Chapter 4: A Brotherhood Forged in Bruises and Bravado
In which fists speak louder than words, and one angry young cultivator discovers that being stronger on paper is worth very little.
Caelan stood on the tiled roof overlooking one of the private training courtyards of the Jinwu Clan, chewing on the wooden stick that had once supported an ice pop.
Below him, Jinwu Ren attacked a training construct as though it had personally insulted his ancestors.
Which, Caelan supposed, was one way to practice.
Ren was six months older than him.
He was also already at the Second Stage of Foundation Establishment.
Neither fact impressed Caelan very much.
The wooden construct blurred beneath Ren's fists. Fire rolled over his arms in short bursts, golden-red and violent, each strike landing with enough force to crack reinforced stone beneath the construct's feet. His movements were fast. Precise enough. Aggressive.
Too aggressive.
His shoulders announced his attacks before his fists did. His stance remained just a little too rigid. Whenever he gained an advantage, he pressed harder instead of wondering why the advantage had appeared.
Caelan bit through the ice-pop stick.
Still thinking like somebody afraid of losing.
That was probably the boy's problem.
Everyone knew Jinwu Ren's older brother.
That alone seemed sufficient reason to be angry.
The older boy was the sort of talent clans produced once in generations and then spent the next fifty years mentioning at dinner. Everything Ren accomplished came with an invisible question attached.
How did his brother do at that age?
Worse, Ren's own Jinwu bloodline had yet to awaken to a level his clan considered satisfactory.
Second Stage Foundation.
Excellent results.
Strong body.
Good combat talent.
And still somehow standing in somebody else's shadow.
Caelan could understand why that might make a person unpleasant.
He rather liked unpleasant people.
They were rarely boring.
Beside him, Lyra Valtheris sat with her crimson hair moving lazily in the wind.
She watched Ren destroy another construct.
"You're staring."
"Observing."
"You've been observing him for twenty minutes."
Caelan looked at her.
"That's usually how observing works."
Lyra ignored that.
"You want him for your group?"
"Maybe."
Below, Ren drove his fist through the construct's chest.
The formation reconstructed it immediately.
Ren hit it again.
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"He seems friendly."
"He's delightful."
"He looks like he wants to murder the wooden man."
"The wooden man probably compared him to his brother."
Lyra glanced at him.
Caelan grinned.
Then looked back down.
The Heavenly Flame Sect encouraged disciples to form groups as they grew. Not collections of identical fighters competing for the same place, but people whose strengths covered one another's weaknesses.
Caelan intended to form one eventually.
That required people.
People were unfortunately the most difficult part.
And Ren interested him.
Not because Caelan thought he could fight him.
He couldn't.
None of the people their age could.
That was the problem.
Destiny's Chosen had rather firm opinions on the matter.
Anyone at Caelan's level or weaker simply could not attack him.
The destiny in which they made the attempt ceased to exist.
It made fighting people his own age extraordinarily dull.
Caelan normally sparred with older disciples.
Third Stage Foundation at minimum.
Preferably higher.
At least those people could hit him.
Ren could not.
But Caelan hadn't come here looking for a good fight.
He had come looking for something else.
Potential, perhaps.
Or entertainment.
The two overlapped surprisingly often.
He dropped from the roof.
Lyra sighed.
Then followed.
Ren's fist stopped an inch from the reconstructed training dummy.
Someone had landed behind him.
He turned.
Golden hair.
Blue-and-white clothes.
A smile that immediately made Ren dislike its owner.
Recognition came a second later.
His expression soured further.
"Caelan Ardyn."
Caelan raised one hand.
"Good. Saves introductions."
Ren looked past him toward Lyra.
Then back.
"What do you want?"
"To talk."
"No."
Caelan blinked.
"That was efficient."
"Leave."
"I haven't asked anything yet."
"I don't care."
Caelan considered him for a moment.
Then smiled.
"How about a spar?"
Ren stared at him.
The silence lasted several seconds.
Then his face twisted.
"Are you mocking me?"
"A little."
Fire flickered around Ren's fingers.
Then stopped.
Not because he changed his mind.
His body simply refused to continue.
Caelan saw the exact moment he realized it.
The fingers trembled.
The Ki remained.
The anger remained.
The intention remained.
But the action had nowhere to go.
Destiny had removed the road.
Ren's jaw tightened.
Caelan smiled wider.
"There it is."
Ren tried again.
His arm moved—
toward nothing.
The moment the strike became an attack against Caelan, the motion died.
Ren stared at his own hand.
"So the rumors are true."
"Most of the interesting ones."
"Destiny's Chosen."
"Yes."
Ren's expression darkened.
"You challenge me knowing I can't attack you?"
"I said spar. I didn't say it would be fair."
Lyra covered her face with one hand.
Ren's eyes narrowed.
"You're an ass."
"People keep telling me that."
Caelan stepped closer.
Ren did not retreat.
Good.
That earned him something.
Not respect.
Caelan was stingy with that.
Interest.
"You're Second Foundation," Caelan said.
"And you're First."
"Yes."
"You think you're stronger than me?"
"I know I am."
Fire flared around Ren again.
Once more, it could go nowhere.
Caelan laughed.
That did not improve Ren's mood.
"You want to prove me wrong?"
Ren stared at him.
Caelan spread his hands.
"Figure it out."
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then Ren looked at the courtyard.
At the stone.
At the training constructs.
At Caelan.
Something changed behind his eyes.
Caelan saw it.
And smiled.
There you go.
Ren turned suddenly and drove his heel into the ground.
The courtyard exploded.
Stone shattered upward.
Fragments screamed through the air.
Caelan moved.
Wind curled around his feet and he stepped between the flying debris, body sliding through the storm with effortless precision.
Ren saw him dodge.
His eyes widened.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't a pleasant smile.
"Oh."
Caelan's grin sharpened.
Ren had found hope.
Poor bastard.
Ren slammed both palms toward the ground.
Fire erupted across the stones—not aimed at Caelan, but at the courtyard around him.
The floor cracked.
Heat rolled upward.
Fragments burst from beneath Caelan's feet.
Caelan stepped aside.
A chunk of stone passed his cheek.
Ren laughed.
"You moved."
"I did."
"So indirect attacks work."
Caelan said nothing.
That was all the encouragement Ren needed.
Fire tore through the courtyard.
He stopped trying to attack Caelan.
Instead he attacked everything around him.
Stone.
Walls.
Training posts.
Constructs.
The ground itself.
A column collapsed toward Caelan.
He slipped beneath it.
Ren blasted another support apart.
Caelan jumped over the falling debris.
Ren accelerated.
For the first time since Caelan had arrived, the anger in his movements stopped looking restrained.
He wasn't striking at a training construct anymore.
He was trying to solve a problem.
Caelan liked problems.
Especially when they hit back.
Ren kicked a broken slab upward and punched it.
Stone fragments exploded toward Caelan.
Caelan tilted his head.
One passed his ear.
Another sliced through a strand of golden hair.
Ren's grin widened.
"Got you."
"No."
The word came from behind him.
Ren froze.
Caelan's palm touched his back.
Then Ren learned what the ground tasted like.
He struck hard enough to bounce.
The courtyard formation flashed, taking the worst of the impact.
Ren rolled immediately.
Good instinct.
Caelan's foot came down where his ribs had been.
The stone cratered.
Ren swept his leg.
Not at Caelan.
At a broken training pole.
The pole spun through the air.
Caelan ducked.
Ren was already moving.
A blast of flame struck the ground behind Caelan and exploded outward.
Caelan stepped through the smoke.
Ren's eyes lost him.
That was unfortunate.
A fist landed gently against his stomach.
Gently by Caelan's standards.
Ren folded around it.
The air left his lungs.
Caelan caught him by the shoulder before he fell.
"Come on."
Ren snarled.
Caelan threw him across the courtyard.
Ren hit the ground, rolled three times and came up on one knee.
Blood touched the corner of his mouth.
Caelan stood exactly where he had been.
Smiling.
"Again."
Ren's eyes burned.
Lyra watched from the roof.
She had seen Caelan fight training constructs.
She had seen the speed hidden beneath his casual movements.
She had watched him train beneath weights that made her question what this universe considered a reasonable childhood.
This was different.
He was playing.
That was obvious.
Ren was fighting seriously.
Caelan was enjoying himself.
There was something almost cruel in the difference.
Ren shattered the courtyard around him, searching for ways around an ability that refused to let him directly attack Caelan.
And Caelan kept giving him just enough.
A dodge.
A sudden movement.
A narrow escape.
A fragment passing close enough to convince Ren he had nearly succeeded.
Hope.
Then pain.
Hope again.
Then considerably more pain.
Lyra narrowed her eyes.
"He's doing that deliberately."
Caelan avoided another shower of shattered stone.
Ren followed with a burst of fire.
Caelan disappeared.
Ren turned.
Too late.
Caelan's hand closed around the back of his collar.
He threw him face-first into the ground.
Yes.
Definitely deliberate.
Lyra had begun understanding Caelan.
That concerned her.
He wasn't simply beating Ren.
He was feeding him a possibility.
Making him believe there was a loophole.
Letting him chase it.
Caelan was enjoying the chase almost as much as the beating.
Possibly more.
Ren hit the courtyard again.
Pain ran through his shoulder.
He ignored it.
Caelan was somewhere behind him.
Ren rolled, planted one hand against the ground, and released fire through his palm.
The blast wasn't aimed at Caelan.
It struck the paving stones.
The explosion threw both stone and flame outward.
Caelan moved.
Again.
He moved.
Ren's heart hammered.
There was a weakness.
There had to be.
Destiny's Chosen stopped direct attacks.
Fine.
Then don't attack him.
Attack the world around him.
Make the world kill him.
Ren kicked a shattered block into the air and burned through its center.
It burst.
Fragments filled the courtyard.
Caelan disappeared between them.
Ren caught movement.
Left.
He blasted the ground there.
Caelan changed direction.
Ren smiled.
There.
He could do it.
He could force him to move.
Force him into positions.
Limit his options.
The famous Destiny's Chosen wasn't absolute.
Nothing was.
Ren pressed harder.
Fire roared.
Stone cracked.
The training formation hummed around them.
Caelan retreated.
Ren followed.
For the first time in months, perhaps years, the constant irritation inside him became useful.
Every comparison.
Every glance toward his brother.
Every instructor who said good when Ren succeeded and extraordinary when his brother had done the same thing.
Every family member who meant well and somehow made it worse.
Every time his bloodline failed to answer the way it should.
Every time somebody reminded him that he was lucky to share blood with a genius.
The rage came easily.
Ren pushed faster.
Harder.
Caelan smiled.
That smile.
Ren hated that smile.
He sent a wall of flame across the courtyard.
Caelan stepped sideways.
Exactly where Ren wanted him.
Ren struck the support behind him.
The stone column broke.
It fell.
Caelan looked upward.
For one wonderful instant, Ren thought—
Got you.
Then Caelan caught the falling column with one hand.
Ren stopped.
The column was several dozen tonnes.
Caelan held it like an inconvenient umbrella.
"Oh," Caelan said.
He tossed it aside.
The courtyard shook when it landed.
Ren stared.
Caelan vanished.
Pain exploded across Ren's ribs.
He flew.
Hit a wall.
The protective formation flashed.
His body dropped toward the ground.
Before he landed, Caelan caught him.
Ren swung instinctively.
His fist stopped.
Destiny's Chosen.
Caelan looked at it.
Then at him.
"That must be frustrating."
Ren tried to headbutt him.
Nothing.
Caelan laughed.
Then drove him into the ground.
Ren lay on his back.
The sky looked offensively peaceful.
His ribs hurt.
His shoulder hurt.
His pride had probably suffered a fatal injury.
Caelan crouched beside him.
Not breathing hard.
Not sweating.
Not even particularly untidy.
Ren hated him.
Deeply.
"You bastard."
"I've been called worse."
"I almost had you."
Caelan's smile disappeared.
Not entirely.
Enough.
"No."
Ren stared at him.
"You kept dodging."
"Yes."
"The debris—"
"Couldn't hurt me."
Ren went still.
Caelan tapped his own temple.
"You thought you found a way around Destiny's Chosen."
Ren said nothing.
"You didn't."
"But you moved."
"Because I wanted you to keep trying."
Silence.
Ren's face changed.
Humiliation first.
Then anger.
Much better.
Caelan sat beside him.
"You're too weak."
Ren's eyes snapped toward him.
"I am Second Foundation."
"So?"
"You're First."
"So?"
Ren looked like he might choke on the answer.
Caelan leaned backward on his hands.
"Stages aren't fights."
Ren glared.
"You have more Ki than me. Fine. You're six months older. Fine. You're one stage ahead."
Caelan shrugged.
"You're still weaker."
Ren's fingers dug into the ground.
Caelan watched him.
There.
That anger again.
Always present.
Always restrained just enough to be useless.
"You know your real problem?"
Ren's voice came through clenched teeth.
"I assume you're going to tell me."
"You're safe."
That caught him.
Ren frowned.
"What?"
"You're angry."
Caelan gestured toward the ruined courtyard.
"You walk around looking like you want to punch the sun. You train until you're exhausted. You attack hard. You glare at everyone."
His eyes narrowed.
"But you're still safe."
Ren sat up.
Caelan continued before he could interrupt.
"You think too much about what you're supposed to do. How you're supposed to fight. What your clan taught you. What your instructors expect. How far you're allowed to push."
Ren's jaw tightened.
"You know nothing about me."
"I know you spent half that fight believing you had found a way to hurt me and still didn't really let go."
Caelan smiled again.
Not kindly.
"If you want to prove something so badly, then prove it."
Ren stared.
"Stop putting a leash on yourself."
Something flickered behind Ren's eyes.
Caelan saw it.
The thing beneath the temper.
The years of comparison.
The unawakened bloodline.
The older brother everyone noticed first.
Caelan did not mention any of it.
He didn't need to.
"Let the rage take over once in a while," Caelan said. "See what happens when you stop being afraid of going too far."
Ren was silent.
Then:
"You're telling me to lose control?"
"No."
Caelan stood.
"I'm telling you that someone who has never touched his limits has no idea where they are."
He extended a hand.
Ren looked at it.
Then at Caelan.
"You beat me half to death."
"The formation disagrees."
"My ribs disagree."
"They're dramatic."
Ren stared at him for several seconds.
Then took the hand.
Caelan pulled him upright.
"I'm forming a group."
Ren immediately released him.
"No."
Caelan blinked.
"I hadn't finished."
"No."
Lyra laughed from the roof.
Caelan looked upward.
"This isn't funny."
"It is from here."
He looked back at Ren.
"You don't even know what I'm offering."
"I know enough."
"We train together. Different specialties. Help each other improve. Missions eventually. Whatever else comes later."
"I don't need you."
Caelan looked around the destroyed courtyard.
Then back at Ren.
Ren's eye twitched.
"You are incredibly irritating."
"I've heard that too."
"I could hire a private instructor tomorrow."
"You probably already have several."
Ren did not answer.
Caelan nodded.
"Exactly."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means instructors aren't your problem."
Ren's expression darkened.
Caelan stepped backward.
"Think about it."
"I already did."
"You thought for three seconds."
"It was enough."
Caelan turned away.
"I'll come back."
Ren's expression became dangerous.
"Don't."
Caelan glanced over his shoulder.
"And beat you up again."
Ren stared at him.
Caelan grinned.
Then Wind Step carried him away.
Lyra followed a moment later.
For several seconds, Jinwu Ren stood alone in the ruined courtyard.
Dust drifted through the air.
Broken stone surrounded him.
The training formation was already beginning to repair the damage.
His body hurt.
That was manageable.
His pride was less cooperative.
He was Second Stage Foundation Establishment.
Caelan Ardyn had only recently entered the realm.
Ren had more Ki.
More time at Foundation.
More formal clan instruction in several areas.
He was six months older.
And none of it had mattered.
Caelan had handled him like a child.
Worse—
he had played with him.
Ren remembered every time Caelan had dodged.
Every falling stone.
Every burst of flame.
Every moment when Ren had believed he was getting closer.
Because I wanted you to keep trying.
His fist tightened.
Bastard.
For one glorious half minute, Ren had believed he had discovered something nobody else had.
A flaw in Destiny's Chosen.
A way around the impossible.
There had never been a loophole.
Caelan had simply wanted to see what Ren would do if he believed there was one.
The humiliation burned.
Then came the other words.
You're still weaker.
Ren hated them.
Not because they were insulting.
Because they were true.
Second Foundation.
First Foundation.
It should have mattered.
It hadn't.
His brother would probably have understood why immediately.
The thought made Ren's expression darken.
There it was again.
His brother.
Always somewhere in the room even when he wasn't present.
Ren looked at the crater where Caelan had thrown him.
Stop putting a leash on yourself.
He hated that too.
But that one lodged deeper.
Ren had always believed his temper was the problem.
Control it.
Suppress it.
Remain disciplined.
Fight correctly.
Awaken the bloodline properly.
Meet expectations.
Never embarrass the clan.
Never give anyone another reason to compare him unfavorably.
Caelan had looked directly at all that careful control and called it weakness.
Ren breathed slowly.
His anger remained.
For once, he did not push it down immediately.
Fire flickered around his hand.
Hotter than before.
Ren stared at it.
Then toward the direction Caelan had disappeared.
"No."
He wasn't joining him.
Absolutely not.
Not after being humiliated in his own training courtyard.
Not after being thrown around like luggage.
Not after that unbearable grin.
Ren turned toward the rebuilt training construct.
His fist tightened.
He would get stronger.
Stronger than yesterday.
Stronger than everyone's expectations.
Stronger than the shadow hanging over him.
And perhaps—
only perhaps—
when that irritating golden-haired bastard returned...
Ren might listen before saying no.
Just to hear the offer properly.
Nothing more.
Lyra followed Caelan along the elevated stone paths running between the Jinwu Clan grounds and the wider sect.
"You enjoyed that far too much."
Caelan looked at her.
"Yes."
"At least you're honest."
"I try."
"You let him believe he could hurt you."
"Yes."
"That was cruel."
"A little."
Lyra stared at him.
Caelan smiled.
There was no apology in it.
He had spent too many years being treated like something frightening to feel particularly guilty when fear became entertaining.
Lyra had begun learning that kindness and cruelty did not sit on opposite sides of Caelan Ardyn.
They sat beside each other.
Frequently sharing drinks.
"Do you actually want him in the group?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He's strong."
"You destroyed him."
"For his age."
Lyra frowned.
"He is stronger than most?"
"Among people our age? Yes."
"And you?"
Caelan looked ahead.
"None of them can fight me."
There was no arrogance in the statement.
That made it worse.
"Because of Destiny's Chosen?"
"That too."
Lyra caught the wording.
"Too?"
Caelan's smile returned.
He didn't answer.
She sighed.
Of course he didn't.
Behind them, somewhere among the Jinwu courtyards, something exploded.
Caelan paused.
Listened.
Then grinned.
Lyra looked back.
"You think that's him?"
"I hope so."
"You've known him for less than an hour."
"Yes."
"And you've already beaten him, insulted him, questioned his entire way of fighting and told him to embrace his anger."
Caelan thought about it.
"When you say it like that, I sound very productive."
Lyra closed her eyes.
This group was going to be a disaster.