Malao told Fu about his numerous adventures. He told him about the bandits, who, like the Governor had mentioned, had huge amounts of gold. He also explained how he had helped Hok retrieve Grandmaster's body. They talked for hours about what they thought Seh and Hok might be doing and debated over where their oldest brother, Long, might have disappeared to.

After nearly a week, Fu began to share some of his adventures. He described in great detail his tiger-hook-sword battle with Tonglong and how he originally came to possess the dragon scrolls. He also talked about how he had become blood brothers with the young tiger that had helped him, Malao, and Hok escape Tonglong in the forest. Fu even told Malao about the villagers and how the Drunkard had been shot trying to rescue him from Ying's number three man, Captain Yue.

Still, Fu never wanted to talk about the Drunkard in depth, and he always changed the subject whenever Malao brought up the Monkey King. It seemed any kind of father talk was off-limits as far as Fu was concerned. Malao didn't push.

Malao noticed that if there was one topic that really seemed to get Fu talking, it was Ying. Malao and Fu spent hour after hour arguing about where they thought Ying might appear next. In the end, they agreed that it really didn't matter where Ying showed up. They were headed to Shaolin Temple together, and nothing was going to stop them.

Nearly ten days after they had left the village, Malao decided Fu was finally back to his old self. It was a mixed blessing.

“I am so hungry!” Fu said. “Could you please ask our tour guide to find us something to eat?”

“Quit your complaining, Pussycat,” Malao replied. “I'm sure they'll have plenty to eat at Shaolin.”

“Yeah, if we ever make it there,” Fu said. “Are you sure your friend knows where he's going? I don't see any sign of a temple. In fact, I haven't seen anything but trees and the back of your fuzzy head for days. We're not even on a trail. We're just following some one-eyed monkey through the forest. We should be there by now. The Governor said Shaolin was ten days away.”

“The Governor probably traveled on a road,” Malao said. “We've been walking through the forest.”

“Yeah, but the Governor probably stopped and rested for a reasonable period of time every night. We've been traveling almost nonstop the whole time. Maybe we should look for a road.”

“No,” Malao said. “Someone might see us and report us to Ying. This is the best way to travel.”

Fu shook his head. “I bet we're hopelessly lost. I bet—”

The white monkey suddenly stopped up ahead and stared back at Fu. It seemed to snicker.

Malao grinned. “Satisfied?”

“Satisfied with what?” Fu asked.

“Look.” Malao pointed through the trees. Ahead was a clearing that appeared to contain numerous stone structures. Each one was tall and skinny and pointed to the heavens like a finger.

Fu rushed forward and Malao followed. The clearing was enormous and filled with a sea of stone monuments, which ranged in size from Malao's height to the height of several men. Though he had never been there before, Malao knew exactly what he was looking at—Shaolin Temple's famous Pagoda Forest.

“We made it!” Fu said.

Malao smiled. He looked back at the white monkey, which sat high atop a large maple at the edge of the tree line. The monkey made a quick motion like it was blowing Malao a kiss, then it disappeared into the forest. Malao sighed and looked at Fu.

Fu smirked. “Wasn't that precious.”

Malao punched Fu in the arm.

Fu laughed. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go meet our new brothers! I wonder what they're having for dinner?”

Malao scratched his head. “Hey, do you mind if I do something first? It should only take a few moments.”

“What could be more important than dinner?”

“I'd like to find the small pagoda built for the boy who … you know …”

Fu raised his eyebrows. “The boy who fell into the soup?”

Malao nodded.

“You're terrible, Malao. Haven't you joked enough about that?”

“No, no,” Malao said. “This is no joke. Honest. I want to pay my respects. Will you help me find it?”

Fu groaned. “I guess so. Why don't we—” Fu suddenly stopped talking. He stood perfectly still and pointed through the Pagoda Forest.

Malao followed Fu's finger and saw tendrils of smoke rising into the sky. He strained his eyes and began to make out a series of rooftops behind a high wall. One or two looked charred and broken.

“A big fire?” Malao said.

“Shhh!” Fu whispered. “More like an attack, I think. Just like Cangzhen.”




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