Chapter 14: All Hail Lord Mingchi!

Boquin was in Pik's capital of Kambaland, headed with the crowds toward Lord Mingchi's estate. He was like a shadow, slithering past people at such speeds no one had any chance to react if he bumped into them.

Suddenly, his communication device vibrated in his pocket.

Picking up the rectangular device, he slipped it beneath his hood and to his ear.

'Bo. Just checking in. How are you holding up? Almost at the estate?'

'Everything's okay. Almost there.'

There was a pause at the other end of the line. When Gan spoke again, his voice had an edge of steel. 'This isn't just another mission, Boquin. It's a big one. If we're successful, it may change everything for us.'

Boquin acknowledged the weight of Gan's words with a nod, even though his mentor couldn't see him. 'I understand. Tell me again why Gajan couldn't just do this on his own? Isn't he stationed inside anyway? He can slide this letter under Mingchi's door whenever he wants.'

'We can't risk compromising Gajan as one of the estate Kuishi. Under no circumstances can he be linked back to the Yang, his position is far too precious. That's why it's gotta be you. No one else can make it inside.'

'Yeah, but why now? His entire estate is locked down. Any other day would've been easier.'

'They brushed off our last two letters as pranks, Bo. But imagine this: we interrupt his coronation speech, slip the letter right into his hands, and snatch the audience's attention for just a moment. The entire district will be buzzing about the mysterious figure who disrupted Mingchi's flowering and then vanished into thin air. After that, let's see the royal runt try to ignore our message. And oh, when you meet Gajan, give the lad a bit of reassurance. He's still finding his feet in all this.'

'Of course, Gan. I'll get it done.'

'You've come a long way, Bo. Breaking into the estate is no walk in the North, but I know you can do this.'

Gan's faith in him swelled like a beacon of warmth. He was more than his superior - he was a mentor, a guide, and a paternal figure in his life where he lacked a biological one.

'Thank you, Gan. I won't let us down.'

'I know you won't. Remember, Bo. You're never alone. Even inside that estate, Gajan will do everything he can to help. Our brothers and sisters will be in the audience looking out for you. I'll let you go now, son. Good luck.'

As the call ended with a soft buzz, Boquin felt a surge of determination. He was prepared for whatever lay ahead. He was ready to deliver the letter to Mingchi.

Drums rolled, and notes drifting from flutes danced through the air. Signature musical styles of East Kowloon, a region steeped in tradition and history, resonated around the streets of Mingchi's ancestral home. His square-shaped estate spanned from level fifty to sixty-five atop a groundscraper dedicated to Pik nobles.

The nostalgia-inducing melodies of Eastern Beauty, Dong's Honeyed Prophecy and The Lord's Rebirth flowed through the air, a symphony of Eastern folk songs that tugged at the heartstrings. This coronation seemed to have breathed new life into the Easterners, something Boquin thought had been drained by the famine over the past two annui-cycles.

Between the fortress-like estate and the surrounding groundscrapers was a dizzying large gap, plunging a full hundred metres down to the teeming streets below. None of the groundscrapers physically connected to the estate except for thick plumbing pipes.

Standing on the sixtieth floor, Mingchi had already started his address. Thousands of his citizens gathered on every level of the surrounding groundscrapers. They sat with their legs dangling over the edge of the upper open-air levels of these buildings, taking in an unobstructed view of the entire estate. Others stood shoulder to shoulder, arms linked in a tight-knit display of unity. Faces craned upwards, eager to catch a glimpse of their new leader standing on the estate balcony. Bellies rumbled but they all remained steadfast, listening to his words for the food that would come after.

Boquin was currently on the forty-fifth floor of one these surrounding groundscrapers, looking up through a window at the crowds from the lower vantage point. He couldn't see Pik's young new Lord as he was giving his speech on the other side of the estate.

As Boquin stared out into the world, crowds moved behind him in a blur, everyone rushing to make it to the upper floors for a better view. The dim glow coming through the window accentuated his dark features. His figure was draped in black clothing that blended seamlessly into the dark corner he found himself in. Boquin's piercing eyes took in one last look of the crowds over his shoulder before he pushed the window out, its hinges creaking as it swing upward, carefully climbing through it.

He found his footing on a large, sewage pipe that stretched across the ten-metre chasm all the way to the estate. Old and brown with aged rust, the thick pipe was strewn with debris from above. Beyond it, the estate's imposing structure loomed large.

A blue, square construction tarp was pinned just above the junction, on the grey stone wall of the Lord Mingchi's estate.

Behind that should be my way inside. You better have done your part, Gajan!

With his heart pounding in his chest, Boquin carefully inched along the sewage pipe. Mingchi's voice echoed from above, filling the air and bouncing off the towering groundscrapers that encircled the estate.

Reaching the end of his precarious path, Boquin lifted the tarp and saw a narrow but deep crack in the wall going right through to the other side. It was barely a palm and a half wide, and about as tall as Boquin himself, which wasn't much as Easterners were known for their shorter statures. He peered through it, seeing only darkness on the other side.

'Hey, Gajan?' Boquin called out through the crack. 'Are you there?'

There was no response. Damn it, he should be waiting for me. And this crack, does he think I have the waist of some skinny, little schoolgirl?

Boquin took a deep breath and slipped behind the tarp, sucking in his stomach and chest as far as they would go. He turned sideways and slid his left shoulder and arm through the opening.

I hate travelling through walls all the time. Boquin turned his head outwards, preferring a view of his escape route rather than the forbidding darkness within. He managed to fit his left leg in, shoving it through the gap and scraping his thigh painfully as he inched forward. Suddenly, dust from crack tickled his nose, triggering a sudden cough that forced out the breath he had been holding. His stomach expanded instantly, his chest erupting in pain, and he found himself wedged tight half-way through the crack.

'Light, this is embarrassing.'

Using his right leg for leverage and his left for propulsion, he tried to jostle himself free, but to no avail. At least he wasn't claustrophobic. That would have made the situation far worse.

Out of nowhere, a chuckle emanated from the shadows beyond the wall. Someone was in the room. Boquin's heart pounded in his chest as he stilled his body, his head still locked facing the outside.

His alarm intensified when a solid grip enclosed his left wrist, the unexpected contact sending jolts of terror through his body. Instinctively, Boquin fought back, flailing his arms in an attempt to shake off the hold. He managed to free himself of the grip and reached out to grab the person in an attempt to subdue them somehow.

'Psst, calm down! It's me, Gajan! I'm trying to pull you through! I bloody knew I should've made the gap wider. I thought the other girl was going to deliver the message, not you!'

A wave of relief washed over Boquin. 'Oh, thank the Light. Quick, pull my arm while I try to push from my side! I can hardly breathe!'

Gajan's hands closed around Boquin's wrist once more. As Gajan heaved, Boquin pushed, leveraging the force of his legs to dislodge himself. Pain radiated through his ribs, and his arm felt like it was going to pop out of its socket. He bit back a cry, teeth clenching, muscles straining, until, suddenly, he burst free. The momentum sent both men tumbling onto the cold stone floor, a cloud of dust billowing up around them in the dim blue light that filtered through the tarp.

'Are you fucking stupid?!' Boquin groused as he stood up, a fiery throb pulsing through his torso. 'Even Liqui would have struggled to get through … that! The crack of my ass is wider!' He looked back at the gap, astonished that he'd even managed to get through.

'I'm sorry!' Gajan cried out as he sat on the ground rubbing his elbow. 'I just couldn't risk someone walking into the cellar and noticing my work. I've already raised a few eyebrows with my frequent visits down here. Maybe if I used a sharper chisel …'

Boquin's anger faded hearing Gajan's reasoning. Recalling Gan's request to look out for Gajan, he started to feel a little bad for lashing out at the fresh Yang recruit.

With a sigh, Boquin lent a hand to Gajan. 'I supposed the important thing is that you managed to do it at all.'

Gajan nodded briskly and took the hand, rising to his feet. His gaze now held a glimmer of curiosity. 'Why couldn't I have delivered the message myself? After the coronation, I mean.'

'Gan thinks it has to be done during the coronation. To ensure it's actually read. He also doesn't want you risking your position here in the estate.' As he spoke, Boquin's hands were patting off the lingering dust from Gajan's shoulders and arms. 'What's the situation?'

'It's surprisingly quiet upstairs,' he replied. 'Most of his men are on the streets, prepped for the food distribution. You should be able to get close to Mingchi undetected. But remember, the balcony he's on is off-limits to everyone, even the Kuishi, so it's going to take some guile on your part to get up there.'

'Thanks for the help, Gajan. Now strip and wait here. I'll return here and escape through the crack if things go smoothly. If they don't, grab your spare clothes and disappear. I'll do the same.'

'But … I didn't pack any spare clothes,' Gajan admitted sheepishly.

'Then it looks like you might have to run home in your underwear,' Boquin quipped. 'Hurry, brother. Hand me your uniform, we don't have much time.'

Gajan swiftly undressed, handing Boquin his shirt, trousers, and coat. The uniform wasn't the standard Kuishi attire Boquin was used to seeing on the streets. It was a ceremonial uniform, reserved for special occasions. A reminder of the time when grand ceremonies, festivals, and street carnivals weren't as rare as they were during the current famine. It was a tad ostentatious for his taste, but if it served the purpose and got him closer to that coveted balcony, it was worth it.

'What's the fastest way to the balcony?' Boquin asked as he fit his arms into the coat, the ceremonial uniform fitting snugly around his form. He still wore his black shirt with the loose collar underneath, which he pulled up over his nose as his mask. It also had the letter in its pocket.

'As soon as you take the stairs out of the cellar, find the lift at the end of the hallway. It only goes up to the eighth floor. Once there, make a left and enter the first door you see. That should lead you to a lounge, and then to a spiral staircase. Climb until you come across a brown door. That'll be your gateway to the balcony.'

'Got it. How should I get back?'

'After you've handed Mingchi the letter, head to the opposite end of the balcony. You'll find a door there that leads to the fire exits. They're usually locked from the outside, but they're always accessible from the balconies. Go down as far as you can and walk straight until you find the cellar stars. Oh, and here,' Gajan removed his ceremonial beret, a black feather bobbing from its front. Boquin accepted it with a nod and adjusted it on his head. The beret was the final piece of the disguise. Now, Boquin was ready for whatever awaited him. Gajan stood awkwardly and let out a shiver, his bare body almost blending with the dark surroundings.

'Hey, you don't actually have to run home in your underwear. I was just joking earlier. If things go bad, or even if they don't, you can always throw on my clothes. They're a bit more suitable for this chilly room anyway.'

Gajan shrugged. 'I should be fine. But thanks.'

'I insist. We can just change clothes once I'm back.'

'All right,' Gajan conceded. 'If I get cold, I'll put them on. Good luck up there, Boquin.'

'Stay hidden,' Boquin instructed in a tone serious. 'May the Light guard and protect you.'

'May it guard and protect you too.'

Turning away from Gajan, Boquin moved towards the other end of the room. Barrels huddled in the gloom around him, their wooden bodies smelling of aged alcohol. Some barrels dripped from their tap, as if recently emptied.

Must be for the festivities.

As he reached the base of the ascending stairs, he cast one last look back at Gajan and exchanged a nod. Then, steadying his resolve, he began to climb.

The hallway at the top was a sea of muted tones, the carpet beneath his boots plush, and the walls plain and weathered. Boquin turned over Gajan's instructions in his mind, navigating through the maze-like passages until he came upon the lift. He pressed the call button, and it hummed into motion towards the lower floors.

Hopefully, the 'new guard' excuse works.

Ding.

The lift finally arrived, thankfully empty. He stepped in and punched the button for the highest accessible floor and it started moving. His fingers fiddled with the loose mask around his neck, the fabric smooth and cool against his skin.

After the lift glided to a stop at the highest level, it slid open to reveal a lone guard on the other side. Boquin's heart stilled, but he schooled his features into an impassive facade, avoiding eye contact. From the edge of his vision, he could make out the distinctive feathered beret atop the guard's head. Boquin moved out of the lift, his movements unhurried, and as the other guard stepped in, the doors slid closed, swallowing the tension within.

His heart pounded a steady rhythm against his ribs as he moved away from the lift, the encounter with the guard replaying in his mind.

I'm okay, he reassured himself. I've broken into tighter places.

Recalling the next set of instructions from Gajan, Boquin came upon the first door on his right, its stained-opaque glass rattling slightly in its weathered wooden frame from the commotion inside.

Pop —

'Aye! There we go!'

The effervescent pop of a bottle of Shangpinchou punctuated the muted hum of voices inside, which rose in a chorus of cheers and applause. Mingchi's speech resonated through the live broadcast of the Eastern Times, the national news network of Pik. Music also wafted through the gap underneath the door, hinting at the private party on the other side.

Through the frosted glass, Boquin could make out the silhouettes of no more than half a dozen guards huddled around a lounging area on the left. A small bar occupied the right side of the room, its counter gleaming under the warm glow of the lights. He needed to get through this room.

With a deep, steadying breath, Boquin pushed open the door and stepped into the room, his shoulders back and his head high. He immediately noticed a single closed door at the other side of the lounge. That must be where the stairs to the balcony is.

Boquin walked behind the polished tabletop, passing the grand shelves stacked with expensive spirits and other alcoholic beverages as he walked towards the door.

Suddenly, an intrusive voice pierced the buoyant hum of conversations. A guard from the lounge had noticed him, his words somewhat slurred by the Shangpinchou. 'Hey brother, where're you goin'?'

'Just to the door,' Boquin replied, careful to keep his face away from the curious Kuishi.

But the guard was persistent and a little tipsy. 'But them's the stairs to the balcony. We're not supposed to go up there until Lord Mingchi gets back! Come here, share a drink with us.'

'That's okay. If I'm not allowed to go up, I'll just leave for now. Thanks for sparing me from embarrassment in front of the Lord.'

'You sure you don't want the Shangpinchou? We've been saving this up for a long-ass time, man! We got bottles to go around!'

With every invite, Boquin felt the threads of his disguise straining, the unwanted attention threatening to unravel his covert mission.

'Yeah, come here!' called out a second Kuishi. 'We're gonna start playing gokm very soon. Everyone's coming up. It'll be a big game!'

A third voice called out too, waving Boquin to join them. Today is the wrong day for the Kuishi to become so inviting.

'I'm good, thank you. The Lord gave me a few tasks to do, so I aim to stay sober a while longer.'

Remaining silent, Boquin retreated towards the entrance with a deliberate slowness to detract suspicion. As he opened the door, the Kuishi turned back to their conversations, no longer focused on him.

Seizing the moment, he let the door creak shut to imply his departure, and then in one swift motion, he slid backwards and ducked behind the counter.

As Boquin crouched low, watching the guards intently, jovial conversations and laughter resumed with a toast and the clatter of glasses. He slowly crept to the other side of the counter, the door leading to the balcony stairs just a few metres ahead. But it was in the line of sight of the celebrating Kuishi. He needed a distraction that would pull their focus away from his path.

Suddenly, fortune intervened in the form of the voice of a guard from the lounge. 'Listen to this part of the speech, everyone. It's my favourite bit!'

'And how long must the East suffer from the prejudice of the rest of the world? When we travel to the West, to the core, the North, they laugh and ridicule us! They call us lazy, degenerate criminals; we have been dehumanised with the title of dongfa'shu for hundreds of years!'

The broadcast volume was turned up, and all conversations stopped as they tuned in to the speech. This was it; the distraction Boquin had been seeking.

Like a shadow skittering along the edge of someone's vision, crouched and nimble, Boquin moved towards the door. He turned the knob, easing it open with a soft sound.

Squeeak, krthump.

A rush of cool, stale air greeted him in the stairwell. With a sigh, Boquin began the steep climb up the spiral staircase, winding upwards into uncertain darkness. But somewhere above would be a brown door. And on the other side of that was Mingchi, who had the attention of everyone in Pik. And his speech could end any moment.

Time was his enemy now, chasing at his heels like a relentless hound. Boquin launched himself up the stairs faster. His mission would be for nought if Mingchi moved back inside his estate.

The brown door. It was a brown door he was seeking. Just one door.

Damn Gan and his dramatic ideas! Gajan could have just given him this lousy letter any other time!

Boquin recalled how famously reclusive Mingchi was, tracing the rise of the elusive young Lord after the mysterious passing of Lord Gaochi, the former lord of Pik. Though young, Mingchi had vaulted himself into the heart of danger when he immediately declared war against the drug triads of the East, thought to be one of the forces holding Pik down. It was a bold move that immediately earned him a 5,000,000 Hong bounty from Pik's underworld. To some, he seemed a tyrant in the making, like his father before him. To others, he represented renewed hope for Pik.

Mingchi earned a lot of respect from me when he declared war against Pik's scum. If he sees reason with this letter, he'll be an unshakeable ally to our cause.

As Boquin drew nearer to the top, Mingchi's powerful resounded down the staircase.

'Pik will be a beautiful state, worthy of the respect of even the Northern rulers. Help me wash out the filth that covers our streets, help me restore Dong's name in the minds and hearts of our children once more, and I will be the ruler my father never was! A ruler Pik deserves!'

A pang of regret filled Boquin. He wished he could drink in every word of the speech, absorb Mingchi's vision of transforming Pik. He yearned to understand how the young lord planned to eradicate the deep-rooted issues that plagued the East. Corruption, disease, poverty, societal moral laxity, everything Boquin thought wrong with his home.

Boquin had reluctantly accepted that he might never see the East rise from its ruins. He knew the odds of achieving the Yang dream - living on the surface under God's Light - were slim, at least within his lifetime. Yet, Mingchi's impassioned speech rekindled a spark of hope within him. Perhaps he could yet see Pik transform into something better than the world he was born into.

Boquin stopped, huffing and puffing, in front of the brown door. Drawing a deep breath, he adjusted his mask, pulling it up to its rightful place. His hand, steady despite the nerves, clasped the doorknob and he turned it.

It opened, and harsh light from the outside forced him to squint. Bright lights and lamps were dotted around the banister of the balcony. He pulled the beret down to shade his eyes. He was now on the balcony, but not on the side Mingchi was.

He must be around the bend.

Boquin looked to his left, drawn towards the vertigo-inducing drop that extended to the ground levels - the daunting stretch he had scaled not long ago. Below and across the gap, crowds huddled together, their attention fixed on the distant figure of Mingchi high above them. Sitting on windowsills, on top of railings, some even perched on AC units jutting out of walls.

Suddenly, Boquin heard a surge of cheers rising from the crowd. Onlookers waved, their faces lit with excitement, clapping, whistling and cheering as they spotted Boquin. Maybe the crowds assumed he was someone else important, or the infectious spirit of the gathering had simply taken over, making any mild change in the atmosphere reason to whoop and cheer.

With purpose in his strides, Boquin navigated the length of the balcony and rounded the sharp corner. He could see Mingchi up ahead, enveloped in the adoration of the audience and passionately delivering his speech a mere ten metres away. There were two Kuishi on either side, standing and facing the same crowd Mingchi was addressing. The scene was one of rapt attention, with hundreds and hundreds of eyes intent on their young ruler. He reached into his Kuishi coat and got out the letter. Boquin's focus narrowed to a singular point: Mingchi.

The letter in his hand felt heavier than ever, but he moved swiftly, an ominous shadow against the light-drenched backdrop of the balcony.

The guard closest to Boquin, on Mingchi's left, was the first to notice him approaching. A flicker of confusion crossed the guard's face as Boquin did not slow down. Instinctively, the guard's hand moved to the pistol at his hip, while he raised his other arm to halt Boquin.

Despite the guard's shout and commanding gesture to stop, Boquin sped up to a run. As he reached arm's length, he snatched the guard's arm and yanked him forward, pivoting smoothly around his back. In an instant, Boquin was between the guard and Lord Mingchi.

Mingchi, startled mid-speech, turned just in time to see Boquin directly in front of him, wide-eyed with surprise.

Boquin deftly slipped the letter into Mingchi's hand, but the guard at Mingchi's right drew his sword and tried grabbing him. Boquin ducked under the other guard's arm, sidestepped around him, and sprinted towards the far end of the balcony.

Only someone with Boquin's agility could execute this delicate sequence of movements.

Gajan's information had been correct - there was indeed a fire exit there. Boquin could hear the two guards running after him. But then something unexpected - the voice of Mingchi calling them back.

It clicked for Boquin why delivering the letter during the coronation was clever. Mingchi was more concerned with maintaining the ceremony's decorum than pursuing a harmless letter's sender.

As he plunged through the emergency exit, Boquin felt a rush of adrenaline and relief flood through him - his mission was complete. Mingchi had the letter and would no doubt read it. And Light willing, the Pik Yangs might win a crucial ally. Boquin's heart thumped in sync with the pounding of his boots echoing down the barren staircase.

Back in the storage room, a slightly bemused Gajan, still in his underwear, sat atop a stool near the crack. He sprang to his feet at Boquin's entrance.

'Did you do it? Does he have the letter?'

'Yeah, told you. It wasn't too bad, and no one even tried to chase me. Was really expecting Mingchi to send the estate after me.' Boquin swiftly undid his coat and stepped out of the guard's uniform.

'Well, it's good he hasn't taken an official stance on the Yangs yet,' Gajan said. 'I'm sure he knew it was us the moment he saw the letter.' The young Yang initiate's eyes gleamed with something akin to hope.

A reflective silence enveloped the room as Boquin handed the uniform back. 'Maybe Gan was right,' he said. 'I think he'll give us a shot. The Southern Yangs have made a lot of progress toward swaying public opinion, so now it's our turn to do the same.'

Gajan's face split into a grin, 'This is so exciting! I haven't even been with you guys for too long and already I feel like I'm a part of an important turning point for the Eastern clusters. We'll be so much better than those Yangs in the southern districts. Since they carried out the bombings, they've forgotten diplomacy comes before violence.'

'For sure, Gajan. We can start to be an example for those heretics. That all being said, you did well here today, Gajan. Be proud of yourself. We may not be the largest of Yang clusters, but if we're made up of brave soldiers like you, then the Yaozhi Dynasty better watch out.' Boquin reached out and patted Gajan's shoulder.

'Thank you. Mingchi has it in him to understand our cause, I just know it.'

Gajan had a spark in his eye. Boquin could see his drive to fight in the tone of his voice. Was this the same spark Gan says he saw in me all those years ago?

'Will you be going back to Gan?' Gajan asked.

'Probably, but I —' Boquin's words were abruptly drowned out by a deafening roar from outside.

'What the hell is all that commotion?' Gajan's eyes were wide as he looked toward the cracked concrete wall separating them from the outside. They had just finished slipping back into their original attire.

A sense of foreboding gnawing at his gut, Boquin approached the crack and reached through to shift the tarp aside. Pressing his eye to the opening, he tried to discern the nature of the chaos above. All he could see was a blur of frantic activity on the upper balconies.

'Nothing good. I best get going,' Boquin said, still looking out the crack.

'Good idea, I should go up and join the guards. They might need help. I'll see you soon, Boquin.' Flashing a brief smile, Gajan took off, his boots pounding against the stairs in a hasty sprint.

The roaring continued, escalating in intensity. It was clear now that these were the voices of the crowds that had gathered to hear Mingchi's speech. But now, their cheers had morphed into screams … a chilling symphony of chaos and fear. Boquin hurried as he fit into the crack, immediately cursing himself for forgetting to ask Gajan to push him through. And just as before, he became stuck halfway, behind the blue-tinted shadows of the tarp. Using the arm on the outside, he waved the tarp aside once more and looked up at the surrounding groundscrapers to see what was happening more clearly.

Four bodies plummeted down to the ground from levels unseen above Boquin, their screams tearing through the thick, humid air like ragged cloth as they fell from the railing-less balconies of the surrounding groundscrapers. From above, people were stampeding in one direction. He could hear Mingchi shouting desperately for order.

'Everyone! Please, there is enough food for everyone present! Don't panic! Please!'

But his voice was a mere pinprick of light in a storm, drowned out in the furious current of anarchy and madness. Boquin now knew the stampeding chaos was due to the desperation of people trying to get the food and drinks Mingchi's guards started handing out. His good deed had taken a devastating turn.

Another body fell off a higher balcony, the body briefly zipping through Boquin's line of sight. Pure, unadulterated panic seized Boquin, and propelled him, writhing and twisting out the unforgiving grip of the crack. In a burst of frustration, he seized the tarp and yanked it down, ripping it from the wall. The air was filled with a terrifying crescendo of screams from above. Summoning all his strength, Boquin finally freed himself from the cold grip of the crack with scrapes that tore through his robe. He began to rush over the wide sewer pipe that connected the estate to the groundscraper opposite.

Suddenly from above, another body slammed into the rusted sewage pipe Boquin was balancing on, the metallic clank muffled by the sickening crunch of breaking bones. The pipe shuddered violently beneath his feet, causing his heart to leap into his throat. Boquin swayed his outstretched arms from side to side as he battled to remain balanced. The unfortunate soul, whose back was shattered on impact, began an agonisingly slow slide down the pipe before plummeting into the grim abyss of Pik's ground level. Not even a final scream left the mouth of the lifeless human-turned-ragdoll.

Not wasting a moment, Boquin picked up the pace, leapt over the grotesque dent left in the pipe and plunged back through the window of the massive groundscraper he had entered from earlier.

For now, he was safe. But even amidst his success, the morbid turn of the coronation lay heavy upon him. And beneath it all, the gnawing hunger in his stomach reminded him of the reality he lived in.

Pik was beyond salvation and Kowloon a sinking boat no amount of bailing could save. His previous optimism brought on by the young lord's speech, vibrant and resilient, now seemed as fragile as glass under the crushing weight of this reality.

The only truth was the Yang. And their truth was Dong's final revelation: God has abandoned Kowloon. Salvation lay in their exodus to the surface.