Lili had climbed the steps of Moonwatch Hill once before, at a time when her eyes could still shine unclouded. Back then, she held her father’s sturdy callused hand on one side and Dawei’s soft pudgy one on the other. Back then, the priests from the temple worked diligently to keep the stone steps polished and free of moss.

Tonight, she was alone. Tonight, corpses and dismembered limbs littered the moss-laden steps of Moonwatch Hill.

Lili was no stranger to death and violence, far from it. One didn’t survive on the streets of Temasek for thirteen years without becoming intimately familiar with the myriad ways men could think of to mutilate each other. Even so, she’d never seen, smelt, nor felt death and violence of this scale and totality.

No wonder that Jun Ze was called the ‘Fearless Bladesman’. Why would anyone need to fear anything if they were capable of a feat such as this: single-bladedly and in one afternoon turning the Crimson Tigers’ stronghold into a mass grave?

The man was a hero, no doubt. A counterweight against the villainy that threatened to sink Temasek and the larger world beyond her ports. But he was also a monster.

A monster that had promised to save Lili’s brother. A monster that could kill 295 men in one afternoon but couldn’t save one orphan child.

Rage and sorrow fuelled Lili’s ascent up Moonwatch Hill. Rage against the callous heroes of the world that chased one glory at the expense of another kindness. Sorrow for the monsters that roiled within the hearts of all men, some more overtly than others.

Yet, despite her expansive rage and deepening sorrow, Lili’s legs ached with the effort of climbing moss-laden stone, of side-stepping corpses and dismembered limbs. By the time she passed through the final gate and onto the silvergrass field outside the temple, she was winded, exhausted, and more terrified than she’d ever been.

Shadu Meng and his four generals lay about in a haphazard formation across the front of the temple, postures relaxed and eyes closed. Lili saw this, and her first impression was that they’d been waiting. Waiting for so long that they’d fallen asleep. It seemed that Lili hadn’t been the only person Jun Ze had disappointed.

She saw the sleeping figures of Shadu Meng and his men. She hesitated. Her hand tensed and crept toward her waist, where she’d hidden a small carving knife.

After a heart-pounding moment, however, she relaxed her hand and resumed her walk toward the temple. As addled by rage and full of sorrow as she was, she nevertheless retained enough of herself to know her own limitations. And this wasn’t the time to test them, not with Dawei’s life at stake.

Shadu, seated upon the steps that led into the temple proper, was the first to wake. He too momentarily tensed, with one hand gripping the hilt of his jian. But only for a moment, then he turned a sneer upon the approaching figure.

“Are we lost, little lamb?” he crooned. “If so, we’ve plenty of room for you to stay the night. Don’t be shy. Come closer.”

By then the generals too had stirred, rearranging themselves into a pentagon around the orphan girl. A Monk, a Dancer, a Giant, and a Hunchback, and the phantom that bound them all. A formation of malice and domination.

Lili squeezed her fists to stop their shaking, then spoke, “I’m here for my brother. Dawei. He’s inside with the others, isn’t he?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. We’re all brothers and sisters under the banner of the Crimson Tiger.” Shadu’s sneer curdled into a sardonic glare. “At least until the ships arrive on the morrow to part us, as they always must.”

Lili fought to quell her beating heart. “He’s a boy of eight. Wears a red bracelet on his left wrist, a keepsake of our mother’s.”

“Ah, yes. A pretty little thing, is he not? He’s certainly brought plenty of cheer to our happy little family, and I’m sure he’ll do the same for the families he’s yet to meet on new shores.”

Lili swallowed to keep down the contents of her empty stomach. Her next words came out in a choked whisper, “I’m prettier than him. Smarter. Handier. I can bring happiness to more families, and far better than he could.”

“What are you saying, child?”

“Take me instead. And let my brother go.”

“A generous offer, and brave. But look around, child. What’s to stop me from taking you in, then keeping both of you siblings?”

“Your kindness.” Lili got on her knees and lowered her eyes. The feathers on the silvergrass brushed against her trembling chin. “Your honour. You’re the great Shadu Meng. The war hero that led the Tidesong Rebellion. The people sang of your noble cause, of you rallying the common folk to fight for what’s theirs. I know there’s still that hero in you somewhere. I beg of you. Just this once. Let my brother go, and I swear to serve the Crimson Tigers to the end of my days, no matter what you ask of me.”

Silence stretched between the disgraced war hero and the kneeling orphan girl. Lili, even with gaze cast toward the silvergrass that rippled against her chest, felt rather than saw the memories that chased each other across Shadu’s sneer.

“You’ve put me in a rather nostalgic mood, girl,” the man finally spoke, “and in return, I shall do you this one kindness. When the ships arrive on the morrow, I’ll be sure to impress upon my business associates the love you hold for your brother. You and he shall leave on one ship, make for the same shore. As for what happens after that, that’s of neither concern nor authority of mine.”

“Wait!” Lili looked up in alarm. “That’s not—”

But one of the generals—the Dancer—had already moved in then, dragging Lili to her feet and roping her wrists in one deft movement. Lili felt herself being pulled toward the temple entrance, toward Shadu Meng and his unrepentant sneer.

Even in the panic that gripped her soul, Lili retained enough of herself to realize that this was the best outcome she could’ve hoped for. What had she expected when she set off toward Moonwatch Hill? When she entrusted a stranger to save her brother? At least now, she and Dawei could stay together. Whatever fate awaited them, they’d face it together. Alive. What more could she have asked for?

And yet, before she knew it herself, her bound wrists yanked free of the Dancer’s grip and reached for the sash around her waist. She pulled out the carving knife, aimed its point straight onto Shadu Meng’s sneer, and drove herself forward with all the rage and sorrow her skinny frame could muster.

Pain. Defeat. Blackness. The next thing she knew, Lili lay flat on her back, staring up at the crescent moon with eyes that burned with tears. At the edges of her vision, Shadu sneered, with one powerful hand wrapped around Lili’s neck, the other squeezing her bound wrists until she let go of the carving knife out of sheer pain.

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“I tried to be kind, girl, like you asked,” Shadu snarled. “But it appears you need an education in manners before any family would have you. In which case—”

She never found out what the man had intended for her. Shadu’s words cut out at the same time as Lili’s vision filled with a lurid red veil, and as something warm and viscous dribbled onto her face.

Shadu’s stricken eyes turned upward, and Lili followed his gaze, as best she could. There the Dancer stood—or rather, staggered—both hands having dropped his shuangdaos to instead catch the intestines that spilled out from the gash across his abdomen. As both Shadu and Lili watched, the Dancer fell onto his knees, then onto his face, and stopped moving completely.

The Tiger chief let out a roar and sprang up, the orphan girl forgotten at his feet. Then he unsheathed his jian and disappeared out of her view.

Lili gritted her teeth and rolled herself onto her stomach. From her new vantage point, she finally saw the full extent of the madness that unfolded before her.

Upon a hill swept by plum blossoms, under the blade of a crescent moon, and amidst a sea of rippling silvergrass, steel sang against steel. Monsters tore at each other’s throats. And in Lili’s disbelieving eyes, one monster among them loomed largest.

A lone bladesman against four bloodthirsty warriors. A viper’s fang amidst a formation of death. Jun Ze among them loomed largest, his eyes shining with the certitude of a man who had nothing to lose—and everything to give.

***

The Giant lunged at him first, axe-blade displacing a column of air and plum petals in its downward swing. Jun spun, skirting the axe’s impact radius as he shifted smoothly into Sunward Strike. The momentum of the Giant’s attack pushed him straight into Jun’s counter, and the brute went limp as the base of his neck geysered with fresh blood.

The Monk was next, matching the Bladesman in agility and limberness. He unleashed a flurry of techniques meant to bewilder as much as injure. Jun parried every blow, his senses attuned all the while to the inevitable opening. As soon as he found it, he proved that agility was no match for his sheer strength, as a well-placed Sidewinder ripped through both the quarterstaff and the chest of the man who held it.

Then the Hunchback, with his meteor that flew through the air at range. The hammerhead whizzed and zoomed with speed, whipping up its own vortex of wind and menace. But one thing Jun had learned on his travels was that ranged weaponmasters often fell too deeply in love with distance. Distance—and the safety it offered—was merely an illusion. Especially in the face of Jun Ze and his Viper’s Roar. With a powerful swing of his dao, a wave of steel and destruction issued forth, transmitting his killing intent across distorted space. The meteor’s vortex waned into the night, and its wielder slumped onto bloodied grass.

Through it all, Shadu Meng and his jian Harvest had danced in and out of the fray, landing hits before retreating to a ‘safe’ distance. Despite his accumulating wounds, Jun had ignored the Tiger chief, opting instead to eliminate his generals one by one, thereby morphing the formation of death into single combat.

Now the two of them squared off across flying petals and swaying grass. Shadu stared with incredulous eyes, chest and shoulders heaving with the effort of Harvesting his opponent’s lifeblood. His disbelief had surely been inspired by the state of said opponent. For Jun Ze—missing a ear, carved and bleeding freely from shoulder to waist, and one whole thigh hacked to pieces—stood and held his dao with posture steady and calm, with the certitude of a man who knew that victory was at hand.

“Is it true what they say?” Shadu screamed, face twisted in fury and fear. “Are you truly immortal? Is that why you still stand, when by rights you should’ve long fallen at my blade?”

“No,” Jun replied, voice steady and calm. “At least, I don’t think so. Not anymore. I stand because I refuse to fall. I won’t let myself. Not while you still draw breath.”

At this non-answer, Shadu’s eyes only widened some more. Then he let out the bloodcurdling yowl of a cornered animal before pivoting away from the battle and toward the temple.

Jun gave chase, crumbling body and all. He moved with the swiftness of a viper angling for its kill, and in his singular focus, he failed to see the third figure that still lurked upon the battlefield.

Jun made his move, then checked his swing. Just in time to stop Viperfang from tearing the flesh of an innocent. For Shadu had spun back toward his opponent, having dragged Lili onto her feet and now holding her skinny frame against his person. The point of Harvest dug into Lili’s neck, drawing a trickle of blood.

“I don’t know if you’re immortal,” he hissed, “but I know she’s not.”

Jun hesitated, Viperfang held aloft mid-swing. And this moment of hesitation gave his cornered enemy the chance he needed to conceive and enact his final gambit.

Shadu let go of Lili and shoved her bodily in the back, sending her flying into Jun. At the same time, the Tiger chief leaned in and thrust with Harvest, his jian’s killing edge poised to tear through his human shield and opponent both.

Jun’s vision filled with the orphan girl’s frightened face. Behind her skinny frame was the enemy—the villain that needed eliminating. Viperfang still hung in the air, poised to cut down the girl and the villain in one fell swoop, should its wielder choose it.

But Jun chose differently. He acted with the certitude of a man who had nothing to lose and everything to give. In one swift motion, he caught Lili in his free arm and spun to shield her from Shadu’s attack.

Harvest penetrated Jun’s back and exited from his chest, missing Lili by mere inches. And before Shadu could transition into a follow-up, Jun reached across and grabbed hold of the part of Harvest that protruded from between his ribs. Muscles and bones splintered against the jian’s keenness, but Jun held firm and pulled, driving Harvest deeper into himself while sucking in his reluctant enemy.

A savage elbow connected with Shadu’s head, and Jun felt the tension on Harvest loosen, its wielder having lost his grip. With Lili still held securely in his off-arm, Jun nevertheless finished his turn with a casual flick of Viperfang: Asp Coil Counter. Shadu, already reeling from the preceding impact, received the full force of the technique before tumbling onto his back beneath a cascade of his own blood.

Jun stepped toward his fallen enemy with dao raised, ready to finish the job. Then he saw that there was no need. Shadu Meng’s eyes stared unseeingly into the night sky, toward the crescent moon that bore witness to his final moments—a defeat manifested in the space of a dying breath.

At last, Jun allowed himself to relax. His trembling lips curled into a smirk nearly as sardonic as his enemy’s. For all Shadu’s theatrics and grandstanding, the end had come for him abruptly and without ceremony. Such was reality for the heroes and villains of the world. Death was always a blade’s edge away. Death cared naught for the measure of men nor the weight of their ambitions.

That had always been the reality. His reality. Deep down, Jun had always known. He’d simply pushed the knowledge away. Convinced himself instead of the truth of his own mythology.

At some point, he became aware of the immense fatigue in his arms, of the dainty figure that weighed them down. He became aware of Lili, who flopped against his blood-soaked arms with eyes closed, chest rising and falling with peaceful breaths. She’d lost consciousness, and who could blame her?

Jun knelt onto the ground and gently laid Lili upon a bed of silvergrass. His smirk widened then, in candid appreciation of the Snake Goddess’s twisted sense of humour: her final joke at his expense.

Next, he looked to Viperfang, turned it over in his hand to inspect the myriad imperfections upon its steel. The dao had served him well: the one constant through every step of his journey. From his early days as a bumbling Valley boy to his last as a master bladesman, Viperfang had nurtured him, had evolved with him, had imparted and in turn received the shared magic of their evergrowing prowess. Now their journey together was at an end, but that didn’t mean that Viperfang couldn’t find a new master to serve, another bumbling youth to foster. And Jun thought he knew just the perfect candidate.

Plum petals flew to the caprice of spring breezes. Silvergrass swayed to the constance of shifting air. A maiden slept, relishing the hope that bloomed within fragile dreams. And above them all, the crescent moon shone with unclouded radiance, bearing witness to the virtues and foibles of mortals everywhere.

Amidst it all, Jun Ze waited. He waited with the fearlessness of a man who knew the measure of a life truly lived. He waited with the restlessness of a soul agitating for its next grand adventure.