PART TWO
"Salvage"
Chapter XXI
Nightmare, or Memory
I. Phantasm
"Monsters are real; ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win." — Stephen King
The young peacock felt the numbness in his body flooding to cold. His back was warmly drenched, and when groaning to cover his eyesight from blinding lights, Lao saw crepuscular ocean lights stroking on his crest. Beneath his ribcage, a cold blade of steel clenched his flesh with a thousand plunges; when he took his long glance above him, reflections shattered, blending with dancing ripples, and his voluminous cobalt robes and train billowed, gliding along the foams.
Under his talons puffed inky clouds, rounding its tentacle limbs over his stick legs before his stomach. The shrouds dragged him into the void, crawling near his long neck as Lao winced out the foams from his lungs. He wanted to end this suffering, let the water gush through his throat, and have him swim with the Spirit Realm — the afterlife where he wished to see other peafowls like him, someone like him, the so-called Prince.
A white light shone from the starry depths above, rumbling with silky cobalt bubbles. The Spirit Warrior might have summoned swimming down to the peacock, going to claim his soul from lingering in this excruciating world. Once the figure sank closer to the dying warrior, this light had the same body of his own but the crimson train. What made Lao concerned about this superstition — the color that the people feared of a tyrant? The color of death? One with an omen born so unlucky?
You cannot be my father. Not you.
His father burst his scream out of his charcoal gray beak, calling his son's name; sinking further before the white with a red train reached for his son, the shadow with a broad muzzle and sharp teeth widened its mouth.
SNAP!
Gods — How am I alive?
At this time, Lao was somewhere lying flat against dry-red soil, blended with streams of orange sands whispering in his hidden ears. Wincing in low grunts, Lao bridged his shattered wings and rose, leaning his right shoulder against the clay wall. Regaining his sight while alleviating his harsh breaths, he checked his surroundings and spotted the remains of flesh-less beings — bones lay on dry soil and several panda bones against the tables. Beside the peacock was a formless bear with a rented green vest. The Noodle Restaurant's complex was left with a pile of rubbles, and the kitchen was buried with the rest. He glanced at the horizon's light-silver charcoal, scorching the streaming clouds with embers and fire ashes swimming through peaks.
What is this aftermath? His ached strain on his ribcage remained lingering, but no weapon was on him. Why am I wearing this rented outfit? Lao checked his garb wrapped with insides and his outer gray robe that flowed along the thin stream. The peaks standing with ruptured heaven shrieked below the grasslands once the peacock departed through the archway, and roads piled with debris lay waste elsewhere, leaving stiff remains along bones and skulls. And then there was the temple, which the Jade Palace had ruptured after the stairs were dissipated to a thousand crushes. Was this the afterlife to pass through his judgment before the dragons could decide his fate? Instead of the Spirit Realm to meet ancient masters?
Lao passed through the debris toward the east, nearing the withered tree as dry leaves rustled and swam away. Where is everyone? Where is Po? He remembered the beast — the Prince of Darkness who felled the Dragon Warrior and captured him, dragging the panda to one of the balloon ships. Prince Huoju was responsible for the calamities and destruction, but did the bovine scorch the Mortal Realm alone? When did he attack the Valley of Peace before the Jade Palace? How long had the peacock been out cold?
The peacock's wound began to pour out his gore and had him grimacing in discomfort, pressing against the ribcage as he collapsed to his knees. While bracing against the excruciating pain from screaming, holding his tongue from biting his beak, the environment had changed, and it affected the peacock's sensation, allowing harsh sounds to deaden and shift to another domain. Commencing to glance at another land, Lao always wished to travel to the city, where he could meet his bovine brother's father with honor.
Gongmen City, in ruins, was left into desolation.
The horizon was in deep orange, scorched with swirling ashes and firefly embers under the charcoal clouds. By the Gods. Did Shen destroy his city? Curse him. . . Beyond the uneven crossroads and complex buildings with upward tiles, the peacock strolled before the thirteenth hill. The sea flooded with silver specks of bones, rupturing along the high ripples before the behemoth red-orange star. Lao found four compass towers standing beside the colossal pagoda tower — the Tower of the Sacred Flame. Unlike the building's details that were engulfed with gold and red fires, several crimson silks of conflagration danced on each floor, burning to ebony smoke. He counted ten floors, regarding the original building it used to stand.
That's not possible. The Tower was destroyed. How?
Lao pondered at this Tower's sigil meant for Gongmen City citizens. He could see the iron gate with a peafowl symbol and remembered the Nine's conversation with Niu that the Tower was rebuilt, now standing with more floors. Shen caused his family's house to ruins, knowing the peacock lord was ruthless and dangerous, incapable of being the next ruler.
"My Lord."
The peacock turned and heard the silvery voice. Before, Lao was a fox with small round glasses on the muzzle. The fox, casually approaching the peacock, was robed in light-cobalt garb with red, yellow, and orange square patches. "Excuse me?"
"I assume you are the son of Lord Shen," the fox determined, with his narrow eyes glistening in good taste.
"Forgive me. Regarding what you see me, I am not the son of the tyrant or the Lord of Gongmen."
"Your reputation and title do not lie," he said, surveying the city's surroundings. "Ever wonder what caused the destruction?"
"Did Shen cause his revenge?"
"War had occurred. Evils corrupted the Mortal Realm and ruled two worlds — yours as the Forsaken Realm, and the Spirit Realm the Abandoned."
"What do you mean 'had?' What is this abomination, fox?" Lao snapped his glare. "I demand to know who you are."
"You know my name, your Grace."
"No, I don't."
The fox, with his little glare, droned in sight disapproving. "One day, you will understand."
"Understand what? Stop wasting my time playing some stupid conversation," the peacock clenched his beak.
"Time is essential, Lord Dongji. Every second counts and your luck will run out," the fox forewarned, still not introducing his name in front of Lao. "Have you forgotten what Oogway gave Shifu as the new owner of Jade Palace? Rather than I should have been the one?"
"I do not recall what you tried to clarify the questioning," Lao said, his tone involving his bitter tone to nonchalant.
The fox led toward the downhill as thin shrouds from sidewalks billowed above the river pile of lifeless forms. Baffled at him, Lao followed the stranger, who continued speaking. "From the looks of your kind, you act like your father. And your father's ancestors once ruled this city before your grandparents. Lord Feng and Lady Muqin witnessed their son's creation, and his heart was bathed in darkness," the fox trekked to the nearest river channel. The current nearby swathed in rust-brownish water, left with remaining debris of clay and wood fragments. "Concerning what you see at the unknown, one of the tyrants ravaged your city. It was he who precipitated hell fires and flooded the Realm into ashes."
"One of the tyrants? Did my father cause this destruction, or was the other one who ravaged the Tournament?" Lao questioned, his thought of Shen's motivation flooding to anxiety.
"Only the black heart with a vengeance rained the city," the fox answered.
"Then who?" Lao demanded, stammering for searching answers. "Why am I here in this cursed city?"
"That, my Lord Dongji, is what you must prepare. To witness the future where no success thrives. Only death," the stranger spoke. "The conqueror opposed the Mightiest Warriors, who vouched for the Emperor to defend the Realm from unfriendly eyes of mortals — Mongols, backstabbers, aristocrats, and specters. What you shall be discerned calamities and unfortunate events, the battles for dynasties are no more."
"What the hell do you mean by that?" the fox heard Lao and saw him broadening his eyes.
"You only fight to defend the living more than unnecessary wars: Darkness," the fox said. "Full circle without the light."
Unbalanced? The peacock dreaded his thought before ruptured complex apartments at the other side of the river channel puffed out dark silver smokes.
Lao and the fox were nearing the apex hill, observing the city's destruction. Wined board signs emerged on every section, light breezes and streams of sand swiveling through the peacock's dark gray robe. The orange clouds approached with their current waves as the sky performed with low drums, sounds of flipping the sheets once and twice at a greater distance. Lao could reflect majestic creatures — bearded reptile dragons flying their swimming slithers in the air, blessing the people who they needed to supply food, the art of fighting, and knowledge of life. After their extinction, dragons were no more, but their spirits thrived in this Mortal Realm. The peacock imagined the Dragon Warrior could alter his shape to a majestic creature, a chi dragon, powerful enough to fend the Realm.
Under the sky, shredding orange clouds unveiled the prolonged ebony shape slithering before dipping above, summoning low purrs combed to grinding metals. What? The peacock gasped, his nippy breath flooding his lungs as his feathers arched with goosebumps.
"Look onward, my Lord," the fox urged.
As the peacock did, the mighty star rising from the dead sea of lava and bones crawled its solar silks, binding their loop winds. Lao and the fox were on the bridge ports between the river canal, ahead manifesting the Gongmen Harbor, engulfed emptiness as the depths revealed left with countless remains — drowned wolves in corpses, junk ships with crimson sails, and Lord Shen's war vessel. Blocked with most of the endless debris was a behemoth black dragon, lying stiff with its broad lips open.
By the Gods. Lao gaped with his wide eyes, dust swimming above his talons and the bottom of his fluttering gray robe.
"What is that thing down there?" the peacock feared. "What killed this creature?"
"Hope," the fox answered, and Lao's wound hacked a little gore.
Lao clenched his beak after collapsing to his knees, unable to barricade his exclamation when pressuring his wound. He saw pitch black sands dusting off the fox's body and vanished him.
The blade is out — shit! Put the pressure on him! Hand me a needle and threads!
Thunderous voices faded. Lao recognized his bunny sister's voice — close to feeling her presence — urging someone he could not know. His ears rang with distant gongs and wood fragments, blanketing his surroundings before Lao faced forward; the land of Gongmen City rinsed away, now altering with harsh landscapes that stood before him. With changed sensations by the atmospheres, Lao felt warm gales, witnessing shadow peaks and withered grass across the endless desert.
Briefly relieved from his severe wound, Lao approached the cliff, layered with flat ridges, as he surveyed the hell-on-earth terrain. Along the gray and black mountains, the sky was drenched with solar gales, charcoal shrouds emerging floatable platforms, and lands in rubbles. And then the sand swimming past the peacock carried cannon blasts and war shouts.
Is this. . . the Demon Mountain?
Lao used to contemplate with Po, who was spirited with children and had many motivated being entertained by his awesomeness dream. The panda was in his Dragon Warrior outfit with a flowy orange cloak, vanquishing bandits in his way before meeting the Furious Five. He held the legendary sword of the four brothers that served its purpose of slaying evils — the Sword of Heroes — and the Masters of Jade Palace leaped into the sea of black spears.
"We've tried to stop Huoju, brother."
His brother's voice came to his right, and his family emerged in dusty garb. Lao could read the tiger's posture of ambitiousness, fearlessness, and solemnity. Same protection as the peacock's outfit, the tiger had his wraps from the desert's hazardous conditions. The tiger's face was bathed in dry sand, with faded scars over his muzzle and cheeks. His brother was never like that or had battle wounds before.
"Brother, what happened to your face?" Lao filled his breaths in silence. "Who did this to you?"
Chen Xing raised his brows to be hopeless. "You were right, Lao," the tiger admitted, his posture was stern, and his voice changed to roughness. "We should have warned."
"Warned about what?" the peacock was confused, craning his head closer. "What do you mean?"
"Without any survivors and the Mightiest Warriors, the Mortal World will be in flames, and the Spirit Realm will fade into darkness," Chen Xing warned. "If we attack now, then—"
"Where is our family? The others, the Nine?" Lao queried, pointing his feathers beyond the desert meadow before the shadow peaks. "Where are we?"
"Most of the people in China are gone, brother," "Everyone we knew. Lao, I want you to know that until we die in the battle, we will see them aga—"
"Am I missing something here, Xing? How do I—?" he cut him off, snapping his cold eyes at the tiger. "Damn it — your Lord demands answers. That bovine and his whole army attacked us at the Kong Bai Stadium. Where are the others? And how did we get here and this — Demon Mountain we are staring at?"
The tiger's silver eyes met his brother. And his expression unveiled from determination to shock.
"Will you answer to me, please?" Lao pressed.
"You do not remember?"
Did he say, "I do not remember?" How long have I been unconscious from my injury?!
Grimacing in discomfort, Lao hurled his talon and clenched Xing's front garb. "How long was I out?" the peacock clamored. "I'm not playing these stupid mind games!"
To Lao, Chen Xing might have considered he was serious about a sick joke or lost his thought reflecting the tragedy at Kong Bai Stadium. Other sensations seemed authentic as the peacock felt his brother's changshan's silk and hazardous nature differed by feeling sharp sand drifting against his outer outfit and feathers. What had this reality become, seeing this Mortal Realm turned to what the stranger said?
The tiger's eyes stumbled as his mouth was nearly unlatching for answers, but the low horn whistled from the stained cliff with wilted grass silks. Their bovine companion called upon the two warriors, confirming that their army drew back to their fortress. Not knowing what Lao could discover in his brother's army, he found a fortress of seven pagodas, rounded with behemoth catwalks with thirteen watchtowers perching on the meadow dunes.
"Brother?" Lao called Xing worriedly after drawing his talon from his brother's dust outfit. "What is going on here?"
"We need to move," Xing urged, and they led onward to the slope ridges before arriving at the scorching dunes.
II. Fortress
Niu was in navy-blue leather armor with two axes behind his back, barricading his eyesight from a harsh stream of sand. Upon their arrival near the fortress, the sky stroked its gold and rotten orange hues. Strolling with his brothers, Lao saw the iron gate unlatching rattle chains, hauling the entrance down. On catwalks were six projectile arrows and nineteen archers guarding the front. Metals tapped when the peacock entered the fortress, and he felt rigid straps on his talons, appearing as lengthy claws of silver. How did I wear these since. . . Am I dreaming?
Being wary of this mysterious fantasy, Lao had not worn metal talons when he was introduced; he could not remember where he started. His words became empty, clouding his thought while surveying emerald peaks collapsed by the solar wind's lashes. Beneath the apex formed its lava veins and blanketed ebony velvet, scorching the mountain to bits. Several "survivors" and groups of army deafened their gasps at random directions, and their brother Niu dashed to the uneven hill forward, demanding reports from one of his bovine combatants. The next hill was stacked with stained bricks and pebbles, bracing a giant gray pole with a rented black flag. The banner's sigil, left with small holes along the shreds, billowing with light sand breezes, had silver scathes around its white eye, labeling the army's fire ink name "Rebellion."
Does my brother have an army? This cannot be real. . .
Lao's feline brother called him, forcing the peacock to catch up with him toward the next catwalk barrier, leading to another bailey.
Lao began observing the bailey's shallow lake, which was inked to void, foams hissing as it slowly popped on edges, one by one. Distant thunders clapped beyond the shadow mountains, summoning crimson sparks under the charcoal clouds. Several bolts jolted and ripped through the horizon, settling their zig-zag branches across the starry hells. Drenched in white, Lao puffed his soft coughs, checking his wound soaked with dry amber-crimson blood on his robe. "Let me help you with that," Chen Xing knelt ahead of his brother and began wrapping with warm cloths, covering Lao's wound. Nearly relieved to ease his tension, Lao checked billowing war tents to his left, emerging "survivors" who paced their walks in random movements. Most areas on this second bailey had left with armaments and wooden dummies from different aspects of martial arts.
From Xing's cloth patching his brother's deep cut, Lao felt the wound closing as if threads began to wrap one way and the other, shutting from his gore gushing out. Hang in there, Lao. Hong worded in his mind.
"Hong?" the peacock swirled his head, broadening his eyes. "Can you hear me? I need help."
"There will be more help, brother," Xing assured, patting his brother's shoulder. The tiger supported his wing, having Lao stand and straighten his back. "Our luck is still with us, and we must not overthink."
Luck? Lao caught a word with puzzlement.
Almost attempting to question his brother, Lao caught his distraction surveying warriors educating peasants and children who wielded armament spears and swords. Their mentors in various outfits had Lao concerned with each enemy, who were now united. Several warriors from the dynasties of Jin and Western Xia, plenty in lamellar deel armors and headpieces from Mongolia, and iron plates armor with kabuto helmets from "the eastern sea," Master Ming used to listen about Chen Xing's biological parent from another realm. Most had their students carry daos and wavy swords in sparring, plenty with sabers and lances, and curved silver katanas chopping dry bamboo lines.
Their armors had white eye sigils after Lao squinted at the detail.
"This fortress is our last resort," Chen Xing said, watching the training and perimeters. "Once we leave the iron gate by the next day, we are on our own."
Nearing one of the war tents with pierced holes, Lao saw most of the Furious Five members within the cottage; Monkey had strap bandages wrapping under Crane's left wing while their serpent sister Viper poured the small black pot of boiling water. Once Mantis had wrapped a set of bandages around the serpent's long neck, Viper offered their "last" drinks with fellow companions before their end and saved two cups for the Dragon Warrior and their feline sister. Neither of these warriors was sighted. Most of their wraps covering wounds had applied alcohol after Mantis used cupping therapy, reducing their inflammatory wounds as Monkey's forearm reduced shaking.
Where are Tigress and Po? How did my brother create the Rebellion army of the "white eye?"
"Come along, Lao," his feline brother urged and saw him pacing near the other bailey gate.
Jogging beside his brother, Lao insisted on his questions. "What is this Rebellion, Xing? That white eye sigil — what does it mean?"
"Not now, brother. I have reported on what we could do to eradicate specter forces."
"Demon forces?"
"The red dragon's vicious creatures," answered Xing. "They have allied with Huoju's forces and will do everything possible to slaughter anyone close to the Shadow Temple. Those beasts are aggressive."
"Does the dragon have a name?" Lao asked.
"The monster has no name, but what I know so far is someone had shattered the urn from the Spirit Realm and unleashed the beast," Xing explained, passing by the Righteous Seven masters — only four students without their leader. The deer strengthened elbow combination on his leopard cub disciple in a brown changshan; the lion swirled his limbs and feet through crocodile dummies farther down; the hawk glided through the thin sand breeze as Fei hurled his daggers; and the panther Lady Kasi knelt before the memorial statue of Master Sheep, praying for the Spirit Masters to guide through victory.
"The red dragon and his creatures have eyes everywhere," Xing continued. "If I had a beast like him, our chances would be highly significant."
"Any leads what you were saying? What do you consider that the dragon is defensive for the Shadow Temple? Is anyone important inside the palace?"
"Prince Huoju's master is inside the Shadow Temple. That craven is responsible for everything. With a hundred thousand souls uniting with Prince Huoju and his teacher, their control over the dragon's army will outnumber ours. As I said, if we set assail by now, we are on our own to survive. If there's hope in our different times, we might have to—"
"Have to what?" Lao demanded, and his brother froze without his answer.
With agitation, Chen Xing was about to clarify more with his lips unsealed but sounds of the war drums from the farthest catwalk summoned along the breeze, drawing thousands of allied eyes to set their positions. And then, one of Chen Xing's mysterious allies in charcoal gray iron plates called upon his leader. Without their names which they were, a Mongol leopard in a leather deel mentioned an army of reptiles delivered the package, waiting for Lao's brothers.
What package? Lao queried, just as his feline brother began to assemble with his best fighters and their bovine brother Niu. Master Ox's son trotted on fours and stood beside Chen Xing before the two strangers. Lao embarked on following them toward the southwest catwalk.
Departing from the southwest catwalk, dragging down the gate with rattling chains, the group surveyed hundreds of reptiles in fine wraps (protection from rough and irritating conditions), holding halberds with rented and billowing red spears. All eyes were narrow, and their chest plates appeared to be a different sigil than Xing's Rebellion sign. Their chest plates' sigils were fire embers, dazzling. Lizards and crocodiles ahead of their reptile army held heavy armaments in defense before the group of lizards bore a chest box with emerald dragon glass that surrounded a reptile skin over it completely.
Chen Xing and Niu shared their expressions to a nod, and Lao watched his brother joining the meeting with a hooded lizard in a voluminous dust cloak.
"Commander," Chen Xing greeted.
The lizard greeted with a raspy tongue, brightening his orange eyes. "Lord Shin."
What? Lao gasped his silent breath, giving Niu his cold stare at the meeting when Xing spoke freely.
"I find you and your army traveled safety?"
"Yes, my Lord," the lizard answered, stretching his lips. "I brought your valuable package from the abandoned temple of the Valley of Peace."
"Thank the Gods. The Dragon Warrior would be very pleased to wield it to the last battle with the Furious Five," Chen Xing was blessed, nodding at the strangers. "May I see the sword?"
"Right this way."
The lizard invited his gesture to Xing in a polite manner; Niu presented his harsh whispers next to a bear warrior with iron plates and a kabuto helmet, a different language Lao could not comprehend with strange tongues. He could only understand Mandarin based on Song and the previous dynasties' written texts and languages. "Niu?" Lao called the bovine, who exchanged his glance toward the peacock.
"Your brother's got his back, my Lord. Stay close to us," he assured, and their feline brother signaled his gesture, drawing their presence to observe the meeting.
Archers and giant crossbows emerged on the catwalk, watching a horde of bandits.
Are we Lords of the Rebellion now? Enlighten me on something I do not know.
On the opposite side of the Rebellion's defenses, reptile bandits carried their bows, presenting their vicious stares at the group. Either enemies or allies from them, Lao could not trust these invaders. His concern while nearing the box forward with bandits guarding it, their first move from most bandits, could ambush him and his friends for good.
Reptiles in wraps and dusty garb outfits withdrew from the green dragon box, and from their gazes, they looked at the peacock and merged into the hordes. Somehow, either of these bandits regarded Lao as most of their hissing tongues murmured the name he hated — the surname Shen, the son of a tyrant, who became —
I cannot be the Lord of Gongmen or Shen's son. I never wanted to be like that craven who tries to murder me at the Stadium!
The box stirred its living dragons slithering over the cloudy spirals, unlatching the muzzle's silver locks. Was it just the creature who protected something inside the chest? Something unique to wielding a "sword" to lead the decisive victory? Chen Xing and his allied warrior, a brown bear, stepped closer to the chest before the lizards opened the top, allowing these warriors to feast their eyes on the radiant emerald light. Silent winds whispered into Lao's crest, amplifying distant rattle chains before the horizon's sky cracked open. Rattling links neared and louder, looming the giant's roar.
"NO!"
A gray form, soaring passed with incredible swiftness, slammed into the horde with a bowl of swirling sand, sending the dragon's chest flipping in the air and vanishing out of the peacock's sight. The group hit the dirt from the intense shockwave. And behind the dust bowl, cast a yak silhouette with mighty horns, rounding and reeling chains at reptile bandits, who all shouted in fear. Squinting closer, Lao caught the yak's horns on the sides were greatly honed. Red and orange sand blanketed their sights, giving the group to retreat into Xing's fortress as Lao's wing gripped his shoulder, arrows flying.
"By the Gods! Xing, is that who I think he is behind that dust bowl?! I thought—!"
"Don't mind him now, brother! Quick!" Xing urged, sprinting into the fortress entry. "We must find the sword before someone shatters it!"
Wincing, Lao gripped his lung wound, now worsened than in the previous episode. His cut grew its severe grips, burning in his flesh. "What blade?!" Lao glared at him in severe aches. "What sword are you talking about?"
"The Sword of Heroes!"
Lao remembered the legendary blade in the Hall of Heroes, the history behind the weapon that the four brothers wielded and fought against the giants. Combined with the concentration of the sword were the halberd, the dagger, and the sword, together into a supernatural blade.
Lao is going critical! Mantis, help! Hong's echoes screamed.
The peacock clenched his sight, his ears noting eardrums with blade shrieks along blows. "HONG! HEL—!" he croaked, and his beak gushed slow streams of crimson, coughing. Lao spat several splotches, hearing high-pitched buzzes as something hard and firm pressing against his wound ceased his blood. For a moment, his disorientation deadened, sharpening his eyesight; his presence embarked on another scene Lao was unprepared for, witnessing the final stand before him.
He stood in the line of warriors — thousands of allies with different clans and foreigners. Without glancing at all the souls, Lao was uniting with the Nine beside him, and the Nine's Leader was facing the Demon Mountain. Standing near the slope, the Dragon Warrior and Furious Five assembled into one; Po had gripped the blade's grip and unsheathed the legendary weapon, the Sword of Heroes. From the farthest terrain of slithering shadows and ebony peaks before the Shadow Temple was the sea of black halberds and crimson ribbons, undulating with the horde of demons.
Lao's back was lighter; despite his preparation before leading missions into the affrays, the Nine had someone on their backs for support and challenging aspects. Discovering the name of his old friend had his spine drown under the rime. Hong?
The battle commenced with war cries, and the Dragon Warrior swayed the sword and cast a single wave of jade, penetrating spears through the black velvet sea.
And they all sprinted onward, splashing themselves into the crimson waves.
One by one, beasts and reptiles tore the Rebellion members ten to one; each victim stirred and plunged by a hundred slashes. The red dragon spat one's hellfire throughout the dust bowl and dark hues, scorching the battlefield in many directions. The bloodbath had Lao stirred his face with quick glimpses, witnessing the catastrophe in horror. Most of the gorillas rampaging on fours and tapping their fists against their chest rammed a line of shadow specters, hammering their blows before wolves and bovines pierced and slashed more phantoms elsewhere. With the unexpected sight of other groups of bovines storming their way onward, they heaved and plunged their light spears in between their feet, one by one; the rest cast a yellow-silver chi path guiding toward the heart of the Shadow Temple's peak.
"LET'S GO, BROTHER! THIS IS OUR CHANCE!" Niu dashed on fours, and Lao followed with incredible haste. From Lao's six had washed countless bovines under the billowing spears, and the Dragon Warrior soared in the air with his giant chi dragon; his beast launched a ray of chi, clearing the front line of defenses for runners.
"Keep up, Lao! Don't stop!" Monkey trotted beside the peacock when the insect's wings chirped, the zig-zag line battering against the hordes.
All Lao had to do was advance with the heroes without stopping, dodging the horde by any means necessary. The Furious Five were in the yellow light Lao ran into with the Nine, but creatures from the shadow glided in front, randomly unleashing ebony bows and arrows. Slowed with burnt breaths, swimming his head with haste, Lao darted his eyes upon each defender — those who fought for the "living" felled, decapitated, stabbed, and slaughtered within the affray bloodbath of numerous fatalities. A giant arrow zipped in high-pitched, low growls and slit under the chi dragon's belly, and the Dragon Warrior—
"PO!" Lao screamed. One of the volleys of arrows racing in between his round face plunged into his wound, where Shen's feather blade darted, collapsing Lao into the light path.
The line's defensive position from the front and back did not last, as each bovine, gorilla, and wolf felled before their fatalities; from aggressive flights slashing their claws at defenders, the swirling ghosts wounded their mouths and devoured bodies into corpses, silencing victims' agonies. Feets stomped the peacock's train and back, and Lao burst his cry. His attempts to roll to the side and spin freely were not expected from all the offenders who caught him handily — their grips ripped his train, his gray robe shredding apart.
Apprehended by whips and sharp grips that mauled his wings, Lao was forced to his knees and heard warriors fade their painful exclamations. The sky, bursting with a line of scorching fire at the black velvet stairs, was the red dragon burning the Nine and Furious Five. Beyond the Forsaken introduced shockwave gales of the three fragmenting the solar sky. One gray form with gold eyes, dark patches, and indigo trousers appeared, droning his creamy growls. The second was the bird in a silver silk robe, all white feathers bathed in crimson splotches, twirling his guandao. And the third, landing with booming ruptures, emerged the beast of emerald eyes with sharp horns and loincloth, winding his chains.
By the Gods — all of YOU?! They are not real!
Everything went to silence before the three loomed their shadows and blanketed his sight, glaring at the last as demons of the black and crimson waves snapped their sights before the tyrant's son. One female shout thundered, storming into the sand breeze, and from the ordinary eyes caught an owl in a purple sleeveless top with gold trimmings. Rolling her body with gray wings tight, the owl dove to Lao, screaming.
Darkness bathed his vision.
Lao was somewhere floating, unmoving in the black silk surroundings. His breaths started to become blunt and raspy, despite his sprint and the torture from the previous encounter. He was in the unknown and spotted a scarlet star overhead. The light now pulsed its wine throbs once the peacock in chains had him check his sides. And his inmates, wrapped in metal hue links, were beside him. The leopard Peng croaked his creamy lungs, his body looming with deep cuts and dark bruises. And then, the peacock's right side was the yak companion, Shou. The Nine's Pirate, whose cuts came on his muzzle and cheek, coughed out gores. They wobbled their bodies when their limbs hung above their heads, and tremor ruptures deadened before them.
Emerging out of the gray velvet shrouds, one had his casual walk, dazzling his chi eyes, meeting his nephew. The second was the bird strolling toward his son, presenting his sinister glare of crimson-orange eyes. And the giant of streaming emerald haze broadened his hoof with a vibrant green orb, sheathing his rattle chains on his loincloth belt.
Please. Let this nightmare end.
Amplifying his creamy snarls, bending his muzzle, Tai Lung cast his claw with ocean fires and pummeled his "death palm" into Peng's heart, clenching his nephew's remains before Peng growled his last breath. The peacock's voice muted, trying to scream for him. Kai glowed his emerald limbs with starry stars and clasped his hooves forward, withdrawing Shou's radiant chi. The pirate's scream was submerged, his soul shifting to a yak amulet before the giant's hands; Kai held his newest collection dearly, chuckling as Shou's soul bathed on his gray fur like water ripples. Shadow tendrils and shrouds behind the three raced through the gaps and loomed one's eyes of crimson with wide horns, his body shaded with deep orange silks. The bovine's ink muzzle glimmered with cherry wine and lava under his lips, leering at Lao as the crimson light from above lashed, sending a round ball of black and white down. The rope yanked the inmate's head and twisted his neck with loud snaps.
Hanging under the rope with a rented cape was Po.
Wake up, Lao! WAKE UP!
Hong's echoes thundered, and Tai Lung and Kai submerged behind the ebony cloaks, disappearing before Shen craned his face toward Lao, clenching his eyes.
"This is what you have ruined your grandparents' city. Burned Gongmen into ashes. And you took your mother from me."
Lao coughed and spat his blood at Shen. "Go. . . fa. . . yourself."
There you are! LAO!
Drooping his head, Lao heard a female voice, which echoed with reverberations of blunt ripples after Shen wiped his head with his wing and took five paces away, drawing his silver feather blade drenched in ebony water. A blade casting its blaring metal in the breeze lunged, and Lao's body dipped into the gray mist.
The whole shoji walls shook by Lao's thundering wail, waking the peacock from the nightmare.
"LAO!" Hong sobbed, clenching the bird's wing with struggle. "HOLD HIM!"
"He's alive!" the black leopardess, Lady Kasi, held Lao's other wing from wrestling. "Hold your brother's wing, Master Xing!"
"Brother! Look at me!" the tiger lamented, unveiling his red tears. "I'm right here! You're going to be alright!"
The peacock's eyes were drenched in ruby, eying at his brother with bitter relive. Mantis was on the bird's stomach, attempting to sew his wound; Lao could not feel his chest with sharp sensations; thus, his hearing was muffled. His throat was into numbness, burned by his screams. Behind the shoji wall merged two silhouettes of the goat with broad, curved horns, and the other appeared with a spiked mohawk taller than the other. Opening the door revealed themselves from the last visit at the Nine's Shui Palace — Soothsayer Mali and her trusted wolf guardian of Gongmen City.
"Madam Soothsayer," Lady Kasi broadened her eyes.
The goat slogged in with her wooden cane, inspecting the peacock's injury. "Zhong, hold Prince Dongji's chest," Soothsayer told the one-eyed wolf, and he was urged to do so, carefully leaning his paws above Lao's neck.
"Zhong. . ." Lao's raspy voice stiffened with wheezes.
The peacock reflected the wolf's presence, the canine's rough fur smell, and one's eye who used to be in Lao's company. "You're okay, my Prince," Lao could almost hear the muffling voice from Wolf Boss.
The peacock's ringing ears softened to a near silence, but the shoji walls in his eyes began to reverberate in slow, uneven motions, drenching in dark cherry droplets. Instead of the Soothsayer's voice advising doctors and warriors to unleash their healing chi, Lao lowered his head and had his prolonged look upon the Shoji entry. Ebony silvers twirled its flowy rents and shrouds, appearing the eyes of red-orange in white.
Why don't you die at the Harbor?!
The reaper was his father in voluminous, hooded cloaks, holding his guan dao staff, waiting for his son's death as his beak hissed. Neither of the subjects heard any during Lao's brief phantasm. Shen's flowing gaze sharpened, gripping the weapon pole once he entered the recovery room behind Soothsayer and Zhong. His glare of which Lao remembered the calamity memories from the Summit Village that houses scorched along the avians' caws and cries. Shen stood next to the blossom tree, and the foliage burned into firefly embers before all five balls of fire illuminated the midnight sky above him and the horde of wolves sprinting into the affray.
Under Lao's neck was a warm yellow light bathing him. Unlike other remedies to treat wounds and injuries after fighting, this enchanting healing had Lao ease his severe tensions and the wound, unable to see or hear the light's blessing. Dry red eyes washed away, the sensation returning to normal as the reaper was out of sight, billowing rented shadows to a fade before Lao alleviated his breaths.
Withdrawing her paw from casting her chi, Hong gently hopped on the stretcher and inspected the peacock's faded wound and his pulse under his chin as warriors finished healing the weak. "Lao?" Hong shattered her voice, her digit sensing the bird's pulse. Her warm paw stroked Lao's cheek. "You are alright, my bestie. It was only a dream."
His wing blanketed her back, droning his creamy sigh.
"Regain your strength, Lady Kasi. Check Master Shujaa," Soothsayer urged.
Chen Xing watched the leopardess nod and leave the chamber, massaging her crown. Leaning his shoulder against the shoji door, the tiger rubbed his forehead and eyes, fatiguing. "Master Xing. You have not been resting for four days," he heard the goat. "Your grandmother wishes me and Commander Zhong to aid Prince Dongji. You must rest."
"Go on, brother. I will watch Lao," Hong worded, drooping her long ears back as she could see the tiger giving his tiring stare at Wolf Boss and Soothsayer. Mali's protector, however, curled his lips downward but nodded to Xing.
Most chambers were taken for the weak and wounded guards from the Kong Bai Stadium — the worse ones to seek critical assistance and care. Chen Xing treated his bruises well with Hong's remedy and Mantis's acupunctures that steadied his pressure joints. Despite the no other room for him to grant his resting, Xing needed to stay with Lao — a big brother responsible for looking after the young, but misfortunes occurred to them all.
One who was soft-hearted to invite into a chamber without rejection, Monkey urged Xing to lie in his bed. While bearing his injured arm, Monkey told the tiger he could check on the Nine with bidding, as each warrior could do the honors. By the time Monkey departed his room, Xing had begun to doze.
And his napping flushed his tension away, allowing Xing to enjoy his serenity thoughts as he reflected on memories of his peacock brother tagging their limbs together while sprinting. At last, he longed for peace, but Xing's back bathed with embers, summoning the bovine tyrant from the scorching forest.
