A Blade Howled in the Woods

Fan Dazhi was long used to this. He Kui often tested both him and He An. Deep down, he was still a little afraid of He Kui, which was why he had stopped coming to He An's house to play lately.

Sure enough, He Kui sat on the bench, drank a cup of wine, and motioned for the two of them to sit. He asked He An first, "Have you memorized the 'Record of Learning' from the Book of Rites? 'Though there be fine dishes, without tasting them, one cannot know their flavor; though there be a supreme way, without studying it, one cannot know its goodness. Thus, only after learning does one know one's shortcomings, and only after teaching does one know one's difficulties. Knowing one's shortcomings, one can then reflect upon oneself; knowing one's difficulties, one can then strive to improve.' How do you interpret this passage?"

He An thought briefly before answering, "Even with delicious food before us, we cannot know its sweetness without tasting it. Even with profound truths before us, we cannot know their benefits without studying them. So only after learning do we recognize our shortcomings. Once we recognize them, we can reflect on ourselves and spur ourselves onward!"

He Kui nodded slightly and poured another cup of wine. Then he asked Fan Dazhi. Sitting upright, Dazhi steadied himself and said, "Only after learning do we recognize our shortcomings, and only after teaching others do we realize there are things we do not understand. Recognizing our shortcomings drives us to improve. Teaching and learning advance each other. The 'Charge to Yue' in the Book of Documents says that teaching others is half of learning."

He Kui clapped his hands in approval. "Both of you have done very well. Letters carry the Way; martial arts bear witness to it. There is little more I can teach you on the scholarly path, but you must never neglect your martial training either. Show me a round of Cloud-Riding Hand."

Cloud-Riding Hand was a martial art He Kui had created himself, drawing together the strengths of the major sects he knew. It distilled complexity into simplicity yet retained countless variations, its moves exquisitely refined. He An had begun practicing it as his foundation at the age of six. Later, Fan Dazhi often came to play and watched, utterly absorbed, so He Kui taught him as well. By now, both boys had practiced it for eight years.

The two rose, settled into their stances, and lifted their palms into the opening form. In an instant, they were darting, wheeling, leaping, and shifting, stirring wind through the room. The candle on the nearby table flickered, casting He Kui's face alternately into light and shadow.

He Kui sipped his wine and watched through narrowed eyes. Hmm... An's moves are steady and fierce. Every movement carries a bearing all his own, just like his father. Dazhi flows like drifting clouds and running water. Though he lacks imposing force, he has remarkable instinct, often finding unexpected ingenuity in the transitions between moves. Back then, everyone called me a martial prodigy, but Dazhi's natural gifts truly rival mine...

The morning sun rose again, spilling light over the lush green fields. Wisps of cooking smoke curled up beneath Jinping Mountain. Another new day had begun.

With each crow of a rooster, the little village woke like a living creature, stretching its limbs and gradually stirring to life...

Second Master Hu drove a flock of sheep uphill, the animals crowding the village's narrow, winding path...

Auntie Ge scattered a handful of grain in her fenced courtyard, drawing several barred chickens over to peck at it...

Zhang Laoshi the blacksmith picked up a corn bun with the same hand he had just used to empty his chamber pot...

Dragging his crippled leg, He Kui chopped fodder for the old horse in the stable. The shedding horse stamped its forehooves and gave a string of snorts...

Auntie Liu had just washed and starched several feet of blue cloth and hung it on a bamboo pole in the backyard...

Miao Feifei walked to school with He An and Fan Dazhi...

Since it was her first day at the private school, Miao Feifei was especially excited. Rather than taking He An's usual shortcut, the three followed the main road to the outskirts of the village. A dense grove stood there, its shadows dappled by the morning sunlight, birds chirping among the trees.

A figure moved along the road, approaching from a distance. The traveler wore a cloth headwrap, his features still indistinct. A bamboo hat and bundle were strapped to his back, his trouser legs bound with gaiters. He looked travel-worn.

Seeing He An and the others, the man rested one hand on the saber at his waist and raised the other in greeting. "Young friends, is this Watermill Head Village?" His voice carried clearly, full and strong.

He An was about to answer when the noisy woods abruptly fell silent. Wind threaded through the trees, sobbing and howling low, like a wandering spirit weeping. Countless startled birds beat their wings and shot skyward, rising like a black cloud before scattering in panic...

He Kui's hand suddenly paused over the fodder cutter. A light breeze drifted past, brushing his resolute face. His keen senses caught something unusual in the wind. A sharp gleam flashed through his eyes, and the birds streaking across the sky confirmed his judgment. To the southeast, a master of the dao integration realm had appeared.

He Kui vanished from the stable in an instant. A moment later, his figure, crippled leg trailing, appeared at the village ancestral hall. His toe touched a green roof tile at the eaves, and he became a streak of afterimage.

The low, moaning wind in the woods finally revealed its true source. A black-clad man appeared out of nowhere, a gleaming long saber in his hand. It gave a mournful howl as it slashed like lightning toward the man in the headwrap.

The man had drawn his saber only halfway when his body jolted violently and crumpled limply to the ground.

He An watched the black-clad man withdraw his blade, turn, and look toward them. His gaze was sinister and vicious, like that of a rattlesnake fixing on its prey.

The black-clad man raised his saber. Its blade was long, narrow, and bright, the thick, dark-red blood upon it still wet.

Suddenly, a dangerous presence swept toward him. A flicker of alarm crossed the black-clad man's eyes, and he turned to look into the distance. He could distinctly sense that presence, dangerous enough to make his heart quail, approaching at a terrifying speed. It would reach him in only a few breaths.

The black-clad man put away his saber and swept into the woods like a bird, vanishing in an instant.

He An let out a breath and only then realized that Miao Feifei had clamped one hand around his right arm, her nails digging deep into his flesh. Fan Dazhi's face was pale, two of his fingers tightly twisted together.

He An frowned and patted Miao Feifei's arm. He was about to comfort her when his vision blurred, and his uncle He Kui seemed to descend from the sky.

Seeing all three unharmed, the taut lines of He Kui's face visibly eased. The man in the distance lay motionless, facedown on the ground. Dragging his crippled leg, He Kui went over and bent to examine him. When he saw the man's face clearly, his expression changed.

Tan Song, a patrol officer of the Six Fan Gate and one of the Capital’s Four Great Constables, lay in a pool of blood, killed by a single stroke.

He Kui stared sharply into the dense woods opposite him. The killer had concealed his presence and hurried away just moments ago... Why had Tan Song come here? What lead had he been pursuing to draw an assassination by a master of the dao integration realm? Had he discovered I was living here in seclusion? Had he come to tell me some secret?

Question after question surfaced in He Kui's mind. After a brief moment of thought, he told He An and the others to hurry to the private school and inform Instructor Fang of everything that had happened. Above all, they must tell no one that he had been at the scene.

Watching the three leave, He An considered that reporting directly to the authorities might drag too many people into the affair. Instructor Fang came from the Knowledge and Practice Institute in Capital Luoyang. Letting the institute intervene would be the most appropriate course.

The Knowledge and Practice Institute had been founded by State Preceptor Li Xingzhi at the beginning of the Great Chen Empire. Li Xingzhi had formerly been the keeper of the archives at the Hall of Literary View under the previous dynasty, the Great Liang Kingdom, and had read widely through the books of the realm. After his father died, he returned home for Ding You. He could not stomach the court's harsh policies or the oppression of the common people by local officials and gentry.

Li Xingzhi and Zhao Zhen, the Salt-Administration Commandant of Pujiang County in Chengdu Commandery, in the Shu Region, felt like old friends from their first meeting. They talked through the night, debating the state of the realm. Believing Emperor Rui of Great Liang to be muddleheaded and unrighteous, his court rotten and popular resentment boiling over, they gathered provisions, recruited local volunteers, and forged weapons and armor. Heroes from every quarter flocked to join them. In little more than a month, they had rallied tens of thousands.

Li Xingzhi and Zhao Zhen raised the banner of rebellion, overthrew Tyrant Liang, and founded the Great Chen Kingdom.

Afterward, Li Xingzhi organized a lifetime's learning and reflections and founded the Knowledge and Practice Institute. The institute was divided into two branches, Knowing and Doing. The Knowing branch taught subjects such as letters, agriculture, crafts, and mathematics, while the Doing branch focused on martial arts, formations, equipment, and law.

To graduate, disciples of the Knowing branch had to teach for a year at a Worship of Literature Hall or village school somewhere in the Great Chen Kingdom. Disciples of the Doing branch had to spend a year gaining experience in the army.

Instructor Fang's full name was Fang Yizhi, and he had studied at the Knowledge and Practice Institute for three years. He pursued both branches, placing fifth in the Knowing branch's literary examination and among the top eight in the Doing branch's martial examination. His cultivation had already reached the peak of the spirit refinement realm.

Fang Yizhi was a direct disciple of Wei Zhilin, Academy Head of the Knowing branch. As early as the Lesser Cold season, he had come to teach at He An's private school with a letter of recommendation from the Knowledge and Practice Institute. He also taught at the Enlightenment Hall in nearby White Temple Township. Since he gave few lessons, many of the pupils did not know him well.

When He An and the others reached the private school, Fang Yizhi had just returned from the vicinity of White Temple Township. He sat at a long desk in the instructors' room, holding back his robe sleeve with one hand and a brush in the other, writing tiny regular-script characters on the rice paper before him. His handwriting was neat yet possessed an enduring elegance.

After He An finished describing what they had witnessed on the road, Fang Yizhi remained calm and set his brush unhurriedly on a porcelain mountain-shaped brush rest.

Looking up, he saw that the girl among them was still badly shaken, while the plump boy beside her cowered nervously. Only the boy named He An remained composed. Fang Yizhi gently reassured them and told them to go to class, leaving the rest to him.

Fang Yizhi soon reached the scene. Several constables from the county office had already arrived. Three held their saber hilts and warily searched the surroundings, while two crouched on the ground examining something.

The dead man, Tan Song, lay facedown, his half-drawn saber pinned firmly beneath his body. The dark-brown blood beneath him had soaked into the earth. A fatal saber wound crossed his abdomen, and his Dan Foundation had been shattered...

Fang Yizhi's gaze tightened. The killer was from Unknown Island!

Miao Feifei walked with her head lowered, plainly still shaken by the bloody scene that morning. To encounter something like that on her very first day at the private school! She resolved never to tell her mother when she got home, or her mother would object all the more to a girl like her going out in public to study.

Miao Feifei turned to look at He An beside her. His swordlike brows were slightly knitted, his figure tall and slender. Without realizing it, she felt greatly reassured.

Then she looked back at Fan Dazhi behind them. His eyes were lowered, as though he had yet to wake up properly. The plump boy trudged listlessly along and, in a moment of inattention, stumbled over a tree root... Miao Feifei smiled until her eyes curved into crescents.

When He An returned home, He Kui was sitting on the bench as usual, pouring and drinking wine alone. His tousled hair hung loose, and the beard beneath his chin had grown longer. His resolute face faded in and out of the lamplight, but the scar upon it stood out all the more clearly.

"Uncle, that man who was killed today... did you know each other? Were you... before... really powerful?" He An asked tentatively.

"Mm..."

He Kui answered with a heavy grunt.

He An said nothing for a long while, watching He Kui. Finally, unable to hold back, he asked again, "Uncle, how did you really hurt your leg? When I was little, you lied and said you fell off a horse. And... my father and mother... where did they really go?"

He Kui's hand froze around his wine cup. He suddenly tossed back a mouthful, then turned to He An and motioned for him to sit beside him.

He Kui looked at He An, sipped his wine, and said in a low voice, "An, you truly have grown up. I raised you from childhood. Your character is resolute, your will firm. Your uncle... is very proud. The Knowledge and Practice Institute in the capital is recruiting disciples. Instructor Fang thinks highly of you and has recommended you for admission. The old schoolmaster has recommended Dazhi. When the time comes, you can travel there together."

He Kui drank another cup. "Your origins are far too complicated. Your cultivation is still too low, and knowing too much would only harm you. Once you reach the dao integration realm at the Knowledge and Practice Institute in the capital, I will tell you everything. A patrol officer of the Six Fan Gate has died. This place is no longer peaceful."

He Kui took a jade pendant from inside his robe and handed it to He An. "Thirty percent of my power is sealed inside this pendant. In a crisis, you can use it to kill a master at the peak of Dao Union, but it can only be used once. Remember, do not use it lightly unless you have absolutely no other choice."

He Kui rose, stretched his limbs, and sighed. "All right. Ten years... My cultivation has recovered and surpassed what it once was. It is time to meet some old friends and investigate a few things from the past..."

As he finished speaking, He An felt that his uncle's figure seemed to loom like a mountain, his presence overwhelming. He was like a Treasure Sword with its edge fully bared, peerless and standing alone. The pressure caught He An's breath in his throat.