“I've changed my mind,” Hok replied. “If you disagree, then by all means go. It's probably best if I stay here alone, anyway. You'll just end up talking too much and get us caught.”
“Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Hok said, shaking his head. “Forget it. Is there anything you want to tell me, Malao? I notice your stick poking out of your robe.”
Malao looked down and shoved the decorated stick back into the folds of his robe. “Oh, yeah. I ran into a soldier who was carrying it. I took it from him.”
“You took it from him?”
“Yep. I snatched it away, then I knocked him unconscious.”
“So he's still alive?”
“Of course he's still alive,” Malao said. “I'm no killer.”
Hok's thin eyebrows raised up. “We need to hurry, then.”
“Hurry with what?” Malao asked. “I thought we were just going to sit around and watch.”
“We are, but first we need to retrieve Grandmaster's body. And we must do it while it's still dark.”
Malao twitched. “What? Why?”
“We need to bury Grandmaster and pay our respects.”
“P-pay our respects?”
“Yes, otherwise his spirit will never be at rest,” Hok said. “Is this a problem for you? Why are you trembling?”
“N-no problem here,” Malao replied.
“Good,” Hok said as he stood. “Grandmaster's body lies near the main gate. If you can stage some type of diversion, I think I can sneak in and then back out without being noticed.”
“That's all you want me to do? Get some soldiers’ attention?” Malao took a deep breath and wiped his brow. “That's easy. Do you think those soldiers are superstitious? Because I was thinking, if they're afraid of ghosts—”
Hok frowned. “Don't get carried away, Malao. All we need is a simple distraction.”
Malao pouted.
Hok shook his head. “Here's what we'll do. We'll wait until things settle down, then you and I will sneak over to the compound wall that backs up to the bathhouse. Do you remember that tall tree inside the compound where the wall by the bathhouse and the front wall meet?”
“You mean the large elm in the corner?” Malao asked.
“Yes,” Hok replied. “You scale the outer wall by the bathhouse and hide in that tree with a handful of rocks. I'm going to sneak around the front wall and hide in the shadow of the gate. When I'm ready, I'll wave my arm, then you toss the rocks onto the bathhouse roof one at a time. Hopefully, that will distract the soldiers long enough for me to grab Grandmaster and slip back out again. If we're lucky, the soldiers won't notice the body is missing until morning.”
“I'm not sure rocks will be enough of a distraction,” Malao said. A smile began to form on his lips. “What if—”
“Don't push it, Malao. Just toss some rocks and come straight back here. I'm going to do a little eavesdropping now. You sit tight until I return. Got it?”
Malao nodded and casually scratched his upper lip in an effort to hide his uncontrollable grin. He must have been successful because Hok hopped out of the hollow and sailed down from the tree.
Ying stood alone in the moonlight in front of the Cangzhen sleeping quarters. The deep grooves in his face stretched as he yawned. He needed to rest. So far, he had only partially succeeded with his mission. Cangzhen had been destroyed, and proof of Grandmaster's death was on its way to the Emperor. But he didn't have the scrolls, and his five little brothers were still on the loose.
Ying spat on the ground. His brothers’ escape was particularly upsetting. He had spent his entire life watching those five get special treatment because of a past none of them knew about. Ying had always guessed the boys held a special place in Grandmaster's heart. And after seeing how far Grandmaster had gone to protect them, he was now sure of it. Since the boys were so important to Grandmaster, Ying decided that they must pay the ultimate price in order to fully repay the blood debt Grandmaster owed him.
Since leaving Cangzhen, Ying had learned many things about his past. But the worst was that his father had been killed by Grandmaster, who had then plucked Ying away from his family. Ying had always had vague memories of this, but he'd been just a toddler at the time. He'd never been able to make out the face of the culprit. However, since he'd learned the truth, those memories had begun resurfacing in the form of nightmares. Nightmares about his father— a powerful dragon-style master—falling to Grandmaster's own dragon-style fists.
Ying was now certain he had dragon blood in his veins. And yet Grandmaster had raised him as an eagle. There could never be worse punishment for Ying or any other warrior monk than being raised as something other than what you truly were. Now that Ying was in a position to judge, he had taken it upon himself to issue the punishments. He had already executed Grandmaster's sentence. Soon it would be time to punish the five young monks.