Seven days passed like water flung from a basin, gone in a flash.
During those seven days, the ten men of Squad A lived an almost mechanical existence: weighted runs before dawn, crawling through mud in the morning, weapons practice in the afternoon, sparring at dusk, lessons on military strategy at night, and medicinal baths before bed. Shi Meng spoke pitifully little, but every word was a nail driven into their bones.
"Fast," he rasped, his whip striking the back of anyone who moved too slowly. "On the battlefield, one step too slow means death."
"Accurate." He gripped Zhao Ling's wrist and adjusted its angle. "Once an arrow leaves the bow, it has to hit the throat, the eyes, or the heart. Anywhere else is useless."
"Ruthless." He watched Qin Tiexin chop with his saber. "Keep three parts of your strength in reserve. Pour the other seven into the blade. Once it falls, either he dies or you do."
There was nothing fancy, only fundamentals. Chop, thrust, lift, block. Once, a hundred times, a thousand times. By the end, all ten men's weapon hands trembled, and they could barely hold their chopsticks at meals.
But it worked. When Qin Tiexin swung his saber now, seventy-five strikes out of a hundred could land along the same line. Though he could not make them overlap perfectly like Shi Meng, it was already the difference between heaven and earth compared with the ghostly scrawls of his first day. The wind from his blade was still as heavy, but his strikes landed accurately, and his strength flowed smoothly. He no longer relied entirely on brute force.
Tu Dazhu had also become quite proficient with his great axe. He already had a foundation, and with Shi Meng's guidance, his axe techniques grew simpler, targeting the lower body and neck. Every swing carried a vicious force that seemed bent on cutting a man in half at the waist.
Lin Feng's swordsmanship shed most of its flourishes, leaving only basic movements such as thrusts, slices, and upward flicks, but it became faster and trickier. Chen San's short dagger appeared and vanished like a ghost, stabbing only at vital places beneath the ribs, at the throat, and in the lower back.
On the morning of the seventh day, just as the sun climbed above the mountaintop, Shi Meng called the ten men into the training ground.
"No drills today." His raspy voice sounded especially clear in the morning breeze. "Split into teams. Fight each other."
The ten men's eyes lit up with excitement, but also tension.
Shi Meng divided them into two groups. Qin Tiexin, Lin Feng, Wang Meng, Zhou Laowu, and Chen San formed one team; Tu Dazhu, Zhao Ling, Li Shun, Zhang Shan, and Zhao Ziliang formed the other.
"Simple rules." Shi Meng pointed at either end of the ground. At some point, two wooden poles had been erected, each with a small flag tied to its top, one red and one blue. "Your flags are at the back. Use wooden blades and shields, and remove the arrowheads. Whichever team knocks down the other's flag first wins."
He paused and swept his gaze over them. "One double-hour to prepare. Begin."
The two teams immediately dispersed, gathering at opposite ends of the ground.
Qin Tiexin's team gathered beneath the red flag. Lin Feng spoke first. "We need to defend the flag first."
He looked around. Bricks, stones, and lumber used for training lay piled along the edges of the ground. His eyes lit up, and he called to the others, "Bring those over! Build a low wall!"
The five set to work and soon built a waist-high wall of bricks, stones, and wooden sticks around the flagpole, leaving only one opening to pass through. Zhou Laowu crouched behind it and hefted his wooden saber. "I defend our base?"
"Right." Lin Feng nodded. "Brother Qin, you and I charge from the front and draw their attention. Wang Meng, Chen San, circle around the flanks and look for a chance to stab their flag guards."
Qin Tiexin listened without speaking. He gripped the padded wooden mallet Shi Meng had specially prepared for him to simulate Edgeless's weight, feeling rather uneasy.
Noticing his expression, Lin Feng patted his shoulder. "Brother Qin, you're strong. A frontal charge will scare them most. Our team is counting on you to clear the way."
Qin Tiexin nodded. "Mm."
Tu Dazhu's team was making its arrangements as well. Zhao Ling crouched on the ground, drawing a diagram with a twig. "They'll definitely send Qin Tiexin charging straight at us. We can't take him head-on. We won't hold."
Tu Dazhu frowned. "Then what do we do?"
"Defend." Zhao Ling drew a circle on the diagram. "Two shields each. You take four. We all huddle in front of the flagpole. Li Shun and I will use arrows, aiming at their wrists and the backs of their knees. Half of them will be down before they reach us."
Li Shun added, "The arrows might not have heads, but a hit to the throat will leave them coughing for ages and unable to fight."
Tu Dazhu considered it, then grinned. "All right! Let's see how many shields Qin Tiexin can break through!"
The double-hour soon passed.
Standing in the middle of the ground, Shi Meng raised his hand and slashed it down. "Begin!"
Qin Tiexin charged out first, with Lin Feng close behind. One on the left and one on the right, they drove straight into the opposing position like two chisels. Wang Meng and Chen San circled along the flanks, silently creeping toward the enemy flagpole.
Zhou Laowu crouched behind the low wall, gripping his wooden saber and staring fixedly ahead.
But when they reached midfield, they all froze.
None of the five opponents had charged forward. They were all huddled in front of the flagpole. Each held two wooden shields, while Tu Dazhu had four hanging from his front, back, and sides, like a human fortress. Zhao Ling and Li Shun crouched behind the shield formation, bows fully drawn, their arrow tips gleaming coldly. Though they had no arrowheads, the sight was still chilling.
"Change of plan!" Lin Feng shouted at once. "Everyone charge! Laowu, you too! They're all huddled at their base. We don't need to defend!"
Zhou Laowu leaped out from behind the low wall. The five joined into a single force and charged at full speed.
Zhao Ling loosed the first arrow.
Whoosh-
The arrow tore through the air toward the throat of Wang Meng, who was furthest ahead. Wang Meng instinctively turned his head. It skimmed past his neck, the wind it stirred making the hairs on his nape stand on end. Before he recovered, a second arrow came straight for his wrist.
Smack!
The wooden arrow struck his wrist bone. Pain lanced through him, and Wang Meng cried out as his wooden saber fell from his hand. A third arrow immediately struck behind his knee. He pitched forward and ate a mouthful of mud.
Quick on his feet, Chen San dodged left and right, avoiding two arrows. But Li Shun's arrows followed one after another, cutting off his movements. One flew toward the side of his knee. Just as he jumped aside, another reached his throat. He bent sharply backward, and the arrow skimmed past his chin. Before he regained his footing, a third struck the wrist holding his dagger.
"Ugh!" Chen San grunted, and his short dagger fell.
Zhou Laowu charged the hardest and became a living target. Zhao Ling shot three arrows in rapid succession, all aimed at his lower body. The first hit his thigh, making him stagger; the second hit his calf, dropping him to one knee; the third flew straight into the back of his knee. He pitched forward and landed flat on his face with a heavy thud, unable to get up for quite some time.
In the blink of an eye, three of the five were down.
Only Qin Tiexin and Lin Feng remained.
They had already charged to within ten paces of the shield formation. Bows were of little use at this distance. Zhao Ling and Li Shun put theirs away, picked up wooden sabers, and withdrew behind the shields.
Tu Dazhu's voice came from behind a shield. "Hold firm! There are only two of them left!"
Five shields overlapped in impenetrable layers. Gaps remained between them, with wooden sticks protruding like a hedgehog's spines.
Lin Feng called in a low voice, "Brother Qin, I'll take the left, you take the right. Hit them together!"
They accelerated at the same time. Lin Feng's sword moved lightly and nimbly as he tried to cut in from the side, but the moment he closed in, two wooden sticks thrust through gaps in the shields toward his waist and ribs. He dodged aside, only for another stick to sweep toward the backs of his knees.
Smack!
The stick struck solidly against the side of his knee. His leg buckled, and he dropped to the ground on his knees. Three or four more sticks immediately rained down on his head and face. He barely blocked a few blows before finally giving out and falling flat.
Now Qin Tiexin was alone.
He stood before the shield formation, breathing heavily. Several arrows had already hit him, leaving bruises on his shoulder, arms, and thighs. He had taken several blows from the sticks during the charge as well. They were not fatal, but they burned with pain.
Behind the shields, Tu Dazhu's voice carried a smile. "Brother Qin, you're the only one left. Give up!"
Qin Tiexin said nothing. Staring at the five shields, he saw images flash through his mind: the overlapping marks of Shi Meng's three saber strikes, Li Zhenwei's words, "Come back alive," and what Zhou Cang had said while forging-find that point and make one hammer blow count.
He stepped back twice.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped the wooden mallet.
The men behind the shields froze. Tu Dazhu peered through a gap. "Brother Qin, you-"
He never finished.
Qin Tiexin turned sideways, left shoulder forward and right foot braced behind him, his whole body like a fully drawn bow. It was the posture he knew best from forging. Strength rose from the soles of his feet, flowed through his waist and legs, and finally gathered in his shoulder and arm, driving through the hammer into the red-hot iron on the anvil.
Now the opposing shield formation was the anvil.
And he himself was the hammer.
He roared, the sound more beast than human.
Then he charged.
His first step struck the ground, scattering mud. His second accelerated, the wind howling. On the third, his shoulder and arm became a hammer, smashing into the foremost wooden shield.
Crack-!
The wooden sticks braced in front snapped. The shield gave a teeth-grating groan and split. Behind it, Tu Dazhu felt an enormous force slam into him, as though a charging wild bull had rammed him. He staggered backward, nearly falling.
"Hold!" he shouted hoarsely. "Everyone, get over here!"
All five behind the formation exerted themselves together, shoulders braced against shoulders and feet driving against the ground, holding the remaining four shields firmly in front. Wooden sticks jabbed wildly through the gaps, thudding against Qin Tiexin's body, but he seemed not to feel them. He only pressed hard against the shields, driving forward inch by inch.
The stalemate lasted roughly ten breaths.
Qin Tiexin suddenly released his pressure and retreated three steps.
The men behind the shields sighed in relief. Li Shun panted, "He's spent!"
Before the words had faded, Qin Tiexin assumed that posture again.
Inhale, lower the waist, drive off the ground.
The second collision.
Crack! Crack!
Two shields split at once, splinters flying. The entire formation slid back two feet, plowing deep furrows in the ground. The webs between Tu Dazhu's thumbs and forefingers split from the shock, and blood trickled between his fingers. He gritted his teeth. "One more! Then he'll have nothing left!"
Qin Tiexin stood three zhang away, chest heaving violently and sweat pouring like rain. The clothing over his left shoulder had torn, exposing bruised, swollen flesh. He wheezed like broken bellows, every breath tugging painfully at his lungs.
He knew Tu Dazhu was right.
If this next impact failed to break through, he truly would have no strength left. Then the other team could send anyone over to pull up his team's flag.
He closed his eyes.
Zhou Cang's voice sounded in his mind. "Forging isn't about brute force. You have to find that 'sinew,' that 'strength.' Only when a single blow drives its force through the iron's core is it a good hammer blow."
Then Shi Meng's voice sounded. "Killing. Three moves. Life or death."
He opened his eyes.
He took a deep breath, deeper and slower this time, as though he meant to swallow all the Qi between heaven and earth. Then he adjusted his posture slightly. It was no longer a simple shoulder charge. His waist, legs, shoulder, and arm twisted into a single force, like a drill spinning into a block of iron.
The third collision.
Seeing him charge from behind the shields, Li Shun instinctively grabbed his bow, nocked arrows, and shot in rapid succession. Three arrows flew one after another toward Qin Tiexin's face, throat, and heart.
Qin Tiexin did not dodge.
The first arrow skimmed his cheek, leaving a bloody mark. The second struck his chest with a dull thud. The third flew straight toward his throat. He turned his head and took it squarely on his shoulder. With a snap, the shaft broke.
His speed did not diminish in the slightest.
Then he struck the shield formation.
For that instant, time seemed to slow.
The outermost two shields shattered first, wooden fragments bursting apart like walnuts crushed by a heavy hammer. The two shields inside them broke next, and Zhao Ling and Li Shun, who held them, were hurled backward by the impact and fell into the mud.
The final shield-the one formed by the four shields Tu Dazhu held desperately together-groaned under a burden it could no longer bear, then split down the middle into two halves.
Tu Dazhu toppled backward and landed on his backside, dumbstruck.
The shield formation had broken.
Qin Tiexin's momentum remained unspent. Like a maddened bull, he charged straight for the flagpole. It was a wooden post as thick as a bowl's mouth, buried deep in the earth. He turned his shoulder into it-
Crack!
The post snapped in the middle.
The blue flag swayed, then slowly fell, spreading over the muddy ground.
Unable to stop his own momentum, Qin Tiexin pitched forward as well and crashed heavily beside the flagpole. He lay facedown, gulping air, every muscle in his body trembling as his vision darkened in waves.
Dead silence filled the training ground.
Several breaths passed before Lin Feng struggled up and limped over to help Qin Tiexin to his feet. "Brother Qin... are you all right?"
Qin Tiexin shook his head. He tried to speak, but only a hoarse exhalation came out.
On the other side, Tu Dazhu also climbed up. Looking at the shattered shields and the flagpole broken in two, he muttered, "Is he... fucking human?"
Zhao Ling rubbed his numb wrists and smiled wryly. "Looks more like a battering ram that's gained sentience to me."
Shi Meng walked over.
He first examined the broken flagpole, then the shattered shields littering the ground. Finally, his gaze settled on Qin Tiexin.
His claw-scarred face showed little expression, but the corner of his mouth seemed-seemed to twitch ever so slightly, twisting those three scars into an odd curve.
His raspy voice sounded, every word seeming ground out of his throat:
"From now on, when we assault a fortified position," he said, looking at Qin Tiexin, "you go first."
Still panting, Qin Tiexin nodded.
Lin Feng supported Qin Tiexin as they headed toward the edge of the ground. Their teammates' laughter and teasing followed them:
"Hear that? A battering ram!"
"Next time we go to war, Brother Qin just has to stand there, and the enemy walls will shudder three times!"
"With Brother Qin on our team, who needs siege ladders?"
Qin Tiexin listened without speaking, but the corners of his mouth rose slightly too. He glanced back at the fallen flag, the shattered shields, the deep furrows in the mud, and those companions whose faces were battered and bruised, but whose eyes shone.
The sunlight was just right, warm against his skin.
Suddenly, he felt that this seemed... not bad at all.