Sleeve Swords

With more than half the holiday still ahead of him, Tang San called Wang Xingyu and Xiao Wu to the back mountain.

It was the same hollow, the same patch of little white flowers. Tang San had arrived first and sat cross-legged among the flowers, tinkering with something in his hands.

When Xiao Wu and Wang Xingyu arrived, he had just finished assembling the last of the parts.

"Here." Tang San handed them each something.

Wang Xingyu took his and looked it over. It was a small iron tube, as long as his palm and as thick as his thumb, with a leather strap on the inside that fit snugly around his forearm. Three tiny holes pierced the front of the tube, and a mechanism at the back could be triggered with a press of a finger.

He turned the tube over and examined it. The mechanism was exquisitely made, requiring just the right amount of pressure: it wouldn't go off by accident, but it wouldn't be too hard to press when needed, either.

"Sleeve Swords," Tang San said. "Strap one to your forearm and hide it in your sleeve, and nobody can see it. Press the mechanism, and three short blades fire at once. The effective range is twenty paces. That's enough to deal with Soul Masters at level twenty or thirty, but not anyone higher."

Xiao Wu had already strapped her Sleeve Sword to her left wrist. She turned it this way and that, her eyes sparkling. "Little San, you know how to make these too?"

Tang San said nothing.

Wang Xingyu fitted the Sleeve Sword onto his right wrist, tightened the leather strap, and lowered his sleeve. Sure enough, nothing showed.

He raised his arm and aimed at an empty patch of ground nearby, resting a finger on the mechanism without pressing it. It felt good. It was so light that he could barely feel its weight on his wrist; unless he raised his hand, he couldn't feel it there at all. He knew Tang San made Hidden Weapons, but this was the first time he'd gotten his hands on one.

"Boo-hoo-hoo, I never thought I'd get one too." Wang Xingyu lowered his sleeve.

Tang San and Xiao Wu turned to look at him at the same time.

"I'm so touched." Wang Xingyu looked at the small bulge on his wrist. "When we form our own organization someday, let's call it the Tang School."

Xiao Wu frowned. "Tang School? Why does it sound so awful?"

"What's so awful about it?"

"Everything. We might as well call it the Tang Sect."

Tang San's fingers paused. Wang Xingyu caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and thought that, for Tang San, the name wasn't something picked at random.

The Tang Sect was where he had spent his entire previous life, secretly learning his way from an outer-sect disciple to the inner sect's ultimate arts. In the end, the sect leader and elders had chased him to Hell's Peak. When he jumped off the cliff, he probably hadn't expected to hear those words again one day.

"The Tang Sect does sound better than the Tang School," Wang Xingyu said.

Tang San turned his head and glanced at Wang Xingyu, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"No good? Then let's call it the Dance Sect." Wang Xingyu tucked his hands behind his head and flopped backward into the flowers.

Xiao Wu tilted her head and thought it over. "Dance Sect... that works too."

Tang San spoke up. "Let's call it the Tang Sect after all."

Wang Xingyu lay among the flowers, watching the clouds overhead, the corners of his mouth curling up. Sure enough.

"I'd kind of like that," Tang San added in a quiet voice.

Wang Xingyu burst out laughing. Xiao Wu looked at Tang San, then at Wang Xingyu, and suddenly laughed too. "Little San, you're pretty good at this!"

Tang San turned his head away, the tips of his ears a little red.

"Then it's the Tang Sect." Xiao Wu clapped her hands. "Settled."

Wang Xingyu lay among the flowers, looking at Tang San's profile. The Tang Sect was the organization Tang San had built with his own hands in the original story. Starting with the Strength Clan, he had brought in the Defense Clan, the Speed Clan, and the Breaking Clan, drawing people in one by one until it had become a sect of great importance on the Douluo Continent.

Now the name had been born several years early, decided by three people tossing suggestions back and forth in a patch of little white flowers on the back mountain. There was no Strength Clan, no affiliated sects, only two Sleeve Swords and a person lying on the ground watching the clouds.

"Oh, right." Xiao Wu suddenly turned to look at Wang Xingyu. "Why do you still call him Little San?"

Wang Xingyu sat up among the flowers. "Huh?"

"The three of us swore an oath of brotherhood. He's the eldest, I'm second, and you're third." Xiao Wu counted them off on her fingers. "You should call him Third Brother. You still call him Little San-you've got no respect for your elders."

Wang Xingyu opened his mouth. Third Brother. He repeated the words to himself, then repeated them again.

Strange. When he had read Douluo Continent in his previous life, Xiao Wu calling Tang San Third Brother had seemed perfectly natural. Now that it was his turn, why couldn't he get the words out?

"It's mostly because I'm used to calling him Little San." Wang Xingyu plucked a little flower and twirled it in his hand. "Changing to Third Brother all of a sudden feels a little strange."

Tang San shook his head. "It's fine. Little San is fine too."

Xiao Wu wasn't happy. "That won't do. We can't just throw the rules out. He's the eldest, so you have to call him Third Brother."

Tang San looked at Xiao Wu, then at Wang Xingyu. "It really is fine. Little San sounds pretty good too."

Xiao Wu huffed, but she didn't insist any further.

"Then what should I call you?" Xiao Wu asked, looking at Wang Xingyu again.

"Just Xingyu, like always." Wang Xingyu tossed the little flower into the air. "We can each use our own names for each other. There's no conflict."

Xiao Wu thought about it, apparently decided it made sense, and nodded. "All right. I'll keep calling you Xingyu, then."

Wang Xingyu suddenly remembered a joke he had read online in his previous life. "Let me tell you, I once heard a story. There was a family where the father and son became buddies. The father called his son 'brother,' and the son called his father 'Dad.'"

Xiao Wu stared. "Wouldn't that mix up the generations?"

"No." Wang Xingyu held up one finger. "The father calling his son 'brother' was the father's business. The son calling his father 'Dad' was the son's business. Each went by his own rules. No conflict."

Xiao Wu tilted her head and thought for a moment, then burst out laughing. Tang San laughed too, his shoulders shaking. Wang Xingyu sat among the flowers, watching Xiao Wu laugh so hard she couldn't straighten up, and laughed himself.

The three of them laughed together in the patch of little white flowers, shaking petals loose and sending them fluttering onto their hair, their clothes, and the Sleeve Swords.

In his third year since crossing over to the Douluo Continent, he had become sworn siblings with Tang San and Xiao Wu. Tang San was the eldest, Xiao Wu was second, and he was third. They each used their own names for one another: Tang San called him Xingyu, Xiao Wu called him Xingyu, he called Tang San Little San, and he called Xiao Wu Sister Xiao Wu. Their organization was settled too: the Tang Sect.

During the second half of the holiday, the three of them helped Old Jack with a good deal of work. Xiao Wu was in charge of digging out rabbit burrows. She caught nothing, but she was happy every day.

Xingyu and Tang San helped Old Jack chop firewood, carry water, and repair the roof. Old Jack squatted under the locust tree with his dry tobacco pipe, watching the three children bustle around the courtyard. He held the pipe in his mouth for a long time without lighting it.

"All right, all right, take a break." Old Jack took the pipe from his mouth and gestured toward the house with his chin. "There's mung bean soup in the pot. Help yourselves."

Xiao Wu was the first to dash inside. Wang Xingyu and Tang San sat on the threshold with a bowl each. The mung beans had cooked until they split open, and there was a tiny bit of sugar in the soup. It wasn't sweet, but it was cool and refreshing. Old Jack squatted beside them, watching them drink with a smile on his face the whole time.

When the holiday ended, the three returned to Nuoding Academy. Life went back to the way it had been.

They went to the back mountain to cultivate before dawn, attended Martial Soul Theory classes in the morning, and practiced on their own in the afternoon. Tang San practiced with his Hidden Weapons and Blue Silver Grass, while Xiao Wu practiced Moon Shadow and grappling.

Sure enough, just as Wang Xingyu had expected, Xiao Wu learned Waist Bow. That should count as a Self-Created Soul Skill.

Wang Xingyu planted Blue Silver Grass in the soil and practiced Life Drain over and over.

Absorb, store, transfer. Absorb, store, transfer.