Chapter 255

Chapter 255

The day began no different from any other since arriving at the Bridge. Waking with the rising sun, Dastan sought Insight and Enlightenment from the Forms, a habit hed picked up during their journey north. Every day, without fail, no matter how tired or busy they were, the boss and his cadre of elite Khishigs rarely missed an opportunity to perform this oft neglected traditional exercise, even at the expense of sleep. With such dedication, it was no wonder the mountain tribesmen produced warriors of such high calibre like Gerel or Tursinai.

Hard work wasnt the sole reason for the Bekhais prowess. Long ago, the Empire came to a consensus and deemed it a waste of time to go through every movement of every Form. Though all Martial practitioners studied the Forms, few practised them in their entirety. It made sense; The eight Forms consisted of five-hundred and thirty one movements, with each movement containing countless variations resulting in literally infinite number of possibilities. Only a child would think to master it all at once, their eyes larger than their stomachs. The common consensus was to focus on one Form at a time, or even take it a step further and focus on a handful of movements. Better to have a high comprehension in one Form than a low comprehension of eight Forms, right?

The Bekhai seemed to think differently, and having seen their prowess on the battlefield, who was Dastan to say otherwise? Perhaps this was the not-so-secret secret to the Bekhai strength, the answer staring the Empire in the face right from the start. The Forms were passed down by the Mother, so how could they dare neglect Her teachings? Hed forgotten how strenuous Demonstrating the Forms could be, muscles aching and lungs burning within minutes when he first started, but over the past few weeks, his body had regained a fraction of the strength lost after being cleansed of the Fathers Taint. Though there was a long ways away from reaching the same levels of explosive strength or prodigious stamina, bit by bit, Dastan felt himself returning to his former glory, perhaps even on track to surpass it.

Though it was yet another unconventional training method, he was certain this was the correct path. How could the Mothers Chosen Son lead him astray?

Cutting his training short, Dastan washed up and joined his family for breakfast around the campfire. Greeting him with a bowl of rice porridge and a plate of steamed buns, Mother clicked her tongue and said, You work too hard my darling son. Look at you, so thin and pale, youve lost so much weight these past weeks. Eat, eat.

Leave him be, wife. Father chided her softly, handing Dastan a large bowl of braised beef while he himself ate plain porridge and buns. Our son works hard to repay our benefactor yet you ask him to shirk his duties? Though the words sounded harsh, Fathers actions dulled the impact, looking out for his son however he could. Grateful to still have them in his life, Dastan smiled and accepted the gesture, sneaking pieces of beef to his three younger siblings to augment their lacklustre meals. None of them were warriors like him, instead following in their fathers footsteps to become merchants and bookkeepers, their poor martial talents sparing them from the traitorous XiaoGongs attentions and subsequently, a life of slavery.

Though camp life was a far cry from their previous life of luxury, no one from Sanshu dared to voice their complaints. The boss himself lived in a tent, so who were they to ask for more? He treated them well, making sure there were no more than two people to a tent and plenty of blankets for all, and even gifting each family with spices and meat for their meals, an extravagance few peasants or slaves could hope to taste. In fact, the boss treated his slaves no differently from his people, and for this, Dastan would be eternally grateful.

Finishing his meal with haste, Dastan gulped down a cup of tea and said, No need to cook meals for me, we begin training today. Dont know when Ill be back.

Nodding, Father stood up and opened his arms, pulling Dastan into an embrace. Taken aback by the outright expression of affection, he tensed up and missed his opportunity to return the gesture before Father stepped away and said, Well be gone by the time you return. Weve arranged everything with Mister Rustram. Turns out our benefactor dabbles in trade, selling cosmetics and herbal concoctions to Shen Huo. Mister Rustrams fathers company handles everything and is currently expanding, so were leaving with a convoy headed to the city in an hour's time. Hesitating, Father stared at his feet, abashed and ashamed. Im sorry, son. Our family is in this situation because of decisions I, Danikov Zhandos have made. Youre now a slave because I tucked my head into my shell and hid from the truth, ignoring my suspicions instead of investigating them. Perhaps if Id been a braver man, a more decisive man, we wouldnt be in this mess.

Father...

I speak and you listen, this is the way of the world. You might be a warrior but Ill still take a switch to your behind if the mood strikes me. His smile spoiled the gruff act, Father looking more tired and vulnerable than ever. Our benefactor is a good man, a great man even, but he is a warrior first and foremost. I cannot stand by his side nor do I have clever ideas and contraptions to offer like my brother. Trade and numbers are all I know and even then I am lacking in many ways, so I must work hard to make up for my failings.

Straightening up with pride, Father regained some vitality. We are denigrated and disparaged because our ancestors were conquered in millennia past, but our Zhandos family has prided ourselves on our heritage instead of ignoring it as so many others do. Thus, to uphold the honour of our name, our familys debt falls largely upon your shoulders. Youve already sacrificed so much for us and it shames me to ask more of you, but I must. Train hard and serve our benefactor well, for only then do we have a hope of repaying him in this life. Gesturing for Dastan to leave, his father turned away and added, Ive not done much worthy of praise, but Ive raised my children well. Take care and visit when you can, my son.

Yes father. With a heavy heart, Dastan said farewell to his family, wondering when hed ever see them again. Ever since becoming a Martial Practitioner, hed long since readied himself to part from his family. It was only natural as they tread down different paths. Without meditation and training, his younger brothers and sister would be lucky to live a life of eighty years, succumbing to the rigours of time while his body remained hale and healthy well into his hundredth year, only declining close to the end.

Assuming he survived that long.

Still, after almost losing his family in Sanshu, Dastan was reluctant to part with them, but he had no choice in the matter. Father had made his decision and Dastan would respect it. Now that he was a slave, it would fall on his brothers to carry on the family name. Regardless, it was safer for them in Shen Huo, doing what they knew best in more familiar circumstances. At least Uncle Diyako would still be here at the Bridge, and though Dastan held a slaves status, he served a divine purpose at the side of the Mothers Chosen Son. In time, the world would come to know of Falling Rain and his holy duty, his name resounding through history for millennia to come.

The boss never ordered them to continue running, though he taunted them incessantly. Is that all the warriors of Sanshu have to offer? He asked, his hateful sneer filled with disdain. My nephew runs faster than the lot of you, how pitiful. Barely even panting, hed run back and forth along the line, laughing at the stragglers until anger overcame reason. You want to be soldiers? Prove youre worth the investment. Know why youre running? Because quins are worth more than you are. Given a choice, I'd make you carry them up this mountain, not the other way around.

Despite all his barbs and derision, the boss let no one fall behind, dragging collapsed trainees until they stood back up, bloody and bruised. Almost five hours after they began, they finally reached their destination at the mountain-top training camp. Ignoring his ardent desire to collapse into the dirt and weep, Dastan cooled down with a slow walk around the camp and surveyed the area. The flat plateau boasted various half-built structures and devices, the work of the missing sub-bosses Ravil and Bulat. Far from impressive, there was a single wall in the middle of the field, a series of logs standing upright and half-buried, dirt ramps and tunnels with a scattering of rocks of various sizes, and a multitude of other odd structures he couldnt begin to fathom. Draining his water skin, he finally felt like a person again after a hot meal and a half-hour of rest, watching as the boss supervised the unloading of the carts.

Okay, the boss said, clapping once for attention. Your performance today was utter shit. A disgrace and waste of my time. Five hours is too long, the day is short. Tomorrow, anyone who takes longer than four hours will be joining the labour force. At the end of the month, three hours. In two months, the time limits drops to two hours.

Resisting the urge to groan, Dastan asked, We arent staying here for the night? Running up and down the mountain every day was inhumane, even without further training, but the boss seemed eager to move on.

Nope. Train high, live low, well be making this journey every day. Taking a deep breath, the boss asked, You smell that? Fresh mountain air. Invigorating, isnt it? Its thinner up here, makes it better for training. Come now, time's wasting and we have lots to do.

Desperate to buy more time to rest, Dastan asked, How so?

Furrowing his brow, the boss thought about it, seeming not to know the answer himself. Er... its like this. When you inhale, your lungs take in what your body needs and exhales what it doesnt. The thin mountain air means theres less of what you need in every breath, forcing your body to work in sub-optimal conditions. If you can draw out your full potential in this poor environment, then once you return to the flat-lands, youll be like a tiger given wings. Got it?

Before Dastan could ask another question, Gerel appeared from the shadows and uttered, Enough wasting time. Move on. The bald, amber-eyed warrior glowered without frowning, his neutral expression still somehow conveying displeasure and disapproval.

Unperturbed, the boss nodded. Now, this training camp is for all you new recruits, but Ill be splitting you into two groups. Ulfsaar and Dastan, youre group one and youll be with Gerel today. Dastan cursed his poor luck as the boss continued. Jorani and Chey, youre with me. Jorani, Tursinai tells me youre eager to learn Healing and Im happy to hear it. I pray you retain your enthusiasm after today. Pulling out a small, metal tool, he spun it around his finger with a smile. After wracking his brain, Dastan recognized the item as a dentists tool, used to extract rotten or dead teeth. Why was the boss carrying that around?

Putting it out of mind, Dastan followed Gerel to another plateau where several Bekhai elites stood waiting. Without any preamble, the dour warrior gestured at the practice weapons. You lot lucked out today. Arm yourselves and line up, he said, cracking a humourless smile. No point talking until weve seen what youre made of.

Though hed rather train with the boss, Dastan grudgingly admitted that Gerel was a skilled warrior. Though hed been defeated by Yo Ling in an instant, at least he survived the encounter, which was more than most could say. The bald warrior defeated his opponents with ease and his critique was on point. With a dull battle-axe in hand, Dastan acclimated to its weight with a series of drills while eagerly awaiting his turn, studying the other instructors as they picked their opponents at random. How many were on the same level as Tursinai and Tenjin? How many crouching tigers and hidden dragons were concealed among these mountains? He was eager to test his mettle against these elites, hoping to-

An inhuman shriek echoed through the mountains and Dastan turned towards the source, ready to dash out to defend the boss, but Gerel barked, Stand your ground. Its fine, thats just Rain teaching his people. Chuckling, the bald warrior shook his head while effortlessly holding off Ulfsaars furious attack, his utter disregard infuriating the one time bandit chieftain. I told you all didnt I? Youre the lucky ones, so thank Jorani for volunteering to be first. A few aches and bruises is all youll suffer, while the others... Well, youll find out soon enough.

Swallowing his fear and trying to control his trembling body as the chorus of shrieks continued, Dastan prayed to the Mother for all the strength and courage she could spare.

It only seemed fair. Hed need all he could muster and more to survive Her Chosen Sons training.

Chapter Meme