by Bob Gansler
#1 - JAN 00	A Dark Spirit Rising

At the foot of the mighty Himalayan Mountains, a lone inn stood as the sole refuge for miles around from the cold. The biting winds blew strongly against the wooden walls of the establishment, but their icy touch could not reach those inside. The local shepherds were gathered once again inside by the fireplace, telling tales that grew farther from the truth with each hour and with each bottle of ale.

They were laughing heartily at the tale being told by the local legend, a man who went by the name of Yak. It was not so much that Yak was a great storyteller, it was because Yak was known to have a very short temper. His comrades liked to stay on his good side. Those on his bad side tended to end up with bruises and broken times or sometimes a slice across the neck.

The men begged Yak to tell another story when the door to the inn suddenly flung open. The frigid air came rushing through the doorway. A single man, carrying a large sack on his back, stood in the doorway, seemingly oblivious to the cold. He wore a furred coat over a blue kimono.

"Shut the door, fool!" Yak called out as he pulled his mug of ale from his face. His thick moustache was wet from the brew, and it was quickly freezing there from the intruding coldness.

The man stepped inside and closed the doorway. All the while, his piercing eyes were fixed upon Yak. There was no fear in his eyes, simply indignance at Yak's words. The man walked over to an open table and sat down.

"It's him," one of the locals jabbed Yak in the ribs. "It's him."

"Him who?" Yak demanded.

"The one that humbled … er, I mean beat you by trickery," the local responded nervously.

{Shang-Chi was at this inn back in MOKF #124}

Yak's eyes widened. "Yes, I remember him now. The one called Shang-Chi, the one who sought to climb the Great Mountain, Minya Yonka. He never came back, I figured he froze to death." He pushed his drink off of the table and drunkenly rose to his feet. "So, it is you, Shang-Chi."

The man stared at Yak. "It is you who say that I am."

Yak turned back to his comrades. "Listen to his words," he laughed. "He talks as if he were a monk from the monastery." He marched towards the man. "So, my good monk, have you come to pay your respects to the Great Yak."

The man chuckled. "Would that be you or some animal god of yours?"

"Insult me, will you?" Yak pulled a dagger from his belt. "It's time I cut out your insolent tongue."

The man rose to his feet, the bag still on his back. He would not allow it to leave his possession. Yak laughed at the disadvantage the man in which the man was putting himself as he lunged with the dagger. The man stepped to the side and drove his elbow into Yak's forehead.

Yak stumbled backwards, and his eyes spun around in their sockets. He made a half-hearted attempt to step towards the man and then collapsed. The other locals sprang from their seats and gathered around Yak. The ruffian was out cold.

"It is you, Shang-Chi," the innkeeper came forward from the behind the man, a large smile on his weathered face. "Remember me, Yoba Goruda?"

"I am not here for pleasantries. I want a hot drink before I continue my journey to Minya Yonka."

"Did you not find that for which you searched the last time?" Yoba asked.

"If I did, would I be here again?" He scowled at Yoba. "My drink? Or must I do to you what I did to Yak?"

Yoba nodded slighlty and hurried back behind the bar. "Of course, some hot tea." This was not the same Shang-Chi that he had met before, Yoba concluded. Something was different about him now, something more sinister.

When morning came, Yoba watched as his visitor stalked out the inn. The stranger had spent the entire night in the bar, never sleeping, never releasing his hold upon the bag. No offer of payment for the lodging had been made, and Yoba was too afraid to ask for anything. He was simply glad to see him leave.

The man trudged through the snow towards the Great Mountain. He allowed himself a slight smile as he thought about the past night's escapade. "Apparently, Shang-Chi must have visited that place in the past. He must have made some impression upon them, though perhaps not as great of one as I have. They will remember me, though they knew not my name, Xan-Chi, the True Spirit."

A few hours after dawn, Xan-Chi was well on his way to his final destination. At a thin pass filled with gusting winds, he came upon a mound of stones. The thick flat stones were neatly piled one on top of the other. He recognized them for what they were - they were put there by other travelers to mark their passing and to thank the gods for reaching this point. He walked directly at them. He would not stoop over to add another stone to the pile. Rather, he kicked the pile with disdain. The stones scattered while his lightly clad foot was seemingly none the worse for wear from the contact. Xan-Chi continued on.

As Xan-Chi rounded the corner of the pass, a tall humanoid shadow was cast in front of him. He paused for a moment and studied the shadow. The dark shape was enormous. While that might be deceptive, Xan-Chi could tell from the sun's position that the figure which cast the shadow must indeed be large.

The shadow came closer as its caster walked forward. Soon, Xan-Chi could see the originator of the shadow. It was a large humanoid figure. It was completely covered by brown fur. The fur was longer about its calves, forearms, and face. Xan-Chi recognized for what it was - a Migou, that which the Western World called an "Abominable Snowman".

The Migou stared at Xan-Chi and its eyes lit up with recognition. The Migou still remembered his encounter with Shang-Chi some years past. They had first met here by the stone pile. They had also met near the top where the Migou had saved Shang-Chi from plummeting to his death. The Migou recognized a familiar face and offered an inhuman smile.

{Once again in MOKF #124}

Xan-Chi could read the monster's face. It was clear to him that the Migou recognized him, or at least thought he did. "This is my home," he thought, "and yet all seem to know Shang-Chi." He extended his hand towards the creature, in apparent friendship. The Migou 'smiled' even wider and reached out with his own hairy hand. Xan-Chi quickly spun around and delivered a smashing kick to the Migou's chest. The Migou crashed into the hard rock and slumped down. He could have risen but he chose not to. He simply looked at Shang-Chi with a tear in his eye. Xan-Chi continued on.

Shortly before nightfall, Xan-Chi came to the foot of the Great Mountain, Minya Yonka. However the magnificient peak was not his goal. Rather it was the fantastic structure that rested at the base of the mountain - Rache Churan, the Monastery of Fear.

"Home," Xan-Chi thought as he rushed towards the four tall stone walls that enclosed the monastery. While from the outside, it appeared as any Tibetan monastery might, the secrets that were held within its walls were an entirely different matter. He bounded through the snow towards the main gate.

At the gate stood two guards. Each of the bald men carried a two-pronged pike in his hands. They crossed the pikes as they saw Xan-Chi approach.

"Who dares seeks entrance to Rache Churan, the Monastery of Fear?" one of the guards demanded.

"Brothers, blessed be Thugben Sung, I have returned." Xan-Chi bowed towards the two pike-bearing guards. He then voiced a complex string of Tibetan words, a sequence known only to those initiated in the deepest secrets of Rache Churan.

"It truly is our brother, the True Spirit, and not the False Son," the guards said excitedly. They uncrossed their pikes and allowed Xan-Chi entrance.

Once inside of the monastery, Xan-Chi headed directly for the hut of the high lama, Thugben Sung. He ignored the cries of surprise and astonishment from the other monks. He brushed aside the beads that hung in the entranceway and entered the hut.

Inside, the aged lama sat in a lotus position in front of a burning braizer. His face was wrinkled with the years of life. The only hair upon his head was his long white beard. At Xan-Chi's entrance, he looked up and stared at the young man with his sage-like eyes.

"I have finally returned to the monastery," Xan-Chi said proudly.

"Yes, you have, but to what end?" The words of Thugben Sung did not emanate from his mouth, but rather directly from his mind. His lips never moved, but still his words were as clear to Xan-Chi. "We sent you out into the world in order to glorify the name of your father."

Xan-Chi bowed slightly but kept a tight grip upon the sack. "Yes, that was my task," he replied proudly. "The lifetime of training here at the monastery prepared me well for that duty."

"You learned well, my son," Thugben agreed mentally. "When the glorious Fu Manchu entrusted you as a mere babe to our care, we sought to impart unto you all that Rache Churan had taught him in his younger days. While Fu Manchu taught Shang-Chi in Honan, he had a clone of his son secretly taught there as well. Another clone, he brought to us for instruction, to learn as he did. That was you, Xan-Chi, the True Spirit."

Xan-Chi straightened up. "Your teachings served me well. I have killed my father's greatest foe, the British agent, Sir Denis Nayland Smith. Though he was old and decrepit, I would not allow him to peacefully slip into the next life. His opposition and interference in my father's magnificent plans demanded that his death come at the hand of another, at my hand."

{As shown in MDL's MOKF #0}

"You have done well," Thugben beamed. "However, despite your self-confidence, I rather doubt that you have returned to us simply to boast of the death of an old foe." His eyes fixed upon the sack. "Might that which you carry be the purpose of this visit?"

"The high lama is most wise," Xan-Chi grinned. "The world has changed much since I left these blessed walls. Perhaps never so much as it has in recent days, of this I'm sure you are aware."

Thugben Sung nodded. "Yes, the very air speaks of the rise of dark powers. Even the youngest of initiates at Rache Churan could sense it. The power speaks to us, as I'm sure it does to you."

{This, of course, refers to the events of the in Bloodrise limited series}

"Yes, the power speaks to me. It speaks of greater glories that even I had dared dream. It speaks to me of a spirit rising," Xan-Chi replied.

"What mean you? You are the True Spirit."

"I am simply a true reflection of the greatest. The grandeur lies here." He opened the bag and let its contents spill out. They were human bones and they rattled as they fell on the floor.

"Are these …" Thugben mentally asked.

"These are the bones of my father, the Celestial Fu Manchu. When the dark power rose up, I felt a spirit calling to me. The power could be harnessed in a way to those with the knowledge. I went to Honan, I went to my father's retreat where his false son Shang-Chi had brought about his death. I sifted through the wreckage for days until I found every single bone that had comprised his ineffable mortal shell."

{Fu Manchu met his demise in MOKF #118}

"But what would you have us do with it," Thugben inquired. "Such as a task as you might envision would be beyond even our learned skills?"

"Perhaps beyond yours," Xan-Chi replied, "but not beyond those of the glorious Fu Manchu. In days past, my father was able by his genius to bring the bones of our esteemed ancestor Shaka Kharn, the man who created the Elixir Vitae, to life. The Elixir permeated every cell of my father's body. It still resides within his bones. With the science that resurrected Skaka Tharn, and the nefarious power that taints the world, we can return my father, the Celestial One, to life!"

After days of preparation by all of the monks of the community, the time had come. The equipment had been constructed and was in place. Notes that Xan-Chi had recovered from the demolished Honan retreat had instruected them how to synthesize the nutrient fluids that would be necessary to generate the body about the bones. Some monks had spent the days arrayed around the bones in chanting prayer, collecting and refining the ambient power of darkness. Now this strange blend of science and the supernatural was poised to revive the most insidious man who ever lived.

Now the entire Rache Churan community stood before the bones of Fu Manchu, collected in a coffin-like glass box. Xan-Chi stood opposite the monks. His hands were pressed in prayer, his fingertips just slightly touching his chin. "We begin!"

"Ani mani padme um," the chanting began.

A vast array of tubes and beakers stood beside Xan-Chi on a wooden table. He took the first beaker and poured it over the bones.

"Ani mani padme um!"

On the other side of Xan-Chi was a solar-powered apparatus. It had the appearance of a classic ray-gun, but it was much more than that. Xan-Chi threw a switch and the bones were bathed with an eerie green light."

"Ani mani padme um!"

Xan-Chi continued to add liquids and energy dishcarges to the glass container holding the bones. The monks continued to chant with ever-increasing intensity. Finally, Xan-Chi added the nutrient fluids that now totally immersed the bones in liquid.

"Now, for the Great Man who gave me my life, I happily and eagerly give a portion of mine." He took the dagger and had been in his belt and slashed one palm and then the other. He held his hands over the glass tank and let his blood drip down into the unholy mixture.

"ANI MANI PADME UM!"

"Now," Xan-Chi shouted. "Let him rise!" As he stepped back from the tank, a thunderbolt of pure ebony came down from the sky and enveloped the tank. The contents sizzled and smoked for a few seconds, and then all was silent.

The monks drew slightly closer to see the spectacle unfolding. The bones glowed with an obsidian light. Slowly the glow died down as the bones became covered with red. Nerves and blood vessels began to generate. Muscles, cartilage, and ligaments began to form. Internal organs began to grown from nothingness. Finally a smooth layer of yellow-pigmented skin began to appear. Dark hair began to grow upon the head. It grew long upon the back of his head, and it grew long upon his face to form his trademark mustache.

As the body began to stir, the monks took a step backward. It writhed for a few seconds, and then it began to sit up. The head and torso broke through the surface of the unholy solution.

The eyes opened and his catlike green eyes burned with an intensity that frightened even those monks who had known him best. He looked down at his hands, still dripping with the remnant of the resurrection solution. Then he looked up and smiled devilishly. "The world shall hear from Fu Manchu again!"

NEXT ISSUE : Shang-Chi finally makes his appearance within the page of his own title! Can he survive a reunion with his love Leiko Wu?

KUNG FU WRITING

I had to do it. I had to bring Fu Manchu back. I think that Bloodrise makes his return plausible. What do you think?

Bob Gansler
28-Jan-00