Fan Zhong awoke to a feeling of softness and warmth all around him as consciousness slowly seeped into his mind. Upon opening his eyes he was greeted by the sight of his mother cradling the upper half of his body in her arms while the rest of him was laid across a bundle of blankets. The piercing silver eyes of his mother carried a warmth he was unaccustomed to seeing with all of the worry to match.
“Mother? Where am I? What happened to Wang Qiang?” Fan Zhong managed to spit the words out after gathering his thoughts
“Shhh… you’re hurt Zhong’er. Your friend is fine and resting now” Fan Yahui’s voice carried the same tenderness and warmth as her eyes. She spoke quietly as if Fan Zhong were a delicate piece of jade that might break from the slightest bit of force.
Before passing out the last thing he remembered was the impending death about to rain down on the enemy reinforcements that had arrived in the Flowing Grass Field. Wang Qiang had been unconscious high in the tree and he had spent all of his energy, and seemingly more than that given his martial arts skills, defeating a single foe. At that time he had simply given himself up for dead before his mother had arrived like a hero out of a story.
Remembering the events leading up to that Fan Zhong realized he had killed a man for the first time that day. The remarkable thing was he felt… nothing? Growing up Fan Zhong had heard many stories of men throwing up on the spot or going into a deep depression when killing for the first time. However, oddly enough he felt no great passion upon this realization, was there something wrong with his mind?
He supposed it must be because the actions were justified. What was he supposed to do? Hold his neck out and ask for it to be cut cleanly. Although violence was no great pastime of his, suicide was also not something he felt any close kinship with. With this, it seemed logical to kill an opponent who was aiming to take his life. Feeling rested enough he pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned to face his mother.
“I’m feeling fine mother, thank you for taking care of this unfilial son. This one hopes he has not brought shame upon your name in this matter.” Fan Zhong spoke softly, eyes looking straight down, he truly felt a great shame at having run away to leave Wang Qian's clansmen to die.
If he had just been stronger, had taken his training more seriously just a few months sooner? Perhaps then he would have been fast enough and strong enough to stop the attack that had wounded his friend. Thinking of the danger presented to himself and Wang Qiang caused a fire to burn in him, a fire filled with self-loathing and anger that wished only to kill those who orchestrated such events.
“ Little Zhong, look at me” his mother gripped his chin raising his eyes to meet hers “there is no shame in fleeing a battle one cannot win. There were over a hundred enemies chasing you altogether. I very much doubt you could have fended them off even if your martial arts were stronger by even two realms. Truly I must praise you, how did you manage to defeat the first one? By my estimate, he must have been at least the peak of the Third-Grade realm if not a step into the Second-Grade realm, a troublesome opponent for someone with a week of training… Especially someone who would rather spend the end of that week slacking off.” her last words were reproachful and suited the image of his strict mother much better than the warmth and empathy he had first felt.
Fan Zhong had never been incredibly close with his mother, she had many duties to attend as the matriarch of the observer lineage within the clan and as such was usually training disciples or arranging missions and assignments for them. It was not that Fan Yahui was a cruel mother either in moments such as these where she had genuine cause to worry about the wellbeing of her children she was always attentive and caring to a degree. However, whether from the influence of the techniques she cultivated or simply from her personality his mother had never been one to be intimately personal even with family preferring to act as a strict monitor who had high expectations for members of the house.
In a way, Fan Zhong had always felt like his mother never stopped doing her job as an observer. So ingrained was the profession in her that the line between her duties and her person was seamlessly blended. This was why he had been slightly confused to find her personally attending him when he awoke.
With how busy she was it would not be strange for either a clan warrior or observer disciple to be set to watch for when he woke. Although he was surprised it filled his heart with a genuine feeling of gratitude that he had been personally doted on by his mother. Even if that did conjure minor embarrassment at such childish feelings pervading his mind.
“It was… as if my body moved on its own. Honestly, mother, if asked to repeat such a feat I doubt the heavens would allow it, a pure stroke of luck, it must have been.” Fan Zhong’s gaze wavered as he answered, he remembered that accompanying that palm strike had not simply been his feelings of martial prowess, shame blossomed in his stomach at recalling the negative emotions he felt towards his family and life that had been channeled through him at that moment. It was almost all he could do to avoid retching his empty stomach up on the spot at the memory.
“Dao resonance then? Truly son it is the misfortune of the heavens you hold little interest in the martial path, experience a resonance with the Eternal Dao in the moments of death? Something out of those heroic legends you enjoy hearing from the storytellers. Alas, I know your inclinations. However, there is a problem, having killed a clan enemy at a ranked martial realm this should qualify you for your Third-Grade realm ceremony in the clan. Thus your training requirements are fulfilled and your father and I have no say to hold you in the training grounds with your elder brother. Since you have bloodied your hands in service of the clan you are due the title and privilege as a full-grown man, rest well and we shall have your ceremony tomorrow night. From now whether you choose to continue your training or not is your decision, think on it while you recover” Rising to go as she finished speaking Fan Yahui wordlessly sat down a bundle next to Fan Zhong.
As she left Fan Zhong examined his mother and their surroundings. His mother was fair as ever with skin as pure as jade and raven black hair that seemed to swallow even night itself. With her movements grace exuded outward every single step natural as her perfect hair flowed behind her in a soundless motion while her azure golden martial arts robes seemed to follow the same motion as if one with her body. Even from the side, the piercing silver of her eyes seemed to remove all barriers, seeing all secrets and knowing all things.
Around him were normal dull furnishings of the training huts that sat atop the cliff he had been training on with Fan Cheng what seemed like an age ago now, although, in reality, it had only been two days. His bedroll sat at the back center wall of the room with torches burning in either corner, to his left on the opposite wall was the door leading out to the training clearing as well as a small writing desk in the corner of the far wall. The remaining corner of the room stood empty with only the sight of the tightly layered green bamboo that made up the hut visible. Having taken stock of his surroundings, and seeing it dark outside leaving him no time in the day to do anything else, Fan Zhong pulled the rather large cloth sack containing the bundle of objects onto his lap and undid the string keeping it closed.
Contained within the bundle was a set of calligraphy tools, one of his favorite hobbies. He remembers spending many nights staring at the stars in the sky and emptying his mind before spending all night practicing his calligraphy over and over again to master the most minute details of the characters. When doing so the feeling was a cathartic calm that washed over him, the grinding of the ink, the movement of the instruments, and the finished product. Every step was distinct yet somehow seemed to flow into each other adding up to more than the sum of their parts.
Next in the bundle was his lute, an instrument he had learned to play on account of Fan Yong. At first, the 4 string lute had not come easy to him, although repetition was something his calligraphy had accustomed him to, the endless playing of scales and basic rhymes to learn the rote basics of music had dulled him in a way akin to martial arts training. However, unlike martial arts, with music Fan Zhong was fascinated by the end result of learning an instrument. Hearing complicated melodies and tones mixed and infused together had always fascinated him even from the first time he attended the first zither recital he had met Fan Yong at.
Thus with much effort, as well as encouragement from his close friend, Fan Zhong had carefully mastered the fundamental notes and fingering necessary to play the lute resulting in a whole new world of music opening up to him. It had taken him 4 years to satisfy the private tutor hired by his parents enough to convince the old man to teach him how to start composing his own simple works. At this point, Fan Zhong had truly become a tiger gaining wings and the musicians in the village had taken notice of him.
Even though the basics had taken him 4 years to learn it only took a year of composing music for his works to be known by all of the circles that took interest in such things. Once his works became known he started holding regular recitals inviting all of the local musicians to hear the songs he composed. Sometimes these recitals were solo affairs and other times he had roped Fan Yong into doing duet pieces with him, once they had even roped Wang Qiang into singing as part of a song much to his chagrin.
Setting aside the lute Fan Zhong noted that there was a separate smaller bundle within the first, opening it revealed a set of plant fiber handwraps like those he saw the warriors of the clan use as well as a small booklet titled “Fan clan palm style fundamentals 9 palms subdue the 9 heavens”. He knew what the handwraps were as his brother had earned them upon becoming a clan warrior as well.
They were mortal magical treasures created from the fibers of the Flow Grass natural treasures that grew on the banks of the river, normally those used were 100 years old and provided a 5% boost to water and wood-aligned techniques. More importantly, the hand wraps had been strengthened by the energy they absorbed and were harder and stronger than any normal steel or metal while also being flexible as they were original strands of grass. This meant when clan warriors hand them on meeting enemy weapons with palm techniques without worry of injuring their hands.
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Looking at the hand wraps and manual Fan Zhong pondered the choices in front of him, of his parents his mother was far more supportive of his non-marital pursuits. In fact, she and his little sister had attended all of his lute recitals and even recommended his calligraphy pieces to their friends allowing him to earn pocket money from his work. With this in mind, he was sure she had not meant to force him into any one path, this bundle however was left as a subtle hint that this was a choice he had to make and an important one.
Would he stay weak the rest of his life allowing others to take on these dangerous burdens even if those others were his loved ones and friends? The other road was a grueling one, a trail that would drain much of the joy from his life and require him to shoulder the heavy duty he disdained so much. Was he strong enough to do so? Did he have the will for such a fight?
Firming his resolve Fan Zhong slowly unfurled the neatly wrapped handwraps and put them on, standing and falling into the family stance for the family palm style. At that moment he had made his choice. Upon leaving his training room hut Fan Zhong had found a set of golden martial arts robes folded neatly on a bench near the door, another item afforded to him with the official promotion to Third-Grade warrior he assumed. After taking a quick jog around the clearing and stretching he turned in for the night mentally preparing for the festivities to come.
Late the next afternoon Fan Zhong arrived at a staircase slightly above the base of the cliff that led into a clearing a few minute's walk from the village gates. All morning clan members had been rushing to and fro to prepare for this event and he had been confined to the training clearing! So much for freedom earned by his new title.
Alas, he understood, with the trouble that had occurred last time he left the village on a morning jog it was reasonable that his mother and father wished for him to remain somewhere he could be observed for the time being. While waiting he had been accompanied by Fan Yong of all people who had been allowed in the main family training grounds as special permission to keep him company. By speaking to him, Fan Zhong had learned much of what transpired the day he fought the black-robed assailants.
Apparently, the Wang clan convoy Wang Qiang had been leading back to his clan had stumbled upon a large number of these assailants rounding up villagers in small outlying settlements in the area and bringing them to a ritual site. This discovery had been made when they had started to make camp for the night and quickly they were attacked. Originally the party of Wang clan members had been transporting goods back to the clan headquarters along the return by order of their clan leader and as such, they had a sizable force of 50.
However, the black-robed assailants numbered over 200 and seemed to get stronger when one of them cut down or injured an opponent forcing the Wang clan to retreat! When Fan Zhong had found Wang Qiang they had been running for most of the night and obviously lost much of the original force and as such, it was honestly blind luck he had found them at all in time to save even Wang Qiang. After his mother had arrived apparently her fury had descended so viciously upon the remaining enemies that the younger observer disciples and warriors who came to provide reinforcements had directly passed out from the bloodshed they had seen.
Following this Fan Yahui had spent a great deal of time breaking through what was apparently a protective seal put on the mind of the lead assailant in the process almost completely breaking his mind. Afterward, once he started speaking and revealing information his face had twisted and exploded in a shower of blood, it was suspected to be some sort of fail-safe setup by his so-called ‘immortal master’.
In truth no one had believed that a vaunted immortal cultivator was behind the man, they were simply a group of trash bandits. Why would someone so powerful need them? If this master could truly destroy this entire mortal duchy that the valley resided in there was no reason to stoop to such means. As such it was assumed the man had been bluffing about this and senior observer disciple groups had been tasked with investigating the matter further, apparently, they were still hard at work.
Unfortunately even with Wang Qiang’s guidance to where this ritual site had been all that had been left were hundreds, if not a thousand or more, corpses dried and shriveled up inside a giant pit. Upon investigation these corpses had no wounds and the only possible way the observers could think they had been killed was with some kind of massive airborne poison or some technique to directly rip their souls out.
Neither outcome seemed good, if there truly was someone spreading airborne poison to kill so many who knows when it could carry downwind and have collateral damage! However this was unlikely as the user would have to be incredibly careful to not kill themselves in the process, the assailant group had seemed unorganized not utilizing battle formations or a concrete command structure. Poison was considered simply as the other option was incredibly unsavory… if it were truly the case that meant there was a demonic martial artist preying upon the valley.
Demonic martial artists were reviled by all as they pursued the path of power even at the cost of their humanity. Most demonic arts require killing massive amounts of other people and refining their blood or souls into demonic essence to rapidly increase one’s martial arts realm. While advancement is incredibly quick this way, often it draws the ire of others causing the demonic martial artist to be hunted down and killed early on.
Even aside from this demonic martial artists would risk increasing madness and corruption from the demonic essence they refined causing them to go insane. Usually, this manifested in the form of them going completely feral, turning more beast than man, and throwing off any semblance of humanity. Others would become increasingly addicted to killing others and in such a way slaughtering more and more people in the public eye.
With the former they would lose their understanding of martial arts and stagnate their ability to refine essence turning them into another dangerous animal that would terrorize locals, this type tended to live longer. The latter on the other hand would typically go so insane with killing intent that they would directly start killing their way into more and more dangerous strongholds of humanity until they burnt out like a blazing star that shines bright for a brief time.
Quick growth was not the scariest thing about demonic martial artists; however, what was terrifying was that they were rarely solitary practitioners. When tempted with the prospect of advancing in realms so easily and attaining hundreds of years of life span it was said the true measure of righteous men was taken as many failed and fell for this temptation. This led to chaos in regions as many greedy martial artists fought and died over trying to obtain the demonic arts from the dead practitioners quickly breaking down order and society in entire countries. It was not uncommon for an untreated demonic martial artist infestation to cause the collapse of entire kingdoms and even empires that had stood for thousands of years.
The mere thought of demonic arts had made Fan Zhong shudder, both in disgust and in a tiny part deep in his heart a spark of greed mingled with excitement. Quelling these emotions Fan Zhong returned his mind to the present and took in the ceremony grounds that had been prepared down the stairs. 4 Large hastily constructed pavilions ringed around a raised dais that contained a single large table and a few lesser tables on a lower level of the dais.
All around bright torches illuminated the clearing as the leaves of tall bamboo surrounding the clearing rustled with a gentle wind. The flames from the torches actually danced in the air above where they started forming intricate patterns that were set into formation talismans that ringed the entire celebration. Inside these patterns were copies of the songs he had composed and images of his calligraphy work.
Under the pavilions, each had a small stage upon which fair maidens with pure white robes danced with men who wore the shining golden robes of the clan. Besides, the dancers sat musicians holding zithers, drums, lutes, flutes, and even some exotic instruments that Fan Zhong himself did not recognize. Between the entertainers' stages and the tables that lined the outer edges of the pavilions were long tables filled with wines, fruits, and mouth-watering meats.
Smiling he bounded down the stairs running his hands along the golden clan banners that straddled either side of the stairway. His arrival was met with thunderous applause and clan members from all around shouted greetings to him as he took the central path between the two pavilions closest to the stairs making his way to the head table. At the end of the path was a stairway that led up to the raised dais and head table and there sat his entire family, father, and mother, younger sister, younger and elder brother all waiting for him in their finest clothes. As he approached the top his father nodded at him and spoke.
“Fan Zhong, yesterday you were a boy. One who had lived life enjoying the waters of youth, now you have faced the jaws of death in service to your clan and your family. No one who has shown such loyalty can be called a child even if you are still my Little Zhong” with these last words Fan Long smiled and beckoned him forth to kneel in front of him placing a hand on his shoulder “From today forth I proclaim you Fan Zhong warrior of the Fan clan and Third-Grade martial artist recognized by your peers here today, any who reject my claim speak now and I shall defend the honor of our new warrior personally”
Fan Zhong tried to hold in a gasp at these last words, his father had offered to defend him personally. Obviously, there were some who were unhappy with his elevated status from this event and Fan Long had foreseen trouble. It was not abnormal for the title speech to allow challengers to question the bestowment of the clan warrior title however no one took it up, and it was considered a formality and just a courtesy. Even when the title was questioned, traditionally a warrior defended their own claim to the title, it seemed apparent his father was giving preferential treatment to him to ensure this ceremony went smoothly. Upon hearing these words from the clan leader directly dead quiet settled upon the celebration, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. After a few moments of waiting, Fan Long nodded his head feeling he had given ample time for anyone to speak up.
“It is done then, drink and celebrate my son. Today the clan recognizes you as a warrior! Rise and greet your clan as a new man!” Fan Long’s voice was enhanced by his Qi this time and boomed over the place causing the entire crowd to burst into a roaring cheer as Fan Zhong stood from his kneeling position.
“Father this son has a small request if you would hear it” Fan Zhong spoke in a calm voice, Fan Long’s eyebrows rose in surprise but he nodded and motioned for silence “This son has been unfilial to both mother and father, for too long I have drunk from the waters of youth sown with the blood of our clan's heroes. Too long have I remained muddle-headed neglecting the duties heaven sets forth. Please honored father, mother, brothers, and sister instruct me in the martial way. Allow me to gain the strength that meets your approval, to defend those that are close to me and to never flee again!” with this Fan Zhong kowtowed three times each so hard his head struck the stairway so hard it left blood behind.
“Are you sure? You don-” his mother started a worried expression on her face
“Please instruct!” Fan Zhong yelled and kept his head on the floor.
“Rise son, look at me” Fan Long commanded this time the Qi in his voice so strong it pressed down on everyone gathered in the clearing, his commanding presence akin to a royal decree from an immortal emperor to those gathered here.
Fan Zhong struggled to raise his head under the pressure of his father’s gathering qi. When their eyes met his gaze burned with a fire that seemed to dwarf the heavens themselves. Fan Long almost stumbled looking into those eyes, a look of determined passion he had never thought to see from his son. In the next instant Fan Zhong saw in his father’s eyes that which he always wanted, pride for him and him alone.
“Excellent, excellent rise, Warrior Fan Zhong, rise and grow strong!” Immediately Fan Long exhaled all the qi he had gathered into these last words, the sound so loud it almost blew Fan Zhong clean off the steps.
Fan Zhong rose smiling, his back seeming taller and prouder than it ever had in his entire life as he let loose a roaring cheer with the rest of the crowd.