(Day 140 Continued)

  Jin Fan relayed his plan over breakfast in the Dining Hall.

  “Chen Rulan has been vigilant about the afternoon training since the incident. Before this, he was happy to leave us alone with Chen Weidao for sword practice. Not anymore. And he hasn’t been giving Neng any opportunities to beat on people. So, that’s half the session we don’t need to worry about.”

  “Why can’t we get rid of Weidao?” Shutian complained. “If that asshole was out of the picture, none of this would be a problem. Elder Rulan’s always been in charge of our martial arts instruction. He was good enough to handle our sword training for the past five years and then, all of a sudden, he’s letting Elder Weidao butt in.”

  “Master Zhi says this is the way it was always supposed to be. But Weidao didn’t want to

  waste his time teaching us the basics.” Nanxi clarified.

  Jin Fan put an end to the speculation and returned to the plan. “It doesn’t matter. Chen Weidao will be in charge for at least an hour, and you can bet he’ll give us several rounds of sparring. He seems to love the situation.”

  “Asshole.” Shutian whispered.

  “When the sparring begins, we get close to Neng. Surround him. Every time he looks for a new partner, there we are. Pass him back and forth between us. Keep him away from the vulnerable people.”

  Suddenly, Pengfei had a flash of insight. He looked to Nanxi and Shutian. “It’s just like when you guys were protecting me from Hongyu and Daoping!”

  “Yeah, but the opposite. Keeping him penned up instead of protecting him.” Nanxi observed. “So, your big plan is to fight him? Why don’t we just tie him up in the middle of the night and knock some sense into him?”

  “If we play it right, he won’t even realize what we’re doing. He’ll think they’re normal matches. I figure we can just present ourselves as willing opponents. We can challenge him formally if we need to, but then it will be obvious what we’re up to.”

  “Formal or not, you don’t think he’s going to try and beat the crap out of you guys? You might have misjudged things.” Shutian grumbled.

  “He’s been going hardest on the weakest swordsmen. No offense.” Fan nodded in concession to Shutian’s injuries, and the injured Xiaotong who was absent. “He’s been treating the higher-level people like normal training partners. So, I think we’ll be okay. Except for you, Pengfei. You should stay out of it.”

  He winced at the frank appraisal of his swordsmanship, but Pengfei couldn’t deny it.

  --I’ve come a long way, but I’m still lagging when it comes to the jian… the argument I got into with Neng last time we trained makes more sense now. It was part of the same pattern.--

  Pengfei recalled the strange confrontation when his friend had snapped at him, judged him a slacker. The conflict had started with Pengfei’s lackluster sword skills. But he voiced his determination to be involved regardless.

  “No, I want in. I don’t think he’ll go after me. And I want the chance to talk to him.”

  Fan looked to Nanxi, who grudgingly nodded his approval.

  “Fine. But don’t give the rest of us away. If he figures out what we’re doing, it could turn ugly.”

  With their strategy decided, the boys finished up their breakfast and headed together to the Discipline Hall. Chen Ji must have sensed something. Maybe it was because of the interaction with Pengfei and Shutian from the previous day, or perhaps it was because the different cliques arrived as one cohesive group for a change, but the old man seemed to discern something in their attitudes.

  Instead of drilling them in qinggong or twisting their bodies in painful grappling techniques, the elder spent his time with the seven disciples lecturing on the responsibilities of the Discipline Hall. He focused on the example that they must set for the other members of the sect. Instructed them to be beyond reproach in all things.

  That dominated the entire morning. Pengfei’s thoughts on his obligations didn’t quite line up with the ideas Chen Ji was extolling.

  --Just, forthright, merciful… it all sounds like a pain. Like it would just get in the way. Isn’t it enough to make sure we don’t kill each other? That seems to be hard enough.--

  Once again he struggled with the difficulty of his situation. The angst he felt at what his friend Neng was doing to the most vulnerable members of the sect. A desire to see the abuse end competed with a reluctance to confront a friend. And the fear of his secrets being divulged if he made a misstep.

  His eyes glassed over and his subconscious roamed as the elder spoke. The next meal provided a short reprieve from the diatribes and moral conflict. The disciples drifted apart again during lunch, and Chen Ji seemed less paranoid in the afternoon, but still ordered the boys to meditate on the need for compassion and forgiveness in the pursuit of justice.

  But soon they were due to head towards the training grounds. The elder had to release his charges. He sent them off with another reminder.

  “All of you… I want you to remember something. The Discipline Hall is not about revenge. We must be…” Chen Ji rubbed his temple tiredly, struggling for the words. His eloquence ran dry. “Just don’t fuck things up.”

  They gave the man a respectful bow as they left.

  Disciples from all across the sect were converging on the courtyard in the center of the compound, leaving their various jobs under the elders who supervised them. Coming to practice their martial arts with their peers. The boys from the Discipline Hall pulled tighter to each other, not allowing themselves to be separated as they marched to action.

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  Jin Fan reiterated their plan.

  “Stay close during the hand-to-hand training. Once Chen Weidao takes over and we start with the jian, surround him. Keep him away from the easy targets. And don’t be obvious about it.”

  They all nodded along and Nanxi gave some additional instructions to Pengfei.

  “If things start getting heated, fall back and help Shutian keep the weaklings away.”

  “I will.”

  He appreciated his friend’s concern. Clearly, Nanxi was worried the elders would find out about Pengfei’s fight to the death with Guoyu.

  --He probably sounds like a mother hen to the others. I guess I could tell them I shot some guy in the chest and watched him bleed to death. Then everything would make sense.--

  He chuckled nervously at the thought and stepped onto the raised stones of the practice yard. One hundred and fifty-one teenagers assembled, and Chen Rulan was there, ready to take charge. Pengfei caught his instructor’s eye for a brief moment as the man noticed the group from the Discipline Hall. He squinted suspiciously at them but said nothing, and continued surveying the crowd.

  Pengfei and his comrades did the same, searching for Neng.

  “He’s over that way.” Zaifeng said, discreetly pointing towards one of the corners of the yard.

  They took turns checking, peering through the throng of bodies. Neng was limbering up, pulling an arm across his chest like it was just another training session.

  “Alright. Spread out a bit. But stay in earshot.” Jin Fan directed.

  They dispersed and organized themselves into neat rows with the rest of the disciples when Chen Rulan began practice.

  “Forms today!” The master called.

  They began the choreography of the ‘Heaven Shaking Fist’. The first form, basic stances and strikes. The second, with its more practical combat applications and footwork. Sweat was rolling down their faces in sheets be the time they began the third form, which taught the style’s methods of utilizing the qi.

  For a few minutes, Pengfei could forget his worries and take pleasure in the martial arts. He had not neglected the styles of Kunlun, even after he had begun learning Shaolin’s methods from Chen Rulan. Perhaps he hadn’t given the jian the time it deserved, but he had no problem finding time to practice the ‘Heaven Shaking Fist’ or the ‘Kunlun Wishful Hand.’

  “Haah!” Pengfei shouted, sending a punch forward, the energy flowing down his arm. It moved swiftly, fiercely. He sensed the same from every direction as the Jin disciples executed the strike in unison.

  The afternoon was creeping on, but Elder Rulan did not relinquish his command of the students. He moved from forms, to solo drills, then partner drills as the sun fell lower in the sky. Eventually, Chen Weidao stepped forward and spoke into the man’s ear. Rulan said nothing but eventually stepped aside with a reluctant look.

  “Take up your jians and find a partner.” Weidao announced. “Sparring.”

  Pengfei and the others moved to pick up their wooden swords from the weapon racks. With their tools in hand, they made their way through the masses, following hot on the heels of Neng. They discreetly fanned out, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible when they surrounded the boy.

  Neng was looking about for a training partner when he saw Pengfei. The two nodded awkwardly at each other.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey. How have you been?” Pengfei asked, making stiff conversation.

  “Fine. You?”

  “Good. I haven’t seen you since I got back from the valley. Even went by your dorm last night but your bunkmates sent me off.”

  “Yeah… I’ve needed some time to myself lately.”

  “BEGIN!” Chen Weidao shouted.

  Neng’s demeanor changed when he raised his guard. The abashed look on his face disappeared and there was only the steady gaze of a swordsman left behind.

  Pengfei gave a few probing thrusts, recovered quickly after each failed lunge. He managed to avoid the counterattacks that came or deflected them with the flat of the blade. The exchanges were quick and technical, but not overly violent.

  --No time to be subtle.--

  Pengfei spoke in short words between heavy breaths and sword strokes. “I saw what you did to Shutian. To Xiaotong.”

  Neng paused for a moment, began to speak, but then closed his mouth and continued the fight with a short slash.

  Pengfei pulled back. “What are you doing Neng?”

  “Training.”

  Neng gave a quick step, ducked back from Pengfei’s reactionary slash, and came in with a hard thump to the upper arm.

  “You’re torturing our brothers.” Pengfei accused.

  “They’ve been my brothers a lot longer than they’ve been yours.”

  “Then why are you –!?“

  “I’m helping them!”

  The point of the jian found Pengfei’s gut, biting deeply into the flesh. He winced at the pain and backed away while rubbing his skin. Neng continued to speak.

  “You think a few bumps and bruises are torture? What happens in a few years when we leave these mountains and meet the killers from the Unorthodox sects? Our rivals from Kongtong? Were the black-robed men who came for you so kind?!”

  Pengfei’s took a sharp, nervous breath. He had to stop himself from begging Neng to keep quiet. Around the pair, the other boys from the Discipline Hall were watching. Nanxi was motioning at Pengfei, depressing his hands in a silent plea to calm things down.

  “You’re beating up your friends over a hypothetical danger?”

  “Master Weidao says it’s only a matter of time.”

  Neng feinted for the wrist then went for the face with short chopping strikes, but Pengfei slipped by them, collided with his opponent, and pushed him away forcefully.

  “Weidao? Is he putting you up to this? Did he tell you to hurt your training partners?”

  “He says the only training that matters is the training that hurts.”

  “And how much training is Xiaotong getting done now? He can’t even get out of bed!”

  Pengfei slashed now, not out of anger but in a play for time. Being passive would only give Neng more opportunity to attack, and as the boy argued he was becoming more and more forceful with his blows.

  Neng fended of Pengfe’s sword strokes, then responded with his own. He ended on a flurry that made contact several times, slapping forearm and torso in vital places. Painful, but not injurious.

  “Time! Find a new partner!” Chen Weidao called, ending the match.

  The two disciples glared at each other angrily. Pengfei could feel the watchful eyes of his friends, ready to move in if necessary and spoil all attempts at subterfuge. Neng turned away first and found an eager partner.

  “Brother, please train with me.” Jin Fan said with a quick martial salute.

  --He’s a good actor.-- Pengfei thought as he drifted away.

  He breathed quickly, tense. Made his way to Shutian on the outskirts of the little formation that surrounded Neng.

  “Did you hear all that about Weidao?” Pengfei asked quietly.

  “Yeah, I heard it. We’ll have to deal with it later though. Now, stay on the outside and keep an eye out for possible targets.”

  Shutian moved back into the crowd, choosing a partner carefully and Pengfei did the same. He gave the minimum of attention to his next opponent when the next round began. The majority of his focus was devoted elsewhere.

  To his credit, Neng did not take any anger out on Fan. They went back and forth in swift exchanges, their swords clattered against each other in rapid attack and defense. Pengfei knew that Neng was skillful fighter but was surprised to see that Fan was a worthy opponent. Or nearly.

  The subsequent rounds against Zaifeng, Yusheng, and Wai, were more one-sided. Pengfei circled around the bouts, anxiously watching each from the corner of his eye. But none of the boys from the Discipline Hall were injured.

  Nanxi was the last of their cohort to ask for a match. Pengfei was unsure whether their encounter would go smoothly.

  --He has to know Nanxi is angry…--

  When Nanxi had come out of his stupor in the bunkhouse and seen Xiaotong, his face had taken on a stony resolve that was so unlike his normally cheerful countenance. But to all appearances, the opponent in front of Neng now was that same merry prankster.

  The illusion didn’t last long though.

  “Begin!” Weidao shouted for all to hear.

  Nanxi moved while the elder’s voice was still ringing in their ears, and then it was the shouts of the two combatants that were echoing off the nearby buildings.

  They were so quick that Pengfei would have thought they were using qinggong, but Elder Weidao had not given permission to use internal energy. It was just the mundane power of the bodies.

  The wooden jians curved and shuttled through air at a speed that tested the eye’s ability to see. Neng’s straightforward style, the ‘Swift Dragon Lightning Sword’, chased the evasive and acrobatic ‘Silent and Scentless Sword Stroke’ employed by Nanxi.

  Pengfei had given up any pretense of training with his partner and co-conspirator, Jin Wai. They both watched with growing apprehension as the intensity of the bout increased.

  --Calm down Nanxi!--

  Soon, other pairs paused their matches to watch the dramatic confrontation.

  In the last few seconds, the swordfight devolved into something more brutal. The swords came together in a bind. Nanxi slipped his foot behind Neng’s ankle, shoved him backward and sent him stumbling. A kick whizzed by Neng’s nose, missing, but infuriating the boy.

  More forceful slashes. Neng came forward in full force, swinging his blade frantically back and forth and putting the other on the defensive.

  There was a loud snapping sound, like a dry branch, as Nanxi’s training sword broke in the middle. He ducked underneath another attack, rolling through in an undignified by pragmatic evasion. He stood to face his opponent again just as Chen Weidao called an end to the match.

  Nanxi threw the scrap of wood in his hand at Neng’s feet with a smile and said something that got lost in the murmur of the spectators.

  Neng glowered, then looked abruptly somewhere else, like he had heard someone call his name. Pengfei followed his gaze and found Chen Weidao.

  --Are the elder’s lips moving?--

  There was no way that the master and student could be having a conversation over such a distance, but Neng nodded curtly as if he had taken an order. He spun slowly, stopping to fix each of the boys from the Discipline Hall with an unmistakable recognition.

  --Shit. Looks like the game is up.—

  Neng turned to Pengfei last. An icy stare, unburdened by any sentiment or friendship, sent a chill down his spine. But the gaze passed over him a moment later to look behind.

  Pengfei turned and found himself backed into a corner with only one other disciple.

  Neng was staring directly at Jin Daoping. One of the boys who had presented Pengfei with one of the vultures that had feasted on his friend Ma Feng’s corpse.