There was something to the life of a Brother, Wu Hao supposed. The cultivation session had ended quietly, without any need to struggle to maintain their qi at a particular position the entire time.

  Now that he was thinking about it, though, what had the point of that been, exactly? It might have been simple cruelty, but that seemed more like something Uncle Bai or Father would do. From the Uncle who'd guided their cultivation, he'd only ever felt indifference at best, never annoyance or pleasure in cruelty or anything like it.

  It might just have been easiest to make them hold at a certain pose, maybe. Uncle had to make his way through hundreds of deathsworn, and it wasn't exactly like he'd ever be able to take on assistants or anything.

  Wu Hao might have stood up and stretched as much as he thought he'd get away with, before he noticed that the others hadn't stood up. Instead, they'd remained sitting in silence, as if waiting for something.

  Or someone, as it turned out. Uncle Liu - the pharmacist whose knives Wu Hao had stolen dozens of times now - had arrived, carrying a scroll underneath his arm. One of the other deathsworn whose number Wu Hao couldn't make out was walking behind him, carrying some sort of holder that he set down onto the ground and pulled open.

  After Uncle Liu shooed that other deathsworn away, he fiddled with a lock on the scroll, and then hung it from the holder. In the failing evening light, another deathsworn brought forward a lamp, and for the first time Wu Hao saw the scroll's contents.

  It was a map of the world, divided roughly into provinces by great, even brushstrokes. Mountains had been marked on the map with thick black shapes, and characters that Wu Hao couldn't actually read had been written all over the map.

  As his eyes wandered, Wu Hao saw that there were a few different authors clearly at work. There was the free, swirling strokes of the province borders, there was the tight and very straight-edged hand that had written down some characters above small black dots and a few of the mountains, and finally there were cramped characters, stuffed wherever notes had apparently needed to be made.

  Wu Hao looked at it with wide eyes and wished he knew what even half of the places depicted were. A different thought occurred to him then, though: he couldn't even remember where he was from. Even if he did, he was sure he couldn't have pointed it out on the map.

  Moments later he had to rein in his reaction before anyone noticed, of course, but still: he was awed by the sheer scale of the world that this represented. Where were they, then?

  Uncle Liu tapped the scroll with one finger. Wu Hao squinted at where Uncle had pointed, managing to make out what he thought was a set of mountains. A character had been written above it, in the second hand. He couldn't read it, but Uncle Liu helpfully spelled it out for him.

  "The Wudang Sect," he said, looking around the group. "One of the Orthodox Sects. They live separated from the world on the Wudang Mountains, hence their name. Their strongest technique is the Taiji Divine Gate Sword, which is passed down only to those who show the potential to become the next sect master."

  He tapped the mountain symbol again.

  "While they are orthodox," he said, "they come down from the mountains with relative regularity to confer with other sects, as well as having a tradition that one must be a wandering swordsman for at least a year before one is allowed to graduate."

  Wu Hao tried not to gape. All he could do was try to open his ears as wide as he could and absorb every speck of information.

  "They are one of the fiercest opponents of the Demon Cult," Uncle Liu said. "In the First Heavenly Demon War, it was the Cloud-Ascending Sovereign who dealt the killing blow. However, with each successive Heavenly Demon War more of their geniuses die and inheritances meant to be passed to the next generations are severed..."

  After half an hour or so the lesson had finished. Uncle Liu had gone through the elders and the notables of the Wudang Sect, had pointed out their major branches, and what their symbol was. He'd even talked about their attempt to relieve the siege of Mt. Hua.

  Then he rolled the scroll up and left while Wu Hao's head was still spinning with all the information he'd just learned. None of the other Brothers seemed all that interested, but even just the fact that an Uncle had taken time out of his day to share what he knew with them was wild to Wu Hao.

  He followed in a daze to the line near the cooking pots, where he was given a stone bowl and wooden chopsticks, and directed to another line, where something that actually had steam coming off it was ladled into his bowl.

  For a moment he wondered if perhaps he was dreaming. Had his lives finally ended with him reaching an afterlife?

  Hesitantly, he secured a vegetable between his chopsticks, raised it to his lips, and bit down, expecting disappointment.

  None was forthcoming.

  Holy shit, he thought, nearly forgetting to eat at all. There was actual flavor in this. He could taste some individual ingredients, which seemed to have been chopped and boiled somewhat. The bitter flavor of medicine that he'd hated for so long was much less present here, as well. Not gone, but either hidden better or maybe just hidden behind having actual flavour.

  When he went to sleep, he was left feeling something that he couldn't remember feeling in a long time. It'd been so long that he barely recognized it, this feeling in his stomach. He felt almost odd without the occasional hunger pang or the protest from his muscles.

  This wasn't contentment, but it was probably the closest he might get to it in the Red Dawn Sect, and all he'd needed to do for it was to beat up 726. If that was all it took, he'd do so even more gladly. He could see it, now, could see the allure of becoming a Brother. What else waited for him, higher up in the ranks? For once he might even have dreamt of what that could look like.

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  The morning proceeded apace, and if anyone noticed Wu Hao's mood as they waited for him to head to Uncle Bai's tent for their mission, they didn't dare to say anything.

  Entering the tent, Wu Hao felt Uncle Bai's eyes land on them.

  "Our apologies, sir," he said, before Uncle Bai could ask. "I had to discipline one of ours."

  Very deliberately he didn't turn his head to stare at 726, who had developed a large bruise all over his jaw.

  Uncle Bai grunted. "See to it that it doesn't happen again. Keep your group in better control next time, or -"

  "If it happens again," Wu Hao said, bowing low, "I'll resign my position myself, Uncle."

  This seemed to actually surprise him; he was silent for a few breaths, then burped. This seemed to signal approval, because he then moved on, eyes turning to the other boys.

  "Listen up, you little shits -"

  Things went as planned, afterwards. Another group was sent on "their" mission, they were pulled along by Uncle Bai to come along with him for reasons Wu Hao could only guess at, and then they were throwing themselves down the mountain trails.

  When they arrived, Wu Hao's back was drenched with sweat. He hadn't enjoyed that as much as the last time, knowing what they were actually waiting for. Did Uncle know, too? He couldn't have, right?

  While he was thinking, Uncle had finished with a quick inspection of the route. He turned to Wu Hao, an annoyed look on his face.

  "Send one of them out," Uncle Bai ordered. "Have them scout ahead over there. Come back in half an hour if you don't find anything."

  "Yes, Uncle," Wu Hao said. He turned, but a thought occurred to him.

  Wasn't he basically sending whoever he picked to their death?

  No, he tried to convince himself. Not if they were good scouts that didn't get spotted. If they didn't get spotted...

  But he remembered the way Ke Jiazhong's eyes had scanned the trees and the shrubs, before he'd released that blast of qi-infused wind that had revealed them all. That man had known that they were hiding. Maybe he hadn't known who had been hiding, and maybe he hadn't known exactly where, but he must have had some feeling that he was being ambushed, one he trusted sufficiently to act on it and use some of his precious qi on it.

  His stomach twisted itself into a knot. Whoever he sent out was going to die.

  He looked around, seeing each of the deathsworn and evaluating them in turn. 729 had been their best scout, but maybe 723 would be better? 720, maybe? It was hard to say, and it was - in theory - his task to make sure that they didn't all die.

  It wasn't a calculation of which of them he liked more. He had felt surges of hate for 726, had never gotten along with 723 or 729, and he'd barely shared a few words with 720, even after becoming Brother. 732 had helped him out, a few times, but that was no basis for worrying about his life or death, wasn't it?

  "Hurry up," Uncle said, voice gaining an irritated edge. "I can see why you were challenged for being a Brother, if your every decision is this goddamned slow."

  "I'll go, Uncle," Wu Hao said, snapped from his thoughts. He spoke before he'd even fully thought things through. "I can't trust any of them."

  Uncle harrumphed. "That's true. If you want something done, got to do it yourself."

  "Yes, Uncle," Wu Hao repeated. "Thank you for the advice."

  "Then go," Uncle snapped, then pointed to 732. "You. Go the opposite direction."

  732 hurriedly nodded his assent and went, haring off into the bushes. Wu Hao had begun to run the moment Uncle had snapped at him, knowing that the man's temper had been short the entire journey.

  He didn't run at full tilt, instead settling into a quick jog that he held up until he was out of Uncle's eyesight and then some. Then he slowed down to a more even pace, proceeding slowly through the forest but never straying too far from the path.

  Normally he was able to hold that pace for an hour or so if he used his qi, but the earlier run had already left him sore and stinking with sweat.

  He leaned against a tree for a while, gulping down deep breaths as he fought to regain control over his body. His rags stuck to his body, still slick with sweat, and he eyed the trees for a moment to see if there was anything edible nearby. A few buds grew from their branches, but he couldn't reach them with his hands. The shrubs were similarly empty except some dried-looking small fruits, and while there were mushrooms nearby Wu Hao was smart enough not to gamble on them being at all edible.

  Wu Hao grumbled to himself that it was easy to ignore hunger if it was all you knew, but hard if you'd eaten a decent meal recently.

  Before long, the rays of the sun began to reach through the canopy, gaining a particular green tint as they passed through the leafage. Wu Hao looked up at the sky, feeling another surge of desire to climb up a tree and just leave, but he couldn't.

  Not while there were still things to do.

  As if that had been a signal of some kind, he heard a very distant crunch - a sound of hooves, maybe, of some advance party riding ahead? The carriage itself? Wu Hao couldn't identify any of it, but neither did he bother.

  Instead, gathering himself up and standing up from the tree that had left a deep green sheen to his clothes, he set back off to Uncle at a run, hoping that he would get there in time.

  This time, he wouldn't fail in freeing the prisoner. This time he wouldn't be caught unaware by Du Linglong.

  This time he'd survive to see tomorrow.