Chapter 5: The Path of Blood

Chapter 5: The Path of Blood

The scent of iron still lingered in the courtyard. Though the bodies had long been removed, the assassins' presence remained like a shadow over the sect. Disciples whispered among themselves, eyes darting toward Wuyao with a mix of awe and unease.

He ignored them.

Dawn had barely broken, but Wuyao was already at the training grounds, his wooden sword carving through the air in precise arcs. His movements were slow, deliberate each strike carrying the weight of countless repetitions.

Faster. Sharper. Deadlier.

The wound on his ribs throbbed, but he welcomed the pain. It was a reminder.

I was too slow.

The assassins had been skilled, but not invincible. Had he been just a little faster, a little stronger he wouldn't have taken that hit. He wouldn't have let one escape.

He exhaled, steadying his grip. Never again.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his focus. Wuyao didn't stop training, but his senses expanded. He already knew who it was.

His father.

Master Sheng stood behind him, arms folded, expression unreadable. He watched in silence as Wuyao executed another flawless sequence, the wooden sword slicing through the air like it was an extension of himself.

Finally, Master Sheng spoke. "Your movements are improving."

Wuyao didn't reply. He simply continued.

His father stepped closer, his voice lowering. "You're still thinking about last night."

Wuyao paused. He turned slightly, meeting his father's gaze. "Of course."

Master Sheng studied him, then let out a quiet sigh. "You held your own. That is enough."

"Is it?" Wuyao's grip on the wooden sword tightened. "I let one escape. I was injured. If more had come, I would've been overwhelmed."

His father's gaze sharpened. "You are not invincible, Wuyao. Even the strongest must learn to retreat when necessary."

Wuyao exhaled through his nose. He understood the lesson. But understanding and accepting were two different things.

Master Sheng continued, "That is why I called for you." He turned, motioning for Wuyao to follow. "Come. Your training is about to change."

They walked in silence, passing through the inner sect toward a secluded mountain path. Few disciples ever came this way. The air was cooler, the trees thicker. The only sounds were their footsteps and the distant rustling of leaves.

Wuyao's curiosity stirred, but he remained patient. His father was not a man to explain things prematurely.

After a long climb, they arrived at a narrow plateau. A lone wooden hut stood at its center, surrounded by training dummies some shattered, others marred with deep gashes.

A man sat outside the hut, sharpening a long, curved blade. His posture was relaxed, but there was something dangerous about him. His robes were old, his hair streaked with gray, but his eyes his eyes were sharp.

Master Sheng stopped a few steps away. "Master Lu."

The man Master Lu looked up. His gaze swept over Wuyao, lingering for a moment before he smirked. "So this is the boy."

Wuyao felt a strange pressure from that gaze, but he stood firm.

Master Lu chuckled. "Stubborn one, aren't you?" He turned to Master Sheng. "You were right. He has the eyes of a survivor."

Master Sheng nodded. "He needs a teacher who can forge him into more than just a survivor."

Master Lu's grin widened. "Then you came to the right man."

Wuyao barely had time to brace himself before the wooden sword came flying at him.

He caught it just in time, feet shifting into a defensive stance. Master Lu had already picked up his own practice sword, rolling his shoulders.

"No hesitation. That's good." Master Lu took a step forward, his posture shifting seamlessly into a combat stance. "But surviving a few assassins doesn't make you a warrior. If you want to truly stand at the top, you'll need more than talent."

His grip tightened.

"Show me what you've got."

Then he attacked.

Wuyao barely had time to react before the wooden sword blurred toward his ribs. He parried on instinct, but the force behind the strike sent a shock through his arms. Before he could adjust, another strike came faster, sharper.

He's fast.

Wuyao deflected again, stepping back to create distance, but Master Lu was relentless. The wooden blade struck again, this time from above. Wuyao raised his guard only to realize it was a feint.

Damn!

The real attack came from below, sweeping toward his legs. He barely avoided it, twisting his body midair before landing in a crouch.

Master Lu grinned. "Not bad. But you're still relying on instinct alone."

Wuyao steadied himself, exhaling through clenched teeth.

Then I'll sharpen my instincts.

He launched forward.

This time, he attacked first, his sword striking out in a precise arc. Master Lu parried effortlessly, but Wuyao didn't stop. He shifted, adjusting his angles, forcing the old master to keep moving.

It was a battle of speed, of reaction one mistake, and he'd be overwhelmed.

Their swords clashed again and again, the sound echoing across the plateau.

Then, suddenly Master Lu stopped holding back.

His speed doubled. His strikes became unpredictable. Wuyao found himself forced onto the defensive, struggling to keep up.

And then

CRACK.

Wuyao's wooden sword snapped in half.

Before he could react, Master Lu's weapon stopped just short of his throat.

Silence.

Wuyao panted, sweat dripping from his brow.

Master Lu studied him for a moment, then smirked. "You have potential. But right now? You're still weak."

Wuyao swallowed the frustration rising in his chest. He wasn't a fool he knew the gap between them was vast. But hearing it still stung.

Master Lu pulled back his sword. "We start at sunrise tomorrow. No complaints, no hesitation. You will train until you break, and then you will train again." His grin turned sharper. "If you survive, you might just become something worth fearing."

Wuyao met his gaze.

Then he grinned back.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."