The Arrow Was Nocked

Just past the hour of the Snake, Li Tui went to the kitchen to fetch the medicinal meal.

As he passed the courtyard in the southwest corner, its gate was shut tight. Through the wall came ragged panting and the dull thud of fists striking something hard.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Each blow came faster than the last, making his teeth ache.

He slowed his steps, about to leave, when the gate creaked open.

Zhao Wen walked out.

He wore only a pair of trousers, his upper body bare. His skin was an unnatural, damp red, as if he had just been lifted from a steamer. There wasn't a patch of uninjured flesh on his chest or arms; bruises overlapped with torn skin, and blood mixed with sweat in a glistening smear. He went to the water vat in the corner of the courtyard, scooped up a full ladle of cold water, and poured it over his head without even blinking.

"Splash!"

Water streaked with blood ran down his lean spine and spread into a small dark patch on the dirt.

He raised a hand to wipe his face, droplets falling from the ends of his hair. When he looked up, his eyes met Li Tui's.

His gaze was vacant, unfocused.

Zhao Wen stared at him for a long while, then suddenly bared his teeth in a grin.

It was brief, hardly moving a muscle in his face, yet it carried the ruthless determination of someone ready to stake his life.

Then he turned and went back into the courtyard. The gate slammed shut behind him, and a moment later the heart-stopping blows began again, faster and heavier than before.

The instant their eyes met, the Treasure Mirror, dormant for so long, sent out an extraordinarily clear pulse. Then it quickly sank back into silence.

Li Tui lowered his eyes, stood there for a moment, then turned and left.

At the hour of the Goat, Li Tui carried the medicinal meal back to the main courtyard.

In the training room, Zhao Yuanchong was still struggling against the ironwood post. His palm strikes whooshed through the air, but his breathing was unsettled and his form unsteady. After all, he had only just opened his Qihai acupoint, and his true qi still wouldn't obey him.

After finishing a set of palm techniques, he stopped, panting, and took the bowl of medicine. He drained it in one go, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then suddenly asked, "Did you see Zhao Wen?"

"I did," Li Tui replied.

"What... did he look like?" Zhao Yuanchong's voice tightened.

"He was training," Li Tui answered briefly. "He was giving it everything he had."

Zhao Yuanchong gripped the empty bowl, his knuckles turning white. He stared at the bottom of it for a long while before forcing out the words, "Ranxue Pill... I heard Uncle Sheng mention it. Once you swallow that stuff, it's like your internal organs have been seared with red-hot irons. There's almost no chance of surviving." He paused, his voice dropping lower, unable to hide his agitation.

"They gave him that... They really don't intend to leave him any way out?"

He abruptly set the bowl down on the table. It struck with a sharp clack.

"What is Father trying to do?" He seemed to be asking Li Tui, yet also himself. His eyes reddened. "Drive each of us... to this point?"

Li Tui lowered his eyes and said nothing. He heard the anger and chill in Zhao Yuanchong's words.

Zhao Yuanchong didn't seem to expect an answer. He drew a deep breath, then took up his stance again. His palm strikes came faster and harder, each one making the wooden post shudder.

At the hour of the Dog, Zhao Yuanchong finally stopped, utterly spent.

He leaned against the cold wall, his chest heaving. Every breath dragged harshly against his throat.

His outstretched hands were a bloody mess, flesh stuck to splinters, but he seemed not to feel the pain. He stared fixedly at the ruin of his palms.

He took the Pulse-Protecting Pill Li Tui handed him and swallowed it whole. Only after regulating his breath for a while did he speak in a hoarse voice. "What about Zhao Hao?"

"He was practicing his sword on the west side of the Martial Arts Arena this afternoon."

"How was he?"

"His sword wind was too fast to make out his moves," Li Tui answered truthfully. "All I could hear was the sound of it slicing through the air, one strike after another. A few passing guards caught a glimpse from afar and took a detour."

Zhao Yuanchong fell silent for a moment, then pulled his lips into a humorless curve. "Everyone's going out of their way to avoid him... He really is staking everything." He paused, his voice dropping. "Then again, at this point, who would hold anything back?"

As he spoke, he took the jade box from inside his robe again.

"Young Master," Li Tui reminded him, "you've already taken your allotted dose for today."

"I know." Zhao Yuanchong stared at the two remaining Qi-Condensing Powders in the box, running a fingertip over one of the pills. "But when Father gave Zhao Wen the Ranxue Pill, did he leave anyone room to hold back?"

He picked up one pill and held it beneath the dim yellow lamplight. His bloodshot eyes were reflected in its lustrous white surface.

"Losing on the platform would only make me a laughingstock. But if Father thinks... I can't even beat that madman Zhao Wen..." His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice turned hoarse with strain. "Then in his eyes, I'll truly be a worthless piece."

Before the words had left his mouth, he had already shoved both pills in at once and tipped his head back to force them down.

"Ugh!"

Zhao Yuanchong doubled over violently, both hands digging into the ground. His skin flushed crimson in an instant, veins bulging grotesquely beneath it.

His teeth ground together with a grating sound, the veins at his temples throbbing wildly. A beastlike growl scraped out of his throat, but he stubbornly refused to collapse, frantically guiding the two torrents of medicinal power—power that threatened to tear his meridians apart—toward his Danzhong acupoint, forcing them to crash against it!

Li Tui stood at the doorway, watching the figure tremble in agony yet refuse to crumple.

The air filled with the intoxicating fragrance of pills, mingled with the tang of fresh blood.

The Blood Bodhi in Li Tui's chest began to throb with sudden, ravenous intensity, as if it had caught the most tempting scent of all: the smell of life burning in the face of utter desperation.

The bowstring had been drawn to its limit.

And with the arrow nocked, there was no choice but to let it fly.