Volume One: The Wild Boy Chapter Seventy-Seven: Cultivating Fate

In an age of utter wickedness, even the mere hope of surviving the present seemed a luxury beyond reach...

On the mountain, the soldiers celebrated, their steps lighter than before, as if the deaths of the warriors marked the beginning of a new chapter for Mount Si. Their admiration for Commander Lin grew only deeper.

Yet when joy finds no echo in another heart, it becomes but noise.

As for Kuisheng, after several days of seclusion, he finally cast aside the quilt that had shrouded his head. Perhaps the clamor and chaos had faded from memory.

On this clear day, before the sun had set, Kuisheng knocked on the door of Lin Changtian's quarters.

"Commander Lin, the disgraced Kuisheng wishes to speak with you at length."

A crack opened in the door—a sliver of space where dust swirled in the air. It had been long since anyone inside had stepped out.

"General Kui, the chief of Mount Si has no wish to speak with you, but Lin Changtian of Bohai is willing."

Kuisheng pushed open the door and sat cross-legged with Lin Changtian by the bedside.

Lin Changtian brewed a pot of tea, poured himself a small cup, offered half to Kuisheng, and spilled the rest onto the floor. The rising steam curled in whorls, both cold and scalding.

When the heat had faded and the swirling mist dispersed, Lin Changtian finally spoke: "Which of my soldiers did wrong in their killing?"

"They were all deserving of death, Commander Lin. You did nothing amiss," Kuisheng replied, his back hunched for a moment before straightening again.

"It's chilly. Let me shut the door properly." Lin Changtian went over, threw the door open, then slammed it shut several times. "If you are displeased, Commander, vent your anger on your enemies, not the door. The door is blameless, and if you break it, you'll be the one freezing tonight."

The breath exhaled into the cold air spun a few loops before vanishing without a trace.

Lin Changtian drew his long saber, set it before Kuisheng, and fixed him with a solemn gaze. "That advice applies to you as well, General Kui. Harboring resentment in your heart will, in time, destroy more than a single life."

"Even if I die, it is my own affair. What has it to do with others?" Kuisheng's eyes bulged in indignation.

Lin Changtian leaned against the table, his fingers tapping at first slowly, then faster, until the wood bore the marks of his impatience. He clenched his fist, looked Kuisheng up and down several times, and then, to the latter’s astonishment, struck him sharply on the head.

"Why did you hit me?" Kuisheng sprang upright, his eight-foot frame towering half a head above Lin Changtian, his unkempt beard quivering, his face fierce as a beast poised to devour.

"Commander Lin this, Commander Lin that—yet as the master of this mountain, what’s wrong if I give you a beating!" Kuisheng was first startled, then broke into a foolish grin. "Yu Baili told us before he left, if someone stirs up trouble without cause, we ought to give him a good lesson..."

Before he could finish, the stool in his hand flew toward Lin Changtian’s face with a rush of wind, as if he had been planning this for some time.

"Kuisheng! You’re not fighting fair, are you going to use weapons on me?"
"Would you insist on single combat even on the battlefield? Hey, put down that teapot, the water’s full—you can’t handle it, is that it?"

...

Kuisheng sat meekly on the bed, watching Lin Changtian clutch the teapot to his chest, as if afraid he might snatch it.

"Tell me why I killed those soldiers. Guess right, and I’ll make amends, bow my head at each grave and confess my guilt!"

"Hmph," Kuisheng snorted, his face clouded with worry. "Then tell me why I stood up for those bandits?"

Lin Changtian sprang up, seized Kuisheng by the collar, and shouted, "From childhood to now, do you think I don’t know the twists and turns in your mind? That troop of soldiers—every one of them you brought from Qing Mountain, companions through countless days and nights of bloodshed. In the northern chaos, defending Mount Si, raiding Zhang Yi, routing Guo Huai—it was always them. When you were looked down upon, they willingly followed you as their general. I have every reason to believe that even if they marched thirty thousand miles, not one would complain. Publicly, their valor is famed throughout the land; privately, they were the only group who ever truly recognized a brother who grew up with nothing but a pair of trousers. By reason or by feeling, how could I condemn them?"

Kuisheng's anger and resentment were scoured clean by Lin Changtian’s tirade. The burly man stood dumbfounded, finally muttering, "I thought you only wanted to preserve the officers’ dignity and your own authority as commander. But if that’s true, why did you kill them? And why were most of the executed the unruly ones, while the honest few were spared? What logic is that?"

"Oh, so you’re done with ‘Commander’? Careful, I might punish you for that—after all, in your heart I’m just a chief who cares only for face. Look up when you speak, and tell me: do you remember that fire on the mountain?"

"Of course I do. Wasn’t one of the reasons for killing them that fire? But it was a room prone to fire, and it was cold—accidents are common. You can’t convict Li Luer and the others just because of a daytime quarrel." Kuisheng scratched his head, growing more reluctant to speak as he saw Lin Changtian’s cold expression.

Lin Changtian shook his head, face now calm. He picked up the battered saber, set it on the table, tidied the chaos of the room, and finally said, "That day, I happened to see clearly from the mountainside when the fire broke out. They were thrown in after being beaten to death. An entire family of seven, the youngest still in swaddling clothes—not a soul survived."

Kuisheng pressed his lips together, swallowing his retort. It hadn’t been his own men on duty that night, but only a few remained in the encampment—those who survived must have been the ones spared.

Lin Changtian patted his shoulder, speaking with a mix of exasperation and affection, "Do you think I act justly, General Kui?"

"Changtian, I—"

"What?" Lin Changtian cut him off, pointing north. "I have a task for you. Do it well, and I’ll pardon you, you oaf. Ma Hui’s troops have been loitering near Weinan Mountain, leaving corpses at the passes as threats. Gather a force, pick whoever you like from the men on the mountain. I have only one requirement: when you’ve forged them into a veteran army, don’t forget to strengthen their moral education. Tch, what a bunch of illiterate fools. Do you remember Lian Hua? When I made him a bodyguard I discovered he couldn’t get through three sentences without mentioning a body part, and when he traded insults, seven out of ten words involved someone’s female relatives!"

"I remember that oaf. Wasn’t he the one who, when you first took command of Mount Si, shouted congratulations on your ‘ascension’? He’s got a mother at home to care for, and, well, he’s got many virtues besides his foolishness... Er, does foolishness count as a virtue?" Kuisheng scratched his head. To put it kindly, the man was honest, but in truth, “foolish” was probably the fairest description.

Lin Changtian waved him off, gazing resentfully out the window. "It’s been some time since I’ve gone for a walk. The mountain’s warmed up. I’ll wander awhile. If you’ve nothing to do, go find somewhere far from my sight. Just don’t let me see you—like a toad staring in the mirror, the more I look, the angrier I get!"

Kuisheng stroked his beard and grinned, muttering to himself: Who’s the toad here, if not you? Can’t play fair, clings to the teapot, accuses others of lacking manners—Lin, you are truly something else.

...

Spring had come at last to the mountain. Even the stubborn snow had melted into pools. Chen Yixiao chased Wei Mou from mountaintop to foot, laughter echoing from the slopes and filling Mount Si’s spring with a touch of childish delight.

Kuisheng was gone for some time, and the provocations at Weinan Mountain Pass ceased. Perhaps the rumor of his fearsome reputation had frightened them off.

Lin Changtian played chess, while Chen Ziliang practiced his spear. The former faced Liu Qingshan across the board; the latter sparred with Chen Mo.

"Big Brother Chen, Yu’s spear technique is indeed exquisite. Even you can hold out so many rounds against Ziliang," Lin Changtian said to Chen Mo, taking the chance to move a piece while Liu Qingshan’s head was turned.

Chen Mo had just drawn back when Lin Changtian started bragging. "He must be distracting me on purpose, seeing his brother losing ground. Truly, not a decent lot among them! Well then, let’s settle this with the spear and teach this fellow some humility!" So thinking, Chen Mo drew back his weapon, bent low, and with a shout, put all his strength into the next strike.

"Yes, just so." Chen Mo seized the opportunity, but as he moved to thrust, he found Chen Ziliang’s blade already at his throat. "Ziliang, why aren’t you following the rules?"

"Rules?" Chen Ziliang scratched his head, looking puzzled. "Everyone knows sparring is turn-based. How can you not give me time to cast my move?" Chen Mo cried out in fury.

Chen Ziliang’s eyes widened in confusion. Being the gentlest soul on the mountain, he gave Chen Mo a hard kick and laughed in his simple way. "Big Brother Chen Mo, you just used a taunt skill, so it’s only fair if I kick you—right?"

Chen Mo: ...

"Enough, you two be quiet." Liu Qingshan, who had been studying the chessboard in silence, finally looked up and placed a broad hand on Lin Changtian’s shoulder, speaking with certainty, "Boy, I’ve been watching for a while—are you cheating at chess? There’s an old saying: cheat at chess, lose your head!"

Lin Changtian’s mouth twitched. What old saying? By Liu’s logic, anything an old man said was an old saying. But then, who was the oldest on this mountain...?

"No, I always play fair. Tampering with the board is beneath me. Surely your eyes are simply tired, Elder Liu." Liu Qingshan sneered, ignoring Lin Changtian’s muttering, and pinned him to the chessboard. "There’s an old saying: if someone’s cheating at chess, it must be a young rascal. Today I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget. Take this!"

Lin Changtian struggled desperately, his face contorted in indignation and his eyes full of grievance. "Old man, you’re playing with fire! I respect you as an elder, but don’t push me too far. If I explode, I won’t be myself anymore!"

The result was dire—Lin Changtian was pinned to the ground and given a thorough thrashing by Liu Qingshan. At first, his screams could be heard echoing, but soon enough, the mighty chief of Mount Si was foaming at the mouth.

"Enough, stop playing dead. I’m done. The day’s late, let’s return to camp," Liu Qingshan said, satisfied as he shook out his fists. Lately, Lin Changtian had been uncommonly well-behaved, and Liu had been itching for an excuse to indulge his love of brawling.

The sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the mountains in sublime beauty. The soldiers looked on with admiration: "Look at our Commander Lin—even being carried back up the mountain, his posture is elegant. Truly the mark of a learned man."

"Do you think I used that much force? Tsk, likely the lad’s been lazing about too much lately, so one punch knocked him out. There’s an old saying: the old man’s fist isn’t a fist, but a sign of affection for the younger generation." Liu Qingshan dragged Lin Changtian’s body along, the sunset lengthening their shadows behind them—a picture of "fatherly affection and filial piety," like grandfather and grandson...

There’s an old saying: seniority can be muddled, but education must never be lacking.