The Sect Leader stood behind his desk, reading the list of names Pengfei provided, stroking his black and grey beard as he contemplated.

  “All friends of yours?” Chen Hongzhang asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, that’s fine. But what about their current jobs? Can they be spared?”

  “The twins are in the Finance Hall but – “

  “Elder Shan says they can barely add.”

  “Right. So, no big loss there. Elder Rulan says I can take Nanxi, free and clear. Elder Ji has the rest of us, and he seems enthusiastic to have some skilled horsemen in the Discipline Hall. He said something about ‘chasing down our wayward brothers’.”

  “Then we’ll rearrange things so all of you are in the Discipline Hall under Chen Ji. I’ll tell him to give you a little more leeway than normal, so you can make up for the training you miss while you’re tending to the horses. But I imagine you’ll still have some work to do.”

  Pengfei nodded.

  --Probably more qinggong training.--

  The head of the Discipline Hall had stubbornly fixated on drilling lightness techniques and the ‘Kunlun Wishful Hand’ for the past several days.

  “Have you decided on work shifts, for once we have taken delivery of the horses?” Chen Hongzhang inquired.

  “I was thinking three shifts, two people each. That would be in addition to whoever is looking after the goat herd. Two weeks each shift.”

  “Fine. We’ll make the goat herding a two-week shift as well, keep it in sync. When you’re down there, you can use them as you see fit.”

  Pengfei nodded appreciatively before continuing, indicating the list of friends he had chosen as his coworkers. “I’ll need all of them when we go to pick up the horses in the spring. Spend a week in Hotan teaching them to ride and figuring out how to move the herd around. I figure another week to get back to the valley, taking it slow and allowing for some mistakes on the way. Then, we work the first shift together so everyone is on the same page. Maybe a month, or six weeks, all told.”

  Chen Hongzhang raised his eyebrows but did not object. Pengfei waited for something further, but the Sect Leader just placed the sheet of paper with the names back on his desk.

  “Fine. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. You can go now.”

  Pengfei clasped his fist in salute, then left the patriarch’s residence. He hugged himself tightly against the cold and made his way to the training grounds. He came within sight of it after rounding a corner.

  The Jin generation were crowding the courtyard. The steam from their collective breaths hung like a cloud over them. He looked for his friends among the gathered disciples but had arrived late for afternoon practice. Didn’t have time to find them before Chen Rulan called to line up.

  “Heaven Shaking Fist! Third form!”

  Pengfei found a space among the throng as everyone assumed the starting stance and moved in unison. The initial pace was slow, the last form of the style meant for practicing the utilization of qi. Pengfei had learned to ape the external movements but the internal flow of energy was almost completely missing.

  He attempted what little he knew. The straight punch imbued with qi, the ‘Thundering Sky Strike’, was the only attack he could use with anything close to its intended form, but even that little success provided insight into other blows.

  --Move the qi through the arm, release it with the extension of the strike, send it outward…--

  Simpler than the qinggong, which kept the energy contained within the body and needed continuous circulation. He threw the punch, felt a sensation of warmth in his wrist and knuckles. It shot forward and was lost in the sea of energy that was produced by the practice of a hundred and fifty Jin disciples.

  Swimming in that qi was heady and disorienting. Not as instantly overwhelming as the strength he had sensed from the likes of the elders, but more pervasive, inescapable.

  Pengfei’s mind wandered in the synchronized training. He recollected the conversation with Nanxi from a few nights ago.

  --He said I could just take it easy, that this group training was enough. Do the minimum amount and try to enjoy myself.--

  “Again!” Chen Rulan called out. The disciples began working through the form from the top. Stomps and shouts echoed through the training ground. The heat of their breath swirled on unseen currents of energy that came from their fists.

  --But what is there to enjoy out here? Riding Horse, drinking, spending time with my friends…--

  His life in the sect replayed itself. The consistent presence of martial arts was plain to see. It was there in every bad memory.

  --Bullied by Nanxi, then Hongyu and Daopian. My fight to the death with Guoyu. Constantly feeling behind the other disciples…--

  But the martial arts were there in every good memory too.

  --Reconciliation with Nanxi, standing up to Hongyu and Daopian, drinking wine and kicking the twins backward while we laughed, letting Horse graze while I read the sect’s manuals…--

  The forms came to an abrupt end with no corrections offered. “Sparring!” Elder Rulan called. “No internal energy, we don’t need you fools killing each other.”

  The man’s words faded into the background. Pengfei stood across from a stranger and bowed, his conscious mind still piecing through the puzzle.

  His partner threw a kick to the body. Pengfei stepped away, just enough to let the power dissipate slightly. It still made contact on his arms, but after it did, Pengfei threw a kick of his own, felt it land on his opponent’s guard.

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  Punch. Parry. Attack. Counterattack.

  Pengfei’s movements were simple, basic, but correct.

  The bout ended and Pengfei’s partner offered a quick bow along with some praise. “Good match.”

  “Yeah… thanks. You too.”

  The next partner took the place of the previous. Another bout began as Pengfei gradually realized the state of his own mind.

  It came to the surface when he landed a punch to his opponent’s body, felt the shiver go up his forearm.

  --Landing a good strike has always been fun. Even when I was scared and desperate to catch up, the feeling of getting it right was satisfying. The improvements…--

  He winced as a blow bit into his side, but tied up with his partner to stifle the attacks. Then disengaged again.

  --Where does it lead though? Life as a warrior? Killing more people like Guoyu?--

  But that seemed separate in his mind. Another province of existence, distinct from the physical practice.

  --It’s different right? Training martial arts, it’s not just for killing, is it? Every sect of the Orthodox faction claims they fight for justice. But that can’t be all of it. There are old men here who will never see a battlefield again, and they’re still practicing. Pursuing the Dao, maybe?--

  Kunlun and the other Taoist sects, like Mount Hua or Qingcheng, claimed to use the martial arts as a way of pursuing the Dao, seeking the effortless connection with the guiding forces of the universe. Pengfei had heard the Buddhists of Shaolin and Emei used the martial arts as moving meditation, pursuing enlightenment by distracting the conscious mind and allowing the unconscious to roam free.

  --That’s not it either. I don’t care about the religion or the philosophy. I don’t need to be a hero or a warrior. I’m fine raising horses, even though that’s not how I pictured my life. But martial arts… I don’t know what it is, but there’s something there.--

  The second fight gave way to the third and fourth. Pengfei pushed his thoughts to the side and focused on the bouts, letting himself enjoy the little struggles. His pleasure did not equate to skill though. He recognized his improvements, but Pengfei was still only average when it came to empty-hand fighting.

  “That’s enough!” Chen Rulan stepped forward, Elder Weidao standing silently next to him. Pengfei waited for the expected command to fetch the wooden jians. But the masters surprised the disciples.

  “You’ve all been progressing well over the past several weeks. We’ve noticed your commitment. Sometimes, especially when training so hard, a martial artist may focus too intently on what is right in front of them. Elder Weidao and I thought you may need a reminder of what the road ahead looks like.”

  The elders shooed the disciples from the center of the training ground, establishing a ring around themselves.

  Neng appeared at Pengfei’s side and whispered the realization that was dawning on the faces of several disciples.

  “They’re going to fight!”

  ******************************************************************************

  Chen Rulan had placed his bar mace, disguised as a sword in a scabbard, off to the side. He and Chen Weidao had likewise discarded his steel jian. They both held wooden swords now, saluted each other as equals, standing several paces apart. Then raised their practice blades.

  The difference between the generations was evident from the beginning of the elders’ match. There were none of the small abortive movements that the disciples made when they gauged distance and reaction. Every step was smooth, the swords still as they waited for the precise moment to strike.

  Rulan slid inward, within range, then gave a short chop to the wrist. Weidao simply thrusted his weapon to the throat, evading and counterattacking simultaneously. The larger man leaned out of the way.

  There were more exchanges. Each technique, each pass, was something Pengfei might see in a match between his peers. But elevated, amplified. Faster, more graceful, less hesitation.

  There was that heat in the air that had nothing to do with temperature. The release of qi as the masters began to use their internal energy.

  The range of the combatants spread farther apart as they began to use their qinggong. They could hit the same attacks from a greater distance in a shorter amount of time. The cracks of the wooden swords crossing each other grew in volume, each strike more powerful than the last.

  Dragon Emerges (Long Chu Xian - 龍出現)

  The thrust was the combination of half a dozen arts and principles, all rolled into one of the most basic attacks of the ‘Swift Dragon Lightning Sword’. In a flash of insight, Pengfei pictured the qi harnessed by the sect’s neigong method, flowing through the meridians of Elder Weidao’s legs and allowing him to cross half a dozen paces in a single lunge. The same energy lent strength to the man’s sinewy arm as it snapped out at a terrifying speed.

  Chen Rulan chose to evade rather than facing the attack head on. His movement was fast and forceful. It was different than the qinggong Pengfei had been learning from Elder Ji. More powerful.

  As if to accentuate the point, Elder Rulan bounded in again towards his opponent in the next beat with a horizontal slash. When he landed, the stones beneath his feet cracked dramatically, throwing up a small cloud of powdered rock. Weidao was already moving backwards and when the blades made contact, he let the force propel him backwards, floating like a leaf in the wind.

  More passes, some initiated by Weidao and others by Rulan. The techniques used became more absurdly artful and technical. Attacks wrapped around blocks to attack with the false edges. Wooden sword points danced around each other in circles, constantly threatening but never touching.

  --Why has Elder Rulan always downplayed his sword skills? He’s amazing!--

  But even as Pengfei thought that, the momentum shifted. Chen Weidao forced Rulan into a hard block. No deflection, no softening the blow. Weidao’s weapon stuck the other just above the mock handguard. Rulan was left holding just the hilt as the rest of his weapon broke off and went skittering across the floor of the training ground.

  Weidao’s weapon seemed to be surrounded by a haze. Something felt but not really seen. Familiar.

  --Qi? No, more than that. Sword qi.--

  The mark of a true master. Someone who has reached the Peak, or beyond, by following the path of the sword.

  --I didn’t know Chen Weidao was that strong.--

  The energy surrounding the man’s sword faded away, even as Chen Rulan dropped the scrap of wood he was holding and made his own forceful attack.

  Thundering Sky Strike (Lei Tian Quan – 雷天拳 )

  The elder punched at Weidao’s chest but the smaller man sidestepped, dashed away. Rulan followed, staying within a clinching range.

  Elbows, knees, punches, grappling techniques Pengfei had never seen before. Weidao blocked or dodged, threatened close-quarter cuts with the sword that forced Rulan to abandon offense. He stopped one such cut, grabbing Weidao’s wrist and raising it high overhead, then delivered a spinning back kick to the exposed torso.

  It landed, but softly. Chen Weidao again let his opponent’s force push him backward, sliding across the ground on the lightness of his qinggong. A success and a failure. An attack completed, but Weidao now had the room to properly unfold his sword techniques.

  Chen Rulan could not recover. He tried to bridge the distance, get inside the wooden sword’s sphere of attack, but short fast thrusts kept him at bay. In just a few moments, Chen Weidao was standing still, holding the point of his weapon motionless against Rulan’s throat.

  The match was over.

  ******************************************************************************

  Excitement bubbled in the crowd of disciples. Awe had kept them silent during the fight, but now the chatter boiled over with high spirited laughs and shouts. Pengfei did not contribute and looked back to see that Neng remained silent as well, eyes beaming with pride as he gazed toward his master.

  Despite all the amazing movements that defied their advanced age, the elders remained completely composed. Perhaps a hint of annoyance on the face of Chen Rulan. But neither breathed hard nor had a grey hair out of place.

  Chen Weidao now deferred to his martial brother; Rulan stepped forward and raised his hands to quiet the rowdy disciples.

  “What did you see?” Rulan asked the disciples, looking over them as if waiting for an answer.

  Finally, he continued. “Qinggong, swordsmanship, the fist. Certainly, more internal energy than you are used to. But guided by technique. Many martial artists forget that point when they have their first brush with qi. But technique is the foundation of it all.”

  “As our training intensifies, you will begin using internal energy in your bouts as well. Under our supervision.” Elder Rulan indicated himself and Chen Weidao. “In any other sect, more senior disciples would guide you through this phase of your practice. Spar with you. But you only have each other. Never violate your training partner’s trust. Always train with technique and restraint.”

  Elder Weidao nodded in quiet agreement then called an end to the training. “That’s all for today. Think carefully about what you’ve seen.”

  Pengfei didn’t need the instruction. The bout had further fueled the questions he had been asking himself. He turned to Neng.

  “What do you think martial arts are for?”

  His friend answered as if he knew exactly what was on Pengfei’s mind. “I don’t know. Maybe it can be everything at once. Violence and enlightenment. What about you?”

  “I think for now… it’s enough that I enjoy it. I’ll be right back.”

  Pengfei jogged after the elders, already leaving the training ground.

  --If you like something, it’s only natural to try and get good at it.--

  A crowd of disciples were pursuing the elders as they walked, peppering them with questions about their match, martial arts in general.

  --And the fastest way to improve is to have a teacher.--

  The disciples clustered around Chen Weidao in particular, the clear victor of the match. One of the best swordsmen in the sect, as evidenced by the recent demonstration.

  --I’ve learned a lot from him, already. But that doesn’t mean he wants me as a disciple. If anyone knows how lacking I am, it’s him.--

  Pengfei pushed his way through the mob that had surrounded Elder Weidao, rushing to ask the question before he lost his nerve. He pushed through the disciples, past them, to the solitary figure who had broken off from the rest of the group. He trotted the last few steps to catch up with old Taoist.

  --It’s worth a shot.--

  “Excuse me, Elder Rulan. May I speak with you for a moment?"