THE MOONLIGHT was like water; the wind rustled through the trees.
Xiahou Lian stood motionless, saber in hand, as swirling leaves danced before him. His robe flapped in the breeze amid the leaves' rustling.
In the next instant, his blade flashed.
Xiahou Lian drew his saber. Under the moonlight, its gleaming edge gave the impression of rippling waves emanating outward in rings. Xiahou Lian stepped lightly on the moonlit ground, his blade's tip tracing a graceful arc. As his gaze focused on the blade, it was as if the wind in the courtyard fell silent. Xiahou Lian's swordsmanship was clean and precise, with no unnecessary flourishes, reminiscent of the clear breeze and radiant moon in a pine forest. When he swung the saber, it caused a wind that swept through the courtyard like a roaring tide.
After a few moves, Xiahou Lian sheathed his saber and smirked at Shen Jue, who stood nearby. "Did you get all that?"
Shen Jue thought over the moves Xiahou Lian had just demonstrated. Weighing the wooden saber in his hand, he frowned, not responding.
"Qiye Garden's saber techniques differ from styles that emphasize physical strength and friendly sparring. Our methods are designed to kill. Every attack must draw blood. There's no room for showy, ineffective maneuvers. It's about being ruthless, cunning, and efficient—fast, accurate, and deadly," Xiahou Lian explained. He gripped his saber. "You needn't master it all, just enough to deal with those who dare cross the line."
Shen Jue thought for a moment. "The moves you just demonstrated differ from what you described."
"How so?"
Shen Jue glanced at Xiahou Lian, then stepped into the center of the courtyard, holding the wooden saber. He bent his knees slightly, assuming a starting stance. Xiahou Lian was leaning against the wall, watching with interest, when suddenly a piece of osmanthus cake appeared in front of him. Xiahou Lian took it absentmindedly, only to turn in shock and see Consort Gao seated on a nearby rock, happily munching her own piece of cake.
"Hey, you—"
"Shh!" Consort Gao put a finger to her lips. "Watch the saber."
Shen Jue moved.
The crude wooden saber in his hand seemed as sharp as a real blade. Shen Jue's strikes were fierce and unrelenting, piercing and cold; frost seemed to bloom everywhere his blade passed. The wind picked up, scattering leaves in every direction. Just as Shen Jue was about to deliver a final downward slash, Consort Gao suddenly pushed Xiahou Lian into the blade's path.
Xiahou Lian jolted in shock. The draft produced by the blow quickly engulfed his entire body; he could almost smell blood on Shen Jue's "blade."
Shen Jue hesitated for a moment, and Xiahou Lian seized the opportunity to sidestep so that the blade only grazed the edge of his robe. Shen Jue shot Consort Gao a cold glance.
She clapped her hands gleefully. "How fun! Come on, you two. Fight!"
Before Xiahou Lian could scold the consort, Shen Jue's saber turned and came straight for his face.
Shen Jue had only learned five of the moves comprising Qiye Garden's saber arts. Now he used the third move—Swallow's Swoop.
This kid just started learning and already wants to spar? Xiahou Lian leaned back to evade the Swallow's Swoop, then did a backflip, avoiding a second strike. He didn't counterattack, simply dodged left and right. Shen Jue was still a novice, and the disparity in the boys' skills was vast. Yet somehow, in just five moves, Shen Jue had woven together a sequence of full-fledged attacks. Within a few minutes, his saber strikes had already proved relentless, never letting up nor flagging. Although Xiahou Lian dodged them effortlessly, he was still astonished.
This, after learning just five moves!
Both boys soon found themselves exhausted. They leaned against the wall, panting. Xiahou Lian patted Shen Jue's shoulder. "Shaoye, you're a damn martial arts prodigy!" he sighed.
"You're just too slow."
"Earlier, you said that my moves differed from what I'd described. What'd you mean?"
Shen Jue looked at him with a complex expression. "Well, your saber lacks killing intent."
Xiahou Lian, stunned, recalled what the old spy in the Xie household had once said to him: "You may have the bodhi saber, but you lack the heart for murder." At the time, Xiahou Lian had been indignant, but now he had to admit that it was true.
He hated killing, and not due to fear or incompetence—he simply despised it. Since taking up the assassin's mantle, he'd completed only two missions. As the Garuda's son, he was treated differently from other novice assassins: A senior oversaw each of his missions to ensure that he didn't get himself killed. Yet on each mission, Xiahou Lian messed up—either by missing the crucial strike or by giving himself away, forcing his senior to finish the job.
The rumor that the Garuda's son was a hopeless failure had spread through Qiye Garden. To the other assassins, his eventual death on the battlefield seemed inevitable. A tombstone would soon stand in the valley behind the Garden temple, and it would bear Xiahou Lian's name.
But he couldn't let Shen Jue know that he was a failure. Even if his pride was baseless, it was still pride. He feigned nonchalance and replied, "That's because I'm not killing anyone right now, just demonstrating the moves for you. Of course there's no killing intent." Then he boasted shamelessly, "You have no idea how skilled I am. The saber Jingtie is already causing a stir in the jianghu. In a few years, my blade will surpass even my mother's Hengbo."
Shen Jue, of course, didn't buy it. Xiahou Lian had a habit of stretching the truth. Back in the Xie household, he'd boasted about his high status, insisting that all the assassins were at his beck and call, only to end up getting whipped.
Yet Shen Jue didn't have the heart to call him out. "Enough boasting," he said simply. "Keep teaching."
"Qiye Garden's saber arts encompass many styles," Xiahou Lian said with a flourish. "Single-handed and double-handed, using long, short, or curved sabers. They also include assassination techniques and slashing techniques. Assassination techniques are ruthless and cunning—perfect for one-on-one combat but useless against a group. I heard that the Garden's former abbot was a master of assassination. No one could protect the targets he pursued. In the end, though, he was ambushed by ten men and died. He killed their leader, but the remaining nine hacked him to pieces."
"So slashing techniques can handle multiple opponents?"
"Mm-hmm." Xiahou Lian nodded. "They incorporate a number of border-army styles. They're perfect for the battlefield. But assassins don't fight on battlefields, so many don't bother learning those."
"Which do you know?"
Xiahou Lian's face colored with embarrassment—a rare sight. "Well, I wanted to follow in my mother's footsteps. She mastered both single- and double-handed blades, and both assassination and slashing techniques too. But this stuff really requires talent. I'm not quite at her level yet. I've almost mastered single-handed straight blades, and I'm halfway through the double-handed ones. My instructor only knows assassination techniques, though, so that's all I know too..."
As a teacher, Xiahou Lian was evidently a bit lacking, but he was Shen Jue's only option. "Teach me what you're best at," Shen Jue said.
***
THE CLOUDS DRIFTED lazily as rain came and went. The leaves grew lush and thick, and the hum of cicadas filled the courtyard. Every night beneath the moonlit sky, Shen Jue practiced with his saber, accompanied by the cicadas' song. His eyes were eerily calm, and though the wind whipped his robes, his gaze remained level, the wooden saber in his hand steady as a mountain. The wind gradually seemed to fade, the cicadas to grow quiet, and even the moonlight dimmed. In the silent darkness, only the crude wooden saber remained.
Shen Jue drew the saber from beneath his arm, then brandished it upward in a slanting arc.
This was the Swallow's Swoop saber art of Qiye Garden.
Shen Jue had practiced this move over a thousand times. The cunning, ruthless Swallow's Swoop could slit a throat or gut an opponent. With enough speed, it would cause blood to spray instantly.
The wooden blade struck Xiahou Lian. Thwack.
Xiahou Lian yelped and rolled on the ground. That was the seventh hit he'd taken that night.
He thought Shen Jue was a madman. Since beginning his lessons, the boy had practiced four hours each night without fail, rain or shine. He didn't stop at practicing alone—he insisted on dragging Xiahou Lian into it, demanding that they spar. Xiahou Lian almost felt as if he'd been transported back to the Xie household, where he'd had to sit with Xie Jinglan while the boy studied. In the library, Xiahou Lian had dozed while Xie Jinglan sat engrossed in his books, their only company a dim lamp and the howling wind outside. At least back then, Xiahou Lian could entertain himself by catching moths and centipedes or idly plucking flowers and grass. Now he had to leap and dodge endlessly to avoid Shen Jue's relentless attacks.
Drenched in sweat, Xiahou Lian lay on the ground, exhausted and unwilling to get up.
Shen Jue kicked him gently a few times, his face expressionless. "If you don't get up, I'll hit you again."
Xiahou Lian was exasperated. "Man, aren't you tired?!"
"I am," Shen Jue said, poking Xiahou Lian's stomach with the wooden saber. "But I have to keep practicing. I'm not like you. You started training in childhood; your body was flexible, and you progressed quickly. My body is stiff now, so I have to work twice as hard."
But Xiahou Lian stayed put, lying on the ground like a dead fish.
Shen Jue sighed. As he tried to think of a way to get his useless sparring partner back on his feet, someone suddenly struck him on the head.
Consort Gao had appeared from out of nowhere, clapping her hands. "I want to play too! I want to play too!"
"Yes, yes. Go spar with her. Lunatics have energy to burn!" With that, Xiahou Lian scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the house, terrified that Shen Jue would chase him.
Shen Jue had the distinct feeling that Xiahou Lian's comment wasn't aimed exclusively at Consort Gao.
He turned to look at the consort. Her hair was the usual nest tangled with chicken feathers, her dress stained and dirty. She looked like a walking feather duster. Sighing, Shen Jue shifted into his starting stance and swung his wooden saber. Consort Gao didn't react in time, and half the feathers in her hair went flying, scattering across the ground in a flurry.
Looking at the feathers on the ground, Shen Jue suddenly lost interest. "Forget it… I'm done."
"You brat! How dare you knock off my general's plume?! Watch how this mighty general will teach you a lesson!" Furious, Consort Gao broke off a branch and struck Shen Jue on the head.
While he was still dazed from her first strike, Consort Gao's branch descended like a storm, the blows landing as densely as summer rain on water. He raised his wooden saber to block her, but in his panic, he could only deflect a few strikes. The rest landed on his body, every blow burning.
How is this madwoman so fast?! If Xiahou Lian embodied the springtime's gentle breeze and drizzle, Consort Gao was like a bucket of dirty water dumped over Shen Jue's head by a furious god!
Finally abandoning his pride, Shen Jue fled.
The next morning, Xiahou Lian woke to find a jar of wound ointment left open on the table. Shen Jue was still asleep on the heated bed, his pale face unusually peaceful.
He must've been truly exhausted if he'd neglected to put away the ointment. After all, Shen Jue was notoriously meticulous—failing to do something as small as hanging garments on the rack would earn Xiahou Lian a stern lecture. "Shen-da-xiaojie," Xiahou Lian had grumbled to himself, more times than he could count.
Shen Jue was strict with others and even stricter with himself. When he set his mind to something, he pushed himself to the brink, refusing to stop until he was utterly drained. Xiahou Lian, meanwhile, had always been carefree. He had no idea how he got along with Shen Jue; that was a mystery even to him.
After getting ready, Xiahou Lian went to the kitchen to fetch everyone's breakfast. As he went through the Shunzhen Gate, he saw an old, wrinkled eunuch standing by the gatepost and smiling at him.
"Sixi, are you better now? You look much stronger. I've been run off my feet these past few days, but I finally found time to come see you, so don't blame me for not having visited!" The old eunuch walked over, carrying a box of food. "This is from your uncle in the south: osmanthus cakes, sesame candies, and square pastries. I don't like sweets, but you're still a child, so I thought I'd bring them to you to enjoy."
So this was Sixi's godfather. Xiahou Lian's heart raced. He wondered how to address the man; luckily, the eunuch had introduced himself, saving Xiahou Lian from a potential slip. With a quick bow, he said smoothly, "Thank you for remembering me, Godfather. Your godson has been to the underworld and back. The King of Hell said that I still needed to live in order to serve you, so he returned me here. Please, come inside. You'll catch cold standing in the wind."
"No, no." The old eunuch chuckled and waved his hand. "This morning, foreigners gave His Majesty a Ferghana horse. I have to go back and ensure the little ones groom the beast properly." He paused meaningfully, his droopy eyes regarding Xiahou Lian. "His Majesty is in high spirits after receiving the horse and plans to go hunting on the fifteenth. Coincidentally, Cao Ling—who oversees the imperial stables—is sick, and it doesn't look as though he'll recover soon. Would you like to take his place at the hunt?" Smiling slyly, he added, "You've always wanted to leave the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard, haven't you? Plenty of important figures will join that hunt. If you make a good impression, you might secure a better future."
Xiahou Lian—a fake eunuch—had no business getting involved in this. He was about to decline when Shen Jue's voice rang out from behind: "Yan-gonggong, Sixi just recovered from a serious illness. He isn't at his best. If he went to serve at the hunt and upset a noble somehow, it would be a disaster. Why not let me take his place? What do you think?"
Yan-gonggong looked Xiahou Lian up and down. "Sixi looks quite well to me. Even stronger than before."
Shen Jue shot Xiahou Lian a glance, and Xiahou Lian immediately clutched his chest, letting out a groan. "You don't understand, Godfather. This is what they call 'false strength.' I don't have any serious symptoms, but I'm constantly bothered by minor ones. Now my chest hurts too. I'm afraid I'm not yet fit to serve. Why not let Shen-gonggong go instead? He's a good friend of mine—it's all the same."
Yan-gonggong sighed. "Fine. If you lack the ambition, so be it. Shen Jue, come tomorrow, and I'll show you around the imperial stables."
Shen Jue bowed his head obediently. "Yes, Yan-gonggong."
With a displeased flick of his sleeves, Sixi's godfather left. With his eyes on Yan-gonggong's hunched back, Xiahou Lian muttered suspiciously, "As they say, 'Beware of those who visit for no reason.' He didn't come when 'Sixi' was sick, but he shows up now that he's better? Bastard must be up to no good."
"It's fine. As long as I see Wei De at the hunt, this'll be worthwhile." Shen Jue brushed nonexistent dust off his sleeves and walked inside.
Xiahou Lian was horrified. Did this madman plan to assassinate Wei De during the hunt?!