The forest is alive. Sunlight filters through the branches of pine and oak trees. It casts beautiful shadows on the mossy ground.

  The wind rustled through the leaves, complemented by the melodic chirping of unseen birds. A distant stream splashed as water flowed by. Twigs snapped softly underfoot, creating a gentle rhythm for someone moving through the forest.

  Deep emerald ferns unfurled, at the bottom of your feet to the sage of lichen clinging to weathered bark. Mushrooms sprouted in clusters around decaying logs, their caps glistening from the morning dew. Wildflowers punctuated the landscape with splashes of purple, yellow, and white.

  The air carried a sweet, earthy perfume of decomposing leaves mingled with the resinous scent of pine sap. It filled your lungs with freshness, carrying a hint of wildflowers mixed with damp soil. When inhaled through your lips, the forest air tasted clean and slightly sweet; it had hints of mint from nearby wild herbs.

  This was how Zihan’s senses felt every day, but it was a pity he was too busy training to enjoy the experience. ”Get up,” Zhu Liu Shi commanded, his voice cutting through the air.

  Zihan raised his head, hope flickering in his eyes. The swordsman’s face remained impassive, revealing nothing of his thoughts. “If you wish to follow me, know this: the path I walk is soaked in blood. It demands sacrifice. Are you prepared for such a journey?”

  Zihan nodded with determination. “I am.”

  “Very well," Zhu Liu Shi said. He turned and began walking away. “Come then.”

  Zihan scrambled to his feet, hurrying after his master. He reset his feet and brought his sword back up. He didn’t move, as he realised that his master was ready to say something. “Zihan, your footwork is too rigid,” he started. “You must move like water, not stone.”

  “Yes, Master.” Zihan adjusted his stance, trying to distribute his weight as instructed.

  “Yes master, yes master. That’s all you say. Why, why do you wish to learn the sword?”

  It was an unexpected question, one that cut through the night air. Zihan paused, the branch-sword hanging loosely in his hand. He didn’t know whether to tell his master the truth or lie. I can’t lie, he thought, master will know…he always knows.

  “There’s a man I want to kill.”

  Zhu Liu Shi scoffed and shook his head. Zihan’s heart sank, but the longer he looked at his master, the more he realised there was a hint of approval in his face. Then his lips curled into a devious smile. “There are easier ways to kill; mastering the sword isn’t the only way.”

  “The man is a martial artist. I don’t want to just kill him, master” Zihan said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want him to know that I’ve surpassed him in martial prowess as well!”

  The swordsman nodded, understanding what Zihan’s intension was. “…and who is this man who has earned such hatred?”

  “Zhao Xing.” The name tasted bitter on Zihan’s tongue. “He killed my father.”

  Zhu Liu Shi’s raised his eyebrow, surprised. It left Zihan shocked. This was the first time he’d even seen the man genuinely surprised. “Shredding Claw Xing?” he asked.

  “I don’t know him by that name, but he is the Sect Master of the Purple Mist Sect.”

  “Purple Mist Sect?” Zhu Liu Shi asked, “He runs a sect?”

  “Yes, master, the sect is located within the Sichuan Province, Purple Mist Valley. Six days' ride from Sichuan City.”

  “Understood.”

  “Do you know him, Master?"

  “I know of him,” Zhu Liu Shi scoffed. “He’s known for his menacing claw style, Shredding Tiger Claws. A style famed for ripping iron to shreds.”

  “I see…” Zihan said, clenching his hands fists. He felt as though he was about to be smothered by an invisible force.

  A force that was Zhao Xing.

  All those years ago, he was hiding in the bush when his father appeared with that demoness child, Zhao Li. In a flash, her father Zhao Xing appeared out of nowhere and struck his father in the chest with a claw strike, killing him instantly.

  Zihan stayed silent, but in his heart. He screamed, he screamed till his heart couldn’t take it. It was as if his heart was singing cries of loss and pain. Zihan hated that day; he hated how it would revisit him when he least expected it.

  …and today was one of those days.

  Stay focused, he muttered to himself, Stay. Focus.

  Zihan gripped the wooden stick tightly, his knuckles turning white as he began swinging it once more, as Zhu Liu Shi had instructed. The swordsman walked beside him. “Your sword has weight, Zihan… I can feel your emotion in each swing. You aren’t striking to kill; you are striking to vent. That will get you killed.”

  He clenched his jaw, adjusting his stance, then forced himself to focus. This time around, his movements were more controlled, his slashes sharper, but his mind kept returning to Zhao Xing—his father’s murderer. The scene blossomed in his mind, vividly.

  “I was trying to save the child, Master Xing!” his father begged. The little demoness cried out as Xing dashed toward her. He turned to face his father, Hodong, who kowtowed to Xing.

  “Why did you take her?” Xing asked his father softly. “She’s just a child. She’s done nothing to draw your ire. Why did you take her?”

  The monster showed more care for the demoness than anyone else. Zihan could hear the agony in Xing’s voice. His father raised his head.

  “Doesn’t she deserve a normal life?” Xing asked him. “Playing with children, running around feeling as though the sky could be hers? DOESN’T SHE DESERVE THAT!”

  “YES OF COURSE THAT’S WHY I TOOK HER!” his father. “Master Jun asked me to! I found her body on the ground next to a maid! PLEASE! BELIEVE! ME!”

  Xing shook his head, laughing dryly whilst he shook his head. An exchange took place he couldn't hear, but the next thing he saw was a wistful light beaming from Xing’s hand. He then struck his father in the chest three times. Then, he crushed his throat with a kick, watching him flail on the ground. “Die a slow and painful death…you bastard.”

  Those memories horrified Zihan, but they were too vivid in his mind. I must kill Zhao Xing, he muttered; killing him will make these memories disappear.

  A jolt of pain surged from Zihan’s hand. He hissed from the pain, then looked to his left, realising Zhu Liu Shi had slapped the branch-like sword from his hand. “You’ve lost your concentration, Zihan…do the sword stances, again.”

  He exhaled sharply then repeated the motion that Zhu Liu Shi had taught. His form improved, but not enough for Zhu Liu Shi satisfaction. The tension in his body was clear. Zhu Liu Shi slid behind Zihan, then hooked his foot behind Zihan’s ankle. Zihan fell over sprawling onto his back. The branch clattered beside him. Before he could react, then Zhu Liu Shi buried his foot into his chest.

  “You need to be able to sense and control everything around you. You have five senses; use all of them. Or this revenge you have mind…will kill you.” He said in a stoic tone. “I’ll tell you something my master told me. Revenge is a blade. If you wield it recklessly, it will turn against you.”

  “I understand, Master,” Zihan said, gritting his teeth and nodding. Zhu Liu Shi removed his foot and extended a hand. Zihan took it, pulling himself up, his anger simmering but controlled. He picked up the branch and resumed his drills, this time with more precision.

  “Good…but tell me What prompted you to leave?” Zhu Liu Shi asked, squinting at the young man, then wrinkled his nose.

  “My mother’s death…” he said hesitatingly, “plus I did something that would cause my death.”

  “Plus?… What did you do?”

  “I pushed Zhao Xing’s demoness daughter into the lake and fled.”

  A cold draft crackled around Zihan, making the hair on the back of his neck rise immediately. Black aura began to swirl around Zhu Liu Shi as he turned to face Zihan. The energy began to seep from his body like mist, and as much as Zihan wanted to run and hide, he couldn’t.

  He froze in fear.

  He stepped back without thought, but Zhu Liu Shi vanished. Something clamped itself around his left shoulder, making him hiss from the pain. He tilted his head up to the left to see what it was, and none other than Zhu Liu Shi stared down at him with pupil-less eyes. “You killed an innocent? In your petty revenge?” he growled.

  “She was the rea—“ he hissed, but the pain in his shoulder shot down his arm, forcing him to his knees. “Master,” he pleaded.

  “I should kill you now!”

  “She was a demoness, Master… an Axsumite!”

  “What... an Axsumite?” Zhu Liu Shi hissed in disgust.

  He loosened his grip Zihan's shoulder, but he continually swirled his Qi. His pupil-less eyes narrowed as he processed this new information.

  “An Axsumite?” He repeated. “…Are you sure this child was an Axsumite?” The swordsman’s voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper.

  Zihan nodded frantically, still on his knees. “Yes, Master. Dark skin, wavy hair—just like the stories tell. Zhao Xing called her his daughter, but everyone knows what she truly is!”

  Zhu Liu Shi released him entirely and stepped back, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. His aura receded slightly as he paced in a tight circle.

  “Six years ago...” he muttered, more to himself than to Zihan. “We scoured the Red River hunting for a ship that brought Axsumites from beyond the Barren Lands, but all we found were dead bodies.”

  Zihan rubbed his shoulder, watching his master cautiously. “Master?”

  Zhu Liu Shi stopped pacing and fixed Zihan with a penetrating stare. “How old is this child?”

  “…Six,” Zihan answered, slowly rising to his feet.

  The swordsman’s brow furrowing. “Six? We killed the roy…no…this doesn’t make sense. Any Axsumite found outside of Faizou are killed on sight!”

  “What?” Zihan said confused.

  “Faizou has Axsumites slaves. If any slave are found outside of Faizou are killed on sight. It is highly unlikely that a martial arts master would break in and kidnap an Axsumite child of his own accord.”

  Unless his stumbled across a burning ship with an Axsumite child on it.

  “Zihan, does Zhao Xing have relations with one in Faizou?”

  “Not that I’m aware of master.”

  “…I see,” Zhu Liu Shi murmured. “I’ll have to investigate this…”

  I can’t let the prince know of this…I have to find out first.

  “Does he truly treat the child as he his own?” Zhu Liu Shi asked.

  “Yes, Master. He treats her as his own blood. It’s... unnatural.”

  Zhu Liu Shi's lips curled into a thin smile. “Zhao Xing is considered a hero within the jianghu. His reputation is without blemish. For him to harbor an Axsumite...”

  The swordsman fell silent again, lost in thought. When he spoke next, his tone had changed completely.

  “You may have done well, Zihan,” he said, causing the young man to blink in surprise. “Your act, while motivated by petty revenge, may have revealed something far more significant.”

  “Master?”

  The swordsman placed a hand on Zihan’s shoulder this time almost gently. “Tell me everything you know about this child. Every detail, no matter how insignificant it seems."

  Zihan straightened and spilled his guts. He told him everything. He told him how Zhao Xing arrived with Old Man Xiabo Jun. He told him about Kai Chen and the Stone Bear Band were killing everyone within the valley, fashioning themselves as rulers of the land.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He begrudgingly admitted that Zhao Xing was a savior, but he didn’t care for that. The man had killed his father. He explained in fine detail how his father died the night of Kai Chen’s failed takeover of the valley.

  He told him that Zhao Li lived with the Jiang Clan, the effective rulers of the valley and how she was hated on. How Zhao Li was spurned, he told him how she caught her by the lake and shoved her in.

  “You did nothing wrong, Zihan,” Zhu Liu Shi finally said after hearing everything, “but we must proceed carefully. Your desire for revenge against Zhao Xing has merit, but I serve someone bigger. I serve the next Emperor of Huaxia.”

  Zihan fell silent, unable to say anything. Did he hear correctly? He did. Master serves the new Emperor? He asked himself in disbelief.

  “M…m..master”

  “We’re heading there right now, don’t worry. In the coming years, if you prove yourself, you will prove yourself worthy.”

  “Master.”

  A thin smile flashed across Zhu Liu Shi’s face. “First, you will master the sword. Then, we will pay a visit to the Purple Mist Valley. But not for the reasons you sought, initially."

  He fixed Zihan with a stern gaze. “We train even harder, starting from tomorrow. Be prepared for pain unlike anything you've experienced. The path ahead demands nothing less.”

  Zihan bowed deeply. “Yes, Master.”

  A week later, they approached Xi’an, a sprawling city nestled beneath the shadow of towering mountains. Unlike the chaotic towns they had passed through, this one seemed orderly, with guards patrolling its high walls.

  Night fell over the forest, casting long shadows across the ground; Zhu Liu Shi sat alone beneath a gnarled oak tree. His expression was troubled as he gazed at the stars.

  Only a few weeks passed and he and Zihan had finally arrived in Xi’an, the city in which they arrived at Prince Zhenjin’s residence. He turned to Zihan and handed him his sword. “Take it.” He grunted.

  Zihan hesitated, then took it when he saw the grim look his master gave him. It was both a test and a sign of trust. He carried the weapon carefully, the weight of it was unfamiliar yet oddly reassuring.

  “The Summer Palace,” Zhu Liu Shi said softly, looking out at the city of Xi’an. “The Prince of Wu’s residence lies at its heart.”

  “The Prince of Wu?” Zihan asked, hurrying to keep pace with his master's long strides.

  “Yes, the next Emperor of Huaxia.” Zhu Liu Shi’s tone made Zihan wary. “He is my patron. And perhaps, one day, yours as well.”

  They entered the city through the eastern gate, Zhu Liu Shi’s presence earning respectful nods from the guards. The streets were clean and neat. This was a big change from the chaos that had taken over much of Huaxia after the imperial family fell.

  “The Prince maintains order within his territories,” Zhu Liu Shi explained, noting Zihan’s surprise. “He understands that chaos serves no one in the long term.”

  As they made their way through the city, they eventually reached a magnificent compound at its center. High walls surrounded gardens and pavilions, with armed guards stationed at regular intervals.

  “Wait here,” Zhu Liu Shi instructed as they reached the ornate main gate. “Practice your forms.”

  He handed Zihan a wooden practice sword—a real one this time, not just a branch. Zihan accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly.

  Left alone in the courtyard, Zihan began practicing the basic forms his new master had taught him. The wooden sword felt heavy in his hands, but he welcomed the weight, the solidity of it. With each swing, he imagined it was Zhao Xing standing before him. The memory of his father's death replayed in his mind, fueling each strike with growing hatred.

  Slash. Parry. Thrust.

  He saw Zhao Xing’s face and heard his cold laughter.

  Slash. Parry. Thrust.

  His father’s blood is spreading across the floor.

  Slash. Parry. Thrust.

  The gentle terraces of Prince Zhenjin’s Summer Garden Palace rose like a jeweled crown. They overlooked the vast steppes and stretched against the endless blue sky. Its sweeping roofs of jade-green tiles curved upward at the corners. It was adorned with golden finials that caught sunlight. It seemed to set the entire structure ablaze at dawn and dusk. The main hall rose three stories high. It was surrounded by smaller pavilions linked by covered walkways. The outside walls shone in bright vermilion. They featured detailed gold leaf designs that showed scenes from ancient legends.

  The interior of The Summer Palace could rival those of the Dragon Palace, Bone Palace, and the Winter Palace. Its exterior was splendid. Polished hardwood floors gleamed like mirrors. Above, ceilings displayed celestial maps in gold and lapis lazuli. Carved sandalwood and mother-of-pearl screens divide the large rooms. They create cozy spots for quiet thought or chat among courtiers. The smell of incense mixes with the sweet scent of rare flowers in fine porcelain vases. Sunlight streams through the windows, creating patterns on the rich furniture.

  The palace gardens were a beautiful mix of nature and design. Here, the lines between wild and tended plants blend seamlessly, creating a stunning harmony. Weeping willows hang their gentle branches over fake lakes. Golden carp swim below the floating lilies. Boulders from distant mountains create small landscapes. They show off nature's beauty at a great cost. Meanwhile, neatly trimmed pines stand like quiet guardians across the grounds.

  At night, the Summer Garden Palace transformed into a realm of enchantment. Thousands of paper lanterns lit along the pathways, suspended from eaves as their warm glow reflected off the still waters of the lakes.

  Zhu Liu Shi made his way through the palace, walking through the hallways and pavilions; he made his way to the main hall. He told one of the guards he was to be expected, and the guard scampered off.

  He stood there for a half hour before finally being let in by the other guard.

  He made his way inside the grand hall and noticed the renovations. The hall had six pillars, three on each side with carvings of dragons, turtles, phoenixes, and tigers on them. Now…it had eight, meaning that the renovation meant the entirety of the grand hall was torn down.

  The floor had a golden mat that extended from the entrance right up to the elevated stairs. At the sides of the hall, red drapes with gold-embroidered trimmings swayed back and forth.

  Zhu Liu Shi knelt before a man seated on a raised dais. Though not as opulent as the imperial throne, the Prince of Wu’s seat of power carried its own commanding presence.

  “Shi Liu,” Prince Zhenjin huffed as he made his way to his seat. He barked, not bothering to look up.

  Zhenjin flapped his robes before taking a seat at his jade-inlaid desk like a deity descended from the heavens. He wore a golden silk robe that hung open at his chest, revealing pale skin. His hair was black as a raven’s wing, but it was pulled back in a topknot secured with a golden pin shaped like a dragon. On his fingers, he wore jade rings, and a pendant of white jade hung against his exposed chest.

  The Prince was always handsome, but he had changed since their last meeting five moons ago. The lines around his eyes softened, the gray at his temples disappeared, and an unnatural energy filled his movements. He seemed far younger than his forty years. His eyes were still cold and calculating as ever, but now with an inner luminescence that seemed almost otherworldly.

  Zhu Liu Shi stepped into the opulent chamber, his posture relaxed but alert. The air between them crackled with tension.

  “Your Highness,” he said, offering only a shallow bow.

  Prince Zhenjin raised his eyes with a bitter smile. “Shi Liu. Or should I say, the new Zhu of the Black Cauldron? I hear congratulations are in order—though one wonders if Zhu Mo Shi would appreciate your... promotion over his corpse.”

  “My master died for the mission. He killed the Emperor himself.”

  “I’m aware, my people informed me…I’m sure you know this.” The Prince said, his face twisted into a sneer. “You’re sure that the entire Imperial family is dead? I’ve heard whispers that someone escaped the city when Longyan was on lockdown.”

  “Did Minister Song report how many people broke through the lockdown?”

  The air stifled instantly, mimicking the prince’s mood. Zhu Liu Shi knew the prince hated being questioned, but he also knew that his question was more than valid enough. He didn’t have time to deal with leaks from within the Imperial Capital; that was the councilor's job. His job was ensuring the imperial family was dead.

  They were.

  “We did as you asked, Prince. We murdered the imperial family. Shi Jiu and I mopped up the first, second, and third princes along with the emperor’s wives and concubine. Their blood is on my hands.”

  Prince Zhenjin waved his hand in a dismissive manner at a servant who poured tea exclusively for himself. “…And the evidence?”

  “My word is all the evidence required.”

  “Hooo…you speak to me as if I were some rabble on the street.”

  “My Prince, if the lack of patience in my words offends you, I’m sure your bodyguards would take me down within a half heartbeat. The moment you tire of hearing my voice,” Zhu Liu Shi said, turning to the wall.

  A man was within the wall, his bolt-shot arrow aimed at him. He didn’t care; he’d sensed all six of them within the walls the moment he stepped into the grand hall. The worst part was he never planned to leave the grand hall alive; he knew the Prince all too well, shrewd in everything he did.

  The Prince harrumphed, then sipped his tea. He sat there studying Zhu Liu Shi over the rim of his porcelain cup. “The Council of Ministers meets tomorrow to select the next emperor."

  Zhu Liu Shi raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked, confused. “You plan to go along with this farce?”

  “I must. I can’t have Minister Song being too pushy. It must seem fair. “If I seem too eager, they might think I had a role in the imperial family’s fall,” the Prince said firmly. “I will let the selection run its course. Whoever wins, wins.” His lips curved into a cold smile. “But regardless of who’s selected. If I’m not selected, I will be the next Emperor after.”

  Before Zhu Liu Shi could say anything, as if he had something to say. The Prince tossed a folded letter across the desk. Zhu Liu Shi caught it with skill and opened it, furrowing his brow.

  “This is an Axsuminian.”

  “It is,” Prince Zhenjin said firmly, then tossed another letter. This one was written in flowing Huaxian script. It wasn't addressed, merely a correspondence between an unknown party and the Emperor. Zhu Liu Shi scanned its contents, his eyes narrowing slightly as he read.

  Dear Brother,

  I hope all is well with you.

  I express my deepest remorse for involving you in this precarious situation. Please know that if there were any other path forward, I would have taken it without hesitation.

  The shadows have grown longer these past months. There have been eight assassination attempts on my life. I find myself jumping at every unexpected sound, suspicious of even the most familiar faces. This is no way to live, but more importantly, it is no way for my daughter to grow up.

  My heart, Damidele, deserves a childhood free from fear. Her innocent eyes should not have to witness the dangers that now surround us daily. It is for her sake, more than my own, that I make this desperate request.

  I believe Huaxia will provide her with the sanctuary she needs until I can uncover who stands behind these attempts on my life. I fear another civil war beckons if I cannot identify and neutralize this threat quickly.

  Please keep Damidele safe.

  I remain eternally in your debt.

  “Were there any childlike corpses found at the grave site six years ago?”

  “No, my prince. It was filled with adults Axsumites and the bandits we hired to ambush them till we arrived; I’m not sure if anyone escaped. We would’ve heard of it. Those that escaped would’ve arrived at the Dragon Palace, but we saw no signs of Axsumites there either.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, my prince, I am sure.”

  “I agree with your hypothesis. If they had escaped, word would’ve spread through the empire like wildfire. A huge uproar would’ve taken place…the next viable option would be go in hiding.”

  As Zhu Liu Shi stood there, his mind drifted back to Zihan and his story regarding Zhao Xing and his Axsumite daughter. Could that be the case, he thought ruefully.

  Did Zhao Xing happen across the boat of Axsumites?

  There was that possibility, but the more he thought of it, the more the likelihood of that taking place began to throb in his mind.

  “Something on your mind?” Prince Zhenjin asked.

  “A lot.”

  "Hoo… confident, aren’t you…” he said with a laugh.

  The prince rocked his head back and finished his tea. “I will admit, I appreciate your candor. It makes you easier to deal with… unlike the previous 'Zhu.'”

  “My master was a man of few words. His time in Axsum made him bitter; being betrayed by the Emperor didn’t help either. I have no such baggage.”

  “…we’ll see. Now that everything is going according to plan, I need your help.

  “How may I assist the prince?”

  “Rebuild the Black Cauldron, but under a different name.”

  “I’m to assume you have chosen a name already?”

  “You assumed correctly. The White Flame,” Prince Zhenjin said, eyes gleaming with ambition. “A flame that could never dissipate, unlike the destroyed cauldron of black.”

  “I like it…”

  “As I knew you would.” The prince said. “Begin recruiting. Start with that boy I saw you bring to my gates. I want a force ready within the next five years.”

  “Five years is fast print. It would at least be eight years.”

  “Eight years?”

  “Yes…”

  A coldness washed over the room that made the hair on the back of Zhu Liu Shi stand. He looked at the prince and his lips curled into a knowing smile. It was as if he was testing Zhu Liu Shi. He entered the Divination Realm, but what is his cultivation technique? It seems unnatural. The Qi emanating from him is yin-based.

  “Congratulations, my prince, you’ve entered the Divination Realm.”

  The prince waved him off, turning up his face as he did so. “Aren’t you in the Qi Perception Realm?”

  “I am…”

  "Good, good... I expect great things from you.”

  “As you command, Your Highness.”

  “Dismissed,” Prince Zhenjin said, turning his head around. He turned his neck back toward Zhu Liu Shi and stared at him venomously. “Do not fail me.”

  Zhu Liu Shi walked out of the Summer Hall Palace. Zihan was still practicing in the courtyard. He was not just clumsy; he was getting tired. However, he saw the fire in his head that made him approve of himself for a moment. He’s disciplined, he noted, but discipline isn’t everything. Insight. Intent. Comprehension. All of it mattered.

  “Master,” Zihan called out, not realising that Zhu Liu Shi had been watching for ten minutes without break. “Is everything alright?”

  Zhu Liu Shi nodded with a sly smile. He turned and began walking in the opposite direction but gestured for Zihan to follow. “We have work to do, Zihan.”

  “Yes master.”

  The bustling streets of Xi’an gradually gave way to quieter paths as they headed toward the outskirts of the city. Finally, he stopped at a small teahouse nestled between two ancient cypress trees.

  “Have a seat,” he commanded, gesturing to a worn wooden bench.

  Zihan obeyed right away. The practice session in the courtyard had soaked him in sweat. His muscles trembled with tiredness. Yet, he maintained perfect posture before his master.

  Zhu Liu Shi studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of mountains, he spoke. “Zihan, I will be direct; understood?”

  Confusion aroused on Zihan’s face, then Zhu Liu Shi continued. “You lack the talent for martial arts.”

  The words stung Zihan like a snake bite. His face paled, and his hands clenched into fists on his knees. “Master, I—“

  “Don’t speak, listen,” Zhu Liu Shi said firmly as he raised his hand. “My words aren’t to hurt. They’re observations of what I saw. Your movements lack insight, your strikes lack intent, and your forms lack comprehension. These are not merely technical deficiencies—they are fundamental barriers.”

  Zihan lowered his head, shame burning through him. The dream of revenge that had sustained him these past years suddenly seemed to crumble before his eyes.

  “However,” Zhu Liu Shi continued, causing Zihan to look up sharply, "this isn’t your fault. Beginning the path of martial arts at the age of twelve is... challenging. But not impossible?”

  Zihan’s eyes lit with desperate hope. “It will be difficult, perhaps exceedingly so, but not impossible. You are years behind where you should be. The basics that many kids learn—like breathing, stances, and energy flow—may feel new to your body.”

  The master stood, pacing the small area before the bench. “For the next two years, you will learn nothing of swords or advanced techniques. Instead, you will rebuild yourself from the ground up. You will learn to breathe properly, to stand properly, and to move properly. Only when these become as natural as blinking will we proceed further.”

  “Two years just for basics?” Zihan couldn't hide his dismay.

  “Two years to correct what should have been instilled at the age of eight,” Zhu Liu Shi corrected. “Your body must be reconditioned, your mind reshaped. Martial arts are not just about strength or speed. It’s about finding harmony between intent and action and between thought and movement.

  He stopped pacing and faced Zihan directly. “After these two years, I will test you. If I am satisfied with your progress, only then will I determine whether you can truly attain the level necessary for your revenge.”

  “And if I fail?” Zihan asked quietly.

  Zhu Liu Shi's eyes hardened. “Then I suggest you find another path to your vengeance. There are many ways to kill a man, Zihan. The sword is but one of them.”

  A heavy silence fell between them. In the distance, the sounds of the city hummed like a forgotten melody.

  “I understand, Master,” Zihan finally said, straightening his back. “I will not fail.”

  “Do not make promises you cannot keep,” Zhu Liu Shi warned. “Instead, show me through action. Beginning tomorrow at dawn, your real training begins… And Zihan?”

  “Yes, Master?”

  “Discard your hatred for now. It clouds your judgment and stiffens your movements. There will be enough time for hatred when you have earned the right to wield it.”

  With those words hanging in the air, Zhu Liu Shi continued walking, leaving Zihan alone with his thoughts and the long path ahead.

  No that things have changed, i am going through the other half of the book as we speak, arranging and re-aranging, changing and cementing plotlines for this particular book. I've also began revising books 1 and 2 simultaneously to tighten certain aspects that felt hollow to me, i'm a stickler for being a perfectionist. However, i will admit, i haven't used an editing program in a long time because for some reason they changed too much of my sentences which was infuriating.

  Gatts``