Dark gloom settled upon the imperial Xing Palace as a solemn silence resonated throughout the air. Merely a month ago every corner of the resplendent building had been filled with a buzzing excitement. Banners had been flown high on every corner with the hallowed crest of the empire, an azure sword shaped like lightning set upon a golden background. Voices had filled the stairs that lead to the opulent palaces as it rested high above resounding off the polished white jade tiles adorning the ground, the heir assessment had come.
Inside this, the center of Xing power, all the empire's sons and daughters were poised to prove themselves and vie for the position of the three princes and three princesses that would represent the empire. In truth, many knew that they had little chance at such a title but despondency was not a state for an heir of Xing to fall into. To give up was the purview of those who could not carry the weight of the name of Xing!
So it went that triumph and defeat had come to cover the walls alongside the tapestry that depicted the heroics of past empire heroes while Xing Zheng’s brothers and sisters had toiled and struggled to meet the clan’s expectations. For him, the assessments of the written word or witty charisma were like the clouds above, too far removed from his world! Xing Zheng craved the feeling of a sword in his hand and the earth beneath his feet, the exhilaration of clashing techniques and perspective. As such, while his peers waited in their isolation chambers with bated breath for the results, Xing Zheng calmly meditated while waiting for his time to strike.
During this isolation, they were not allowed contact with anyone from the outside and were only given enough food and water to subsist. This was ironclad isolation meant to prevent cheating, even one of the clan’s ancestors that was supposedly at the vaunted immortal Qi condensation stage had come out of seclusion to make sure fairness was observed. Xing Zheng conducted himself well during these tests, he had always had a knack for numbers after all, especially in manipulating them. However, dry subjects such as imperial history and court nuance became the pitfalls that swallowed all hope Xing Zheng had of standing out. However, this was no concern to him as his heart could never be satisfied working as some clerk or records keeper!
Like this the trials continued with Xing Zheng performing average in most areas, his diligent nature doing him credit. However, how could it compete with real talent? His siblings were the heirs of the mighty Xing Empire, far above average, every one of them was a heaven’s born talent in some aspect. Xing Zheng knew that he wasn’t the only one that was waiting for a moment to rise above the rest.
Slowly, over many days, the fervor and zeal within the compound died away as those coveted moments came and went for many of the hopeful youths. Results rolled in and one by one tigers were given wings while others had their wings clipped before they could ever fly. During all of this, Xing Zheng waited patiently knowing that his chance was slowly approaching. In the back of his mind a kernel of memory gnawed at his confidence, a constant reminder that there was someone else who he knew was waiting for the same chance, his older brother Xing Hai! For them, the true stage of this assessment was still to come.
Throughout their youth Xing Zheng and Xing Hai had been close, an odd thing for scions of the Xing clan. However, no amount of animosity could keep their kinship down. Xing Hai was six months Xing Zheng’s senior and they had bonded deeply over their love of the martial arts. Hours after the others had finished their assigned drills and exercises set by their instructors the two boys would still be on the practice grounds, comparing techniques and simply enjoying the journey down the martial path.
Paired drills, technique discussion, and sparring filled their days with joy slowly growing their bond of brotherly love. Many times they would simply lose track of time and be scolded by the teachers for neglecting their extra study time in favor of secretly meeting for more martial arts practice. Xing Zheng had thought life would be perfect continuing like this, he and his brother pursuing the peak of martial arts in a journey through the heavens together. However, as they grew older both came to understand, it was a journey that was never meant to be.
Clan law was set in stone on this matter. The winner of the martial tournament would become the royal line’s prince of the military, set on a fast track to lead the military forces of the empire. Due to this many times in the past those that failed to attain the title, being in second and third place, had worked their way up the military themselves. After earning their positions through pure merit and achievements those who had lost out on the opportunity to be the martial prince had more than once felt slighted enough to attempt to hide an assassination during a battle. A few had even become bold enough to outright attack martial princes in their compounds, trying to quickly kill them and leave the rest of the nobles no choice but to claim them the superior martial general.
Seeing this, the Xing Patriarch had declared that those who placed highly in the martial tournament and did not achieve victory would be sequestered into other sectors such as administration. However, for Xing Zheng and Xing Hai, this clan rule had thus driven a firm rift between them as the assessment approached. Although all of their siblings would compete, Xing Zheng and Xing Hai knew that ahead lay a crossroads for them. At that moment their fates would be decided, one would fall to the wayside cast out by the family and one would soar into the heavens.
Lightning rang as the thunder rolled over a raised dais within a clear parade ground inside of the Xing Palace complex. Stairs led up the 10m tall dais from all sides making it appear like a short pyramid with a wide flat top made of blackened stone. All around the rain fell ceaselessly as surrounding stands sat astride the dais to the west and east seating thousands of Xing nobles and scions. Those who had already fallen from the tournament, the current emperor, and even the ancestors watched with bated breath from roofed stands as a youth walked through the rain from both the northern and southern ends of the parade ground.
Each was dressed in a midnight black martial arts robe and carried a traditional twin-edged straight sword. Walking silently through the rain each of the youths ascended the stairs and walked to the center of the platform, only the sound of their footfalls breaking apart the constant droning sound of the rain. Crisscrossing lines marked the space between each brick that made up the arena that would decide the brothers' fate and each one he crossed made Xing Zheng’s heart speed up in anticipation. Finally standing only 10m from each other, each of them paused to stare at the other.
Xing Zheng stood slightly taller than his brother even though he was six months his junior. His short-cut hair barely came to his ears as his dark green eyes stared solemnly at Xing Hai. Soft features gave away his normally amicable personality and Xing Zheng’s eyes were filled with resolution and sorrow
For his part Xing Hai stood opposite him, a carefree manner about his stance as his long black hair flowed to the middle of his back. Standing firm in the rain he gave off the feel of an indomitable storm, his slightly red-tinged eyes revealing calm that Xing Zheng couldn’t penetrate through. Although Xing Hai stood a few centimeters shorter, those in the audience felt as if he was looming over his younger brother.
For 12 long years, the youth heirs of the xing empire had toiled and struggled. However, for these two, this one moment was their everything. Today the last round of the martial tournament came, the last chance for one of them to prove worthy of the bloodline of Xing. Resolve settled firmly into each of their expressions, the time for emotions had ended, now they could only speak with their swords
No longer did their expressions carry the warmth of brotherly love nor the compassion of kinship, now all that insulated them from the cold rain was the bone-chilling determination that remained. With profound respect, they raised their swords and gave each other a martial salute.
Clan ancestors stood from their sitting positions at the cores of the arena formation, which had been placed under small pavilions, ready to prevent killing strikes and heal fatal injuries. The air thrummed as Xing Hai’s sword drove a quick thrust up from a lower guard trying to get under Xing Zheng's guard and land a wounding blow on his side.
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A memory of the warm sun and his smiling brother’s seemed to overlay the scene in Xing Zheng’s mind as he remembered the day his brother had taught him that technique. That day the blow had landed and a grinning Xing Hai had stood over him with a practice sword.
“Junior Brother Zheng, do you expect the enemy to always come at you in a forward and honest way? Come now once again, keep your sword up this time” Xing Hai’s jovial words and chuckling echoed through his mind as did the correct response to the technique.
Smoothly, with the practice of something done tens of thousands of times, over thousands of days, Xing Zheng’s response rang true. Using a side step he drew a counter circle with his wrist flick sending his opponent's blade further outward. With the offending sword knocked off-center, he stepped into the older boy's guard and drew another small circular motion to deliver a wrist cut to the neck using the opponent's remaining forward momentum against him.
With a burst of speed, Xing Hai rotated his blade to a vertical guard with his sword pointing downward, barely bringing his blade up into a guard in time to catch the wrist cut. Simultaneously he backed away while drawing distance between the pair, cutting outward with a low horizontal slash that scored a shallow gash on the outside of Xing Zheng’s leg. First blood had been drawn, the stinging pain a constant reminder to Xing Zheng of the beating rain as his blood flowed, mingling with the muddy water
“Hmph, it’s just blood. What's the big deal? Swords cut things so of course there is blood! Come, brother, the martial path is long and winding. This may be the first but it will not be the last time you will bleed in pursuit of the apex!” Xing Hai’s voice once again rang in Xing Zheng’s mind, a memory of the older boy standing over him during a sparring session.
It had been the first time he had been hit hard enough to draw blood and it had sent Xing Zheng into a crying fit. Ever the consoling optimist, Xing Hai had talked his ear off until he continued sparring. After that moment he had resolved to never cry while sparring again, not that Xing Hai had ever let him hear the end of it
They continued in this fashion, Xing Zheng’s excellent basics and foundation bringing him within inches of a decisive blow. Xing Hai would respond with explosive movements that belied his young physique allowing him to score continuous small counterblows. Irritation began to grow in his mind, he was losing and it was becoming painfully obvious why.
He understood well what was happening; this had always been his weakness. Xing Hai was using the clan's signature techniques, the Hidden Lightning Sword style. This particular form of swordsmanship emphasized large amounts of small engagements before allowing an opponent to close in to give them a false sense of superiority. Next, the practitioner would throw off their opponent's balance with sudden responses that contained explosive speed and strength allowing them to finish the fight in a single final exchange.
While Xing Zheng’s fundamentals of the sword were incredibly solid he had never found the peace to let his opponent so near him nor the passion to explode with the small bursting movements. For Xing Zheng, the state his clan’s teachers often called “The Void”, a state of mind essentially required to learn even the basics of the style, had always eluded him. Thus, he decided to forgo a deep study of the clan’s signature style until he reached a higher level as a martial artist.
Ironically, although Xing Hai’s sword style was superior to his, they had both studied the style since birth. As such, the decisive final blows Xing Hai should have been landing were narrowly avoided via Xing Zheng’s incredible understanding and use of fundamental parries and counters. This led to an awkward stalemate where the Hidden Lightning Sword style, known for quickly dispatching foes after taking their measure, was instead forced to inflict small wounding blows.
Memories of the first time they had been taught to enter ‘the void’ flickered through his mind. Xing Hai had taken to it like a dragon taking flight for the first time, seamlessly melding into the state as easily as he could breathe. Meanwhile, Xing Zheng had stubbornly tried for hours, wringing his hands in red in frustration by the end of that first night. Through it all, Xing Hai’s solitary figure had been present, sitting beside him throughout the whole ordeal.
Whenever he felt hopeless the older boy would smile at him and nod, almost as if to tell him that it would be ok, that all it would take was time. Pain flared in Xing Zheng’s heart as his sorrow threatened to well up and burst forth. Grim determination pressed down on those feelings, forcing him to see not his caring older brother in front of him but an enemy to be conquered.
As the fight continued seconds felt like minutes moving endlessly slow as the rain and thunder continued to echo in the distance. The soft patter of the endless rain made every small cut ache that much more, making each dulled sense that much duller. Xing Zheng felt as if the sensations would drive him mad, it seemed that even the heavens had chosen to betray him!
In another exchange, a shallow cut was drawn across the outside of his sword arm after Xing Hai had blown away a reverse wrist cut from him and countered. Another sting, this time the outside of his leg, once again his assault was beaten back and instantly a counter that landed yet… Something seemed wrong, how could all of Xing Hai’s explosive counter’s land so many times and only cause such minor wounds? Xing Zheng almost felt as if he was being played with at this point, his opponent a tiger pawing at a mouse in amusement.
Suddenly the air seemed to hum and even the constant fall of rain seemed to vibrate and pause. In that brief instant, both boys' eye’s met and Xing Zheng understood what was wrong. Faintly, he could feel that thing that had eluded him ever since he had reached the 3rd-grade martial artist level, the thing that separates 3rd grade from 2nd, a wisp of mental energy.
The realization hit Xing Zheng like a landslide, firstly he could sense the mental energy and as such must be on the edge of breaking through himself, but more importantly, this meant Xing Hai had already broken through! Being a son of a clan with immortals, Xing Zheng understood the strength difference between third and second-grade martial artists, from the beginning he had simply not been Xing Hai’s match.
His elder brother had simply been giving him face by allowing this charade to continue for as long as it had. Shame, indignation, bitterness, and rage-filled Xing Zheng’s heart however, he had no time to sort out these emotions as he noticed movement from his opponent. Xing Hai had sheathed his sword and now held it to his side in a low stance hand poised over the hilt as if to draw it.
Xing Zheng immediately recognized the technique and focused himself to the extreme. Suddenly Xing Hai disappeared, a blur moving at incredible speed rushing at him was all that Xing Zheng could see. With all his willpower and strength Xing Zheng swung a horizontal arc perpendicular to the vertical draw cut he knew was coming, a cut that would bisect him. The horizontal slash collided with something Xing Zheng couldn't even see and he was elated until he heard the sound of thunder behind him. Xing Zheng’s thoughts started to fade as indescribable pain enveloped the entire left-hand side of his body.
As darkness overtook his vision the last thing that he remembered seeing was the smiling face of his brother as they sat upon the steps of the palace, simply basking in the beauty of the place. It had been an eventful evening of sparing and a delicious meal had been left out for the two wayward noble boys by the cooks, now well used to their antics of staying out late after a few years of dealing with it. That moment the stars had shown brightly against the blanket of midnight that coated the sky making the world seem so vast. Slowly that vision shrank as the world shrank in his mind, falling away like his broken pride…
Xing Zheng stood up with a start, causing a shockwave to push out from his body, shaking the restriction formations in his cultivation chamber.
“128 years… and this scar remains,” Xing Zheng thought, noticing his left hand had subconsciously traced a finger along the scar.
That scar ran from the top of his brow down his face and to along his leg, a perfectly straight line, in the words of the presiding ancestor the strike had been “Truly fit to slay gods and demons”. Slay him it would have at that if not for the immediate usage of the healing array and attention from the cultivators that were watching the battle.
He had never figured out how his brother had become a second-grade martial artist so young. Nor how he had attained expert level attainment, something that normally took at least 5 years of practice with a technique of that level, in the core clan technique; however, his body had never forgotten that day. If Xing Zheng could speak with his brother today he wouldn’t know what to say, that is to say, he wouldn’t know how to thank him enough.