White Dragon clomped quietly up the stairs, followed by Trip. Across the horse’s back was a still-unconscious Wukong, tied in place to prevent him from slipping off.

“Will he be alright?” Trip asked, with furrowed brows and a slight frown.

“Physically, his abilities and rate of recovery are, I dare say, without equal. Within a reasonable scope of comparison, of course. Mentally and emotionally however, only time will tell. If I may, I would like to request that we spare some time to retrieve a valued... partner, as it were, of his. It might go a long way towards aiding his emotional and mental recovery.”

“Partner?”

“Perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it as a treasured item with varied and mysterious properties. It was originally intended for other purposes, but Wukong was the only one who would, or even could, think of using it as a weapon. Over time, it became much more than that. Somehow, he and the weapon developed a bond. That bond was so powerful that it helped him in more ways than simply functioning as a physical weapon.”

“Where is this partner of his?”

“My records indicate its last known position as being quite some distance away to the south-west of here, within another research facility quite similar to this one.”

“Very well. As the Crimson Army is rumoured to be somewhere in that general direction, we’ll be heading that way in any case.”

“Miss Tang, I would strongly urge you to first retrieve Wukong’s partner and allow him some time to recover, before pursuing Crimson Bull any further.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you.”

Walking through the dark metal corridors, they arrived at the metal door leading to the outside world.

“Miss Tang, allow me,” said White Dragon, as he moved towards the metal door. Raising his right hoof to a spot at the height of his chest, he pressed it to the door. A blue glow outlined the area where his hoof touched the door, then expanded outwards to the door frame. The door slowly opened, accompanied by the muted sounds of clanking and clicking, coming from the area around the door frame.

“After you, Miss Tang. Please proceed, I will catch up. First, I will need to adjust my dimensions in order to fit through this rather restrictive exit.”

Faint humming noises emanated from White Dragon’s horse body, as his neck and legs slowly became shorter.

Nodding her head, Trip wordlessly stepped forward through the open metal door into the cave. Facing the curtain of vines across the cave opening, she saw the patch of damp dirt on the floor, where she had washed the wound on her cheek. Amongst the shadows and darkness within the cave, the damp spot stood out, clearly lit by the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the curtain of vines.

Being reminded of the wound, she raised her hand to her cheek… and froze. The wound was gone. Not only had it healed, there wasn’t even a scab. It was as if she had never had the wound in the first place.

Her eyes opened wide. Wonderingly, she drew a large knife from her side, then lightly cut her left forearm, at a spot an inch or two below the metal bracer. Although she bled, it was only a tiny bit. The blood was thick and dark red, almost black. It was faint, but she saw a dim blue twinkle of light… then the wound closed up. It was almost as if her blood had withdrawn itself back into her body, while pulling the wound closed after itself, until all that was left was a red line that grew smaller and fainter even as she watched. Before even a minute had passed, all traces of the wound had disappeared.

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A corner of her lips twitched upwards. Then, she took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. Her face resumed its usual expression, one of focused determination. Reaching out to part the curtain of vines, she stepped out of the cave...

… straight into a wall of pointy metal bits and menacing metal tubes. A variety of makeshift spears, rusty swords, dilapidated light crossbows, unwieldy muskets, and battered single-shot pistols were pointed at her, from a few feet away, wielded by the bounty hunters that had been hounding her steps for the past few days. They had been lying in wait, literally. There were some of them who had been slower to react than the rest, still getting to their feet. They had taken the precaution of not lighting any torches, which explained why she had not noticed them through the vines.

Although the past few days of observation had shown her that this group of bounty hunters was not exactly an elite outfit, currently, they looked even more wretched than usual. Around half of them sported burns with varying degrees of severity on their bodies and equipment, and they looked at her with gazes filled with barely-restrained rage and need for vengeance.

Without any warning, a crossbow twanged and a bolt whoosed past her head, lightly brushing the brim of her hat, then shattered against the rock face behind her.

Trip didn’t react in any way. She didn’t even flinch. She stared determinedly at the bounty hunters, looking at them one by one. She stood straight with a relaxed posture, with her hands loose at her sides. Under the moonlight, clad in her black hat and duster, her relaxed yet ready posture was reminiscent of a panther preparing to pounce.

“Hold your fire! At least aim for her body, NOT her head!”, a raspy voice commanded.

“Sorry Boss. It went off by itself. Wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

“Black Hat Trip, you’re lucky you’re worth more alive than dead! Soooooo MUCH more!”, said the raspy voice again.

The voice came from the biggest bounty hunter in the group, who stood a full head taller than the rest. He had powerful shoulders, a large paunch, and a fleshy jowl. His entire left side was covered with burns, including a large, painful-looking burnt patch on the left side of his face. His beady eyes were narrowed into cruel slits, while his mouth was twisted into a satisfied sneer. His right hand held a large single-shot pistol, pointed at her.

Trip looked at him, and laughed. Mockingly, purposefully. She recognised that voice.

“I guess ‘drop and roll’ didn’t work?”, she said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

With just a sentence, she rendered the big bounty hunter (whom she had labelled Mr. Drop-and-Roll in her head) too angry for words. Well, coherent words, at any rate.

While spitting and growling something unintelligible, Mr. Drop-and-Roll stepped forward to press the muzzle of his pistol against her forehead. His eyes were bulging, his face had turned red, and a vein near his temple was visibly throbbing .

“Go ahead! Test your luck! My men and I would be happy to do without the bonus for bringing you in alive, as long as we get some satisfaction! Someone bring me a torch!”

In a matter of moments, one of the bounty hunters had lit a torch and passed it to Mr. Drop-and-Roll. With a leering expression full of anticipation, he brandished the burning torch towards Trip’s face. As Trip squinted with one eye completely closed and the other narrowed to a slit, Mr. Drop-and-Roll gloated, “I’m going to burn you the same way you burnt us!”.

At that moment, the vines behind her rustled.

“Miss Tang, I must apologise for taking so… oh, my goodness.”

“Who’s that? Come forward!”, shouted Mr. Drop-and-Roll, as he shifted the torch towards White Dragon’s voice.

“We’ve got you surrounded, so don’t try anyth--!”

Taking advantage of the distraction, Trip made her move.

-- Chapter 5, End --