"I suppose so," Wuyi muttered, a small comfort settling over him.
What Boluo said about fear was true; the Patriarch was worried about the future. That's why he decided to take better care of Wuyi, so Wuyi would be indebted to him. He understood properly what the patriarch wanted. If the Yuanjing clan doesn't claim him, the patriarch will use Wuyi as his henchman; a potent Yuanjing bloodline handyman would be a very powerful resource. If Yuanjing comes to claim him, he will owe a debt to the patriarch. It was a win-win for him, investing in some food and education for Wuyi.
The next fortnight brought a whirlwind of change. Boluo had him up at dawn, tubbed and scrubbed, his hair styled into a topknot. Dressed in his best, albeit outgrown, robes, Wuyi was led to the stables.
There, Boluo introduced him to his new mare, Suti—a gray, dappled beauty with a blackened mane, tail, nose, and stockings, as if she'd been playing in soot. Wuyi had hoped for a spirited gelding, but Suti was his mount instead. Sensing his disappointment, Boluo said, "You don't think she's much, do you? Well, how much of a horse did you have yesterday, Wuyi? She's with foal by Lord Tem's bay desert stallion, so treat her gently. Keben had been training her, but I think she'll suit you better."
Boluo had added an old cushion turned in to saddle for Wuyi, insisting that he prove himself a horseman before a new one would be made. Suti was responsive and smooth, a testament to Keben's training. Her temperament was like a quiet pond—calm and undemanding. Boluo watched closely, so Wuyi didn't dare try to know her mind through any means other than reins and knees. By the end of the first lesson, Wuyi was physically exhausted, but that didn't excuse him from the responsibilities of cleaning and feeding Suti, and tending to cushioned saddles and harnesses.
Only when every tangle was out of Suti's mane and the old leather shone with oil was Wuyi allowed to go to the kitchens and eat. Despite the whirlwind of changes, Wuyi had found a strange comfort in taking care of the mare, a sense of calm it brought to him. He understood why Boluo liked taking care of beasts; even in his free time, the beasts were good therapy.
Wuyi was about to dart away to the kitchen's back door to have his fulfilling meal when Boluo's firm hand landed on his shoulder. "No more of that for you," Boluo declared. "You eat in the hall with the nobility and their special servants now."
Boluo guided him into a dimly lit room filled with a long table and an array of foods. With the Lords and Ladies absent, the atmosphere was informal. Boluo nudged Wuyi to a spot on the left side of the table, above the midpoint but not by much. Hungry and undeterred by the gazes around him, Wuyi quickly devoured a large meal. His thoughts drifted to a sunny embankment where he often spent afternoons with the hounds, not doing anything after a hectic morning; he could use some rest between the hounds, but his reverie was interrupted.
"Master?" A boy, taller and older than Wuyi, stood behind him. "Have you finished eating?"
Confused, Wuyi nodded. The boy informed him that he was expected for weapons practice, sent by someone named Huo. Boluo appeared beside Wuyi, astonishing him by kneeling to straighten his robe and smooth his hair.
"Don't look so startled," Boluo said. "Did you think the Lord was not a man of his word? Hurry along with Bangte. Huo is a sterner master than I am."
With curiosity, Wuyi followed Bangte out of the hall. Once outside, Bangte's demeanor changed.
"What's your name?" he demanded as they walked down the cobblestone pathway.
Wuyi pretended to be interested in the shrubbery, avoiding the question. Bangte snorted. "Well, they got to call you something. What's old Boluo call you?"
Surprised by Bangte's disdain for Boluo, Wuyi found himself blurting out his name. "He calls me Wuyi."
"Wuyi? As in Bastard?" Bangte snickered. "Direct spoken is the old gimper."
Feeling stung by Bangte's mockery, calling him gimper, Wuyi felt compelled to defend Boluo. "A desert beast savaged his leg," he explained, as if Boluo's limp were a badge of honor rather than a point of ridicule.
Bangte snorted disdainfully as they walked. "I know all about Boluo's leg. They say it was a low-grade spirit beast that nearly took the lives of young ones who were visiting from the noble north. Boluo was supposed to watch them in the desert, so he intervened. He took the bad fortune meant for the young nobles and turned it into a lame leg for himself. That's what the men say. The beast used its Qi, tainted with dark essence, to harm him; that's why the gimper is never going to heal fully."
Just as Wuyi was absorbing Bangte's words, the older boy suddenly rounded on him, causing Wuyi to stumble backward. Bangte laughed mockingly. "So, you're Boluo's new pet, eh? Why the sudden arms training and a horse?"
Wuyi got a feedback of rising hostility in Bangte, akin to entering a wolf's territory unannounced. Just as he was contemplating whether to run, a portly figure dressed in gray appeared behind Bangte, gripping the back of his neck firmly.
"The Patriarch said he's to have training and a horse, and that's enough for me, and should be for you, Bangte," the woman said, her voice stern. "Now go report to Master Gimi. He has errands for you."
Bangte's defiance melted into agreement. "Yes, my lady."
The woman turned her attention to Wuyi. "You, boy. Follow me."
Without waiting for a response, she set out across the open practice fields, her pace brisk. Wuyi had to trot to keep up. The desert sun beat down on his shoulders, and he began to sweat almost instantly. Yet the woman seemed unfazed by the heat.
She was garbed in varying shades of gray: a charcoal-hued robe, ashen leggings, and a slate-colored leather apron that extended almost to her ankles. Wuyi deduced she must be a caretaker of gardens or herbs, although her gray shoes, more akin to indoor footwear, perplexed him.
Wuyi panted as they reached the shade of the weapons pavilion, grateful for the respite from the sun's glare. "I've been sent for lessons... with Huo," he managed to say.
The woman nodded curtly and pushed open the door to the weapons pavilion, revealing a gentle half-light and a slight coolness that mingled with the smell of wood, sweat, and fresh strewn reeds. "Choose a weapon," she instructed, pointing to a rack filled with weapons.
"Shouldn't I wait for Huo?" Wuyi asked timidly.
"I am Huo," she replied, her voice tinged with impatience. "Now pick one. I want to see what you're made of before the others arrive."
Wuyi went ahead and picked up a broad-bladed sword.
It didn't take long for Master Huo to establish that Wuyi was inexperienced and easily intimidated. After a few parries, she disarmed him with a swift strike, sending his blade spinning from his hands.
"Hm," she muttered, neither harshly nor kindly, as if inspecting a slightly wilted lotus root. Wuyi cautiously extended his Statue of Harmony energy toward her, finding her mind as quiet as the mare's had been. Relieved to find no hostility, he refrained from probing further.
"What are you called?" Master Huo demanded abruptly.
"Wuyi," he responded, standing a bit straighter and speaking louder.
She flinched slightly. "Typical of Boluo to call a bastard a bastard. Well, Wuyi it is. Now, let me show you why the blade you chose was unsuitable."
Wuyi wanted to defend Boluo, that it was not him who named him, but then decided against it. There was nothing to be gained from it.
Master Huo proceeded to explain the intricacies of selecting the right weapon, and Wuyi listened attentively. Just as they were finishing, the rest of her students arrived. There were four of them, all close to Wuyi's age but far more experienced. The new dynamic created an awkwardness. With an odd number of students, no one seemed eager to have the newcomer as a sparring partner. But Master Huo, ever the observant instructor, seemed to take it all in stride.
She then guided him through an exercise that initially for the first hour seemed complex but soon felt simple, not because it was simple to do so, but because his cheat started helping him. Whenever Wuyi practiced, the Valor Statue activated in the chamber, as if giving him support. The energy from the statue would seep into his muscles, helping him build muscle memory for the weapons training.
Wuyi survived the day's training. Even with the statue's assistance, his muscles ached as he limped back to the fortress, trailing behind the other students. The hall was crowded and noisy, and he was too weary to eat much. A bowl of congee and a steamed bun were all he managed before he thought of retreating to the warmth and quiet of the stables. Just as he was about to leave, Bangte accosted him.
"Your chamber is ready," Bangte announced.
Wuyi shot a look toward Boluo, who was engrossed in conversation and didn't notice him. Reluctantly, he followed Bangte up a wide flight of granite stairways adorned with intricate carvings into an unfamiliar part of the fortress. They paused on a landing where Bangte lit a lantern.
"The Lord's family lives down this wing; beyond that is the clan treasury. Never go near the treasury, even by mistake, or you will be punished," Bangte informed him, gesturing down a hallway. "The Lord has a chamber as big as the stable at the end."
Wuyi nodded, taking in the information. They ascended another flight of steps, narrower this time. "Visitors get rooms here," Bangte said, waving the lantern, its flames flickering. "Important ones, that is."
Finally, they reached another landing and went down a new wing. Three doors down, Bangte slid a latch on a plank door and pushed it open. "This chamber hasn't been used in a while," he observed. "But now it's yours, and you're welcome to it." He set the lantern on a chest and left, pulling the heavy door closed behind him.
Wuyi was left in the semi-darkness of a large, unfamiliar room. He took up the lantern and lit the wall-mounted lanterns, driving the shadows back into the corners. There was a brazier with a feeble fire, which he poked for more light than heat. In the beginning, Wuyi was surprised at the fact that people needed braziers in the desert where it was so hot, but the cold desert nights told him how important they were. The room was a simple square with a single window and stone walls. A scroll painting hung on one wall, depicting a nobleman in deep meditation before a dragon. It seemed menacing to him.
He turned away from the painting, contemplating his new surroundings. It was a lot to take in, this sudden change, and he felt a mixture of apprehension and loneliness. But this was his new reality, and he would have to adapt, whether he liked it or not.
Someone had made a cursory attempt to freshen the room. Fresh reeds
and aromatic herbs were scattered on the stone floor, and a plush bed looked inviting. Two good silk quilts lay on it, and the silk drapes had been drawn back. The room also contained a polished bench with a cushion and an intricately carved chest for storage. To Wuyi, who had only seen poverty in this world so far, the room seemed luxurious. The idea that all these furnishings were for his exclusive use made them seem even grander. He sighed; if it were the past world, he wouldn't even blink at them, but now they seemed like royal luxury to him.
He added a piece of wood to the brazier and noted the shuttered window with a seat before it, probably offering a view of the sea.
There was a chest, simple but elegant, adorned with metal fittings. Upon opening it, Wuyi found his limited wardrobe transferred from the stables. Two new sleeping robes and a blanket had been added. He took out a robe and closed the chest.
Setting the robe on the bed, Wuyi climbed up. Though it was early, his body ached from the day's exertions, and there seemed little else to do. He missed the familiar atmosphere of the stable room where Boluo would be sitting by now, mending harnesses and enjoying a drink. The room would be filled with the comforting scents of leather, oil, and wine, not the musty smell of stone and dust that filled this chamber. Whether he liked it or not, Boluo had become part of his habit; he could sleep in peace knowing that his ferocious guardian was there to watch over him.
Wuyi pulled the robe over his head and pushed his clothes to the foot of the bed. He settled into the bed, initially cold but slowly warming with his body heat. Every muscle ached, and he felt drained.
He knew he should extinguish the lanterns, but he couldn't muster the strength or the will to plunge the room into deeper darkness. Instead, he lay there, half-lidded eyes watching the flickering flames in the brazier.
As he drowsed, he found himself idly sitting in the sacred chamber, looking at the statue of Valor, which was glowing; it seemed the more he practiced weapons or martial arts, the more it glowed.
He had felt its power today.
Wuyi wanted to experiment to see what else the statue could do, but he was exhausted. He yearned for a restfulness he couldn't quite remember but felt he had once known. And so, enveloped in his thoughts and the semi-darkness of the chamber, Wuyi drowsed into the oblivion of sleep.
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