Chapter 18: The Lost Trilogy

'You sure you two don't want any food?' Keung asked, slurping up a noodle as he eyed the two Tai Li operatives, Han and Jin. They sat across the table, watching him and Cheng eat in the noise and bustle of the cafe's outdoor seating.

'I'm not a fan of Southern food,' Jin said. 'Not spicy enough for my taste.'

Perched on the 50th floor of a groundscraper in Ho Man Ting City, their table was uncomfortably close to a rickety railing that leaned over the edge, worn down by years of passersby leaning against it.

'You're right, Jin. Their dishes are mild,' Cheng added. 'It's because the South was locked out of the major spice routes during the Jingdi era. Even when they were finally allowed into the Central trade routes, it seems those flavours never fully integrated into their cuisine.'

Jin raised an eyebrow at Cheng. 'Regardless,' he shrugged. 'We're accustomed to working on an empty stomach. Helps with focus, like taking an exam with a full bladder. We regulate our energy with a Jules Pill.'

Han reached into his pocket and produced a small white capsule for the Kingmakers to see before popping it into his mouth and washing it down with a sip of water.

'Impressive,' Keung remarked.

'Not really. No offence,' Cheng said, nodding towards the Tai Li. 'They're still eating, just all at once. But it comes with a nasty trade-off: a gut migraine, forty-five minutes of ten-out-of-ten pain. Forty-five?' Cheng looked at Han. 'That's how long it lasts, right?'

'We prefer to get it over before the assignment starts,' Han murmured with a nod as Jin dropped the pill into his mouth and raised his cup for a sip.

'Well, it makes sense why we don't take them, if the pain's that bad,' Keung observed.

Jin's hand shot to his mouth as he almost spat his water out. With a final gulp, he looked at Keung. 'Was a tummy ache really all that convinced you this pill wasn't worth it?'

Keung looked taken aback. 'What?' he mouthed.

'I'm messing around, King,' Jin leaned on the armrest of his seat. 'To be honest, it was almost a deal-breaker for me too. The pain fucking sucks —' Jin doubled over, clutching his stomach.

He raised a finger and breathed in. 'It sucks,' he finished with an exhale. Slowly, he eased back into his chair and tried to stretch his body straight.

'We used to use them too,' Cheng added. 'That was until a couple of centuries ago, when a Kingmaker accidentally swallowed a whole canister's worth of Jules Pills. It did … painful things to his organs. Had to be put down. We stopped the practice soon after but found out they had potential as an effective tool for interrogation.'

Keung noticed that Han remained impassive, despite having taken the pill earlier. 'You seem to handle it well. How come?'

'I've been taking it longer than anyone in my unit,' Han replied.

'Show … off … ' Jin grunted.

Keung took in the vibrant cityscape of Ho Man Ting, alive with the bustling energy of its post-dimming nightlife. South Kowloon truly never slept. The dimmed lanterns were overwhelmed by illuminated walkways while groundscrapers flashed with screens across their faces. Towering glass plazas shimmered and buzzed with energy inside their enclosed streets, creating a kaleidoscope of colour and movement as Ho Man Ting thrived through its perpetual night-shift.

Loud chants broadcasted from daoyinbo's, temples of Dongism dedicated to the Light, continued to echo through the air. Unlike the rest of Kowloon, where these sacred sounds fell silent after dark, the South remained alive with their rhythmic invocations, a constant reminder of their strong faith that pulsed through its restless nights.

Han's gaze flickered over Keung and Cheng's Kingmaker uniform, a hint of disapproval in his eyes.

'You keep staring at our coats, Han,' Cheng observed.

'I'm just surprised there's no flexibility in the Kingmaker dress code,' Han replied. 'That flappy skirt might be a disservice down here.' He adjusted the collar of his plain office attire. Jin wore the same, his neatly trimmed moustache and long hair the only details setting him apart from his co-captain.

'We aren't trained to cater to unrealistic fears,' Cheng responded calmly. 'When you're a King, you learn that the worst people can do to you is stare. But I understand that's not true for all, I get why others might choose to blend in.'

Jin let out a low whistle. 'You Kingmakers are somethin' else, huh?'

Han placed his palms on the table. 'Yezu Christ, these Tien Tao aren't known for their tardiness, are they?'

The two Tai Li glanced around, prompting Keung to look at his holocommunicator. He isn't wrong - they were meant to be here fifteen minutes ago.

Behind them, the café buzzed with energy, yet many eyes were openly fixed on their table. Han was right about one thing. The Tai Li blended into the crowd, but Keung and Cheng stood out in their dark Kingmaker trench coats, the golden accents and stripes gleaming even brighter in the South. Patrons paused when they realised who they were passing. For some, it was their first time seeing Kingmakers since the District Rebellions, and for those poor old souls, fear and paranoia struck deep.

Kingmakers didn't represent the brute militant; they embodied the cunning officer leading from behind, armed with a charming smile and a suspicious mastery of even the most obscure Southern Yue accents. Their intentions were always deadlier than what they presented themselves as, and that alone kept most at bay.

'So, what ranks are our two Rioter contacts, sir?' Han asked Keung.

'Nwin Twan is Senior Staff. Ng Chan is Cavalry Guard,' Keung continued.

'Sheesh,' Jin half-groaned from his reclined position on the chair. 'Staff Rioters are fucking scary.'

'They're sending in the big dogs,' Jin slowly sat up. 'For raiding an empty base? Something's up. Cavalry Guards aren't deployed unless it's wartime'

'You're right …' Cheng noted as he tapped his chin. 'They're supposed to be in perpetual training until then. Maybe Mr Enji is being generous …'

'Or there's a message in there somewhere. They're already in war, and we don't know it.' Han finished his sentence.

'I wouldn't go that far.' Keung began, but his words trailed off as the atmosphere in the café shifted. Conversations hushed, and all eyes turned towards the staircase leading up to the outdoor area. Keung's table clocked two Rioters ascending the steps - their contacts have finally arrived. Clad in their infamous face visor helmets and black plate armour, topped with massive shields strapped to their backs, they strutted past patrons and approached the table.

All four men stood up, yet the Rioters walked past the Tai Li captains and extended their hands to Keung and Cheng alone.

'Light Illumine,' the Rioters greeted.

'Light Illumine,' Keung replied with a slight nod, along with Cheng. I must remember to keep up with the Southern customs. They follow Dongism different to us.

'These are the two Tai Li who will be joining us,' Keung gestured towards Han and Jin. The Rioters' faces remained expressionless beneath their face-shields as they eyed Han and Jin. Finally, they extended their hands. The Tai Li let their hands hover for a moment before finally greeting them back, their expressions guarded.

'Light Illumine.'

'Light Illumine.'

****

Tao took in the intricate defences of Fort Ho Man Ting. 'Fascinating. Your outer defences might seem excessive now, but during the District Rebellions, they would've been just what was needed.'

He recalled the details he'd noticed on entering the fort with Yutai. 'A detachable drawbridge, its chasm threatening instant death to invaders. And those holes above the gates …' he continued. 'Perfect for cracking skulls as your enemies scramble to enter the fort. The stairwells are narrow, and the steps slope down at a dangerous decline. I almost slipped on the way up. Pouring lubricant down them could make it impossible for a battalion to secure the watch towers. And I'm not forgetting the maze-like path to the courtyard, so many places for deadly southern traps … truly a masterclass in defensive strategy.'

Hung glanced briefly at Yutai. 'Your companion has an eye for detail. Have you always been fascinated by this time in our history, Praefect Tao?'

'In my line of work, understanding the intricacies of war is essential. It's no different with Yutai, right?'

'Huh? Oh yes. I, uh … well, obviously … saw all that too. This fort's nice.'

Well over six feet tall with broad shoulders, Hung was a groundscraper of a man, like many of his fellow Rioters. Southerners had distinctive physical traits that set them apart from the average Kowlooni: their characteristic southern tan and notably tall stature. Ushi, Tao's best friend and a Southerner, was among the tallest in the tower. Unlike other elite forces, whose height varied, the Tien Tao were exceptionally rigid with this standard.

Although Hung was not a Southerner by blood and lacked their characteristic nut-brown skin, he looked like them in every other way.

The Rioter uniform, consisting of layers of black plates, complemented by a helmet with a retractable face shield, gave them an intimidating presence. In the heat of riots, they brandished transparent, extendable shields and electric batons - tools that could be as lethal or as benign as the situation demanded.

Inside the fort, the Rioters just wore their black plate armour. Their flexibility ensured unhindered movement, but their weight demanded strength. As a result, Rioters like Hung had a distinct, muscular build, further emphasised by their signature, buzzed haircuts. This wasn't a requirement for the ordinary law-enforcing gangsters of Ho Man Ting, the Nanfang.

The three walked through an open doorway and stepped into the central outdoor courtyard,where the noise level suddenly turned quiet. An immaculate bed of pebbles and cobblestone pathways framed a fountain, whose gentle splashing was the only sound breaking the stillness. Amidst the darkness of the dimmed lanterns, the twilight shrouding this beautiful bubble of an atmosphere only added to its tranquillity.

'This courtyard was once a temple dedicated to Dong,' Hung began. 'Over time, the fort's religious significance faded, but this courtyard remains a place of solace and prayer for us. Many Rioters here still feel Dong's watchful presence.'

A sense of peace washed over Tao in the courtyard. Even before Hung mentioned its origins as a place of spirituality, he could feel his soul connect with the space. 'Ho Man Ting is the birthplace Dongism,' Tao said aloud. 'Sites of worship here hold far more power than anywhere else in Kowloon.'

Hung continued talking about the courtyard as the three strolled through it. 'That's true. The spiritual significance of the South makes places like these even more Holy.'

Tao felt Yutai tap on his shoulder. Glancing back, Yutai leaned in over his shoulder and whispered, 'Did you forget we're not actually here for the tour? You've been too focused on the fort! I haven't even managed to plant a single tap!'

'I thought my job was to keep Hung distracted!' Tao whispered back. 'I've been doing just that! Figure something out!'

When Hung flicked his gaze to the two whispering Kingmakers, Yutai immediately cocked his head back and pulled a smile.

'Everything okay?' Hung subtly raised a brow.

'Sorry, I was just telling Tao how much I want to see the famous Tien Tao dojos.'

Tao schooled his face to remain impassive and nodded.

'The dojos are locked at this hour, so I'll need to grab the keys from my dormitory. Follow me through here,' Hung changed course and veered right, approaching an open door back into the fort.

Tao and Yutai walked side by side, with Hung leading the way. Every so often, Yutai would try to engage Hung in light banter, attempting to rekindle the camaraderie of their youth. But all he received were curt responses and a distant demeanour. It was painfully obvious to Tao that whatever childhood bond Yutai shared with Hung had frayed over the years. He just hoped Yutai realised that too.

****

An uneasy truce bound the three factions - the Kingmakers, the Tai Li, and the Tien Tao Rioters - as they navigated the bustling Southern Kowloon streets towards the supposed abandoned Yang base.

Cheng walked amidst the group, his gaze sharp, senses alert. When he'd first studied the mission brief, it struck him as odd that such high-ranking Rioters were assigned to a low-risk operation. The thought had lingered at the back of his mind, but after Jin mentioned that Rioter Cavalry were never found outside their fort unless at war, it began to trouble him deeply.

So, what are they doing here with us?

'I'm glad you guys chose a rendezvous point so close to the mission site,' Keung said to the two Rioters leading. 'The food was great.'

Silence.

Keung exchanged a glance with Cheng, who gave him an almost imperceptible shrug. Real friendly, these guys.

'How did you come to uncover this base?' Cheng probed, his tone more assertive than Keung's.

One of the Rioters finally responded, his voice flat and emotionless. 'Shortly after Jian's execution, we received word tenants in a unit near Ho Man Ting City were hurriedly moving out, carrying loads of computers and tech. We investigated the unit but soon realised the place was booby-trapped to hell. That's how we knew it's Yang. Mr Enji sought Kingmaker assistance to clear out the base for evidence, and so here we are.'

Cheng quietly nodded to himself.

Ho Man Ting City, the district's capital, unfolded before them - a cityscape of foreign sights and sounds. Kowloonis referred it to as 'The City of a Million Lanterns,' it was clear they lived up to that title. They hung in an abundance over their heads in every street and walkway, albeit dimmed due to the late-cycle. Keung wished to see them in all their glory.

Huge, square, LED screens showcased advertisements for local South Kowlooni products rather than the big ten brands of North Kowloon. Groundscrapers towered higher than anywhere else, many soaring beyond 120 floors. Keung recalled Denzhen explaining why Southerners built such tall structures, whereas everywhere else, the average building was between seventy to ninety storeys. 'Southerners say they have a spiritual impulse that no one else has; the impulse to get as close to the surface as possible.'

Narrow passages forced the group into single file, ducking under low archways and dodging loose ductwork. Cheng narrowly avoided a sparking wire, its intermittent flashes reflecting off the damp walls. Makeshift walkways bridged collapsed sections of the floor, creaking under their weight. Despite the obstacles, Southern foot traffic flowed steadily in front and behind them, the locals navigating the urban landscape with familiarity.

The air was thick with the mingled scents of incense, sizzling street food, and machine lubricant. Wild Southern mutts wove through the crowds and lounged in packs in shadowy corners, their tails swishing to ward off fleas. For Keung and his team of Central Kowlooni's, these creatures were as foreign as the people walking past them.

Above the ambient noise, the ever-present echoes of distant Daoyinbos - the temples of Dongism - broadcast ceaseless chants from the Book of Lumen. The sacred hymns added an otherworldly aura to the foreign Southern lands. This effect was intensified by the prayers being chanted in Gouyue, or Old Southern Yue - an extinct dialect of Southern Yue that Dong spoke, now an inherently holy dialect because of that association. Keung couldn't understand a single word.

****

The next room Tao and Yutai entered felt like a museum. It was a large, square space with a central wall dividing it into two sections. The white walls were lined with glass displays, each showcasing various artefacts illuminated by cool lights.

'We call this room Zhongguo,' Hung said as Tao examined each of the displays. 'Care to guess why?'

Yutai scratched his head. But Tao was very familiar with the name.

'I take it's because this room is the closest we'll ever get to the ancient Middle Kingdom?' Tao replied, leaning over one of the displays. 'I'm gonna go on a limb and guess whatever I'm staring at is what Dong called a "mobile phone." A communication device used by the surface civilisations.'

The object looked to be a sleek and black rectangular device with no buttons. It's surface looked cracked and fractured, as if damaged from a fall.

'So, what's Zhongguo mean?' Yutai asked. 'It sounds familiar, as if I heard it somewhere recently.'

Tao was staring at the display case, hardly able to tear his gaze off it. 'Probably because the Ibilis mentioned the name during his speech. Zhongguo was our sister civilisation on the surface. It's the kingdom we were a part of before The Great Sinking and the first place Dong stepped foot in during his pilgrimage. They say the Yu Tower is styled after what a typical building in Zhongguo looked like, long ago.'

'That's true. You have a strong fascination with these things, eh Praefect? Far stronger than I've seen most foreigners have.'

'It's my religion too, Hung. I love my religion as much as you do.'

Hung nodded his head and raised a finger, as if remembering something. 'I need to show you something you'll want to see. Don't move an inch, I'll be back in a second.'

Hung hurried out of the exhibition room, leaving the two Kingmakers alone.

'Should I leave now to plant a tap?' Yutai asked Tao.

'No, it'll be too risky. He may come back any moment. Best we just wait here.'

Yutai tapped his foot and whistled, looking at the various artefacts around the room as Tao walked to another display case.

'You think we could take this fort if we wanted to?' Yutai asked.

Tao raised an eyebrow. Yutai and his wild hypotheses. 'No chance.'

Yutai pressed a hand against his chest to feign shock. 'My, your underestimations hurt!' He exclaimed in hushes. 'Come on! Why the hell not?'

'Because. If we could, we would've done it during the rebellions. Ho Man Ting is a strategic district in the heart of the South. It's cultural significance alone would have made it a priority, but could we capture it? Light knows we tried, brother.'

'Okay, I get that, but I recall from our classes that by the time we reached Ho Man Ting, our forces were disorganised and exhausted. But imagine if it wasn't: a small army of experienced Kingmakers armed with the latest tech, putting this fort to siege. Why the hell couldn't we do it?'

'Kingmakers aren't trained to storm fortresses. We're strategists, we guide the charge from behind. An army of Kingmakers is stupid. We were never meant to be an army.'

Yutai curled the corner of his lips. 'Alright then, picture this: Five experienced Kingmakers lead a military campaign to take Fort Ho Man Ting. Surrounding the fort are thirty Ji Sias, fifty Pak militiamen and sixty Kam Sham Black Jackets. A frontal assault, seven-cycles worth of upkeep. The fort gets adequate prep time, too.'

Tao pretended to ponder, tapping his chin. 'Depends on the Kingmakers leading. What rank are they? If they're Tribunes or higher, I've got to hand it to you, it might be a challenge for the Rioters. For the first few cycles. Even if we add a Legate, the fort would still just hold us off until we ran out of supplies.'

'Okay, final change to the conditions. Cheng, Shing, Ushi, you, and myself. With us, two-hundred gangsters ready to die at our command. Reckon we could pull it off?'

'You've just downgraded the legates to a bunch of praefecti!' Tao let out a laugh.

'But, to our credit,' Yutai interjected, 'If we weren't the most promising praefecti in the tower, General Denzhen would never have picked us for Keung's team.'

'Sure …' Tao said with an uncertain tone. 'Maybe if you threw in General Cao, give him a yapyan pill before the battle, play some DaoTaoFengi into his earpiece, then maybe all of us might reach that courtyard before we're all corpses on the floor.'

Yutai chuckled once again, shaking his head with a grin. 'Alright, you win.'

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention to Hung returning, holding a small card in his hand.

'Apologies, I just needed to get clearance. I'm going to show you an artefact that's usually off limits'

Tao raised an eyebrow. What could be so important about that one that it needs special clearance?

Hung led the pair to the back of the room, passing glass displays on either side. They stopped in front of a plain white wall, positioned between two display cases that were spaced further apart than the others. The wall itself was unremarkable, but there was an odd sense of emptiness, as if a painting should've hung there, or a third display case to fill the gap between the two.

Hung swiped the card against the blank, white wall and as if out of some West Kowlooni spy flick, a section of the wall grumbled down to reveal a small, square chamber beyond.

'We had to keep this particular artefact hidden from view. It would certainly give Warlord Xinjian a headache if we reminded our neighbours we have this. They all know we have it, but not where it is. We've held onto many of Dong's holy artefacts because Ho Man Ting was his home. That hasn't stopped the other districts from petitioning to have some for their own museums. But this one … we'd never consider giving it away.'

As the wall finally slid down, Hung stepped inside, gesturing to the two men to follow him. In the centre of this small room stood one final display case, similar to the others outside but longer. Tao's jaw dropped as he instantly recognised the object inside.

Resting sideways on two short stands was a gleaming, golden spear. This wasn't just some artefact from the surface like the others. In fact, it wasn't even from the surface.

'Anju's Spear,' Tao whispered. 'Un-be-liev-able.'

'That can't be …' Yutai stared at Tao in disbelief before snapping his gaze to the display.

'It is.' Hung said. 'This is the legendary spear Anju used to defend Dong, right up until his death. Anju was the first to recognise Dong's mission, the first to place his trust in his return from his divine pilgrimage. No one else believed a trip to the surface and back was possible.'

Tao slowly knelt down, feeling unworthy to be in its presence. His eyes were drawn to every tiny nick and scratch - imperfections from over 800 annui-cycles ago, and untouched by the ravages of time since then. The spear's tip gleamed with an ethereal light. It curved gently, while it's long handle, cracked but thick and ornate, bore inscriptions in an extinct southern script known as Gouyue, too intricate to decipher.

'While Dong was up on the surface,' Hung explained, 'Anju rallied believers of the Light to await his return. Despite harsh persecution, Anju's faith in his friend never wavered. He mastered the highest forms of swordsmanship with this spear, attaining legendary skill. And when Dong returned after four annui-cycles, against all odds, a sea of followers greeted him, all thanks to Anju's tireless devotion.'

Hung's voice softened, as if sharing a secret, and the two Kingmakers leaned closer. 'Anju wasn't just a disciple; he was Dong's shield, his protector. This very spear was wielded in defence of the faith against countless adversaries. The spear's most poignant tale, however, is from Dong's final hours.'

Tao hung on every word. The mystery of Dong's death was one of Kowloon's greatest unsolved riddles. The South had its own version of events, often clashing with the accepted history.

'Final hours?' Yutai said. 'I thought no one knew about his final hours.'

'Well, Dong was in his fifties,' Hung continued. 'He'd fallen from grace in the Yaozhi courts because of a second vision. This vision, whatever it was, didn't sit well with Emperor Hongwu - unlike his first vision thirty annui-cycles ago which motivated his mission to the surface and saw him welcomed into the Emperor's council. This time, Hongwu forbade Dong from canonising thew new vision into scripture.'

Tao kept quiet, but he was already familiar with this story. Dong's second vision is more a religious conspiracy theory than anything else, he thought. The legend of the lost trilogy.

Hung continued. 'Dong believed this second vision was more important than his first, original revelation. He defied the Emperor and chose to publish the new trilogy. In response, the Kingmakers enacted a Royal Regicide against our messenger and raided his family home. Anju was the final obstacle between them and Dong's family in the estate that cold morning. In the end, both Anju and Dong fell, side by side, betrayed by the Emperor.'

Yutai raised a brow. 'Regicided? By the Kingmakers? He wasn't even a Lord, your syntax doesn't even make sense,' he barely held back a scoff in disbelief. 'The academy taught us he passed onto the Light in both physical and spiritual forms - that's why his body was never found. But do you seriously believe the lost trilogy shit? Sounds like Yang propaganda!'

Hung's gaze remained fixed on the spear, his voice tinged with bitterness. 'Yang,' he sneered. 'Outside the South, our own history is rinsed and sanitised, altering tales that paint a sweet picture. Dong's relationship with Emperor Hongwu wasn't as harmonious as the books claim. Had the truth been told, Kowloon would have recognised that the Yaozhi Dynasty's Mandate of Heaven had already expired.'

'I have my doubts,' Yutai countered. 'Emperor Hongwu was a convert to Dongism himself. Why would he kill his own prophet?'

'The South sees Emperor Hongwu and his Zhaisheng differently than the rest of Kowloon,' Hung said. 'You see him as a great innovator, a prodigious Emperor for ushering a golden age. You must think we Southerners should revere him for transforming Kowloon's religious landscape in a single generation. But we have no illusions about why Hongwu did what he did. He didn't love Dong or his revelation - he just exploited him to secure his own legacy.'

Yutai's expression darkened as Hung continued, 'Hongwu's status as the greatest Kowlooni Emperor was cemented when he brought Dong into his court. Dong was his secret weapon, the reason for the golden age that followed. Together, they established the Mandate of Heaven, making the dynasty holy. It was a power play, not a sign of genuine faith. Hongwu famously exploited every aspect of the surface that Dong documented and brought back. In the end, Emperor Hongwu admired the stories of the Roman Emperor Constantine more than anything Dong had to offer. He was particularly interested in replicating Emperor Constantine's Christian legacy using Dongism. So, he pushed for radical cultural changes to create his personal Pax Romana: The Zhaisheng. He renamed the Kingmakers after Roman ranks, reshuffled structures to resemble the Roman imperial court, it all just became a source of obsession for him. I doubt Hongwu even bothered with his obligatory prayers. To the South, it's no surprise that he killed Dong.'

'I don't buy it,' Yutai said firmly. 'If Emperor Hongwu really did murder our prophet, it would be more known by now. Over six-hundred annui-cycles have passed! Thousands of historians and theologians all over Kowloon have dedicated their lives to studying Dong's last moments. Are they all part of a great conspiracy? Southerners don't love Dong more than we do, Hung! We value justice as much as anyone else.'

'Justice is a rare commodity in this world …' Hung whispered to himself.

'Don't feel too bad, Hung,' Tao's suddenly interjected through the tense air. 'Anju's daughter spent the remainder of her years tracking down those who had a hand in the regicide of Dong and her father. I know history paints her as a violent vigilante, but every person she deemed guilty eventually floated lifelessly down the Memorial Pipes. From the Lords in their meeting rooms to the grunts who just followed orders. She even assassinated the four Kingmakers who took part in the mission. That, to me, sounds like classic Kowlooni justice.'

Both Yutai and Hung frowned at Tao. 'I didn't expect you to know the end of that tale,' Hung said. 'But then again, you'd know she missed one crucial conspirator in Dong's murder, Emperor Hongwu himself. Now, his legacy stands as the greatest of any Kowlooni ruler.'

Tao's voice dropped to a menacing purr. 'Do you believe the Yaozhis still owe their blood to justice? For what their ancestors may have done to our prophet?'

Hung stared silently, a tumult of emotions swirling beneath the surface. But Tao didn't let the question drift away, not looking away until he got an answer.

'I fear I may break a few federal laws if I were to speak my mind on that. Whatever true justice looks like, I am confident Hongwu faced it after death. And I know the remaining Yaozhis will too once they stand before the Light.'

Tao leaned in, his voice low and challenging. 'And do you think the Yang are the Light's answer to justice, Hung?'

'I … don't know …'

Hung quickly shook off his hesitation and spoke quickly. 'Anju was native to the area we now know as Ho Man Ting. It's only fitting his blade finds its resting place here, hidden from prying eyes. Normally, I would never allow a Kingmaker of all people near it. I'm not even sure why I showed you. Thought you'd be different. Come on, let's grab the keys to the dojo from my dorm. It's getting late.'

Tao's eyes narrowed as they strode behind Hung out of the chamber. Their guide, much like the fort, held secrets of his own.