Home > Dragon (Five Ancestors #7)(8)

Dragon (Five Ancestors #7)(8)
Author: Jeff Stone

Hok smiled. “You are never going to believe all that has happened with him. He is no longer the same person. We consider him an ally. He had a life-changing reunion with his mother and learned some startling things about his father, and especially his grandfather.”

Long’s eyes widened. “Ying knows about his grandfather?”

“Yes,” Hok said. “Grandmaster was Ying’s grandfather. Isn’t that tragic? Although he did not know it at the time, when Ying killed Grandmaster, he killed his only living relative besides his mother.”

Long closed his eyes, his dizziness worsening. “That is not exactly true.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ying has at least one more living relative, though his health is questionable at the moment.”

“Who?

“Me.”

“What?” Fu roared from the bow of Charles’ boat. “You and Ying are related?”

Long sighed. “You have good ears, Fu. Yes, Grandmaster was also my grandfather. Ying and I are cousins.”

“Does Ying know this?” Hok asked.

“I do not believe so,” Long replied. “Grandmaster kept many secrets, especially from Ying. It seems Ying’s father and my father were brothers. I always wanted to tell Ying, but Grandmaster forbade me. One thing Ying did know, though, was that Grandmaster killed his father. Ying was very young, but he saw it happen and he never forgot. I believe this is the main reason he killed Grandmaster—revenge. Additionally, Ying was upset that Grandmaster had changed his name. Ying’s name used to be Saulong—Vengeful Dragon. Grandmaster changed his name and started teaching him eagle-style kung fu instead of dragon-style.”

“That would upset me, too,” Charles said.

Long nodded.

“Wait—” Hok said. “If Grandmaster killed Ying’s father, that would mean that Grandmaster killed his own son.”

“That’s right,” Long said, his voice faltering. “Grandmaster told me that he did it after Ying’s father killed my parents. Grandmaster said that he had two sons, a good son—my father—and a bad son, Ying’s father. Grandmaster told me that Ying’s father was an abomination and needed to be dealt with so that no more people would be hurt by him. He said that the negative traits of a dragon were somehow amplified in Ying’s father, and he feared that Ying might be the same way. That is why he raised Ying as an eagle.”

“This is awful,” Hok said.

“It is,” Long said. “Poor Ying. I do not know anything about his mother, who would be my aunt.”

“We have met her,” Hok said. “Her name is WanSow—Cloud Hand—and she is a wonderful person. She was injured by Tonglong, but Ying is taking care of her now.”

“It sounds like Ying really has changed,” Long said.

Hok nodded.

“I hope to see him again,” Long said. “My aunt WanSow, too. If you happen to see him without me, please tell him all that I have shared with you. He needs to know. Grandmaster kept too many secrets. Look where it has gotten us.”

Hok nodded again, and a weary grin crept across Long’s face. After all that he and his temple siblings had been through, it seemed everyone was doing all right. The only exception might be Seh.

As the heavy hands of unconsciousness began to press against Long’s mind once more, he closed his eyes and thought about his blind brother. Losing one’s sight was a fate worse than death for some people, and it would spell the end for most creatures in the wild.

Long wondered how a snake would handle it.

Twelve-year-old Seh stood before the line of bandit recruits, a razor-sharp spear in one hand, a teacup in the other. He raised the cup to his lips, swallowing the wretched contents in one gulp. He gagged briefly, but managed to keep the medicine down.

One of the recruits scoffed. “What are you going to teach us, young sifu? How to distract an opponent by puking on him?”

A few of the recruits chuckled, and Seh frowned. It was like this with every new group. This particular bunch consisted of fifteen men between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. He was going to have to earn their respect, and that usually meant confrontation. His vision was far from functional, but he could now see shadows and had learned to identify individuals by the unique amounts of positive or negative energy they generated. The joker stood in the center of the line, radiating negative energy like a furnace.

One of the recruits spoke up in Seh’s defense. “Give our young instructor some respect, gentlemen. He is blind, and he drinks powdered dragon bone in an attempt to regain his sight. Have you ever tried it? It is horrible.”

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