My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 175: Three Moves

When Cheng Banshan crouched down, his empty sleeve slipped halfway out from behind his waist. He nudged it back with his chin, then set three fingers of his one hand on Jiang Wanʼs left wrist.

First day of the sixth month, Mao hour. Some people in the stone chamber still hadnʼt gotten up. Shi Poʼs long breaths and Qian Duoduoʼs teeth grinding sounded out every so often. There were no lamps on the walls; daylight slanted in through the doorway, enough to see by.

Cheng Banshan held the pulse for a while, then shifted position and pressed below her right ribs through her clothes. As he pressed, his eyes stayed fixed on her face.

Jiang Wanʼs eyes were open. She didnʼt flinch, didnʼt make a sound.

”Insideʼs healed.” Cheng Banshan pulled his hand back. ”Your qiʼs come back too. Ten days without moving, and itʼs actually settled lower.”

”My hands didnʼt move,” Jiang Wan said. ”My eyes didnʼt stop.”

Cheng Banshan looked at her but didnʼt take that up. He wiped his hand twice on his knee. ”Ten days without holding a sword, your handʼs gone rusty. Rotate the wrist first—donʼt go full force the moment you start. You can hold a sword today.”

Jiang Wan picked up the sword from the stone beside her and drew it half a foot from the sheath. The daylight fell right across that stretch of blade. She stared at her own wrist for a moment, then slid the sword back in. The sheath mouth clicked.

”What is it.”

”Heavy.”

”Ten days without gripping anything—of course itʼs heavy.” Cheng Banshan pushed off the ground to stand and tucked his empty sleeve back behind his waist. ”The medicine box is empty. Iʼll mix more when we get back. Say something if it hurts.”

”It doesnʼt.”

”Say something if it hurts.” He said it once more, then headed for the door.

Xu Yan stepped half a pace aside at the entrance. Cheng Banshan passed him and dropped a low line: ”Watch her. Donʼt let her go full strength out there alone.”

Xu Yan acknowledged.

The stone chamber went quiet for a while. Jiang Wan sat on the edge of her bedroll without moving, the sword resting across her lap, one hand pressed on the sheath mouth. She drew it out a fraction, pushed it back; drew it out again, pushed it back. The sheath clicked three times, the sound crisp in that stone room.

Du Xiaochuan, sleeping at the far edge, rolled over and turned his face to the wall.

She reached behind herself and pressed the spot below her right ribs, then let go. The place where the sword leaned against the stone wall had been worn to a pale white mark by the scabbard—ten days of her leaning it there and back again, scraping past it more than once.

People in the stone chamber got up one after another. Qian Duoduo untied a bundle: the coarse grain cakes were so hard you couldnʼt break them, had to soak them in the pool first before dividing. He soaked Jiang Wanʼs piece the longest, fished it out and squeezed it to check, then handed it over: ”Soft.”

Jiang Wan took it, broke it in two, and slowly chewed one half in her mouth.

Bai Xiaoman crouched by the pool, five pebbles laid out in front of her. She pressed them one by one into cracks between the stones. On the fifth, her hand paused briefly before letting go; the pebble landed among the other four, half a fingerʼs width off center.

”The fifth one was faster,” Jiang Wan said.

Bai Xiaoman looked up. ”I did what Senior Brother Huo said—relax the hand first, then release.”

”You relaxed too early,” Jiang Wan said between chews. ”The moment the pebble leaves your fingers, the wrist still has to carry it. Once the strengthʼs gone from your hand, it drifts on its own.”

Bai Xiaoman pried the pebble out and pressed it again. This time it landed dead center. She looked up.

”Do that ten more times,” Jiang Wan said. ”Then youʼll remember how this one landed.”

Qi Qi came out of the stone chamber, his shoe heels not yet pulled up. He looked up, saw Jiang Wan with the sword in her hand, and backstepped two paces. ”Senior Sisterʼs holding a sword today? Iʼll stand farther back.”

”Standing that far, can you even see.”

”Better if I canʼt.” Qi Qi stamped his heels flat.

Shi Po had been crouched by the pool drinking. He swallowed the mouthful of water, glanced back once, then turned away again.

Qian Duoduo counted the remaining cakes on the stone slab, then came over with a water flask and asked Jiang Wan, ”Senior Sister, the day we head out—how many will you eat?”

”Youʼre making a hot batch?”

”A hot batch, first pot goes to the people on the mountain first.” Qian Duoduo said, ”How many so I can plan.”

”Three.”

”Three.” Qian Duoduo acknowledged, then turned and yelled toward the pool, ”Shi Po, five for you.”

Shi Po nodded. Didnʼt ask why.

At Chen hour, the daylight on the stone plaza came full. Wind passed over the plaza from above, carrying the cold air off the pool.

Huo Qing was there, same as every day. Left hand thrust, retract; when he started, his left shoulder barely moved, right arm hanging at his side, perfectly still. Shi Po shifted over to three paces away and crouched, counting one by one.

Jiang Wan walked over and stopped in the middle of the stone plaza. Her right foot landed first, the heel grinding a half-circle on a worn-smooth stone until it found a shallow groove, then she settled. Right hand held the sword, undrawn. ”Huo Qing. Come.”

Huo Qing sheathed his sword, turned, and glanced toward the stone chamber door.

Xu Yan stood by the door. Didnʼt stop him.

A few more people came out of the stone chamber and stood beyond the center of the plaza—none of them came forward. Bai Xiaoman clutched the hem of her clothes. Qian Duoduo held the water flask, forgetting to put it down.

”Three moves.” Cheng Banshanʼs voice came from the chamber doorway. ”No more than that.” A pause, then he added, ”And no slapping people with the flat of the blade, either.”

Jiang Wan didnʼt look back.

Huo Qing started. This thrust was one heʼd drilled for two days until his limbs moved on their own: shoulder still, waist moving first, sword coming straight, the tip not wavering.

Jiang Wanʼs wrist dropped. The sword left the sheath, and she parried horizontally, her blade running along his rather than meeting force with force. Instead she yielded half a fraction toward his wrist, deflecting his strength off to the side. Huo Qingʼs sword slid along the spine of hers and veered away, cutting out past the edge of the stone plaza.

The two swords rang once when they touched, very short. After that, nothing.

The second thrust came faster than the first. Jiang Wan retreated half a step, heel down first, toe after, and met it at an angle, deflecting his blade half a foot off line. That one put real force into her wrist—the web of her hand went numb, the numbness running to her forearm. She shifted the hilt in her grip and re-curled her fingers.

At the doorway, Shao Ming shifted his weight forward.

”One more move,” Cheng Banshan said from the door.

When the third thrust came, she didnʼt retreat. Her sword tip darted forward and landed squarely on the flat of Huo Qingʼs blade. Both swords hung frozen in midair. Huo Qing tried to flip his wrist back. Couldnʼt.

No circle on the stone plaza, no incense stick, no one calling stop.

Jiang Wan withdrew first. On the withdrawal she raised her right hand a little higher than usual, then glanced at it herself.

”Steadier than that day on the riverbank,” she said.

”Mm.”

She tilted her chin at his sword. ”On the retraction of the second thrust, your hand still hooked. And the pause between thrusts was too long.”

Huo Qing looked down at his hand, then back up. ”Mm.”

”Three moves—” Shi Po counted it out loud from his spot, like he was announcing it for everyone on both sides.

Bai Xiaoman came over to look at Jiang Wanʼs right hand. ”Senior Sister, does it hurt?”

Jiang Wan opened her hand. A red line ran across the web between thumb and forefinger. No broken skin.

”Itʼs red,” Bai Xiaoman said.

”Ten days without holding anything. The redness will fade in a bit.”

Cheng Banshan came over, set three fingers to her left wrist, then turned her hand over to look at the red line. ”The wristʼs warm. Go soak it in cold water until noon.”

”Three moves means three moves.”

”I said it. No more.”

Shao Ming had been leaning against the stone by the chamber door the whole time. Only now did he speak: ”That half-step retreat on the second move was right. With a whole realm between you, if sheʼd taken it head-on, the wrist wouldʼve given out first.”

”You hear that?” Jiang Wan said to Huo Qing.

Huo Qing nodded once, then carried his sword back to the center of the plaza. Cheng Banshan walked back to the chamber door, squeezed the empty medicine box in his hand once, crushed it flat, and tucked it inside his robes.

Xu Yan stood at the door and watched all three moves from beginning to end. He could read things a little more clearly now than a month ago: that half-step on the second move was her own doing, heel landing first, solid; the third moveʼs sword tip had landed above the hand guard, and striking there meant the opponentʼs wrist couldnʼt turn over.

He could see it clearly, and he could also see that neither of them had used full strength in those three moves. Cheng Banshan was counting moves and watching over two hands—not counting wins or losses.

Huo Qing went back to training on the stone plaza. This time his hand came back straight on the retraction, and the pause between thrusts was shorter.

”The pause got shorter,” Shi Po said. Heʼd been interrupted mid-count earlier, so he simply started over from the beginning.

Bai Xiaoman finished her ten repetitions. The fifth was still off. She pried the pebbles out one by one and rearranged them in front of her knees. Qian Duoduo filled the water flasks one after another and lined them up by the pool, then counted them again once he was done.

The daylight shifted over the stone plaza, and the layer of chill that had been clinging to the stones receded. Huo Qingʼs shoe soles swept two shallow arcs across the ground. Once, then again.

Xu Yan went through the inventory in his head: cakes still enough, water enough, all ten people accounted for, the red line on Jiang Wanʼs hand would fade by noon. The words about going farther down—those he hadnʼt said yet.

These past ten days heʼd been on the Chou-Yin watch, and her shift had stayed empty; every time he sat down at night, heʼd first glance at that flat stone where no one sat.

When the three moves were done, Jiang Wan didnʼt go straight back to the stone chamber. She found a flat stone on the side by the pool and sat down, the sword across her knees, one hand stroking up and down the scabbard.

At Si hour she stood, sword in hand, and walked back to the chamber entrance.

Xu Yan stood by the door. She stopped beside him, half a pace away. She didnʼt speak, just looked at him once.

Xu Yan unhooked the water flask from his waist and handed it over. Inside was pool water. Cold.

She took it, tipped her head back, drank in a rush, her throat working twice, then pressed it back into his hand, passed him, and went into the chamber. A while later, there was a sound from inside: the sword leaning against the stone wall. Then, after another pause, a second sound—as if it had been picked up and moved over by her bedroll.

Bai Xiaoman followed to the door and asked quietly, ”Sect Master, Senior Sister can hold a sword today?”

”She can hold it.”

”So weʼre moving on down soon?”

”Not today,” Xu Yan said.

Bai Xiaoman made a small sound of acknowledgment and went back to the pool.

Shao Ming came over and stopped beside him, watching the man training on the stone plaza. ”That thrust of his today—heavier than on the twenty-eighth.”

”Mm.”

”A whole realm apart, and he still doesnʼt understand what ʼretractʼ means.” Shao Ming said, ”Senior Sisterʼs three moves were teaching him to retract.”

Xu Yan moved his eyes from the plaza, looked at Shao Ming once, then said nothing. He silently checked the dates in his mind: on the twentieth day of the fifth month, at Wu hour, sheʼd collapsed. Twenty-first through thirtieth—ten days. Today was the first. She could lift a sword, had lasted three moves, and only a red line to show for it. The dates added up.

There was one more item filed elsewhere. He didnʼt plan to bring it up today.

Someone at the other end of the stone plaza was packing.

Xu Yan looked up. Outside the stone chamber where the Heavenly Sword Sect was camped, the things spread on the stones had been rolled up. Bundles were being tied one after another, quickly, each knot finished and set down on the stone.

Wei Changge stood by the door, sword across his back, the two knots in the sword-wrapping cloth still untied.

From this end of the stone plaza, the sound of sword practice went on.