His right leg comes crashing down, but I sidestep it and thrust my palm forward, keeping my knees slightly bent to give me leverage. Dodging my palm strike, he closes in and attempts to grab me for a throw, but I leap backwards and fall into the Rising Gale stance. In answer to me, Master Fu slips into the Dancing Inferno stance, and beckons me forward.

I dash across the ground and feint a strike towards his head, but he doesn’t fall for it and instead catches the real strike I attempt at his midsection. Pushing him back with one of the sweeping kicks that features so prominently in this style, I switch to the Placid River as he comes for me with fast, frantic attacks. Short, rapid strikes accented by low kicks and elbow strikes form the core of his style, and I weave through his attacks while looking for an opening. He attempts to knee me in the face, but I’ve learnt since then and dodge, before catching his kick heading towards the side of my head.

He still has some tricks, however, and he quickly shows me by stamping down hard on my foot and taking advantage of the distraction to punch me in the face.

He calls for a stop as I reel backwards, blinking stars out of my eyes. Two weeks of this hellish sparring and I’m actually able to hold my own for a few minutes now, which is a huge step forwards in my opinion. Not in his, however, as he shows by somehow making each session even worse than the last.

Why do I still come to his lessons? I mean, I’m grateful to him and all, but if he’s trying to teach me to protect myself I think I could take on Hai by this point. In fact, I could probably take on both him and his minion at the same time by now.

Ah, right. Because I don’t really know how to turn him down. Curse my inability to talk to humans.

Wait, are we going for another round?

Oh no, we’re going for another round. Quick, say thank you, but you want out NOW, and-

Wait, why are you getting into a stance? Nonononono-

By the time I make my way down the mountain, my entire body aches and I want to die.

Sadistic old man kept going for five more rounds after that. How did he even have enough stamina to do that with his age? Granted, he’s taught me a lot of new stuff, but by the last few rounds I just wanted to collapse on all fours and let him have his way instead of fighting back if only to make it easier.

And my traitorous brain was no help either. All you had to do was say that one sentence and we could have stopped this suffering, you know? But now we have to go back up there, tomorrow morning, at dawn, with a sack full of rocks because he needs me to ‘train my body’.

I’m so distracted by my internal complaints that I walk straight into someone. As I’m about to apologize, I realize who it is.

Ah fuck.

“Well, well, well. Seems like our baby sheep has forgotten his manners, hasn’t he? You’d think he’d learn after we beat it into him the last time, but it seems he’s a bit slow and must be taught the lesson again, hmm?” Hai smiles at me as his minion chortles behind him. Heavens only know how that sentence was funny. “Now you’ve dirtied my robes, and they’re very expensive, you know? So I’m going to need you to pay for the cost of washing them, hmm?”

Clearly, he just wants me to give him an excuse to beat me up again, except this time when no one is around to stop him. But he’s miscalculated. In fact, my smile mirrors his own as I shift my weight slightly to prepare to show him what a mistake he just made.

“Certainly, Brother Hai. Just let me get my money from my pack so I can pay you.” As I drop my pack and pretend to rummage through it, I ignore Hai’s growing look of skepticism. “Your robes certainly must cost a lot, Brother Hai. The silk looks very fine, and to use so much of it on one person is truly impressive. The design, however, I find a bit lacking; in fact, I think Uncle Guo down the streets has curtains with the exact same pattern.”

Ah, there we go. Took him a while to get it, but he has. He tries to kick me in the face as I’m currently kneeling, but even compared to the old man his kick is laughably slow. Shifting my position slightly, and my pack with it, his foot crashes into the pack and the rocks in it.

Thank you, Master. 

All that pain and the permanent problems with my back I’m probably going to have was worth it, for that one moment of hearing Hai’s foot crunch against the pack and his scream that follows. He’ll probably get his rich dad to get back at me somehow for this, but I’m not too concerned. The fact that he injured his foot, of all things, is probably enough to give Wen to make a case for me when I say it was an accident. Hobbling off, his minion struggling to support his weight, Hai swears and curses at me, but I don’t really care. For once in my life, I don’t feel so powerless. This is the best night of my life.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I awake to the sound of screams.

It should be dark out, but it isn’t. The room is painted in orange, yet sunrise should still be hours away.

Rushing to one of the many holes in the walls of my dilapidated hut that substitutes for windows, I see dark shapes moving about outside, black silhouettes against a fiery background. I stumble outside and find myself in hell.

Men in cloth and leather, riding on horses and carrying spears, run down anyone in their path. Some of them dismount and break their way into one of the huts, emerging from it with sacks of grain and food. The owner of the hut is dragged out too, but they slit his throat and his cries are cut off with a horrible gurgle. One of them throws the corpse and their loot on the back of his horse before riding off, leaving the rest of them to carry out the same procedure on the next house. To the other side of the village, I see a group of five of these invaders with legs and arms that are disproportionately large and covered in shaggy fur. Their arms are tipped in claws, and as I watch one of them smile, I see his teeth are sharp.

Wolves, I realize. They look like wolves.

A harsh, guttural cry sounds through the night, but it’s not from them. They break into a run, but not towards me, instead sprinting towards the village center. In fact, I now realize the fires aren’t spread evenly throughout the village. They seem to be spreading from the heart of the village. I consider running, but odds are the horsemen will see me and run me down before I get too far. If I stay here and hide, they’ll find me eventually.

If these men came to plunder, then they wouldn’t be setting fire to the houses yet, at least not until they’ve gotten what they need. The fire can’t have come from them, else the whole village would be aflame by now. So that means that whoever is fighting them is probably at the center of the village, and they’re probably still alive, else these men wouldn’t have been summoned, and instead would focus on slowing the spread of fire.

It seems my best bet for survival may just be to take a walk into a blazing death trap. Just my luck.

It takes me the better part of half an hour to make my way there, and I’m really not sure why I’m surprised by who I see. Master Fu is using what looks like the Rising Gale style as he fights off three of the wolfmen I saw earlier, but each strike he uses seems to leave behind arcs of flame. One of the wolfmen tries to claw at his back, but Master switches to a variation of the Placid River style and avoids the blow, instead unleashing a blast of flame so intense I feel the heat even where I stand. When the flames let up, the wolfman is gone, turned to ash, but Master is visibly drained from that. His moves are more sluggish, and the other wolfmen press him harder than before, fueled by rage from the death of their comrade. Already he’s surrounded by the bodies of at least nine corpses, wolfmen and horsemen alike, and that’s not even counting how many he’s turned to ash, but it’s not enough.

He’ll die unless someone helps, and if I’ve learnt anything about this village, it’s that nobody helps others unless there’s something in it for them.

I sneak over to one of the dead horsemen and pluck the spear from his hands. The thing is almost as tall as I am, and the blade has surprisingly fine craftsmanship, forged into the shape of a leaf. I’ve not learnt how to use a spear yet, so my tentative thrust towards one of the wolfmen is easily knocked aside as he growls at me. Ignoring his assault on Master, he tries to cleave me apart but I back off using the Rising Gale style. Darting around, I thrust the spear at him. He catches the head of the spear almost contemptuously, and I’m forced to let go of it as he starts swinging it wildly.

The distraction, however, has given Master enough time to finish off his opponent with another burst of flame. Turning his attention towards my opponent now, it’s almost pathetic how easily Master disposes of him, another charred corpse joining the pile moments after the fight begins.

Master isn’t in very good shape, though. His face is ashen, and he’s leaning heavily on one of the spears he picked up off the ground. I retrieve a spear from another corpse and make my way over to him.

He gives me a curt nod before pulling out a flask and taking a deep swig from it. Colour returns to his cheeks and his breathing steadies as he wipes his moustache with a free hand.

“Get out of here, boy. This is no place for a child. Get out of the village and head south, towards the capital. I don’t doubt they’ll already know about this attack by now, and they’ll need soldiers for what’s about to happen. You’ll be able to find food and shelter if you enroll in the Army, maybe find your brother too. It’s your best bet for surviving what’s coming next.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay here and try to get as many people out as I can. I’m feeling my age already, you see. Most likely I’ll die tonight, but it’s a good way to die. Better than wasting away in a hut in the middle of nowhere. Now run, before- “

He never finishes his sentence. His head rolls towards me as his body crumples towards the ground.

I didn’t even notice his killer, and I’m not sure how. The thing is cloaked in shadow, the shape of a man, but no features show on its face.

A black silhouette, cast in orange light and drenched in the blood of my mentor.

I collapse to the ground, but I don’t even realise it. The spear drops out of my hands as my heart races, breath struggling to force its way into my mouth.

Fear.

I’ve known fear before. When the man pulled out a knife on Brother and me, demanding our money. When I slipped on the path up the mountain one winter, and Brother struggled to pull me back up. When I fell off a tree I had climbed up too high, in those few, brief moments before landing.

But this is something else. This is more than just fear.

This is hopelessness.

Consciousness slips from my grasp, and I see only death striding towards me before I collapse.