Chapter 2: First Blood

The arrow had hit its mark; a pained grunt could be heard coming from above, followed by the snapping of branches doing little to break the assailant's fall. A small boy plopped onto the ground, his left shoulder bleeding from where the arrow had pierced.

The boy remained dazed as Heian marched over to where he lay. Ting could not believe what he had just seen. "Heian! Why'd you do that?"

Heian stayed silent. "He's only a little boy! Hey-" Ting shouted as he began to approach his brother, "He needs help!"

The sounds of quick, raspy breaths came from the injured child, who looked to be no older than ten years old. To Ting's horror, Heian placed the sole of his boot on the boy's throat, pressing down so that he struggled for air.

"Please, I—"

"You're not alone out here," snarled Heian as he brandished a knife. The sash from which he pulled it jingled. The boy continued to struggle valiantly, despite the blood that continued to pump from the wound, turning his jade tunic a crimson red. "And you're no kid just playing in the forest for fun. That much is obvious."

Appalled, Ting took yet another step, ready to lunge at Heian, when the forest suddenly collapsed. Branches split from their trunks, causing the foliage to come showering down on top of them.

Amidst the flurry of green, the pounding of pelt boots striking the dry dirt and the unsheathing of weapons rang through his ears from all directions. To his left, as though worn by a boulder, an especially heavy pair of boots caused the ground to shake tremendously.

A dozen men now surrounded them, some with swords drawn, the rest with bows aimed directly at Heian. One in particular — a large framed, bearded man wielding a halberd nearly as tall as himself — tramped forward, first glaring at Ting, then turning his attention to his brother. The now unconscious boy beneath his feet appeared to be of no concern to him.

'Z-Zhou soldiers?' Ting trembled at the thought. The assailants wore no such symbols that would be indicative of such, but the weaponry they wielded resembled that of the emissaries who had visited their village on many occasions.

The large man spoke up. "Zhuang scum," he seethed, making it apparent that he could see the heterochromia from which the brothers suffered. "How dare you trample our hallowed grounds with your tainted presence."

Heian answered with a smirk. "Your grounds?" he laughed, "Not anymore they aren't."

That answer alone was enough to drive the man berserk. His eyes seemed to pop halfway out of his head as he chose his next words. "What makes a savage like you—"

Before he even had the chance to finish, Heian's makeshift projectile had hit its mark. Each of the soldiers cried out for their commander as he screamed in agony. A knife lodged itself deep within the man's left eye, piercing it in such a way so that it bled profusely.

Two subordinates, dumbfounded by the unprovoked attack on their superior, charged at Heian with blades in hand. As they honed in on their target, he fell onto his back, using the unconscious boy's body as a cushion before unleashing the two extra daggers hidden in his sash across their throats. Fresh blood washed the ground red, and was soon followed by their limp bodies.

The remaining soldiers looked back at Heian. They trembled in fear at how quickly their comrades were disposed of.

"R-run!" one cried out. He turned away, and the rest of them followed suit, leaving behind their weapons.

"Wrong choice," Heian muttered, his voice barely audible as he picked up a bow that had been abandoned a short distance away.

The first arrow shot straight through one soldier's head, killing him instantly. The rest didn't even realize until they heard the sound of his body collapsing to the ground. A second arrow pierced another behind the shoulder. He spun, then a third went through his throat. It was at that point that Heian gave chase, sword in hand.

As if the soldiers were mere children, he caught up with them faster than any thought possible. He slew a few who had lagged behind, then used their bodies as a platform by which to boost himself toward the next target. "Don't think you can get away from me!" he yelled out, the bloodlust pouring from every pore in his body.

A couple of survivors inadvertently circled back to where their commander had fallen. Ting, who was witnessing the carnage unfold from the sidelines, stood frozen in terror.

"Stop…" he whispered. Never had he seen the only man he looked up to engage in such violence. Never had he thought that his own flesh and blood would mercilessly kill those who had already given up. It was all too much for the boy to bear. "Brother, stop…"

"Die!" Heian charged from behind the men, his heavily bloodied sword aimed at the one closer to him. The soldier screeched as the blade impaled him through the abdomen.

"Brother, please…" Tears now flowed down Ting's cheeks.

The final soldier yelped as the back of his shins were sliced in two. He fell flat onto the ground, but quickly turned to face his killer with pleading eyes. Ting watched as his brother raised his sword, prepared to finish his victim with a strike through the chest.

"Brother…"

At that moment, the air seemed to fall silent. Out of the corner of his eye, in the direction of the second moon, a bright, heavenly glow lit up the sky.

In the blink of an eye, Ting felt an indescribable feeling well up deep from within him — the same that had once beckoned him toward the night sky, now amplified a thousand fold.

With every ounce of strength he had left, he cried out to the heavens. "I said STOP!"