Chapter 6: Eldest Senior Brother

  What followed was nothing particurly hy.

  The Deputy Medie Envoy led everyoo a deep pool and valley behind Hanging Fate Manor, them to wash away the dust of their travels. Afterward, they were each gives of matg, dark-gray clothing.

  These outfits resembled those worn by the few special youths An Jing had noticed earlier, though these versions were simpler.

  came the process istering names.

  “An Jing, from Gu Feng ty in Xuanque Prefecture, Hanbei Dao, bone-age eleven…”

  “Xia Li, from Hanhai Prefecture in Hanhai Dao, bone-age twelve…”

  “Tang Yuan Ting, from Laifeng City in Liuguang Prefecture, Hanbei Dao, bone-age nine…”

  Standing at the front, head bowed, An Jing quietly memorized the voices that announced eaame and pce in, analyzing who came from where.

  Hanging Fate Manor had gathered mostly children and youths affected by the Frost Camity in nds north of the Hanhai region. The farthest out was a girl named Bai Qinghan, from Hannan Dao in the greater Hanhai region.

  Rather than the Frost Camity, she had apparently survived the “Demon Camity” of a decade before. She was born in that time of disaster, managing to survive all the way to now.

  Ohe roster was set, the total ood at two hundred forty-eight. The five individuals not recorded—those robed in bck whom An Jing had first noticed—had already been taken away.

  By the time registration ended, dusk was fast approag, and it was mealtime.

  The evening fare provided by Hanging Fate Manor was simple: a rge bowl of chestnut rice, and ane bowl of a peculiar bean paste thick with medial aromas, plus three ftbreads smeared with oil and salt.

  It i everyoe with relish. Ohe steward annouhey could begin, the entire dining hall fell silent save for the sound of eating.

  After all, these children had endured more than a year of hardship, gnawing on bark and roots to survive. Then they had jolted along in wagons for well over ten days to reach this mountain manor. They had nht to be picky about the ample portio before them.

  Besides, each person also received a small croeatball soup. Within the browhe, three white meatballs floated in an oily broth that glistened with specks of fat. The mere sight of it could stir anyone’s appetite. An Jing scooped oball into his mouth, sav that long-fotten taste of meat. Its slight springiness and salty freshness left him wanting more.

  Even An Jing, who typically mulled over things while eating, had no spare attention to think about anything else. He only came to his senses afterward, once a servant had shown him to his assigned lodging.

  —Clearly, Hanging Fate Manor was skilled at handling people’s hearts.

  Standing by his bamboo bed, An Jing gazed at the shadowed pavilions of Hanging Fate Manor uhe moonlight, lost in thought.

  To most of these purchased children, they had just been rescued from a disaster zone and healed of their ic ailments. They had traveled far from home, anxiously leaving behind all that was familiar.

  Now they found themselves in an isoted estate far removed from the world. This was the moment they were most vulnerable, in need of a supportive pilr.

  Hanging Fate Manor had them bathe and don fresh clothing, washing away their weariness, their panid fear. Giving them all matg outfits instilled a sense of shared identity.

  Finally, by calling the roster, they aowledged each child’s existehen strengthened everyone’s gratitude with ample rations—and even a serving of meat.

  Realizing this, An Jing could not help feeling impressed.

  “Thanks to my memories from a past life, and my naturally suspicious temperament, I still keep a clear head—even so, my impression of Hanging Fate Manor is actually quite good.”

  “After all, they really spent money on medie, gave food for human lives, and so far have not mistreated or tormented any of us youths. Our clothing and meals are impeccable… I see now.”

  He recalled that in stories from his childhood, he had never uood why “deathsworn” or “secret enforcers” in martial dramas were so loyal, even after years undercover.

  Now, he had a glimmer of insight—if Hanging Fate Manor tio nurture them in this manner until adulthood, every one of these youths would likely bee unwaveringly devoted to the manor.

  W in the shadows? Meaningless. Even if Hanging Fate Manor was some kind of cult, it would not undermihat sense of loyalty.

  They would regard all outside suspi or hostility toward Hanging Fate Manor as snder, believing from the bottom of their hearts that the manor was infallibly in the right.

  The greater the manor’s “evil” reputation beyond its walls, the more these young disciples—who felt ied to it—would reject such accusations. They would grow ever more resolute, f the true bae of Hanging Fate Manor.That was if Hanging Fate Manor was evil, mind you. If it were a righteous sect, then it would be all the easier to inspire devoted sacrifi the name of justice.

  “Hm…”

  Havien his fill, An Jing found little reason to pin. Reminisg about the fvor of that meatball soup, he muttered to himself:“Fine, if I’ve eaten your food, I’ll do the work.”

  Given his personality and that glimmer of knowledge from his “past life,” An Jing realized that it was likely impossible for him ever to pledge absolute loyalty to anyone.

  But if they paid him well enough…

  He could be a loyal retaioo!

  Hanging Fate Manregated the boys and girls, assigning each person an individual partition.

  It was nearly a rge on sleeping area, with bamboo walls dividing it into small partments.

  Ea was just big enough for a si and a little space to strete’s legs. Yet this cramped enviro actually reassured these disaster survivors. After so long sleeping in the wilds beh the open sky, they found security in a private, enclosed nook instead of being exposed to the elements.

  An Jing could not help thinking of “capsule hotels,” though he had no idea what that term meant. Images simply sprang to mind, giving him an inexplicable familiarity with those fn cepts.

  Such were his inborn memories. An Jing’s “past-life knowledge,” along with a mature way of thinking, had helped him survive tless perils.

  But for now, he would rest.

  Feeling boired, An Jing realized that rather than overanalyze how Hanging Fate Manor fostered loyal disciples, he might as well get more sleep and regain his strength.

  He y down on his cot, pulled a b over himself, and quickly fell into a deep slumber.

  During the days that followed, Hanging Fate Manor did nothing specific but let the two hundred-plus “Children of Camity” settle into a proper routine—rec their digestion and physical health, getting used to mountain life.

  They called themselves an a hidden lineage. Because their enviro was extremely harsh and they lived deep in the forests, they struggled to recruit normal disciples, so they purchased orphans and refugees who could endure such a life.

  It was a flimsy expnation. Had they offered it on the very first day—either in the refugee camp ht when the group arrived at the manor— the most gullible would have believed them.

  Yet by now, Hanging Fate Manor had already taken care of every need, allowing these youths to sleep safe and sound. They fed them rid meat, gave them fresh clothing, and never mistreated them as sves or inflicted whippings or beatings.

  With proof in hand, it hardly mattered what the manor cimed. These children would believe it.

  From An Jing’s perspective, Hanging Fate Manor was like a fully enclosed trainier.

  Each m, the manathered all the children, and the riders who had served as their escorts now took on roles as instructors—teag a simple health-building martial art. Iernoon, they taught the children to read and write, followed by a medical check.

  This martial art was far inferior to An Jing’s own family martial tradition, but it did strehe body. In truth, he had only studied the basic portion of his family’s martial cssic, so pig up ayle might prove beneficial.

  As for reading, they learned from a cssic text called The Imperial Heaven Scripture, which tained no brainwashing ideology. It advocated reverence for the emperor and Heaven’s Will, and rituals to honor Heaven. It was widely circuted across Great .

  After practig martial arts and reading, they received another meal in the evening. An Jing believed these meals were a form of medial cuisine. He could feel how, bined with suffit rest, the cos helped restore his body, melting away his fatigue. His skinny frame steadily grew more robust.

  For half a month, life tinued in this manner. Everyone’s spirit and vigor were pletely different from when they first arrived. Apart from An Jing, every child had already embraced their identity as a “disciple of Hanging Fate Manor.”

  Even An Jing started to find it a det pce.

  —Eat, sleep, practice martial arts, study… it ractically a young master’s life!

  For most, it was better than what they had at home before the Frost Camity. Naturally, they came tard the manor as their true “home.”

  Meanwhile, An Jing gradually became acquainted with the other youths.

  First, he had already studied martial arts and could read, and he was reized as having the highest aptitude among them. From time to time, the tutors or instructors would call him forward to demonstrate moves or recite passages of the scripture, then praise and reward him.

  Sed, his bearing really was striking.

  When they first arrived, nearly everyone had been reduced to skin-and-bones. It was hard to gauge anyone’s appearance or physique.

  Even then, An Jing’s demeanor stood out enough to silence doubts, leaving only a handful of maltents.

  As he regained his health, his inal appearance resurfaced.

  A product of nature’s blessing, bright and graceful in spirit—such was his natural mien. But having wandered for a year and shed the blood of evil men, even his smile carried an undercurrent of danger, like a clouded leopard of the forest, beautiful yet bloodthirsty.

  Even the Manor Master would excim that when An Jing simply stood somewhere, words were needless. All would unsciously look up to him.

  An Jing appeared outwardly grateful for Hanging Fate Manor’s arras, but inwardly, he analyzed them with a ind.

  He certainly reized these tactics as a low-cost way to win favor—elevating the child who performed the best and looked most impressive so that, by instinct, he would see himself as part of the manor, as the “Eldest Senior Brother.” That would strengthen his sense of belonging, and draw the other children around him to form a cohesive group.

  At the same time, it would motivate those who were “unwilling to accept defeat” to push themselves harder in hopes of surpassing him.

  An Jing did not derive pride from the bel, but it did attract others to him.

  However, whether they were drawn by the “Eldest Senior Brother” title or his looks… he holy had no idea.

  In any case, the children who shared his dormitory began clustering around him. Before he k, he really had bee their “big brother,” anizing them for mealtimes and leading them to the practice arena—like a true Eldest Senior Bruiding his juniors. It was easy to slip into a life of carefree pcy.

  But all of this was just the prelude.

  Hanging Fate Manor was, after all, a martial lihey would not allow ao simply freeload like pampered young masters.

  Soon enough, the grueling formal training arrived.

  (End of Chapter)