11-30-2016, 01:26 AM
Chapter One: The Melody of a Swordsman
It was another quiet afternoon in the forests that Ling had become so accustomed to. Laying against the tree, he spent his morning lounging and relaxing underneath the endless branches above. His black, short sideswept hair rested atop his head, the shade blanketing his tanned peach skin. Fung, his butler and Liu, his bodyguard had gone to town nearby to gather supplies for their next journey into the beast tribe forests that peppered the land. His steel dao, a traditional Fanrong broadsword, leaned against the tree, as the whispering wind passed walked through the tall, oak trees as the smell of summertime pine rested around him.
Ling leaned back, his blue eyes closed as his mind wandered back home. Back to the dense jungle where his red panda friends leapt vine to vine, back to the beautiful scenery of the mountainside waterfalls and serene lakes and most important, back to the mouth watering steam buns that he’s missed for so long. A soft smile appears on his face as he continues his week without a single incident that puts him in mortal danger.
Then a rustle came from the brushes.
No, just ignore it. It’s just an animal, it’ll pass. Ignore it… I can’t be bothered today.
The rustle came closer, as footsteps and yelling followed in that direction.
God dammit. Okay. if I just stay very, very still they probably won’t even notice me!
It was then, a young woman tumbled right in front of Ling. She wore commoners clothing, evident by the hempen fibres that prickled her soft, peach coloured skin. Her piercing red eyes were veiled by her shoulder length dark violet hair that was swept to one side behind her ears. Grim, sweat and blood marbled her fair skin as her breath was frantic and exasperated. Her beauty was that of a noble, but the image before Ling told a different story.
Well, shit.
Melody looked straight at Ling, her eyes that of fear, but yet held a sense of determination that immediately struck the wayward swordsman. Just for a moment, the two locked eyes, but as quickly as the moment came, it had passed as Melody then turned, and continued to sprint through the trees. Her black tattered cloak weaved through the trees like a spirit in the night.
The footsteps behind her become more and more apparent.
Don’t move. Just sit still. It’s none of my business anyways.
The footsteps trailed closer.
Four, maybe five people? She sure seems popular.
Shouting and the sounds metal grinding against metal became louder.
Don’t do it, Ling. Don’t move. Just stay. Still.
Ling began to grab his blade.
None of your business, Fung and Liu would give me an earful.
Ling stood up and turned to the direction of the young woman.
God dammit.
And the Fanrong swordsman ran. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him. Through the oak trees, and blueberry bushes. His crimson red cloak flowed in the wind, his traditional boots lept and hopped across the large roots and shrubs. His black saam clung to his chest against the wind, his left hand holding his dao Ling kept running until he found himself beside the young woman he was so desperately chasing.
“Afternoon!” Ling hollered, running beside her, grinning ear to ear.
Melody turned and looked in shock, then stopped dead in her tracks.
“Who are you! Did he send you?” Melody slowly backed away against a tree, her eyes scanning around for an exit.
“Whoa, whoa, my name is Ling. No one sent me, you just passed me, don’t you remember? That was like… thirty seconds ago,” Ling retorted, crossing his arms.
Melody narrowed her eyes, as the man before her stood arms crossed, not seeming to be lying. However, she didn’t want to risk it, for she had running for too long to be caught because of a stupid mistake.
“If you care for your safety, you’d let me go now,” Melody’s voice shook, as she drew a blade she had concealed in her cloak. She clasped her hands on the sword, her few months of training alone with the blade has given her some handle on how to use it. Though she’s never had to use it before.
Ling sighed, “Your stance is all wrong. Your balance is off and you’re supposed to keep your shoulder relaxed.”
Melody winced at the remark while glaring angrily at Ling, trying not to be annoyed by the man that was taunting her.
But before she realized, the five men that was trailing her had found their way to the cornered runaway.
“Melody, please. Come with us, you’re needed back home,” said one of the men. He was a little on the older side, his greying beard and receding hairline suggested he was in his mid forties. His armor, much like his compatriots were leather half plate, with their shoulders, chest and hips covered with a thin shaft of steel. However this gentleman wore a badge that suggested he was leading the band of men.
“I won’t go back. I will never. Go back,” Melody turned her blade towards the five men. She needed to run, she needed to get out. There was no way she could handle six men, let alone five.
“Well, it looks like the young lady doesn’t want to go with you guys,” Ling spoke up, turning his gaze to the leader, “if she doesn’t want to go willingly, then it should be her right to go.”
“You have no business in the matter, fanny,” one of the members spoke. Ling tensed at the derogatory remark.
“I believe we could do without those sorts of remarks,” Ling’s voice went from a playful, relaxed tone to a very cold and commanding one. Despite his soft voice, the soldier that made the insult recoiled slightly, looking away from Ling.
“I apologize for my subordinate, he will be... punished later for his offensive words. But I do understand his sentiment,” the leader spoke once more, his deep, booming voice tried to match Lings.
“Did she steal something from you?” Ling questioned.
“No,” the leader responded.
“Did she kill someone?”
“No.”
“Did she commit high treason?”
“No, she did not.”
“Tell me then first, why are you chasing after her,” Ling began to walk in between the party of men and Melody, whose hands have begun to shake on her steel blade.
“She belongs to someone, and this person wants her back,” replied the leader.
“Belongs to someone?” Ling questioned, his voice was starting to become more agitated, “is this slavery?”
“No, she is betrothed to Francis Vermillion, and he strongly requests her presence back home so that they can marry,” the sergeant responded.
Ling stood still, not moving a muscle.
Keith stopped for a moment, before attempted to appeal to Ling’s greed, "There is a monetary reward for her return.”
“I’m not interested,” Ling bit his lip. Arranged marriages he understood. It reminded him of back home… but the woman always had a choice. This ownership over them. It was barbaric, it was cruel and Ling’s rage welled up like a volcanic eruption for a moment, then as quick as he was to get angry, he became serene once more.
“What’s your name?” Ling asked.
“My name is Sergeant Keith Bridham,” the leader responded.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Ling turned around and smiled softly at the young lady behind him.
“What’s your name?”
Melody remained tight lipped, she got someone in trouble again. He’s probably going to die, she thought. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of her. Maybe if she just ran they’d ignore him, but for some reason her legs couldn’t run, She wasn’t sure if she was safe or terrified.
“Don’t get involved, please. If you just step aside and let me run they won’t hurt you,” Melody begged, her eyes looked straight into Ling’s.
“You know that’s twice today you didn’t give me a straight answer,” Ling chuckled softly, “what’s your name?”
“M...Melody,” the young lady responded and looked to her feet, “please, just stay out of this. I can’t have anyone get hurt.”
“Oh it’s too late for that,” Ling’s grin was plastered ear to ear on his face as he turned back to the band of men before him. Extended his left arm that held his dao and drew his blade. The party of men whispered amongst each other and began to draw their weapons as well.
“You should have stepped aside when you have the chance,” Keith spoke disappointedly, unsheathing his longsword.
A moment passed, as silence fell upon them all. And with a rustle of the wind, two of the soldiers went charging at Ling, their short swords brandished.
Ling took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His left leg stepped back with his sword arm extending forward. His body relaxed entirely, as his free hand held his scabbard alongside his forearm. His thighs tightened, his stance lowered, shifting the weight of his body on his back leg as his chest leaned forward as a counterweight.
The faster of the two mercenaries lunged at the Fanrong man before him. His arm slamming downward, arming for Ling’s chest. As if time stood still, Ling slipped to his side, his whole body moving as one, as his back leg shifted its weight to the forward one, pivoting his body just barely such that the blade from the mercenary’s stroke barely missed his body. The soldier reeled back immediately, backstepping away from his target to prevent a counterattack. as his compatriot went for a flank against Ling.
Ling, once again, shifted his body’s weight from one side to the other, pivoting his chest so that his dao met with the soldier’s broadsword. The two blades intersected, as the ever calming noise of steel clashing steel rung in Ling’s ears. As the wayward swordsman parried the attack effortlessly, the soldier that attacked him earlier had already began to charge him yet again.
As the two soldiers before Ling began their two pronged attack, Ling extended his sword arm forward, as the first soldier swung at his chest and the other came around to attack his shoulders. Ling backstepped the first strike, the blade barely touching the silk fibres on his shirt, and spun around on his heel whilst spinning his dao around him, parrying the second strike entirely. Whilst using the momentum of his spin, Ling spun body and with one fell cleave, Ling had separated the two soldier’s heads from their bodies.
Melody stood there, stunned. The artistry, the grace and elegance of the way the man stood before her had just killed two soldiers she had been running away from for the last year of her life. The way he moved, it was like water. It was fluid, there was no wasted movement and there was no hesitation. The way his body flowed and shifted reminded her of a calm flowing stream leading to a gigantic waterfall.
Ling remained silent, his blue eyes gazing upon the three remaining men in front of him. Despite what he had just done, with fresh blood splattered on his clothing, face and blade, his eyes remained still and serene like the ocean on a midsummer’s day.
The two other soldiers immediately screamed, “You fucking fanny, you goddamn yellow skinned fucking fanny!”
The two had no restraint, they both recklessly charged and swung their blades in a flurry of blows against the blue eyed swordsman.
Ling swung his blade to meet theirs, his movements swift and agile. The two soldiers tried to find an opening, but Ling would step backwards, then sideways, and hopped over roots that they didn’t even notice. Ling would be untouchable, his dodges and movements were like the wind, they floated and curved around their blades. And whatever blows the soldiers finally managed to connect, the full force of their strikes were parried and deflected so that their strength angled away from Ling’s body.
This continued so long that the soldiers were out of breath, exhausted and barely maintaining proper stances. Ling, however, remained calm, collected and still. His stance unwavering, his blade steady and his breath controlled. One of the soldiers ran forward, his arm swung behind his head for an incredibly telegraphed strike. Before the man knew it, Ling had already stepped inward, his sword held close to his chest as the Fanrong swordsman thrust straight into the soldier’s heart. The momentum of the reckless charge propelled him straight into blade.
With that thrust, Ling cleanly slid his blade out of the body from his recent kill and rushed at the other soldier still catching his breath. As the exhausted fighter tried to block, Ling had already closed the distance and eviscerated the soldier cleanly across the abdomen. As Ling left the man to his fate, he turned and faced Keith - Ling’s eyes still as still as the ocean.
“Classic Fanrong martial arts.” Sergeant Keith spoke up, “such defensive tactics would never do well on a battlefield.”
Keith would have then stepped forward, his broad physique would tower over Ling’s slim body.
“I’ve sparred against many your kind, and I have to say I am not impressed,” Keith would point his longsword at Ling, “but this will be the first time I’ve fought one to the death.”
Ling would shift his stance once more.
Keith would slowly walk towards, his longsword resting on his right shoulder as both of his hands grasp the hilt. The two swordsman would circle around each other. Keeping their lines of attack open and guarding their own. There would be a brief moment of tension when one would test the waters, but Ling knew this sergeant was an experienced combatant.
In an instant, Keith had lunged forward and in the same movement swung his blade down onto Ling across his chest. As Ling crouched under the blow, Keith used the momentum of his charge and the opening of Ling’s evasion to slam his leg into the Fanrong swordsman’s body.
Ling slid back, clutching his chest. The steel plated boots left a deep impression in his shirt.
“Nothing to say now?” Keith taunted, reassuming his stance.
Ling would close his eyes once more, exhale and then open his eyes. His once serene gaze became an aggressive, almost primal glare.
Keith, a little unsettled, continued his goading, “What’s a matter? Angry? I thought Fanrong martial arts prided serenity and a good handle on their emotions.”
As Keith finished his sentence, Ling had already charged forward. Keith, caught by surprise, still managed to intercept the first blow. However, with the first strike, came another. and quickly following was a torrent of ravaging, vicious blows that forced Keith back.
Ling’s blade swung and slashed at Keith’s centre mass, as the hulking man began to lose his footing and slowly pushing Keith further and further behind. This rage, this ferocity was unheard of against Fanrong combatants. This style, it mimicked that of a relentless beast, but had the precision and calculation of a predator. It was as if a panther had awoken inside Ling and begun his hunt against the unassuming sergeant.
Keith would try to counter, but Ling had already repositioned on Keith’s flank. The asian swordsman’s blinding speed would be coupled with his unrelenting blows. The dao’s broad and curved tip would provide the much needed slashing force that many thrusting swords could not mimic. The Fanrong broadsword would flash and blind Keith, as soon he could not see where the attacks were coming from.
Keith had to adapt, and would then begin unleashing a series of strikes of his own, but much to his surprise, Ling’s primal rage became as still as the sea once more, as the fluidity of his movements and stances would wrap around Keith’s sword but never touch it. When Keith attempted his previous strategy of creating an opening for strikes of opportunity, Ling would resume his torrent of blows. Everytime he tried to strike, Ling would revert to becoming like water, as his strikes would be as futile as trying to stab the rain.
Keith was running out of options quick, and it didn’t take long before he realized he was completely outmatched. He began to survey his surroundings, looking for an exit, but as his eyes wavered from Ling, it had become his last mistake.
Ling had rushed forward, his cloak becoming like the wind around him and as Keith tried to scream, the sensation of cold steel was pierced into his neck, as warm blood flowed onto his body. Keith felt weak, then cold, and then numb. And as he dropped to his knees, all he heard was Ling sheathing his blade as the wind whistled in his ears one final time.
Ling would then walk over to the terrified Melody. Her hands still clasping onto her blade, however it shook vigorously in her hand. As Ling stepped towards Melody, the terrified woman would inch further and further back. Her eyes darting to the dead bodies then back to Ling, trying to remain composed but a look of dread outlined her face.
“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” Ling would smile softly. Melody would relax a little, “I mean, technically you should thank me.”
Melody glared once again, her lips pursed, though she would feel less anxious about what might happen to her.
“Look, I know a thing or two about ownership and claiming ownership over people, it really looked like you didn’t want to go back and they didn’t seem to want to take you back peacefully,” Ling then took out a small piece of cloth and wiped off the blood stains that painted his skin.
Melody continued to glare with her red, crimson eyes, “If you wanted thanks… well. Thank you.”
The young woman would begin to back away slowly, her sword lowered but still pointed in the general direction of Ling.
A rustle from the trees behind Ling forced Melody once again to be on guard.
“Master Ling! Are you okay?” a feminine figure appeared behind Ling, inspecting the blood stains on the wayward swordsman.
“I’m fine, Liu, I was barely touched,” Ling responded.
“Did she do this?” Liu brandished two blades from her back and stand in front of Ling, glaring at Melody whose blade was still drawn.
Another figure appeared, this time it was an older gentlemen with white hair and a haggard beard.
“Master Ling, do you require medicine?” his voice was calm and sounded like it was the wind flowing through the mountains.
“Stand down, Liu,” Ling would put a hand on her shoulder, “and I’m fine Fung, really, I am.”
Melody, finding her chance to escape, begins to turn around but in her haste her foot had snagged onto a root of a tree, causing her to fall flat on her face.
Ling rushed to Melody’s side, at Liu’s disdain, but as Melody turned around, she revealed a large wound that she had attempted to bandage up earlier began to tear open once more.
“You’re hurt,” Ling stated.
“Stay away from me,” Melody would try to crawl away, but the opening wound prevented her from moving too much.
“Master Ling, it appears she does not want our help,” Fung would state, “perhaps we should respect her wishes.”
“Fung, the salve,” Ling would begin.
“Master Li-”
“Fung. The salve. Now.”
“Understood.”
The elder man grabs a small clay pot from inside of his cloak and hand it over to Ling.
Ling opened the pot, showing a greenish gray paste inside, “Either you put this on the wound yourself, or I will pin you down and put it on you myself. The choice is yours.”
Melody glared back at Ling, she would try to decline but the pain from the wound and the blood she had lost prevented her from declining the aid. Melody nodded accepting the salve that was placed in her hand by Ling.
“It will sting, but it will seal the wound and help it heal,” Ling stepped away from Melody.
As Melody began to unwrap bandage around the wound to apply the salve, Ling would speak up.
“Teachers open the door, you must enter it yourself,” said Ling, “an old Fanrong proverb.”
Melody would look up, perplexed.
“I can teach you, I know you’re independent and I respect that,” Ling continued.
“Teach me what,” Melody narrowed her eyes.
“How to handle the sword. To defend yourself, so that next time you won’t need to be lucky and come across me,” Ling would grin playfully. Melody glared in return.
“Master Ling, I highly disagree with this course of action,” Liu would protest.
“Liu,” Ling stared straight into her eyes, “that’s enough.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” Liu bowed and look away.
Melody, laid still for a moment, reflecting on the events that had just transpired. This was the closest she had ever been to being caught, and there was truth to the fact that if Ling was not here, she might have been strapped to a horse and sent back home to where she dreaded most. She wanted to be stronger, so that she would not have to rely on anyone to defend herself. More importantly, so that no one would ever be hurt again due to her weakness.
“I accept your proposal,” Melody nodded.
“Excellent,” Ling clapped his hands and smiled, “Fung, do you have one of those old scrolls on how to teach people how to use a sword? I have no idea where to start.”
And suddenly, Melody began to regret the choice she had just made.
It was another quiet afternoon in the forests that Ling had become so accustomed to. Laying against the tree, he spent his morning lounging and relaxing underneath the endless branches above. His black, short sideswept hair rested atop his head, the shade blanketing his tanned peach skin. Fung, his butler and Liu, his bodyguard had gone to town nearby to gather supplies for their next journey into the beast tribe forests that peppered the land. His steel dao, a traditional Fanrong broadsword, leaned against the tree, as the whispering wind passed walked through the tall, oak trees as the smell of summertime pine rested around him.
Ling leaned back, his blue eyes closed as his mind wandered back home. Back to the dense jungle where his red panda friends leapt vine to vine, back to the beautiful scenery of the mountainside waterfalls and serene lakes and most important, back to the mouth watering steam buns that he’s missed for so long. A soft smile appears on his face as he continues his week without a single incident that puts him in mortal danger.
Then a rustle came from the brushes.
No, just ignore it. It’s just an animal, it’ll pass. Ignore it… I can’t be bothered today.
The rustle came closer, as footsteps and yelling followed in that direction.
God dammit. Okay. if I just stay very, very still they probably won’t even notice me!
It was then, a young woman tumbled right in front of Ling. She wore commoners clothing, evident by the hempen fibres that prickled her soft, peach coloured skin. Her piercing red eyes were veiled by her shoulder length dark violet hair that was swept to one side behind her ears. Grim, sweat and blood marbled her fair skin as her breath was frantic and exasperated. Her beauty was that of a noble, but the image before Ling told a different story.
Well, shit.
Melody looked straight at Ling, her eyes that of fear, but yet held a sense of determination that immediately struck the wayward swordsman. Just for a moment, the two locked eyes, but as quickly as the moment came, it had passed as Melody then turned, and continued to sprint through the trees. Her black tattered cloak weaved through the trees like a spirit in the night.
The footsteps behind her become more and more apparent.
Don’t move. Just sit still. It’s none of my business anyways.
The footsteps trailed closer.
Four, maybe five people? She sure seems popular.
Shouting and the sounds metal grinding against metal became louder.
Don’t do it, Ling. Don’t move. Just stay. Still.
Ling began to grab his blade.
None of your business, Fung and Liu would give me an earful.
Ling stood up and turned to the direction of the young woman.
God dammit.
And the Fanrong swordsman ran. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him. Through the oak trees, and blueberry bushes. His crimson red cloak flowed in the wind, his traditional boots lept and hopped across the large roots and shrubs. His black saam clung to his chest against the wind, his left hand holding his dao Ling kept running until he found himself beside the young woman he was so desperately chasing.
“Afternoon!” Ling hollered, running beside her, grinning ear to ear.
Melody turned and looked in shock, then stopped dead in her tracks.
“Who are you! Did he send you?” Melody slowly backed away against a tree, her eyes scanning around for an exit.
“Whoa, whoa, my name is Ling. No one sent me, you just passed me, don’t you remember? That was like… thirty seconds ago,” Ling retorted, crossing his arms.
Melody narrowed her eyes, as the man before her stood arms crossed, not seeming to be lying. However, she didn’t want to risk it, for she had running for too long to be caught because of a stupid mistake.
“If you care for your safety, you’d let me go now,” Melody’s voice shook, as she drew a blade she had concealed in her cloak. She clasped her hands on the sword, her few months of training alone with the blade has given her some handle on how to use it. Though she’s never had to use it before.
Ling sighed, “Your stance is all wrong. Your balance is off and you’re supposed to keep your shoulder relaxed.”
Melody winced at the remark while glaring angrily at Ling, trying not to be annoyed by the man that was taunting her.
But before she realized, the five men that was trailing her had found their way to the cornered runaway.
“Melody, please. Come with us, you’re needed back home,” said one of the men. He was a little on the older side, his greying beard and receding hairline suggested he was in his mid forties. His armor, much like his compatriots were leather half plate, with their shoulders, chest and hips covered with a thin shaft of steel. However this gentleman wore a badge that suggested he was leading the band of men.
“I won’t go back. I will never. Go back,” Melody turned her blade towards the five men. She needed to run, she needed to get out. There was no way she could handle six men, let alone five.
“Well, it looks like the young lady doesn’t want to go with you guys,” Ling spoke up, turning his gaze to the leader, “if she doesn’t want to go willingly, then it should be her right to go.”
“You have no business in the matter, fanny,” one of the members spoke. Ling tensed at the derogatory remark.
“I believe we could do without those sorts of remarks,” Ling’s voice went from a playful, relaxed tone to a very cold and commanding one. Despite his soft voice, the soldier that made the insult recoiled slightly, looking away from Ling.
“I apologize for my subordinate, he will be... punished later for his offensive words. But I do understand his sentiment,” the leader spoke once more, his deep, booming voice tried to match Lings.
“Did she steal something from you?” Ling questioned.
“No,” the leader responded.
“Did she kill someone?”
“No.”
“Did she commit high treason?”
“No, she did not.”
“Tell me then first, why are you chasing after her,” Ling began to walk in between the party of men and Melody, whose hands have begun to shake on her steel blade.
“She belongs to someone, and this person wants her back,” replied the leader.
“Belongs to someone?” Ling questioned, his voice was starting to become more agitated, “is this slavery?”
“No, she is betrothed to Francis Vermillion, and he strongly requests her presence back home so that they can marry,” the sergeant responded.
Ling stood still, not moving a muscle.
Keith stopped for a moment, before attempted to appeal to Ling’s greed, "There is a monetary reward for her return.”
“I’m not interested,” Ling bit his lip. Arranged marriages he understood. It reminded him of back home… but the woman always had a choice. This ownership over them. It was barbaric, it was cruel and Ling’s rage welled up like a volcanic eruption for a moment, then as quick as he was to get angry, he became serene once more.
“What’s your name?” Ling asked.
“My name is Sergeant Keith Bridham,” the leader responded.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Ling turned around and smiled softly at the young lady behind him.
“What’s your name?”
Melody remained tight lipped, she got someone in trouble again. He’s probably going to die, she thought. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of her. Maybe if she just ran they’d ignore him, but for some reason her legs couldn’t run, She wasn’t sure if she was safe or terrified.
“Don’t get involved, please. If you just step aside and let me run they won’t hurt you,” Melody begged, her eyes looked straight into Ling’s.
“You know that’s twice today you didn’t give me a straight answer,” Ling chuckled softly, “what’s your name?”
“M...Melody,” the young lady responded and looked to her feet, “please, just stay out of this. I can’t have anyone get hurt.”
“Oh it’s too late for that,” Ling’s grin was plastered ear to ear on his face as he turned back to the band of men before him. Extended his left arm that held his dao and drew his blade. The party of men whispered amongst each other and began to draw their weapons as well.
“You should have stepped aside when you have the chance,” Keith spoke disappointedly, unsheathing his longsword.
A moment passed, as silence fell upon them all. And with a rustle of the wind, two of the soldiers went charging at Ling, their short swords brandished.
Ling took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His left leg stepped back with his sword arm extending forward. His body relaxed entirely, as his free hand held his scabbard alongside his forearm. His thighs tightened, his stance lowered, shifting the weight of his body on his back leg as his chest leaned forward as a counterweight.
The faster of the two mercenaries lunged at the Fanrong man before him. His arm slamming downward, arming for Ling’s chest. As if time stood still, Ling slipped to his side, his whole body moving as one, as his back leg shifted its weight to the forward one, pivoting his body just barely such that the blade from the mercenary’s stroke barely missed his body. The soldier reeled back immediately, backstepping away from his target to prevent a counterattack. as his compatriot went for a flank against Ling.
Ling, once again, shifted his body’s weight from one side to the other, pivoting his chest so that his dao met with the soldier’s broadsword. The two blades intersected, as the ever calming noise of steel clashing steel rung in Ling’s ears. As the wayward swordsman parried the attack effortlessly, the soldier that attacked him earlier had already began to charge him yet again.
As the two soldiers before Ling began their two pronged attack, Ling extended his sword arm forward, as the first soldier swung at his chest and the other came around to attack his shoulders. Ling backstepped the first strike, the blade barely touching the silk fibres on his shirt, and spun around on his heel whilst spinning his dao around him, parrying the second strike entirely. Whilst using the momentum of his spin, Ling spun body and with one fell cleave, Ling had separated the two soldier’s heads from their bodies.
Melody stood there, stunned. The artistry, the grace and elegance of the way the man stood before her had just killed two soldiers she had been running away from for the last year of her life. The way he moved, it was like water. It was fluid, there was no wasted movement and there was no hesitation. The way his body flowed and shifted reminded her of a calm flowing stream leading to a gigantic waterfall.
Ling remained silent, his blue eyes gazing upon the three remaining men in front of him. Despite what he had just done, with fresh blood splattered on his clothing, face and blade, his eyes remained still and serene like the ocean on a midsummer’s day.
The two other soldiers immediately screamed, “You fucking fanny, you goddamn yellow skinned fucking fanny!”
The two had no restraint, they both recklessly charged and swung their blades in a flurry of blows against the blue eyed swordsman.
Ling swung his blade to meet theirs, his movements swift and agile. The two soldiers tried to find an opening, but Ling would step backwards, then sideways, and hopped over roots that they didn’t even notice. Ling would be untouchable, his dodges and movements were like the wind, they floated and curved around their blades. And whatever blows the soldiers finally managed to connect, the full force of their strikes were parried and deflected so that their strength angled away from Ling’s body.
This continued so long that the soldiers were out of breath, exhausted and barely maintaining proper stances. Ling, however, remained calm, collected and still. His stance unwavering, his blade steady and his breath controlled. One of the soldiers ran forward, his arm swung behind his head for an incredibly telegraphed strike. Before the man knew it, Ling had already stepped inward, his sword held close to his chest as the Fanrong swordsman thrust straight into the soldier’s heart. The momentum of the reckless charge propelled him straight into blade.
With that thrust, Ling cleanly slid his blade out of the body from his recent kill and rushed at the other soldier still catching his breath. As the exhausted fighter tried to block, Ling had already closed the distance and eviscerated the soldier cleanly across the abdomen. As Ling left the man to his fate, he turned and faced Keith - Ling’s eyes still as still as the ocean.
“Classic Fanrong martial arts.” Sergeant Keith spoke up, “such defensive tactics would never do well on a battlefield.”
Keith would have then stepped forward, his broad physique would tower over Ling’s slim body.
“I’ve sparred against many your kind, and I have to say I am not impressed,” Keith would point his longsword at Ling, “but this will be the first time I’ve fought one to the death.”
Ling would shift his stance once more.
Keith would slowly walk towards, his longsword resting on his right shoulder as both of his hands grasp the hilt. The two swordsman would circle around each other. Keeping their lines of attack open and guarding their own. There would be a brief moment of tension when one would test the waters, but Ling knew this sergeant was an experienced combatant.
In an instant, Keith had lunged forward and in the same movement swung his blade down onto Ling across his chest. As Ling crouched under the blow, Keith used the momentum of his charge and the opening of Ling’s evasion to slam his leg into the Fanrong swordsman’s body.
Ling slid back, clutching his chest. The steel plated boots left a deep impression in his shirt.
“Nothing to say now?” Keith taunted, reassuming his stance.
Ling would close his eyes once more, exhale and then open his eyes. His once serene gaze became an aggressive, almost primal glare.
Keith, a little unsettled, continued his goading, “What’s a matter? Angry? I thought Fanrong martial arts prided serenity and a good handle on their emotions.”
As Keith finished his sentence, Ling had already charged forward. Keith, caught by surprise, still managed to intercept the first blow. However, with the first strike, came another. and quickly following was a torrent of ravaging, vicious blows that forced Keith back.
Ling’s blade swung and slashed at Keith’s centre mass, as the hulking man began to lose his footing and slowly pushing Keith further and further behind. This rage, this ferocity was unheard of against Fanrong combatants. This style, it mimicked that of a relentless beast, but had the precision and calculation of a predator. It was as if a panther had awoken inside Ling and begun his hunt against the unassuming sergeant.
Keith would try to counter, but Ling had already repositioned on Keith’s flank. The asian swordsman’s blinding speed would be coupled with his unrelenting blows. The dao’s broad and curved tip would provide the much needed slashing force that many thrusting swords could not mimic. The Fanrong broadsword would flash and blind Keith, as soon he could not see where the attacks were coming from.
Keith had to adapt, and would then begin unleashing a series of strikes of his own, but much to his surprise, Ling’s primal rage became as still as the sea once more, as the fluidity of his movements and stances would wrap around Keith’s sword but never touch it. When Keith attempted his previous strategy of creating an opening for strikes of opportunity, Ling would resume his torrent of blows. Everytime he tried to strike, Ling would revert to becoming like water, as his strikes would be as futile as trying to stab the rain.
Keith was running out of options quick, and it didn’t take long before he realized he was completely outmatched. He began to survey his surroundings, looking for an exit, but as his eyes wavered from Ling, it had become his last mistake.
Ling had rushed forward, his cloak becoming like the wind around him and as Keith tried to scream, the sensation of cold steel was pierced into his neck, as warm blood flowed onto his body. Keith felt weak, then cold, and then numb. And as he dropped to his knees, all he heard was Ling sheathing his blade as the wind whistled in his ears one final time.
Ling would then walk over to the terrified Melody. Her hands still clasping onto her blade, however it shook vigorously in her hand. As Ling stepped towards Melody, the terrified woman would inch further and further back. Her eyes darting to the dead bodies then back to Ling, trying to remain composed but a look of dread outlined her face.
“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” Ling would smile softly. Melody would relax a little, “I mean, technically you should thank me.”
Melody glared once again, her lips pursed, though she would feel less anxious about what might happen to her.
“Look, I know a thing or two about ownership and claiming ownership over people, it really looked like you didn’t want to go back and they didn’t seem to want to take you back peacefully,” Ling then took out a small piece of cloth and wiped off the blood stains that painted his skin.
Melody continued to glare with her red, crimson eyes, “If you wanted thanks… well. Thank you.”
The young woman would begin to back away slowly, her sword lowered but still pointed in the general direction of Ling.
A rustle from the trees behind Ling forced Melody once again to be on guard.
“Master Ling! Are you okay?” a feminine figure appeared behind Ling, inspecting the blood stains on the wayward swordsman.
“I’m fine, Liu, I was barely touched,” Ling responded.
“Did she do this?” Liu brandished two blades from her back and stand in front of Ling, glaring at Melody whose blade was still drawn.
Another figure appeared, this time it was an older gentlemen with white hair and a haggard beard.
“Master Ling, do you require medicine?” his voice was calm and sounded like it was the wind flowing through the mountains.
“Stand down, Liu,” Ling would put a hand on her shoulder, “and I’m fine Fung, really, I am.”
Melody, finding her chance to escape, begins to turn around but in her haste her foot had snagged onto a root of a tree, causing her to fall flat on her face.
Ling rushed to Melody’s side, at Liu’s disdain, but as Melody turned around, she revealed a large wound that she had attempted to bandage up earlier began to tear open once more.
“You’re hurt,” Ling stated.
“Stay away from me,” Melody would try to crawl away, but the opening wound prevented her from moving too much.
“Master Ling, it appears she does not want our help,” Fung would state, “perhaps we should respect her wishes.”
“Fung, the salve,” Ling would begin.
“Master Li-”
“Fung. The salve. Now.”
“Understood.”
The elder man grabs a small clay pot from inside of his cloak and hand it over to Ling.
Ling opened the pot, showing a greenish gray paste inside, “Either you put this on the wound yourself, or I will pin you down and put it on you myself. The choice is yours.”
Melody glared back at Ling, she would try to decline but the pain from the wound and the blood she had lost prevented her from declining the aid. Melody nodded accepting the salve that was placed in her hand by Ling.
“It will sting, but it will seal the wound and help it heal,” Ling stepped away from Melody.
As Melody began to unwrap bandage around the wound to apply the salve, Ling would speak up.
“Teachers open the door, you must enter it yourself,” said Ling, “an old Fanrong proverb.”
Melody would look up, perplexed.
“I can teach you, I know you’re independent and I respect that,” Ling continued.
“Teach me what,” Melody narrowed her eyes.
“How to handle the sword. To defend yourself, so that next time you won’t need to be lucky and come across me,” Ling would grin playfully. Melody glared in return.
“Master Ling, I highly disagree with this course of action,” Liu would protest.
“Liu,” Ling stared straight into her eyes, “that’s enough.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” Liu bowed and look away.
Melody, laid still for a moment, reflecting on the events that had just transpired. This was the closest she had ever been to being caught, and there was truth to the fact that if Ling was not here, she might have been strapped to a horse and sent back home to where she dreaded most. She wanted to be stronger, so that she would not have to rely on anyone to defend herself. More importantly, so that no one would ever be hurt again due to her weakness.
“I accept your proposal,” Melody nodded.
“Excellent,” Ling clapped his hands and smiled, “Fung, do you have one of those old scrolls on how to teach people how to use a sword? I have no idea where to start.”
And suddenly, Melody began to regret the choice she had just made.