The crowd burst into thunderous applause.
Long raised the torch high, and the crowd quickly quieted down. He approached the ring of oil and spoke softly to Hok. “The oil burns fast and furious, just like your opponent. You would be wise to avoid the flames. Better to fly into the jaws of the leopard than retreat and roast like a banquet pheasant.”
“Those words are most insightful, Golden Dragon,” Tsung growled as he whisked fistfuls of blood from his face. “How generous of you.”
Long didn't reply. Still expressionless, he lowered the torch over the oil.
“Not so fast!” Tsung said. “You've given me an idea.”
Long lifted the torch, and Tsung raised his one good eye toward the crowd, “Who wants to see me clip this criminal's wings?”
The crowd roared with applause and began to chant, “CLAW! CLAW! CLAW!”
Hok saw a large flash of silver from the direction of the Emperor's table and heard a loud CLANG! as something metallic hit the pit floor. Tsung bent down and picked the object up. Hok had no idea what it was.
“Hey, LaoShu!” someone shouted. “Unfair! I bet good money on this bout, and you're changing the tables by allowing a weapon after the gong. I demand equalization!”
Hok glanced up and saw that the speaker was HaMo. He had come down to the pit's edge, near the Emperor's table.
“What do you have in mind as an equalizer?” LaoShu asked.
HaMo reached into his robe and pulled something out. “This!” he said.
The crowd members closest to HaMo roared with laugher.
LaoShu chuckled and said, “Sure, HaMo. If you insist.”
HaMo leaned over the railing and yelled down to Hok, “Catch!” He threw something that looked like the wooden handle of a short weapon. Hok reached up and caught the spinning object. It was Malao's carved Monkey Stick.
Hok gripped one end of the Monkey Stick and looked at Tsung. He was adjusting the strange object over his right hand. She could now see that it was a fingerless glove that had four long daggers attached to the back. The daggers began at the glove's sleeve and ran across the back of the hand, over the knuckles, and well beyond the length of the fingers.
The crowd continued to chant, “CLAW! CLAW! CLAW!”
Hok glanced up at Seh. He was on the edge of his seat, one ear now cocked in her direction.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hok saw Long lower the torch. The oil ignited with a tremendous WHOOSH!
Hok closed her eyes against the intense heat and glare generated by a wall of flames that roared to her waist. She squinted in Tsung's direction and saw that he was still fumbling with his clawed glove.
HaMo yelled from above, “What are you waiting for, girl? Hit him!”
Hok took the hint. She swung the Monkey Stick as hard as she could at Tsung's right hand, but Tsung was too fast. He pulled his hand back, lashing out with the claw.
Hok hopped backward, out of harm's way. However, she landed dangerously close to the circular wall of fire. It lapped at her, waist high, and she was forced to step forward. The silk bag bounced off her stomach and she shoved it around behind her.
Tsung raised the claw up again, and Hok dropped to the ground, rolling to the opposite side of the burning circle of fire. She stayed on her knees and slipped one end of the Monkey Stick into her cupped palm, turning the stick downward so that the length of it was positioned along the inside of her forearm. She found that it stretched from the center of her hand to just beyond her elbow. Perfect.
Tsung rushed toward her, swinging the claw straight down at her head. Hok raised her forearm up and rotated it so that the claw connected with the wooden Monkey Stick. The daggers sank deep into the wood, but her arm was fine.
Still on her knees, Hok swung her free hand toward Tsung's lead leg and connected with a crane-beak fist. It sunk deep into a pressure point located on the outside of Tsung's leg, just above his knee. It was the same spot the Siamese Assassin had attacked with kicks.
Tsung snarled and his leg buckled, but he didn't go down. Hok tried to yank the Monkey Stick free of the daggers, but Tsung wrenched his arm back and Hok felt the Monkey Stick slip out of her hand. Tsung yanked the Monkey Stick off his claw and hurled it across the pit.
Hok took a step back, and the crowd gasped. Hok felt heat and glanced down to see that her silk bag had caught fire.
Hok tore her bag off in a frenzy, whipping it around in front of her by the strap. Tsung lunged forward and swung wildly at Hok with the claw, blinded by blood streaming from his brow. The very tips of the sharp claw daggers connected with the flaming bag, and bits of dried herbs flew out of slices in the bag. The bits caught fire, raining down on Tsung's head, neck, and shoulders.