War (Chi Warriors Book 3)

by Ino Lee

“Heh. Are you all Shaolin?”

  Riyon shrugged, then held up a hand to halt Kai. “This one’s mine. Make the call for help.”

  Kai nodded and ran to the window.

  Riyon snapped his three-section staff taut, both ends out with the center piece leveled horizontally in between.

  “Ready?”

  The ninja flipped his sword between hands. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

  Riyon grabbed the center staff so the left section had a longer strike, while the right could be used for defense and a short attack. When the ninja advanced, he slapped at his sword with his left to space them and waited for the right moment. They exchanged several rounds, the ninja extra pesky, when Riyon spotted an opening. He tossed the long end forward and spun it, creating a funnel of unpredictable fury that backtracked his opponent, then tossed the remaining section of the weapon at his face, completely letting go and freeing his hands.

  The ninja struggled to keep up and raised his sword to defend, when Riyon popped up closer to him. He jabbed with bare fingers at nerve clusters on the ninja’s arm, causing him to drop his sword. The ninja wildly punched with his other hand, but Riyon sidestepped and kicked into his knee, then jabbed again at the nerve clusters on his neck and chest. The fighter dropped to his knees.

  “Tell me, young man,” Riyon said. “Did you really kill your father?”

  The ninja smiled. “He’s just a poor tea server at Pouyong’s.”

  Riyon quickly struck between the eyes and knocked him out. He wiped his hands together.

  “Still have it.”

  “What took you so long?” Hojin asked impatiently.

  Riyon snarled back. “I had the toughest one.”

  “I’m pretty sure I did.”

  “Enough. How’s it going, Kai?”

  Kai’s staff was pointed out the window, flaring a light orb up high. He retracted it and looked out.

  “They had to have seen it by now.”

  The others came over. A number of Biyan guards in the street pointed at the sky.

  “So have the guards,” Panyin said.

  “It’s okay,” Riyon said. “It will only be a matter of time now.”

  “There!” Kai said.

  City guards and Shaolin warriors began storming the street, the raid previously planned by Riyon. He had prepared most of the Shaolin warriors for mobilization the night before and relayed to them the story of how and Hojin and Kai uncovered the secret of Biyan, how the Poisoned Blood held their friend captive, and how they planned to rescue her come morning. He didn’t tell them the whole story, however, or say that he knew where the boys were. He only said that he would investigate with Wong come morning, and if their forces stormed Biyan before they could gather intel and signal the all-clear, their lives could be in danger. They waited to mobilize the local city guards that morning so details of their raid wouldn’t be leaked.

  “Do you think we’re safe in here?” Shadow said, uncomfortable with all the bodies lying on the floor.

  “As long as we don’t draw attention,” Riyon said.

  There was a loud knock at the door.

  Riyon flailed his hands in frustration, then signaled them to be quiet. “Maybe they’ll pass.”

  He felt confident that even if the door broke open, they could handle whatever came through after fighting four elite Blood Ninjas with ease. He had vastly underestimated the children’s skill and realized they were strong and mature beyond their years. He felt proud. Even Ting, who was untrained and the youngest by far, handled herself with the cunning and composure of a Shaolin warrior.

  The door banged again.

  Everyone froze, keeping silent.

  Ting yelled. “Go away, no one’s here.”

  Riyon’s face dropped.

  38

  THE TONKAIJA THRUST and slashed, weaving strikes to keep Wong occupied. Though many other ninjas stirred on the floor, it refused to call for help, confident in its ability to deal with the hated human alone. Eventually, others would come across them and join the battle, ruining the possibility of a victory wrought from single-handed combat, so it pressed the assault, eager to claim his head before having to share the glory.

  A sweep of its naginata caused Wong to block with his shield and step in with his sword, which in turn was blocked by its long knife. Every strike was met with an equal response, every call answered. The elite ninja dropped its naginata to adjust for the tight quarters and unsheathed a saber, then alternated strikes back and forth with its knife.

  They fought to a standstill, but it was a losing proposition for Wong—the building was brim with enemies and sooner or later his cup would overflow with others joining the battle. Since his mission was to find his friends rather than wage war against every ninja and demon encountered, he began to rethink his options.

  When three Blood Ninjas rounded the corner, he cut his losses and ran the other way. He moved away from the sound of Ting’s earlier whistle, but hoped to find a way to circle back.

  “Coward,” the tonkaija howled.

  New shouts erupted. Two more ninjas exited a door ahead, forcing him to punch his way through with a second sword. The pursuing crowd grew. He would have to lose them before he had any chance of making his way back.

  A satchel hung on his belt, its prickly contents affirmed when he ran his fingers along the exterior and felt pointed barbs. He shook the contents free, the sharp metal bouncing on the floor and sounding off as a litany of tiny pings. Ninjas tripped up in his wake and cried aloud as caltrops punctured their feet, making him snicker as he pulled away.

  The space allowed him to quietly duck around a corner, where he faced a brand new batch of Blood Ninjas. They unloaded on him with shuriken, causing him to hop onto the side of the wall with little else room to maneuver. He flipped back and curled into a ball in the corner, flaring the blades of his arm shield to extend its cover. Knives and cutting stars bounced off his metal in an unending torrent of fire. A break in the action resulted in an uncertain pause where Wong did not move from position as expected, but instead rolled a havoc ball from behind his shield. It moved steadily down the hallway toward the suspicious ninjas when needles suddenly sprayed from the sphere and dropped them.

  He poked his head above the shield to make sure the path was clear. Nothing moved.

  Sounds could be heard stirring from the hallway behind him, so he rushed into a stairwell, choosing to go lower since Ting’s earlier whistle seemed to come from below. More bodies stood in his way and he shouted in frustration at the unending stream of enemies, slicing his way through the horde and kicking a final ninja down the stairs.

  The second floor was equally chaotic with plainclothes Blood Ninjas and Biyan security. He fought his way past a few more men and a new chase began.

  Where were Ting and the others? He might have to find a quiet moment to put on his bug mask again to see if Ting was still whistling.

  His pursuers shouted. He sensed a knife coming at him from behind and swung his arm shield around to deflect it, then paused to drop kick the closest officer, twist, roll, and take flight again.

  Time for another satchel. He sheathed a sword and reached for a dark green bag—this one filled with powder and attached to a shuriken knife by an elastic string. He threw the blade hard into the ceiling, then held onto the bag as he ran, stretching the rope fully before letting go, snapping it back and spraying its contents into the air behind him.

  “Stinging powder!” one guard yelled, clenching his face and dropping to his knees.

  “Cover your eyes!” yelled another.

  More pursuers screeched and grabbed their faces, causing them to stumble as a bumbling mass and fall over.

  Wong laughed again.

  Immediately ahead, more men appeared. So be it. He reached above his shoulder and pulled a throwing knife from its spring-load
ed sheath, his muscle memory dispatching the knife instantly to fell the closest attacker. He rose with a flying kick and a backhand of the Iron Fist to take out the others.

  The halls were chaos. He reached into his pockets and sent explosive pellets to the ground, filling the hallways with smoke and obscuring the view. He then ducked into a room unnoticed, eager for a moment of peace.

  He donned Kunchu and his bug senses went wild: sounds, smells, and blotches of color all mixed together in psychedelic fashion. Someday he would learn to interpret them all, but the one thing he was certain of was that there was no whistling sound. Where could Ting be?

  Something stirred in the connecting room. A Blood Ninja stepped through the doorway, having changed into a fresh new outfit, only to be taken by surprise and have a feathered dart thrown into his chest. His muscles tightened and froze; he collapsed to the ground in a panicked state, unable to move.

  Wong slowly walked over, Kunchu on his face, the visage of the bug a frightening prospect to one paralyzed on the ground.

  “Do you know who I am?” he said in a hoarse, uneven bug voice.

  The ninja struggled. His hands and feet twitched, but little else moved. Wong heard his heart beat faster.

  “I am the bug man, Kunchu. You have been paralyzed by my venom. Do you understand?”

  The ninja twitched some more, a pale fright coming over his face.

  Wong leaned in. “If you do not answer, I will split your head open and slowly eat your brains.” He touched the man’s skull. “Do you understand?”

  The ninja squealed. “Yes.”

  “There was an old man with children here. Just now. Where are they?”

  The ninja’s eyes flared and he struggled to shake his head.

  Wong sniffed his scent and listened to his heart beat again. If he prodded him more and asked enough questions, he might be able to figure out if he was lying, but that would take too long. His scare tactic seemed to be working and the most expedient way to find answers.

  “You know where they are.” He grabbed his ear. “Maybe I’ll have a snack first, nibble on this.” He took out a knife.

  “Escaped.”

  “What?”

  “Escaped.”

  “Where?”

  “Don’t . . . know.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  Wong wondered if his friends were able to get out of the building or if they were still running around the floors, sneaking from room to room like he was. There was also the possibility that the ninja was lying.

  He leaned in again. “I’ll be back if you’re lying. I’ll lay my eggs in your skin.”

  He snickered under his mask, then crept over to the door and looked out. The smoke had thinned. The guards seemed to be panicking more than before, which he supposed was a good thing if it meant they were still looking for Riyon and the others. He glanced back at the frozen Blood Ninja. If he disguised himself as one of them, he would be able to move around more freely, but changing would take time because of all his gear, and using Kunchu would still give him away, which was needed if Ting were to whistle again.

  Perhaps there was a way he could move freely around as Kunchu. The smoke gave him an idea, but he did not bring enough ammunition. He studied the room, a ready station for the Poisoned Blood, and saw supplies on the far wall. A table held shurikens, vials of poison, ropes, and chains, but what interested him most was a box full of smoke bombs.

  Smoke lofted through the corridors like a dense fog rolling in from the marshes. The ninjas huddled together with their swords up, suspicious of the phenomenon. Were the prisoners using the smoke to remain hidden? The cloud wafted forward and a few explosions sounded off behind them, fully encompassing them in a gray haze.

  A curious sound approached.

  “Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Hmmm. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Hmmm.”

  “What the hell is that?” a ninja yelled.

  The sound grew louder.

  “Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Hmmm.”

  Suddenly a metal fist protruded from the cloud and knocked out the foremost ninja.

  “What are you?” another ninja yelled, slashing wildly at the smoke before a black face with round eyes and antennas burst through the cloud and walloped him.

  Kunchu’s senses were perfectly attuned to navigating the smoky landscape, the nervous steps and smells of the ninjas giving away their location. Though his vision was poor for direct line of sight, it was good for picking up every movement of shadow and shift of cloud.

  There were more grunts and groans, and then, silence.

  The bug man pressed forward, the high-pitched call of Ting’s whistle sounding off again from a higher floor. He dispatched more smoke and searched for a stairwell, but instead saw light from a sky well. When he peered up the cavernous channel, the sound stopped, and he wondered which floor it had come from. It couldn’t have been more than a flight or two up. He tied rope around the box of smoke bombs, threw up a grappling hook, then climbed and listened near the top.

  Footsteps swarmed in one direction, which made him believe his friends were being pursued. He crawled over the top of the railing and stooped low to avoid being seen, then hauled up his box of cargo.

  Ninjas soon spotted him and he lofted a handful of smoke pellets their way before disappearing. He would have to take a circuitous route to the direction of footsteps heard earlier to avoid the bulk of the ninjas, but hopefully he’d find his way.

  The next hallway revealed a lone figure stationed in his path. He stepped closer before recognizing the tonkaija’s visor, its voice reverberating through the metal holes in its face.

  “You did not finish what was started.”

  Wong shrugged. “Short attention span.”

  He looked for another way out, not wanting to get bogged down in combat, especially now that he was so close to finding the others.

  The tonkaija read his intentions. “Pathetic. Will the dreaded Man Demon run like a coward again?”

  Wong put down the box and grabbed a handful of pellets with his Iron Fist, then stepped closer.

  “Maybe you’re not worth my time.”

  The tonkaija unsheathed a sword and ran forward, screaming. “Die, bug!”

  “Find me first.”

  He squeezed his gauntlet just as the ninja arrived, spewing smoke from his fist like a geyser.

  39

  XIONG BRACED HIS legs against the railing to stop his descent, then pulled himself up over the top, where a group of dark ninjas closed in. Despite their numbers, they did not do well to challenge a Shaolin general with the energy of Infinity water coursing through his veins, meeting a quick and decisive end.

  “Welcome,” Xiong said, helping Jaguan up as he pulled into the tower.

  Jaguan took note of the fallen. “I see you were not idle.”

  Reinforcements arrived to help secure the platform, allowing even more troops to glide in safely. When a sizable crowd had formed, Xiong, Jaguan, Renshu, and Aiying splintered off with the goal of reaching the command center somewhere near the top; it was the key to overtaking Tiger Lair and where the radiance pool was likely positioned. They covertly tried to push their way up as the others spread chaos below and drew the most attention, branching out as more forces touched down. The magaus cawed wildly and overtook the treetop fortress like a line of ants converging on a fallen pear.

  The stealth force moved freely up two levels, but then had to redirect when a kaigun-shur with a swarm of Koon Gee descended. The Shaolin generals shifted and fought across the platform to find a new way up, while Renshu took to the side of the tower, clawing his way unimpeded and forging ahead. Aiying guarded the rear and fired an arrow to keep the soldiers at bay. A ninja fell, but the kaigun-shur batted the subsequent arrows astray with its sword.

  Xiong and Jaguan clashed with additional soldiers and their progre
ss stalled.

  “Better keep moving,” Aiying yelled.

  She reached for a satchel given to her by the magaus, threw it at the pursuing kaigun-shur, and fired an arrow through the center to scatter its contents.

  “Monkey dust,” a ninja said, choking.

  The demon stepped through the dust in spirit form while its comrades fell. Aiying passed an arrow and a knife through its spectral body to delay its solidification, then chased it away with swings of her bow. The lo-shur spirit floated to an upper level to gain distance.

  Xiong and Jaguan broke through the resistance and pressed forward again. They saw another staircase with two ninjas descending, when the Dragon Arm poked through the railing near their feet and caused them to tumble.

  Renshu hopped over the side. “Come!” He eagerly waved and rushed to the top.

  He thumped a dagwai and a ninja, then faced the kaigun-shur which Aiying had chased away. It dodged a Dragon Arm strike, rolled, and picked up a mace from the fallen dagwai to attack. Renshu had trouble blocking its forceful swings, so he flipped onto the railing, tiptoed along the siding and pulled away, deciding it better to draw the demon away so the others had a clearer path to the top.

  The demon was aggressive and direct, while Renshu was elusive. It smashed through the railing wildly in pursuit of the monkey king while he somersaulted away, then lengthened the Dragon Arm to sweep through the back of its legs. The demon tried to flip back to its feet again, but Renshu’s feet planted firmly on its chest for a quick vertical hop, followed by a thrust of his weapon’s newly pointed end. The demon shifted to smoke before its body could be impaled.

  Renshu taunted the demon by patiently waiting and balancing on the Dragon Arm vertically, his feet off the ground and braced against the staff, holding him in a meditative pose.

  The demon glanced at the floor after losing its weapon and saw its mace near Renshu, wondering whether the magau’s balancing act was a trick meant to anger it into careless action. It did not matter. The creature was insignificant and tricks would not work against a superior entity. It took a step forward, causing Renshu to spring to his feet and curl his tail around the mace, then flick it over the side of the tower.