Senior Brother

The events that followed were nothing worth mentioning.

Vice Envoy Yao took everyone to a deep pool in a ravine behind Xuanming Manor and ordered them to wash off the dust. Afterward, they were each given a set of identical dark gray clothes.

The clothes were similar to those worn by the special group of boys and girls An Jing had seen earlier, though these were even plainer.

Next came the registry.

"An Jing, Gufeng County, Xuanque Prefecture, Hanbei Province. Bone age: eleven..."

"Xia Li, Hanhai Prefecture, Hanhai Province. Bone age: twelve..."

"Tang Yuanding, Laifeng City, Liuguang Prefecture, Hanbei Province. Bone age: nine..."

With his eyes lowered at the front, An Jing silently memorized every name and detail as they were called out, analyzing where each person came from.

Most of the children and teenagers Xuanming Manor had gathered came from north of Hanhai, where the Frost Calamity had struck. The most distant among them was a girl named Bai Qinghan, from Hannan Province, one of the three provinces around Hanhai.

She had probably suffered through something other than the Frost Calamity. She had been born during the Hanhai Demon Calamity nearly ten years ago and had struggled to survive ever since.

The registry listed 248 people. The five who weren't included were the black-robed boys and girls An Jing had spotted at the beginning. They had already been taken away.

By the time the registry was complete, dusk was approaching. It was time for dinner.

The evening meal Xuanming Manor had prepared was simple: a large bowl each of millet and a strange bean mash mixed with a strong medicinal taste, along with three flatbreads brushed with oil and salt.

Simple, but everyone ate with relish. Once the steward announced that dinner was ready, the dining hall fell silent except for the sounds of eating.

After all, they had endured more than a year of disaster, scraping by on tree bark and grass roots along the way. They had then spent more than ten bumpy days traveling to the manor. How could they possibly complain about such generous portions?

Not to mention, everyone also received a pot of meatball soup. Three white meatballs bobbed in the oily broth inside a brown earthenware pot, looking especially appetizing. An Jing scooped one up with his spoon and took a bite. The long-missed taste of meat filled his mouth, its springy texture savory and delicious. He couldn't stop eating.

Even An Jing had no time to think about anything else while he was eating. Only after he had finished and a servant led him to his lodgings did he come to his senses.

Xuanming Manor was quite skilled at winning people over.

Standing before his bamboo bed, An Jing looked back at the manor's buildings beneath the moonlight, deep in thought.

For most of the children who had been bought, people had just rescued them from disaster, treated their ailments, and taken them far from home after a long, exhausting journey. Their hearts were uneasy.

Then they had arrived at this secret manor, isolated from the world. They were at their most vulnerable and sensitive, and needed someone to lean on more than ever.

Xuanming Manor had bathed them and changed them into new clothes, washing away their exhaustion, panic, and fear. Giving them identical outfits had also fostered a shared sense of belonging.

Finally, the registry had given them the feeling of being recognized, while the plentiful food—and a little meat—deepened their gratitude.

At the thought, An Jing couldn't help but marvel. "Only because I have Past Life Wisdom and a suspicious nature... But even I have a good impression of Xuanming Manor. A very good one."

"After all, they really did spend money to treat our illnesses and buy us food. So far, none of us boys and girls have been abused or mistreated, and the food, drink, and clothes are all beyond reproach... I see."

At that moment, An Jing understood.

When he was young, he had never been able to stomach the many "deadly fighters" and "hidden agents" in the tales and novels he read. He could never understand where their loyalty came from. How could they remain so devoted to their masters while lying in wait in the shadows?

But now, he was beginning to understand. If Xuanming Manor kept raising these boys and girls this way, every one of them would become an absolutely loyal retainer once they came of age.

Lying in wait in the shadows? So what? Even if Xuanming Manor really was some unorthodox sect, that wouldn't get in the way of their loyalty.

They would see the world's wariness, loathing, and suspicion of Xuanming Manor as slander. From the bottom of their hearts, they would believe that Xuanming Manor was unquestionably in the right.

The worse Xuanming Manor's reputation grew outside, the angrier these children—who had received its kindness and fully embraced their identities as its disciples—would become. They would refine themselves like pure crystal, becoming the true foundation of Xuanming Manor!

That was assuming Xuanming Manor was an unorthodox sect. If it were a renowned orthodox sect, it would be even easier to make people willing to die for it, to sacrifice themselves for the greater good!

"Mm..."

With his mouth full, An Jing didn't feel he could say much. Recalling the taste of the meat in the earthenware pot, he smacked his lips and muttered, "All right, then. One serving of meat for one day's work."

Because of his temperament and his Past Life Wisdom, An Jing knew that he probably wouldn't be able to give anyone his absolute loyalty in this life.

But if the pay and benefits were good enough...

He could be a loyal retainer, too!

Xuanming Manor separated the children by sex and gave each of them an individual space.

It was a long, narrow dormitory, almost like one big shared room, but bamboo partitions separated everyone.

The room was tiny, with space for only a bed and a little room to stretch out his legs. But this cramped environment actually made the disaster-stricken children feel safer. After sleeping under the open sky for so long, they would rather huddle in a warm little space of their own than face the wind and rain.

An Jing couldn't help thinking of capsule hotels. He had no idea what a capsule hotel was, but all kinds of images appeared in his mind, giving him an intimate understanding of those unfamiliar concepts.

That was the Past Life Wisdom he had possessed since childhood. An Jing's Past Life Wisdom and mature way of thinking were what allowed him to protect himself despite all the dangers he faced.

For now, he'd better get some sleep.

He was already exhausted, and he knew that getting more rest and recovering his strength was better than analyzing Xuanming Manor's methods of cultivating loyal disciples.

He lay down on the bed, pulled the blanket over himself, and fell into a deep sleep.

For a while, Xuanming Manor did nothing at all. Instead, it let the more than two hundred children who had survived calamity settle into a routine, recover their health and digestion, and acclimate to the mountain's water and soil.

They claimed to be an ancient hidden lineage. Their living conditions were too harsh, they said; it was difficult to recruit ordinary disciples when they had to live for so long in the depths of the mountains. To preserve their tradition, they went around buying orphans and refugees who could endure such a life.

The explanation was quite flimsy. If they had given it at the refugee camp, or when the children had first arrived at the manor, anyone who believed it would have had to be a fool.

But Xuanming Manor had already taken care of everyone, giving the boys and girls a good night's sleep, regular meals with meat, and new clothes. They hadn't been sold into slavery or beaten and abused.

With the facts to back them up, the children would believe whatever they said.

From An Jing's perspective, Xuanming Manor was like one enormous, closed training camp.

Every morning, the manor gathered all the children. Their riders acted as instructors, teaching them a simple martial routine to build their strength. In the afternoon, they taught the children to read and write, then had physicians examine their health.

The martial arts were far inferior to the techniques passed down in An Jing's family, but they did build strength. An Jing had only studied the basics of his family's Martial Classic, so learning some other techniques couldn't hurt.

As for literacy, they read an ancient scripture of Heavenly Fate called the Huangtian Sutra. It wasn't some text meant to brainwash them; it mainly taught reverence for the Emperor, respect for Heaven's Will, and the offering of sacrifices to Heaven. It was widely circulated throughout Da Chen.

They had a meal after practicing martial arts, and another after their evening reading. An Jing suspected the food was some kind of medicinal cuisine. He could feel his body rapidly recovering and growing stronger with the combination of medicinal food and plenty of sleep. His gaunt frame was filling out, too.

This routine continued for half a month. By then, everyone was in far better spirits than when they had first entered the manor. Every child except An Jing had fully embraced their identity as a "disciple of Xuanming Manor."

Even cautious An Jing had begun to think the place was pretty good.

Eat, sleep, read, and practice martial arts every day. What a pampered life!

For many of the others, life here was far better than it had been at home before the Frost Calamity. They had begun to see Xuanming Manor as their real home.

Meanwhile, An Jing gradually grew familiar with the other boys and girls.

For one thing, An Jing had practiced martial arts and could read. He was also the most talented among them, so instructors and teachers occasionally called him up to demonstrate movements or recite scripture for the others. They would then reward him and praise him.

For another, An Jing really did stand out.

When they had first arrived at the manor, everyone had been so emaciated they were little more than skin and bones, making it impossible to see what they really looked like.

Even then, though, An Jing's presence had been enough to suppress everyone's misgivings. Only a few had harbored resentment.

As everyone gradually regained their health, An Jing's appearance returned to its former glory.

Creation had poured its blessings into him; he was striking and gifted. That was how he had looked before. But after a year spent wandering and personally killing many wicked men, even his smile carried a hint of danger, like a mountain leopard—graceful and bloodthirsty.

Even Manor Master Yao repeatedly marveled at how An Jing's appearance could make anyone regard him more highly the moment he stood in front of them, without saying a word.

An Jing was outwardly grateful for Xuanming Manor's arrangements, but inwardly he analyzed them calmly.

He knew this was a way to win him over with little effort. They were encouraging the best-performing child, who also looked the part, to naturally see himself as "one of Xuanming Manor's own" and the "Senior Brother." That would give him a strong sense of belonging and help draw in the other children, building a sense of unity.

It could also spur the other children who couldn't accept falling behind to challenge him and compete for victory.

An Jing himself wasn't proud of the role, but other boys and girls kept gathering around him anyway.

Whether they were drawn by his position as Senior Brother or by his looks, even An Jing couldn't tell.

In any case, all the children in his dormitory now acted with him at the center. Before he knew it, he had truly become something like an older brother to them. He led them whenever they lined up for the dining hall or went to the training ground to practice.

Guiding his junior brothers and sisters in their studies, just like a real Senior Brother, made it all too easy to let his guard down.

But all of that was only a prelude.

Xuanming Manor was, after all, a sect that passed down the Martial Dao. It couldn't really let them eat and drink for free and live like pampered young masters.

Soon, the grueling formal training began.