roccoschili Chapter 36 The Young Man with a Bow
Chapter 36 The Young Man with a Bow
The sword slid out of its sheath in the morning light, its cold gleam flashing briefly before receding.
Zhao Heng simply and naturally turned his wrist slightly, and the heavy real sword drew a smooth and perfect arc in the air. A sword flower suddenly bloomed, the blade cutting through the air and emitting a faint hum.
Ji Cheng's second half of the reminder got stuck in his throat.
Luan Ding was completely stunned. The movement of his wooden sword was slowed down by more than a beat due to the shock in his mind, and he stumbled as Ji Cheng subconsciously parried his sword move.
The two of them stopped their practice at the same time, turned around, and looked at Zhao Heng with surprise and uncertainty.
This sword-drawing and flower-twirling technique was fluid and natural, something a child who had never touched a sword before could never do.
The strength of the wrist, the control of the angle, and even the subtle adjustment of the body's center of gravity all exuded an indescribable skill, as if the movements had been repeated thousands of times.
Zhao Heng seemed oblivious to their surprise.
He paced slowly around the arena, sword in hand, his eyes lowered, fixed on the gleaming blade. Then, he joined two fingers together and gently brushed along the spine, as if feeling the weight and balance of the sword.
Then, he steadied himself, his body slightly lowered, and he naturally made a starting gesture.
The sword tip pointed diagonally at the ground, poised but not yet released. Then, with a slight flick of the wrist, the sword slashed upwards, tracing a semi-circle, while the feet shifted to the side, the body moving with the sword.
The second move flowed seamlessly, the sword nimbly flipping in mid-air, transforming from a subtle upward thrust into a sharp straight stab, before smoothly merging into a horizontal arc, its defensive stance concealed. The third move, the fourth move…
His sword moves flowed in a continuous stream, like a rushing stream. His footwork and body movements were exquisitely coordinated. Although his strength was not yet sufficient due to his age, and his sword style was not particularly fierce, each move was well-structured, combining offense and defense, and already showed the beginnings of sword intent.
Ji Cheng and Luan Ding were dumbfounded.
They had never seen this sword technique before, and none of their retainers practiced it, but they intuitively felt that it was extremely exquisite.
Some moves seem simple, but their angles are tricky; some are complex, but their transitions are natural. Especially Zhao Heng's demeanor when wielding the sword—natural, spontaneous, as if there is some innate tacit understanding between man and sword.
It's hard to say whether man wields the sword or sword guides man.
After more than ten moves, Zhao Heng stood still, sheathed his sword, his breathing slightly rapid, his chest rising and falling slightly, but his eyes were even clearer and more piercing than before.
He looked down at the sword in his hand, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly, with an extremely light and agile flick of the sword tip, he flicked a spare wooden sword into the air.
Zhao Heng stretched out his left hand and caught it steadily without even looking.
At the same time, with his other hand, he swiftly sheathed the real sword, completing the action of picking up and catching the sword in one smooth motion.
Holding the wooden sword, he took two steps back and assumed a starting stance towards Ji Cheng, who was still not fully recovered: "Come on, let's test our skills."
Ji Cheng swallowed hard, the astonishment on his face not yet completely gone. He looked at Luan Ding, who also looked bewildered, and could only return a helpless look.
But the young lord had already drawn his sword and extended an invitation, his stance clearly imposing.
Ji Cheng could only chuckle and say, "Then... I won't stand on ceremony."
Although Luan Ding was still a little confused, he still whispered a reminder from the side: "Ji Cheng, watch your step."
Ji Cheng nodded emphatically, adopting his most familiar fighting stance. In the first few moves, he deliberately held back seven or eight tenths of his strength, his sword movements were slow, and his moves were wide and sweeping, as if afraid of bumping into Zhao Heng.
However, after only three moves, he noticed something was wrong.
Zhao Heng's initial response was somewhat awkward, and his steps were slightly unsteady, indeed resembling that of a novice.
But in those few short exchanges, he adapted to the weight, length, and feel of the wooden sword at an astonishing speed, and his parrying and counter-attacks became increasingly fluid.
Ji Cheng delivered a powerful diagonal slash, but Zhao Heng no longer took it head-on. Instead, he slid to the side to avoid it, and his wooden sword slid down along Ji Cheng's blade, aiming straight for his wrist.
Ji Cheng's heart skipped a beat. He hurriedly withdrew his sword, spun around, and took half a step back to deflect the sudden attack.
After a few more moves, Zhao Heng actually began to take the initiative to attack.
After Ji Cheng easily parried a fairly standard straight thrust, he flicked his wrist, and the sword suddenly flipped, changing the thrust into a slash, attacking Ji Cheng's ribs at a tricky angle, forcing the latter to retreat and dodge again.
After fifteen moves, the two exchanged and separated their wooden swords. Zhao Heng's breathing had gradually become more stable. Although he was still more defensive than offensive when dealing with Ji Cheng, he was able to advance and retreat with ease. He even occasionally took unexpected and simple angles, forcing Ji Cheng to be on his toes.
Ji Cheng's forehead began to sweat again.
He discovered that he needed to concentrate fully to deal with Zhao Heng's seemingly simple but actually tricky sword techniques. Several times, if it weren't for his experience and ability to anticipate his moves, he probably would have been caught off guard.
After exchanging more than ten more blows, Zhao Heng suddenly took a light leap backward, sheathed his sword, and stood still, laughing, "Alright, that's enough."
Ji Cheng let out a long sigh, looking at Zhao Heng with astonishment in his eyes:
"Young lord, when did you learn swordsmanship? This... this is simply amazing... At first, I held back, afraid of hurting you, but later, without using my true skills, I found it quite difficult. And your swordsmanship... is incredibly exquisite, I've never seen anything like it before. It doesn't resemble the style of soldiers, nor does it resemble the techniques of ordinary wandering knights, it's more like... it's like..."
He racked his brains but couldn't find the right words to describe it, and could only shake his head repeatedly.
Luan Ding, standing to the side, was also somewhat alarmed. As an observer, he could better sense Zhao Heng's almost instinctive reactions, especially the terrifying speed at which he adapted and learned from unfamiliarity to proficiency in a very short time.
This was simply not human; it was more like the soul of a seasoned swordsman residing in this young body, rapidly awakening and merging.
Zhao Heng did not answer this unanswerable question.
He walked to the weapon rack, put the wooden sword back in its place, and then tried out the spear, lance, and halberd in turn. But this time, his performance was mediocre; he only displayed the basic stances. Although his movements were not clumsy, they were far from the natural grace he had shown when using the sword.
After trying it out, he put down the halberd and shook his head.
Clearly, his "talent" leans more towards swordsmanship.
"Luan Ding," he turned to Luan Ding, who had been silently watching the battle but whose eyes were now completely different, "bring me a bow."
Luan Ding responded and quickly returned with a bow and a quiver of arrows. It was a half-stone bow, made of mulberry wood and polished very smoothly, intended for beginners or those with insufficient arm strength.
Zhao Heng took it, tested its strength, and shook his head: "Too soft."
Luan Ding changed to a seven-dou (a unit of dry measure) one, but it was still too light.
It wasn't until he switched to a heavy bow with a draw weight of one stone, its shaft noticeably thicker, that Zhao Heng drew the bow, pulling it halfway before nodding: "This one has a bit more weight."
Ji Cheng and Luan Ding exchanged another glance, both seeing the turmoil in each other's eyes.
One stone's worth of strength is close to, or even reaches, the standard bow strength commonly used by an adult infantryman in the Zhao state. The young lord is only eleven years old, his body is still rather thin, and his arms are far from fully grown, yet he can draw it wide, and judging from his expression, he still has plenty of strength left!
When did Shaojun's arm strength become so great?
What was finally handed to Zhao Heng was a powerful bow with a weight of one and a half stone. The bow was noticeably thicker, made of a combination of hardwood and horn, and the bowstring was made of high-quality ox sinew that had been repeatedly soaked in oil and tanned, making it as taut as iron wire.
Zhao Heng tested his strength and nodded: "This is acceptable."
He ignored the almost overflowing shock on Ji Cheng and Luan Ding's faces. He simply focused on feeling every inch of the feedback from the hard bow in his hand, drew an arrow from the quiver, and nocked it to the bowstring.
Then he closed his eyes.
The wind swirled in from afar, carrying the scent of firewood from a distant kitchen at dawn, the chirping of early birds in the trees, and the sounds of daily life gradually awakening in Handan. All these sounds, at this moment, faded into the distance.
In the world, it seems that only the bow in one's hand, the tension of the string, the weight of the arrow, and... the position of the target remain.
Fifty paces away, the bullseye on the target was just a blurry dot in the morning light. But in the darkness with his eyes closed, the dot was as clear as if it were right in front of him.
Breathing slowed, almost ceased.
A warm sensation flowed quietly from his dantian, coursing through his meridians to his arms, wrists, and fingers. That feeling of precise control over his strength, the essentials of archery—the complex and subtle knowledge and understanding of finger techniques, breathing, vision, and power generation—emerged once again as instinctively as ever.
It was as if he had repeated the same action millions of times in countless mornings or evenings in vastly different places such as grasslands, forests, and training grounds.
……
"Miss Zi Nu, this way please. My young master usually studies in his study at this time of day. It's strange today. The servants just said they saw him heading towards the martial arts training ground. Perhaps he's in the mood to watch the guests practice their morning exercises..."
At the entrance gate of the martial arts arena, Fu's mother's gentle voice, accompanied by light footsteps, approached from afar.
She was leading a guest inside, explaining gently as they walked. However, when her words passed the screen wall and her gaze fell on the center of the room, the second half of her explanation abruptly ended in mid-air.
Because she saw the boy in the center of the arena, who was drawing his bow with his eyes closed.
Almost at the same instant that Madam Fu stopped speaking, Zhao Heng, who had been concentrating with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them.
The left arm is as steady as a rock, while the right arm is pulled back.
Drawing the bow is like embracing the moon.
The bowstring was drawn taut, and the bow trembled slightly.
"Whoosh!"
Suddenly, the sound of an arrow leaving the bowstring seemed to tear through the thin morning air and mist, startling two gray sparrows resting on a distant wall.
The next instant, a blurry black shadow, moving at a speed too fast for the naked eye to detect, pierced through the still-lingering cool morning mist of the training ground and headed straight for fifty paces away.
"Take it!!!"
The target shuddered violently. In the bullseye, a white-feathered arrow was deeply embedded in the grass target, the black arrowhead almost completely piercing through the target, its fletching still vibrating rapidly.
Mrs. Fu's mouth was open, and she remained in a half-turned position, but she couldn't utter the second half of her sentence. Her face was filled with disbelief and astonishment.
Beside her, the woman who was still wearing a flowing purple dress and a veil covering her face had stopped walking. Her eyes, visible through the veil, narrowed slightly as she gazed intently at the scene before her.
In the center of the training ground, a young man stood holding a bow. The rising sun shone over the east wall of the courtyard, casting a pale golden light that outlined his figure in a pale golden halo.
The bowstring of the stiff bow in his hand was still vibrating slightly, emitting a barely audible tremor. And on the target fifty paces away, the arrow was deeply embedded in the bullseye, the trembling of the fletching not yet completely subsided.
Ji Cheng and Luan Ding, who were standing to the side, had long forgotten to speak. They just stared blankly at the target that had been hit, and then at the young lord holding the bow. Their expressions were dazed, as if they had witnessed a miracle.
The servants sweeping nearby had already stopped what they were doing and stood there dumbfounded.
Zhao Heng slowly lowered his bow-holding arm, and as if sensing something, turned his head.
Their eyes met from afar.
The morning light was just right, the thin mist had dissipated, and the world was clear and bright.
In the training ground, the young man holding a bow stood quietly, looking back.
Beneath the moon gate at the entrance, a woman in a purple dress stood gracefully, her veil fluttering slightly, her purple eyes gleaming with a subtle light, as if she were pondering a thousand thoughts.
A gentle breeze suddenly arose, swirling up a few fallen leaves that hadn't been swept away. They twirled and drifted leisurely across the sunlit patch of ground between the boy and girl.