Chapter 8, in which the hero learns a lot of new and interesting things, but does not feel happy about it (Patreon)

Chapter 8, in which the hero learns a lot of new and interesting things, but does not feel happy about it

* * *

Han had no idea what had changed, but the next morning, when his father had left, his master put him through a new pile of torture called "training." But if before the tortures were mainly bodily, now they moved to the mental plane. The reason for this seemed to be Han's remark that he had quoted his own saying about the brush and Star Steel with a slight puff out of his chest, complaining that the rogue master didn't appreciate Han's most important gift, his Heaven-given talent for calligraphy. Had he been able to foresee the future, he would have followed his own saying, choosing the gold of silence over the silver of words. If he had access to the palace kitchen, he would not have said anything but rather chewed on something tasty!

Maybe the mean master somehow heard the complaint, or maybe he just acted following his evil nature. But the result was that the place of training was the library, and the weapons were a wretched cheap brush and the most common inksticks.

Han stared in horror at the mountain of books and scrolls the master was laying out on the nearest shelving unit.

"This is your enemy, my brave tadpole!" laughed the master, noticing the look in his eyes. "Raze him with your brush! If you get it all done before evening, then you will have dinner. If you get it done before noon, then you'll have meat for supper."

"But where is the chair, Master?" Han asked.

"What do you need a chair for when you have a dabu stance?" The master grinned and walked away, leaving him alone with the scrolls and a pile of grayish rice paper that could only be used to write orders to the servants.

As it turned out, even a favorite pastime could be a torment. Han did his best, at first meticulously rendering each character, but he quickly realized that not only would he get no meat, but he would go to bed hungry if he went to bed at all. He sped up his movements - this led to blunders, so Han waited to be punished. The master, however, did not say anything but remarked that if Han stopped holding his qi again while writing, he would have to learn to write with broken hands.

Han was accustomed to taking such warnings seriously, for his master always kept such promises. He began to hold his qi back, running it through his body, even though it distracted him from writing.

That night, he went to bed late and was left without supper. The next day was a bad repetition of the previous day. Han resumed his unnecessary and thankless work, writing and writing until the characters danced before his eyes. There were illustrations among the texts - he tried to redraw them too, but it was too time-consuming, so Han decided to skip them. It was a mistake; his master only ordered him to "redraw" and burned the scroll in his palm.

Several painful and monotonous days passed. Han's handwriting had lost all flamboyance, but it became more rapid than ever before. Even though Han never got any meat, he was able to eat dinner and go to bed for the first time. And then Han decided to cheat.

He channeled the qi into the brush, helping the tip move faster and faster. He no longer perceived the text he was rewriting but merely followed the lines on the paper. He channeled qi into his eyes as well - even though he didn't need to see the invisible, the text of the scrolls he was rewriting became clear and crisp. Finally, Han caught himself that his hands were moving on their own and that the strokes on the paper were flawless and precise. He did not even notice that he had unconsciously, though not perfectly, repeated the illustration, a schematic representation of some strange beast with two tails and a powerful, toothy jaw thrust forward.

The days went by, the magic chicken breast for dinner loomed before his eyes, and Han's hands became a kind of printing press that his father was so fond of praising. And then a servant appeared, announcing that a new issue of the Hero's Almanac had arrived with a fresh crystal.

Han's hands ached, his qi burning his meridians, his eyes watering and burning from the strain. He couldn't even pick up the Almanac right away; the wide, flat, lacquered box had fallen to the ground, and Han didn't even care if the crystal was broken or if the pages were mixed up. He headed for the training area, where he caught sight of the rascal and Mei.

Han was eager to watch the crystal with her but even more eager to just collapse and lie there, doing nothing and thinking about nothing. And chicken breast. Better tasty meat, of course, but even chicken breast was good.

"An almanac and a crystal," he explained, noticing the questioning looks, and shook the box in his hand.

Mei's face brightened, and the master frowned contemptuously:

"Only one who lacks his own feats will revel in the feats of others!"

Han, whose life was now a feat of endless battle with the greatest villain in the world, was, of course, not in agreement with such foolishness. But he answered anyway:

"Yes, Master."

This evening, having finished the scrolls but still no meat, Han opened the casket. Without reading the Almanac, he put it aside and took out a crystal from a special recess. This issue continued the adventures of one of Han's favorite characters, Zhang Chuan, known as "Lightning in the Dark," a deft and sharp-tongued trickster, a noble thief whose clan had been slaughtered by his enemies.

But as soon as he concentrated on the crystal, as soon as the huge fiery characters "Lightning Dance: Sneaking Justice" appeared in the air, Han fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Han thought the endless rewriting of scrolls was a special torture the bastard had devised to turn one of the most important parts of his life into ashes. The handwriting had finally lost any beauty, replaced by sheer efficiency - each stroke was very fast, went exactly where it needed to go, and used only the smallest amount of ink. Perhaps it was the use of qi, but Han had learned this "technique" of writing very quickly, for it had been little more than a month since his father's departure, even though it seemed like years or even decades.

If Han had taken the trouble to read these books while writing, he would have been furious. After all, he had to rewrite some stupid and unnecessary treatises, from books for little children to guides to beasts in godforsaken places in the backlands of the Empire where no reasonable man would ever go. Luckily, there was no need to memorize the scrolls, as in the training of a rogue master, so Han simply fell into a kind of trance, and, circulating qi, unconsciously, like the puppets of villainous puppeteers from crystals, opened the books, shifted the scribbled sheets, soaked the inksticks, and wielded the brush.

If it weren't for the additional daily training, Han would have turned into a dusty bookworm. But, alas, even here, he could not rest or relax, for one torment after another did not make him feel any better. Only one joy brightened his suffering - Mуш. She was the only bright spot in the endless torture, still as beautiful and graceful as ever.

"They're coming! They're coming! They're coming!" There was a sudden shriek. One of the servants yelled as loudly as if everyone around him were deaf and couldn't hear him the first time.

He galloped across the entire estate in defiance of all rules and regulations, rolled off his horse, and almost smashed his forehead against a rock when he was at Han's feet.

"Young Master, your father, General Guang, is very close!"

What do they think they're doing? Not to put the horse in the stable and then come and announce it properly! And to congratulate on the return of their father, whose last visit had been so cruel and insensitive! It must have been the bastard master's plan to deprive Han of his composure and humiliate him even more!

"You should have given your news to Lady Lihua first," Han almost growled.

"Mrs. Lihua!" A servant rushed to the side. "Good news! Your husband, General Guang, is very close!"

Han opened his mouth. It turned out that Mother was here too - she was standing surrounded by two maidservants and watching him practice! Was this the main square of the capital? The only thing missing was the Emperor and his ministers!

Instead of punishing this troublemaker, Mother gave him an approving gaze and a slow, benevolent nod. Han tried to pull himself together. But no, something inside was raging, snarling, and angry like a beast. A beast on a rope, no, the strongest chain of Qi and Stellar Steel that couldn't be broken even with the Heaven and Earth Crushing Technique.

"He has defeated the Hunghuns and is carrying rich gifts and trophies! His guards are following him! The Emperor's banner and the flags of the Nao family, as well as the personal pennant of General Guang himself, hover above the army!" The servant continued to shout.

"Nothing but utter triumph was expected of him," Mom smiled.

Han snorted. Of course, he hadn't expected it, for his father had only recently come to visit, so he must have told her everything. Now, he'll be back for real. He'll be praised by everyone. He'll again approve of Han's horrible torture, which is still called "training" for some reason. And Han will die in obscurity, starving and exhausted during the training, and the villain will have the upper hand! And when he's gone, no one will shed a tear for him, maybe just a little for Mom and Mei.

He glanced at Mei Lin, who had already stopped her training. For Han, that would be dozens of hours of torture, with pushups on sharp rocks, standing on his head, jumping into cold water, kicking his heels, and being deprived of dinner. And this was still in the soft version, but he didn't want to think about the hard one - broken arms, legs, and ribs.

"We have to prepare," the master nodded. "Apprentice, you are free to go."

"Hey, what do you mean free?" Han shouted, immediately getting hit on the head with a bamboo stick.

He was used to this, so he instinctively covered himself with qi and didn't lose consciousness. He had learned to tolerate pain a long time ago, an eternity ago.

"What do you mean free, Master?" he repeated. "You won't even let me take a few breaths, and she's already allowed to finish!"

The master laughed and pointed at Mei.

"Are you wondering why I load her differently than you do, why her training brings less pain and suffering?"

"No, Master, that's understandable. Since she's a girl..."

The stick flashed through the air, and Han shielded his head with qi, but it was still painful and hurtful. Even more hurtful than when they had been beaten with a stick of qi and air - then it had been done under the pretext of training, but now Han had gotten it for nothing at all.

"Silly little tadpole," the master shook his head, "you still don't get it. Unlike you, Mei has been practicing for a long time. She doesn't need to be pushed or coerced, but she's the one who wants to get ahead. She only needs a direction to reach perfection, so I just show her the way. You spent two cycles pleasing your belly and looking at silly crystals despite all the opportunities that lay before you as one of the heirs to a great lineage!"

Han bit his lip resentfully. What does this fool know about crystals? What does he know about food? In his village, he's used to eating slop, of course, so he can't appreciate the taste of a real dish! And what does he know about wisdom? He was waving his stupid stick while Han was creating great sayings and writing them down in his divine handwriting, a handwriting that this rascal has now completely ruined!

"While the little egg was lying in the mud," continued the master, "and growing fat, the second egg was trying hard. First, it turned into a small tadpole, then day after day it moved its fins tirelessly, turning first into a fry, then into a fish, and then into a trout. While the first egg was still swarming in the swamp silt, the second one was striving forward, swimming upstream, straight to the waterfall. Perhaps she would have crossed the waterfall herself and jumped through the dragon's gate, perhaps not. But she doesn't have to be forced. She just needs a little help and guidance. You, on the other hand, have to make up for all the lost time you've spent in idleness and laziness. Even a slow but persistent snail can outrun a lazy fox. But you are not a fox, and Mei is not a snail. That's why your ways of learning differ so much. If you were a woman and she was a guy, nothing would change. Understand?"

"Yes, Master," Han grumbled resentfully.

"Student!"

"Yes, Master?"

"Don't think your training is over. But for the sake of the honorable General Guang, I'll give you one more chance to prove yourself, to prove that you're ready to become a fry. Go, they're waiting for you."

"Thank you, Master," Han bowed.

From the outside, one might think that such a deep bow was full of reverence and respect. But it only served to hide the grimace of hatred and the gnashing of teeth.

Fry! Then what? Some other small fish? How long would it take him to climb up to this carp that still had to swim against the waterfall for some reason? Wouldn't it have been easier to kill Han on the spot immediately, using his father's permission? The scoundrel had some ulterior motives, for example, to slowly torture Han to death so that he could then take his place himself! Or even something even more sinister!

Han didn't have time to think about it. The sounds of the approaching army could be heard even here, so Han hurried toward the central gate.

* * *

The wait was quite long. In the old days, Han would have been furious at the servant for his haste in wasting so much precious time. But now he just stood there, enjoying the sun, the light spring breeze, and the blissful idleness of the day. What was there to be angry about if Han wasn't standing in heavy stances, wasn't busy rewriting scrolls, wasn't sweating in running laps, and certainly wasn't getting beaten and broken?

At last, when the sounds of trumpets and drums became loud and clear, the main gate of the Nao estate swung open. Two horsemen, one holding the Emperor's banner and the other the Nao family flag, rode in. Then, one by one, the footguards began to enter, lining the edges of the square in straight rows. Han looked at his father's army with an almost forgotten childish delight - the rugged warriors looked like fierce tigers, full of unyielding strength and power.

The wagons arrived, and the soldiers and servants began to bring out the booty, stacking chests, trunks, cuts of silk and cloth, carpets and fluffy skins of unknown beasts, weapons, and armor of defeated enemies. The lavishness of the trophies was overwhelming, and at the thought of how many things could be bought with these treasures, Han's mouth filled with saliva. But the saliva had the sour, disgusting taste of vegetables, rice, and chicken breast. What's this wealth for if it can't be enjoyed? He's killing himself in training.

Soon, the arrival was over. The guardsmen formed a perfect formation inside, while the soldiers and cavalry remained outside the gate. The guardsmen then rearranged themselves into an honor guard, ignoring the mountains of treasures at their side. Several guardsmen grabbed luxurious carpets and rolled them out right on the stones of the square.

A group of officials puffed up with self-importance, walked through the gate, and stood on their own. One of them came forward, wearing high-heeled shoes to make him look taller and an opulent outfit made of the finest silk in Qandong Province. As he looked at the silk robe embroidered with golden phoenixes and dragons, Han could directly feel its smoothness and softness. Then he looked at his calloused palms, at the chapped skin where the dirt of the training ground had soaked into his skin, at the scraped knuckles of his fingers, which were so hard from training and almost cried.

"Great Sovereign of the Empire," the official suddenly spoke in a loud and booming voice, unrolling a scroll decorated with gold and silk ribbons, "the impeccable Ruler of a Thousand Lands and Cities, Lord of a Dozen Winds, Son of the Heavenly Dragon, his splendor the Emperor has declared his will!"

The announcement of the Emperor's Will meant that the Son of Heaven himself was speaking at this very moment. Therefore, everyone immediately bowed down to the ground: the servants stretched out, and the soldiers and other officials kneeled, as did Han himself. Only women and children without adult names were allowed to remain on their feet, but Mei and Mother bowed as well, showing deep reverence. The head of the Nao family, the illustrious General Guang, went down on one knee as befitted a person of his status and position. And to Han's fury and indignation, the hated master did not prostrate himself on the ground but knelt on one knee as if he were his father's equal!

Han wanted to do something about it, and if he were a crystal hero, he would have stepped forward to expose this scoundrel and tear off all the masks. Or come up with some cunning plan to defame him in front of the Emperor and then secretly observe the Execution of the Nine Thousand Torments. But for now, all one had to do was grit his teeth and listen to the official's voice.

"...showing tremendous valor, endurance, fortitude, and intelligence, General Guang Nao not only defeated the hordes of Hunghuns, not only drove them to the villages but also conquered them, forcing them to swear an oath to the Emperor before the face of their gods! Now, the border of the Empire is safe for the first time in three hundred years. The three western provinces can breathe easy, live peacefully, and work for the good of the Empire! The Empire now has a reliable shield in the west! And the credit for this goes to General Guang Nao, whose commanding talent is second only to the art of his diplomacy! The Emperor, hallowed by his name in the ages and moons, grants Guang Nao the title of "General First Class," a jade plaque as commander of the Imperial Guard, and the right to carry the Imperial Flag of a Dozen Dragons! Now, he is allowed to enter the Emperor without report and give orders to the governors of provinces. This is written by the Emperor's hand on the fifth day of the month of the Hare of the Year of the Wood Monkey!"

Father rose to his feet and approached the official with a slow, dignified gait. He respectfully accepted the scroll containing the Emperor's will with both hands and proclaimed:

"This scroll will be hung in the most honorable place of the Nao family house!"

Han's anger boiled over. For some reason, neither his father nor mother had allowed him to hang his scrolls in the main reception hall. But when he had to beat some filthy savages and receive a scroll from the Emperor, they immediately found the right place! What's the matter with the Hunghuns? The barbarians were jealous of the Empire's wealth and attacked it always and from all sides, and his father was constantly at war with them. So if they hung every imperial scroll, there'd be no room left on the walls! And in fact, the Empire is full of qi masters. They could have defeated all the barbarians long ago without the help of his father! And the bastard master is considered a grandmaster. If he is so powerful, why is he hiding in Nao's manor? Why didn't he go and show those Hunghuns himself? Because fighting the ferocious savages to the death is not a cowardly way to mock the peaceful scholar and philosopher Han!

The ceremonies went on as usual, the servants scurrying about like scalded dogs, the guests arriving all the time, steam and smoke billowing over the kitchen, the cooks and cooks scurrying about. Han feared that his teacher would make him do something humiliating again, embarrassing him in front of the officials, guards, and guests, but he was clearly busy. As he dragged a huge stack of firewood made of some obscure bluish-pearlescent wood into the kitchen, which, despite being over three times his height, somehow didn't fall, he only gave Han a glance:

"You can rest until the banquet."

Han didn't believe in such generosity. The bastard was obviously up to something insidious, probably planning to torture him in some way or put him through another grueling training session. But while there was still time, he should use it to his advantage, namely to get a good and sound sleep.

He was about to go to his room when the meaning of the master's words came to him with soul-shattering clarity. Tonight, there would be a banquet, a banquet with officials and guests, where normal food would be served, not slop for the servants. And no one in this world, not even the Emperor himself, will forbid the heir to the family to participate in this banquet! He can have a good meal. He can eat any dish, even pork ribs or chicken bre.... or octopus in garlic and ginger sauce, or four-winged duck in baoyu mushrooms with a Fujian bun! No, Han had been a bit hasty - even he had only tasted Fujian bun twice in his life. It was only prepared by guest chefs who were so renowned that they were seated at the same table as the host as honored guests.

Han was proud of his sharp mind for a reason. He had figured out his master's sneaky plan immediately. And this plan was so cunning that it would have honored any of the major villains in the crystals. Han had come straight from training and was still dressed in his soldier's rags. During his father's arrival, he had managed not to disgrace himself only because no one recognized the gaunt, tired, and tormented young man as the heir to the family, mistaking him for a mere soldier. But at the feast, where he would sit at the head of the table as one of the hosts, he would not be able to hide. If he did not show up at the feast, it would be, to the delight of the vile master, a total loss of face! It was not for nothing that the villain had sent him to rest so Han would fall asleep and miss the whole thing! Alas, the villain's plan was flawless - Han can't show up either. He simply has nothing to wear. All those fine silk clothes and shoes were made for Han's past, as beautiful as the dawn near a mountain lake and as round as the full moon. What to do, Han didn't know. He couldn't even order the servants to prepare new clothes - there was too little time to sew something decent!

"Haonyu... I mean my brave, strong Han!" Mother's dear voice was heard. "There you are. I can't find you."

There! Even his mother can't recognize him in those rags and with that haggard face!

"Honey, you should hurry up!" Mom continued.

"Hurry up? Where to?" Han was surprised.

"To the fitting and adjustment of your clothes! I realize you look very manly and want to show it off, but the Emperor's herald and other officials will be at the banquet. They may find your appearance a little provocative."

Han stared at his mother with widened eyes. His mother was still the same mother Lihua, despite all the sorcery and mind-affecting techniques, who loved her son! Han had sworn that he would get her out of the villain's clutches, that he would become as strong as him and even stronger! But then he remembered what foolish oaths lead to and bit his tongue.

"What is it, son?" Mother asked. "Of course, if you don't want to, you can come like this!"

"I do! Of course, I do!" Han shouted at the top of his voice, causing a bunch of surprised looks.

* * *

For Han, what was happening seemed like a magical dream. It was as if he had never been tortured or tormented as if he were not an egg, a fry, or a carp. All the fish evoked only gastronomic interest. No zabu, bubu, dabu stance, or any other dragon leaps on the same foot as the phoenix's subterranean takeoffs. It was like a return to the days when qi was something distant - the domain of his father, brother, guardsmen, and heroes from crystals.

At last, he was sitting. Not in a stance, not rubbing his calluses on the rough wooden bench, but in a fine, comfortable chair, obviously made in ancient times, for it did not even creak when he sat down. The silk clothes caressed his body pleasantly, and he felt like a celestial clothed in the softest clouds. And the dishes! Various bowls, plates, and soup bowls exuded divine aromas on the tables set up in the middle of the garden, illuminated by a myriad of lanterns, glowing orbs, magic talismans, or simply clots of qi. The beautiful pipa melody pierced the evening twilight, flowing among the flowers, bushes, and trees, among the braziers that warmed the cool spring air. Han wished the feast had been held in the main hall. It would have made him feel quite old. But alas, too many people had arrived, so the feast was held in the garden, with tables arranged according to the status of the guests, the rank of the officials, and the ranks of the guards. Han sat next to his parents, and even the presence of his master, still dressed in barbarian leathers, sitting in the place of honor at the other end of the table, could not spoil his bliss. Even the spirits of the ancestors, which he had noticed with his heightened vision flying about the garden and circling the trees, were only mildly annoying.

The guests talked quietly among themselves or whispered loudly. Han knew that all the talk was only about his father, so he directed the qi to his ears.

"...expected from Guang Nao! Great party..."

"...first class! And to enter without a report..."

"...othes made of Fire Salamander skin. So flaunting his wealth..."

Han looked around furtively. He had heard of the Fire Salamander and had even seen it. This monster had been encountered many times in the crystals, and heroes had to work hard to defeat it. Not surprisingly, the hide was highly prized. But in the entire reception, only the commoner master wore leather, and maybe it was still found in the garb and equipment of the guards. The House of Nao was rich but not rich enough to clothe its warriors in armor made of the skin of mythical monsters, so Han thought that he had misunderstood, that he was talking about something else, some distant subject.

"...a huge booty! Subdued by themselves, when the general...."

"...ess Lihua is even more beautiful than I am im..."

"...great dishes! ...even made Fujian buns....."

Hearing about the buns, Han almost jumped up. Had his father brought a famous chef with him? He couldn't bring the buns because they were not only famous for their divine flavor but also their short shelf life. He could hardly wait for his father to rise, praise the Emperor who had honored him with such trust, and announce the beginning of the feast.

Plates and cups clinked, chopsticks clinked, and the guests began to eat. Han was not lagging. He didn't wait for the servants to put food on his plate but served it himself.

Whoever the chef was preparing the food was a true master, and it was a good fortune for his father to meet him. The food melted on his tongue, filling his mouth with divine flavors and delighting his nose with heavenly aromas. Han, who was used to plain rice, boiled vegetables, and stewed vegetables, almost wept with joy.

The only source of irritation was the master. He not only kept up a conversation with the important guests, who nodded and smiled politely at him but also managed to eat elegantly and gracefully, pretending to be some kind of aristocrat rather than a stupid hillbilly. As if a nobleman would wear savage hides!

At last, a servant came up with a large tray of Fujian buns, distributing them so that there was enough for everyone. Han impatiently grabbed a bun, popped it in his mouth, and took a bite. There was a distinctive crunch, and his mouth was filled with a divine flavor full of liquid fire that did not burn but only warmed his body and heart. Han exhaled, and a tongue of flame burst out of his mouth. Flashes of fire erupted here and there as the guests couldn't help but taste the delicacy immediately. Even his mother delicately took a bite of the bun, but his father swallowed it whole and let out a long burst of fire from his mouth.

"Hail to the Dragon General!" One of the guests shouted, and everyone joined in.

The shouting lasted for a long time until the general stood up and looked around at everyone with an attentive gaze. The shouting stopped, and silence reigned, broken only by the chirping of cicadas, the melody of pipa, and the crunching of Fujian buns.

The feasts, the guardsmen, the guests, the cooks, a poetic stanza emerged quite suddenly in Han's mind, the tunes of pipa and the crunch of a Fujian bun...

He regretted for a moment that there was no scroll to immortalize this magnificent poetry, but food beckoned much more now.

"Honored guests, dear friends, and those whom the grace of the Son of Heaven has brought here to my humble table," the father said in a loud, qi-filled voice. "You praise me today, the one who defeated the Hunghuns, before whom they kneeled and swore eternal oaths under the faces of their gods in loyalty to the Empire. But despite the significance of this event for the Empire, I feel no special credit for it. I have fought the Hunghuns many times, but this time, they proved to be very docile and submissive. Very few people died, both my warriors and the Hunghuns, the new inhabitants of our Empire! That is why another thing is of special importance to me - what happened at home in my absence."

The guests rustled, their excited whispers breaking the silence. Han's hope flashed that his father had come to his senses, that he'd dropped the sorcery, that he'd realized what a scoundrel the master had been and the abominations he'd done to his son and wife. But Han dismissed these thoughts, for his last visit had shown that father had not come to his senses.

All of you are aware of my problem. The nasty gossip at court, the lowly enemies of my family, and the hidden jealousies have constantly whispered about how disgusting, fat, ugly, stupid, and lazy General Guang Nao's son is. That a father who could not turn a piece of pork fat, a stupid, worthless cattle, and a cowardly lowlife into a worthy man and a proper representative of a glorious family was incapable of leading an army to victory.

Han clenched his fists. It was a good thing that his father had decided to refute this lie, to shut up all the black tongues by telling them how beautiful and clever his son was and how outrageous this unbelievable slander was.

"As you all know, it's true. Or rather, it was true. My son did grow up spoiled and lazy, cowardly and petty. If I were to write down all of his positive qualities, a small leaf of bamboo would suffice, but if I were to list the traits that can cause nothing but disgust, it would take a scroll from the Guanjin Shan Mountains to the full-flowing and beautiful Hongshui Liu river!"

Han froze with ajar mouth. The chopsticks fell out of his hand and tinkled on the table. A wave of surprised gasps and whispers came from the guests.

"But fortunately, that is in the past. Now my son has a master who, in such a short time, has transformed this greasy gilts into the man you see before you - a worthy young man and the true heir to the Nao family! Son! Will you please your parents' eyes with a trial match with your honorable master?"

Han realized he had no choice. To refuse in front of the guests would be to dishonor his father and family. If he said, "No!" his father would disown him, expel him, and perhaps even order the bastard master to chop off his head. So he stood up.

"Yes, Father!"

The general made a sign with his hand. A crowd of servants with lanterns and torches came running. The servants lined up in a wide circle as if forming a large arena. The Master rose from the table and walked to the center of the circle. Han followed him. They bowed to each other, palms over their fists.

"So, student, will you show the guests what a good fry you can be?"

"Yes, Master," Han gritted through his teeth, gathering qi and running it through his body.

The gong struck, and the fight began. Even the last hobo who had drunk too much rice wine and stoned himself on blue lotus could not call it anything but a beating. Han attacked the master, pouncing like a ferocious tiger, stinging like an enraged snake, striking like a fearsome dragon. He put all his qi into the blows of his arms and legs, concentrating on his hearing and vision to keep up with the master. The stone slabs of the paths cracked, huge craters appeared in the ground, and when the battle moved to the surface of the palace pond, huge fountains of water exploded into the air. But all these efforts were unsuccessful. The master calmly and somehow lazily moved away from each blow, leisurely moving his feet out of Han's way or deflecting his body in a bend. Sometimes, he lifted his arm. He folded it behind his back and simply dodged Han's fierce blow, and Han could do nothing, nothing at all. When Han was exhausted, when his fury was no longer pushing him forward, the master simply intercepted his fist with the palm of his hand and stopped it in mid-air, proclaiming:

"Fight is over!"

Han inwardly howled in frustration. He had not been able to hit his master even once, nor had he been able to touch him of his own accord. The fight was just one more bullying incident in a long line of pain and humiliation.

They bowed to each other again, clenched their fists, and headed back to the tables. The guests murmured and shouted, probably discussing how worthless Han was, how incapable he was of striking even the lightest blow.

His father greeted the master with a smile as wide as he had almost never given his own son.

"Honorable Master," he said, "if it were not foolish and shameless to interfere in the relationship of teacher and apprentice, I would ask you to redouble your efforts. But the bond of discipleship is sacred, so I am just burning with impatience waiting for more results."

More results? More beatings and humiliation? More torture and beatings? Han had never had a taste for alcohol, but now he really wanted a drink. Not even plum wine or rose-petal liquor, but some savage bread tincture made of mountain herbs so its disgusting taste would wash away the bitterness of his father's words. It was also necessary to eat more, for the mysterious cook had probably come from the Emperor's palace and would, therefore, be traveling back. He would never have the opportunity to taste something so delicious again, even without the fact that his vile master made him eat only pig slop and let him dream only of chicken, the toughest, blandest, and most unpalatable part of the chicken. It's okay! Han remembers everything! By channeling qi into his head, he can jog his memory and recall the taste of each of the dishes, especially the Fujian bun - the most delicious and crispy he has ever tasted in his life!

The master slowly stood up from the table and bowed deeply to his father.

"Even though Han Nao neglected his filial duty, even though he was looked upon with disgust and disdain, the truth is that a toad cannot be born from the seed of a dragon, only another dragon. Han Nao has limitless potential. And this humble teacher will do his best to make sure it is fully realized."

Han was terrified. He was no longer so angry at being compared to carp, toads, dragons, and tadpoles but rather panicked by the promise of more torture and abuse in front of so many guests and officials.

"But we cannot be distracted by me and your son," the master continued, "for today is the day of your triumph, General Guang Nao. It is you are being honored by the Emperor, and it is in your honor that we are all gathered here in this magnificent celebration. And this unworthy man has no right to talk about himself. If the great general does not consider it an insult, this insignificant young man would like to present Guang Nao with the fruit of his humble skills."

He approached his father, bowed respectfully, and stretched out his arms. A sword appeared as if from thin air. It looked very simple, a simple Dadao with a simple leather-braided hilt and an unremarkable red wooden scabbard. There was no gold, no gemstones, not even enamel inlaid on the sword. It was not for nothing that the scoundrel had apologized - such a sword was not fit even for a common foot soldier above the rank of tenth rank, let alone a general. And all the more surprising was the reverence and even awe with which his father accepted the sword from his master's hands. The solemn silence was broken by the low murmur of the guests:

"...abbard of Purple Oak!"

"...of Black Rock Panther skin!"

"...utiful work!"

"...asure worthy of the pal..."

What are they talking about? Not about this savage handicraft? Perhaps the guests are discussing something of their own again? Of course, it is not surprising because there is no reason to talk about the gift of a commoner. But there is some courtesy and propriety, isn't there?

The general drew his sword from its sheath and raised it into the air. The blue translucent blade seemed made of glass in the light of torches, lanterns, and glowing orbs,

"Smoky Ice Iron!" One of the guests couldn't resist shouting out loud, impolitely. The rest of the guests gasped in unison.

Father swung his sword. Filled with his qi, the blade glowed from within, lengthened a dozen bou, and slashed the large stone boulder in the middle of the garden. The stone split into two halves, the slice shining like a mirror.

"Heaven knows, the great master's skill can only be matched by his modesty," Father said as he put the sword back into its scabbard. "This is truly a gift worthy of the Emperor's treasury!"

Han was angry. He could see perfectly well that his father had cut the stone with his qi, not because he had picked up this handicraft! So why was he praising so much not his son, but this disgusting rascal right here? Why was it that everything Han had created in the past had only received scant praise, while everything his master had done had received such praise? Han knew the answer, and he didn't like it at all. Master had bewitched his father and influenced him and the guests with his qi! Maybe he had snuck into the kitchen and added some potion or pills to the food that didn't work only on Han, purely because of his talent and stamina. Or maybe he used both - both demonic sorcery and the fruits of unholy alchemy! And even if no one believed him now, Han had to open everyone's eyes!

"Father," Han shouted, "he was in the kitchen! And he added to the dishes..."

"Of course he did!" His father's voice was loud, and Han's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected to be believed so easily. "Even though the Honorable Master wishes to remain modest, I cannot hinder a student's eagerness to tell about his master. The great grandmaster was not merely in the kitchen! It was through his efforts that this feast was organized. Not only did he supervise the chefs, but he also prepared many particularly rare dishes with his own hands! Truly, his talents extend from the Earth to the Heavens!"

Han was taken aback. No, he should have known why all the food today was so disgusting, why it tasted so moldy and rotten, and why the Fujian bun had no crunch at all and tasted like rancid rice cakes. But he had no idea that the problem was so serious that it was the master who had ruined all the food!

"I have more good news," Father said, and Han twisted with misgivings. "The great master sent by the spirits and gods of good fortune has healed my Lihua. Today, she was examined by the Emperor's imperial healer, Dr. Jianming, who had the great honor of visiting my home. Not only is she expecting a child, but the heavens have blessed her with twins, both of them boys. This is a great sign from Heaven, bringing doubled happiness and prosperity to the Nao family!"

With sudden clarity and distinctness, Han realized that this was the end. He had been forgotten, discarded like a broken brush. Now his parents would have new sons, his mother would completely forget about him, and his father... His father had never liked him much, and now he would finally give him over to the master or maybe even watch him kill Han right in front of his eyes. And when Han dies, no one will shed a tear. The urge to drink came with a renewed vigor and became unbearable. Han looked around, spotted one of the servants, and signaled him to come over. The loud noise of praise and congratulations that the guests were showering on his father made him almost shout.

"Bring the booze! A whole jug!" Han yelled in the servant's ear. "Or you know what? Lead me away. I'll pick it out myself!"

* * *

The pain in Han's soul overrode any physical pain, and he was so immersed in his worries that he lost track of time. He was drowning in sorrow, and his attempts to drown it all with wine and stronger liquor were futile. As it turned out, the books, scrolls, and crystals were right when they showed that booze could only help for a short time. In Han's case, it didn't help at all. He drank expensive wines like water. He drank the strong, barbaric throatwort his father had brought back from the campaign like a traveler who had overcome the desert drinking cold green tea. He lost count of the jugs, bottles, and pots, not caring that the liquor spilling past his mouth stained his only decent clothes and permanently spoiled the precious silk.

The damned qi interfered, forcing him to remain disgustingly sober and collected, and no means of suppression helped. But Han didn't despair. He knew that persistence and perseverance would overcome any obstacle, and wasn't that what the rogue master had always told him? So Han continued to drink heavily, hoping to relieve the emptiness inside.

He did not know how much time had passed. He could only tell from the many empty pots and jugs. A sudden thought flashed through his head, and Han choked on his wine. While he is suffering, everyone else is having fun! Continuing to rejoice, discussing his shame, and praising the master!

"I'lll 'umiliate u all myself," he said in a slurred voice and stood up.

Go out to all of them! Show up while they're celebrating and tell them absolutely everything! Tear apart the web of lies and expose the betrayal! Yes, it would bring shame to the Nao family, but so what? Hadn't the clan been disgraced today? Han resolutely stepped forward. As it turned out, the poison added to the food by the villain, as well as the sneaky, wicked techniques, had worked after all. The walls bent, the ground shook, and empty pots rushed under his feet. You're trying for nothing, impostor! You'll never succeed! Han is a hero, and heroes always overcome and win!

Overcoming the swaying steps and lurching walls, Han climbed out of the basement and headed toward the guests. The feast was over, the servants had already cleared the tables, or the villain had used some kind of technique to prevent Han from revealing his misdeeds. There was no one left in the garden, and the only evidence of the festivities was the crumpled grass and the clots of glowing qi still hanging in the air.

Mei! He has to tell Mei! She's the only one who's always believed in Han. She's the only one who'll listen and understand. They'll run away! They'll run away together, just like Hua Lun ran away with his beloved Xue Shi! But they must act stealthily, for the villain had prepared himself well and spread his poisonous web everywhere! Han gathered qi and wrapped himself in a dense cocoon, closing himself off from the world around him. Despite the sorcery of the scoundrel, which made his qi obeyed so poorly, he succeeded, even if not at first. Even though hiding his qi made it impossible for him to sense other people's qi, which was, of course, the imposter master's original intention, Han knew that he would find Mei Ling without any qi! He headed out to search, traversing the villain-enchanted grass that clung to his feet, as well as the trees and bushes that got in his way. The manor was asleep, with only the watchful guards and the occasional shadowy glimpse of late servants. Han suppressed the urge to call for help. This was exactly what the villain had expected! But Han had uncovered all the dastardly schemes. He knew everyone was in cahoots, so he decided to do it himself. Even though it took a long time, he did it!

When Han heard the voices of Mei and the bastard master, he tiptoed quietly toward the door, which was closed tightly, and the light from behind it was dimly lit. He didn't despair, for the patience of a man who had endured all the abuse of 'training' would soon become legendary! He would sneak in like a tiger, hide like a dragon, wait for the master to leave, and then rescue Mei from his clutches!

Han crept to the door and peered through the crack. If the wine he'd drunk was still working, what he saw made the rest of the buzz go away. Mei was standing in front of the master, and both of her palms were in his hands!

"This decision must be made by you and only you," said the scoundrel. "But remember, then our relationship will be over."

Hearing this, Han rejoiced. The fact that they had some sort of relationship made his heart prickle, but now their connection was a thing of the past!

"I made up my mind a long time ago," Mei said. "I know exactly what I want."

Han almost laughed out loud. Well done, Mei! Han had come to rescue her, but she had broken free of the sorcery and cast off the spell herself! You could not expect anything else from Han's beloved!

"It's your choice," the master nodded. "And I can't say I don't wish the same with all my heart. From this day forward, I cannot be your mentor. I am no longer your master, and you are no longer my student. It's over."

It was only by sheer force of will that Han couldn't come inside with shouts of triumph to mock the wretched worm and not congratulate Mei on her release from torture! It was only by sheer willpower and the realization that the teacher was going to get off on Han, and with broken arms and legs, there was no way to escape with Mei.

"It's not over. On the contrary, it's just beginning now!" Mei smiled radiantly. "And I've never been so happy in my life!"

"I'm happy too," the master replied and smiled back. It was neither a smirk nor a sneer - it was the first time Han had seen such a sincere and bright smile, which, had he not known the true nature of the scoundrel, might have fooled even him into mistaking him for a good man. "I have dreamed of this for dozens and dozens of years!"

"Silly, we've known each other less than a year," Mei grinned.

"It's like a whole new life for me. All I know is that I love you, Mei Lin. And I want to be with you forever."

"I love you, too," she said. "And from this day forward, we will always be together."

The master drew Mei to him and embraced her gently as if he were clutching a priceless vase whose fine porcelain could be crushed by a careless movement of his fingers. He leaned toward her and kissed her - very gently, carefully, and tenderly. She pressed herself against him and kissed him back, ardently, passionately, hotly.

Han recoiled from the door and nearly collapsed to the floor. The rascal and Mei Lin? His Mei Lin? Even if he caught them in bed and saw her being abused by the master, it wouldn't hurt as much as it did now. After all, back then, it could have been blamed on demonic techniques, stupefying potions, qi effects, and black sorcery. But no, Mei had cast Han away, completely forgetting about him. She'd chosen this scoundrel, completely betraying everything that had been between them: the years of acquaintance, the training together, the fascination with scrolls and crystals. No matter how bitter Han was that he hadn't been chosen, he couldn't be angry with Mei.

And what was most surprising, he did not hold a grudge against the master either. No, he hated the bastard, despised him, and wished for a painful death as soon as possible; he hadn't forgotten the insults, the pain, or the abuse. But for the fact that the master did everything to be with Mei, he could not condemn in any way. After all, it was Mei Lin - the most beautiful girl in the world, and every man, if he is not a scamp and not a fool, would make any effort to win her!

After all, as the saying once coined by Han himself said, A warrior knows no pity for the enemy only in two cases - in battle and love!

If only the bastard and Mei hadn't met, if only they hadn't gotten to know each other, things would have been very different! Everyone had turned their backs on Han. Everyone had abandoned him-parents, servants, acquaintances, and now Mei. There was endless pain ahead of him, and to the constant physical pain was added a thousand times more intense mental pain. And all because of what? Because of that stupid oath that the stupid spirits had confirmed! It was all their fault!

"Nothing," he whispered, turning and walking away, "I'll show you all! Y-you'll all cry for me! You will be sorry! But it will be late!"

The walls and the corridor began to bend as well as blur, but Han persevered. He dodged the doorjambs, even though they were insidious, and got hit in the face by the heaving floor, but he got up, feeling not physical pain but only a great emptiness inside. He left the house as he had intended, but there was no point in running away without May. On the contrary, if he left, they would all be happy. Probably everyone except the master - after all, he wouldn't have a victim left to torture. Mother and Father had already found replacements for him. Mei had chosen someone else, and the servants didn't care - and if Han disappeared, they'd all breathe a sigh of relief. No, he wouldn't let them get off that easy!

Ignoring the concerned looks of the guards, he left the house and headed away, deep into the grounds of the estate, to the place he visited once a year to perform a ceremony of homage to his ancestors. And now he would show real reverence, the reverence they deserved!

A small temple on an elevated hill came into view, which looked very ominous in the moonlight. The lanterns near the entrance were lit as always, casting a bluish light on the cyan plaques with the names and deeds of Ancestors and casting an ominous glare on the lake nearby. Han stepped forward, clenching his fists, filled with resentment, anger, a thirst for justice, and a desire for revenge. The spirits of his ancestors had betrayed him. They had not protected him, they had not saved him, they had brought him all his troubles! Then what did they deserve in return?

The door tried to dodge, setting a jamb in its way, but Han wasn't always a true hero for nothing! He filled his body with qi, pierced the wall with his forehead, and stepped inside.

The blue light of the lanterns painted the temple in otherworldly ominous colors, but Han's courage could not be broken by such tricks! He looked around at the onyx and jasper stone walls, the statues of ancestors, and the tall columns decorated with delicate carvings. His gaze stopped at the family altar, the very one he had received his adult name, the one on which for so many years he had offered gifts and asked the ancestors for protection and prosperity for the Nao family! And what? Had they helped him? Protected him? Or did they not even consider him a Nao? Did they accept his father's oath? So, they like different oaths? Well, they'll get one! Father, Mother, and Mei Han didn't appreciate and laughed at his troubles. But if he dies, they'll realize what they've done, but it'll be too late! Han laughed, imagining their faces tomorrow morning! But his only regret was that he would never see it again.

He didn't have a knife on him, but what was the scumbag master said? What's a weapon for when you've got qi?

He gathered energy into his hand, deliberately making the qi as sharp as a Star Steel blade. Blood rushed out of his fingers, but it didn't spill onto the ground. Instead, it hovered in the air, forming the tip of a large brush.

"Curse the Nao family and their Ancestors, the one who swore the oath, and those who heard the oath! Who watched my suffering but did nothing to help!" Han shouted. A wave of qi surged out from his body, flooding the shrine with bright light for a moment.

Outside, the wind howled, dark clouds covered the moons, and thunder rumbled. Lightning glittered, their reflections through the opening in the wall, turning any movement into a series of frozen pictures.

"I'm leaving this family! I want nothing to do with it, not now, not later, not in my next life!"

A blinding bolt of lightning struck right in front of the entrance so loud and hard that it made my ears pop, and shards of rock splattered all around.

"You've never appreciated me, so I won't be respectful either!"

Han swung his hand, which was clutching a bloody brush, and wrote in handwriting so beautiful that each character was a work of art, a sprawling inscription:

If Guang Nao and Lihua Nao like the master so much, let him be their son instead of me, Han!

Han didn't add the family name - after all, he had already disowned the family!

The qi-filled blood glowed scarlet, its bright radiance illuminating the shrine, suppressing the light of the lanterns. A new burst of inspiration came over him.

He who does not value his son, let him have a stranger's, he wrote on another wall.

He looked at both inscriptions with an appraising gaze. Immediately, he felt regret for what he had done. Of course, he would regret it, for he was leaving such beautiful masterpieces to this family undeservedly! He realized that he had hurried. He should have gone through the estate and burned all his quotes so they would not get a single one! But it couldn't be helped. Let this be a parting gift.

Betrayal of kin is like a thousand poisoned daggers, he wrote another phrase, a new masterpiece in a long line of previous ones.

He wanted to write something else but decided it was too precious a gift for the Nao family, and they didn't deserve it. He stopped holding his qi, and the brush lost its firmness, splashing to the floor in a torrent of blood.

Han walked up to the altar. He took one last look at the ancestral statues and the spirits of the ancestors, which swirled violently in the air, visible only through qi, and laughed demonically. It really was a pity that he wouldn't be able to look at anything with his eyes tomorrow. He wished he could see their faces and enjoy the fruits of his revenge! But that was okay. Perhaps he would read about it in a treatise someday: "The Fall of the Nao Family," or even see it all in a contemplative crystal.

"The only thing worse than death is shame, and you'll have to live with that shame!"

It was also an excellent phrase, worthy of being immortalized, but Han didn't write it down - he had already given the Nao family too many undeserved gifts!

A swift stroke of qi and blood rushed from his body, flooding the sanctuary. It hurt, but no more than the torture training, no more than seeing Mei in the arms of that scoundrel, no more than hearing that his parents were finding a replacement for him!

Let the father pay for his words and the spirits for taking the oath. And if they don't like it, there's the bastard who brought Han to this! Let the clan collapse, let the mother cry all she wants, and let the traitorous servants who were so gleeful at the sight of his torment eat their slop - because if the clan falls, they will lose their jobs and starve to death!

"Whatever I'm reborn as in the future, it'll be better than this," Han muttered. "Try to deal with such temporary hardships, Ma-s-ter!"

He collapsed on the altar, drenching it in blood. At last, Han, now no longer Nao, felt relief and inner peace.

* * *