Book 3: Chapter 52: Sword Lessons
Sen was in a bad mood when he left that garden. Nothing had happened that he hadn’t expected, not really, but the whole thing was just a massive frustration for him. He’d thought that he and Lo Meifeng had made progress. His knee-jerk reaction was to say that they hadn’t made any progress at all because that would let him just write her off completely. But he couldn’t quite sell himself on that idea. They had built something like a friendship. It seemed that he’d just overestimated how much she valued it. He pushed that whole situation to the back of his mind. He wasn’t going to solve it in his present frame of mind. He’d never solved much of anything when he just wanted to find something to break. He needed some kind of distraction, so he went looking for one.
He found that distraction in a courtyard where some of the younger fire cultivators, or so Sen assumed based on their questionable skill, were sparring with practice jian. He hung back and simply watched them all for a while. There was the usual divide between those who simply knew more and less. There was also the divide between those who were more talented and those who would only advance through sheer, stubborn determination to improve. Sen felt a lot more empathy for that second group. He was one of them. The only real difference between them and him was that he’d been taught by a true master, which they seemingly had not, and he had practiced a lot more than they had. After he’d been watching for most of an hour and had cataloged a whole litany of martial sins, someone came over and leaned against the wall next to him.
“Sad, isn’t it?” the newcomer asked.
Sen looked over at the man. He looked like he was in his late twenties and leaned to the heavier slab muscle that Sen associated with hard physical labor more than cultivation. The man looked like hadn’t shaved in a few days, but Sen couldn’t decide if the man was just lazy or trying to make some kind of fashion statement. He wasn’t armed that Sen could see, but that didn’t mean much in a world of storage treasures. Sen barely looked armed, and he had a small arsenal in his storage ring. He didn’t really feel like talking to the man, but he had been looking for a distraction. It would do.
“What’s sad?” Sen asked.
“The state of their skill with a jian.”
Sen shrugged. It wasn’t his place to criticize. It was one thing to observe where correction could be made, and something else entirely to give voice to those thoughts. The first was more an exercise for his benefit. The second was an invitation to a challenge, and he’d had more than enough violence for the time being. Plus, he had no idea who the man was. He could be their instructor for all Sen knew.
“You don’t agree?” asked the man.
“I have no opinion,” said Sen.
“A sword genius like you has no opinion about student sword work?”
“I’m no sword genius.”
“The hells you’re not. You fought Chan Yu Ming and won. She’s a sword genius, which pretty much makes you one by default.”
“Maybe you’re just setting the bar too low.”
The man was quiet for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed. “So, you’re really not going to tell me what you think of them.”
“It seems unlikely. I’m not looking for challenges, duels of honor, or violence of any kind. Offering that kind of opinion seems almost guaranteed to cause at least one of those. After all, I am a mere guest here.”
“Guest? Who in the world told you that nonsense?”
Sen frowned at the man. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“You parked a swirling mass of fiery death in the sky that was so big it blotted out the sun. We’re fire cultivators. You could say that we were all impressed, if you’re generous, or humbled, if you’re not. The only kind of guest that you are is a guest elder. Besides, after that display with Chan Yu Ming, do you think anyone here is really in a hurry to start an argument?”
“People are stupid sometimes.”
That made the man pause for a moment with a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, I can’t really argue that point. People can be morons, but I think you’re safe from that for at least another week.”
“That’s helpful to know. Thank you. Everyone here knows me, it seems, but you haven’t introduced yourself.”
“Shi Ping.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Sen, and then gave the man a meaningful look. “What is your role here, Shi Ping?”
The muscular man sighed. “I never was good at being subtle. I’m one of the martial instructors.”
“Do you teach the jian, by chance?”
The man offered Sen a guileless grin. “I do.”
“So, why try to get me to criticize your training?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m lousy at it. I don’t mean using a jian. I’m actually pretty good at that. But doing and teaching are different. I don’t need to explain things to myself while I’m using one. I can rely on intuition and experience. You can’t do that when you teach.”
Sen nodded. He had very little experience with teaching, but he remembered the extraordinary patience that Master Feng, Uncle Kho, and Auntie Caihong had shown him. He wasn’t sure that he could keep that up for years on end the way that they had. He wasn’t even sure he could keep up that kind of patience for a few weeks. Yet another reason he was in no great hurry to take on alchemy students. Of course, they had all been consummate masters of their respective crafts with deep insights into all aspects of the jian, alchemy, spear, and formations.
“Surely the other elders are aware of all of this. Why don’t they simply select another instructor?”
“Who? True sword geniuses are rare fruit my disgustingly talented friend. There are a handful of others in the sect who are better with a jian than I am, but they aren’t better teachers.”
Sen finally understood. It wasn’t a problem with a lack of jian talent in the sect, but a skill gap in terms of actually teaching. Perhaps Sen had been blessed with unusually talented teachers. Or maybe all those thousands of years let them refine their teaching skills. Sen glanced at the hopeful face of Shi Ping and relented.
“There’s a lot of individual problems with the students, but I suppose that’s to be expected. Everyone will have their own strengths and weaknesses. In general, though, they’re all struggling with sloppy form. This isn’t the style I use, but I can see how it’s supposed to look. That,” he said, waving a hand in the general direction of the students, “isn’t what it should look like.”
Shi Ping gave Sen a big, toothy grin and gently punched him in the arm with a meaty fist. “I knew a genius like you would know what was wrong. I don’t suppose you’d care to help out for an hour or two? You know, just to put the kids on the right track.”
“I’m not going to find out after I’ve helped that you’re incredibly lazy and always looking for ways to shirk your responsibilities, am I?”
The big man pressed a hand to his chest. “Of course, you’re going to find that out. But even I know that getting this right is important. It’s not like getting out of cooking. This is life or death information for them. Maybe not right now, but someday.”
Sen was a bit amused at the man’s completely unashamed admission of his own laziness, but he also heard the sincerity in the man’s voice. While Sen wasn’t enthusiastic about playing guest teacher, he supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to offer the kids a few basic pointers. If nothing else, he thought he could show them approximately what their form should look like. That would have to be helpful, wouldn’t it? Sen nodded to the man.
“Alright. I suppose I can help. I am a guest elder, after all.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Shi Ping, clapping Sen on the shoulder. “Let’s go meet the kids.”
Sen let himself be led over to where the young men and women were standing. It didn’t take long before there were about a dozen slack-jawed, wide-eyed kids staring at Sen. Yeah, he thought, this isn’t uncomfortable at all. Shi Ping clapped his hands together with an ear-splitting crack. The kids all jumped at the unexpected noise, and then immediately began shouting questions.
“Silence,” bellowed Shi Ping. “Guest elder…”
Shi Ping shot Sen a startled glance, realizing he’d never gotten Sen’s actual name.
“Lu Sen,” supplied Sen.
“Guest Elder Lu Sen has graciously agreed to participate in today’s class and provide all of you with sparkling wisdom and insight that none of you have earned.”
Sen glanced at the man but saw he was grinning at the kids with a cheerful gleam in his eyes. A look at the kids showed that they were clearly in on the joke, as they quietly snickered. Then, Shi Ping’s face went dead serious.
“I expect all of you to pay attention. Opportunities like this don’t come along very often. Make the most of it.”
The young women and men all looked a bit startled at Shi Ping’s seriousness, but then all turned attentive gazes on Sen. Sen offered them all a shallow martial bow, and they all returned much deeper ones. He thought about how he should begin. He glanced over at the rack of practice jian and with a negligent gesture and application of air qi, summoned one of the practice blades to his hand. After that, every eye was glued to him, including Shi Ping.
“Your style is not my style,” said Sen, “but I feel that I should at least make the attempt at your basic form to show that I, as you, can always learn something new.”
With that, Sen fell into the first stance of their form. He let his body move once through the form slowly, seeing what felt right and where he’d misjudged something. Having worked out most of the idiosyncrasies, he started over. The second time through, it flowed. It wasn’t as bluntly aggressive as Master Feng’s style, or as deviously complicated as Auntie Caihong’s. It was straightforward. Ideal, really, for young students. He let the motions carry him, unconsciously refining the form as he went, making on-the-spot improvements that he intuitively understood should have been there, and probably had been in the original version. When he completed the form, he turned to look at the students. One of them, one of the more naturally gifted students, looked like he’d been hit in the head or had a divine revelation. Sen kept expecting to see heavenly qi descend on the boy. The rest just looked awed. Even Shi Ping had a wide-eyed expression.
“Strength, speed, and control. These are the fundamental building blocks of excellent swordsmanship. Some of you have strength, others have speed, but most of you lack control. You wish to rush ahead. But when you rush, you turn this,” he executed a thrust into a practice dummy that made the inanimate figure explode, “into this,” he executed the same thrust at another dummy only to have the thrust turned aside. “The first can save your life. The second can cost your life. Do you all wish to live?”
There was a moment of hesitation, then the students shouted in unison, “Yes, Elder Lu!”
“Then, let us begin.”
What Sen had meant to be a brief hour or two of casually helping out, turned into a four-hour extended lesson. Shi Ping abandoned any pretense that he was teaching and placed himself with the other students. Sen made a point to work with each student one-on-one for a few minutes. In most cases, he corrected what he’d seen as their most pressing problem or gave them individual advice about how they could correct it. He even, half as a joke, pulled Shi Ping aside, only to find himself giving the man real tips on improving. When the students looked like they were all ready to fall asleep on their feet, Sen called the class to a close. It was only then that he really noticed that every inch of spare space was filled with fire cultivators, young and old. He even spotted Lo Meifeng trying to hide in the back. He could see her expression, though, like he was someone she didn’t even recognize. As a reminder, he posed the class a question.
“What are the fundamental building blocks of good swordsmanship?”
As one, the students shouted. “Strength! Speed! Control!”
“Very good,” said Sen, giving them a shallow bow. “I think that’s enough for today.”
The students all offered bows of their own. Some of them staggered over to return their practice blades, while some stood with a classmate and had an animated discussion. Shi Ping walked over to Sen and shook his head a little.
“That was,” the man said, “I don’t even know.”
“Extraordinary,” said a voice from behind Sen. “The word you are looking for, Elder Shi, is extraordinary.”
Sen turned around and found himself face-to-face with a woman who could look him right in the eye. Her hair was iron gray, but the skin on her face was oddly smooth. Sen could feel the power in her. She was a nascent soul cultivator. Not as powerful as Sen’s own teachers, but far above him. Sen lifted an eyebrow, unsure what to make of the woman, until he heard a collective gasp, and saw everyone drop to their knees and press their foreheads to the ground. What is happening, he wondered.
“I am Duan Yuxuan, Matriarch of the Order of the Celestial Flame.”
Aware that he’d missed his opportunity to kowtow with everyone else, Sen offered the matriarch a deep bow. Almost as deep as the one he’d give Master Feng.
“I am…,” he began, but the matriarch gently cut him off.
“Oh, I am aware of your identity, Judgment’s Gale. Please, come with me. There are matters I wish to discuss with you.”
Recognizing the order for what it was, Sen fell in behind the matriarch.
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