Shen Zuo woke up that day at his usual early hour, the mist still clinging to the edges of the valley, dew glinting on the grass like tiny stars. He breathed deeply, the cold air filling his lungs and waking every cell in his body. He knew a new day of training, *torture*, awaited him, but he never expected what old Bai Ren had planned this time.
When he arrived at the sandy training ground that bled daily, Bai Ren was already standing there, arms crossed behind his back, his sharp gaze studying Shen Zuo as if reading his thoughts. He said, in a voice calm but not lacking in firmness:
"Today you'll learn to use the axe."
...
Old Bai Ren bent down slowly and opened the heavy wooden door of one of the side training rooms himself. The sound of the creaking hinges alone was enough to spark Shen Zuo's curiosity, and the moment he stepped inside, he came back out carrying a massive axe across his back, holding it with perfect balance as if it weighed nothing at all. The axe was nearly as tall as Shen Zuo, maybe taller, with two broad, slanted blades and a thick metal heel that dragged deep grooves into the ground with every pull.
He handed it to Shen Zuo without a word, watching him with his narrow eyes as though testing something within him, not just his strength, but his stubbornness too.
Despite the shock of the weight, Shen Zuo looked at him with clear defiance and said, with forced confidence:
"I want a bigger axe. This one's too small for me."
Bai Ren raised an eyebrow slightly, then a sidelong smile crossed his lips, closer to mockery than admiration.
"Bigger? That's exactly what I expected from you... alright, let's see how much you can handle."
He went back inside, and this time it took him longer, and when he came out, he was dragging behind him an absurdly oversized axe, one that looked like it had been made for a beast, not a man. He shoved it toward Shen Zuo and said:
"Try it."
The moment Shen Zuo gripped its handle, he felt its weight crushing down on his bones, and his knees buckled without his permission. His shoulders trembled, and sweat began pouring from his forehead before he had even started.
Bai Ren showed no mercy. He simply gestured for him to begin.
...
Then he tried again, his fists clenched tight around the axe's handle, his back bent under the crushing weight, his breath coming quick and ragged, his forehead dripping sweat. Every time he tried to lift it, his muscles reminded him they hadn't been built yet to bear this kind of burden.
Then, suddenly, he heard a strange metallic scraping sound behind him. He turned with difficulty to see a sight he never expected: old Bai Ren himself, holding an axe just like his, except in his hands it looked as light as a feather. He spun it around in a full circle, then hoisted it onto his shoulder with one hand, saying in a mocking voice, dripping with malice:
"Come here, my sweet little chick... show me if you're actually worthy of that axe."
Shen Zuo's eyes widened in shock, just from watching him advance toward him with those steady steps, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying fighting spirit. He wasn't joking. The man was actually coming for him, about to unleash a real combat experience on him in the middle of training he hadn't even learned to stand steady through yet!
Shen Zuo bravely tried to raise his axe in front of him, using it as a shield, or even swinging it through the air to intimidate him, but it was useless. The weight of the iron paralyzed his arms, and the muscles and tendons in his right shoulder had already begun trembling violently.
Then, without thinking, his body moved on its own. His right hand slid toward his waist, where his sword hung in its sheath. Before he even realized what he was doing, he drew the blade and raised it in front of him with everything he had left.
At that exact moment, Bai Ren's axe came crashing down toward him from above, like a falling meteor about to split the ground in two.
They met.
The axe descending, his sword rising.
The impact was brutal. The spark that erupted from the two pieces of metal colliding was like a small explosion, and Shen Zuo's whole body shook violently, every bone feeling as though it were about to be crushed. He was sent flying several steps backward, dropping to his knees, but he was still gripping his sword.
Bai Ren raised an eyebrow, looked at him for a long moment, then said in a tone that carried less mockery and more genuine interest:
"...Hmm. At least you didn't pass out."
Then he smiled.
"The lesson's just getting started."
Shen Zuo let out a violent breath, his ragged breathing struggling to keep pace with his exhausted lungs, but his hands remained locked tight around the sword's grip, despite the pain now spreading through his arms like fire. Every part of his body was screaming, but his eyes never left Bai Ren, who stood before him now, studying him, as if weighing whatever was left of him.
"Nice... you've got a survival instinct, at least. You're not as useless as you look," Bai Ren said in a tone still laced with mockery, then swung the axe around his body once more, raising an eyebrow as he added:
"But instinct alone won't be enough on a real battlefield."
Then he suddenly lunged at Shen Zuo with two quick steps, the ground trembling beneath his feet, the axe rising once again. This time, the test wasn't about returning the blow... it was about surviving it.
Shen Zuo's muscles screamed in warning, but he ignored them. He tried to pull back, to raise the sword, even at the wrong angle, but his body was too slow to outpace his weapon. There was no time left.
In the next instant, he felt the axe strike straight against his forehead, not with lethal force, but with terrifying precision. A calculated, focused blow, but more than enough to shatter his balance completely.
His entire world flipped upside down.
Flashes of white. A sharp ringing echo.
Then... nothing.
His body collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The sword slipped from his hand, and he lay there, eyes closed, breath slow, unconscious, blood trickling from his forehead.
Bai Ren approached, crouched down beside him, resting the axe on his shoulder with one hand, and said quietly, as if talking to himself:
"Heh... this'll teach you that when I tell you to train with an axe, you actually train with the axe~."
Then he flashed a mocking smile, turned his back, and walked away, leaving Shen Zuo there, soaked in his own blood...
"You're a truly brilliant writer, grandpa Zhou Ji~." Shen Zuo said sarcastically, one hand resting over the spot where the blow had landed, still aching, his tone mixing mockery with obvious annoyance. He had woken up only a short while ago after losing consciousness, and had just listened to old Zhou Ji narrate a detailed account of everything that happened to him, as if it were some literary tale rather than a brutal training incident.
Old Zhou Ji laughed loudly, leaning on his cane, then said with a smile full of nostalgia:
"Hahaha, when you've got someone like Ling Li around, someone who cares more about the details than his own life, he'll force you to learn professional writing whether you like it or not. He doesn't let a single thing slip by without documenting it, it's like we're all living inside a novel of his own making."
Shen Zuo stared at him, nearly in shock, eyebrows furrowed, then said:
"So you were just standing there watching from a distance, writing down everything that happened to me in detail... was knocking me out part of the plan from the very start?"
Zhou Ji fell silent for a moment, his eyes gleaming with the mischief of someone who knew far more than he let on, then answered, turning his face toward the sky as if reliving the memory:
"Not exactly... but if the axe hadn't come down on your head, how else would you have understood the weight of the path you're walking? You needed a shock, something to wake up whatever lies deeper than fear... something pens can't write, only blows can refine."
Then he looked at him and winked:
"And don't worry, I wrote the ending heroically. Made it look like you actually withstood the blow before you fell. You should be thanking me, hero of the story."
Shen Zuo pressed his lips together and muttered:
"Wonderful... even my failures get turned into dramatic scenes."
Another year passed for Shen Zuo, who was now thirteen.
The sound of flesh being struck echoed through the area, along with the sound of stifled screams...
*AAAAAAAAAAGH.*
*AAAAAAAAH.*
*CRACK.*
Half an hour later, the sounds stopped.
Silence settled over the place, and nothing remained but Shen Zuo's ragged breathing, mixed with quiet, muffled crying. He lifted his head with difficulty, his face covered in tears and sweat, and said in a hoarse voice:
"Damn you... you old bastard!"
Even though he had grown used to the pain and the suffering, being used to it didn't mean the pain had gone away. If anything, it was the opposite: every round of torment tore into his skin all over again.
Ling Li wasn't just a teacher, he was a merciless tormentor. A genius at inventing new ways to crush both body and spirit, though the whip remained his favorite tool, as if the sound of tearing flesh was music that satisfied some sadistic streak in him.
All of this was part of the training... brutal training in pain, emotion, and perception. But the truth was, the emotional training had long since crossed every reasonable limit.
Shen Zuo would slip into terrifying illusions, nightmares that always ended with his death.
And the old men had the ability to watch him inside those illusions~.
"Heeheehee, he really should have seen his own face in that moment!" Bai Ren said, munching on something that looked like popcorn, watching a strange, spherical object displaying a scene of Shen Zuo with both hands severed. The real Shen Zuo lay sleeping right next to him.
Shen Zuo woke to the sound of Bai Ren's mocking laughter, but he wasn't in any mood to talk.
"This is the twentieth time you've put me through these illusions... damn you." he said, irritated.
The first time it happened to him, he stopped speaking to any of them for an entire month. They had been training him on silence at the time, and it was a month with no words at all, nothing but the sound of blows landing on his body, and Zhou Ji talking to him without ever getting a response. As for Bai Ren and Ling Li, they hadn't even bothered speaking to him at all, they just struck him, silently. But now... it seemed he'd gotten used to slipping into the illusions.
.......
In the present moment...
Ling Li untied Shen Zuo from where he hung. Blood dripped from his wounds, his body turned blue from the extent of the damage. Ling Li said in a cold voice:
"Go... you'll find Zhou Ji waiting for you, as always, ready to heal you."
Shen Zuo stood frozen in place, breathing with difficulty, blood still dripping from his aching body.
If there was one person in his life he truly resented, it was Ling Li. Even Bai Ren, with all his madness and mockery, couldn't compare to Ling Li.
Who could ever love someone who tortures them?
But strangely enough... he respected him too
.
A respect soaked in pain, tangled with fear, and he couldn't tell whether it came from Ling Li's strength, or from the deep mark he'd left on his soul.