“Crazy Monkey Swats the Fly!” Ying shouted, and Malao responded by racing forward, swinging his monkey stick wildly. The guard saw Malao coming and shifted his arms to protect himself, but he was too slow. Malao leaped high into the air and brought the monkey stick down on the crown of the man's skull with a tremendous crack. The guard slumped to the ground, out cold, his finger still on the qiang's trigger.
Click … fizz … BANG!
The qiang fired, its fire stone-tipped hammer igniting black powder. The lead ball shot forward, and the unsupported weapon flew backward out of the unconscious man's hands. The qiang crashed against one wall of the tunnel, while the lead ball thudded into the opposite tunnel wall in a shower of debris.
Two down, two to go, Ying thought.
A third guard stepped up through thickening smoke and froze at the sight of his unconscious comrades being stood over by two children. Ying took advantage of the man's hesitation and lashed out with his chain whip. The whip's weighted end wrapped itself around the end of the guard's qiang several times. Ying yanked the barrel of the qiang down and sideways, and shouted, “Monkey Takes the High Road, Tiger Takes the Low!”
Fu and Malao attacked as one. Fu threw his shoulders into the man's knees at the same moment Malao sprang into the air and slammed his heels into the man's cheekbones. The guard sailed backward, releasing his grip on the qiang in order to use his hands to break his fall. That proved to be unnecessary, as the fourth guard ended up breaking the third guard's fall for him.
Fu wrestled the qiang from the fourth guard's hands, and Malao put both guards to sleep with his monkey stick.
Ying unwrapped his chain whip from the end of the third guard's qiang and put the whip back around his waist. He pointed to the remaining unfired qiang Fu was holding and said, “Give that to me.”
Fu growled and took a step back.
Hok gave Fu a cold glance. “Do it, Fu,” she said.
Fu handed the qiang over.
Ying slung one of the qiangs over his shoulder and pulled the second one tight across his chest.
“Follow me,” Ying hissed. “No matter what happens, do not stop walking.”
“What are we going to—” Malao began.
“No questions!” Ying snapped. He turned and walked away. Behind him, he heard the others scramble and follow.
When Ying reached the bend where he'd first heard the guards, he turned the corner without breaking stride. The smoke was quite thick now, still flowing toward the exit door. Perfect. The exit door was still open. He would no longer need the keys.
Ying stopped and laid the key ring down, then quickly looked over the qiangs. The pans were full of powder, and the flints were locked firmly in place at the ends of the hammers. He could only hope that each had a lead ball rammed down its barrel.
Ying slung one of the qiangs across his back, raised the other to his shoulder, and headed for the exit door.
Ying strode through the tunnel exit door with all the confidence of a seasoned general, smoke wafting around him in the hot night air. Three guards stood in a cluster fifteen paces from him in a narrow alley behind the burning fight club.
The men stopped in mid-conversation and stared for several moments through the darkness before one of them had the sense to try to raise his qiang.
“Put that down!” Ying barked, swinging his own qiang toward the man. “All of you, lay your weapons on the ground!” Ying fanned his qiang back and forth between the guards. The first guard lowered his weapon. The others followed suit.
Ying continued forward, making eye contact with each of the men. They were young, not much older than him, and probably unseasoned. He bared his pointed teeth and flicked out his forked tongue in the dim firelight. All three men flinched.
Definitely unseasoned, Ying thought. He knew that any two of them could have raised their qiangs and fired, and he would certainly have fallen. However, one of them would most certainly have fallen, too. None of them was willing to take that chance.
“Lie down!” Ying spat.
The guards looked tentatively at one another. One of them glanced toward the exit doorway. “Look!” he said. “It's the girl from the pit arena—”
“Quiet!” Ying hissed, his finger on his qiang's trigger.
The man closed his mouth. Ying nodded at the cobblestones, and the guard dropped to the ground. Ying fanned his qiang across the other guards again, and they dropped to the ground, too.
“Fu! Malao!” Ying snapped. “Pick up the qiangs.”
Malao scampered through the doorway and grabbed a qiang that was longer than he was tall. Fu grabbed the other two.
“Let's go,” Ying said. “Hok, lead the way.”