A Promise of Splendid Future

Someone dropped his spear.

Someone started running.

Then everyone ran.

Armor clashed, weapons hit the ground, and footsteps pounded together in a roaring jumble that surged down the street toward the city gates.

The two-hundred-man formation collapsed within a dozen breaths. Only dozens of corpses and discarded shields and spears remained in the street.

Fang Yuan did not pursue them.

He stood before Cao Mansion and slowly let out a breath.

"Fang Yuan!"

Eunuch Cao hurried down the stone steps, heedless of the dust gathering on the hem of his python-embroidered robe.

He stopped before Fang Yuan and looked him up and down.

"You remarkable boy! I knew it, I knew it!"

He reached out and clapped Fang Yuan on the shoulder, none too gently.

Han Bao came over too, still carrying his saber, its blade stained with blood he had not wiped away.

He stepped beside Fang Yuan. His lips moved, but he hesitated for two breaths before speaking.

"Fang Yuan... what kind of movement art was that?"

Fang Yuan raised an eyebrow and glanced at him.

"Want to learn it, Brother Han?"

Han Bao gave an awkward laugh, planted his saber on the ground, and rubbed its hilt with his rough fingers.

Even if Fang Yuan was willing to teach him such a skill, an ordinary man probably could not learn it.

Han Bao had watched the whole thing without once looking away, yet he still had not seen how Fang Yuan moved.

He had seen only a figure flicker a few times, and then several commanders across from him had fallen.

This could no longer be called a movement art. Even the immortals and gods in a storyteller's tales were no more impressive.

Fang Yuan did not answer, but another thought began turning in his mind.

Han