The sun blazed high in the sky, heating the wind as it rushed across the lush forest of bamboo that spanned the northern region of the Flowing Grass Valley. Songbirds sang beautiful songs as they flew amongst the tall shoots. However, for those on the ground occasional gusts of wind were the only reprieve they received from the sweltering temperatures of the day. Inside of this forest was a barely discernible road that drove a somewhat straight path through the undergrowth, cutting a traversable path through the sharp inclines and undergrowth.

Along the path, the terrain rose slowly in some places and sharply in others leveling off for some kilometers before descending back to the level of the road. Obviously, the road saw some use as care had been taken to fill in crude ramps to allow smooth ascension and descent upon the winding terrain. It was here that the party of Sir Teng, his crew, and Fan Shun’s team of bodyguards found themselves.

Along with them were two carts drawn by six strong pack horses that worked tirelessly to pull the massive amount of cargo the party had. All of the party was present except for Su Fen. Upon learning that they would be traveling by land Fan Shun had determined that he and the other senior warrior would take turns each day serving as a forward scout. So it went that today, the second day of the two-week venture, Su Fen was some half a kilometer ahead of them scouting from whatever hill or high vantage terrain he could find.

So with the scouting arrangement determined Fan Shun had distributed the traveling formation of the party. He would walk ahead of the carts with two of Sir Teng’s men, occasionally moving ahead to receive reports from Su Fen every few hours. Likewise, Su Fen would fill the same role when the team leader was on scouting duty.

Sir Teng rode in the passenger seat of the wagons, alongside one of his crewmates who had experience as a coach driver and was guiding the horses to keep a steady pace. This left Fan Zhong, Zi Bao, Little White, and the remaining two members of Sir Teng’s crew to bring up the rear of the formation. Walking beside his once cute and small companion Fan Zhong realized that the terms perhaps didn’t fit the water wolf anymore.

By now his faithful little brother was almost a year old, the age of maturity for most normal wolves, and had grown to be almost three-quarters of a meter tall. Strong muscles lined the wolf’s slightly translucent form and he weighed almost 27 kg! Fan Zhong reasoned that perhaps the growth had simply gone unnoticed by him as he saw the animal every day. As such the changes seemed less drastic to his eyes and his mind simply didn’t register them.

Now that he was taking them all in as a whole though the change was rather drastic, he figured that within the next month or two Little White’s growth would stop and he would be full grown. While thinking this his arm reached down and slowly petted his faithful companion, not even needing to bend down anymore to do so. Done musing about the growth of Little white his mind drifted once again to the awful heat of the day.

Fan Zhong was no stranger to traveling by foot, although it wasn’t his preferred way to move about, however, the last two days had been an exercise of his patience. If the panting faces of Sir Teng’s men were anything to go by it seemed they too were exhausted by the temperature. Wiping some sweat off his face with one hand, and swatting several blood-sucking insects out of the air afterward, Fan Zhong took a deep breath to steady himself.

“So Brother Bao, did you enjoy your time at the Serene Nightingale? I understand it was your first experience with such a place, such a perspective should prove intriguing if not amusing” Fan Zhong asked the other young man, trying his best to keep an upbeat tone as if will alone could beat back the heat.

Although their first visit to the Serene Nightingale had ended with only drink Fan Zhong had pestered the other young man every day until he finally relented and they returned the night before the party departed. Afterward, Zi Bao met Fan Zhong the next day and refused to speak about his experiences. Since the day was dragging on he felt that making small talk and dragging the story out of his fellow warrior would help distract from the heat.

“Has anyone ever told you that those who don’t seek death won’t find it?” Zi Bao replied sternly, leveling a glare at Fan Zhong.

“Hmph, but you misunderstand Brother Bao. My death-seeking skills are legendary in Flowing Grass Valley; they may have even reached the grandmaster realm!” Fan Zhong said while chuckling slightly “ So… How was it?”

“It was pleasant, if a bit awkward” Zi Bao replied, gritting his teeth as if someone had just finished insulting his entire lineage “are you satisfied now? I think everyone would prefer to suffer this torture in peaceful silence.”

Fan Zhong stared at his teammate for a moment before bursting out laughing at the other young man.

“Awkward… Awkward he says! Brothers, do you hear this? Big man Brother Bao says handling fair maidens in bed is ‘Awkward” Fan Zhong shouted between laughter, barely managing to breathe.

At this Zi Bao’s ears reddened as if they were hot coals inside a furnace and he turned to face Fan Zhong with an expression of anger so great others would be worried steam would pour from his mouth and ears at any moment. With a quick movement, the young man slammed his staff into the ground butt first and prepared to fall into a void gate stance. Fan Zhong held his hands up in protest attempting to placate his fellow warrior.

He truly hadn’t meant any offense; however, the image of the normally arrogant young man, who was so proud of his manly warrior pride, being meek and awkward with an escort of the night was simply too funny. Before he had a chance to control himself the laughter had been flowing from his lips with no way to stop it.

“I swear I’ll beat your ugly face up so much that all those pretty girls you like to dance with will avoid you like the plague for the rest of your days!” Zi Bao said as he leveled his staff Fan Zhong and lunged.

Fan Zhong barely got himself under control and without time to raise his weapon he abandoned it and used his hands to execute a hasty shifting palm strike. The circular footwork of the technique brought him to the outside of Zi Bao's guard and allowed him to make some distance between the two. Normally such a move would be risky as the force of the staff, which was harder than steel, could've injured his bare hands however the standard-issue natural treasure handwraps did their job and protected him.

As the exchange happened Fan Zhong’s staff fell to the ground rolling a few feet away from him after he abandoned it.

“Peace brother Bao, peace. I deeply apologize, truly no offense was meant” Fan Zhong said, still struggling to get his breathing under control from both the exertion as well as the fit of laughter.

“WARRIORS! Were you trained to act like spoiled children while on DUTY?!?!” Fan Shun’s ironclad voice rang out before Zi Bao had the chance to respond and the two turned to see the cart stopped a dozen or so paces ahead of them.

Standing to the side of the formation was Fan Shun who had just come back from the front to check on the commotion. Looking into the older man’s eyes Fan Zhong felt the same pressure of command he normally only felt from his brother or father when they were giving orders. Shame blossomed in his stomach as he quickly looked away to avoid meeting the ice-cold gaze Fan Shun sent their way.

“If you want to spar then do it on your own time. Now get back in formation, we have a lot of ground to cover. Warrior Bao, if I ever see you attack a fellow clan warrior again without giving me a damn good reason you’ll wish they were fighting you instead of me,” Fan shun said as he composed himself, reigning in his presence and the slight amount of anger that had seeped into his expression. “And warrior Zhong, if I ever see you drop your weapon on duty again you’ll suddenly find it so far up your ass it’ll be much harder to lose ever again”

With those final words, the older warrior returned to the head of the formation, and the half-formed smirk Fan Zhong had been giving Zi Bao was crushed into a frown of shame.

“Honestly brother Bao, I meant no disrespect,'' Fan Zhong said to the other warrior and bowed deeply “Please forgive me if you can find it in your heart.”

Zi Bao looked at him with a frown for a moment as he walked up to Fan Zhong and stood there until he retrieved his weapon from the ground. As they picked up their pace to catch up to the party Zi Bao nodded his head and seemed to look away in embarrassment while mumbling something.

“What was that brother Bao?” Fan Zhong said with a curious look.

Zi Bao narrowed his eyes at him for a brief moment before replying in a barely audible whisper.

“I said I'd forgive you… As long as you paid for next time as an apology” the young warrior replied while his face quickly reddened and he quickened his pace.

Fan Zhong’s face twisted into an expression of bewilderment before his eyes widened in realization at what his companion was telling him.

“I knew it! Quickly brother Bao, tell me everything! We’ll make a man of culture out of you yet!” Fan Zhong quickened his pace to a run, smiling ear to ear.

Oblivious to what was going on but happy to be doing something other than walking slowly Little White Barked to signal his approval of running and quickly darted after the pair. Like this, the journey continued however it seemed to go by much faster for Fan Zhong now that Zi Bao was once again convinced to make small talk. Quickly the next two days passed and thankfully with them the weather cooled slightly

As if just on time for the change in temperature the terrain changed as well as the party exited the edge of the forest and came upon an expansive prairie with wide open grass fields. Alongside the open space, the terrain sometimes sloped in places giving rise to sparse sets of hills and ravines. The party chose to camp at the edge of the forest and set out into the prairie in the morning.

Fan Shun returned to the camp after doing preliminary scouting and concluded that the way forward should be safe signaling for the party to continue their journey. This first day passed without preamble and the next morning Su Fen reported similar results to the previous day. With this, the group started their trek for the day without much preamble.

Around three hours past midday the party was making their way along a piece of the road with a sharp incline to the left. Although the incline was mostly grass and dirt and looked scaleable albeit slowly, it cut an imposing figure with the crest being only 40 feet away from the road itself. The incline that was facing the path itself was steep, however, the party had been able to see part of the backside from a distance a few hours ago.

That had revealed that side to slope gently to the crest from a wide expanse of flat land. After traveling alongside this ridge for around half an hour Fan Shun held up his hand to halt everyone. Sir Teng whispered something to the crewman driving the carts and the message was quickly passed back as one of the two crewmen in the back ran up to talk to them. He quickly returned with the two of the wooden shields that had been used for the mirage waves and motioned for Zi Bao, Fan Zhong, and his fellow crewman to come up to the front of the formation.

All of them jogged up to meet the rest of the party and the crewmen formed a defensive circle with the wooden shields around them with Sir Teng and the bodyguards at the center. It was then that Fan Zhong noticed Fan Shun was standing out in front of everyone facing a middle-aged man with several nasty scars on his face. Looking at the ridge above them he could barely make out the occasional shapes of notched arrows held just too close to the edge to give the hiding assailants away.

“Good evening sir. May I ask what business you have with us?” Fan Shun said in a respectful tone, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment of the other man.

“Hmph, shut your trap asshole. Leave the goods and your belongings, then walk your sorry asses out of here before something unfortunate happens to you” The man replied with a sneer on his face.

“That's a rather harsh request. Alas, not one we can comply with. Come now, we’re all adults here. Simply move aside and I’ll let you walk away from this clearing with your life. A reasonable exchange, all things considered.” Fan Shun replied with steel in his voice while bringing his hand to rest on the palm of his sheathed sword.

“Look at you with your fancy clothes and sword, playing bodyguard. Hauling enough goods to feed a village for a month while people are starving in droves throughout the valley. Cut the bravado or I’ll show you what a real martial artist can do.” With these words, the bandit flashed a token that had five trigrams arranged in the pattern of a star with a wide center.

Inside the center was the symbol for ‘Second’ written with what Fan Zhong recognized as considerably good calligraphy. He also recognized the crest as that of the ‘Five Trigrams Contain Four Floods Sect’ commonly referred to as the Five Trigrams sect as shorthand in the valley. Thinking about his lessons with Fan Cheng he remembered that the sect was led by an aging master realm martial artist who studied the art of formations and the sword.

Not much else came to mind as it was one of the newer schools in the valley only being established in the last 60 years. What caught Fan Zhong’s eye was that the token had a slash across it marking the man as an exiled disciple of the sect. Most likely, the man had reached the second-grade realm while within the sect and after being frustrated with his progress had done something drastic that had resulted in his exile.

“Young man the world is wide and vast, do you think you're the only one with neat trinkets to show,” Fan Shun said as he flashed a predatory smile while pulling aside his outer martial robes to reveal the medallion at his neck.

Carved into the spirit bamboo medallion was the crest of the Fan clan inside which two words were located ‘Senior Warrior’. This denoted that Fan Shun was one of the elites of the clan bodyguards and was only given to those who the elders deemed capable of leading full teams on missions. Naturally, this wasn’t the full extent of the older warrior's skills as he was an elite among the elite warriors who was close to reaching the master stage.

However, even normal senior warriors of the Fan clan were respected throughout the valley and feared by bandits. For a moment a flash of fear passed through the wouldbe bandit's eyes before he regained control of himself.

“Besides this fire iron was purchased honestly. Think, many people in the world have hardships and my heart truly goes out to them. However, if you go around helping every single person in need you’ll soon find you’re the one in need before long. Sadly it is a fact of life that you simply cannot help everyone, this small amount of goods won’t change that fellow daoist” Fan Shun replied, sadness creeping into his expression as the last words left his lips.

Fan Zhong was shocked at the older warrior calling the bandit ‘fellow daoist’ as it was a term usually only used in old terms by heroes to address others of equal skill or power. In life, he had only heard his father use the term when talking to the most respected masters of the valley in the most formal settings. Fan Zhong’s mouth twisted into a bit of a grimace at Fan Shun giving such a respectful title to a bandit however he held his tongue, perhaps it was simply the old warrior being lost in his thoughts on life.

“Hmph, Fan clan or not, you're outnumbered and that friend of yours is preoccupied. Surrender, I have 20 men with arrows and weapons over that ridge. Even a vaunted senior Fan clan bodyguard can’t hope to win with those odds and besides those boys behind you look so green I’d wager they won’t count for much.” The bandit’s eyes show trepidation but also desperation.

At the mention of Su Fen, however, the old warrior’s calm visage seemed to fall away as if cleaved by a blade. Instantly Fan Zhong felt the hair on his body stand on end as the feeling of impending death and danger rolled off Fan Shun. He’d only felt this feeling for a moment during their sparring; however, now it fell upon all present as a heavy suffocating veil.

“I’ll give you a single chance to speak, worm. What did you do to Su Fen?” Fan Shuns eyes flashed with tiny sparks of golden light as his gaze bore down on the bandit like a piercing sword.

Desperation and panic raged in the bandit's eyes as he too felt the impending death radiating off the older warrior and he yelled a war cry, drawing his sword while charging at Fan Shun. Similar cries boomed over the ridge like an explosion as bandits appeared, loosing arrows and charging forward with weapons held high. Half of the ten arrows veered off and Fan Zhong could tell they would miss the formation entirely.

As the younger warriors and Sir Teng’s group readied themselves to face the bandits the leader rushed at Fan shun with zeal. Before the arrows even landed he was halfway to the older warrior. At that moment, Fan shun took a breath, he took two steps forward-moving twice as fast as the bandit reaching him in an instant. As the sword of his assailant came forward for a horizontal slash the seasoned warrior slipped his sheathed sword from his belt loop and brought it forward to block.

Surprisingly the bandit kept out with this motion and twisted his wrist to deliver a reverse cut, his blade, and movements flowing like the water of a raging river to make the transition fast, seamless and deadly. With inhuman speed, Fan Shun used a small bit of the momentum he had started storing in his sheath to quickly change the direction of his block switching from a shifting palm strike to a mortal receiving palm. In a blur his wrapped hand and sheath pincered the blade with inhuman strength stopping the bandit's sword swing dead in its tracks as the older warrior’s knee rose at the same time punching into the other man's midsection with a sickening crunch.

Without a pause in one fluid motion, Fan Shun moved his sheath and tilted his hand slightly so that he took control of the contact between his weapon and the opponents just as if they were crossing swords in a bind. As the bandit crumpled forward-leaning onto his knee the draw cut technique met his neck sending his head to the ground in short order. Kicking the man’s body off him while executing his sheathing technique, Fan shun looked back just in time to see four arrows contacting the wooden shield. The Crewmen held fast and the arrows were stopped dead in their tracks, a loud thunking noise resounding as they impacted exactly as the bandit leader's body hit the ground. Unfortunately, the fifth arrow had gone between two shields and was now lodged in Fan Zhong’s left leg.

“Warrior Bao, Warrior Zhong, keep them away from the crew. I’ll deal with the archers.” With these words, Fan Shun bounded forward ascending the slope towards the archers at a frightening pace.

Fan Zhong winced as he felt the arrow sending lightning bolts of pain up his leg. With a calming breath, he readied himself for the approach of the bandits. Little White stood to his side growling menacingly at the approaching attackers only held back by his concern to defend Fan Zhong.

“Brother Bao cover me” Saying this Fan Zhong stepped forward as the bandits got within ten steps of them without giving Zi Bao a chance to respond.

Seeing them now he could count that there were ten bandits approaching with melee weapons while the ten archers were quickly being dismantled by Fan Shun. Knowing this Fan Zhong took two steps forward and then started contact juggling his staff, keeping the momentum of his steps up as he walked back and forth in a line between the two parties. Every step caused lancing pain to spread up his leg but that didn’t stop Fan Zhong’s focus, he had dealt with pain before and a battle was no place to be distracted by something so trivial.

“You gonna dance all day boy?” An older-looking bandit sneered at him stepping forward with several others brandishing spears.

“Who’re you calling a boy, whelp?” Fan Zhong heard a voice behind him and saw Sir Teng walking forward with Zi Bao and the rest of the crew who now had spears of their own.

Sir Teng was holding his knives and a look of disgust was plastered over his face.

“Come, brother Zhong, let us drive these whore sons to their graves.” the merchant said before spitting at the feet of the bandits.

Grimacing, Fan Zhong looked at Zi bao, who had the stoic expression of an angry stone, before nodding to the merchant knowing he couldn't stop the older man once he was on a roll. Originally he had intended to posture and switch in and out with Zi Bao keeping the enemy at most out of a full-on engagement. Now that Sir Teng was riled up though that idea was truly dead. All that was left now was to ride the results of a full engagement. The bandits took this as their cue to attack and three rushed at Fan Zhong with spears thrusting.

Although they appeared dangerous at first the spear thrusts were wild with little strength behind them. Using some of the stored momentum from his previous movement Fan Zhong executed a rapid series of three shifting palms blowing all the spears to the side. He was about to follow up with an origin-piercing palm when a sword came at him out of the corner of his vision.

With a panicked motion, Fan Zhong grabbed his staff with his offhand and juggled it on the outside of his left elbow to keep the momentum conserved. While doing this he put the handwraps on his right hand in between the sword and his side in time to prevent the blade from eviscerating him. Pain still came as the sword was able to dig in a few centimeters causing a gash on the right side of his body to start bleeding.

Not stopping to even consider the wound, Fan Zhong grabbed the bottom half of his staff with his right hand and turned to face his attacker while bringing the top part of his weapon down in an arcing heaven-origin palm from his left hand. The weapon met a one-handed sword block from the bandit and the sword was pushed down into the man's shoulder as the staff crushed through such a weak guard colliding with the bandit where his neck met his shoulder. Fan Zhong had put all of the momentum he had saved up to this point into the strike and it crashed into the man with a sickly sweet impact pushing further than a blunt object should into flesh.

Bone was pulverized while skin and tissue were torn as blood spilled from every orifice of the bandit’s face. On the ground gasping for air the man was dead a second later. Unable to take a break Fan Zhong used a shifting palm strike to bat away another spear strike and took another unseen spear to his shoulder with the blade biting deep into his flesh. Roaring with all his might Little White came bounding from the side of the spear man that had skewered his master, taking the bandit’s throat in his jaws and tearing it away in a single snap of his jaws.

Looking around Fan Zhong saw one of the crew members falling over dead as a bandit removed a sword from his throat while the rest of the crew and Sir Teng were close by to him each fending off an opponent or two. His eyes caught on Zi Bao who had been isolated from the rest of them and was being harassed from both sides by two warriors, one with a mace and the other with an ax. These bandits seemed to be more skilled than the ones who had attacked him working together and attacking in unison from opposite sides.

“Little brother,” Fan Zhong said with a tender voice “can you take that one?”

With his last words, he pointed at the bandit who had killed the isolated crewman and was making his way over to Sir Teng’s group. Little white looked at him with a piercing gaze before barking in acknowledgment and turning entirely invisible. With a nod, to the space he thought his faithful company was in, Fan Zhong sprinted to help Zi Bao.

Struggling, he desperately tried to muster momentum with momentum of shifting earth; however, he was barely able to increase his speed by a little. Looking on with clenched teeth he forced through the pain and surveyed the battle of his teammate. Zi Bao was fending for himself however multiple wounds on his sides, arms, and legs signaled that this was a battle of attrition that he was losing.

With the last bit of energy that he could muster Fan Zhong roared and charged at the man standing between the young warrior and the rest of the party yelling

“Brother Bao regroup!”

Fan Zhong laid into the ax wielder with an onslaught of four piercing palms chained together with shifting palm strikes thrown in to reposition and keep his opponent off balance. In the end, the bandit parried all of his strikes and as they both stared at each other panting he felt someone standing behind him. Turning to look out of the corner of his eye Fan Zhong saw he stood back to back with an exhausted Zi Bao who was facing his own opponent, the mace wielder.

“You moron, didn’t I tell you what happens to those who seek death” Zi Bao’s voice was barely a whisper at this point as he struggled to stay on his feet.

“Hmph, I’m the moron? Brother Bao, the line of escape was secured, why are you still here?” Fan Zhong asked in the mock tone of someone who had been wronged.

“The path of a warrior is one that leads towards an end on a battlefield, brother Zhong. If today is to be my end let it be with honor fighting alongside you” Zi Bao managed to say these words before spitting up some blood, leveling a gaze of defiance at the bandits.

“Hahahaha, Brother Bao today your ancestors shine proudly on you. The honor of the Zi is still something to behold indeed!” Fan Zhong said with a shout as he lunged forward even as his left leg gave out, sending him on a fall towards the ground.

Similarly, Zi Bao also collapsed and the bandits took this opportunity to attack lunging forward with their weapons at the drained warriors. At that moment a blur flashed across Fan Zhong's vision and he heard a click then another rush of wind before a second clicking sound rang out. Afterward, both bandits flew outward as a line of blood shot out in a straight line from a piercing wound in each of their stomachs at precisely the same point.

Fan Shun stood behind the mace-wielding bandit's body, which now lay on the ground, sheathing his sword like a graceful sword immortal. Looming over the dead bandits covered in blood like a god of war the older warrior blurred again. Fan Zhong lacked the energy to even sit up and turn his head so he could only listen to the five subsequent clicks heralding the sword technique before all became quiet. Hearing a noise Fan Zhong looked up to see Su Fen walking over a shallow crest on the far horizon limping and with an arrow sticking out of his left shoulder but blessedly alive.

With that Fan Zhong closed his eyes and took a deep breath, thanking the heavens that he had once again survived a dance with death.