Part 1. Ch 3. Ill tidings

Bird calls heralded the sound of the morning as Fan Zhong blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Around him lay Fan Yong and others who had spent the night drinking and catching up on past times, the sight brought a smile to his face. Truly such a night had been necessary to replenish his soul, he felt as if everything that had drained out of him during the week of training was now restored!

Picking his way carefully across the VIP room, Fan Zhong slipped out the door, taking in the fresh morning air and sounds of life awakening from slumber. Perhaps his family's training-crazed mentality had rubbed off on him or maybe it was simply a habit that had begun to form from the last week, in any case, Fan Zhong felt full of restless energy that needed to be expended.

As such, he began running, following the trails that led out of the village and into the surrounding forest, taking only a brief moment to nod at the guards before sprinting past them. Running through these paths evoked memories of his younger years spent in awe of the vast shoots of bamboo and plant life. Years came to mind of days when it seemed that his family had more time and had all simply enjoyed the company of one another. Nowadays it felt as if he hardly ever saw his older brother, current circumstances aside, as he was usually with their father learning to deal with clan business or off on some assignment for the clan.

His younger brother, Fan Jia, was now 11. Upon turning 10 he had entered the academy and now the time the boy wasn't training with the clan warriors was spent studiously learning the very lessons that Fan Zhong had. No longer did he have time to attend his older brother's music recitals or play tag in the forest.

His sister, Fan Jingyi, had been equally unavailable and she was even younger than him, only 12 this year! However, their mother had insisted that the family techniques the observers practiced required her to start diligently honing them from a very young age. As such, from the time his sister could barely walk she had spent most of her time secluded away in mother's training compound outside the western walls of the village where she trained all the clan's aspiring observers.

In his younger years, Fan Zhong had been truly perplexed by the occupation his mother and sister fulfilled, a person who practiced techniques to see the strength of others. On top of that, village and clan leaders alike paid great sums of money for observers to monitor those that came in and out of their settlements, carefully reporting any of those who were in high martial arts realms. Being older now, he felt a better understanding of why one may not want high-strength martial artists entering the village unannounced, who knew what kind of nefarious plots people who hid their strength were up to?

As such it made some deal of sense why there were those dedicated to the craft of detecting the realm of others, though it still baffled him why they were valued so highly. So what if you could tell how strong someone was? If you couldn't fight them and they had evil intentions, then you could only run!

In Fan Zhong's eyes, he saw little value in much else other than telling when someone was stronger than him. Life had made this a simple task with his natural talent for martial arts, it had taken a genius like his brother to teach him the basic skills he currently possessed. How would he ever be powerful without such guidance? Fan Zhong knew the answer to who was stronger than him, the answer was everyone.

This did not cause him much distress, it actually made life very simple. When posed with a violent altercation he had a single response, run! Simply another reason his training was so vexing for him, it complicated this matter greatly.

Now, he would have to assess those situations by actually giving them thought. If he simply chose to run after being trained in his family's martial ways, this was simply smacking the face of his ancestors!

Although he was considered the wasteful Young Master of the Fan Clan, personally insulting his heritage was another matter altogether, this would be an offense that could not be forgiven! It was not as if the clan would ask him to throw his life away on a whim, they would simply ask that he stood his ground unless he was completely outclassed. In their eyes, this was simply giving face to the clan, a proud warrior of the Fan clan running without putting up a fight was a great shame.

To complete his training he would have to at least be a Third-Grade martial artist to receive his elder brother's and father's approval. At that point, there would be no way he could not be considered a true and proper warrior of the clan. Responsibilities would then be thrust upon him, ones he truly had no wish to uptake but simply had no choice in the matter. What was it his father had told him?

"Death is as heavy as the mountains, duty, however, bears the weight of the heavens. Mind your duty carefully as it is that which gives us the luxury to live the way we do." His father had said, standing in that same frustratingly heroic and stoic pose that he always managed to be in.

Thinking of his father brought mixed feelings to his heart, on one hand, deep pride and respect came forth. On the other, he felt a deep bitterness that ate away at his soul. From the first moments, he could remember his father, Fan Long, was as immovable and stoic as the mountains. However, drawing recognition from him for anything other than martial prowess was like trying to wring blood from a stone. He was not cruel, not intentionally in any case, and treated all of his children with an equal measure of care and understanding.

However, it was obvious to Fan Zhong that his father was a martial artist who walked the paths of the martial way through and through, there was no place in his heart for the arts of music or other entertainment. When Fan Zhong had improved his calligraphy at a young age his father had shown outward approval, however, that was it. No great work of calligraphy, nor epic poem and song recited on his lute had ever truly moved his father, ever truly made him proud.

Fan Zhong had simply never seen the spark of pride in his father's eyes, the spark that he had shown whenever his older brother advanced his martial arts. Unfilial feelings vexed Fan Zhong's heart, he knew this was an unkindness he did to his father, Fan Long deserved no blame for injustices he did not commit.

There was a deep part of his soul that resented that, it smoldered and burned with an ember of hatred. Was nothing he could do enough? What of playing in the imperial courts or wooing the daughter of the Baroness? Writing music that would make immortals weep and cry? Why could he not be acknowledged for his merits, instead of faking an interest in martial training in which he held no interest?

With a deep breath Fan Zhong smothered these thoughts, they were truly unfair thoughts to have. He had never been criticized for his lack of interest in the martial path. His father had never once been unfair to him; however, deep down, Fan Zhong knew there were greedy parts of him that wanted more than respectful observation. Perhaps these were the legendary 'Heart Demons' that immortals faced when overcoming tribulations, unresolved feelings from their mortal lives that would shake the foundations of their cultivation.

These thoughts make cracks in their worldview that would grow, allowing a distorted version of themselves to fester in their minds until it killed their normal consciousness and took over their bodies to rampage endlessly, causing untold misery with their great power. In the stories the glorious heroes always struggled with their heart demons however, at the last moment they would have enlightenment! The truths of the Eternal Dao would be revealed to them through some revelation and from the jaws of defeat they would seize victory while destroying the demons in their heart in the same breath.

Following this, they would breakthrough and ascend to unimaginable heights of power sweeping away all evil and dominating all directions! Fan Zhong wondered if he was truly such a good person, if a day came when the greediest and most insidious parts of his soul were marshaled against him, would he have the strength of character to deny them? They would promise him all of the things ever denied to him, the luxuries of the greatest immortal palaces, the melodies only heard in the vaunted halls of the highest gods.

The admiration of those who disdained him, and yes, the pride and respect of his father. When all you ever wanted was so directly offered, what gave a man the strength of character to resist? To cut all mortal ties, resist all emotions, and forsake the things one always desired. Fan Zhong thought it would take a better man than him to accomplish such a thing.

At the very least it would take a much different person than the Fan Zhong that existed today. Suddenly, he was awoken from his deep contemplation by the sound of many footsteps approaching. Looking around him and it seemed he had stumbled into the dense bamboo and foliage approaching one of the main trails.

Exactly how far had he run? Judging from the sun, which was now high in the sky, it had not been a short run, however, he felt no tiredness nor shortage of breath. Pushing the thought from mind ahead on the trail he spotted a group of five figures wearing the traditional robes of the Wang clan running from a dozen figures cloaked in shadowy black robes with pure jade white masks covering their faces. The situation looked grim with the black-robed pursuers gaining on the Wang clan group.

Scanning the figures, Fan Zhong recognized Wang Qiang among them. The Wang clan was a neutral force that traded with almost all of the groups in the valley, it baffled Fan Zhong to think someone would be openly attacking them. What would be the point? Even the Wei clan, who were apparently having tax negotiations with the Wang according to Fan Yong, had no reason to openly attack them.

If they wanted to suppress the Wang it would be a simple matter of denying and suppressing them economically, what reason was there to murder in the open and expose such ugly business? While contemplating this Fan Zhong rushed into the road between the two groups.

"Who dares attack the allies of my Fan Clan so close to Little Green Bamboo Village, stop at once!" Fan Zhong gave all of them the most authority-infused tone glare he could muster.

Inwardly, he was incredibly scared of this group, as any one of them could gut him like a freshly caught fish. However, this was Fan Clan territory, how could a son of the clan leader allow something like this to happen right in front of his eyes?

"Brother Zhong?" Wang Qiang stared at him in incredulity, seeming to not believe his eyes. "It's no use, these men have already killed most of my party, we started with twenty and now only we remain. We must make haste and flee before their reinforcements catch up."

Fan Zhong hesitated in confusion and bewilderment. Who were these people to ignore the face of his clan in its own territory? One had to know the Fan clan had a wide reputation in the valley for being full of crouching tigers and hidden dragons.

Although they were the rulers of no vast amount of territory their warriors' effectiveness spoke for itself and many village leaders would pay handsome amounts for their services. This wasn't even speaking of the deadly Fan clan observers who practiced the assassination arts to complement their mental techniques. Rumors said that under cover of night one of them could equal half a dozen fighters of similar realm and technique.

Such a fearsome reputation is what had allowed Fan Zhong to enjoy a peaceful life and let the clan peddle their services all through the valley without fear of being targeted. Paying no heed to reputation or rumor the black-robed group did not pause for even a moment continuing to rush forward. Suddenly, one of them drew and threw a flying dagger in one blurring fast motion, a barely visible string trailed behind it attached to a notch on the hilt.

The dagger struck home burying itself in Wang Qiang's leg as he howled with pain causing all of his companions to stop, their faces darkening. With their prey now wounded the masked pursuers seemed to speed up, as if smelling that blood had been drawn. The one with the flying dagger withdrew it, preparing to attack again. With a sigh, the four Wang clan martial artists slowed and began forming a battle formation between the two youths and the oncoming enemies.

"Young Master Fan Zhong, please bring Nephew Qiang to safety. We will buy you as much time as we can. Hurry, I fear these old bones won't be able to rest easy if the two of you die here today" The Wang clan martial artist spoke softly as he began to draw his sword and turn to face the enemy.

Alongside him, the rest of the remaining Wang clan martial artists drew their weapons, a mix of spears with nets attached to one end as well as swords and daggers. Each one of them faced the attackers with eyes as peaceful as the calmest sea. Fan Zhong examined the man who spoke to him, he looked to be the same age as his father, however, Fan Zhong knew better. The man's martial realm was simply too low to be that old, however, as the Wang clan martial artists walked to what was assuredly their death, they gave off that same stoic air as his father.

It was as if their duty truly carried the weight of heaven, the sensation raised the hairs on Fan Zhong's neck as the air around them seemed to vibrate. Burning tears threatened to loose from his eyes, sorrow filling his heart at the sight of their grim determination. Quickly, he slung Wang Qiang's arm over his shoulder, beginning to drag him into the forest the way he had come. He had decided that with them moving slower he would need to use the terrain to his advantage.

"Brother Zhong… No, you can't leave them! Please, brother Zhong, I beg you!! Uncles, come back!!!" Wang Qiang screamed and fought with Fan Zhong the entire way, however, they both understood the truth.

If a master realm martial artist of the Fan clan had been present, perhaps the entire situation might change. A high realm martial artist could do such things, upturning heaven and earth and disdaining many foes at once. Unfortunately, even if Wang Qiang's uncles were Second-Grade martial artists who were truly masters among normal men, against such numbers their defeat was a forgone conclusion without even considering reinforcements.

It would be the luck of the heavens if he and Wang Qiang lived through the day, let alone the ones who had gone head-on to face the enemy. Slowly Wang Qiang stopped fighting him and started limping along, assisting their speed greatly. The thick bamboo and foliage that had seemed so alive and vibrant suddenly became a harrowing place filled with shadows.

In every shadow lay a cold blade, every snapped twig or rustled leaf heralded one of their pursuers closing in. The once warm air seemed to cool, cutting ruthlessly down his throat as Fan Zhong gasped increasingly more for air as the pair moved along with as much speed as they could muster. High in the sky, the sun seemed to laugh and jeer at his stupidity, a worthless Young Master indeed, about to die so close to home.

How could he come so far from the village without an escort? Thinking of this Fan Zhong wondered just how far he had come in his jogging, his inner contemplation had made the time seem to fly by and he truly had little idea how far away they were. At that moment he saw a clearing ahead that stretched as far as his eye could see, a field of grass that housed a single tree, the sight caused him to gape.

This was the Field of Shifting Grass, a place the observers of the clan came to train. They would sit in the tree and others would attempt to approach them stealthily in the tall grass. He had only been here once, with his mother, to pick up Fan Jingyi after the senior observers had finished a special training exercise with her; it was how he knew that they were about an hour's walk from the village.

Despair threatened to cloud his heart and make him drop to his knees; however, one look at Wang Qiang on his shoulder filled him with the energy to continue, he would save his friend! Moving to the tree, Fan Zhong used the hand holds the observers had placed to haul Wan Qiang into the spotters' nest that was arranged among the branches. Once there, he took a belt knife from the other boy's belt and used it to cut strips from his robes. After some time he had arranged a makeshift bandage around the wound in the other youth's leg, enough to stop the bleeding at least.

With this done, Fan Zhong closed his eyes and centered himself in the way his mother had once taught him. At a young age, all Fan clan members are tested for compatibility with the mental techniques of observers and Fan Zhong had been no exception. To do this the youths were taught a simple mental exercise to clear their mind and told to carefully observe a container which was then upturned with grains of rice in it.

This test starts with only 10 or so grains of rice in the container and repeats ten times increasing the number of rice grains by 10 or so each time until there were around 100 grains of rice in the container. Of course, the amount varied by less or more each time so the exact number was not known beforehand. Each time the test happened every youth that could correctly count the grains of falling rice passed, and others were weeded out.

In this way, if a Fan clan youth exceeded the eighth test they were immediately offered a position as a core disciple of the clan observers. Those that could pass the seventh test were able to join as inner disciples. If one could pass the sixth test they were able to join as outer disciples with those that were able to pass the fifth test having the choice to be accepted as temporary disciples who would have to pass a test after one year to become full outer disciples or be cut from the observer training program.

Fan Zhong had passed the fifth test, showing mediocre results. However, today, his sense's felt exceptionally sharp. He felt as if he could see every detail of the Flowing Grass Field. At that moment Fan Zhong took out a paper talisman his father had once given him.

It was something that was incredibly expensive and he was told to only use it when his life depended on it. Earlier, when he had thought they were closer to the village, the talisman had been far from his mind now…

Without hesitation, he tore the talisman in half and threw the pieces upward. Immediately the air around him seemed to rush out in all directions just like it did when his father and brother expelled the Qi they had gathered. In a flash, the pieces flew off toward the direction of the village, leaving Fan Zhong with only the sound of the wind and rustling leaves. Focusing, he tuned his awareness to the world around him. If this were like the stories, he would be the hero, gaining a new understanding from this event that allowed him to breakthrough a bottleneck and in so doing destroy all the foes that came through the night, protecting Wang Qiang and returning triumphant!

However, all Fan Zhong could feel was the wind rushing around him and the sound of swaying tall grass. Like this, an eternity seemed to pass before Fan Zhong spotted a black-robed figure entering the field from the same direction he and Wang Qiang had come from. The figure stalked around the field seeming to move without disturbing the tall grass he passed through.

Malice spewed from the robed assailant as they searched in a crisscrossing pattern, scouring every area for them. Fan Zhong was impressed, had he not been observing from the tree he would be none the wiser about the approaching assailant.

"Do the vaunted Fan and Wang enjoy cowering in the shadows like rats? I suppose with dogs such as these the master must be trash as well." The black-robed figure bellowed, revealing the deep voice of an older man.

As the man shouted, he waved what seemed to be a lump of something that dangled in his hands. It took Fan Zhong a moment to recognize the head of the Wang clan martial artist who had promised to buy him time.

" Hmph, not even honorable enough to avenge your men, sons of whores the lot of you." The disgust in his voice rose as the man threw the severed head at the tree.

Somehow, his body seemed to move itself and Fan Zhong found himself on the ground catching the head and slowly lowering it to the ground, meeting the eyes of the pursuer with all of the anger and spite he could conjure.

"Hehe, I'll give you credit boy, you have honor. Although it seems today, that is to my favor instead of yours." The black-robed man cackled behind the jade-white mask he wore, leveling his sword at Fan Zhong.

Fan Zhong assumed the martial stance his brother had taught him once again bringing to bear a formless pressure from the perfection Fan Cheng had drilled into his technique. His assailant was no village bully, however, and he didn't even hesitate at the feeling. Instead, he chose to feint forward with an ascending diagonal cut before turning it into a side-stepping thrust that aimed for Fan Zhong's heart. Panic swelled in his heart and Fan Zhong lost all of his martial poise stumbling to the side and almost falling forward.

Desperately he righted himself while pivoting on his heel to face his opponent, wincing at the pain caused by the blade running across his side, narrowly missing his heart. Shakely, Fan Zhong once again resumed his stance, his opponent and him having traded places in the exchange. Now his back was to the field and his opponent's back was to the tree.

"All bark and no bite eh? No fun at all, guess I'll end this quickly then." With these words the masked martial artist raised his sword in an incredibly formal salute and blurred into motion, his entire demeanor changing as if a sword was being drawn from its sheath.

In an instant the world froze, all that Fan Zhong could feel were the yawning jaws of death. It was as simple as that, no mistake, a vastly superior opponent had decided to kill him and so he would die. At that moment Fan Zhong remembered his brother's advancement ceremony to the master realm, during that ceremony his father had asked Fan Cheng to show a single technique that encompassed his understanding of the clan's martial arts.

A single palm strike, the simplest one that even Fan Zhong knew, was the foundation technique of the clan 'All Things Birthed from the Origin'.

It was a simple technique requiring the user to simply strike forward and slam a palm into the opponent's dantian, slightly above the belly button, meant to disrupt the breathing and qi control of the enemy. When Fan Cheng had performed this simple palm technique the world had seemed to freeze, as it did now. That instant the entire world condensed into his elder brother's palm as he pressed it into the huge boulder.

After that, there was only a light rumble as the massive boulder simply disintegrated into dust. Fan Zhong had seen his father's eyes full of so much pride it threatened to scour his existence from the earth. All of the approval he had ever sought was right in front of him and it had been given to his brother.

That pain gathered and smoldered, his envy coalescing upon his hand as Fan Zhong met the eyes of the man about to kill him.

"Duty bears the weight of the heavens?" Fan Zhong sneered inwardly, the thought resounding in his mind "Then experience this, in my death, experience the weight of the duty I disdained in life!"

Taking all the feelings of duty, guilt, anger, and fear, Fan Zhong threw himself forward into his opponent's guard a hair out of the path of the blade. The edge kissed his skin as it parted his robe like water. All around the air shook as a single palm strike rang true with the 'All Things Birthed from the Origin'; technique hitting the black-robed man right above his belly button, exactly as the strike was meant to be delivered.

The blow struck with a strength that should have been impossible given Fan Zhong's martial arts cultivation, killing his opponent instantly as the force ran through the man's energy channels utterly destroying him from the inside out. Having given it his all, he walked over to the tree which now had a corpse laying at the base, and slumped down beside the dead man. Darkness slowly overtook his vision and he fell into a deep sleep.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fan Zhong came to his senses and barely managed to raise his head. Immediately, he spotted six black-robed figures who looked worse for wear with tears on their robes, some gaped at the sight of him others glared at him with angry glares. Judging from the sun's setting position it had been roughly an hour since his duel with the first assailant.

There were no words exchanged, blades flew from sheaths and the attackers rushed on, killing intent radiating from them. As the blades approached a figure landed in front of Fan Zhong, a cruel silver light flashed out in an arc forcing all the attackers away and sending out a shockwave that flattened all the tall grass in the field for a moment. Suddenly an enormous pressure descended upon the clearing as the figure clothed in an ephemeral cloak unveiled its power, letting loose an aura that felt like the wrath of heaven descending from the sky.

Before the darkness once again took him the last thing Fan Zhong remembered seeing was the radiating silver moons that were his mother's rage-filled eyes.…