Chapter Eight: Two Years Later

Spring was in full bloom, the forest cloaked in vibrant green, branches dotted with new leaves, birds fluttering their wings as they darted through the trees—a scene alive with vitality. “Ha!” Several urgent shouts rang out, interspersed with a series of dull thuds, like two wooden objects colliding.

Han Bingyan raised his arm, blocking his little sister Han Bingran’s wooden sword with his own. The swords clashed, sending out a sharp sound and scattering tiny splinters. Seizing the moment while his sister’s sword was extended and not yet withdrawn, Han Bingyan swiftly spun around, slashing several times in quick succession before retreating with fluid, calculated movements. Every motion was seamless, as if orchestrated with precise forethought.

A glint flashed in Han Bingran’s eyes. She bared her adorable tiger-like teeth in a sly grin. Her gaze locked onto the empty space behind Han Bingyan, and, after a faint blur, she suddenly vanished. “Body-shifting technique?” Han Bingyan was unsurprised by his sister’s disappearance—he had anticipated this move. The so-called body-shifting was simply a rapid movement technique, swift enough to elude the naked eye, creating the illusion of vanishing. But in truth, she had never really disappeared.

“Over here!” Han Bingyan’s eyes were sharp as an eagle’s. The moment he pinpointed his sister’s position, he lunged forward, thrusting his wooden sword straight ahead.

There was a resounding “thud!” as the two wooden swords collided. Moments later, Han Bingran’s figure materialized out of thin air. She clutched a wooden sword identical to Han Bingyan’s, her breath coming in heavy gasps, wide eyes filled with astonishment—she had not expected her brother to see through her body-shifting trick.

As she tried to break free from his control, she suddenly felt a hand clamp around her neck. At some point, Han Bingyan’s left hand had already reached for her throat, holding her firmly.

“I give up! Without using inner strength, I can never beat you!” Han Bingran pouted, throwing her wooden sword to the ground. Indeed, their sparring had taken place on the premise that Han Bingran would not use her internal energy.

Time had slipped by in the blink of an eye. It had been two years since the three of them began quietly training in martial arts. In that time, they had all grown—both in appearance and in spirit.

Han Bingyan’s progress over these two years was remarkable. As just demonstrated, when his sister refrained from using her inner strength, he was fully confident of victory. Yet that was not a true defeat of Han Bingran. At ten years old, Han Bingyan could easily take on a group of ten grown men—assuming, of course, they were all ordinary people. Though his meridians were blocked, for reasons unknown his body’s resilience and adaptability far surpassed that of others—even his sister, Han Bingran, considered herself no match physically.

Beyond that, Han Bingyan seemed to possess a rare talent for martial arts. The sword techniques his sister taught him took only a few days to master; with further practice, he was able to invent strange and unorthodox moves—seemingly chaotic, but on closer inspection, tightly linked and impressive in their fluidity. Sadly, his innate meridian blockage meant that, despite his excellent physical constitution, he was ultimately at the mercy of fate.

“Don’t be upset!” Han Bingyan bent down, picked the wooden sword off the ground, and placed it back into his sister’s hand, tapping her delicate nose playfully. “After all, you weren’t using your strength. If you went all out, I doubt I could withstand even a single move.”

Han Bingyan spoke the truth. In the world of martial arts, speed is invincible! Likewise, a single deadly strike can outmatch a hundred feeble attacks. So, while he could defeat Han Bingran without her inner strength, he stood no chance if she fought seriously—a few moves would be all it took for him to fall.

Seeing her brother’s cheerful face suddenly cloud over with sadness, Han Bingran realized he was disheartened by his inability to compete with those who possessed inner strength, and her own heart ached in sympathy.

Over the past two years, Han Bingyan’s relationship with the Han family had only grown more distant. Were it not for his sister Han Bingran, his mother Han Xianyu, and Aunt Han Xianyun, he might have felt entirely estranged from them. Gradually, he came to appreciate the care shown by his aunt, and sometimes felt guilty for having misunderstood her in the past.

As for his mother, she had begun to express a mother’s love, however muted; Han Bingyan noticed her attitude toward him had changed, no longer as cold as before. Yet sometimes she would stare at him in a daze, her mood unstable, prone to fits of temper. It was from Han Xianyun that Han Bingyan learned the reason: it all stemmed from his father, who had abandoned a woman who truly loved him—a senseless loss.

Though the warmth from those three was unexpected and left Han Bingyan feeling both grateful and uncertain, the rest of the Han family only grew colder toward him. The contrast was stark—like heaven and earth.

A prime example was his grandmother, Han Liang. No matter what Han Bingyan did, he could not change her opinion of him. This troubled him, for Han Liang was the current head of the Han family, and her attitude set the tone for everyone else. Regrettably, she remained indifferent to her grandson, ignoring him as if by instinct.

Then there were the likes of Han Bingwu and the other children his age. No matter how much time passed, their treatment of Han Bingyan never changed—they bullied and humiliated him as always, unmoved by the passage of years. Han Bingyan had felt anger and resentment, but lacking the strength to stand up to them, he had little recourse; physical resistance only led to more pain.

Apart from his sister, Han Bingruo was the one with whom Han Bingyan shared the closest bond. The two had so much in common. Though they were the same age, Han Bingruo often played the role of older brother, offering help and encouragement, and working together with Han Bingyan to persevere.

“Heh, why worry about all that? Aren’t you still much stronger than me? If anyone should be upset, it ought to be me.” Lounging against a tree, Han Bingruo watched the siblings spar, his tone lighthearted. Compared to Han Bingruo, Han Bingyan could at least be grateful he was a bit stronger.

Yet Han Bingyan had never seen him despondent; he was always cheerful and full of laughter.

Han Bingruo’s words snapped Han Bingyan out of his melancholy. Smiling at his friends, he noticed the sky was growing late and suggested, “Alright, I get it… Let’s head back.”

※※※Feather※※※Emperor※※※

The next morning, the three set out together for Chaoyang Primary School, as was their unspoken routine. They had grown accustomed to always walking together.

“Today they’ll announce the final exam results. Once we know our grades, the winter holiday officially begins!” Han Bingran beamed at the two boys.

Han Bingruo curled his lip and gestured toward Han Bingyan. “This kid’s so smart and diligent—first place must be his this time.”

“Really?” Han Bingran’s eyes sparkled as she turned eagerly to her brother. Truth be told, Han Bingran’s own grades were ordinary, and she genuinely admired her studious brother.

Han Bingyan shook his head modestly. “Not at all. I just thought the exam was easier this time—I’m really not that sure.”

“Really? I found it so hard,” Han Bingran replied, giving Han Bingyan a pitiful look.

“Ha, too much modesty turns into pride!” Han Bingruo said, slinging his arm around Han Bingyan’s neck in a gesture of camaraderie.

Han Bingyan blushed slightly at the remark. In truth, he was confident that first place was within his grasp—at worst, he would be second. His earlier words had been more than a little self-effacing.

The others let it pass. Amid laughter and teasing, the three arrived at the classroom door. In the distance, Han Bingyan caught sight of a familiar figure.