Bird calls heralded the sound of morning as Fan Zhong blearly rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Around him lay Fan Yong and others who had spent the night drinking and catching up on past times, the sight brought a smile to his face. Truly such a night had been necessary to replenish his soul, he felt as if everything that had drained out of him during the week of training was now restored with boundless vigor!

Picking his way carefully across the vip room they had taken in the Soft Moonlight Hall he slipped out the door taking in the fresh morning air and sounds of life awakening from slumber. Perhaps his family's training crazed mentality had rubbed off on him or perhaps it was simply a habit that had begun to form from the last week, in any case Fan Zhong felt restless with an energy that needed to be expended.

Thus he began running down the cliff trails that led deep into the forest surrounding the village taking only a brief moment to nod at the guards before sprinting past. Running through these paths evoked memories of frolking here with his brothers and sister in younger years, when they had all had more free time to enjoy simply being young. Nowadays it felt as if he hardly ever saw his older brother, current circumstances aside, he was usually with father learning to deal with clan business or off away on some mission or another.

His sister, Fan Jingyi, had been equally unavailable and she was even younger than him, only 12 this year! However their mother had insisted that the family techniques she practiced required her to start diligently honing them from a very young age. Thus from the time his sister could barely walk she had spent most of her time secluded away in mother’s training compound on the western edge of the village where she trained all the clan’s aspiring observers.

In his younger years Fan Zhong had been truly perplexed on the occupation his mother and sister fulfilled, a person who practiced techniques to see the strength of others? On top of that, village and clan leaders alike paid great sums of money for observers to monitor those that came in and out of their settlements, carefully reporting any of those who were in high martial arts realms. Being older now he felt a better understanding of why one may not want high strength martial artists entering the village unannounced, who knew what kind of nefarious plots people who hid their strength were up to?

As such it made some deal of sense why there were those dedicated to the craft of detecting the realm of others, though it still baffled him why they were valued so highly. So what if you could tell how strong someone was? If you couldn’t fight them and they had evil intentions then you could only run. In Fan Zhong’s eye’s he saw little value in much else other than telling when someone was stronger than him. Life had made this a simple task with his natural talent for martial arts, it had taken a genius like his brother to teach him the basic skills he currently possessed. How would he ever be powerful without such guidance? No, Fan zhong knew the answer to who was stronger than him, the answer was everyone.

This did not cause him much distress, it actually made life very simple. When posed with a violent altercation he had a single response, run! Simply another reason his training was so vexing for him, it complicated this matter greatly. Now he would have to assess those situations by actually giving them thought. If he simply chose to run after being trained in his family's martial ways, this was simply smacking the face of his ancestors!

Although he was considered the wasteful young master of the Fan Clan, personally insulting his heritage was another matter altogether, this would be an offense that could not be forgiven! It was not as if the clan would ask him to throw his life away on a whim, they would simply as he stood his ground unless he was completely outclassed. In their eyes this was simply giving face to the clan, for a proud warrior of the Fan clan running without putting up a fight was a great shame.

With The completion of his training he would have to at least be a third grade martial artist to receive his elder brother and fathers approvals. At this point there would be no way he could not be considered a true and proper warrior of the clan. Responsibilities thus upon him, ones he truly had no wish to uptake but simply had no choice in the matter. What was it his father had told him?

“Death son is as heavy as the mountains, duty however bears the pressure of all the heavens. Mind your duty as it is what gives you providence to live the way you do” his father had said standing in that frustratingly heroic and stoic way he always managed to exude.

Thinking of his father brought mixed feelings to his heart, on one hand deep pride and respect. On the other he felt a deep bitterness that ate away at his soul. From the first moments he could remember his father Fan Long was as immovable and stoic as the mountains, drawing emotions from him that approached any sort of familial warmth was like drawing blood from a stone. He was not cruel, not intentionally in any case, and treated all of his children with an equal measure of care and understanding. However it was obvious to Fan Zhong that his father was a martial artist who walked the paths of the martial way through and through there was no place in his heart for the arts of music or other entertainments.

When Fan Zhong had improved his calligraphy at a young age his father had shown outward approval, however that was it. No great work of calligraphy, nor epic poem and song recited on his lute had ever truly moved his father, ever truly made him proud of his son. Fan Zhong had simply never seen the spark of pride in his fathers eyes, the spark that he had shown whenever his older brother advanced his martial arts. Unfilial feelings vexed Fan Zhong’s heart, he knew this was an unkindness he did to his father, Fan Long deserved no blame for injustices he did not commit.

There was a deep part of his soul that resented that, it smoldered and burned with an ember of hatred. Was nothing he could do enough? What of playing in the imperial courts or wooing the daughter of the baroness? Writing music that would make immortals weep and cry in prostration? Why could he not be acknowledged for his merits, instead of faking an interest in martial training of which he held no interest?

With a deep breath Fan Zhong smothered these thoughts, they were truly unfair thoughts to have, he had never been criticised for his lack of interest in the martial ways. No his father had never once been unfair to him, it was simply that he knew deep down there were greedy parts of him that wanted more than respectful observation. Perhaps these were the legendary “heart demons” that immortals faced when overcoming tribulations, unresolved feelings from their mortal lives that would take over their minds, killing their consciousness and taking over their bodies to rampage endlessly until they were stopped.

In the stories the glorious heroes always struggled with their heart demons but at the last moment they would have enlightenment! The truths of the Eternal Dao would be revealed to them in their contemplation and in the jaws of defeat they would seize victory and destroy the demons in their hearts. Following this they would breakthrough and ascend to unimaginable heights of power sweeping away all evil and dominating all directions.

Fan Zhong wondered if he was truly such a good person, if a day came when the greediest and most insidious parts of his soul marshaled against him would he have the strength of character to deny them? They would promise him all of the things ever denied to him, the luxuries of the greatest immortal palaces, the melodies only heard in the most haunted halls of the highest gods. The admiration of those who disdained him, and yes the prideful gaze of his father.

When all you ever wanted was so directly offered what gave a man the strength of character to resist such things? To cut all mortal ties, cut all emotions and forsake the things one always desired, Fan Zhong thought it would take a better man than him to accomplish such a thing. At the very least it would take a much different person than the Fan Zhong that existed today.

Suddenly he was awoken from his deep contemplation by the sound of many footsteps approaching, looking around him and it seemed he had stumbled into the dense bamboo and foliage approaching one of the main trails. Exactly how far had he run? Judging from the sun, which was now high in the sky, it had not been a short run, however he felt no tiredness nor shortage of breath. Pushing the thought from mind ahead on the trail he spotted a group of 5 figures wearing Wang clan robes running from a dozen figures cloaked in black robes with masks on. The situation looked grim with the black robed pursers gaining on the Wang clan group.

Scanning the figures, Fan Zhong recognized Wang Qiang among them. The Wang clan was a neutral force that traded with almost all of the groups in the valley, it baffled Fan Zhong to think someone would be openly attacking them. What would be the point? Even the Wei clan, who were apparently having tax negotiations with the Wang according to Fan Yong’s account of Wang Qiang’s departure, had no reason to openly attack them.

If they wanted to suppress the Wang it would be a simple matter of denying and suppressing them economically, what reason was there to murder in the open and expose such ugly business? While contemplating this Fan Zhong rushed into the road between the two groups.

“Who dares attack the allies of my Fan Clan so close to Little Green Bamboo village stop at once!” Fan Zhong gave all of them the most authority infused tone and glare he could muster.

Inwardly he was incredibly scared of this group, any one from either could gut him like a freshly caught fish. However this was Fan Clan territory, how could a son of the clan leader allow something like this to happen right in front of his eyes?

“Brother Zhong?” Wang Qiang stared at him in incredulity seeming to not believe his eyes “It’s no use these men have already killed most of my party, we started with twenty now only we remain. We must make haste and flee before their reinforcements catch up.”

Fan Zhong hesitated in confusion and bewilderment, who were these people to ignore the face of his clan in it’s own territory? One had to know the Fan clan had a wide reputation in the valley for being full of crouching tigers and hidden dragons. Although they were the overlords of no vast amount of territory their warriors effectiveness spoke for itself and many village leaders would pay handsome amounts for their protection and bodyguard services.

This wasn’t even speaking of the deadly, traditionally female, Fan clan observers who practiced the assassination arts to compliment their mental techniques. Rumors said that under cover of night one of them could equal half a dozen fighters of similar realm and technique. Such a fearsome reputation is what had allowed Fan Zhong to enjoy a peaceful life and let the clan peddle their services all through the valley without fear of being targeted.

Paying no heed to reputation or rumor the black robed group did not pause for even a moment continuing to rush forward. Suddenly one of them drew and threw a flying dagger in one blurring fast motion, a barely visible string trailed behind it attached to a notch on the hilt. The dagger struck home burying itself in Wang Qiang’s leg as he howled with pain causing all of his companions to stop their faces darkening. With their prey now wounded the masked pursuers seemed to speed in as if smelling the blood that had been drawn, the one with the flying dagger withdrew it preparing for another throw. With a sigh the four Wang clan martial artists slowed and began forming a battle formation between the two youths and the oncoming enemies.

“ Young master Fan, please bring Young master Wang to safety, we will buy you time. Hurry I fear these old bones won’t be able to rest easily if such hopeful youths die here today” The Wang clan martial artist spoke, drawing his sword with his brothers, eyes and hands still as the sea on the calmest day.

Fan Zhong examined the man, he looked to be the same age as his father however Fan Zhong knew better. The man’s martial realm was simply too low to be that old, however as the Wang clan martial artists walked to what was assuredly their deaths they gave off that same stoic air his father had. It was as if their duty truly carried the weight of heaven as his father said, the sensation raising the hairs on Fan Zhong’s neck. Burning tears threatened to loose from his eye’s from the loss of such good men as painfully tore his gaze away. Quickly he slung Wang Qiang’s arm over his shoulder, beginning to drag him into the forest the way he had come. He had decided that with them moving slower he would need to use the terrain to his advantage.

“Brother Zhong… No, you can’t leave them. Please brother Zhong, I beg of you!!” Wang Qiang screamed and fought with Fan Zhong the entire way, however they both understood the truth.

If a master realm martial artist of the Fan clan had been present perhaps the entire situation might change, a high realm martial artist could do this, upturning heaven and earth and disdaining many foes at once. Unfortunately even if Wang Qiang’s uncles were 2nd grade martial artists who were truly master’s among normal men, against such numbers their defeat was a forgone conclusion without even considering reinforcements. It would be the luck of the heaven’s if he and Wang Qiang lived through the day, let alone the ones who had gone head on to face the enemy.

Slowly Wang Qiang stopped fighting him and started limping along with him, assisting their speed greatly. The thick bamboo and foliage that had seemed so alive and vibrant suddenly became a harrowing place filled with shadows. In every shadow lay a cold blade, every snapped twig or rustled leaf heralded one of their pursuers closing in.

The once warm air seemed to cool, cutting his throat as Fan Zhong gasped increasingly more for air moving along with as much speed as he could muster. High in the sky the sun seemed to laugh and jeer at his stupidity, a worthless young master indeed dying within his clan's own bamboo forest. How could he come so far from the village without an escort? Thinking of this Fan Zhong wandered just how far he had come in his jogging, his inner contemplation had made the time seem to fly by and he truly had little idea how far they were from the village.

At this moment Fan Zhong saw a clearing ahead that stretched as far as his eye could see, a field of grass that housed a single tree, the sight caused him to gape. This was the Field of Shifting Grass, a place the observers of the clan came to train. They would sit in the tree and others would attempt to approach them stealthy in the tall grass.

He had only been here once with his mother to retrieve his sister after the senior observers had been training her one day, it was how he knew that they were about an hour away from the village. Despair threatened to cloud his heart and make him drop to his knees but one look at Wang Qiang on his shoulder filled him with the energy to continue, he would save his friend!

Moving to the tree Fan Zhong used the hand holds the observers had placed to haul Wan Qiang into the spotters nest that was arranged among the branches, there he took a belt knife from the other boy and used it to cut strips from his robes. After some time he had arranged a makeshift bandage around the leg wound of his friend enough to stop the bleeding. With this Fan Zhong closed his eyes and centered himself in the way his mother had once taught him. At a young age all Fan clan members are tested for capability with the mental techniques of observers and Fan Zhong had been no exception.

To do this the youths were taught a simple mental exercise to clear their mind and told to observe as a container was upturned with grains of rice in it. This test starts with only 10 or so grains of rice in the first container and repeats ten times increasing by 10 or so until there are 100 grains of rice in the container, of course the amount varies by less or more so the exact number is not known beforehand this prevents cheating. Each time the test happens every youth that can correctly count the grains of falling rice passes, others are weeded out.

In this way if a Fan clan youth exceeds the eighth test they are immediately offered a position as a core disciple of the clan observers. Those that can pass the 7th test can join as inner disciples. If one can pass the 6th test can join as outer disciples and those that pass the 5th test are accepted as temporary disciples who must pass a test after 1 year to retain their position.

Fan Zhong had passed the 5th test, showing mediocre results. However today his sense’s felt exceptionally sharp, he felt as if he could see every detail of the Flowing Grass Field. At this moment Fan Zhong took out a paper talisman his father had once given him, it was something that was incredibly expensive and he was told to only use it when his life depended on it. Earlier when he had thought they were closer to the village the talisman had been far from his mind now however…

Without hesitation he tore the talisman in half and threw the pieces into the air, immediately the air around him seemed to rush out in all directions just like it did when his father and brother expelled the “Qi” they gathered. In a flash the pieces flew off towards the direction of the village, and then Fan Zhong waited in silence, tuning himself to all the world around him until. If this were the stories he had read he would be the hero and gain a new understanding from this event breaking through a bottleneck and destroying all the foes that came through the night protecting Wang Qiang and returning triumphant! However all Fan Zhong could feel was the wind rushing around him and the sound of swaying tall grass.

Like this an eternity seemed to pass before Fan Zhong spotted a black robed figure entering the field from the same direction he and Wang Qiang had come from. The figure stalked around the field seeming to move without disturbing the tall grass he passed through. Malice spewed from the robed assailant as they searched in a criss crossing pattern scouring every area for them. Fan Zhong was impressed, had he not been observing from the tree he would be none the wiser about the approaching assailant.

“Do the vaunted Fan and Wang enjoy cowering in the trees like rats? I suppose with dogs such as these the master must be trash as well” The black robed figure bellowed, revealing the deep voice of an older man.

As the man shouted he waved what seemed to be a lump of something that dangled in his hands. It took Fan Zhong a moment to recognize the head of the Wang clan martial artist who had promised to buy him time.

“ Hmph not even honorable enough to avenge your men, son’s of whore’s everyone of you” the disgust in his voice rose the indignation in Fan Zhong’s belly as the man threw the head at the tree.

Somehow his body seemed to move itself and Fan Zhong found himself on the ground catching the head and slowly lowering it to the ground, meeting the eyes of the pursuer with all of the anger and spite he could conjure.

“Hehe, I’ll give you credit boy you have honor. Although it seems that is to my favor today instead of yours” the black robed man cackled behind the jade white mask he wore as he leveled his sword at Fan Zhong.

Fan Zhong assumed the martial stance his brother had taught him once again bringing to bear a formless pressure from the perfection Fan Cheng had drilled into his technique. His assailant was no village bully however and he didn't even hesitate at the feeling, instead choosing to turn his ascending diagonal cut into a side stepping thrust that aimed for Fan Zhong’s heart. Panic swelled in his heart and Fan Zhong lost all of his martial pose stumbling to the side and almost falling forward.

Desperately he righted himself while pivoting on his heel to face his opponent, wincing as at the pain caused by the blade running across his side narrowly missing a fatal point. Shakingly Fan Zhong once again resumed his stance, his opponent and him having traded places in the exchange. Now his back was to the field and his opponent's back was to the tree.

“All air and no bite eh? No fun at all, guess I'll end this quickly then” with these words the masked martial artist raised his sword in an incredibly formal salute and seemed to blur his entire demeanor changing, as if a sword was being drawn from its sheath.

In an instant the world froze, all that Fan Zhong could feel were the yawning jaws of death. It was as simple as that, no mistake, a vastly superior opponent had decided to kill him and so he would die. At that moment Fan Zhong remembered his brother’s advancement ceremony to the master realm, during this ceremony his father had asked Fan Cheng to show a single technique that encompassed his understanding of the clan’s martial arts. A single palm strike, the simplest one that even Fan Zhong knew, the foundation technique of the clan “All Things are Birthed from the Origin”.

It was a simple technique requiring the user to simply strike forward and slam a palm into the opponent's dantian ( slightly above the belly button), meant to disrupt the breathing and qi control of the enemy. When Fan Cheng had performed this simple palm technique the world had seemed to freeze, as it did now. That instant the entire world condensed into his elder brother's palm and pressed upon the huge boulder he was striking, there was only a light rumble as the massive boulder simply disintegrated into dust.

Fan Zhong had seen his father’s eyes full of so much pride it seemed threatened to scour his existence from the earth, all of the approval he had ever sought was right in front of him and it had been given to his brother. That pain gathered and smoldered, his envy coalescing upon his hand as Fan Zhong met the eyes of the man about to kill him.

“Duty bears the weight of the heavens, huh?” Fan Zhong sneered inwardly “then experience this, in my death experience the weight of the duty I disdained in life!”

Taking all the feelings of duty, guilt, anger, fear and everything else he had, Fan Zhong threw himself forward into his opponent's guard a hair out of the path of the opponent's blade, the edge kissing his skin as it parted his robe like water. The air shook as a single palm strike range true with the All Things are Birthed from the Origin technique hitting the black robed man. The blow struck true with a strength that should have been impossible given Fan Zhong’s martial arts cultivation. With his all spent Fan Zhong walked over to the tree which now had a corpse laying at the base and slumped down beside the dead man

Fan Zhong came to his senses and barely managed to raise his head. Immediately he spotted 6 black robed figures who looked worse for wear with tears on their robes, some gaped at the sight of him others glared at him with anger gazes. Judging from the sun's setting position it had been roughly an hour since he duel with the first assailant, Fan Zhon was so tired he couldn't even open his mouth to speak. There were no words exchanged, blades flew from sheaths and the attackers rushed on killing intent bearing down on him.

As the blades approached a figure landed in front of Fan Zhong, a cruel silver light flashed out in an arc forcing all the attackers away and flattening all the tall grass in the entire field with the force of the landing and blow. Suddenly an enormous pressure the likes of which he had never felt pressed down on Fan Zhong and the fury boiling within the silver moons that were his mother’s eyes..