Fan Zhong felt the world freeze as a palpable killing intent spread forth from Xing Zheng. Fear clashed with fury as the words of the guardsmen played throughout his mind. Memories came to him unbidden, moments of pain and sorrow.

The smell of blood seemed to permeate his senses as the ghostly image of the ruins of Little Green Bamboo Village seemed to slowly superimpose over the world. In that crater, past the remains of his brother, bodies lay strewn everywhere. To his left was Elder Wuying who had once scolded him so harshly but had always seen the good he could do. On the right Fan Shun’s corpse was stuck in a moment of eternal agony as he lay upon the cold husk of Su Fen.

Further along was Mo Hui, his expression of pain apparent even though all wisps of life had left him. He spotted his mother and father silent in their last stand of heroism among the legion of Wei Clan dogs. Next to them were Fan Ping and the other officers of the legion corps, forever locked in the fierceness of their final charge at Forest Depths Village. Along it went, friends and family, strangers and acquaintances.

It felt as if that trail of corpses told the story of his life until this moment. Underneath was not the soil that should have been there, instead, numerous skulls formed the ground that he stood upon. Discordant notes pushed into Fan Zhong’s mind like daggers bleeding his soul. Each stab of pain brought him back to the here and now, the present that moved ever forward.

These memories were reminders of what had built the foundations for him to make it this far. The fury that welled up in him was the anger of a child, one that he could no longer afford to be. Each and every action that he took would create an effect, had already done so in fact.

Now all that remained was to tread further, to step upon the sacrifices laid at his feet so that what was already done could be given meaning. As if grasping his weapon Fan Zhong willed his mental energy in his mind's eye to grasp his fury and sadness in a great palm. With a savage smirk cresting his face, he crushed those feelings as a veil of numbness settled over everything.

Walking forward he laid a hand on the immortal’s shoulder.

“Teacher, let me please.” Fan Zhong’s voice carried an eerie calm and gentleness, one that felt otherworldly coming from him.

The killing intent that had pressed down upon those gathered at the gate seemed to lessen slightly as the pressure slightly increased upon Fan Zhong under Xing Zheng’s attention. Ever so slightly the old swordsman had turned his head and barely raised it so that Fan Zhong could see the small quirking of an eyebrow in question under the brim of his ever-present bamboo hat.

No one spoke and the bustle of the port kept a deathly silence around them as that single moment seemed to stretch on for minutes. Slowly Fan Zhong felt the presence of stronger martial artists taking notice of the commotion and beginning to approach. Two men with spears were walking down a staircase from what was presumably the entrance to the gatehouse the off-duty guards and officers stayed in.

Noticing this he nodded once more to the older man by his side and walked forward, leveling a sickly sweet smile at the guardsmen who had been speaking. Looking at him it was easy to see that he was a Second-grade martial artist just from the aura of mental energy the Wang clansmen exuded. The man was dressed in a simple set of mortal natural treasure armor overtop a simple martial arts robe that bore the symbol of the Wang clan.

He stood about a head and a half shorter than Fan Zhong and held his spear with some trepidation along with hints of arrogance. A sneer was plastered on his face as Fan Zhong approached, an obvious sign the guardsmen had never learned any sensing techniques. Murmurs could be heard from the surrounding crowd as those gathered around noticed him step away from Xing Zheng and Fan Yong.

“It seems you’ve heard of me, sir, yet the same is not true here. May I have your name?” Fan Zhong’s voice was filled with all the confidence and calm he could muster as he leveled an assessing gaze at the man.

“C… Cao Tai, honorable warrior of the Wang clan.” The guardsmen were hesitant for a moment as he met gazes with Fan Zhong before he seemed to regain some of his backbone after announcing his clan allegiance.

“Young master Zhong, all of this…” a man wearing an officer’s medal whose mental energy was veiled began to speak as he started to approach the two of them.

“Of course, of course. All a misunderstanding, right, Brother Tai?” Fan Zhong’s tone took on the sickly sweet sound he had often heard the old swordsman use after either he or Fan Yong complained about training.

As he did so his feet never stopped moving, taking him a few steps closer to the guardsmen. For his part, Cao Tai looked slightly pale and conflicted as Fan Zhong walked to the side of his spear’s point.

By the time they were within two steps of each other, easily within striking distance for any trained martial artist, the guardsman managed to nod his head slightly.

“Good, good, good! You know, that reminds me, do you have a brother named Cao Fu?” Fan Zhong quirked an eyebrow up in question as his voice took on an inquisitive tone.

“Ye… yes, well I did. Died before the ceasefire six years ago.” Cao Tai seemed to regain some of his fury at that point as his gaze turned to daggers while his stance became more aggressive.

“Warrior Cao Tai! Stop this insta...” The officer was closer now and he began shouting, attempting to resolve the escalating situation.

Gasps could be heard around the shuffling port as people stopped what they were doing to observe the event. Nearby the other guardsmen gave warry looks to Xing Zheng as they shifted their grips on their weapons. Most of the experienced ones could see that Fan Zhong was a First-grade martial artist as he wasn’t attempting to veil himself.

They would at least be able to handle him if things came to blows. However, the old swordsman was a different matter. No one could see the depths of his power and although he registered as a Master realm martial artist at the moment most could tell from his burst of killing intent that was likely a facade. Rampaging Grandmasters were something that few places were fit to deal with in the Flowing Grassy Valley.

No doubt Wang Clan Ancestral Village would have ways to do so however, that didn’t mean it was something they wished for. As such the eyes of most of the powerful warriors were focused on Xing Zheng as Fan Zhong spoke to the guardsmen.

“No need for that officer, Brother Tai and I are having a simple conversation. Now, where were we? Ahhh yes, your brother. I remember, we met at the Battle of Forest Depths, he arrived with the relief forces!” Fan Zhong’s smile turned wolfish as he spoke and inched ever closer to the man “My condolences for your loss of course. However, it might be good that he isn’t here.”

At his last words, a fire of pure fury seemed to light in the man’s eyes, building to a bonfire of anger. All of that was too late, however, as Fan Zhong’s mental energy had long ago been brought to the forefront. Faster than his middling Second-grade opponent could react he fell into a void gate stance with smooth practice.

Wind seemed to swirl in a vortex as it formed a soft breeze from his pulled-back right hand to the palm of his left. With his battle song inwardly blaring the world slowed to a crawl as the beat of war drums synced up with the rhythm of the world. Vaguely Fan Zhong could feel the instant that Xing Zheng’s pressure lessened on him as it pressed down on the other Master-realm warriors present, preventing them from knocking him out faster than he could blink.

Only a small part of his mind was left to register that however, as the rest of his focus pressed down on his opponent's midsection slightly above the belly button. A booming shockwave spread out as a string of discordant notes rang in Fan Zhong’s mind. His palm launched forward and twisted in accordance with those notes, ripping dominion of the moment away from the world for himself.

A light force seemed to gather on his hand as he rotated it as if his staff were in hand for an Origin Piercing palm. The technique originally designed for use with a weapon seemed to become one with him as the strike landed true. That light force seemed to pierce into his opponent almost as if it was Qi imbued into an attack.

Fan Zhong could feel it spiral slightly, pushing further into the man’s dormant dantian like a drill. It took only a second for him to realize that this was palm force, the type of energy normally only produced by energy-enhanced palm techniques from those in the Master-realm. As that realization hit him the palm force drilled deeply into Cao Tai’s body before dispersing along his energy channels, likely sending wracking pain throughout his body.

Noticing that his twisting hand was still amplifying that force Fan Zhong quickly pulled his hand back, outright killing wasn’t the plan here. Instantly afterward the guardsman started to double over as he also began sinking to his knees. Fan Zhong pressed against him to hold the man up to whisper a few final words in his ear.

“It's good that Brother Fu wasn’t here to see how much of a disgrace you are. Next time, remember who you're speaking to.” His tone carried a venom laced with killing intent and bottled-up fury.

With that he let the guardsman drop, ramming a knee into his face as he fell before taking a step back.

“There we go, as I said, just a talk between friends.” At this point, his voice had lost all humor and contained a hint of anger and command. “Of course, this chance encounter between old friends is done and we can be on our way, right officer?”

All of the other guardsmen looked as if they had just spit up a mouthful of blood at the comment and several brandished their spears in his direction. What surprised them was the officer motioning for them all to back down as he leveled an appraising gaze at Fan Zhong.

“That seems to be the case Young Master Fan, I assume Cao Tai’s friendly sparring injuries are fine?” The officer’s voice carried a hint of threat as he rested the haft of his spear across his shoulders.

Along with those words, the master-realm officer pressed down on Fan Zhong with a light wave of Qi that almost brought him to his knees. Of course, that was only natural, neither of them had taken the situation too far and the man saved face in front of his men. Clan politics, the kind of thing his tutors had spent most of his childhood trying to teach Fan Zhong.

Inwardly he chuckled, for so many years he had avoided such things. As a child he had greatly admired the stories of heroes disdaining such base scheming and politicking, resolving things through righteous strength! However, Fan Zhong was neither strong enough to do such things nor lacking in responsibility enough to ignore those lessons! After all of this was over Xing Zheng would leave to go back to his sect and Fan Zhong would be left to lead his clan. It was past time for him to start acting like someone fit to do just that.

“Indeed, I, Fan Zhong, am not such a person to permanently injure a friend during a spar!” His tone feigned hurt as he put a hand to his heart for dramatic effect working.

“Hmph, go about your business then. Trouble enough these days without us fighting each other, respectfully of course Young Master.” The officer’s voice was rough as he spoke, seeming to carry acceptance along with a hint of arrogance.

In short order he got the rest of the guard to allow them to pass and soon the group was making their way into the village.

Walking through the streets of the village was an odd experience for Fan Zhong. In so many ways it reminded him of his own home now forever lost to him. From the bustle of martial artists and mortals alike to the quaintness that the inhabitants seemed to emit when interacting with one another. The smell of the river permeated the air along with the heavy scent of all kinds of seafood that was being sold.

In the areas closest to the port many small ramshackle stalls were put together selling all kinds of treasures the clan had hauled from the river. Short hut-like buildings stood to the sides of the roads with open-air second floors that often had hanging lines for catch and clothes. Dark blue colors coated the buildings along with vibrant yellows accented trimmings. The architecture was similar to other riverside villages Fan Zhong had been to however, it carried its own unique flair with the open spaces and minimalist design.

Soon that faded though and although the colors stayed the same the buildings became more packed and multi-leveled. Three-story buildings stacked next to each other became common as they traveled and the village started to resemble those he was more familiar with. Although, the open-air lines and spaces atop the roofs gave way to catwalks and small tent-like structures. It seemed that even when using more familiar designs the Wang clan still enjoyed their free and open spaces.

As they continued making their way to Wang Qiang’s estate, more accurately his father’s estate, Fan Zhong had to ask for directions from the guards more than once. Doing so he couldn’t help but observe the others around them as time passed. People talked, played, laughed, and cried. All simply living their lives, struggling to make ends meet in a world that so often ripped those small joys away from them. Within all of this, it was easy to see how the prolonged conflict within the valley had shaken them.

Children who would normally run rampantly around the streets shivered and shied away when others walked close to them. Criers who shouted advertisements for the goods of street stalls had voices with hints of hollowness and lost hope. On the surface the residents were trying to keep up a facade of normality however, all of this along with countless other small hints spoke to the brimming tension.

Of course, there were also the looks he was getting. Many backed away from him or simply turned away when their group approached. More than one time a guardsman had looked as if he was going to spit in his face rather than help them navigate to their destination. Certainly, there were those who didn’t seem to know him at all and perhaps they were even larger in number than those who sneered; however, for some reason, he could never seem to remember those encounters.

Some of the veteran warriors who saw him had offered their condolences and even been rather ashamed of their kinsmen’s actions. Unfortunately, those were far too few and by the time they finally arrived at the humble abode of his friend Fan Zhong’s irritation was almost at the limit of what he could contain. Taking a deep breath he centered himself and looked over the estate they were approaching.

Surrounding the buildings was a wall that looked to be about 10 meters high that ran around the estates in a rectangular arrangement. From all directions, it blocked any view of the ground floor save for a simple-looking walkway that could be glimpsed from between the slits of the front gate. Two guards stood astride the entryway that measured about half as high as the wall and wide enough for five men to walk astride through it.

Higher up one could see a main building that seemed to have three floors, assuming the first level was the same as the others, with a balcony that ringed the second. Sparse windows trimmed in silvery metal adorned the third floor. Peaking over the top of the wall one could barely make out the roofs of two lower buildings to the left and right of the main building spaced about 30 meters away from it.

“Excuse me, brothers. I am Fan Zhong here to see my dear friend Brother Qiang, does he happen to be home at the moment?” Fan Zhong put on the most cheerful expression he could manage and spoke while approaching the guards.

“Yes, the young master told us of your arrival. Please follow me.” The guard to the right responded with a nod while the other man barely seemed to notice their arrival.

Fan Yong seemed to eye the non-responsive guard with a disgruntled expression while Xing Zheng’s expression was unreadable, lost under the brim of his hat. In short order, they were ushered into the floor of the main building which turned out to be a lobby furnished with ample pieces of exquisite art and furniture. The guardsmen led them into a side room on the left-hand side of the lobby which contained a simple sitting table at which a short wiry youth was seated.

He had dirty blonde hair that was cut so close it almost seemed as if he was bald. Although he was sitting it was easy to see he had a rather frail build as the dark blue martial arts robe the young man wore seemed like clouds clinging to his form. A set of spectacles with runes etched about the frame sat on his face as he peered at a document spread on the table while tracing a line on the page with his finger.

For his part, Wang Qiang seemed so engrossed in his work that he hadn’t noticed the arrival of the party. Seeing him, Fan Zhong couldn’t help but have a wide smile across his face as his previous irritation seemed to wash away. Fan Yong was even more unrestrained and he whooped for joy as he bounced into the room before wrapping his arms around the man.

“Brother Qiang! Oh, it's been far too long. Come on now, is this how you treat your long-lost brothers?!” Fan Yong shouted as he lifted the other youth off his feet while his voice boomed throughout the room.

“In… Indeed, Brother Yong… coul… yo… stop…” Wang Qiang’s voice was rather strained and it took Fan Yong a moment to realize he was crushing the wiry merchant.

“Ahem…” Fan Yong’s ears turned red as he sat his friend down, patting him on the shoulder in some attempt to placate him. “Yes, yes, a good reunion for us all.”

“Careful Brother Qiang, the wide fort is awake. I hope you have enough wine to placate him!” Fan Zhong said as he approached the table along with Xing Zheng. “Let me introduce my teacher, Zhang Zheng ‘The Worldly Sword Sage’. I hope we weren’t interrupting anything important.”

Wang Qiang seemed to be taken aback by that response and it took him a moment to give a slight bow to Xing Zheng as he continued to stare at Fan Zhong.

“Not all, Brother Zhong, just some reports about recent trades, nothing of concern. However, it seems we have some catching up to do. Since when do you care about interrupting my work?” Wang Qiang’s tone seemed to carry some startlement before shifting to a more jovial one as a smile spread across his lips.

“Indeed, I imagine we have many tales to trade. Particularly why your clansmen seem to have such a poor opinion of me.” Fan Zhong’s expression turned wry as he tried to keep the bitterness from his voice.

At those words, almost all the color seemed to drain from his friend’s face as he and Fan Yong both took their seats. Fan Zhong and Xing Zheng did the same, waiting a moment as their host motioned for the guard to have a servant grab them refreshments. As soon as they were alone and the door to the side room was closed Wang Qiang spoke.

“Yes, there has been some growing… discontent. The clan watchers did their best to investigate however, our accounts of what happened that day in Little Green Bamboo Village are lacking, to say the least. Add onto that your… period of grieving leaving the Fan clan without a true leader and many have started to voice concerns that your actions were distasteful, to say the least. Try to understand, without the strongest force constraining the bandits and Wei in the southern part of the valley we have lost more and more footholds as the years have gone on. No few clansmen have died even with the tentative ceasefire still in effect”

The young merchant seemed to deflate even further as he spoke and he took a small pause to sigh before continuing.

“If you wish for accounts of… that day. Then I am more than happy to give them personally, to you or the Wang clan watchers.” Fan Zhong’s voice took on an edge as he met the eyes of his friend, taking a deep breath after speaking.

“There is no need for that, Brother Zhong. I read your personal report as soon as the information brokers from Butont distributed it. Honestly, you had just as little information as we did regarding what transpired with the exception of speaking to the sword immortal. However, others are unconvinced…”

Wang Qiang’s brow furrowed as he seemed irritated for Fan Zhong as well before his expression softened slightly.

“In any case, it's no case for you to be treated like this, please accept my humblest apologies. Please forgive them, Brother Zhong, sometimes fear overrules that which one can plainly be seen with one’s own eyes much less that which cannot be.”

As he finished Wang Qiang pushed himself back from the table slightly to bow low to the ground to him.

“Hmph, that's enough junior. Keep acting like that and this lousy disciple’s head will explode.” Xing Zheng cut in with a snort in his tone of voice Fan Zhong had taken to calling the grumpy sage mentally. “Now, I heard that you’ve been having some mysterious issues of late. Well, you are in luck, this old man is enjoying your valley and upon a humble request from my disciple I’ve come to lend you some aid. Well? Out with it.”

“Blegh, stop it, old geezer! We just got here” Fan Zhong spoke slightly before sticking his tongue out at Xing Zheng

Fan Yong broke out in an uproar of laughter as Wang Qiang simply stared in bafflement at the sudden change in mood. Soon a wolfish smile crossed the old swordsman's lips as the air blurred in Fan Zhong’s direction before he seemed to go limp and fall to the side. Like this laughter and win were shared as the group took time to make some small talk, temporarily forgetting about the worries at large as they stole this moment from the world for themselves.