A Born Bandit

After leaving the crowd, Zhao Changhe turned into a quiet corner and soon found himself leaning against the wall, panting as though utterly drained.

The Blood Baleful Art really was fierce. It wasn't just the speed of that first strike-even when several people had tried to pull him away afterward, they hadn't been able to budge him. That strength was downright absurd. And he had only practiced for one night and one morning...

But its drawbacks were just as serious. Such a brief exertion had left him feeling depleted. He couldn't tell whether it was the aftermath of overdrawing his blood and qi, or simply his guilty conscience.

He had shown off and vented his anger, but he didn't know whether Zhang Quan was dead... He had barely arrived and was already attacking one of his own. What punishment would he face?

Yet when his blood had surged in that moment, who the fuck had cared about any of that... Was this another side effect of the Blood Baleful Art? Or had that streak been inside him all along?

"Any regrets?" Instructor Sun's voice suddenly came from around the corner.

Zhao Changhe turned to look. Instructor Sun stood leaning nearby with his arms folded, watching him with a half-smile.

Zhao Changhe did respect Instructor Sun. Lowering his head, he said, "Nothing to regret. Whatever punishment I get, I'll accept it. If I hadn't fought to establish myself, would I have spent the rest of my days meekly handing my food over to other people? I can't live like that."

"Hah..." Instructor Sun interrupted him. "'The killer: Zhao Changhe!' I already knew you had that fire in you. No need to explain. I'm asking whether you regret practicing the Blood Baleful Art. Having your reason affected like that."

"Uh..." So it really was the art's influence, not that he was naturally so vicious. Greatly reassured, Zhao Changhe answered, "No regrets for now, either. It's a pretty badass art. I can't worry about anything else yet. But from what you're saying, Instructor, Zhang Quan..."

"Dead." Instructor Sun sounded utterly indifferent. "He dared steal the meat I arranged for you? He provoked you first and got killed afterward. Stupid and weak. If he's dead, he's dead."

Zhao Changhe knew Instructor Sun had most likely taken the heat for him. With his head lowered and an obedient look, he said, "Thank you, Instructor..."

"There you go again, acting like some scholar," Instructor Sun cursed. "Are you fucking here to sit the imperial examinations?"

Zhao Changhe: "?"

Even thanking you was wrong?

"You tried making nice with Zhang Quan earlier. Did it do a damn thing? And now? Who isn't a little afraid of you? That's how you get people to make nice!" Instructor Sun sneered. "I was there when you killed Luo Zhenwu. I saw your fire and your guts-a born bandit, plain as day. That's why I gave you a few extra pointers, so you wouldn't disgrace our Holy Cult when you walked the rivers and lakes! Otherwise, did you think I was giving you special treatment because you had a tender ass?"

A born bandit... Zhao Changhe was at a loss for words.

Sure enough, neither affection nor dislike came without a reason. Everything had two sides. Killing Luo Zhenwu had displeased Helmsman Fang, but Instructor Sun had admired it.

The civilized ways of a modern person really were out of place in this world, especially in a bandits' den like this. He already counted as a fairly fierce person, and after so much "killing in dreams," he had long since grown accustomed to how killing felt. If one of his more ordinary classmates had come here instead, he truly had no idea how they would have survived.

After thinking for a while, Zhao Changhe asked, "This is still our own camp. There ought to be limits to some things... If we handled everything like we did today..."

Instructor Sun stared coldly at him for a long moment. "You're already in the rivers and lakes."

With that, he turned to leave. "Come find me in two hours to learn the saber. From now on, practice your cultivation every morning and your saber every afternoon. Do what you like at night."

Zhao Changhe watched him leave, his lips pressed together in silence.

These aren't the rivers and lakes I wanted.

Two hours later, Zhao Changhe appeared at the Martial Arts Ground right on time.

Instructor Sun gave him an amused glance. Earlier, the lad had shown signs of weakness from overexertion, and with no food in his stomach, he had looked as wilted as a frostbitten eggplant. Now he was brimming with energy.

Someone had reported to him, so he knew what Zhao Changhe had done during those two hours.

The rascal had gone and beaten up every one of Zhang Quan's companions, stolen their food, and eaten three whole large bowls-more than his original portion. Then he had gone off for a brief midday nap with a perfectly clear conscience.

A polite young man who had still intended to maintain harmony among his own people was rapidly turning into a hardened bandit.

That was how it went in the rivers and lakes. Throw anyone into a vat of ink, and sooner or later they would turn pitch-black.

Even Instructor Sun couldn't help feeling a little wistful. "Come over. Start by learning the basic saber techniques with everyone else."

Still following his usual habits, Zhao Changhe obediently walked to the back of the group to listen.

But when everyone saw him approach, they all shuddered and instinctively parted to make a path, as though respectfully ushering him to the front. Zhao Changhe snorted, then strode forward without standing on ceremony and planted himself directly opposite Instructor Sun. Only then did the others obediently return to their places.

A hint of amusement seemed to flicker in Instructor Sun's eyes, but he offered no comment and began teaching. "Of all weapons, the saber has relatively few basic movements: chopping, slashing, and cutting upward. Ten thousand variations never stray from their root. Even the finest saber techniques can't escape that rule. And your fundamentals determine how far you can go. How fast, accurate, and steady you become depends entirely on how solid your foundation is. No supreme technique can give you that."

"Take this morning's Turning Slash. Whenever any saber technique deals with an enemy behind you, it merely builds variations on that slash. It might emphasize channeling force, change the angle, or prepare a different follow-up. Those are the distinctive refinements of each school, but how steady and accurate your strike is still depends on the fundamentals you practice today. On the other hand, once you've mastered the basics, whatever saber technique you acquire in the future, you'll quickly grasp its essence and make it your own."

"Many people say our demonic arts offer quick results... But this isn't where those quick results come from. There are no shortcuts to the fundamentals!"

Instructor Sun swept his gaze across the grounds. He could see disappointment hidden in most of their eyes. Who learned demonic arts for anything but a shortcut to rapid success? Yet here he was telling them to drill their fundamentals day after day. How different was that from any other sect...?

Only a handful had bright, intent eyes, looking as though they had taken his words to heart.

Zhao Changhe was among them.

Instructor Sun smiled. "Now I'll demonstrate the straight chop and horizontal slash again. Don't think any child can pick up a saber and do this... Just like the Turning Slash, they have subtleties of their own. Watch closely!"

Watching Instructor Sun's deliberately slowed movements without blinking, his hands unconsciously mimicking them, Zhao Changhe felt he had never put this much effort into studying in his entire life... If he had worked this hard back then, he might even have gotten into Tsinghua or Peking University.

A born bandit?

Perhaps.

The scar on his face told him that, in this world, this mattered more than either university.

The afternoon passed quickly. By dusk, Zhao Changhe sat exhausted on a rock at the edge of the grounds, resting as he kneaded his unbearably sore arms with both hands. The Blood Baleful Art continued circulating, easing the soreness on its own. It was remarkably miraculous.

Instructor Sun strolled leisurely over to him. "You really do have a knack for this. One afternoon, and you already look the part... Go back and rest. You'll have another piece of meat at dinner-the rule here is that whoever practices best gets a piece of meat. Let's see how many days you can keep earning yours."

Zhao Changhe found that a little strange. "Can we just keep practicing martial arts and eating meat here? Don't we have to work?"

Instructor Sun gave him a half-smile. "We teach you martial arts and give you meat because we intend to put you to use, of course. Did you think we were keeping you around for fun?"

Zhao Changhe asked tentatively, "Then..."

Instructor Sun cut him off before he could finish. "So practice like your life depends on it while you have these days. Otherwise, if you die on a mission, all I'll do is have someone drag your corpse off to feed the dogs."

Zhao Changhe shut his mouth.

Instructor Sun walked away at an easy pace. "You've earned merit, so you're still getting preferential treatment for now. That brother who came with you has already gone out on a mission. Who knows whether you'll end up living in that room all by yourself? A little extra space would be nice."

Zhao Changhe's heart tightened.

No wonder he hadn't seen Luo Qi when he went back at noon. He had already been sent on a mission.

Joining the Demon Cult was fundamentally different from serving as a manor guard for the Luo Family. Here, they demanded your life... He wondered whether Luo Qi had returned yet.

Looked at another way, Zhao Changhe also found the path he was now walking deeply ironic.

Why had he killed Luo Zhenwu? There had been an element of self-preservation, but the main reason had naturally been to avenge the massacred villagers of Zhao Cuo.

Yet the group he now belonged to did the very same thing. Perhaps one day he would have to do it with his own hands.

If he had previously thought the Luo Family's vicious conduct made them little different from the Demon Cult, he could now see there was a difference after all... The greatest difference was that the Luo Family didn't make its living that way, while for the Demon Cult, it was one of its main lines of business.

But had he had a choice? The circumstances back then had pushed him into this. Now that he had come this far, could he still turn back?

Zhao Changhe lowered his head and looked at the rice in his bowl, ripples stirring in the depths of his eyes.

A born bandit...?

"I hope you'll still have today's simple honesty in the future. If we meet again someday in the rivers and lakes, I hope I'll still hear you call me big sister."

Zhao Changhe gazed absently at the sky. The words that had hung there last night had long since vanished, as though they had never existed.