The crowd roared with laughter.
Tonglong was not amused. He'd noticed that Golden Dragon had had the perfect opportunity to kick his opponent in the head as he flew over, which would have inflicted significant damage. However, Golden Dragon had held back. Allowing a fight to continue a moment longer than necessary could mean the difference between life and death. Golden Dragon was intelligent enough to know this. He was up to something.
The foreigner turned to face Golden Dragon.
Again, Golden Dragon sank low.
The foreigner rushed toward Golden Dragon, and Golden Dragon unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick. Tonglong could clearly see the momentum build from Golden Dragon's foot, up through his leg, into his hip, and around his waist—then back out the same way, like a dragon whipping its tail. The kick should have cracked the foreigner's skull in two. Instead, Golden Dragon's foot only grazed the burly man's forehead, stunning him.
The crowd gasped.
Tonglong's eyes narrowed. It took incredible skill and precision to graze someone's head like that.
The foreigner wobbled, and the crowd began to chant, “Finish him! Finish him! Finish him!”
Golden Dragon's jaw tightened visibly. Tonglong watched him cock back his right arm, form a dragon fist, and let it fly. The raised middle-finger knuckle of Golden Dragon's fist bounced off the side of the foreigner's head, and the big man crashed to the ground, out like a flame in a windstorm.
The crowd roared its approval.
Tonglong shook his head. These peasants had no idea what had just happened. Golden Dragon could have finished the foreigner any number of ways—for good—but instead he'd simply knocked the man out.
Tonglong leaned toward his mother. “Did you see that?” he whispered.
“Yesss,” AnGangseh replied. “The boy did not wish to harm his opponent. There is sssomething about that child I do not trust.”
“Me neither,” Tonglong said. “We must keep an eye on him.”
“Agreed,” AnGangseh said.
The Emperor leaned his regal head back toward Tonglong. “Discussing anything interesting?”
“Just commenting on the boy's extraordinary ssskill, Your Highness.”
“Indeed,” the Emperor said with a sniff. “He has a bright future ahead of him.” The Emperor turned away.
There were a few more fights scheduled for the night, but Tonglong was beginning to feel restless. Not long ago, he had received reports that Ying and Hok had been sighted walking along the canal front right here in Xuzhou. They were moving quickly and had managed to slip away through the crowd before Tong-long's men could react. However, Tonglong was confident Ying and Hok would be found. It was just a matter of time.
As though it were a sign from the heavens, AnGangseh tapped Tonglong gently on the knee and pointed discreetly toward the fight club's main door.
Tonglong looked over to see a very excited soldier in the doorway. The man signaled for Tonglong to join him. Tonglong could tell from the soldier's expression what news he possessed.
Ying had been sighted again.
Tonglong excused himself and headed for the entrance.
Ying pushed his way through Xuzhou's narrow back-streets, light-headed and dizzy. He felt as if he needed to throw up. Hok hurried behind him, carrying the bag of powdered dragon bone they'd taken from the pet vendor, along with Ying's bag of coins, plus her own. They'd been running for more than an hour, but the pet vendor's words still rang clearly in Ying's head. He'd spoken with the man for less than a quarter of an hour, but he knew that that short conversation had changed his life forever.
“Slow down, Ying,” Hok said. “The danger is behind us. You should rest and try to clear your head. Trust me, I know what you are going through.”
Ying stopped and turned to Hok. He was breathing heavily, his bruised ribs and injured shoulder screaming at him every time he inhaled. “You don't know a thing about what I'm going through.”
“Ying, please—”
Ying snatched his bag of coins from Hok and walked away, adjusting the scarf across his face. He saw an ancient woman ahead, hunched over a small basket that had steam pouring out of the top and hot coals beneath it. Dinner buns. Good. Some food might make his dizziness go away. He approached the old woman and bought everything she had—three buns filled with chicken and three with sweet red-bean paste. After paying, Ying shoved the bean-paste buns at his vegetarian former sister. “Stay close to me and keep your mouth shut,” he said.
Ying continued on and soon found a small, out-of-the-way alley off a dark section of street. Even the brilliant moon's rays couldn't reach into its depths. Ying sat down and took a huge bite of dinner bun. It was rather flavorless, but at least it was warm and filling. He had hoped to finish it in peace and quiet, but it seemed Hok had other plans.