Broken Promise

Hou Liu gathered seven or eight men and hurried down the mountain with Zhang Ling. Chaos reigned behind them as they walked, muttering and pondering each word. Some, desperate to remember the character for "home," stained their hands black by writing it repeatedly with ink brushes, and some even went as far as to carve it into their skin with knives. The rest of the words were scribbled all over their clothes, so that each man was steeped in the scent of ink and parchment, their mouths ceaselessly repeating the pronunciations. If one thought another had mispronounced a word, arguments erupted in a confused clamor.

"You see, this character for 'sand' has three drops of water, so it must be related to water. But where would there be water in a desert? It must be the character for 'sand' that has stone in it."

After this muddled explanation, the others nodded in sudden enlightenment, faces full of agreement, and the speaker lifted his head in pride. Yet, as Zhang Ling walked ahead with Hou Liu, he could only sigh and shake his head.

Noticing Zhang Ling’s troubled expression, Hou Liu teased, “A scholar is destined to endure hardship. Don’t give up now!”

With sighs, they reached the official road, where more than a dozen carriages suddenly appeared before the bandits. Their bickering ceased, and they rushed forward, excitement in their shouts of "Robbery!" But as they approached the group, their bravado vanished.

Zhang Ling and Hou Liu hurried to the front, bypassing the others. There, atop their horses, sat the young man and woman, surrounded by attendants, all watching the bandits with mocking amusement. A middle-aged man stood expressionless on horseback, a blade cradled in his arms. Lying on the ground was a corpse—Wu Heizi, who had tried to act alone. The bandits of Clear Breeze Fort bowed their heads in silence. As someone moved to retrieve the body, the middle-aged man drew his blade and, with a single stroke, severed another head.

The bandits recoiled to the roadside, save for Hou Liu, who still stood tall, wishing to avenge his brother.

The middle-aged man closed his eyes and said, "If you’re unafraid of death, go ahead and try."

Hou Liu glanced around, fully aware he was no match for this man. Any rash move would endanger his brothers, and without leadership, the fort would be devoured by the other mountain strongholds of Wild Ox Mountain. Gritting his teeth, Hou Liu asked, "Who are you people?"

The man did not answer. The young man on horseback, Lu Cheng, his face radiant with pride, sneered, "Do bandits now ask their victims' names before robbing them? Planning to wipe us all out? I won’t hide it from you—these are the carriages of the Lu family from the capital. I am Lu Cheng, son of Lu Hongyan, the current Minister of Appointments. If you dare touch us today, you won’t have to wait for the official pursuit—this man beside me can find your entire fort and leave none alive."

Hou Liu’s heart trembled; he knew these were people he could no longer afford to provoke and wisely stood aside. Zhang Ling, weighing the situation, recognized the Lu family as one of the names on the list Song Yutian had given him. Looking at the two corpses and the closed-eyed man on horseback, he estimated the man was at least a second-rank master. If Song Linjie were present to hold him off, and since there were no other experts in the caravan, he was confident he could take Lu Cheng’s head.

But this would be the worst option, bringing catastrophe without benefit and dooming everyone at Clear Breeze Fort. Their journey to the capital would be ruined.

Lu Cheng shook his head. "How dull. Not one of you dares to act."

The middle-aged man called out, "Move on."

The Lu family’s carriages began to roll. Lu Cheng and the young woman led the way, and the bandits of Clear Breeze Fort could only glare after them in silence, their faces twisted with hatred yet powerless to act. Only Zhang Ling watched without expression. As Lu Cheng passed by, their eyes met. Lu Cheng’s gaze was full of disdain; Zhang Ling smiled back, but his smile held hidden menace.

Only when the Lu family’s procession disappeared did the men dare retrieve their brothers’ bodies. Zhang Ling glanced back and saw Song Linjie standing there, blade at his side. Their eyes met—Song Linjie seemed to ask, "Shall we act?" But Zhang Ling only shook his head.

Zhang Ling then took Wu Heizi’s body onto his back and started up the mountain, the others following with the second corpse.

Descending the mountain had been filled with laughter; climbing back up was steeped in silent mourning.

Once back at the fort, Zhang Ling dug the grave alone, just as he had for Snowstep before—this time, for a man. Sitting before the grave, he drank winter wine and muttered, "Disgusting."

Does it take a man utterly devoid of feeling to never know heartache?

He had promised this man he would teach him martial arts, promised Snowstep they would roam the world together. Yet thinking on this, his naturally cold heart was unmoved.

Xu Ying and Song Linjie stood behind him, silent. Hou Liu approached with a bundle of spirit money. Zhang Ling took the paper, lit it, and fed the flames before Wu Heizi’s grave, tossing more in as it burned low. He did not believe in spirits or ghosts; these rites were only the solace of the living. He did not feel he had deep ties to Wu Heizi, only a trace of guilt.

Zhang Ling said calmly, "I recall the other who died was named He Cha. Has his body been buried?"

Hou Liu lowered his head. "His family has taken him. Wu Heizi had no family here, so only I came."

Staring at the burning paper, Zhang Ling spoke coldly, "That’s good. At least, after he’s gone, no one will mourn him."

He suddenly mused aloud, "I once read there are two kinds of freedom: one where the body has no attachments, and one where the heart is unbound. But in this world, how many truly know freedom?"

Looking up, he saw the sun at its zenith. The four of them returned to the fort in silence. Only Xu Ying occasionally glanced at Song Linjie, thinking to herself he didn’t seem the fool at all. She tried addressing him as ‘Brother Fool’ but, ignored, concluded he must indeed be a fool.

Back at the fort, the men gathered for a meal. Gone was the merriment of Zhang Ling’s first arrival, with men shouting and laughing over each other, no one really listening. Now, no one spoke; each ate in silence. He Cha’s elderly mother and young son forced down their sobs, and every faint sound became painfully clear.

After the meal, Zhang Ling and Hou Liu walked together to a cliff’s edge. Night had fallen. Where once the valley below was lush and green, now nothing could be seen. The two sat on the ground, gazing into the endless darkness.

Zhang Ling suddenly asked, "Brother Hou, have you thought of avenging them?"

Hou Liu sighed, "If it were just me, I’d give my life for vengeance. But there’s a whole fort to consider—I can’t destroy them all for my sake."

Zhang Ling reflected, "The head of a household has a household’s concerns; a ruler, a country’s. No one can satisfy all needs. Even the wisest sovereign must wrong someone. That’s why so many yearn to be free wanderers, righting wrongs as they please. But reality always binds us."

Hou Liu sighed, "It’s my failing as chief that I’ve let them down."

The two fell silent. After a time, Hou Liu rose and returned, leaving Zhang Ling alone.

Suddenly, Zhang Ling reached out as if to grasp something, his eyes resolute. "Since you are held back, then I will kill for you myself."