Seeking advice

As they talked, they headed toward the reception hall beside the training ground and took their seats according to host and guest.

A servant served fragrant tea, and Jia Heng promptly thanked him.

Feng Ziying recounted how he had met Jia Heng, then continued, "Father, Brother Jia Heng has only just begun learning archery. His two-shi bow isn't suitable for practice, while a one-shi bow is too light, so I brought him here to choose a bow that suits him."

Feng Tang smiled. "I still have quite a few bows in my storeroom, with all sorts of draw weights. They're gathering dust there now, so you've come at just the right time, lad. Pick one to use for now, and at least a treasure won't languish under dust... Ji Ning, fetch two each of the bows between one and two shi from the storeroom and let the Jia lad choose."

As the distinguished Divine Martial General, he naturally had a sizable collection of fine bows. They had originally been stored away, but their ultimate fate... was really to be given to others.

Jia Heng cupped his hands. "Thank you, Uncle."

Feng Tang smiled. "Why stand on ceremony? Master your archery and kill a few more Tartars for our Great Han in the Northern Borderlands someday, and I'll be the one thanking you."

Jia Heng said resolutely, "Should that day come, killing the enemy and serving my country would only be my duty as a son of Great Han. I wouldn't dare accept your thanks, Uncle."

He truly wasn't catering to Feng Tang's tastes or picking pretty words for his ears. In another eight or ten years, Tartar invaders would ravage the Central Plains, and Han attire would sink into ruin, crushed beneath the iron hooves of an alien people. As a son of the Han, he naturally had to hold up the collapsing heavens!

Pleasure spread over Feng Tang's face at those words. Stroking the black beard beneath his chin, he laughed heartily. "That's what I like to hear, lad!"

They chatted a little longer, and the more Feng Tang saw of Jia Heng, the more he liked him.

Before long, a household officer returned with several servants, bringing six bows in all. He laid them on a long bench and said with a smile, "Master, these two are one shi and five dou, these two are one shi and six dou, and these two are one shi and eight dou."

Feng Tang smiled and looked at Jia Heng. "Give them a try."

Jia Heng nodded and stepped forward, first picking up a one-shi-five-dou bow. It was a mounted archer's bow, neither too stiff nor too soft, its body a deep black and carved with an eagle in relief. Its string was made of treated ox sinew, supple and sturdy.

Under the eyes of Feng Tang, Feng Ziying, and the Feng household officers, Jia Heng kept his expression composed, sank his breath into his lower abdomen, and leveled his arms. He drew the bow into a full moon, an arrow nocked on the string. After aiming at the distant target for a moment, he abruptly released. The bowstring thrummed like a thunderclap, its sound lingering for a long while, but the arrow... missed the target.

Feng Tang's tigerlike eyes gleamed at the sight, and the smile on his firm, square face deepened. "This bow is still too light. Even for practice, it's a little light."

Just as Feng Tang had said, the bow was still somewhat too light for Jia Heng.

Jia Heng drew it a few more times, then put it down.

"Try this one-shi-six-dou bow. I reckon this one should suit you. Once you've developed your archery, moving on to a two-shi bow will be easier." Feng Tang pointed at a bow. As he looked at Jia Heng, his tigerlike eyes already held the warmth and approval he would show a younger member of his own family.

How formidable the Dukes of Ningguo and Rongguo had been in their day! They had led elite cavalry deep into the Great Desert, pursuing fleeing foes and chasing routed armies, securing nearly twenty years of peace along the frontier. He had thought that, after several generations, their descendants had mostly been dazzled by wealth and splendor and lost all their fierce courage. He had never expected such an exception to emerge.

Now that the country's frontier affairs were so troubled, if he could train a cavalry commander for Great Han, why would he begrudge a few bows?

The old general was not thinking about the influence the Jia Family would wield in Great Han's military if they rose again through military merit and gathered their old followers. He felt only the joy of finding talent for the country and passing on the flame.

As instructed, Jia Heng picked up a bow whose entire body was a reddish brown and drew it a few times. Sure enough, just as Divine Martial General Feng Tang had said, it suited him better than the one-shi-five-dou bow.

He then tried drawing a one-shi-eight-dou bow. He could draw it smoothly enough, but he estimated that after thirty or fifty draws, his strength would be spent and he would need to recover.

Knowing that one shi and six dou was probably the most suitable draw weight for his archery practice, Jia Heng turned to Feng Tang and smiled. "Uncle, I'll choose this one."

Stroking his beard, Feng Tang laughed aloud. "Then this one it is! But I'll keep this two-shi bow for you as well. This is the sort of bow a man ought to draw."

As he spoke, he picked up a stiff brown bow carved with a coiled dragon in relief and drew it with effortless ease. The bow curved like a full moon, an arrow nocked on its string. The string cracked like thunder, the arrow struck the bull's-eye, and the ringing note lingered on and on.

Jia Heng's expression turned solemn with respect. "What remarkable arm strength you have, Uncle!"

Feng Tang laughed heartily. "Take this bow with you too."

Feng Ziying looked proud on his father's behalf and smiled. "Father, the Prince of Dongping gave you that Coiled Dragon Bow. You've finally found it an owner."

As they talked, evening drew near. Feng Tang had the kitchen bring out the cooked venison, along with a pot of wine, and they drank as they chatted.

After a few cups of warm wine, they grew flushed and pleasantly tipsy.

Feng Ziying brought up how formidable Jia Heng's fighting skills were, recounting how he had fought one-handed on Ningrong Street late that morning and beaten several vicious servants until they were scrabbling all over the ground for their teeth.

"Father, you didn't see it-the bearing of that opening stance when he fought one-handed, and the way he struck! It was so clean and crisp." Feng Ziying thought for a moment but could not find the right words. He swallowed a large mouthful of wine and said, "It was like hanging a painting."

Jia Heng sat beside them, taking small sips from his wine cup, smiling without a word.

As the saying went, Internal Fist struck people as though hanging paintings. The Internal Fist style he practiced had both its stances and the bearing of a grandmaster mastered to perfection.

Feng Tang held his wine bowl and listened with a smile, but surprise appeared on his rugged face. "How did you come into conflict with the people of the Eastern Mansion, lad?"

That question went straight to the heart of the matter. Feng Ziying's wine cup paused in his hand, and he looked toward Jia Heng.

Jia Heng set down his wine cup and said calmly, "It's a long story..."

Then he gave a full account of his conflict with Jia Zhen and his son.

"Brother Zhen first sent Brother Rong to tempt me with benefits. When that failed, he tried to pressure me with his authority as clan head and sent vicious servants after me. I had no other choice, Uncle, so I gave them a small punishment as a stern warning." As Jia Heng finished, a suitably helpless look appeared on his refined face. He picked up his cup and drank.

Feng Ziying's expression grew solemn. He looked pleadingly at his father and called, "Father..."

As a member of the younger generation, he had not been in a position to interfere in the Jia Family's affairs, and his words carried little weight anyway.

But if his father... His father hated evil with a passion. If he could step in and mediate, perhaps...

Feng Tang's brows knitted tightly, and an inscrutable look entered his bright, tigerlike eyes. "Then how do you intend to resolve this, lad?"

Jia Heng said gravely, "No matter how much anyone argues, this matter ultimately comes down to who is in the right. I've already punished Lai Sheng and those other vicious servants from the Eastern Mansion, and I'm buying time for now. But I doubt the Eastern Mansion will let it rest. I've already worked out a few plans, and there are several crucial points I'd like to ask you about, Uncle."

Feng Tang said, "Buying time is indeed a workable strategy. Oh? What crucial points did you have in mind?"

Hearing this, Jia Heng felt somewhat reassured. He knew that Old General Feng's sympathies lay with him in this matter.

In fact, Feng Tang's earlier question had already shown that he leaned toward Jia Heng's side. Jia Heng simply could not understand why Feng Tang regarded him with such favor.

This general was bold and generous by temperament, but in truth he was also perceptive, steady, prudent, and experienced. Ordinarily, it would have been difficult for him to interfere in internal Jia Family matters like these.

Still, being able to consult him on the crucial points was good enough.

At that thought, Jia Heng rose, composed his expression, and cupped his hands. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, Uncle."

Seeing this, Feng Tang could not help chuckling. "There's no need to be so formal, my worthy nephew. Sit down first."

The boy was young, yet so mature and restrained in his dealings with others. He was utterly unlike the rest of the Jia Family, which truly left one marveling in secret.

Jia Heng said seriously, "In fact, although the Eastern Mansion was furious after I beat Lai Sheng, there was nothing they could do to me."

Feng Tang nodded, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "In this matter, you have right firmly on your side, lad. When vicious servants bully their master, failing to strike back would only make people look down on you. Besides, the means available to the Eastern Mansion are limited."

Jia Heng nodded and drew a deep breath. The Divine Martial General's words also confirmed his own judgment.

Vicious servants had blocked his path and insulted him. However far he had fallen, he still bore the name Jia, and the blood of the Duke of Ningguo flowed through his veins. How could he allow such vile servants to bully their master in broad daylight?

But what came next...