Malao clapped excitedly.
The Emperor turned to Long. “What about you, young dragon?”
Long knew exactly what he planned to do next, but he was not interested in sharing it with anyone. “I do not know,” he replied.
The Emperor’s smile widened. “I have an offer for you. When things have stabilized, Xie will be leaving for Tunhuang. I will be in need of a new personal bodyguard. As this year’s Fight Club Grand Champion, you would be a perfect choice. Not to mention the fact that your dedication and loyalty are unquestionable.”
“Thank you for the generous offer, Your Eminence,” Long said, “but I am afraid I will have to decline.”
The Emperor appeared taken aback. “What? It takes a brave man to refuse the Emperor, you know.”
Long did not wish to offend him. He decided it was better to answer the question. “I plan to go to Cangzhen Temple.”
“Really?” ShaoShu interjected. “I was just there. There is hardly anything left. Everything has been burned.”
“Exactly,” Long replied. “I will rebuild it.”
There was a pleased murmur along the length of the table, and Wuya said, “Pardon me, Sire, but Tonglong stole a fortune from Ying’s—I mean Saulong’s—family. He gave much of that treasure to me, believing he was buying my support. Since Saulong and Long are cousins, that treasure is rightfully Long’s.”
Long shook his head. “Saulong’s mother, my aunt, is still very much alive. The treasure belongs to her.”
The Emperor rubbed his freshly shaven chin. “You will need to fund the rebuilding somehow, Long. Let me help. I owe you at least that much.”
Long paused. He remembered the trouble his grandfather had gotten into taking money from the Emperor. On the other hand, he would likely never be able to raise enough on his own, and he possessed none. “Thank you for the generous offer,” he said. “May I think about it? Oftentimes, we dragons like to do things our own way, even if it makes life more difficult.”
“Of course,” the Emperor said. “Take all the time you need. Now, who is ready for a celebration?”
The Emperor clapped his hands twice, and servants began to pour into the banquet hall, carrying tray after tray of elaborately prepared food. Malao and Fu looked at each other with huge smiles, and Shao -Shu squealed with delight.
“I hope they aren’t serving Greasy Goose!” Malao said.
Fu blushed, and Sanfu laughed. “I see it affects you the same way it affects me, son. Nothing to be ashamed of. If Malao gives you any more trouble, let me know and we’ll sit on either side of him with Greasy Goose drumsticks in our hands. His stinky feet kung fu will have nothing on us.”
The bandits and the young monks all broke into laughter and began to talk among themselves. Everyone, that is, except Long. He stood, suddenly feeling as though the walls were closing in around him. He bowed to the Emperor and approached the throne. “Pardon me, Sire, but I could use a little fresh air.”
“Certainly,” the Emperor said. “Wuya can show you the way to the courtyard. It is a fine winter day.”
“If it is all the same to you, Your Eminence, I would prefer to show myself out.”
“As you wish.”
Long bowed again and slipped out of the room. Instead of heading for the courtyard, however, he went directly to the Emperor’s suite. No one stopped him.
Long blinked as he entered alone the room where just three hours ago his life had changed forever. Ying’s and Tonglong’s remains had been taken away, and the floors had already been scrubbed clean. All that remained were a few small puddles that would soon dry and disappear. It was almost as if nothing had occurred here.
Almost.
In the back corner of the room, Long saw Ying’s chain whip and their grandfather’s sword resting on an ornate table. He walked over and picked up the items. He was not sure how he felt about someone separating these things from Ying’s body, but at least the weapons had been treated with the utmost respect. Both had been thoroughly cleaned and dried, and someone had even coated the sword’s blade with a thin sheen of oil to help protect it against rust. Long nodded his approval.
He unfurled the chain whip and wrapped it around his waist like a sash, loosely tying the ends in front of him. This was how his grandfather used to carry his chain whip into battle.
Straight sword in hand, Long crossed the room and found the secret panel door that led to the Emperor’s escape passageway. He had no key, but found that one was not necessary from this side. He opened the door, passed through it, and closed it tightly behind him. The others would understand if he did not say goodbye. They knew where they could find him.