It was Lieutenant Keung’s first day of specialised training. He stood with his back to the smooth white wall of a vast, warehouse-like chamber inside the Yu tower, its high ceiling bathed in sterile light that gleamed on the tiled floor. Beside him, the two Tai Li agents, Han and Jin, waited in silence.

  High above the wall, behind the concave glass of the observation deck, Captain Aiguo and General Denzhen watched from their vantage point. Aiguo held a digital pad, scrolling as he read aloud.

  ‘Shizhou Han, Yau special operations,’ he murmured as he scanned the screen. ‘Master of Baoding polearm techniques and Taikwou grappling. Top graduate of Yu Technical, coding prodigy and unrivalled gunslinger. And the second Tai Li, Puyahu Jin… equally decorated. Kickboxing savant, black belt in Zhou-Fu close-quarters, master of South Kowlooni wrestling, knife-combat specialist.’

  Aiguo scratched the bold Yue character tattooed on his cheek and gave a low whistle. ‘These records read like the proficiencies of a tribune on the verge of becoming a legate. Where did you even find them, sir?’

  Denzhen stood beside him with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on the training floor below. ‘I promised Luen Ying I would include them in our hunt for the Yang. They may not be Kingmakers, but they rival our best. That is why I wanted them here. They have no history in the tower and no reason to mock my son. They’ll test him without cruelty. Keung needs to feel pain but without any poison.’

  Aiguo raised a brow. ‘You’re giving him the hardest training of his life, yet you’re still protecting your son?’

  Denzhen glanced one last time at the training ground before turning to Aiguo. ‘Then don’t go easy on him.’

  The captain nodded as the general left the observation deck. Aiguo exhaled slowly, then summoned the lift to take him down to the training floor.

  Keung and the two Tai Li agents looked up as the Captain approached, his boots echoing against the white tiles. Lieutenant Keung stood ready in his Kingmaker training gear: loose dark trousers, flat-soled boots and a black compression vest that clung to his skin. Jin, his long hair tied in a ponytail, wore a white compression shirt and tapered training trousers, barefoot and relaxed in stance. Han, clean-shaven with neatly combed hair, wore the same outfit as his partner.

  Aiguo stopped a few paces from them. ‘Are you three ready?’

  ‘Yessir,’ Keung answered. The two Tai Li agents gave a nod.

  ‘Listen carefully, you two,’ Aiguo said to Han and Jin. ‘You’re here to help train Keung, motivate him. I want no dirty sparring and no disparaging words. If what you’re going to say isn’t feedback on his form, then your mouth better stay closed.’

  Then he turned to Keung. ‘And you. You’re not the Emperor’s nephew here. You’re not even a lieutenant. Forget anything that you thought made you special. None of that will stop the Yang from smashing your teeth in. You’re just a student. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’

  Keung gave a firm nod.

  ‘Good. We’ll begin in ten.’

  As Aiguo walked back towards the lift, Jin muttered just loud enough for Keung and Han to hear, ‘Never thought I’d see a lieutenant Kingmaker demoted all the way back to boot camp.’

  Han shot him a hard look. ‘Ease off. He’s here for a reason, and so are we. Don’t forget that, Jin. No fooling around, like the captain said.’

  The session began with conditioning drills. Keung hauled weighted bags up a steep incline, his arms burning as he struggled to keep pace with Han and Jin. Han’s effortless power reminded Keung of Cheng. He moved like an athlete born for this, his breathing steady and his expression calm. Jin was not as formidable as Han, but he made a point of shaking his head and giving an exaggerated tsk each time he passed Keung on the slope.

  After nearly an hour, Keung was doubled over and heaving for breath, pinching his side in a futile attempt to ease a painful stitch. Jin jogged on the spot while Han placed a steady hand on Keung’s back.

  ‘Hook your fingers around the bag next time,’ Han said evenly. ‘You were fatiguing muscles you never had to use.’

  Keung looked up, panting. ‘I’m sure I had a hook grip.’

  ‘No. I can see how tight your forearms are.’

  Keung glanced down. His forearms felt heavy and were swollen with veins, the muscles aching just as Han had said.

  Combat drills came next, each session set as a two?on?one spar. Han’s movements were sharp, every jab and hook hitting Keung’s jaw and chin. Jin capitalised on openings created by Han and darted in for takedowns. And when Keung defended against his reckless lunges, Jin became a whirlwind of kicks, pivoting and spinning like a madman.

  Before the first round had even finished, they had taken Keung down four times, forcing Aiguo to step in and reset the spar.

  By the second round, Keung felt heavier and slower. He kept crossing his feet as he changed stances, nearly tripping over himself. His blocks were weak, and punches and kicks slipped through his guard with ease.

  ‘Keep your arms up! Brace your core!’ Aiguo shouted from the side.

  Jin laughed as Keung fumbled another defence. Keung, frustrated, attempted a takedown of his own, but somehow Jin used the momentum to hurl Keung over his hip and slam him to the ground.

  ‘Was that supposed to be a counter? You move like you’ve got something up your ass.’

  Keung grinned through his exhaustion. ‘And you fight like I owe you money, Jin.’

  Han stepped forward and offered Keung a hand, pulling him to his feet. ‘Jin, tone it down—’

  ‘No, don’t,’ Keung interrupted. ‘I need you to be as ruthless as the Yang outside this tower.’

  Jin glanced at Han, then back at Keung. After a brief pause, he grinned and gave a single nod.

  The third round played out much the same. Han and Jin barely needed to coordinate, yet they controlled Keung with ease. Still, Keung only managed to get thrown to the ground twice.

  When the round finally ended, the three of them sat on the floor near the edge of the training circle, catching their breath and drinking from their water bottles. Keung dabbed a white gel onto his finger and pressed it against a cut above his brow, trying to stem the bleeding while Jin was talking about his past.

  ‘Back when I was a Ji Sia gangster, I had this trick I used to use to win fight comps.’

  ‘Oh no, don’t remind me,’ Han muttered, shaking his head.

  ‘It was a sparring hack. Nobody had an answer for it. As soon as the round started, I’d dive straight for a heel hook. Before anyone realised what was happening, they’d be tapping. Round’s over in five seconds. Drove people mad.’

  ‘That actually worked?’ Keung asked, frowning. ‘No one saw it coming?’

  Han rolled his eyes. ‘That’s because everyone assumed he wouldn’t be dumb enough to try.’

  ‘You think I’m joking, Keung sir? Stand up for a second,’ Jin said, already rising to his feet.

  Keung raised a brow but got up with him.

  Before Keung had even straightened his back, Jin dropped low and dragged Keung off-balance by his ankles and flipped him onto his back. Jin’s leg locked into a tight triangle around Keung’s thigh while his forearm twisted Keung’s heel sideways, trapping the foot tight under his armpit.

  Keung let out a startled yelp, instinctively about to tap as his ankle bent inwards unnaturally, when Jin suddenly released him. Keung stared up at him, stunned by how quickly the “trick” had left him helpless.

  ‘You really haven’t grown up, have you?’ Han said from the side.

  ‘Don’t hate the player, Han. Don’t hate the player,’ Jin shot back with a smirk.

  The next stage of training took them out of the tower’s sterile chambers and into the streets. Aiguo led Keung, Han and Jin onto the King Rail bound for Watalu City, near District Yau’s southern border. The district was one of Central Kowloon’s most densely packed urban regions, a chaotic sprawl of terraces, interwoven alleys, overhanging walkways and concrete tunnels. It was the perfect place to test their speed, agility and ability to navigate Kowloon’s chaotic sprawl.

  Keung rolled through a ten?metre drop and burst into a run, his boots thudding across the weathered wooden boards of a narrow ledge along the side of a tall groundscraper.

  Ahead of him, Han and Jin vaulted over the edge onto a terrace below. Keung watched them leap again, sliding down the sheer brick face of the next wall before vanishing through a service hatch into a dark alley.

  The sight of them weaving through buildings reminded Keung of his disastrous chase in Ho Man Ting, when he was running after those two Rioters. But here, at the southern end of District Yau, the two Tai Li moved like they had been born to this terrain.

  Keung dropped to the terrace, then slid down the same wall as the Tai Li. Rough brick tore at his elbows and knees, pain flaring as he crashed through the open grate of the service hatch. He failed to roll with the impact, his knees absorbing the full shock. His legs went numb as he staggered upright in the dimly lit alley.

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  Flickering red lights barely illuminated the corridor. It looked like the back street of a row of shops, cluttered with bins, loading bays and graffiti?streaked walls. The passage split in two at the far end, and Keung froze.

  Light, I’ve already lost them. How are they so fast?

  Keung moved through the dark alley, dusk-cats and sewer rodents darting at the edges of his vision. At the fork, Keung took the right. After a minute, it ended at a crooked doorway – a back entrance.

  He stepped into the narrow passage and found himself in a dark storeroom. The air smelled like old oil and burnt grain. Empty crates were stacked high, and dusty, defunct refrigerators loomed in the shadows.

  A curtain hung over an arched doorway between stacked boxes. Beyond it, a wide staircase descended into darkness. As Keung moved down, the smell of vinegar, dama and incense grew stronger. At the bottom, a landing opened onto a cramped den: several tables with small groups of gamblers, each table watched over by a man standing up.

  Gambling den. Judging by the entrance, not a legal one. I don’t think they realise I’m a Kingmaker, otherwise everyone would’ve run out the door by now.

  Cards and chips clinked softly and smoke lazily drifted under flickering overhead bulbs as Keung walked past, feeling the eyes of every patron track him.

  ‘Table, sir?’ a server asked, leaning over a cluster of gamblers.

  Keung shook his head and walked to the other end of the room, where the light barely reached, and into a narrow corridor.

  Through it, faded political posters clung onto its damp walls. Propaganda posters of Emperor Guangxu, his grandfather – posters from before Keung’s time.

  He emerged from the tunnel onto a balcony on the 60th floor, narrow but stretching wide across the wall of the groundscraper he was in. Beyond the railing stretched a vast open space, where towering groundscrapers loomed over a square of shorter blocks and sprawling terraces spread out twenty?five levels below.

  Long strings of lanterns crisscrossed between the bordering taller buildings, swaying gently high above the open terrace tops. Down there, children played noisy games, elders walked slowly in pairs, and groups of women sat in circles, busy with their work and chatter.

  Keung spotted movement on the far side of the square, nearly a hundred metres away. Han and Jin were scrambling down a row of rusted air-conditioning units bolted to the side of a towering groundscraper.

  Have they even realised I’m not behind them?

  Looking up, Keung noticed a lantern line tied to a hook on the wall above him.

  I’ll remind them.

  Keung planted one foot on the railing and vaulted up, snatching the cord with his right hand. The thin wire bit into his palm as it ripped free of its hook under his weight.

  This is insane!

  He swung out in a wide arc, the towering groundscrapers blurring around him. Wind tore past his face, stinging his eyes and filling his nose until he instinctively held his breath. Keung realised he was dropping fast; the line was too long for this height!

  I’m going to smash into the terraces!

  Thinking fast, he pulled himself hand over hand up the cord, muscles screaming as he climbed up the line.

  The terraces hurtled up to meet him—

  Heart in his mouth, his feet just skimmed the ground. He broke into a run, using the momentum to sprint across the terrace tops, leaping over its elevations and startling children and women who froze to watch the madman bolting through their square while holding a line.

  He stepped onto a ventilation duct, kicked off hard, and hurled himself into the air again. The cord pulled him higher as he swung upward toward the Tai Li, who were still clambering down the AC units fixed to the face of the towering groundscraper.

  Keung tucked his knees to his chest as he hurtled toward the two Tai Li, who turned to their left with wide eyes and jaws dropping.

  I’m going to smash into the wall!

  The Tai Li quickly moved closer to intercept, linking arms to catch Keung.

  Keung let go at the final arc. He crashed into their arms, his face stopping just short of the wall.

  Jin barked out a laugh. ‘Now that’s more like it, Kingmaker!’

  Han shook his head as they sat Keung down, who was huffing and puffing.

  ‘Sir, you were supposed to follow behind us, not intercept us halfway down… But I’ve never seen someone do something like that before.’

  Keung fought through his exhaustion to smile. Somehow, it wasn’t that hard. I’m not entirely useless, he thought.

  The next round of live drills began with Jin and Han circling Keung, that familiar grin of Jin’s tugging at his mouth. Han looked focused, hands raised, not letting Keung gain any insight into his thoughts.

  ‘Stop staring at my fists,’ Han said. ‘Hands can lie. My shoulders won’t.’

  Keung frowned. He shifted his sight to their shoulders.

  Han stepped in close, exaggerating a feint. His lead shoulder twitched forward a split second before his fist moved. Keung slipped past the hand, but he did not anticipate Jin moving to throw him over his hip. The next second, Keung lay sprawled across the floor.

  ‘See?’ Han said, offering a hand to pull him up. ‘You read my punch.’

  ‘Doesn’t make much difference when Jin is ragdolling me the way he is,’ Keung said as he got up to his feet.

  ‘Then watch his centre of gravity,’ Han replied. ‘If he’s leaning forward, he’s committing. If his weight’s on his heels, he’s baiting you to move first.’

  Keung nodded, stepping back to reset. Han and Jin began circling him again. This time, Keung focused on their shoulders.

  Han bobbed forward while Jin closed in from the side. Keung glanced at Jin’s stance – his weight was on his heels, not his toes.

  Han lunged and feinted his left shoulder. But his hands didn’t rise.

  Keung’s eyes dropped to Han’s hips. They twisted left, telegraphing the start of a kick. Keung sidestepped the kick before it even had a chance to hit him.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jin leaning forward. He’s going for the takedown.

  As Jin ducked under his arm to try and tackle him, Keung shifted his weight, hooked a leg behind Jin’s and locked his arms tight around Jin’s waist. Using Jin’s own momentum, Keung twisted and wrenched him backwards.

  Jin staggered, nearly losing his footing – but he quickly hooked Keung’s knee with his other leg and reversed the throw.

  Keung slammed onto the mat with a heavy thud. No! Damn!

  But when the lieutenant looked up, Jin’s grin had slipped. Despite failing again, Keung almost had him this time.

  Flat on his back, Keung’s gaze drifted past Jin to the observation deck high above. Through the dark tinted glass, he could just make out the silhouettes of Captain Aiguo and his father – both nodding their heads and speaking to each other.

  The mess hall was loud and busy with conversation and the clatter of chopsticks and sizzling table grills. They were between sessions and it was lunch time. Although it was highly irregular, Captain Aiguo invited the two outsiders, Han and Jin, to the Kingmaker dining tables.

  The four sat together near the far wall, shrugging off curious glances from other Kingmaker who noticed the two unfamiliar faces in unfamiliar uniforms. Their plates were stacked with the usual training fare: thin slices of braised rodent meat, steamed grain rice dusted with algae powder, and a bowl of earthy mushroom?noodle broth. Small dishes of pickled roots and spicy rodent curry added colour to the otherwise plain meal, all designed for high protein and easy recovery. These were meals laid out for Keung to eat during his training camp.

  Keung expected his meal with them to be uncomfortable and awkward, like during his usual experiences sharing tables here in this hall. However, this time, there was no edge between them. Keung felt as though their long training periods had brought them closer together. Jin still teased, but there was less venom in his jabs, and Keung had learned to give as good as he got. Han, as always, remained reserved, offering quiet observations rather than insults. But Han’s presence felt like Tribune Cheng’s, and that made Keung feel comfortable.

  ‘How do you think he’s been doing, Han?’ Captain Aiguo asked.

  ‘Not bad,’ Han remarked, setting down his chopsticks. ‘I didn’t hold any expectations… But I did think I’d have to hold you back from quitting at least once. Didn’t happen. That counts for something.’

  Keung gave a faint smile. ‘High praise, coming from you.’

  ‘What do you think are your weaknesses right now?’ Aiguo asked Keung as he reached for a piece of meat from the table grill.

  Keung paused to think. ‘My reflexes still need work.’

  ‘That’s actually where you’ve improved the most,’ Han countered.

  ‘I also hesitate before I strike,’ Keung admitted.

  ‘That’s because you’re not in a flow state,’ Aiguo replied. ‘It’ll come with more training.’ He looked at Jin. ‘What do you think about Keung?’

  Jin wiped oil from his fuzzy moustache. ‘Everything you’ve said is just a symptom of his biggest weakness.’

  Keung looked down at his plate, already knowing where this was going.

  ‘And what’s that?’ Aiguo asked.

  ‘During training, I kept asking myself why General Denzhen chose us as your partners. He did not have to. It is not as though Luen Ying’s arrangement with him included us being glued to Keung forever. At first I assumed it was because everyone was tied up with Yutai’s situation. But Keung said himself that only his detachment and a few others are involved, which means most Kingmakers should have been free to assist. Yet the General still picked us.’

  Captain Aiguo’s eyes narrowed as Jin went on.

  ‘Then I started noticing how some Kingmakers ignore him when we walked past. I kept thinking, “Do they even realise this is the nephew of the fucking Emperor next to me?” If they knew and still don’t care, then there’s only one explanation.’

  Keung continued eating. Yes, Jin. I’m—

  ‘—hated by almost every Kingmaker in the tower,’ Jin said, finishing Keung’s thought. ‘And your father picked us because we don’t know why. We’ve only just met you, while most of them have known you since you were born. Ironically, I think your peers hate you for the very reason your father chose us to train you – to protect you. Your feelings, your body, whatever it is. No other Kingmaker would’ve, I reckon. And that’s your biggest weakness. Your father just loves you too much. You’ve been shielded from failure your whole life. The moment someone else has to shield you from it, you’ve already failed. The more I think about it, the sorrier I feel for you, Lieutenant Keung.’

  Keung kept his eyes on his plate, silently chewing, giving nothing away. Han exhaled through his nose, nodding once before turning back to his meal.

  Across the table, Aiguo watched Keung for a long moment. He’d trained this boy since he was twelve, seen every defeat and victory. And though he said nothing, Aiguo knew better than anyone that Jin’s words weren’t just harsh. They were true.

  Their final spar began with the familiar 2-1 pressure.

  Jin darted in first, kicks snapping in quick roundhouses. Keung slipped and countered, pivoting just out of range. Han moved in from the flank, closing off Keung’s escape and following through with a rapid combination – jabs, a left hook, then an uppercut.

  Pulling his head back before each strike, Keung avoided them by inches. Han then clinched his torso, locking the lieutenant in tight. But Keung was waiting for this moment.

  Keung slid his arm under Han’s and clamped down hard. He swept his leg behind Han’s stance. With a sharp twist, Keung snapped his hips around, trying to rip Han clean off his feet and send him crashing over his waist; the very move he’d been victim to all training.

  But Han was faster. Planting his foot and shifting his weight, he reversed the throw and twisted to drag Keung sideways towards the ground.

  Not again!

  Keung fought to keep his balance, shifted his grip higher, and drove his hip in deeper. With one explosive motion, he reversed the reversal, hoisting Han clean over his hip and slamming him flat onto the mat.

  Jin lunged immediately for a takedown – the same reckless entry he had used all camp. But Keung had rehearsed this moment in his mind.

  As Jin shot in, Keung dropped low and rolled toward him. In one swift movement, he seized Jin’s heel, toppled him backwards and locked his legs in a tight triangle around Jin’s thigh. With a sharp twist of the heel, Keung forced the tap.

  Got you.

  The second Jin submitted, Keung sensed Han charging in from behind. He released Jin, rolled backwards across his shoulder and through Han’s legs, snatching Han’s ankle mid?movement. With a fluid sweep, Keung toppled him forward, locked the leg-triangle and twisted his ankle inwards.

  Han tapped quickly, avoiding the snap that was seconds away.

  Exhaling sharply, he hauled himself up to his feet, a flash of surprise crossing his usually stoic face as he turned to look at Keung.

  ‘Did he just… do that to us?’ Jin muttered as Han helped him up.

  Captain Aiguo slow clapped from the side as he stood up.

  ‘Better,’ he said with a smile. ‘Much better in fact. Training is one thing. Surviving when the rules no longer apply is what makes a Kingmaker.’

  Han and Jin exchanged a look, looked back at the Lieutenant, and offered a bow. No words, just new-found respect.

  As they left the mats, Jin muttered to Han, half?grinning. ‘Still a damned Kingmaker… but at least now he’s starting to fight like one.’

  Keung heard it and his back immediately straightened, his chest ou, his chin lifted. He couldn’t stop himself grinning. I’ve never felt this great before.

  High above, in the observation deck, Denzhen stood beside Aiguo, reviewing the training logs.

  ‘He reminds me of you,’ Aiguo said softly. After a pause, he added, ‘But sometimes I think I see his mother’s face instead.’

  Denzhen’s eyes rested on his son below.

  ‘That’s why I say she never really died.’