‘Fuck the Great Three, it’s just Great Liao.’
—Xiao Jiu, the Lady Liao, on the War of Three Clans.
The world broke on the first day of the week with no warning that any diviner could claim to have noticed. It broke with no regard to those who lived upon it, and it broke in such a way that no mortal hands could ever piece it back together. Liao Hua did not know that the war in heaven would shatter her life so profoundly.
The day the world broke, Liao Hua found herself at the clan training grounds in the early hours of the morning. Before the sun dared rise above the horizon to nourish the fields of wheat growing in the far distance and dispel the mist that hugged the steep hills, Hua was preparing for training. Hard-packed earth made up the largest of the training grounds. This was the one used for general practice and where most of her Clan spent their training time.
If they woke up as early as Hua did.
Training wasn’t a thing Hua merely did, it was something she loved. Start early and end late. Anything else was just laziness.
Besides, if Hua got in all her training early, she could visit the city. Visit Qing who was sleeping soundly right now and see her the moment she woke up. Have the whole day together. After being gone for so many weeks, Hua couldn’t wait to see her.
Today would be a good training day, she decided, her anticipation mounting as she thought of Qing. She chose to begin by bowing to the ten cardinal directions as defined by their Cultivation Scripture. The eight mortal directions and finally the journey between Earth and Heaven. Hua greeted the Four Kings of the main cardinals and offered her respect to the Thunder Agency that governed the Heaven above.
As she rose from her bow, a great lance of lightning cleaved the clear sky in half. She stared at it in awe, feeling such vast Qi that it could only surely mean the Heavens had seen her dedication and blessed her training. The roar of thunder that followed shook the trees and made the ground tremble.
One day, my lightning will make the world tremble, she promised.
Hua ran through the stances of the Liao Clan’s martial art with ease, paying special attention to her movements despite how engrained they were. Throwing a punch without knowing why wasn’t a good way to improve. If Hua needed to break someone’s face in the future, it might save a family member. If she kicked just right, she might blow out an enemy’s kneecap before they could turn on her Clan. If her blocks and parries were done correctly then she could be a wall against Zhao and Yu whenever they became enemies again.
For those simple reasons of loyalty and duty, she fully focused on the raw, full-contact method of combat that their Clan used. Closed fists, sharp elbows, and a few throws baked into it. Everything superfluous to the goal of inflicting maximum violence had been stripped away. Her only modification had been palm strikes to compliment her personal techniques.
Her limbs were warm and limber once she had worked through two full cycles. She moved onto a set of stretches as the first of the Clan entered the training field. A damp girl half Hua’s age who waved with the resignation of someone sent to fetch water early in the morning. Then a boy with too much exuberance followed behind her, taking the stairs down two at a time. Others slowly trickled in, though Hua was given a wide pocket of space. Some with the same silver hair she had, those who were part of the inner clan. Those with the more common black were from the branch families. She knew them all, though she couldn’t call many friends.
When she had given the late risers enough time to warm up, she rose and took up her sword. The familiar sound of steel singing sent shivers down the spines of her kin. You would think that after years of this ritual, they would be prepared for this.
“Cousin Weiang, would you spar with me?”
She had never seen a look of such complete despair as that moment.
“You just got back,” he muttered. “Not even one day of peace.”
He was older than her by a few years. His dark green eyes darted around, finding everyone near him suddenly giving him a wide berth. Liao Hua never understood why everyone in her clan was this dramatic. Especially the main clan.
Finally, realising he had no choice, and that Hua was already pointing her sword at him, he unsheathed his own. It had only been two years ago that people started carrying live steel on the training grounds once people realised Hua wasn’t going to be using a training sword.
“This humble Weiang thanks the Young Mistress for trading pointers with him,” he said without a shred of sincerity. “May she be quick with her teachings.”
“Block high,” she warned, and then charged forward, sword held in her off-hand.
Weiang was decent with a sword but so were most people of the Wei Generation. If only because Hua trained daily and she wouldn’t let her sparring partners get worse. He had the same solid stance the Patriarch favoured, one that employed raw strength and worked well for those as tall as those in the main clan. Strike once, strike fast, and never strike again, were his wise words. Hua liked to think of it as being like lightning. Bring forth the overwhelming power of the heavens and let nothing remain.
Hua’s footwork was just as firm, just as solid. Meeting him blow for blow, refusing to yield even an inch. He cursed her out as she pushed him back. She struck him in the diaphragm with a palm for making the mistake of thinking he could talk while they sparred. His hacking breaths followed his desperate retreat from her unrelenting blade. It took two, three, then four engagements for him to get back into his stance.
She nodded happily once he did. A year ago, he wouldn’t have managed that feat at all. She smiled when he didn’t lower his guard.
“That was good. You’ve gotten better. But the rest of you, I’ll be back in the evening to train with you. Understood.”
“Humour this old lady first.”
She did not love those five words. It seems I’m next. Hua slowly turned to see her grandmother watching from the stairs leading up to a tall woman with silver hair held by a kingfisher pin and lips painted red. She wore lotus shoes. Wrinkles lined the corner of her eyes. She was thin in the way of all old people who meant to outlive their descendants. She had a wooden practice sword in her hand. That was the only relieving thing about her presence.
Hua greeted her grandmother with a martial salute, right first meeting her left palm. It was awkward with a sword still in hand, but she managed it without pointing the blade at her greatest teacher.
Those who could made very hasty exits. She memorised which of her relatives she would be tormenting for the next few weeks. Weiang was going to suffer the most, she decided.
“Cowards,” she muttered. “You know, grandmother, I have places to be so maybe we can do this tomorrow.”
“If you want to visit your friend, you’ll have to impress me,” Grandmother said mercilessly. “Otherwise, you’ll stay on this mountain receiving a beating. Come, I do not have so many years remaining that I can wait on you.”
Hua smiled with false sincerity as her cowardly relatives made their way to the top of the stairs to watch from safety.
“Grandmother, don’t say that. I know you’re too spiteful to let anyone outlive you. I’m sure you’ll be punching my grandchildren into the ground a century from now, especially if you constantly eat pills.”
“Oh ho, the child has a mouth on her today. I suppose I can discipline you as well.”
Grandmother was kind enough to give her a moment to prepare. She placed her live steel sword—one of the better ones the clan purchased—in her left hand, her main hand, and settled into a ready stance.
Impress her grandmother. That was possible. For Qing, Hua would manage the impossible.
If it meant visiting Qing, Hua would kill a god. Grandmother wasn’t quite so far beyond her.
It was the inverse of her spar with Weiang. Like lightning, Grandmother attacked, and like lightning, one only saw the afterimage of the flash in their memory.
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Hua desperately turned to meet the blow, acting purely on instinct. The strength of it still left her arm numb. Her steel blade didn’t so much as dig into the wooden practice sword, the Qi infused along its edge too potent to pierce.
Hua managed to force the wooden sword up and away. Her blade descended in turn to cut Grandmother from shoulder to waist. Grandmother parried the swing with the back of her hand, pushing away Hua’s arm and turning her body to the side to neatly avoid even the sleeves of her robe being damaged. The next engagement led to Hua getting slapped across the face and the one after that sent her stumbling back.
There was a gulf between them and it showed. There had never been a chance of landing a blow. Still, Hua tried. Even if her sword missed, that was only one hand. With the other, she thrust it forward with no regard for subtlety, palm exposed.
Lightning crackled on the back of her hand, dancing between her fingers as she focused on splitting her Qi into yin and yang. She thrust her palm forward as her Qi rejoined. At the moment her palm struck her grandmother, a shockwave was formed.
Grandmother was faster. It could only be called a guiding hand, the way Grandmother raised Hua’s arm. A contemptuous guide that forced Hua’s hand to the sky just as the technique formed. It was the power of a thunderclap that filled the air around them, the rumble and force that followed lightning to announce the heavens had sent down their judgement.
Grandmother stepped forward, well into Hua’s guard. She felt a heel strike her own, destabilising her already weak stance. She was thrown and unable to do anything.
“Enjoy your rotation, fool.”
At the apex of the throw, Grandmother backhanded her chest with such force that Hua was spun halfway again, hands opening instinctively and dropping her sword. Instead of her back hitting the ground, it was her front.
She caught herself on her hands, bending her wrists and firming her core.
The moment she had any sort of control, she kicked as hard as she could. There was never a chance of hitting her grandmother, but it still forced her foe to jump over the blow. Gave Hua the space she needed to use the momentum to roll to the side, rising into a crouch as she reached for her discarded blade.
By then, Grandmother was firmly on the ground again as though she had never moved. At least her long hair was ruffled, the long braid still swaying. Proof that Hua had done something, even if that something was barely worth mentioning.
What was she to brag about? I made Grandmother dodge once? Her hair even moved. Anything short of drawing blood was worthless.
“An acceptable reason to drop your sword. At least you aren’t dropping it each time you got hit like you used to.”
“I’m not twelve anymore.”
“You babes all look the same to me. You’re failing to impress me, girl. Now get up and try again.”
With Qing in her mind, Hua rose and drew on her Qi to empower her. She dashed forward and matched her strength against her grandmother’s aged power. They met again, Hua’s sword shrieking at the abuse it was enduring. Grandmother’s wooden blade was absolutely silent, barely deforming.
She saw an opportunity. Hua thrust her blade forward. With a step, a flourish and a half-turn, Grandmother manoeuvred around Hua and slammed her wooden blade against Hua’s ankles. She yelped, skittering back.
“Your footwork is still sloppy. Don’t cross your feet like that unless you want swollen ankles.”
After the third blow to her ankles, Hua decided that maybe trying to match her grandmother’s strength was a mistake. There was no winning. Not in strength, reach, or speed.
“Slightly better but still unimpressive. Remember, you might have the height, but you don’t have the muscle mass to bully others as much.”
“We’re the tallest people in the province,” she grumbled.
That earned her a whack on the wrist. Her bones twanged painfully even through the numbness she was experiencing. Hua did not drop her sword.
“That might not always be the case. And even if it is, most male Cultivators will have far superior bodily Cultivation. Our techniques draw on more yin than yang to form them. It doesn’t help that you’re a Spiritual Cultivator.”
As if she wasn’t throwing around Weiang just minutes ago. He was just as tall and far broader.
“You’re at a higher Cultivation stage than him,” Grandmother said condescendingly, reading her perfectly. Gods above, she hated the woman. Sometimes. “If you were at equivalent stages, he’d throw you across the field like a training dummy.”
“I’m still better than him.”
“Doubtful.”
I’ll show you. In five years, I’ll surpass you completely. That’s my promise to the Heavens.
They resumed their training session. This time, Hua kept her footing lighter. Dust clouds kicked up as she went with the force of Grandmother’s blows instead of fighting them, pivoting to avoid contact, and ceding ground wherever possible. She struck in the spaces between, blade slashing out as she retreated. When their blades locked, she turned hers slightly so it slid down the length of Grandmother’s, questing for her fingers.
It never worked, of course. Grandmother was still more skilled, only allowing her to get that close for the sake of practice.
Grandmother disarmed her with their next engagement. Locked Hua’s sword arm with ease. Hua let it go and leapt away.
Grandmother had already closed half the distance between them before Hua landed, an explosion of dust framing her. Her fist was drawn back as obvious as the first overhead blow she sent at her cousin earlier. And just like that one, there was no way to avoid it. The difference in speed was just too great. By the time she landed, Grandmother would be on her.
The punch would break her in half. It had before. Left her with the healers for a month. Grandmother was a firm believer in the school of broken bones.
Hua braced herself with the split second she had, her five unlocked Meridians flaring bright as she forced Qi to reinforce her bones. It was hasty work, her Qi sluggish to do this. Grandmother was right, Hua was a spiritual Cultivator. Her Qi didn’t respond well in strengthening her body the same way it did in creating her Clan techniques.
Still, she endured. One hand over the other, she caught the punch in her palms. They were pushed back till her knuckles touched her chest, bones howling. She was pushed back, boots leaving furrows in the hard earth of the training field.
Just to be spiteful, she formed the Thunder Trigram again. Forcing Qi to become the force of a thunderclap.
Grandmother neutralised the attack with one of her own. Thunder Palm and Thunder Fist met with such force that the ground around them splintered. The stronger thunderclap sent Hua flying.
She landed on her back. Everything ached. Back bruised. Wrists felt like they might be broken. Maybe her ribs as well. Still, she rolled to the side and rose to a defensive crouch. To her relief, Grandmother hadn’t attacked her at all.
Which meant training was finally over.
Hua didn’t drop her guard for a moment.
“Decently done to attack even when you were being pushed back. And your sword skills have improved slightly. Maybe in ten years you might land a clean hit.”
“Thanks.”
“That was no compliment. When I was your age, I was far better. I was the best of the best. And I had no reason to talk back to my grandparents. Remember, child, the sword is a weapon I’m passable with at best. If you can’t defeat me, you’ll never so much as touch any of the Yu Clan’s Cultivators. Maybe not even their mortals. At this point, you might as well be trained as an assassin and save us all of trouble of wrapping up your body the moment you get into a duel. Not that you have a subtle bone in your body.”
Hua rose cautiously, never dropping her guard. Grandmother scoffed before lobbing Hua’s sword.
“Don’t let an opponent just take that without fighting back. Infuse it with lightning. Make it explode. Kick them the knee or crotch or whatever vital you can get to. There’s no such thing as an honourable fight, not even the training grounds.”
“Yes, Grandmother. I’ll remember that.”
“No, you won’t. You have always been too hardheaded to remember anything without a beating.”
“I think you mistake me for twins.”
“You babies are all the same stubborn person.”
“Well, maybe we inherited it from someone. I wonder who it could be.”
“Your father,” Grandmother said with a flicker of a smile. “And he inherited it from his father. Your entire generation thinks having principles and standards is stubbornness. You lot wouldn’t have survived a day in the Yellow Cap War.”
Grandmother ranted for a few minutes longer about the failings of Hua’s generation. Hua nodded where it was appropriate even if she wasn’t listening. One learnt to figure out when an elder was done dispensing advice and was now ranting for the sake of hearing their voice.
When her grandmother was done ranting and turned to leave, Hua infused the blade with a flicker of Qi to reinforce it. Then, she threw the sword at her grandmother’s exposed back. After all, there was no honour in a battle, not even on the training grounds.
It was so fast she almost missed it.
Grandmother turned on the spot as she brought her hand to her hair and plucked out the phoenix pin holding it in place. Qi flared, static on her skin, the smell just before the heavy storms brought with them lightning and thunder, and within that storm was the certainty of an exposed blade at Hua’s neck. For a moment, when Grandmother’s hand was at its highest point, there was a screech as though all the blades in the world clashed at once but at the height of that battle, they found a violent harmony. A union of shrill noises that became the sound of hummingbirds filled their air, almost as though the kingfisher hairpin would learn to fly.
That smooth movement continued as she brought her singing hairpin down before the blade could reach her. The moment the tip of the pin made contact, the blade shattered as surely as a dropped mirror would break. Shards of metal flying every which way.
Grandmother dodged most with ease. Most.
It was worth it because there was the tiniest line of red across the back of Grandmother’s hand.
“All that for a drop of blood. How Impressive,” Grandmother pronounced and Hua sagged in relief. Grandmother gave her a dragon’s smile. “Don’t miss an opportunity to harm an enemy. Never let them walk away from you without cost. Most certainly never miss a chance to stab them in the back. If you can’t win, then make them bleed. If you can avoid the fight and kill them before they have a chance to react, do so.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“Don’t sound so put out. It’s quite the feat to make me bleed. Don’t mistake me, your father managed it when he was a year younger than you are now. But it is an impressive enough feat that I’ll let you play in the city.”
“Grandmother, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“I don’t want you to get a big head,” her grandmother said, intentionally missing the point.
“One can’t develop arrogance if they don’t have anything to be proud about.”
“Exactly. You barely do anything worthy of my pride.”
“That wasn’t my point.”
“Wasn’t it? A grandchild worthy of my pride wouldn’t have had their sword destroyed during practice. No, a grandchild of mine would have managed to infuse enough Qi into that sword that I was cut in half. Anything less, well, that’s not worth having pride over.”
“You know what, this was my win and I’m done listening to you. I’m leaving for the city.”
“Don’t come back before sunset. Maybe by then, I’ll have forgotten my disappointment.”
By sunset, it would already be too late.