Sunlight peeked over the horizon as Xing Zheng opened his eyes. He sat atop the roof of the tiny home that had served as a shelter for him and his new companion for the night. The plain brown tiles of the roof angled toward the ground before ending at a sharp drop which his legs currently dangled off.

Down below the street was silent as Butont still slept the early morning hours away. Partway through the night, Xing Zheng had finished his half-sleep cycling pattern that had become so natural during his century in desolate lands. With the day still so young he’d decided to reach a higher vantage and scan the valley using divine sense to wait for Fan Zhong to rise.

It had been hours and his mental energy had stretched far and wide across these mortal lands only to find nothing. Inwardly he cursed, his master had always emphasized that a specialized divine sense technique was critical to any cultivator's arsenal. However, Xing Zheng had been stubborn about learning ancillary skills, preferring to hone his pure mastery and understanding of the sword and through it the world around him.

After constant reprimands about the subject, he had eventually acquiesced, and around five centuries ago Xing Zheng had taken a year to learn the basics of spells, arrays, formations, and refining. Surprisingly refining had been incredibly enjoyable and he had taken to it well, leading to his high proficiency in the craft today. Refining encompassed the ability of a cultivator to refine materials that had absorbed the energies of the world into usable treasures including weapons, armor, talismans, pills, and even array or formation plates.

Sword refining was his specialization, to no one’s surprise, however, weapon refining, in general, was something Xing Zheng took great interest in. However, This had once again narrowed his vision instead of broadening his horizons as Lin Qiu had hoped. Following this whenever he had been asked about progress in choosing a diving sense technique to practice Xing Zheng would simply wave the concern away saying that the precision allowed by his basic usage was more than capable.

Divine sense was thought by many mortals to allow one to directly see the area it was spread to as if one was looking at an area from a birds-eye view or many locations at once. However, this was actually a specific form of technique that used divine sense not the general usage of it. At its core, divine sense was highly compressed and potent mental energy.

As such its general usage allowed for a cultivator to detect the energies of the world, and what mental energy was actually doing when it was cast forth. With the increased power of divine sense, it simply upped the precision of what was seen allowing the user to get a far higher understanding of the structure of the area observed. Energy flowed through all things in heaven and earth as such if one could read the flow accurately enough it was akin to being able to see all things.

Although this was the case, mental energy was only able to see the mental energy of other creatures as it was far more pronounced than the ambient energy of the world. With divine sense being an order of magnitude more powerful the level of detail was enhanced enough to see the energy flow of the surroundings; however, it was still a hazy level of detail at best. With this Xing Zheng was able to get a general idea of the energy sources in the valley but not the specifics of any locations.

Sighing he retracted his energy, drawing in a deep breath as the disperse awareness of his mind refocused on the rooftop. As he did so his mind turned to the young man that he had decided to take as a charge so hastily. In truth, not even he understood why he had been so willing to make such an oath.

It was like a burning passion in his soul the size of an ember, a point that was so tiny it was barely noticeable but burned with such heat that it seemed to suffuse his very being. As that boy had attacked him with such fury and such sadness, that ember had been ignited. Seeing the look in his eyes had momentarily caused the sound of rain in his heart, the eternal droning that kept him calm at all times, to go silent.

For just a moment Xing Zheng had remembered the pride and passion of two smiling youths that wanted to be the heroes of old. Men who always arrived to save the day, who upheld values and oaths above all else. Perhaps it was that childish passion that had made him swear to Fan Zhong, or maybe it was guilt about leaving him in this valley on that day. Finally, his full awareness had been withdrawn and with that Xing Zheng exhaled a low and strong breath.

None of that mattered now, what would matter would be how well he lived up to those words. As the ever-present sound of rain subsumed his mind he sent out a safety net of alerting divine sense before setting into a rhythm of cycling his energy to wait for his charge.

Fan Zhong stood abruptly at the sign of the door opening, the slowness of sleep clouding his mind. In the motion to stand his enhanced mind worked in overdrive as deep inside his subconscious the idea of someone entering his home triggered only one response, to fight. By the time he was on his feet, Fan Zhong had drawn the brick from within his robe and slid into a ‘Voidgate’ stance, all signs of grogginess gone.

“Good, at least you’ve been trained to respond correctly. What would you like for breakfast? I personally prefer simple fruits and some grilled meat. However, that is the fare of the short mountain region. Do the northern plains kingdoms have similar morning meals?” The older man's voice was casual as it sounded over the impact of the door closing.

At that moment Fan Zhong realized that the old swordsman wasn’t standing at the door. During the time he had taken to stand Xing Zheng had opened the door, moved to his small corner kitchen while taking a few objects out of a bag, and lit the small heating array under the grill. All around him the smell of cooking meat started to fill the air and Little White, who was curled in a tight ring around where he had been laying, stood in a hurry, rushing towards the smell with tongue-wagging glee.

“Calm down, there's plenty for everyone. The cooking will be done soon however, it is for me and Junior Fan Zhong. However, this old man didn’t forget Sir White. This should be more to your tastes, right?” Saying this Xing Zheng slapped the bag that hung from a small thin rope belt at his side.

As he did this the small brown cloth bag’s top opened to a size larger than the opening had originally seemed. A whole boar carcass, freshly skinned and cleaned for butchering came out of the bag going straight up into the air before seeming to be grabbed by an invisible hand that gently guided it to the ground halfway between the door and the corner kitchen. Eyes filled with bewilderment, Little White stared at the corpse for just a moment before barking happily and pouncing on the meal.

“When you get to my age sometimes fancy takes you and sleep is elusive. It just so happens that the nice man three streets west of here runs a great butcher shop! He was going to take all morning to prepare the boar, however, I told him it was unnecessary.” While he spoke Xing Zheng’s hands never stopped moving and every now and then his bag would vibrate causing a new object to exit or enter it.

Soon the smell of exotic spice met the air and before Fan Zhong could gather his wits the older man arrived in front of him with a table and some stools, placing the final seat down as three plates descended from above. All things said and done in just a few moments Xing Zheng sat across from him at a table covered in three dish plates. Atop each plate to the sides of the table were ornately spread slices of various fruits that formed patterns of alternating gold, azure, and bright red.

At the center of the table sat the largest dish which consist of thin slices of meat, seemingly beef, chicken, and something he couldn't identify, lightly seared with a cup of dark black sauce placed on either side of the platter for each of them to use. In the older man's hands was a plain fork and a much smaller plate sat directly in front of him. Likewise, the same utensil and small personal plate sat on Fan Zhong’s side of the table.

Adorning all of the cutlery and plates were the stylized crest of the Xing Empire set upon a pure white jade backdrop.

“Senior, is this really a casual breakfast or a formal bouquet to preclude a lecture on court etiquette?” Fan Zhong smiled with some wryness and a bit of apprehension on his face as he sat down.

“Bah! These are just a few things this old man has gathered over the years. This very set of plates once served the Xing Emperor! A very well-loved emperor…” Xing Zheng’s thoughts seemed to turn somber as he spoke, a great sadness seemed to suffuse the atmosphere.

“I see, were you close?” Fan Zhong felt he understood some of what the older man was thinking, it must be akin to the sadness that lie in his only heart, only perhaps somewhat dimmed by decades of life.

“Close would be… simultaneously a good way to describe our relationship and an incredibly inaccurate one as well.” The old swordsman’s laugh seemed to contain little humor as he chuckled for just a moment before continuing. “I’m surprised you don’t know. It seems that this valley is truly removed from the dealings of the empire, refreshing really.”

With these words Xing Zheng casually took a few pieces of the meat and piled them on his plate, pausing to eat one during the process.

“Know? Why would I know about your relation to one of the Xing Emperors?” Fan Zhong’s brows furrowed as he spoke, trying to recall what he knew of the emperor.

In all of his life, the only news that had come of any of the men who ruled the vast empire behind the baroness was the day the previous emperor had died. Other than that he was struggling to think of any details that may link Xing Zheng to the emperor other than them being from the same clan. Although the man looked only slightly older than him he was an immortal, this meant he could be anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand years old!

“Hmm, it makes no difference I suppose. Xing Hai, the champion of the people and the ‘Flashing Void Sword’. The previous Xing Emperor who was so beloved that the sword of the empire’s crest was changed from gray to black in honor of him. He was my sworn brother and the previous owner of this set of finery.” Xing Zheng seemed to step into the past as his eyes became hazy as if he was recalled to a distant place.

This revelation startled Fan Zhong however, it didn’t truly shake him. In truth, he had never known much about Xing Hai, much less that the man had been a champion of the people. It would be accurate to say that he knew more about Xing Zheng than the previous emperor.

“Senior, apologies, however, the reach of the empire is limited in this remote region. My knowledge of your late brother is limited to knowing that he died in a duel some years back. Until now I had no idea he was even well-liked, much less so loved by the masses.” Fan Zhong spoke after a few moments, breaking the older man from his thoughts.

“Oh? It's normally the only thing I get asked about, well at least until a year or so ago. In any case, you should know the reason that my name has spread. Xing Hai fell by my blade.” A sharpness entered his eyes as he spoke and met Fan Zhong’s gaze “If this will be a problem let me know now. Know that it was by his choice and that I’d prefer not to speak of it if possible. Honestly, if it were any other time this topic would remain off the table. However, as of this moment, I am under oath and any bad air needs to be cleared.”

Xing Zheng’s tone brooked no question, it was clear that the issue was sensitive to him, however, a resolute passion burned in the depths of his gaze giving off the aura of honesty and righteousness. Looking at him Fan Zhong only nodded slightly, picking up one of the pieces of meat and stacking it on his plate as he spoke.

“No problem at all, Senior Zheng. Your business is your own. Besides, we all have things we’d rather stay buried in the past” As he spoke his voice quieted, barely whispering by the end.

With another nod, Xing Zheng remained silent and the two took to eating with gusto, eager to set about their business and bring their minds to other things.

“Nephew Zhong, it's good to see you!” Fan Shun said as he strolled out of the door at the new Fan clan compound.

It had taken around two hours for Xing Zheng and Fan Zhong to make their way across Butont. Little White had offered to allow him to ride; however, Fan Zhong had insisted on walking the whole way. All the while the old swordsman had remained quiet not even saying anything when he moved without using a movement technique. Like this, they had arrived in front of the humble five two-story buildings that were arranged in a u-shaped formation.

Adorning the buildings were various banners and trimmings with alternating gold or azure coloring. In the normal style of valley architecture, the roofs were slanted with flat tiles that would push water off and into the streets below. The buildings that made up the sides of the compound housed only around twice the ground space of Fan Zhong’s home.

The main building formed the entire top of the formation of buildings and was three times the width of the others with the same depth. Upon the large double doors that led into the main building were highly stylized versions of the Fan clan crest above an image that depicted a battle. In this battle, a single Fan clan cultivator stood on a platform above a group of swordsmen that seemed to glide on shifting winds.

At the top of the battle scene, the sky seemed to be descending with a crescent-shaped wave. It was a depiction of the battle that had taken place the day the Fan clan fell as well as the tragedy that had occurred afterward. Fan Zhong had asked that no such thing be made but after much insistence from the remaining clan members, he and others had been able to cobble together enough details to have an artist make the image.

Of course, the image wasn’t accurate to what had happened, no one living had been close enough to see that detail. This was only a distorted version of the events, the best they could come up with. Seeing the image caused a surge of emotions to burst through Fan Zhong’s thoughts, all of the things he wished to suppress pushed against the boundaries of his mind.

Even the sound of Fan Shun’s voice or the surprised expressions of him and Fan Yong running from the base of the door down the pathway was drowned away. At that moment he felt a small touch on his shoulder and turning around Fan Zhong saw Xing Zheng nodding with a soft gentle smile. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and then breathed out slowly.

As he gazed once more upon the world, color and sound seemed to have returned. Standing in front of him, amid the plain courtyard that the Fan clan compound surrounded stood his two remaining closest family members. Behind them, a pair of two-tiered fountains was the only thing that adorned the bare courtyard, one to either side of the path midway through.

“It’s good you’ve returned. When Nephew Yong last reported to me it seemed the chances were slim however, it seems the light has finally returned to both you and the clan!” Fan Shun’s voice seemed to noticeably energize and hope suffused his weary-looking visage.

Looking at the man Fan Zhong could notice the bone-deep weariness that had sunken into him. There were visible marks, yes, a scar here and there; however, what truly gave this away was the way Fan Shun held himself. What was once a proud man who carried himself strongly, as if the weight of mountains couldn’t force him to kneel, now had a slightly sunken appearance to his stance.

The subtle way his feet rested, the position of his hands and arms, the alertness of his eyes, all of this and more filtered through Fan Zhong’s enhanced mental energy rapidly leading him to one conclusion. Fan Shun was being drawn thin as the steward of the Fan clan and the duty was taking its toll. During his years spent under the surviving clan members' care Fan Zhong had gotten to partially understand what was wearing at the man

Running a martial clan was a tiring industry, one had to keep up appearances, manage finances and deal with other martial clans. The weak were in a constant state of larger clans threatening to swallow them up, either through economic suppression or by force. In the years after the destruction of the clan ancestral ground business for guard and mercenary service had expanded exponentially to deal with the bandits that had multiplied in the valley. However, this only intensified the competition of those looking to absorb weak clans to strengthen themselves.

“It's good to see you, Senior Shun.” Fan Zhong bowed as he spoke, his voice remaining calm after a great deal of effort. “It seems that I’ve been blinded by my own selfishness. Please accept this apology.”

Saying this he knelt on the ground and bowed his head to the floor, just as he had so many years ago to his father.

“Young Master you don-” A female voice from a group of approaching clan members sounded out but was cut off.

“No, this is needed. I beg you, sons and daughters of the Fan clan, accept the apologies of this blind fool.” Fan Zhong’s voice trembled as he spoke, struggling emotions burned in his heart like a raging fire.

Soon many of the present Fan clan members had gathered around the commotion in the courtyard. Some looked at him with gazes of pity, others with contempt. The most common expression, however, was that of apathy.

Many of them were in the same state as Fan Zhong, having died inside the day most of the clan was destroyed. They were simply living out their lives like shells being animated by instructions, no real willingness to go on existed within them. Within that apathy was an understanding and hope, a hope that perhaps this young man could revive that which had been lost.

After a long moment of silence Fan Zhong stood and met Fan Shun’s gaze.

“Senior Shun, at present this one is not qualified to lead the clan. I ask that you continue protecting that which remains of the clan, while I gain the right to do so. This senior has offered to mentor and watch over me as we travel through the valley, both to hone my skills and give him a tour of the local sights. Once this is done I hope that my strength meets the clan's approval” Fan Zhong finished his words with a final bow before looking to Fan Shun for approval.

“Nephew Zhong…” Fan Shun returned his gaze, seeing the conflicting emotions in Fan Zhong’s eyes “I understand. However, if this man is to accompany you then I will personally test him. Senior, may I have your name?”

“Very good, had you not at least asked this much I’d be worried about the Fan clan in the meantime. It seems that with your leadership there's nothing to fear. This old man is known as Zhang Zheng ‘the worldly sword sage’. How about this, we’ll exchange strikes. My style relies on nine swords that form arrays to execute various sword techniques, during this exchange I’ll only use three swords. In this way, you can be assured that Junior Zhong is in good hands.” Xing Zheng spoke smoothly as he walked to Fan Zhong’s side in the middle of the walkway.

Nodding his assent Fan Shun positioned himself before the other swordsman and positioned his sheathed blade into the strange ceremonial position his style used. As this happened the bystanders, including Fan Zhong and Fan Yong, moved to the sides of the walkway to make room for the exchange. Fan Zhong stayed level with Xing Zheng not approaching his clan members while the remaining Fan clan bystanders backed away to either side so that none of them were further down the path towards the bamboo hat-wearing swordsman than Fan Shun.

“One more thing, senior. I can never trust a man who doesn’t show his face. Would you please remove your hat before we continue?” Fan Shun’s tone was level as he quirked an eyebrow in question.

“Hmph, if you want to remove this hat then do it with your sword, junior.” Xing Zheng chuckled slightly as his armed blurred and three magical treasure swords appeared in front of him before forming a slowly rotating loose circular formation

Each of the blades was vibrant gray steel with three simple runes etched on the front of them. The pommel of each sword pointed straight to the sky as the points were directed at the ground as the formation floated with the hilts at eye level. Oddly the blades didn’t have crossguards and the hilts were inlaid with the image of a white dragon.

Other than this the length of each weapon was only slightly longer than a meter and gave off a slight vibration to the air. Immediately Fan Shun took this as a sign to attack and he disappeared surging into motion. This caused the ground to crack and a shockwave to spread outward through the air. Fan Zhong could barely see the afterimage of five blurring images striking at Xing Zheng from different angles.

As they approached the five afterimages distorted, making their exact angle of attack unclear as the actual strikes split into over 15 different variations. Some of these were real attacks and others felt different, almost insubstantial. Even Fan Zhong could detect the difference however, he could only pick out a single afterimage as an illusion.

Palm strikes and drawing sword slashes were intermixed with draw thrusts and sheath strikes to make a dizzying array of attacks. As this happened the runes on Xing Zheng’s sword array lit up and his swords each spun in a lazy circle, trailing phantoms left behind in their aftermath. By the time Fan Shun’s attacks split off into a multitude of different attacks the array had generated three circular wheels of sword phantoms and as the immortal swordsman was about to be struck the phantoms flowed from the wheels like water in a river.

Each counter was perfect and textbook, like something from a martial arts manual only more dynamic. Although the sword strikes moved at a blurring speed it was noticeably slower and more relaxed than the assault of Fan Shun as if every phantom was already moving on a predestined course to counter its opposite.

Where hard strikes hit multiple Qi phantoms intercepted and redirected the strike, never meeting the attack's head-on and instead parrying them in such a way that the phantoms pushed outward to strike while at the same time using part of their force to defend. As Fan Shun came to a halt, dozens of small slits appeared on his robe and blood flowed from the wounds as the air rippled around the cuts. The robe was made from natural treasures and could have taken a strike that would destroy the wall of one of the buildings within this courtyard before tearing.

Now that same robe had been cleanly cut, not too deep or shallow, just enough to leave grazing blows.

“Senior Zhang Zheng… it seems I've underestimated you. However, I thought we were going to exchange blows. Was this not my chance to attack?” Fan Shun turned and leveled a wry smile at the older swordsman.

“Indeed, exchange blows. There is nothing to say that a clash of weapons isn’t an exchange, Junior Fan Shun. Consider this a free lesson from this old man” Xing Zheng returned his look with a mischievous smile on his lips.

“I see, junior thanks senior for the instruction” Fan Shun bowed low to the other man, giving him a martial salute before continuing. “I have one more thing to ask if you’d be willing to hear me out, Senior?”

“I have time, what can I do for you?” Xing Zheng’s expression remained calm as he took the swords from the air in a blur, seemingly stuffing them into the inside of his martial robe.

“Since you’ll be accompanying Nephew Zhong I wonder if Nephew Yong journeying with you would be an issue? The two are terribly close and if the clan is to prosper the younger generation needs mentoring, it would be my honor if senior could provide what wisdom he can spare to both of them” Fan Shun bowed once more as he requested this, knowing that it was well within the other man’s right to refuse.

“Senior, tha-” Fan Yong started to speak from behind Fan Shun, obviously surprised to hear the request.

“Hmmm, that’s fine I suppose. To be clear, Junior Zhong has made it apparent that he has no desire to be my disciple. As such my instruction to them will be minor insights here and there while allowing them to experience instructions from the various teachers of the valley. After hearing this, if you're willing I have no objections.” Xing Zheng replied in a sagely tone, allowing the brim of his hat to lift up just the slightest so that Fan Shun could see his face.

“Your-” Fan Shun was noticeably startled and confusion crossed his face as the air seemed to hum the barest amount.

As this happened, Xing Zheng removed his hat, tucking it under his arm as a jovial smile crossed his face that now bore no signs of his signature scar.

“Indeed, I’m an old man who has far too much time on my hands.” the old swordsman chuckled lightly as he spoke.

“Seniors! I have important business here in the clan. How can you just say I’ll leave on such short notice!” Fan Yong’s face was full of bewilderment, it was as if the two older men were talking about him like he wasn’t present!

“Yes, just like good old times, the low fort has kept watch for the high tower which is rising once more.” A voice came from Fan Shun’s side and he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder revealing that Fan Zhong had slowly made his way to his best friend's side.

“There's… no way out of this is there?” Fan shun said dejectedly.

“Nope,” Fan Zhong said, smiling as he shook his head.

“Will there at least be a pleasure hall where we’re going?” Fan Yong replied, hope surging in his eyes

“Well…” Fan Zhong considered the matter for a moment before speaking “Senior Zheng, where do you wish to head first.”

“Hmmm? Oh, I’ve heard there is a sword sect on this side of the valley known as the ‘Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect’. That seems like a good place to start.” Xing Zheng replied before returning to conversing with Fan Shun, the two seemed to be discussing sword techniques.

“Well, there you have it, nope.” Fan Zhong’s smile returned and he bowed in his trademark overly dramatic way to emphasize his words to Fan Yong.

“Come Nephews, it's been a while since everyone has been home and Senior Zhang Zheng is visiting. Tonight we will hold a feast to commemorate the start of your new journey!” Fan Shun smiled and motioned for them all to follow inside the main hall.

In short order, the group made their way into the main hall, and orders were sent out. In the end, the group drank, ate, and partied until deep into the night. The next morning Fan Zhong, Fan Yong, Xing Zheng, and Little White all set out for the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect.