“I want a real duel!” Billy’s face crumpled with rage and his right hand gently caressed his neck. Da Shan had withdrawn his blade and held it casually in one hand over his shoulder.
“Sit down Billy… or I will make you sit down.”
“You can’t —”
Thwack! Before Billy could finish his protest, the flat of Da Shan’s blade belted him across the face, then, with an inward step that seemed to defy the laws of physics, Da Shan lifted his weapon and smashed the butt of his sword on Billy’s nose. It exploded in blood. With a resounding plop! Billy landed on the stage and clutched his nose in agony. Before he could writhe or cry out in pain, Da Shan booted him off the stage and onto the ground. The students were aghast, but Deloris’ face was somber. By all rights Da Shan shouldn’t even be able to injure Billy, the boy was a Martial Cultivator and specialized in strength. His body was strong, and his raw power definitely exceeded that of Da Shan’s. Whatever Da Shan lacked in power he made up for with experience. Intermingled with the faces of shock were some pensive expressions, typically in battles between students it was cultivation rank or accumulated manna which decided the winner. There was the occasional upset, but it was rare to have someone cross an entire grade and claim victory.
As Billy picked himself up from the floor, fear replacing the hatred in his eyes Da Shan paused a moment and ran a hand through his greasy hair before bellowing out, “Who thinks I was unfair to Billy… raise your hand!”
Nearly all the hands went up.
“Who thinks fairness matters?”
The hands remained up.
“Does that bring Cindy back from the dead?”
Jillian winced in response, no doubt reflecting on the death of Jack. She couldn’t turn back the hands of time, no one could. As the realization set in the hands slowly went down, starting with the older students and then the younger students. Da Shan stood with his legs shoulder width apart and his chest puffed out.
A student raised his hand to ask a question.
Da Shan nodded.
The boy stood up, it was the arrogant fop from in front of Ed’s store, the one Da Shan had screwed with. His right hand was swollen to almost twice its size, Da Shan felt a small tinge of regret at the prank he had played.
The boy’s blonde hair bounced as he spoke, “Elder.” He began.
Some students seemed surprised at the deep respect in his voice, Da Shan himself was especially surprised. But the boy continued.
“My name is Tyler; my cultivation is the lowest in my year and I have lost every duel.”
A chorus of snickers sounded, but the boy had the arrogant bearing of a noble. He ignored them.
Before he continued Da Shan raised his hand, stopping him.
“You are nearly a mortal…” He said.
The boy blushed, but proudly proclaimed, “For services rendered to McCarthy during the Great War hundreds of years ago, one of us is selected by lottery to join the Academy — regardless of aptitude.”
Da Shan nodded sagely, as if he had known this all along. Then tilted his head to the side, “What is your family name?”
“Du Puiset.”
“Ah, I see, continue.”
Tyler cleared his throat, “How can I learn to defeat those stronger than me like you?”
Da Shan smiled, “If you defeat someone they clearly weren’t stronger than you. They may appear stronger, but they are not stronger.”
Tyler look flustered, “Yes I know! But I want to —”
“The precise answer is different for everyone, but in general, many people with talent and potential — like Cindy — fail to reach great heights. Part of it is luck, another part is hard work. The final part is math. Do the math, if you can’t win, don’t fight.”
Tyler looked annoyed at the answer, “But how can I be a better cultivator! I want to pursue the Grand Meaning, I want to become stronger.” He clenched his non-swollen hand, “I want to win.”
“Many people claim to cultivate in pursuit of the, ‘Grand Meaning’. It has many names. Some call it the dao, an archaic word and unsuitable for our purposes tonight. Even the phrase ‘Grand Meaning’ is a little off. Here is the problem, life exists. That’s it. Justice and fairness do not. Life is the greatest quantifiable metric of morality and meaning. Justice and fairness are only relevant so far as they preserve life or ensure quality of life. You think life is unfair, but that’s nonsense. Fairness is a category that cannot fit onto life, life is just life. A centimeter is just a centimeter and a foot is a foot. You don’t ask if the centimeter or the foot is unfair, it’s just a metric. The Grand Meaning of life is that there is no meaning of life. Meaning doesn’t exist.”
Da Shan’s eyes panned to Tyler, who incredibly frustrated at Da Shan’s responses, sat down. The students murmured to themselves, some were pensive, some provoked, some confused, but all were affected in some way.
A girl’s voice cried out, “What are we in pursuit of? What’s the meaning of it all?”
Da Shan sheathed his blade and folded his hands behind his back like a wizened old man and tsked softly, “Life has no meaning, fairness doesn't really exist and our society's cheap attempts at fairness always seem incredibly unfair. See, though life has no meaning, human life has meaning. The world is not fair, the animals are not fair. But we can be fair. We can be just. We are more than just alive. Plants are alive, dogs are alive, but they are not human… they are not less living than us… but they are not human. The great pursuit of life is this: ‘What does it mean to be human?’ So abandon this quest of the ‘Grand Meaning’ and instead look to yourself, and then look to the world around you and ask this question: ‘What is my place in all of this? What should the world be?!'”
The students looked around in confusion, the occasional Teacher and Elder in the audience was a little more thoughtful. But many were derisive. Some of the more animal-centric members of the student body were already formulating a proper protest against the barbarian known as Da Shan. But the Elder of Mediocrity had a couple more tidbits for them. Da Shan was feeling that his time was up.
“Before I leave, let me give you two valuable lessons. The first, is a lesson in logic. The sum of the whole is greater than the parts. Look at my sword. It has a blade, it has a hilt, leather wrapping etc. All these when separated are just parts, but when they are assembled together, they become a sword. They are just things apart from my sword, but when metal is fashioned to a blade, nothing has changed but the shape... But I tell you it is greater!"
There was a chorus of nods. This was an obvious truth. It was one of the small miracles of life, how certain things took on a life of their own as they were used. They weren’t just lumps of physical matter, they were ideas too — existing in reality and out of reality. Da Shan continued his argument.
"So it is with life. Moments are part of life, the little moments we have from day to day are part of life. They can be fun, but they are just parts. Life itself is also just a part of human existence. So is death. So is sickness. So is health. The he sum of the whole, not just life, not just death — but all human existence, that… that is greater than the parts. The pursuit of the Grand Meaning is part of the domain of Life, only — if life is just a small part of human existence, how much more so the Grand Meaning itself? The meaning of human existence cannot be found in the parts of human existence, but in the telos or purpose of human existence. Just as the meaning of “sword” cannot be found in steel, leather or hilt… but its purpose must be found."
At this point an Elder interrupted Da Shan, "What is the meaning of ‘Sword’ to you?"
"It is ‘friend’." Da Shan’s answer was crisp and true, but his face seemed to sag with grief and his body bow with age. He and his friend had seen much together, caused great sorrow and received great sorrow.
The Elder bowed respectfully, seeing the change in Da Shan. It was an immensely personal question after all. After he bowed he sat down and pensively looked up, lost in thought. Da Shan continued.
"Therefore, the purpose of life is not in life itself, nor is the purpose of cultivation in cultivation itself. The real question is this, is there a grand purpose behind humanity or are we mindless beasts? Do we need to create this grand purpose or must it be found? There are a few other options… but you get the point.”
Da Shan paused dramatically before continuing with a flourish.
“The last tidbit I have for you is very simple. You are all very weak. There are many out there stronger than you and life is fragile and though life itself has no meaning… it is the most important measure of meaning. A sword without a blade is no sword. Do not bother applying the question of fair or unfair, first are you alive? If so… ensure that you keep things that way… or you’ll never be able to discover the telos of life… or the ‘Grand Meaning’. Why be fair in battle if it costs you your life? Unless you think the grand purpose of your life is to make it fair… then by all means die a foolish — er um — honorable death. Okay? Dismissed.”
At those words, Da Shan turned roundabout and walked off the stage as unceremoniously as he entered. As he walked off Jillian tried to get up and follow him, but James pulled her back and whispered in her ear. The both of them quietly slipped out the back, James and Da Shan sharing a long meaningful look before they separated.
Walking away from the school Da Shan’s mind purred with self-satisfaction as he strode back to the red brick dormitory. Damn, I am so cool. Noticing that Deloris was nowhere in sight, he confidently stomped up the stone steps and into the building. Winding his way through the building he finally reached a simple and weathered wooden door. This place had been his home for almost two hundred years, a sudden feeling of nostalgia gripped him as he slid a key in the lock. Ducking into his room he closed the door. Locked it. Pulled out a couple contraptions from his kimono and triple locked the door. Taking a moment, Da Shan surveyed his room. His dull brown writing desk was in order and his single bed remained unmoved, his closets were as bare as he had left them, empty and devoid of items as the Chancellor had said. The only decoration in his room was an autographed poster of the N’Sync Boys. Da Shan’s beady eyes zeroed in on his bed and they danced with triumphant satisfaction. He took a step forward and then hesitated. He then reached into his kimono and pulled out a grenade-like object and set up a trap on the door handle. Smacking his hands with delight he strode towards his bed.
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“Let’s see the Chancellor sneak in here now… Hehehe. This son in-law of mine, so strong yet so stupid. Didn’t find anything you say… Hehehe… nothing in the room you say. That’s because you didn’t check my neighbour’s room!” With a maniacal laugh Da Shan dragged his bed away from the wall and knocked with a bizarre pattern on various parts of the wall. Click! With his knocking complete a hidden compartment in his closet popped open. Da Shan scurried over like the fiend he was and took out a strangely shaped key. Taking the key in hand he peeled back his N’Sync Boys poster to reveal a keyhole that matched the strange key. With a clunk and a whir, the key turned in the hole and heaving at the key, Da Shan pulled, and opened the hidden door. Reaching into this other hidden compartment Da Shan pulled out a lock safe box. Placing it in his lap he grinned as he got to work. Fiddling with a couple combinations and a couple keys from his kimono later, he opened the box and pulled out a small, golden room key. Da Shan then carefully opened his door — without setting off the traps he had set earlier — and snuck over to his neighbour’s room and putting the key in the lock opened the door, he dashed into the room and shut the door and double secret locked it as well. Grinning evilly, and congratulating himself on his intricate planning, Da Shan surveyed his hidden lair. He then noticed a small problem with the timing of his brilliant move.
“Da Shan? Da frig you doing in my room?”
His neighbour was home. Da Shan’s brain worked at the speed of light.
“What’s up Paul… I uh… I thought you were gone for a week.”
“That was last week.”
Da Shan’s brain failed to surpass lightspeed.
Paul’s muscular body and black hair cut an imposing figure, all the more amplified by the fact that he had sat straight up on the bed, his black tank top revealing the definition of his muscles and the damage they’d been dealt. Scars crisscrossed his body and his aquiline nose and square jaw were looking a little dusty. Paul’s hand reached into his pant pocket, casually.
“Let me ask you again buddy, what are you doing in my room?”
“Oh, this is your room! Oh, dang man! See I totally got confused. I’m 303 you’re 302, man, and that “2” is looking a lot like a “3” sometimes. Especially when you follow the curvature of the hump and all that. Hehe! A well curved hump is a good thing you know what I’m saying Paul? It’s all a mistake! I’ll come back later — I mean — I’ll be going to my room now.”
“How’d you get in?” Paul pulled a flintlock pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Da Shan. “Answer me or I’ll blow your brains out, how’d you get in?”
Da Shan peered intently at the strange weapon in Paul’s hand, “What is that weird contraption?”
“The gun?”
“G — u — n… what a strange word…” Da Shan carefully said each letter as if somehow knowing the spelling of the word would provide illumination. Paul paid no mind to this behaviour, Da Shan’s reputation as an especially average man and oddness insulated him from a lot of scrutiny. Something Da Shan himself didn’t mind. Paul’s eyes lit up as if remembering something.
“Oh right, you were off on that mission for the past month so you missed all the news.”
“Yeah.”
“How’d that mission go?”
Da Shan absently scratched his beard, “It went well, mind if I sit?”
Paul motioned to a chair with the flintlock pistol in his hand. Da Shan plopped himself down and groaned with pleasure at the chance to relax.
After waiting a moment Paul waved the gun and asked, “Didn’t you go out for another one right after? That emergency mission right, sometime today?”
“Yeah, the Witch Hunt…”
Paul let out a low whistle, “Those are always the most dangerous… Captain was on it right?” He waited for Da Shan’s nod before continuing, “And Cindy right?” He barely waited for Da Shan’s nod before he chuckled, “You know she likes you right?”
Da Shan’s brown eyes panned to Paul with an expression that resembled a dead fish.
Paul sighed, “You are difficult one to talk to.”
Da Shan nodded, “Indeed, some people are hard to communicate to.”
Paul felt a vein pop in his forehead, “I was talking about you!”
Da Shan nodded solemnly, “I know Paul, I too have great difficulty with some people! I sympathize with you.”
Paul let out a sigh of resignation, then leaned forward and whispered, “Is the list out yet?”
“McCarthy won’t post a full list of the dead.”
After a sharp inhalation of breath, Paul whispered softly, “Was it that bad?”
Da Shan, who had pulled out some used tea leaves and was airing them out, paused his task to nod.
Paul leaned back, thoughtful. He waited for Da Shan to stow the tea leaves before asking again, “Who made it back?”
“Just me.”
“Damn man, real shame.”
“They were good people…” Da Shan frowned, “So what’s a gun…” He hesitantly pointed at the flintlock pistol in Paul’s hand.
An impish grin split Paul’s fierce looking face. A look that so unsuited him Da Shan was unsure if he was feeling sick from the sight, not noticing Da Shan’s obvious discomfort Paul nearly exploded with excitement.
“See this is the latest secular weapon, it’s top secret though, hasn’t hit the battlefield yet. All the cultivators have been talkin’ ‘bout it for awhile.”
“Ah, what’s it do?”
“It shoots bullets.”
“B — u — l — l —”
“Okay stop man, you don’t need to spell it out. Yeah, see here! You throw in some powder, cotton, a ball and whazam! With a pull of the trigger it shoots this ball of lead so fast in can puncture through steel.”
Da Shan’s eyes widened, “The secular wars will get a lot more dangerous with this stuff.”
Paul shrugged, “Times are changing, cultivators are trying to find a use for these weapons, but it’s not going too well.”
“You think the cultivators will wipe out the people who designed these weapons, stop them from distributing. If the secular armies keep getting stronger…”
Paul scratched his chin thoughtfully, “Prolly, I imagine the Cultivator Cabals will kill them all. They don’t like the seculars advancing too much… they let the light bulb go though.”
“May I?”
“By all means.”
Da Shan took the pistol in hand and examined it, his hands ran along the engraving and golden patterns inlaid in the wood. It was an impressive piece of equipment; the secular world was advancing at an alarming rate. Da Shan pursed his lips thoughtfully, “It can probably kill a lot of the lower ranked cultivators, probably a lot of the Lieutenant Grade people wouldn’t survive a run in with this.”
“If you get behind someone without any body resistance… man, a powerless secular guy could kill some of those Psyker Captains. But, it's not that accurate and getting the bullets and powder's a pain.”
Da Shan nodded placidly, then turned to Paul, “I want to see how powerful this thing is, want to shoot me with it?”
“Oh, sure… how many paces?”
“Just from one end of the room, ah! Actually, let’s go in the hallway.”
“Good plan.”
“How’d you get your hands on this anyways?”
“My cousin is one of the inventors… he made a longer version called ‘the rifle’ or something like that.”
“Wild.”
“I know eh? Okay, you ready?”
“Yeah, you ever shot this before?”
“A couple times in practice.”
Da Shan drew his sword and stood 10 paces away from Paul, he then — with a flourish — hoisted the blade over his head, “Alright Paul, give me one —”
Bang! Da Shan yelped as the crack of the gun went off.
“Paul what the frig!”
“Oh damn man, I’m sorry!”
“You elf-skin!”
“You said ‘alright’!” Paul’s sheepish tone showing he didn’t believe his own excuse.
Da Shan appeared livid, though his face was still profoundly neutral, “Not ‘alright’ as in go ahead you knave… ow frig. Prick me!”
“What’s that on the floor?” Paul scrunched his face as he stared at a bloody object on the floor.
Da Shan gasped, “Is that my… finger?”
“Hell man… I’m so —”
“That’s my finger!”
“Geez man… like… mixed signals eh? … uh…”
“Oh my gosh look at all this blood!” Da Shan’s eyes went wide as he stared at the fountain of blood gushing from his hand, his normally blank face now warped with pain as the shock had worn off.
“Frick! I’ll get a band-aid!”
“Prick you man! You think that’ll fix this, I’d flip you off but…” Paul snickered in response, then Da Shan's face went pale, he continued, “Oh my gosh… I’m bleeding so much. I feel faint, the edges of my vision are getting dark…”
Paul stepped up to try and grab Da Shan's hand, “Dude why is it gushing like that?”
Da Shan jerked back and glared at him, “GET A DOCTOR YOU TWIT!”
“Sorry man! I’m sorry!”
Paul dashed off and raced down the hall, down the stairs and out the door —screaming for a doctor. After Paul had left, Da Shan’s face — which was previously contorted in pain — returned to neutrality. He walked to the door and using his non-bloodied hand, unlocked it for the second time.
“Ah, wouldn’t want to leave a bloody trail now,” he remarked to himself. Pulling a cloth from his kimono, he wrapped it around his bloody hand and then walked into the room. In a few quick strides he was at the bed, deftly he reached into the pillow case, tore a hole in the pillow and pulled out a gnarled bronze key. Admiring the key for a moment he shoved it into his kimono and went back out to the hall. Lay on the ground and curled up into the fetal position, put away the cloth, squeezed out some more blood for good measure and waited. As soon as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, he started whimpering with pain.
“Da Shan is everything alright?”
“Old man Ed?”
“Old man my cheeks… you’re the old coot here… frig… is that your finger over there?”
“No it’s Paul’s.” Da Shan responded dryly.
Ed rolled his eyes, “Here, I’ll go get it.”
Paul wrung his hands like a nervous school girl, “Like I said Da Shan… I’m really sorry.”
“It’s all good man, Ed will patch me up just fine… let’s do that again, this time when I’m ready.” Da Shan casually waved off his apology as a stream of blood trickled down his hand, his face looking a little pale.
“Sounds good, let me just reload.”
“You have to reload it after every shot?”
“Yeah, takes about twenty seconds,”
Da Shan frowned, “That’s inefficient and loud.”
Paul shrugged and started to reload the pistol.
“Is that a gun?” Ed looked up from applying a poultice on the stub where the finger used to be.
“Yeah.”
Ed snorted, “Nice, I’ve heard it’s quite the deadly weapon… evidently someone’s not a very good body cultivator… otherwise the bullet shouldn’t even have broken skin.”
“Ed… you know I’m not a body cultivator.”
“What kind of cultivator are you Da Shan?” Paul had just finished putting powder down the barrel and started wrapping a lead ball in a cotton pad.
“It’s a secret.”
Ed shook his head at Da Shan's response, “Don’t bother asking Paul… this guy’s some sort of big shot when it comes to his cultivation. He acts all high n’mighty all the time.”
Paul flexed a bicep casually and thumbed his nose, “Well apparently he’s pretty strong, I heard he just beat Billy Arnold senseless as part of a lecture.”
“… Get out!” Ed dropped Da Shan’s finger in shock. A glare from a Da Shan and a couple mumbled apologies later, Ed resumed stitching. Ed shot a glance to Da Shan and then asked quietly, “You bloodied Billy’s nose?”
“Yeah, taught him a valuable lesson.”
Ed's tone was incredulous, “Isn’t Billy the student the Chancellor wants to disciple?”
“I told you Ed, the Chancellor and I go way back, he won’t be mad. Well… he might be mad… but he won’t do anything about it. The guy’s the strong silent type.
“Uh huh.” Ed nodded insincerely.
“You know the Chancellor?” Paul looked genuinely impressed as he looked at Da Shan, a hint of admiration in his voice.
Da Shan puffed out his chest and was about to tell stories of his greatness, but Ed cut him off, “Please don’t get him started… I’ve been hearing this junk for far too long.”
Annoyed Da Shan curtly asked, “You done Ed?”
“Yeah Da Da, got the finger all good, the ball took a chunk off though. So uh… your middle finger is gunna be shorter by a centimeter or so. Take this pill here, it should mend in seconds now that it’s properly attached.”
Da Shan’s eyebrows twitched, “… What did you just say?”
Paul shuffled awkwardly and cleared his throat, “Da Shan… I’m real sorry man… I thought you were ready.”
“It’s fine Paul. Say it again though Ed.”
“Yeah, the middle finger is gunna be shorter than it was before.”
“… Do I have full functionality?”
“I suppose, you probably don’t want to flip anyone off though… on account of it looking a little funny…” Ed’s voice trailed off as he noticed Da Shan’s eyes sparkling with a look of intense irritation. Ed coughed, a little too forcefully to be natural, then cleared his throat and looked around. “Weren’t you two going to do a gun… you know… demonstration.”
Da Shan’s eyes lit up, “Yeah we were. Paul you ready?”
Ed sighed in relief and got up from the ground.
Paul checked the gun. “Yeah man, I’m ready.”
Da Shan gestured to Ed, “You should stand behind Paul.”
Ed nodded and then walked behind Paul and tried to discretely look over his shoulder, carefully examining the pistol in Paul’s hand. Da Shan drew his sword again, gripped it in both hands and held it in the waki gamae position. Then nodded to Paul. Paul nodded back.
Bang! A puff of smoke and a flash of light.
But before Paul or Ed could fully register the gun shot, they heard another sound. The soft clang of metal on metal. And two dull thuds. The smoke cleared, their senses focused and then their eyes went wide. Da Shan had split the bullet in half — both halves had careened into the wall — and he returned to waki gamae before they could comprehend what had happened.
Paul let out a low whistle, “Hot damn.”
Da Shan stowed his blade in his kimono pocket and dusted his hands, “That’s a fierce weapon… the reload time is a bit problematic… plus it can’t really evolve that much I suppose. Anyways, have good day Paul.”
“… Uh… yeah… you too Da Shan.”
“See you tonight Ed.”
“Yeah… the Bridge of Nineteen Sparrows right?”
“The very same.”
Da Shan went into his room and closed the door and after a few awkward moments Paul went back into his room, waving farewell to Ed and leaving him alone in the hall. Ed rubbed his shiny head vigorously, wiping sweat from the crown of his head. He looked at Da Shan’s door and then mumbled to himself, “What have I gotten myself into?”