang around me more, bring me gifts, special foods, and dote on me more than he doted on his own son. It wasn't until after Dalang was born that I realized Shen truly did love me. He had odd, sometimes awful ways of showing it, but he did care…"

"But he treated his sons like dirt."

She shook her head. "Not when I was alive, he didn't. I wouldn't allow it. He struck Xiang once and I nearly took his hand off. After that, he only yelled at them…though very rarely, and never when I was around. And if he ever did…"

"I'm beginning to see why Dalang likes strong women. And why he's so afraid of his own wife." He paused, then asked, "I need to know…How is she? Mei Xing, I mean. Does Mum tell you anything?"

Ming Hua hesitated, then smiled benignly. "Don't worry, your wife is fine. Believe me, as long as Nima is with her, nothing bad will happen to her. For now, you should worry about you, Tai Lung. And heed these words very carefully…"

He sat up straighter, listening closely.

"Sun Bear is very old," Ming Hua said, "but do not mistake him for being weak. Weak people do not survive long in this environment, which means he is a lot stronger than he looks. I know that in the coming days and weeks, he will tell you to do things that may contradict each other, and he will say things that don't make sense. He is being deceptive, and for good reason."

"I can't trust him," Tai Lung growled.

"I didn't say that," she said, pursing her lips. "He will try to keep you from discovering the Phoenix Scroll—"

"But he said it doesn't exist!"

"—who are you going to believe, a mortal deceiver, or someone who can walk through walls?" she imparted with a flat look.

"So the scroll does exist, and I just need to find it?" he asked her.

"I can only give you so much guidance…" she said as her image became blurry and grew fainter by the second. Her voice sounded as an echoing whisper, leading him to know that his vision was quickly ending. "But just remember," she whispered, "that the best hiding place is often in plain sight."

When Tai Lung opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the flat, chiseled wall across from him. He knew having any vision was remarkable, and most were lucky to have one in their lifetimes. But if he and Po were going to have many more…did that have anything to do with their perceived mystical abilities? And more importantly, just as with the snow leopard's strength—and temper—however these abilities manifested, would they be able to control them?

---

Lang knew better than anyone how it felt to be completely and utterly terrified of a superior. His father, though a fair man, could incite the fear of the gods into any one of his children with the mere mention of cutting a switch for a naughty child. Lang's mother, while not as forthright about it, was still a force to be reckoned with if her temper was ever stoked; the only time he had ever seen her truly angry was the one occasion an army recruiter tried to take him and his brothers away to serve the Emperor. The recruiter eventually told his comrades and commanding officers to steer clear of that family's farm…after he had recovered from his injuries, of course.

Given these two examples from his immediate family, one would assume biology would be on the young wolf's side. That could not have been further from the truth. His family had a long tradition of showing their love through teasing and ridicule, ultimately turning their second-born son into an overly sensitive coward.

That was how he'd gotten into trouble with White Wolf. At the time he thought he was brave just to steal money so he could run away from that emotional hell, and instead found himself indebted and enslaved by the very man he tried to slight. Still, a one thousand yuan debt for only stealing twenty yuan seemed a bit excessive. But because he was a coward with low self-esteem, Lang accepted it, knowing that fighting his position would get him killed.

While not well-educated (he could read, and write, but only a little, only enough characters and math to know how to run a farm), Lang was smart enough to know he was in trouble. Asmodei Koshchei wasn't called the Demon of the North for nothing. He was a worse boogey man than Tai Lung was—Lang had grown up with those stories of the dangerous, homicidal animal Tai Lung was supposed to be, so naturally, being told he had to assassinate him was enough cause for alarm.

But everything he knew about Tai Lung was fact; Tai Lung had laid waste to the Valley of Peace, inadvertently killing numerous people (though never directly, apparently), and he had broken out of an inescapable prison, killing one thousand well-trained guards in the process.

Everything he knew about Koshchei was myth and rumor. Most assassins wouldn't dare speak his name, and few of them actually knew it. The "Siberian Demon" was the most-used moniker he'd heard, along with the reputation that frightened even the Mongols. Given all the stories, the myths, and likely fabrications, Lang was most surprised not by the creature's species…but by his age.

Asmodei Koshchei was old enough to have been eighty—at least—ancient by normal Chinese standards; most peasants were lucky to live to see forty years of age. Short and stocky, and wearing long-sleeved tunics and woolen trousers in fashions so very foreign to the Chinese wolves who currently followed him, he walked with an ease that defied the stereotypes of his age. As they walked southward along that forest path, Lang kept studying their leader. He had to be pushing eighty, at least, and instead of being skeletal like most old people, Koshchei took remarkable care of himself. He was burly and far stronger than any eighty-year-old man had reason to be, with a quick mind and even quicker claws. And those eyes, those shining blue eyes, sparkling with mirth like a jolly elder, crinkling at the corners with laugh lines deep as the seas. Instead of looking monstrous, Koshchei looked…nice. Was there any other word for it? He had saved Lang from a life of slavery, and was the first person in his life to respect him, to care about his well-being. He even complimented him.

"Smallish-type!" Koshchei called. "Up front, vit me. You much slow; you are tired?"

"Uh, a little," Lang said, jogging up to the front of the line. He ignored the glares at his back, knowing Zi Hao, at least, was not happy with the leopard's favoritism.

"Ach, is no vonder—look how skinny!" the leopard said, tugging on the wolf's scrawny arm. "Vhen ve get further south, let old Koshchei find food to stuff vit, yes? Fatten this one up, grow much strong, like bear!"

Lang flushed red from the attention, and smiled. "I don't think I could get big as a bear—I was the runt of the litter."

"I vas runt, too," Koshchei smirked. "Vhen I grown, I…vhat is term? 'Kick donkey of brothers'?"

"Kicked their asses?" Lang offered a correction.

The leopard grinned and laughed, "Da, that! Ahh, I feel is beginning of good friendship, yes?"

"Uh, yeah, whatever you say."

"So, Smallish-type, vhat is name?"

"Uh, Lang, sir."

"Is strange name for Han, Mr. Ah-lang-sir—"

"Lang. Just Lang. It means 'wolf'."

Koshchei raised a brow. "Family not…vhat is vord…creative?"

Lang stared at the ground in front of him. "I was the runt, what did they care? I think they're surprised I actually lived to adulthood."

"You Han much like sons, yes? And they not treat you well? Most confusing…"

"No, we Chinese value sons over daughters, but I was weaker than even my sisters…they told me a lot that I was such a sickly baby they should've drowned me in the stream when I was born, but that I ate so little that it didn't matter anyway."

Koshchei looked at the wolf with concern. "Is how family talk?"

Lang's ears flattened against his head, and he muttered a quick reply. "How mine does, anyway."

"Is clear they not love you." Koshchei reached into his tunic for his pipe and began stuffing it with tobacco. "Vhy else they treat treasure like trash? Have I ever a son, I vould treat him like chest of gold; a daughter, treat like jewels. Children is precious, yes?"

"Why didn't you have kids?" Lang asked. Behind him, he heard one of the Half Dozen scoff and snicker. Koshchei ignored them.

"Vas much young…about your age…very pretty girl—Sonya vas name. Very pretty; not vork out."

"Why not?"

"She die."

Lang lowered his ears again. "I'm sorry."

Koshchei waved it off. "Bah, is long time. Besides, am much old—see Sonya again much soon, eh?" he chuckled at his own joke. Lang smiled half-heartedly, unsure if he should cut in and say "no, of course not, you will have many more years!" or something to that effect, or if he should laugh and join in the joke. Koshchei surprised him by throwing an arm around his shoulders; Lang's mind was thrown into a whirlwind as all sorts of scenarios flashed across his imagination, most of them ending with him meeting a very painful and very violent demise.

"Tell you vhat," Koshchei started. "Is, eh...proposition, is vord? I never haff son, and you haff bad time vit own Papa...vhat you say you be like son to me, yes?"

Lang swallowed hard, both from the fear that had dried out his mouth, and from the sudden rise in emotion at the leopard's offer. "That's a bad idea," the wolf said, but quickly covered; if was not the reason, but it was one that would cover his tail. "You don't want me. Not even my own parents wanted me. White Wolf didn't--"

"Vhite Volf is dead," Koshchei reminded. "Who care vhat dead man think? Only matter vhat living man think. And I think you vould make good apprentice."

"Then you're making a mistake. Why me? Why not one of them?" he asked, pointing back at the Half Dozen. "They're stronger, smarter, and just…better. I'm just me."

Koshchei looked down at him, blowing smoke through his sharp teeth as he thought. "Sound like young man I know once. I am thinking I can help. All you need is co-dependence."

"I think you mean 'confidence'."

"Is vhat I say," Koshchei shrugged. He took his pipe away from his mouth, exhaled some smoke and draped a heavy arm around the scrawny omega's shoulders. "Leesten, leesten..." he said, lowering his tone so that only Lang could hear him. "You and those volfs...not so much different. Is only they much bigger, yes? I am runt of litter, smallish-type of species, but I am feared, yes? You can be feared too. Stick vit old Koshchei, and people vill fear you too."

Lang thought for a moment. "So...that means no one would push me around anymore?"

"Eggs-actly!"

Well...that was actually quite an attractive proposal. At this point, Lang was tired of being pushed around, tired of being kicked and spit upon, tired of always being at the bottom of the pecking order. "It's a long way to the top," Lang said. "I don't think I could ever be like you."

A smile slowly grew across Koshchei's black lips as he bit down on his pipe. "Doan't vorry so much; I am thinking ve are more alike than you think. I am thinking you much smarter than blyadskii mudak back there," he said, thumbing over his shoulder at Zi Hao.

"Blyadskii mudak? What's that mean?" Lang asked.

Koshchei wavered. "Ehh...is saying to someone you do not like. Do not recommend using it in my homeland—natives not like so much."

"So it's an insult."

"Is much insult; I can teach more, you say things in nice vay to black volf, he think it good thing."

"So…in theory," Lang said, a delighted smile slowly growing across his maw, "I could say those things, and he'd never know what they really were?"

"Of course!" Koshchei grinned wickedly. "Use much Han svears vhen in my homeland—no one know difference! Think is compliment." He let out a harsh laugh that sounded almost like a naughty little boy playing a trick. He paused, regarding the young wolf a moment, then asked, "I teach you Russian?"

Lang lowered his ears—it was a habit as ingrained as howling. "If I'm any good at it. I wasn't good in school, either; I'd be a bad student."

"Not true, you are much good," Koshchei nodded, blowing smoke out of his nostrils. "Learn pronounce vords good—pronounce good naow; say 'blyadskii mudak' much good naow. You can learn language—much easy, compare to Han-speak."

"Chinese," Lang corrected.

"Chinese," Koshchei repeated with a nod, rolling the word off his teeth and lips. Then he smiled. "See? I am old man, and still learn new thing each day. If old man can learn, young smallish-type volf learn much quicker."

Lang thought about it, then internally shrugged. What did he have to lose? "So…aside from blyadskii mudak…what other insults are there?"

---

"Admit it."

"Admit what?"

"Admit that he actually did something right."

"No way in hell."

"Hao…" Lan Duo said warningly.

Zi Hao snarled at the light grey wolf, "Don't take that tone with me!"

"What other tone do you expect?" the lackadaisical wolf asked his dark comrade. "Admit it—the kid found the best assassin there is. Anyone who would try to assassinate the Dragon Warrior and Tai Lung would have to be crazy, and let's face it, Asmodei Koshchei is the right kind of crazy."

"I agree," Xu Jiu said, munching on an apple he'd filched from a farmer's tree. Bits of food fell from his full cheeks as he spoke with a mouthful of fruit. "Gotta admit, the guy is twisted enough to do it, and be creative about it. No worries about us having to do it."

"But still," Yu Wang said, staring at the Amur leopard's back, and casting a particularly nervous look at Lang, "I don't like this. I don't like it at all."

"What don't you like about it?" Tan Lan asked, already seeing the possibilities flashing across his imagination. "Think of the gold, the spoils of conquest!"

Yu Wang pointed at Lang's back and whispered to his brethren, "I don't like how close the kid's getting to him."

Bao Nu shook his head, but still appeared to share the assassin's opinion. Koshchei was getting too chummy with Lang, and deep down he knew it didn't bode well for the rest of them. But the largest—and arguably the most dangerous—of the sextet formed his own opinions: "He's an omega, and if Koshchei knows anything about wolves, he knows the kid's expendable. Probably why he's being all buddy-buddy, get him to trust him, then sacrifice him or something. It's what I'd do."

Lan Duo, too, looked at Lang, studying how the short youth looked up—literally—to the leopard, who was regaling a tale from his northern homeland…something about a giant bear he'd wrestled, or some other similar boast. The apathetic wolf suddenly felt very uneasy, and for a rather emotionless, amoral person, that was truly significant.

Zi Hao, for reasons unclear, brushed off their worries. "As long as we don't have to face them directly, I really don't care. We have the strength of the pack on our side—Koshchei is one man, an old man, as he said himself. He may be strong enough to rip out White Wolf's guts, but one day, he'll be weak enough for us to take out. He knows it. We all know it. And if the twerp wants to get chummy with him, thinks that old man can save him from us, he's got another thing coming."

"Why do you hate him so much?" Lan Duo suddenly asked. The other four went silent, awaiting Zi Hao's answer.

"What?" the black wolf snarled.

"Why do you hate Lang? All he ever did was enter White Wolf's servitude."

"He is an omega. What more reason do I need?" the black wolf gritted out between clenched teeth.

"I think it's more than that—"

"Of course you would think," Zi Hao snapped. "Your lazy ass doesn't do any damn work, so all you do is think. So tell me, Duo, if you're so damn smart, what's your ground-breaking theory?"

Lan Duo stared at him for a long, unnerving minute. Then he said, "He reminds you too much of yourself."

The other wolves held their breaths, wide-eyed and waiting for Zi Hao to lash out at the other beta. But Lan Duo didn't give him the opportunity, brushing past him to walk closer to Koshchei. Yu Wang chanced a glance at their fearless leader, expecting to see unholy rage in his eyes. Never did he think that Zi Hao would ever look so unguarded, so shocked, so...shaken.

Wordlessly, the other wolves stepped up their pace to keep up with the jovial old leopard. The black wolf eventually caught up to them, but not without a haunted look on his face, and more malice-filled glares sent to Lang's back.

---

Captain Zang Deshi was not in the best of moods. His moods were difficult to tell to the untrained eye, but his small band of soldiers knew him well enough to know the difference between annoyance and rage, and contentment from joy. Lately, the latter two were nearly non-existent. The warhorse had once been the crowning achievement of the Imperial army, a masterful strategist and brilliantly decorated warrior. So it was surprising that such a decorated war hero would volunteer for such a low-level, otherwise detestable job, to bring in a dangerous man like Tai Lung.

None of Zang's men dared question why he chose this path, but to hear the black horse talk, most of the four assumed it had something to do with his honor code. To Captain Zang, the fact a murderer and violent sadist was still on the loose and had not paid for the deaths of his dearest comrades, the Anvil of Heaven, was an insult too harsh to bear. He had hand—er, hoof—picked each man in his small team. More than once, each of them had wondered what he was thinking, choosing only a small force to take down such a dangerous man as the Master of the Thousand Scrolls of Kung Fu. But therein lay his brilliance.

Tai Lung would have expected an army to track him, not a small band of marshals. If Zang needed backup, there were militias in every province from Heilongjiang to Guangdong. But his greatest weapon would be the element of surprise. That had been the plan from the beginning. It was foolhardy, foolish, some would say absolute insanity…but in all respects, it was crazy enough to work. Besides, Captain Zang would not have chosen the best of the best for nothing; though he had never met these men before, he knew them by reputation.

The elephant, Gao Ming, was by far the strongest warrior of the bunch, rivaling even the late Commander Vachir for strength. The great bull elephant was as physically imposing as he was strong, but against the stereotype, he was by no means a "big dumb guy". Unlike Vachir—with whom Gao had trained with—the elephant was patient and wise, the "Buddha of Basic Training" as he had been called at the military academy. Unlike the Buddha, however, Gao was not afraid to use excessive force when necessary, and relied almost too much on the cunning he picked up as a strategist trained under the very tenets of Sun Tzu himself.

The second horse, a chestnut bay draft horse named Liu Yong, was also well-noted for his endurance and strength—he fit the type of a stallion quite well. Liu had humble beginnings working on a farm in the western part of the empire, and certainly had some Mongolian blood somewhere in his line; his eyes, mane and tail were dark while his coat was a light reddish-gold. He was also massive and stocky, nearly as big as his pachyderm comrade, and yet was shorter and stockier than his thoroughbred general. Despite his oft-times impressive (and intimidating) musculature, he was as gentle as such a giant could be. He only entered the service for the travel. Intelligent, independent and free-spirited, he was all the personification of what a horse person was supposed to be…and that sometimes irritated Zang.

But as for the young tiger, Quon…on more than one occasion he had been questioned on this pick. The youth had little to say for himself; barely out of his teens, still a kid in all respects…but if Zang wanted him, there had to be good reason. Quon had yet to prove his chops; he hardly made an impressive show, as like most youths he was still rather on the gangly side, with little in the way in muscle definition. But Zang didn't keep him for his fighting prowess. He kept him because the boy was just that damn smart. Quon came highly recommended from the military academy, and he was just a second-year student! He knew eight languages, had high scores in arithmetic and geography, and even if he was a so-so warrior, it was his analytical and quick-thinking mind that was valuable to the warhorse. So many times he had seen otherwise small—some would say "weak"—men, and yet it was their brains that saved the day…well, decorated war hero he may have been, but Captain Zang Deshi knew that wars were not won on sheer brawn and bravado alone.

As they moved down the path, past the Xiao Tou Inn, Zang mulled over the information he'd gleaned from the guards at the Thread of Hope's gatehouse. He knew they were lying, or at least that they knew more than they were willing to say. But his instincts told him that they were not protecting Tai Lung; far from it. They probably didn't care what happened to the snow leopard; their only concern was protecting the Dragon Warrior. He respected that. He respected the Dragon Warrior, even if he didn't agree with his world-view. Politics aside, he was sure this Po Ping was a generally affable fellow, for surely the Grand Master Oogway would not have chosen a complete bastard to be the most powerful warrior in history.

He knew the talk about the Dragon Warrior, and even more so the talk about the Furious Five. He, like the rest of China, had been absolutely gob-smacked to hear that Master Tigress was married to Jiao Dalang. Jiao Dalang, the son of Jiao Shen! If that wasn't fodder for scandal, he didn't know what else would be! Still, he respected her decision, especially after hearing how different Dalang was from the rest of his family. Zang had never met the young man, but he had met his brother, Shang. Well, Jiao Shang wasn't such a bad man…he could have been worse. He was a still a monster, responsible for killing more than one of Zang's comrades in battle, but when out of his Dragon Rage, the Amur tiger had been remarkably polite, and even apologetic for the pain he had caused. Much in this way, Dalang was the same…without the miles-long rap sheet and terrifying homicidal tendencies. Had things been different, and had Shang never developed the Dragon Rage, Zang was sure that he and the eldest Jiao would have at least gotten along.

As for the rest of the Furious Five…he had no quarrel with them. He had met Master Crane, once, and was an acquaintance of Master Viper's father. Master Crane was a calm and patient man, but was a bit too cautious for Zang's taste, and his serpentine bride, the lady Viper, was a graceful and beautiful woman (for yes, he had seen the paintings of her), but to hear her father speak of her, she might as well have been a son for all the shenanigans she got into. Master Viper of the Furious Five was most certainly not a traditional woman, and Captain Zang liked traditional women (he was, however, wise enough to know never to say such things aloud either around or in reference to either female member of the Furious Five). He had never met Masters Monkey or Mantis, but knew by their reputations that they were great, honorable fighters…if a bit undisciplined. But as students of the legendary Master Shifu, how unruly could they possibly be?

What bothered him most, however, was that they tolerated Tai Lung's presence. Yes, he would grudgingly admit that Tai Lung had a hand in defeating and destroying the single most dangerous and bloodthirsty warlord in decades (an achievement Zang wished could have been his own), but that did not excuse his crimes. Jiao Dalang could easily be pardoned—he had killed no one (well, no one that mattered), never brought harm against the empire or its subjects, and worked his tail off to make the best of an awful life. Tai Lung, on the other hand, was given everything, and threw it all away; he threw away his honor and his dignity, and took countless lives down with him. Yes, he had served twenty years in Hell for his crimes against the Valley of Peace…but he still had to answer for his crimes against the army and against the Emperor.

They met up with a fellow of theirs, a rough-looking gorilla who crouched in the dirt, studying the prints left behind by the panda and snow leopard. The gorilla was dressed similarly to his comrades in mottled green robes, for camouflage, all of them trying to keep as low a profile as possible. When he saw his commanding officer approach, the gorilla straightened, pressed his meaty fist into his equally massive palm, and bowed. "Captain Zang, I have followed your orders."

"Excellent," the warhorse said with a slight smile. "What have you found?"

"No mistake, they were here," the giant ape said. "Overheard in the Thieves's Inn that they took the Red Bird Pass."

Gao Ming balked in amazement. "Good gods, outlaws are still using it? I didn't think anyone was stupid enough to travel that…"

"I believe that says something about our quarry," Zang imparted with a dry tone. "You did good work, Sergeant Kong."

"So what now?" Liu Yong asked. "Tibet is out of our jurisdiction, and we don't know how long they'll be there."

"Is following them is out of the question?" Quon wondered.

"Following their footprints is," Zang said definitively. "Thieves and runaways are desperate enough to use that pass, but I will not risk your lives to follow a homicidal madman to the ends of the earth. Not yet, anyway." The black horse turned to look down the shady path that lay beyond the red gate, pursing his lips in thought. Then he swiftly turned his attention to Gao Ming, the elephant. "You are a master strategist. What would you do?"

Gao blew air through his trunk. "Not run after them, that's for certain. Tai Lung has been in the Valley of Peace for three years, and if the rumors are true, then he has quite a few contacts to tie him there. My instinct says he'll come back."

"Mine too," Zang nodded. "Yes, he will be back. No one at the Xiao Tou Inn was cooperative, Kong?"

The gorilla only bowed to the equine captain. "No one knew where they were headed except the Wu Sisters."

This drew a gasp from the other men. Zang, however, looked furious. "You had those murderous whores in your sights and you did nothing to bring them in?!"

Quon cleared his throat and spoke up, a desperate effort to quell the black horse's temper. "Permission to speak candidly, Captain Zang?"

"Granted," he said shortly. Quon was a quiet sort, but when he spoke, it was usually significant and worth listening to—and the tiger didn't disappoint.

"Sir, with all due respect, the Sergeant was woefully outnumbered. Had he even attempted to try to apprehend the Sisters…no doubt we would have found him floating face down in that lake's waters instead of alive and well in front of us." Once again, the young man's logic overruled the horse's temper; sometimes, though, the kid's common sense was a bit irritating. The tiger's cautiousness was very unlike his species, known for being brash and violent, but it was his discretion that had endeared the boy to Zang in the first place.

"Kid's got a point," Liu Yong said. "If he hadn't been alone, we'd have those girls in our custody—"

"Then we'd lose Tai Lung's trail," Quon argued. "As much as I want those women brought to justice, we already have a mission to carry out—the Wu Sisters can wait for another day."

Liu Yong shook his head, peering down the dark pathway. "What are your orders, Captain?"

Zang thought over his options. Then he stomped his foot once and turned in the direction they had come from. "We've followed the leads so far, but perhaps its time we took a more proactive approach."

"Sir?" Quon asked curiously.

"We will enter the Valley," Zang said definitively. "We will track down where Tai Lung lives, speak to his neighbors, his friends…if he has any. I want as much recent information on him by any means possible. As much as I wish it hadn't come to this, if we are to right the wrongs he has done, we need to know everything about him: his favorite foods, favorite colors, the way he likes his tea, I don't care. If we can glean anything and everything about him, any bargaining chip whatsoever, it will be easier to bring him to justice. Men, move out."

---

Far above their heads, looking down from the shadows of a small cave, three shapes watched as the quintet stalked down the path back to the Thread of Hope. One of the sentinel figures spit and grit her teeth.

"I knew I should've slit his throat."

"Pretty glad you didn't, sis," Wu Zhu whispered. "Bad enough we're wanted for killing nobles, but army officers too?"

"He's not an officer, he's enlisted," Wu Jiang pointed out.

"Same difference!" the youngest sister hissed. "I don't want to face an army execution—do you?"

Wu Tian shushed them, fearful that their voices would echo and draw attention to them. When she was confident the soldiers were out of earshot, she drew back inside the cave, beckoning her sisters to follow. "None of us are facing that. We're going north again, along the Grand Canal."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Jiang asked. "Lotta people take that canal; opens the possibility we'll be seen."

"By the common folk, not the army," Tian said. "Commoners have nothing to fear from us, only the nobles do. We keep our heads down, act natural—"

"I think we should go after them," Zhu said suddenly.

Her older sisters stopped and stared at her. "Excuse me?" Tian asked. "Follow the soldiers?"

"No," Zhu said, "Follow Tai Lung and the Dragon Warrior. They don't know the army's after them."

"After him," Jiang corrected. "Tai Lung's a big boy; he can take care of himself."

"But the army is after him, and it sounds like they'll do anything to get to him!" Zhu said fretfully.

"I fail to see how that's our problem," Tian said coldly.

Zhu's expressive blue eyes flashed dangerously, and she glared at her older sister. "What would Mamma say if she heard you say that? Hm?"

Tian froze, looking stricken, but quickly shook herself out of it. "She doesn't care, you know that. Not anymore."

"Gansu," Jiang said, breaking the tension. "We go to Gansu—there's more than enough space there, more than enough forests to hide in. It has stops along the Silk Road, in case we need to make an exit, stage left."

Tian let out a long breath, grateful for the subject change. Her red eyes settled on her youngest sister. "Gansu?"

Zhu sighed, crossed her arms and huffed like a disappointed teenage girl. "Fine by me."

"Good. If we leave now," Tian said, gathering her things. "We can reach Nanjing by nightfall. We'll follow the river until it leads to the Canal, and stop in Yangzhou for the night before moving north…"

But Zhu wasn't listening. Her eyes had traveled down to the red gate that marked the beginning of the Red Bird Pass. It wasn't until her sister Jiang nudged her and tugged on her arm that the youngest female snow leopard sorrowfully turned to follow her family through the labyrinth of caves.

---

Note: Many of the landmarks that I describe early in the chapter are real places, particularly the giant waterfall and the Buddha at Leshan. I tried to keep as close to geography as I could, but hey, its fanfiction, so I took a little creative license. The Beijing-Hangzhou Grand Canal (the one the Wu Sisters mentioned) is a real waterway in Eastern China, which was first constructed during the Fourth Century B.C.E. and has been used continuously in various incarnations since then.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. For the record, don't expect the next update to come for a while. Until then, please read and review!