The knights shouted and attacked with their lances.
The Puritan attacked with a rifle.
But the samurai's armor deflected both lances and bullets, and his marvelous sword actually pushed the Europeans back, then back again, before the Puritan shouted "Nuts!" and bore back in, his rifle turning into a machine gun. The saints followed him, lances turning into machine guns, too, and foot by foot, they drove the samurai away from the Dragon, marvelling at the way his sword whirled, almost invisible, deflecting blow after blow—but some of them pierced his armor, enough so that he retreated and retreated again, to his home islands. There he raised a howl and set himself, both swords high, and the Europeans paused, knowing this would be a battle to the death—the samurai's death, and their own severe wounding. They were not at all sure they wished to kill so valiant a fighter.
The Puritan settled the matter by throwing a grenade.
It arched high, but the samurai tried to watch both the hurtling spheroid and the Europeans, alert for attack—and the grenade landed beside him, then bounced up under his armor to explode. The samurai cried out and fell, wounded; the swords dropped from his hands as he fell unconscious.
The Puritan was at his side in an instant, wrenching off the armor, placing a tourniquet, and binding the wound.
The saints turned back to the dragon, watching the shudders that racked its unconscious body, ready to step in with swords as soon as it raised its head.
Chiang Kai-Shek and the Europeans harried the Japanese; who shifted strength to fight the battle of the Pacific. The Chinese drove the islanders out. Then they turned to fighting among themselves again—and Mao Tse-Tung was all the stronger, for he had held aloof from fighting the Japanese, knowing that Chiang would weaken himself expelling them. Now that they were gone, he renewed his own attack, pressing closer and closer to Peking, conquering one warlord after another, driving Chiang Kai-Shek and his Nationalist Chinese off the mainland and onto the little island of Formosa. Finally, the Red Flag floated over all of China.
The Puritan looked up from his patient, sure he would live, and frowned. "He ain't China," he said. "Not that Commie. That guy on the island, Chiang, he's China."
"Neither of them are China." Saint George gripped his sword and raised his shield over Hong Kong. "The Dragon is China—and now the Dragon has turned Red."
They looked, and sure enough, it had. They stared, watching as the convulsions tapered off into shuddering, which quieted into natural sleep. The Europeans gripped their weapons nervously, for surely, this was a very large and mighty beast. They lifted shields, ready for anything, but deciding that perhaps they should seek trade, not plunder.
Mao consolidated his rule. Transformed into the Party, the ancient Civil Service was invigorated, streamlined—and answered only to him. All of China answered only to him.
And the Dragon awoke.