Chapter 48- Blowing on a Cooling Ember

West Town was a small place, but a good one. The streets were as clean as he remembered. The buildings were well maintained. The gutters that would soon be guiding away the torrential rains were kept clean. The rain would come, battering roofs and gathering on the streets. Then it would, by dint of gravity and careful design, slide off the roads and into the channels that would lead it out of town and safely deposit it in the nearby streams. From there, it would wash into the irrigation systems, then the paddies, and finally be soaked away by the hungry earth.

The autumn rains were dangerous and precious in equal measure. Locals prayed to the rain dragon for just enough water at just the right times, and since that existence was high up and far away, they offered sacrifices to the Land God that looked after their town, and incense to the ancestors who were, even now, doing their best for their descendants.

Descendants who were already blessed beyond measure. Other towns had to worry about all manner of disasters. Not West Town. They had a Temple and a Convent full of immortal cultivators. Disasters, natural or otherwise, could scram. Though you didn’t see the Immortals around much. These last few years, you hardly saw them at all.

Tian walked over to the temple. He looked at its high, whitewashed walls for a long minute, then sighed and pulled on his uniform robes and put his hair in a bun. He didn’t feel like explaining his rebellion to his brothers, especially since most of them would be the wounded who were sent home. He bowed to the Brother guarding the gate, and silently made his return. He wasn’t sure what, or who, he wanted to see. It just felt important to be here. Finishing the cycle.

“Nine Changes Restoration Sword, thrusts rigidly, parries softly. By commanding the interior, all external matters are quieted under the blade. Yin and yang, the five elements, eight directions and sixteen trigrams are all to be found within it. But it starts with you. It starts with a thought, then a breath. The immortal is born, vital energy refined. Upon the concentration of vital energy, internal qi is born. From qi, all things grow, flow, and flourish.”

The voice was steady and quiet, but utterly commanding. Tian walked down a path between the shaded porches he could navigate with his eyes closed, following the voice to a practice yard.

“I have said so much so that you understand- if you want to cultivate the sword, you have to cultivate your vital energy. So stop bouncing around like an idiot, sit down, and get meditating.”

“But it’s so boring!” The voice was young. Piping. Whiny.

“It is boring. Repeating the same thrust one thousand times a day is boring. The same chop, parry, footwork, a thousand times a day, every day, for a hundred years, is boring. But the most dreadful thing of all is that once you commit to it, you come to love it. When you can no longer practice, you feel a terrible emptiness. Sit. Now.”

Tian walked around the corner of a hall and onto the martial practice yards and he was ten once again, learning from his senior brothers how to fight and how to run. How to hit and take a hit, and when you shouldn’t do either. Learning how to be a good person. He blinked away the memories and looked for the familiar voice. Then blinked again.

Brother Tang had gone with him on his first mission out of the sect. Tian had hunted down two frog demons, overgrown animals really. He remembered Brother Tang as an almost silent, stoic swordsman. He felt a little cold, to the young Tian. He still helped Tian fix his monk costume. Still showed him how to stroll. Took all the care and attention a senior brother should for their junior.

He had never been very close to Brother Tang. He saw him around the temple, but the swordsman preferred to live silently, a solitary existence amongst the noise and camaraderie. Tian never forgot him, though. Brother Tang had fought the Heretics inside the kingdom. He had been rushed back to brother Wong for treatment, covered with curses and boils and burns, more dead than alive. Tian had done his best to assist, though it was little enough.

He had last seen Brother Tang in a wheelchair, near paralyzed, watching the brothers and sisters march out of West Town and board the Summer Torrent. Off to war. Tian couldn’t put words to what he saw in the swordsman’s face.

The years had been moderately kind to Brother Tang. He was still in the wheelchair, but his arms worked, and his eyes were as sharp as ever. Some of the edge had worn away. Perhaps it was because he was teaching the boy in front of him. The swordsman looked as stoic as ever, but Tian thought he saw some fondness in the look.

Tian bowed deeply. “Senior Brother Tang, it is good to see you again.”

The swordsman looked at him blankly for a moment, then cupped his fist and gave a small bow in reply.

“Junior Tian, I didn’t recognize you. The years have been kind to you.”

“Hah. I wonder.” Tian chuckled awkwardly.

“Really. You were a rather… plain child… when you left for the Redstone Wastes.” Brother Tang’s mouth twitched. “Meet your new junior, Xiao Ming. Xiao Ming, this is your Senior Brother Tian Zihao.”

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“It is nice to meet you, junior. I’m happy, if a little surprised, that a new brother was found so soon after me.” There was a ten year gap between Tian and the senior recruited before him.

“Your case was unusual, Junior. Four years is a pretty normal gap.”

Tian shook his head and smiled. “I don’t have anything good to give you as a meeting gift, Junior Xiao, but if I could invite you and Senior Tang for some tea, my tea service is a little special. You might gain something from it.”