The sounds of the chase grew distant until silence descended on the pair. The sparring from JaLong temple school had ceased and there was no sign of movement from the courtyard. The winter brought a deep and barren silence only possible without the chirping of insects.

Xiao’s face was more guarded now. His dark eyes observed Shang with an eerie calmness. Shang readied himself. His feet shifted into the second kata, feet slightly apart and solidly planted into the dirt, heels first.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Xiao asked. Shang could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. There was no right answer.

“No, Elder Brother. Little Brother does not mean to be rude. Little Brother is thoughtless and clumsy and begs for forgiveness.” Shang tipped his head forward in apology but maintained his ready stance.

“You’re not nearly as smart as you think you are. I know you let that weasel go on purpose," he snapped. "I try my best to be kind to you despite your…infirmity…but you only spit on my kindness. Your words are sweet now, but your actions speak otherwise.” Xiao started circling him.

His pace was not threatening, and he did not look at Shang as he spoke. “Though to give you credit, growing up, I always thought you were an idiot,” he said in a conversational tone. “You were always making a fool out of yourself. I used to envy you for your lack of shame. But now I see how sly you are. You and your family are without honor, so you shamelessly attach yourself to those stronger than you. Like a parasite.”

Of course, in the end, this was about YiHua and Xin. Xiao stopped circling and faced Shang. He was only a few feet away from him now. Shang felt the hairs on his arms prickle in anticipation of a strike. He was not expecting to be hit before, but now he was ready. Shang did not think there was any chance he could ever win in a match against a cultivator, but maybe he could keep himself from dying immediately. He hoped he could hold on until someone from the school could intervene.

“Do you know, Little Brother, what is worse than being a weakling?” Xiao asked. Shang didn't break his breathing technique to answer, though he couldn’t imagine what answer would help him now. He shook his head slightly, eyes focused on Shang’s dominant leg and hand. “Being a weakling who doesn’t know his place.” The strike came as expected. A low jab of the right fist to the abdomen. Even though Shang expected it, it was almost too fast for his eyes to perceive. He was barely able to deflect the blow with an open palm.

Deflecting was perhaps too strong a word. His hands ached terribly, and Shang guessed that his wrist was at least sprained. The pure speed and strength of the attack was shocking. Shang often sparred with his father because martial arts was his father’s preferred artform. His father’s praise and the encouragement from his mother and friends made him believe that he was truly talented at martial arts.

Now he could see that it was just a delusion. His form of fighting was nothing but show. It was overly concerned about flow and symmetry, but the realities of combat were far crueler. Shang simply did not have the same strength and speed to keep up with a real fighter. Xiao’s next attack was also as predicted. A low kick followed by an open palm to the chest. Shang barely managed to twist out of the blows.

“I see even a sly rat has his tricks,” Xiao said. His handsome face was contorted in a sick grin. The next attacks came in quick succession, each faster than the previous. Shang pushed himself to block or dodge each attack. The fear and dread that gripped him was dissipating as he focused his whole body, mind, and soul into surviving. He couldn’t fully dodge every move and his body was getting numb from the successive battering. The pain had yet to register but Shang knew it would be debilitating if he got out of this alive.

As the fight dragged on, Xiao’s smug look soon dropped from his face, replaced with an animalistic anger. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Always trying to make a fool out of me,” Xiao spat. The barrage of attacks ceased for a second. Shang stood panting, faintly aware that his head was bleeding. The blood was dripping down the side of his face, hampering the sight in his right eye.

There was a visible change to Xiao as he stopped to cycle. Though Shang could not sense it, he had seen it enough to identify. Xiao’s chest puffed out as his exhaled breath glistened in the noon sun. Shang could not even brace himself for the next strike. The next thing he knew, he was flying across the road. His body slammed against the temple walls with a crunch.

Shang gasped for air. Each intake of breath brought a stabbing pain to his chest. Shang did not know what was broken. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could even breathe. His whole body was fighting against him, refusing to register any of his commands.

From the corner of his eye, he could see XiaoXi approaching. He rested his foot on the upper portion of his leg. “Why don’t we see how smug you are when you’re a cripple. Well, even more so than you already are,” Xiao said. “And this time, that big monkey won’t be there to save you. I can’t believe he used that blood gem on you. What a waste.” Shang screamed as the pressure on his leg increased. The pain came at him in a torrent. All he could do was scream.

“Brother, that’s enough.” Shang managed to open his eyes. Luckily his savior was in his line of sight because he was incapable of moving his head. She was not someone he expected. Fang stood behind her brother with a hand resting on her brother’s shoulder. “You can’t afford to get in trouble right now. Not at a time like this.” Her words finally seemed to reach Xiao. The sadistic grin gradually slipped from his face and the pressure on Shang’s leg lessened.

“I wasn’t going to kill him. I was just teaching him a lesson in humility,” he replied nonchalantly.

“I think he got the lesson,” Fang responded. Her tone was level, free of any emotion. Xiao shrugged and stepped back.

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“Fine, I have better things to do. You take care of this, baby sister,” he said, gesturing at Shang’s crumpled form. “Or not, you can just leave him here. Someone will find him.” Xiao walked off without a backward glance in the same direction as his friends. Shang, even in his sorry state, managed to feel a pang of fear for his little companion. He prayed to the heavens that it had a better fate than he did.

“Can you stand?” Fang asked. She crouched in front of Shang, eyes roving his injured form.

“I don’t think so,” Shang croaked out. Though YiHua and Fang were always in competition, he had very little contact with Fang personally. They rarely spoke. She was more reserved than her brother and even during their house calls to the headmaster’s mansion, she generally stayed in their private courtyard. From Shang’s father, he knew she was an avid weiqi player and had a keen ear for music. Shang had never given her much thought, but his evaluation of her shot up tremendously in the last few minutes. She nodded and moved to help him up into a sitting position.

“What happened?” She asked. Shang groaned in response, his whole body throbbing. He registered a broken forearm and dislocated shoulder. His head felt light from blood loss.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I can honestly say that it was not my fault.”

“I somehow really doubt that.”

“It’s true. I am a victim of fate and your brother’s poor sense of humor,” Shang said with a chuckle. He may have noticed a faint smile from his savior, but maybe he imagined it.

“How can you joke at a time like this,” she asked incredulously.

“It really is a funny situation.” Shang explained the events that led to his battered state. He may have embellished a few details but really, he was giddy to still be alive.

“I see what you mean now. A true victim of fate and my brother’s poor sense of humor,” Fang relented. Shang wasn’t sure if she was teasing him. He couldn’t read her expression very well. It might have had something to do with his blurry vision, but her stern face didn’t help.

“We should get you to a healer. The master elder is away so he’s not an option. I can take you to the healing house and see who’s there.”

“No, if you take me there, my mom will find out immediately, and she’ll freak out.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” She asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“You don’t know my mom. She’s a million times scarier than your brother,” Shang said, only half joking.

“You can’t expect to hide your injuries from her. It’ll take you weeks if not months to heal.”

“I know, but I just want to get most of the small stuff patched up, so I don’t look so…”

“Terrible? Pathetic?” Fang asked.

“I’m already injured, give me a break with the insults,” Shang groaned.

“Okay, I can take you to our private family healer,” Fang conceded. Shang lifted an eyebrow at her suggestion and immediately regretted it. Who knew lifting an eyebrow could be so painful.

“That’s pretty ironic isn’t it, given it’s your family that did this,” Shang said. Fang glanced away at his comment, looking uncomfortable. Shang chided himself for being so ungrateful.

“Well, it’s the least I can do.” Fang looked distinctly guilty. Shang was getting better at reading her expressions.

“Definitely, not the least. Thank you, Elder Sister. You really saved me. I am truly in your debt.” Shang tipped his head in respect. Fang shook her head slightly.

“You don’t have to call me that. Fang is fine.” Shang tried to give her an encouraging smile, but it must have, from the expression on her face, turned out less than ideal. With many groans and curses, Fang finally managed to get Shang into a semi-standing position. Luckily, they did not have to travel far. The headmaster’s estate was almost connected to the temple school. Fang half led and half dragged Shang into the family compound. Even though he had been to their home on multiple occasions, it never failed to awe him with its sheer grandeur.

Fang led him past the serving house, deeper into the property. They passed a soft clay field, peppered with weapons and training dolls. “This is where we train, when we come home from temple.” Shang grunted in acknowledgement.

Despite her diminutive size, he could tell from Fang’s rough calluses and easy strength that she was a skilled cultivator. The training at JaLong was intensive, starting from dawn and often going until the sun disappeared behind the mountain peaks. To train outside of that seemed excessive to Shang. He knew Xin and YiHua often did the same. Despite their natural talents, hard work was not an option if you wanted any success in cultivation.

“I’m impressed. With you and your brother,” Shang admitted.

“I’m impressed with you too. I couldn’t believe how well you held up. At least in the beginning.”

Shang’s eyes shot open at her words. “Wait, you mean you were there the whole time?! Why didn’t you stop him?”

“When I got there, you were already fighting. My brother is hot tempered. If I had stepped in when you were holding your ground, things may have ended even worse for you. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you,” she glanced at his injuries, “too bad, at least.” Shang sighed in response. “I would like to see some of those techniques you used. They were interesting, I never thought you could apply martial arts moves in that way. Sure, they look pretty, but I never knew they had real utility in battle. If you had a bit more speed and power, it would have been an interesting fight.” She winced as she finished her sentence. She was obviously discomforted by any mention of my blocked meridians. For her, and many like her, weakness of the spirit felt contagious. It was the worst possible thing that could happen to any cultivator.

“Thanks, I can show you sometime. To show my gratitude for saving me, even if it was a bit late.” They arrived at the back of the training field. Shang laid down on the healer’s cot and breathed a sigh of relief.

“The healer should be here soon. I can leave you here to rest,” she offered.

“I would prefer it if you stayed. Talking helps distract me from the pain,” Shang said. Reluctantly, Fang pulled up a chair. Shang was surprised at how agreeable she was. It was hard to imagine that she was so closely related to Xiao.

They spoke of pleasant nothings as they waited. Shang let the soft tones of her voice lull him into something that resembled sleep.