by Tao Wong
“Do not pack. I will go in your stead,” his father cut in.
Wu Ying stared at his father, Long Yu Hi, as he stomped into the house. Wu Ying could see the limp in his father’s steps even when he was trying to hide it, a result of his enrollment in the army over a decade ago.
“Ah Hi, don’t be foolish.” Long Fa Rong, Wu Ying’s mother, echoed her words by pulling on Yu Hi’s arm, stopping him. She met his eyes, putting subtle pressure on his arm. “Do you wish to lose even more face when they tell you no?”
“But…”
“Our son is smart and brave. He even has progressed to the second level of Body Cleansing,” Fa Rong said.
But for all her brave words, Wu Ying could see the tears in her eyes, and his stomach clenched tightly with suppressed emotions. He offered her a slight smile in thanks before he turned to his father and bowed. “Papa. Please.”
“You… you idiot. If you’re going to go, remember what we taught you. Remember to practice every day,” Yu Hi said gruffly. “Go. The seeds won’t plant themselves. And the lieutenant will not wait.”
“Yes, Papa,” Wu Ying said, bobbing his head before hurrying to the curtain that marked his room.
He pulled it aside and quickly packed, taking the couple of changes of clothing, the single other pair of cloth shoes, and a small, softcover copy of the Yellow Emperor’s Cultivation Manual. This was Wu Ying’s personal copy, which he had industriously copied from the main copy in the text room, using a mixture of paper scavenged from his father’s medicine and tea packages. The manual had his own notes on cultivation, notes that he used to guide his development. Next, he picked up the sword manual that contained, in cryptic terms, the steps of the Long family sword style. It was bare of much information, the details scrubbed of all but the names, a simple reminder for Wu Ying if he ever forgot. As for the details—those could only be passed down in person.
In minutes, Wu Ying was ready and, with some twine, quickly tied his belongings together. As he stepped out of his alcove, he found his mother had prepared a package of easy-to-eat foodstuff for him to take. With a twisted smile, he took it with thanks. Just before he stepped away, his mother hugged him tightly to her bosom.
Standing still and stiff at first, Wu Ying eventually relaxed and hugged her back, burying his face into his shorter mother’s hair. For a moment, he reveled in the human contact. It was rare for them to touch, so this brief contact was something he intended to savor.
“Don’t forget to burn a joss stick for your ancestors. Then go. Don’t be late. And if you can, let us know how you’re doing,” Fa Rong said.
“I will. Goodbye, Mama,” Wu Ying said and bowed to her one last time.
Wu Ying moved quickly to the small altar set inside the house and retrieved the joss sticks before lighting three and paying obeisance to the group. It did not take long before he was done, placing the joss sticks in the urn. Once he exited, Wu Ying looked around and found his father’s back. It was in the fields once again, bent as always over the rice plants. Wu Ying’s lips pursed, then he shook his head. That was his father’s way—to show little emotion, to offer only the barest encouragement, and to expect the best of him. With a sigh, Wu Ying turned aside and jogged toward the village, knowing that if he did not, he would likely be late.
For all the heartache and pain in leaving, for all the likely danger they were about to encounter, Wu Ying found himself looking forward to the day. If nothing else, he would have a chance to see the world beyond their tiny village. And who knows, he might even win some glory for their family. It had happened before.
The trip out from the village was the conscripts’ first taste of being under military rule. Immediately, the students were lined up and marched along the muddy roads, each of them forced to move in lockstep. Luckily, not only were they all cultivators, they had been taught some martial arts at an early age, ensuring that the group was fit and healthy. As such, the only concern was learning to move in unison in the weird lockstep march that the sergeant required of them.
Achieving an approximation of the march was something the disciplined students could achieve, but an approximation was insufficient for the sergeant’s requirements. As such, the sergeant constantly harassed them, using a willow switch to strike at legs, arms, and backs until the group moved to his liking.
In time, the group made its way to the next village, hours away, where a similar scene as in their village repeated itself. Unfortunately, the village chief did not have as good a relationship with his own villagers. Rather than finding a justifiable or fair method of splitting the burden, the chief favored his underlings heavily, sending more than one family into tears. Yet in the face of the overwhelming strength of the army personnel and the chief’s own personal cultivation strength, none dared to object.
“This… why would he do that?” Fa Hui said to Wu Ying.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Wu Ying replied softly.
“He’s weakening his village. Those farmers, they won’t have anyone to take over their lands if their sons die,” Fa Hui replied.
“Yes. And perhaps he’ll take them over. Or give them to his friends,” Wu Ying said, nodding toward the side where a group of villagers smirked.
“That…” Fa Hui fell silent.
Two of the biggest issues for farmers were the matters of labor and inheritance. If you were lucky enough to have most of your children survive the diseases and injuries of childhood before they achieved some level of cultivation, you then had an additional helper working your land. But when said children grew up, if you had more than a few, you faced the problem of inheritance. A plot of land could only sustain so many mouths. And no son wanted to live with his father or brother forever.
“It’s still wrong.”
“Maybe. But it’s not our village,” Wu Ying said then clamped his mouth shut when the sergeant looked over the pair.
Since they were in the square, discipline had been relaxed. But even then, the sergeant disliked them speaking too loudly. As the sergeant glared at the group, the conscripts fell silent, watching the little drama play out. In time, the new conscripts regrouped and the now larger group marched toward the next village. Thankfully, the sergeant now had a new set of volunteers to abuse, giving the older conscripts some leeway to march.
In the evening, the group found an empty clearing in the forest that spread between the farms and villages, a place where everyone could rest. Even with the amount of land needed to ensure the populace was fed, there were still areas like this—no-man’s-land between villages. At this point, the conscripts learned new and interesting skills, including how to set up a camp the army way, how to dig a latrine the army way, and even how watches were to be set. In this wilderness, Spirit beasts and the occasional bandit group roamed.
“Of course Yin Xue gets his own tent,” Fa Hui muttered, shooting a look at where the lord’s son had his tent set up.
He and Wu Ying, along with a few others, were crouched over a boiling pot of water, waiting for the rice and vegetables to cook. Set over the pot was a small steamer where strips of meat and salted fish had been placed to cook.
Over the course of the day, Wu Ying had paid a little attention to Yin Xue, curious about the lord’s son’s position in the army. He was not part of the regular conscripts, evident by the fact that he was allowed to ride a horse. Yet he did not ride with the army personnel either. Even now, Yin Xue seemed to occupy a piece of land between the conscripts and the army personnel, who bunked in the center of the formation.
“Hush,” Wu Ying said. “You know better, Ah Hui. You’ll get us in trouble.”
“Bah. We’re not at home anymore. We’re in the army,” Fa Hui said. “The rules are different.”
“Not as different as you think, peasant,” Yin Xue said, speaking from behind the peasant. He set his hand on the sword hilt he carried, raising his voice. “Say that again.”
“The rules are different here,” Fa Hui said, standing as well.
With a wince, Wu Ying stood and put himself between his big friend and the lord’s son. “Yin Xue, Fa Hui’s only saying that we are all in the army now. We are just learning new rules and it’s likely the rules are different.” Wu Ying tried for a genial smile.
Ever since Yin Xue had gained Xia Jin’s favor at the last Qixi festival, Fa Hui had been looking for ways to antagonize Yin Xue. Of course, the difference in their statuses made it nearly impossible for Fa Hui to do so safely, but obviously Fa Hui felt safe now.
“That—”
Before Fa Hui could make it worse, Wu Ying elbowed his friend in the stomach, hard enough to force his friend to shut up. Yin Xue of course noticed the interaction, but chose to say nothing of it.
“Have you eaten, Yin Xue? Our rice should be ready soon,” Wu Ying said with a smile.
“No. I actually came by to speak with you, Long Wu Ying. I always heard from my father that yours was a good swordsman in the army. A man who achieved the Sense of the Sword with your Long family style. Someone who was on the cusp of the Heart of the Sword before his injury. He must have taught you a little,” Yin Xue said softly, a malicious look entering his eyes.
“No…” Wu Ying automatically began to deny the statement.
“No? He didn’t teach you anything?” Yin Xue said, eyes narrowing then looking over Wu Ying’s shoulder at Fa Hui.
Wu Ying could not help but sweat a little internally. After all, Yin Xue was Body Cleansing 4—three whole levels above Fa Hui. And while in the Body Cleansing stage, each open meridian provided benefits, those benefits could be overcome with skill and innate strength. Unfortunately, Yin Xue had both. Fa Hui only had his innate strength. If Yin Xue kept pushing, Wu Ying knew that his friend would likely be seriously injured.
“Yes, he did. I meant, no, I would never be so forthright and say he was good,” Wu Ying said, bowing his head slightly. Better to play meek and see where Yin Xue took this. If he wanted to lay down a beating, then Wu Ying would accept it. As one of the few villagers who could compete marginally with Yin Xue, Wu Ying often found himself matched with the other—in words or cultivation.
“Good, then you’ll practice with me,” Yin Xue said.
“I don’t think we should…” Wu Ying said, casting a glance at the army personnel. They barely paid any attention to the conscripts, a fact that made Yin Xue smirk.
“I do not believe they mind. After all, practice in the martial arts is important. As is discipline,” Yin Xue said, looking at Fa Hui at the end. There was even a light smirk on his face, making Wu Ying grimace.
“I don’t have a sword.”
“I can have one lent to you,” Yin Xue said.
While Yin Xue sent a nearby conscript to pull a sword from his roll, Fa Hui had grabbed Wu Ying’s arm.
“You cannot do this. He will beat you,” Fa Hui hissed at Wu Ying.
“Of course.” Wu Ying would not overestimate the training he had received. “But if I don’t, he’s going to challenge you. And you won’t stand any chance.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Fa Hui said again, but Wu Ying chuckled.
“I’ve been doing this since we were kids. It’s fine,” Wu Ying said with a wave. He nodded at the conscript who returned with the jian.
Wu Ying unsheathed the sword and did a quick check to ensure the weapon was sharp and straight before he twirled it around, gaining a feel for its weight. The jian—a double-edged straight sword—was of decent quality and weighed about a catty[3] and a half, being two and a half chi[4] long. Longer than Wu Ying was used to, but that could work in his favor in this instance.
Yin Xue watched Wu Ying’s preparations with a smirk, waving the other conscripts back.
“Are you ready?” Yin Xue said as he unsheathed his sword at his hip. The lord’s son took a relaxed guard, sword held just above his lead leg as he waited for Wu Ying to take position across from him.
“This is a practice session, right?” Wu Ying said as he mimicked Yin Xue’s motion.
“Of course. Just practice,” Yin Xue replied. Even as his words came to an end, Yin Xue lunged forward before cutting down. Willow strikes the swallow.
Wu Ying stepped aside, shifting forms as well. Greeting the rising sun. Dragon stretches in the morning. Dragon raises its wings. Each motion led to the next, each action flowing smoothly into the other. As much as Wu Ying might protest, he was certainly not a simple beginner at sword forms, having been taught since he was little. But while he had received the Long family sword forms from his father, their training happened late at night or early in the morning, in the gaps between taking care of the farm, cultivating, and schooling. Yin Xue, on the other hand, had learned from august tutors, day in and day out, without worry or concern about a hard winter or a heavy spring rainstorm. And of course, Yin Xue was two levels higher in Body Cleansing.
“Hsss…” Wu Ying gritted his teeth as a lunge that he had been too slow to stop cut across his arm. He managed to shift the blade enough that it only scored his arm, cutting flesh and leaving a bloody wound but not harming the muscle beneath.
“Enough, Yin Xue!” Fa Hui said upon seeing Wu Ying cut.
“We have just started. Wu Ying would not stop over such a small injury, would he?” Yin Xue replied, smirking. “Or else I will have to find someone else to keep training with.”
“It’s fine,” Wu Ying said, waving his friend down and raising the sword again. “It was just a mistake.”
“Good. Very good,” Yin Xue said. “Then I’ll keep coming.”
Yin Xue stepped forward immediately, speeding up his attacks. The pair spun and cut, thrust and blocked as they whirled around the small circle the conscripts had formed. All the conscripts watched, mouths slightly open as they exclaimed at the level of the fight before them. For the villagers, this level of fighting was an uncommon sight, even if the pair themselves knew that it was like the untrained swinging of swords in the eyes of the real experts.
In a few more passes, Wu Ying found himself pressed back as Yin Xue slowly picked up the speed and fluidity of his attacks. Wu Ying’s eyes widened slightly as he struggled to keep up, his grip on his sword tightening in fear as he realized that Yin Xue had been holding back. Each motion seemed faster than the last, each attack coming closer and closer to hitting him. Wu Ying’s breathing sped up, his heart rate skyrocketing. From outside the duelling ring, it would be impossible to tell, but every few attacks, Yin Xue would suddenly shift his trajectory, going for a blow that would do more than touch but kill.
“Willow strikes the swallow,” Yin Xue said softly.
Wu Ying jerked his sword up to guard, his body too tired to stop its automatic reaction. Too late, Wu Ying realized that it was a trick. Yin Xue twisted the sword, dipping the blade around his own block and letting the point plunge directly into the lower right of Wu Ying’s abdomen. A slight twist as the blade came out opened the wound further.
Wu Ying felt the strength in his legs give out, and he dropped to a knee. A second later, the pain hit and his breathing grew erratic.
“What is going on here!” Too late, the sergeant noticed the danger and stalked over.
As the sergeant berated Yin Xue for injuring him, Wu Ying had a hand pressed to his side to stem the bleeding.
Eventually, the sergeant turned away and looked at Wu Ying before sniffing. “Fool. Practicing with real swords. You there! You were the village doctor’s son?” A murmured agreement. “Then bandage him up.”
More muttered protests, but Wu Ying paid no attention to them until insistent hands had him lying down, a bandage pressed against his body. Wu Ying hissed as more pressure came down on the wound. When he focused, he saw a worried-looking Fa Hui and a thin young boy hovering over him.
“The wound is wide and open. I’ll need to stich you closed and put a paste on it. It will hurt,” the boy said. “I need to boil some water and clean my instruments first.”
“Thank. You,” Wu Ying said.
“Don’t. Idiot,�
� the healer said with a snort and scurried out of Wu Ying’s sight, Fa Hui taking over the job of keeping pressure on Wu Ying’s side.
“I will kill Yin Xue,” Fa Hui growled softly.
“Stop it. It was your big mouth that started this,” Wu Ying said with a snarl. “I will be fine. Just avoid him.”
“Wu Ying—”
“Just stop it,” Wu Ying said. “Swear to me. You’ll not do anything.”
“I—”
“You owe me this. Swear,” Wu Ying snarled.
“I swear. So long as you live, I won’t touch Yin Xue!” Fa Hui said, his voice soft and urgent.
“Good.”
“You, out of the way,” the boy-healer said as he came back with his instruments. Pushing Fa Hui aside, he quickly threaded the silk thread through his bamboo needle. “Get some light.” The healer then turned to Wu Ying, his voice growing softer and more comforting. “Now, this is going to hurt.”
Wu Ying could only nod dumbly and take the cloth-wrapped piece of bamboo into his mouth. As the boy poured a handful of alcohol on his wound to cleanse it, Wu Ying bit down hard and screamed into the gag. When darkness rose to claim him as he felt the first stitch go in, he could only promise himself that he would get his own revenge on Yin Xue.
Chapter 3
Step. Another step. Then another. Pain radiated from his abdomen with each step. Even as he marched alongside the conscripts, Wu Ying felt the bandage around his side grow damper as blood squeezed out. The wound might have been stitched closed, but all this walking had probably torn at least one of those stitches. Sun An—the boyish-looking healer—had done his best to stitch everything together, but the wound had been deep.
“Drink,” Fa Hui said, offering Wu Ying a waterskin.
Wu Ying took the waterskin without protest, popped open the cap, and took a mouthful of the foul-tasting drink. Sun An had woken early to boil the herbs for this drink, a tonic that was meant to help with the pain and reduce the chance of inflammation. Of course, Sun An had grumbled about the lack of proper medical supplies while doing so.