Bamboo trunk was there again, in front of him, swaying sinuously, seemingly innocent in the faint breeze that sent the bamboo leaves fluttering like ten thousand vengeful crickets. He knew better, the sun filtering through green dappled leaves, the hue of this particular bamboo trunk was tinged with red, like the stink of blood. Pockmarked and scarred as if a multitude of swords and spears had bee...