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trees. Malao leaped after it but fell heavily to the earth as a large net was cast over him. Several men held the ends of the net down, out of Malao's reach. Malao wriggled and clawed and kicked, but it was no use. He stopped struggling and stared up at his captors through the tightly woven holes in the net.
    The burly man walked away, only to return moments later carrying a huge pair of golden melon hammers. The large, round heads of the war hammers glistened at the end of metal handles, each as long as Malao's leg. The big man stared coldly at Malao as he raised his huge arms in preparation for a crushing blow.
    “That's very brave of you, Hung—killing a child with the aid of several others and a net,” a voice called out from the crowd. “I speak a little Cantonese myself, you know, and I recognize your name as Cantonese, just like the boy's. How strange. Cantonese names are so rare in this region. Stranger still is the significance of your name.
Hung
means ‘bear’ in Cantonese, and you really do remind me of a bear. A big, lazy panda bear. If you were a
real
man, you would dismiss your helpers and fight the boy alone, hand to hand.”
    Malao knew that voice. It belonged to his brother Seh!

O utside the Cangzhen perimeter wall, Commander Woo squinted in the late-morning sun and ran his fingers through a section of charred earth. He raised one hand to his nose, and his head recoiled from the smell. “Are you certain this mark was left by a ghost?” he asked the soldier beside him.
    “Yes, sir,” the soldier replied nervously. “I'm positive. I believe it is the same restless spirit we've felt watching us. It may also be the same one responsible for stealing the Grandmaster's body. Last night, four other soldiers and I saw the spirit soar from the burning rooftop right through the middle of the tree behind us. It touched down on top of the wall and paused before floating down somewhere beyond,which I believe is right where we're standing now. Flames followed it the whole way down. I think that's what burned the ground here. It must be a very powerful spirit to have fire flowing from it like that. I'm concerned, sir.”
    “Concerned about what?” Commander Woo asked.
    The soldier lowered his head and shuffled his feet. “The spirit promised to hunt me and the others down and devour our souls if we mentioned what we saw to anyone. It said it would go after our families, too—”
    “What's this nonsense about a spirit?” Ying suddenly appeared from around the front corner of the perimeter wall.
    Commander Woo jumped. “Sir!”
    “Don't you remember our little discussion earlier this morning, Commander?” Ying asked. “I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to hear any more talk of spirits. Now I find you out here,
still
discussing spirits. Why are you indulging the men with this nonsense? Ghosts do not exist.”
    Commander Woo cleared his throat and pointed to the ground. “But we have proof, sir.”
    “Step aside,” Ying said. He stuck his face near the burn mark. The grooves in his face deepened as he grimaced. “I know this smell. One of the young monks has made it a habit to skip as many bathing sessions as possible. His feet are particularly pungent.” Ying looked at the soldier. “Tell me what you saw last night. Or at least what you
thought
you saw.”
    The soldier cleared his throat. “Pardon me for saying this, sir, but I saw a spirit. I am certain of it. What I saw could not have possibly been a human, let alone a boy.”
    “Why do you say that?” Ying asked.
    “The spirit leaped all the way from the bathhouse roof, through the middle of that large tree, to the wall behind us. It landed perfectly in the center of the wall and paused for only the briefest of moments before floating down to the ground beyond. No human could do that.”
    “Do you think a monkey could do it?” Ying asked.
    “Well, I don't know …,” the soldier said, rubbing his chin. “I suppose. But monkeys