With a gasp Fan Zhong awoke, sitting up in his bedroll as cold sweat poured from his face. After a few moments, he was able to calm himself and get a bearing on the surroundings. It seemed it was still night as outside of the tent’s opening only the flickering of torches could be seen to ward off the ink blackness that blanketed everything.

Exhaustion slowly settled back onto him as Fan Zhong realized that even after struggling to get to sleep he had only managed a few hours of rest before being startled awake. Another dream had visited him that night, a dream where soldiers with silhouetted faces beat him. In this dream fires and evil spirits seemed to dance on the edge of his vision as the unrecognizable soldiers beat him over and over demanding for him to tell them!

However, he had no idea what they wished for him to tell. At first Fan Zhong had kept up the stoic demeanor befitting a warrior of the clan but soon the pain mounted and he started to whimper miserably. After what seemed like an eternity Fan Zhong started saying anything to stop the beatings however no end came, no answers could satisfy these demons.

When it seemed that death would come to him a stirring came from the back of his mind, a place that he seemed to be willfully ignoring. At that moment voices seemed to curl around his thoughts whispering answers that were just barely unintelligible. Hearing this his mind started to panic, for some reason he feared those answers more than death itself.

Conflicting emotions warred in his mind as it felt like it would be torn asunder, his base instinct to survive warring with an almost primal fear of whatever dreadful answer was contained within the whispering voices. Finally, after the world turned white Fan Zhong found himself waking here, inside his tent. Shivering from a cold that was both physical and mental, Fan Zhong pulled his cloak up closer around him for comfort.

It was then that the shouts could be heard, they started slowly as echoes heard from distant thunder. Soon the noise grew just the drums crescendoing that heralded the storm the thunder warned of. From beside him, Zi Bao stirred and soon Su Fen was pushing open the small tent the two resided in.

“Assemble junior warriors, the enemy is attacking” Su Fen’s voice carried a hard edge that was unlike his normal demeanor.

Understanding the situation to be dire, both Fan Zhong and Zi Bao scrambled to retrieve their weapons and get into formation. Fan Shun was shouting orders as fires blazed at the southwest corner of the village. The darting shadows of observers moving towards the fire along rooftops could be seen carrying buckets to stem the burning as the warriors quickly formed relay lines between the wells and buildings.

Quickly Su Fen’s squad was assembled by Fan Shun and an observer from the headquarters unit along with two other squads to launch a counter offense and push back the enemy. Streets blurred by as the Fan clan warriors activated their movement techniques to the extreme. Soon, the southwestern corner of the wall came into view and Fan Zhong’s expression became ugly.

There, an entire Fan clan battle squad lay dead, scattered along the wall and ground. Amidst his fallen brethren and sisters over a dozen, enemies lay broken as well. Only ten or so enemies remained with two of them wearing the signature emerald robes of the Wei clan under their pitch black cloaks. Each of the assailants had full black outer clothing on with a dark-colored paper talisman that was only visible inside the light of the burning buildings.

With this, it became apparent that the enemy had used some sort of stealth talisman along with the cover of night to sneak close to the walls. Their attack point was well chosen as well as the building that seemed to be burnt the worst was Forest Depths Village’s food storage warehouse. If too much of the food burned the Fan clan battalion simply wouldn’t have enough to feed the villagers.

Hatred burned in Fan Zhong’s heart as his eyes saw the dead Fan clan warriors. Fan Shun also seemed enraged as he blurred forward while shouting a warcry that was heard throughout the entire village. In a panic, some of the enemies tried to flee while others threw down their weapons in surrender. Not a single one made it to the wall and by the time Fan Zhong calmed down enough to see, his hands were stained red as they gripped the red bloody pulp that had been the head of a female warrior.

The corpse of the mercenary was adorned in shoddy-looking armor made of low-quality spirit beast leather. Emblazoned proudly on the front was the symbol of her company, two intertwining black dragons, and hanging just from the now headless neck was a locket clutched tightly in a pale hand. Inside the locket, Fan Zhong saw the crest of the woman’s family along with a painted portrait of her holding a younger girl marked ‘so little Xiang can always protect her elder sister’.

Bile rose in Fan Zhong’s throat and for the first time, he retched on the ground uncontrollably after killing someone. After a few minutes, a hand rested on his shoulder and Fan Zhong violently shook it off, rising to his knees and angrily glaring at the person who touched him. His mind was spinning in every direction, anger at the Wei for starting this war, anger at the mercenaries for agreeing to serve them, and anger at himself for having so little control.

This hadn’t been a fight, the intelligence reports from the scouts had said that there were normal mortals and third-grade martial artists among the fighters. Fan Zhong had abused that fact and had torn apart this woman like soft paper with no regard for her surrender and helplessness. How could anyone understand the loathing he felt? The rage that drove him to so blindly lash out at the enemy? How could anyone keep living in this world knowing the pain that coursed through his being at this moment?

When Fan Zhong’s eyes finally landed on the person who had come to comfort him he felt deep shame. Fan Shun stood above him with a deepness in his eyes that Fan Zhong had never truly comprehended. In those eyes, feelings that couldn’t be expressed with a thousand words transferred to Fan Zhong.

Of years dwelling in this pain, of comrades lost and enemies killed, and of hard decisions made that still haunted one for the rest of their days. All of this and more rested in the calm expression of Fan Shun and at that moment Fan Zhong felt like the most petulant of children. Previously he had always just thought of the senior warrior as someone wise, someone to follow in the martial way.

How naive, now he saw the deep pain that life had carved into Fan Shun. Sorrow only decades of walking the way of a martial artist could bring. At that moment, Fan Zhong understood that he was barely starting to understand the weight of the duty on his shoulders and the weight his clan carried. With a barely audible sob, he pulled himself together and stood to salute Fan Shun.

The rest of the warriors stood silently and waited as not only Fan Zhong composed himself but Mo Hui, as well as Fan Yong, also recovered. Earlier during the battle for their lives at the gates these young warriors barely had time to keep their lives. Now they had killed enemies in a cold and personal way, with this each was affected quite severely.

In short order, the observers finished putting out most of the fire, and a general assembly was called in the town square.

“Today is a day of sorrow brothers and sisters, half a dozen of our own lie dead while four villagers gave their lives to buy time for the legion to muster.” Fan Ping’s voice rang out over the square as flickering torches cast shadows over her face “The enemy is more devious than was thought, they used powerful illusion talismans to repel down the cliff face to the southwest and then approach the wall. By the time the alarm was raised, it was too late and fire had been set to the warehouse.”

Growls could be heard from the warriors at the mention of their fallen brethren, those brave souls had not died in battle but by knives in the dark that stopped them from fighting back effectively. Fan Ping’s expression was hard as stone as she spoke and with a single narrowing of her eyes, all sound ceased. Even the wind seemed to obey her command momentarily ceasing its endless moonlight song.

“I will not lie to you, the losses to our supplies are great. After a review of the stock, the headquarters logistics officer tells me that by standard measurements we have to last for three months. This is not enough to finish our task as you all know. To this end we have no choice but to preserve, harsh rationing will go into effect and we will hold until the allied forces arrive. It is now, brothers and sisters, that heaven tests our resolve. Under the eyes of our ancestors, we cannot afford to fail!” Fan Ping’s speech boosted the morale of the legion and by the end of her speech, the fan clan warriors were reinvigorated to outlast the siege.

So started in earnest the siege of Forest Depths Village by the Wei clan. In the first week, the enemy became silent again and rarely even sent scouts to attack the village. Many thought this was a sign that the mercenaries and loyalists had abandoned the Wei or rebelled, effectively breaking the siege. This was quickly dashed as at the end of the first week a night raid was conducted on the southern gate.

Although not much damage was done it caused the already pressed Fan clan legion to double their defensive efforts putting the already exhausted warriors and observers further on edge. After, the rest of the month passed with the Wei clan forces constantly harassing the legion night and day so they had little time to rest. In the third week after the initial siege, the enemy made a bold move and attacked in force yet again.

This time Fan Zhong’s squad was stationed at the southern gate with two other such groups. Leading them was a first-grade warrior from the headquarters unit named Zi Lin. With the officer being a distant relative of Zi Bao the young warrior had paid his respects to the older man as both his uncle and a senior warrior. Everyone had just settled in for the morning guard shift when the cries went out from the wall that the enemy was attacking the western gate.

Fan Zhong shivered upon hearing this, part of him wanted to rush to the battlefield to aid his fellow warriors however, there was also a part that was simply happy to be away from the battle. Updates continued to arrive that the enemy had brought their remaining battering ram and how commander Fan Ping had once again taken to the field to disable the siege weapon.

After half an hour of fighting, it seemed that the battle was reaching its bloodiest as casualty reports came in. As a messenger arrived to deliver these numbers to Zi Lin the older warrior's face hardened and he stared over at the southern approach to the village. Cresting to the horizon was a formation of Wei clan forces at least 50 soldiers strong.

Leading this group was five elite Wei clan soldiers wearing resplendent emerald armor.

“Call the reserves, now junior!” Zi Lin shouted at the messenger as he took in the sight of the approaching enemy.

As the messenger ran off Fan Zhong got into position beside Su Fen and together the three battle squads formed a half-circled defensive line with their battle formations side by side.

“Nephew Bao, tell your father it was an honor to fight by your side. Fellow warriors, this old man leaves the hope of the clan to your younger generation. Hold fast and I’ll buy you what time I can against that monster.” Zi Lin said as he strode out from the defensive line while solemnly meeting the gaze of the head Wei clan elite.

Fan Zhong looked at the lead enemy and his heart leaped in his chest. He could feel waves of power coming from the man as he peered into the emerald eyes set into the sharp visage before him. With flowing gray hair and sharp facial features that resembled the edge of a sword, the warrior cut an imposing image. There was no doubt in Fan Zhong’s mind that this man was a master realm martial artist and that his death could come with a simple twist of the warrior's wrist.

As the enemy approached they stopped and the Wei leader sneered at Zi Lin before surprisingly giving the Fan clan officer a martial salute.

“ Today you have the honor of meeting Wei Xiangtian in battle. What do you want written on your tomb, brave warrior?” the leading warrior said with all the haughty arrogance one would expect of a Wei noble.

“Senior honors me with his name, this one is Zi Lin. Please instruct kindly senior” Zi Lin said through clenched teeth before surging forward with surprising speed.

Wei Xiangtian’s sneer turned into an amused smile as he seemed to blur before reappearing with his sword in hand already clashing with Zi Lin. Fan Zhong had little time to see the battle between the two as the enemies collided with them shortly after. In his mind Fan Zhong felt the familiar melody of his song of battle with the Fan clan crest emblazoned in the sky of his mind, shining proudly.

He fought with great care keeping himself balanced as all three forms of palm strikes wove together. Each attack landed spoke of the shifting sands, tall mountains, or endless heavens. Instead of seeing blood and death Fan Zhong focused on the art of his combat, the thing that had allowed him to give it life.

With each passing moment, he accumulated more wounds. A shifting palm knocked aside a spear and then he juggled the staff on his arm before using ‘Momentum of Shifting Earth’ to deflect a sword. From the left came a mace that numbed his shoulder as a flying dagger pierced the spear wielder. Pain throbbed in Fan Zhong’s mind as he pushed forward.

Soon he realized that his movements had allowed the enemy to get between him and Su Fen, luckily Mo Hui had slipped in to cover the senior warrior’s flank. Several times Fan Zhong tried to push through the melee to reach Su Fen’s side, however, a curved sword blocked him and drew blood each time. Finally, Fan Zhong turned and faced the one obstructing him and noticed it was one of the Wei clan elites.

He wielded a curved saber that seemed to sing with the wind. What surprised Fan Zhong was that this man was thin, willowy and someone almost as tall as himself. Although it wasn’t something he took too much pride in, Fan Zhong knew that few people were naturally as tall as him so when he spotted the auburn-haired man obstructing him this feature stood out. Examining his opponent in the heartbeat before they engaged, Fan Zhong saw a middle-aged man with ruthlessness in his eyes.

This was not a cruel ruthlessness, rather it was one that was accustomed to making hard decisions and bearing the weight of those decisions. When their weapons met and he saw the green tint in the other man's eyes, Fan Zhong understood that he was dealing with an experienced second-grade warrior. He met the first horizontal attack with a mortal shifting palm looking to move outside the Wei warrior's guard.

This was followed by the opponent stepping in and thrusting which triggered Fan Zhong to raise his offhand and attempt a mortal receiving palm. Surprise registered in the man’s eyes for a moment and the saber withdrew for only a fraction of a moment as it smoothly flowed into a reverse cut. A flurry of exchanges followed as Fan Zhong desperately used shifting and receiving palm techniques to fend off the whirlwind of saber attacks.

With expert precision, the saber would meet his staff in a bind and then flow around in either thrust, counter cuts, or occasionally kicks and punches. In the span of just four seconds, the two exchanged half a dozen blows. After just a minute of fighting the number of clashes numbered close to 80!

Fatigue threatened to catch up to Fan Zhong as blood flowed from multiple cuts on his person. Vaguely in the back of his mind, he heard a boom and saw the body of Zi Lin go flying past him but his mind was focused solely on his opponent. Shift, shift, shift, retreat, piercing origin, counter, shift, shift. The exchange happened in a blur as his opponent was starting to read him and his initial flurry of shifting palms was met with two binding thrusts and a feint into a reverse cut that left a blazing wound on his left side.

It seemed that his opponent was also feeling the wear of battle as the piercing palm connected with the man’s right shoulder and the grip on his weapon lessened. At this point, Fan Zhong had barely been able to gather any reasonable amount of momentum for his movement technique and there was little room to maneuver. Steeling himself he feinted a step inward towards his opponents outside while juggling his stuff in the widest spins possible, willing the movements of ‘Momentum of shifting earth’ to carry him.

With that momentum, he swung to the inside of the warrior’s guard as he approached before stopping just outside of measure and spinning while juggling his staff in a spin above his head. Beside his head, Fan Zhong could hear a whistle as the saber passed so close to him that the edge drew blood from the side of his head. Smiling like a madman he brought the staff down into a void gate stance and put all of the momentum into a piercing origin palm, sending the butt end of the staff at the opponent as a drilling lance of destruction.

Suddenly Fan Zhong saw the smile on the Wei warrior’s face and he realized with horror that the opponent had managed to get his saber into a guard and redirected the staff strike along the outside of the saber causing no damage. All of this happened in one swift instant in the time it took for a stone to fall from a table to the ground. Realization struck and time seemed to slow for Fan Zhong as the elite Wei clan warrior pushed his staff by using his off hand to brace the back of the weapon and swiftly brought the blade upward in a vertical cut to gut him.

Both of them were dumbfounded as simultaneously a long continuous explosion rang out only a few dozen meters from them. A shockwave of force interrupted the attack as a dust cloud rose where Wei Xiangtian and Zi Lin were fighting. Next, the Wei clan warrior revealed an expression of horror as a flying dagger flew forward past Fan Zhong’s left side and landed in his neck before Mo Hui seemed to blur beside the man to deliver another dagger to his gut.

Lastly, it was Mo Hui’s turn to be surprised as his face of triumph turned into one of pain as he looked down to see the off-hand of the Wei clan warrior hold a knife that was now shoved into his heart. Fan Zhong screamed and the Fan clan crest in his mind bled an ocean of blood as red filled his vision. When he came to, he could only hear sobs as he looked downward at red hands.

It took a long while but he realized the sobs were his, there in front of him was the torn and shredded body of the Wei clan Warrior. Lastly on his lap, beneath his blood-stained hands, was the corpse of Mo Hui. On that day Fan Zhong let loose a primal scream of rage so profound it would later be said that every member of the Wei clan in all of the heavens shivered in fear.