Chapter 26: Killing Intent (1)
Sen stared at Master Feng’s back as the old cultivator walked a short distance away. He had heard Master Feng and Uncle Kho mention killing intent in passing more than once, but never in a way that roused Sen’s curiosity enough to ask. Now, he was regretting that lack of curiosity. On the one hand, the words seemed to have an obvious meaning. On the other hand, Sen was confident that the obvious meaning couldn’t be the answer. If it were, Master Feng wouldn’t have brought it up so specifically. Plus, he had said that they needed to do something about Sen’s own killing intent. The young man couldn’t make sense of that at all. Sure, he had some lingering anger over what the noble brats had put him through, but he was confident that it wasn’t a killing kind of anger. Yet, he couldn’t imagine what else Master Feng could mean.
When Sen realized that Master Feng was staring at him with an expectant look, he roused himself from his mental wandering and walked over to his teacher. Feng looked him over and then made two practice jians appear from his storage ring. Master Feng had instructed Sen to use his actual sword when practicing alone if only to get the right feel for the weapon. When Sen had asked why they didn’t use real blades for sparring, Master Feng had said it was a waste.
“You’ll wear the blade down to nothing by sparring with it all the time. There’s limited benefit to damaging a good blade when you can spar with wooden practice swords. After all, there are trees all over the place up here. You can replace practice blades with an axe, a knife, and a bit of time. You need a smith to make a sword. You need a talented smith to replace a good sword.”
It had been another one of the moments when Sen realized how much he still didn’t know about the world. He imagined that people who grew up around swords knew things like that almost by instinct. He had to learn it all, usually by asking questions that left him feeling stupid, embarrassed, or both. Still, he’d learned his lesson about not asking things. Initially, Master Feng grew annoyed with Sen’s barrage of questions. The man’s answers would grow curt after a time, and Sen would recognize that he needed to stop. Then, he’d overheard a conversation between Master Feng and Uncle Kho.
“You need to stop getting angry at the boy for asking so many questions,” said Uncle Kho, always a calm eye in the storm of life.
“I would if he would stop asking so many mundane questions.”
“They aren’t mundane to him.”
There was a very long pause before Feng spoke again. “I suppose they aren’t.”
For the next minute or two, there was a furious exchange of attacks and counterattacks, punctuated by the occasional desperate roll on Sen’s part to avoid attacks that would have struck him in the head or otherwise left him semi-injured. Then, Master Feng stepped back. He nodded at Sen.
“You’ve attended your lessons well. Your blade work is focused and controlled. You don’t let setbacks fray that control either. It’s all of the technical mastery I’d expect after a year and a half of near-daily training. Unfortunately, that’s only part of the equation. When you come up against people with experience, you aren’t just up against their skills. You’re also up against their killing intent. You can think of it as their will to kill and willingness to kill, but it goes beyond that. A powerful killing intent is almost a weapon in its own right. In the right hands, it can literally sharpen a dull blade or drive an enemy into an emotional stupor. And you don’t have it.”
Sen opened his mouth to defend himself in some way, but Feng waved him off.
“It’s not a criticism, Sen,” offered Master Feng. “It’s just a fact. Unless I’m entirely mistaken, you’ve never been put in a position where you really had to think about killing someone or actually kill someone. Am I wrong?”
Sen sighed and shook his head. “No, master.”
Master Feng nodded. “Still, it is something you need to understand and develop. As with many things, experience is the best teacher. So, this is killing intent.”
One moment, Sen was trying to muster up some kind of response to Master Feng. The next moment, a feeling washed over him that made his heart stop. It felt like the gaze of a vengeful god had just fallen on him. Worse, that god had decided that the world would just be a better place without Sen in it. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything. Then, it was gone, and the point of Master Feng’s practice blade was pressing gently into the hollow at the base of Sen’s neck. Sen couldn’t even find words at first. When he finally could, he felt defeated.
“How? Where can I possibly learn something like that?”
Feng gave him a grim look and pointed toward the gate in the wall. “You’ll learn it out there, on the mountain.”
