Burning Tigress by Jade Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

bare three hours later, his mentors Shi Po and her husband, Kui Yu, were in prison, sacred scrolls were in barbarian hands, and his employer's daughter demanded service that would likely get him fired.
    When Heaven turns its back, even the rats perish.
    He grimaced in disgust at the reversal in fortunes. He would need to be at his peak to weather the coming storm. Without conscious thought, he stripped off his jacket, shirt, and tie. Why the whites insisted on so many ridiculous layers, buttons, and ties, he would never understand; it prevented full breath in skin or lungs. But the master insisted, and so Ken Jin obeyed. Except, Ken Jin would not accept it now. At this moment, he needed a boost in vitality, so he shut and locked his door—or attempted to lock it. This morning's debacle had proved the mechanism was faulty. Then he pulled out his tools and knelt bare-chested in the tiny space between desk and bed.
    He knelt on a rug with a dragon design. He placed his knees on the belly of a cloud dragon, the tops of his feet extending toward the whipping, spiny tail. He had to unbutton the top of his trousers, as he could not afford to rip another pair. Then, once the fabric was rolled sufficiently down his hips, he carefully inserted a great needle into the Sea of Energy point, three finger widths below his navel. Two deep breaths, and then he raised his hands, pressed both thumbs and forefingers into the Gates of Consciousness.
    With fire below and openness above, all of Heaven is within reach.
    This time, his breath had an echo—a depth that told him his spirit stretched toward the divine. His eyes closed and he began the internal inventory that was his ritual. His mind was more scattered than usual, but he carefully brought it into focus. Starting with his head and flowing down to his toes, he surveyed his body. It was strong with no pains. His energy channels flowed clearly with only one obvious blockage. Wind, fire, water, wood, and metal coexisted within him at an acceptable balance.
    He turned his attention to the energy blockage in his pelvis at the gate to his dragon. This morning's work had opened up the channel, allowing some of his carefully stored yang to flow. His dragon lived and breathed again as it had not for over a year. In truth, the problem had begun long ago, perhaps even in early childhood. He did not know the cause, only that as he aged, the blockage became worse and his dragon began to wither.
    At first he thought his yang stores were simply weak. He devoted all his attention to purifying his male energies, carefully hoarding and cleansing his masculine power through privations and meditations, special herbs and careful exercises. After two decades, his yang was the rarified substance of the most devout practitioner. Unfortunately, there seemed to be too little of it.
    Then he learned that yang responds to yin; that a woman's energies give rise to a man's. So he became a gatherer of women. He teased them, he seduced them, he did whatever was needed so that he could drink of their fluids. And his yang responded... for a while.
    But three years ago, a blockage had appeared. Though his yang remained pure and strong, it could not flow to his dragon. His organ was slow to rise, quick to withdraw. And in the last year, it could not be woken at all. At least not until this morning. Not until his needles were inadvertently driven deep into his Sea of Vitality.
    Had he at last opened the channel to his yang stores? He fervently prayed it was true, even as he began his strengthening meditation. He would have to use all of his resources to build upon this new beginning. He would need special herbs, deep meditations, and yin—lots of female yin—to simulate the renewed growth of his yang and keep the dragon gate open. He would need Miss Charlotte's yin in great quantities.
    Odd, how the thought excited him as much as it repulsed him. But he had no room in his mind for doubts. He needed her yin to bolster his