The gray of dusk dropped into the horizon. The small party was on a narrow, winding road, the early moonlight as their guide, hoping to reach the city of He Ku before darkness settled. They had not spoken since leaving the foot of Redwood Cliff.

  “You are a scholar, Li Kung?” Sochai asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “Yes.”

  “My grandfather once said, the scholars and artists of China view death differently from the rest of the world.”

  “How is that?” Li Kung asked.

  “Death comes in two forms. You are either killed, or you die from disease or old age. If you die from disease or age, it is because you are not strong. If you are killed, it is because you are not strong. The scholars can accept death from disease and old age. But they are afraid of being killed. Why?”

  Li Kung thought for a second. “How can you compare murder with natural death? Murder is premature death.”

  “Murder? What is murder? When you slaughter a chicken and eat its flesh, does that make you a murderer?”

  “A man is not a chicken!”

  “A man is different from a chicken because he cannot be eaten, but he can be killed to guarantee survival of another man. Just like the chicken.”

  “Then, who decides who lives and who gets killed?”

  “The stronger man of course.”

  Li Kung started. Pun grabbed his hand and shook her head. “Don’t argue with him,” she warned quietly.

  “That’s not why we have civilization,” Li Kung said, breaking away from Pun’s grip. “That’s not why we’re decent, humane people. We belong to a society. Those in our civilization wouldn’t slaughter each other for quick profit or kill without good reason.”

  Sochai released a strange, mocking laugh. “All in the name of justice! So you kill for a quick profit, and then label it ‘good reason.’ Perhaps your people only kill to save the world?”

  There was silence. Pun tugged on Li Kung’s sleeve. “We better get going. Uh, we can discuss this later, when we reach an inn in He Ku.”

  Sochai continued walking, Li Kung and Pun closely behind, glancing at each other, aware that they could be in grave danger traveling with this barbarian.

  The sky continued to darken. The twisting road toward He Ku was only ankle deep in snow, yet their journey was slow, almost painful. Sochai remained in front, his head bowed, his eyes on the ground.

  “Say something,” Pun whispered to Li Kung. “Who knows what he’s thinking? Say something and break the tension.”

  Li Kung was lost in deep thought.

  Pun ran closer. “Since you’re new here ...I ...I can explain our world to you.”

  Sochai didn’t answer. She turned to Li Kung, still walking with his head down.

  “We’re also new to this area,” she continued. “We’re from the South.”

  No answer.

  “You don’t speak much,” Pun said. “Well, let me tell you anyway. We’re very far from the capital you know, and the emperor really doesn’t care about us. That’s why you see so many armed men, because everyone’s on their own here.”

  The Mongolian marched on in silence, ignoring her. She took a deep breath and continued: “The Martial Society is all over the country of course, but because the imperial courts have so little influence here, the Red and Green Dragons became the big warlords. They’re the two largest and most powerful Houses in the region. They weren’t always called the Red and Green Dragons, but the Red Dragon warriors were always dressed in red and the Green Dragons always dressed in green. That’s how they got their names. They hate each other, even though their leaders are brothers. Twins, in fact.”

  “The Martial Society is made up of separate schools of martial arts,” Li Kung added from behind. “They all teach a different lineage of fighting styles. I heard the fighting skills of the two Dragon Houses have never been defeated.”

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  It wasn’t working. Pun ebbed back to Li Kung’s side, an urgent sense of fear in her eyes. Any minute, the Mongolian could draw the massive saber by his side and slice them in half. They walked slower to distance themselves.

  “Maybe you are right,” Sochai suddenly said.

  “Right about what?” Li Kung asked.

  “That humans cannot be compared to chickens. Killing a human cannot guarantee survival. Then again, killing chickens cannot guarantee survival either.”

  All along, Sochai was merely lost in his own thoughts. Li Kung breathed a sigh of relief. He took Pun’s hand and walked beside the Mongolian again.

  “But killing the man back there was done to guarantee your survival,” Sochai said. “That instance was directly related to the chicken. If you are dying of hunger, and a chicken is slaughtered for food, then you live. If the man wants to kill you, and he is killed first, then you also live. It is the same thing.”

  Pun broke into a laugh, then quickly covered her mouth and choked herself.

  “He wasn’t going to kill me,” Li Kung said.

  “They were looking for you. There is a reward for your head.”

  “Really?” Pun asked. “How much is his head worth?”

  Li Kung scowled at her. “I know. I recommended putting the Old Grandmother out of her misery. I think they didn’t want to hear that.”

  “Who is this Old Grandmother?”

  “The mother of Wei Bin and Wei Xi. Wei Bin is the leader of the Red Dragons—on Redwood Cliff. Wei Xi is the leader of the Green Dragons. They’re brothers; and they’re enemies.”

  “Wei Xi is really vain,” Pun said with a mischievous smile. “He calls himself Lord of the Garden of Eternal Light. Now everyone, especially his Green Dragons, have to call him Lord Xi. Meanwhile, his twin is just Master Bin to his men.”

  Sochai nodded. “But I heard this Old Grandmother has been sick for ten years.”

  “How did you hear so many things?” Pun asked. “You’re Mongolian and you just came here.”

  “I don’t understand how she’s still alive,” Li Kung said. “Some inner will, maybe, some strange desire to go on living for something. But she couldn’t leave her bed, and she’s in constant pain. She can barely speak. Most of the time, a person who’s been ill like that would resign to death.”

  “What about someone as ill as I am?” Sochai muttered under his breath.

  Li Kung thought for a second. “Whatever blood left in your body is toxic. How could you still be alive?” He reached into the depths of his coat and pulled out a little sack. “There’s not enough moonlight. I better light a torch.”

  Pun handed him a large stick of wood, and in a moment, there was a blazing fire on the end of the stick. Li Kung held the torch closer to the ground, reflecting the light off the snow with a brilliant luminance.

  “How did you do that?” Sochai asked.

  “Do what?”

  “I saw Pun pick the branch off the ground. The wood is wet. How did you light it on fire?”

  Li Kung held a little pouch in front of him. “This green powder, in here, can set anything on fire. I just sprinkled a little on the wood so it’ll burn. I can even sprinkle this on ice and set the ice on fire.”

  “Set ice on fire! Where did you get this powder?”

  “I made it myself. One of my mentors taught me. He said my spirit belongs to the fire element and I’m destined to set things on fire all my life. Do you want some?”

  Sochai took the pouch, weighed it in his hand for a second, and then returned it. “I would not know how to use it. But now I see. Your civilization is truly advanced.”

  Pun giggled, reached out and pushed his hand back. “It’s easy. Just sprinkle it on something and light it on fire.”

  Sochai thought for a second, and then pocketed the pouch with a whisper of thanks. Pun and Li Kung smiled back, relieved that he accepted the gift. Perhaps the barbarian was not so dangerous after all.

  The Mongolian’s eyes suddenly flashed in alarm. With a quick slap, he struck the torch from Li Kung’s hand, extinguishing it. “People coming,” he whispered, moving off the road. “This way. They are armed.”

  “Where?”

  Sochai grabbed them, pulled them to the side of the road and into the woods. They crouched low.

  “Coming from where?”

  “From both directions.”

  After a long time, they could hear the light plodding of horse hooves. Li Kung was deep inside the bushes, a good distance away, but he saw them. It was a large group of men, dressed in dark red, apparently unarmed and riding in perfect unison. In front of the group was an old man with long white hair. He lifted his hand to halt his men.

  Another group of men came from the other side of the road. Li Kung counted ten, eleven of them on horseback, all of them armed, all of them in light green robes. They were carrying broadswords.

  A short, stocky man dressed in green rode in on a chestnut horse. “Red Dragons! What business do you have here?”

  The old man with the long hair brought his horse closer. “So it’s Stump. What a coincidence, bumping into you on this little trail.”

  Stump winced at the old man calling him by his nickname. “The great strategist Tao Hing,” he said in a low voice. “Traveling unarmed in my territory.”

  “We don’t carry arms during mourning,” Tao Hing replied. “But of course it doesn’t concern you, since you’re not related to the Old Grandmother. Weren’t you informed?”

  “Informed of what?’

  “The Old Grandmother just passed away.”

  Stump fell back. The men behind him lowered their arms and bowed in silence.

  “The Old Grandmother’s dead!” Li Kung whispered. He squeezed Pun’s hand, his heart pounding. “We’re too late.”

  Tao Hing threw his head back and laughed. “I nearly forgot. You’re adopted. Your surname’s not even Wei. By the way, Stump, do you know who your real father is, or does your mother not even know?”

  “The old man’s unarmed,” Li Kung whispered. “He’s in great danger!”

  “The short one is in greater danger,” Sochai replied. “The old man dropped spikes in the snow already, but the short one did not see it.”

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