Smack! Smack!

Sounds of panting accompanied by grunts and heaves were heard as wooden blade clashed against wooden blade. On one side was a tall man with a well-built frame. He was muscular without being burly. Every raise of his arm was accompanied with muscle contractions that were so minute yet so clear - an ode to his perfect physique.

The man’s arm came slicing down splitting the air with a whoosh!

Smack!

The wooden sword met another wooden sword followed by a low grunt and two heavy footsteps backwards. The recipient of the overhead slash was a surprisingly short man – no, boy – about a hundred thirty centimetres tall.

The boy looked to be around six to seven years old. With black hair and fair features, the boy radiated a princely aura of nobility. His shirt clung to his body as sweat covered his face.

Panting heavily, the boy never had any time to catch his breath when a shadow loomed over him followed by a boot almost the size of his head closing in on his chest. Sucking in as much air as he could into his under developed lungs, the boy only had a split second to cross his wooden sword in front of his chest in a flimsy defence.

Gah! The boy felt all the air he’d just taken in flee from his lungs the next moment as he was sent tumbling over the green grass field.

“What I tell you, Sam?” The muscular man asked in a somewhat exasperated tone as he helped the boy to his feet.

Dusting his trousers before collapsing to the ground on his behind, the boy replied in a pained tone, “When there is a significant gap in strength, don’t clash head on.”

The boy winced in pain as he rubbed his wrist. Clearly, the punt to the chest had nearly snapped it.

“You’d do well to remember that,” the man replied.

“How many meridians have you opened?” The man asked noticing that Sam was waddling back towards the house behind him. It was a Victorian style cottage and the pair was currently training in the backyard.

“About five,”

“Mhm, go see your mother after you clean up.”

Sam grunted but continued towards the house.

Inside the house, Sam was greeted by the fragrance of meat grilling coming from the kitchen. Trying his best to stop himself from drooling, he waddled towards the bathroom to clean up.

He took off his sweaty clothes before sitting in the tub. As he was still scrubbing himself over, he heard the door creak open and a woman of fair complexion walked in.

“Mama!” Sam bellowed. His face was scrunched up in anger and a tinge of embarrassment at the sudden invasion of privacy.

Rolling her eyes, the woman didn’t even entertain a response to the outburst. She merely snorted. In the next instant, an overpowering aura swept over Sam’s naked body locking him in place. The woman then rolled up her sleeves and approached him.

Standing in the tub, Sam’s mother inspected his body before meticulously massaging his muscles. She carefully felt out his acupoints making sure no knots and latent injuries remained. After the physical therapy, a cool sensation spread over his body – or more accurately, inside his body. He felt his blood flow smoother and his strength and dexterity increase. Even his mind felt exceptionally clearer and he instinctively knew that blocking or evading the punt from earlier would no longer pose a challenge for him.

Well, not that that meant anything. Every day for the past few months he had been practising swordsmanship with his father and everyday he would get beaten. Every day after training his mother would massage him, and every day he would feel stronger. Only to be beaten even worse the next day.

His father had told him that he was supposed to open something called meridians. That they would enhance his blood flow and respiration making him stronger. He didn’t understand any of it nor did he care. All he knew was that one day, he would smack his dad on that big forehead of his with his sword and show him who’s boss. If opening these… meridians, helped do that, then he didn’t mind opening a few. The only problem was that he didn’t know how many to open so he had no idea if he was getting close to the limit or not.

“Phew!” Sam’s mother’s exhale pulled him out of his day dream. She gave him a onceover with warmth in her eyes. Kissing him on the forehead, she dried the boy and dressed him up. She made a few hand gestures to which the boy nodded. With that, she exited the bathroom.

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At the dinner table, Sam sat with his parents enjoying the meat stew that his mother had been preparing before his bath. He wolfed down piece after piece while his mother just watched him with a content smile on her face.

Sam’s father similarly eagerly ate his food albeit in a more mature and controlled manner. He looked at the woman seated across him with a conflicted expression that swiftly disappeared. His stern face relaxed, and a touch of warmth could be seen in his eyes. He knew his wife enjoyed meal times. It was at these times that she was truly at peace.

Occasionally, he would see her gazing at the sky. He knew the turmoil that gnawed at her heart but there was nothing he could do. This was the path they had chosen. They could not hide from their past, but at the very least they could savour the present.

Turning his gaze to the boy to his left that had oil and grease all over his mouth, he said, “Tomorrow I will take you to hunt.”

Sam did not react. He simply continued to dip bread in his stew before taking a huge bite out of the loaf. Whether he heard or simply ignored him was unknown.

Finally, after a few minutes, the young Sam released a loud belch while rubbing his belly. With an expression of pure bliss, he slumped into his chair after a job well done.

“Papa,” Sam said after a while. “How many meridians do I have to open before I can defeat you?”

With a light smile, the man put down his cup after a sip. “You could open meridians all your life and never defeat me, pup.”

Sam was not having any of that. He pouted and looked at his mother for help.

Like a lioness whose cub had been wounded, Sam’s mother shot the man seated across her a death glare that made him shrink his neck back into his shoulders.

With an awkward cough, the man readjusted himself, his stern visage resurfacing. “Currently, you are in… let’s call it… the innate body stage.” The man paused to find the right words that the child would understand. “Think of it as a kind of maturation stage. Like your body is still growing.”

“So, I have to grow bigger to beat you?”

The man’s smile now bore a hint of amusement. “Something like that. You have to open twenty meridians then temper your 361 acupoints-“

Cough! Cough! Cough!

Sam’s father was interrupted by a fit of coughing. Sam nearly threw up his dinner when he heard the crazy man say crazy things.

How many Acupoints!? Is that even a number?

After Sam calmed himself down, he looked at his father in horror only to be met with the usual deadpan expression he saw every day at practise. It wasn’t until he saw his mother’s teasing smile that he settled himself.

“As I was saying,” his father resumed, his tone now flat and emotionless. Clearly, he wasn’t amused with the boy’s antics. “After you open 361 acupoints, you can start condensing your qi. Gathering your mana. Whatever! In short, you’re just absorbing the energy from the world.”

With that, his mother waved her hand and the dirty dishes started levitating off the table before piling themselves neatly in the kitchen sink.

This wasn’t the first time Sam had seen his mother do something like this. He often saw her levitate books to and from the shelves whenever she was reading. He had always been fascinated by this but whenever he asked his mother, she would tell him that he would naturally learn when he grew up. To this he could only puff his cheeks and harrumph.

But today it felt different. Today it felt stronger. Sam felt a slight pressure that caused a prickly feeling all over his body. He felt like if his mother wished, she could whisk him out of his seat and toss him into infinity without so much as lifting a finger. As if to confirm his thoughts, the chair he was sitting on started to levitate with him still seated on it.

“Whoa!” Eyes glittering, Sam seemed to see his future self smiting his father with his wooden sword as he himself stood not far away with arms clasped behind his back. Like a celestial emperor descended to pass on righteous judgement on the heathen for all his suffering.

Alas, the fantasy did not last long. With a thud, the chair came crashing back to earth snapping him out of his reverie.

Sam shifted awkwardly while shooting his father surreptitious glances.

“Anyway,” the man continued in his usual deadpan tone, “when gathering your energy, you want to store it in your opened acupoints so that it flows quicker and smoother in your meridians. Your meridians have to be sturdy enough to contain that energy flow.”

“After that you have the blood transformation stage.” It was this point that Sam’s father did something unbelievable. A knife floated over from the kitchen sink and tore open his forearm.

The sight was ghastly. but the strange thing was... the man did not bleed!

From first widening his eyes to furrowing his brow, Sam’s emotions whirled. His poor six-year-old brains simply did not understand what he was looking at.

The wound was terrible, yes. The blood was red, yes. But… the blood was bubbling.

Yes, bubbling!

The most shocking revelation however, was that the muscle fibres stitched themselves before the wound promptly closed. It all happened in the span of a few breaths.

“In the blood transformation stage, the energy from your acupoints is slowly released into your blood stream. This will steadily strengthen your blood’s healing capabilities over time. Your muscles are also slowly tempered and become stronger over time.”

At this point Sam’s father stopped talking to look at his son. The boy was still looking at his father’s outstretched hand, occasionally he would try to cut his own arm only to be smacked by his mother.

Shaking his head ruefully, he stopped speaking as he knew he had exceeded his child’s processing capacity. In any case, the boy would get there eventually.

For now, he should make the most of his childhood.