Po felt a strange vibration in his chest. Not his heartbeat—his inner peace. It was pinging like a dial-up modem. "The Archive… it’s calling me. Because I was there when Shen fell. I’m a witness."

Tigress stepped forward. "Then we go with you."

Indeed, fragments of the Archive had rained down for years. But one fragment had grown teeth. A corrupted memory—a shadow of Shen before his fall—had reconstituted itself inside the Archive’s wreckage. It called itself the , a being made of erased history, determined to delete every record of kung fu’s existence so that it might rewrite reality in its own hollow image.