The sharp whistle of the wooden sword pierced the cool morning air. A young boy was persistent and had small hands around the wood. There were sweat drops and the wood had gotten stuck on his temples. His arms were shaking. Suddenly the sword fell from his hands and slammed into the packed dirt. He knelt down, gasping for air.
"Haa... haa..."
A quiet voice spoke.
"What was that?"
The boy froze.
An older man stood a few paces away with arms crossed. A good looking man in his mid thirties. His face was calm but there was a faint look of disappointment on his face.
"You are tired already after just twenty-seven swings? Or do you forget the maximum count?"
The boy looked down and didn't see the older man's eyes.
"One hundred."
The older man nodded.
"That's right, now get back and keep going until you reach one hundred."
Not giving a word of protest the younger boy picked up the fallen sword. And he kept going, where he had left off. After he had swung fifty-eight times, the older man looked at the clear look of tiredness on the boy's face and sighed lightly.
"That's enough for now. Go get some rest."
Confusion came across the boy's face but his body protested as it collapsed on the ground. His chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. He couldn't move or even lift a finger for that matter. His master looked over at him. And quietly left him to rest on his own. The boy looked up at the clear blue sky above.
He sighed in relief.
"What a relief, I didn't have to do a hundred swings today. If I had , I think my body would have just shut down and I wouldn't have been able to move a single muscle afterwards."
He had a faint smile appear across his face, but it was soon replaced with a stern look, and in a matter of seconds his face tightened up.
"Wait. I still have chores..."
The happiness didn't last long, it just disappeared. He was tired but he managed to sit up and with a deep groan he did so.
"Why is growing up so difficult?"
The boy slowly got to his feet, brushing the dirt off of his clothes and his body ached with training but he was still tired.
Unfortunately there was still work to be done but as he sighed he walked towards the fields. Out of all the work the master had given him, ploughing the fields was his favorite. There was a rhythm to it and the cool breeze made the tiredness a bit more bearable. The fresh air filled his lungs and he could feel his mind clearing like the fog from the fields had gone.
It was a small comfort but it made the hard work a little more bearable. Once he finished the fields, he went back to the house and swept the wooden floors, cleaning every room, fetching fresh water and finishing the remaining chores one by one. When he was finally done, the golden sun had already begun to fall behind the far away mountains.
"...It's already evening."
So, after getting all the other chores done, the only thing left to do was to make dinner.
The boy entered the kitchen and lit the stove. In no time at all the comforting aroma of freshly made food filled the small house. He prepared two simple meals and carefully placed them side by side on the table. Looking over his work, he gave a small nod of satisfaction.
"Not bad."
A faint smile appeared across his face because this time, for a change he was positive that he hadn't messed anything up. After finishing up with dinner, he grabbed a cloth and wiped the hands he had used to cook and he moved to the room where his master had a preference to stay in his evenings.
He slid the door open and gently entered.
"Master?"
Sat there, calmly, in front of the huge dragon painting. His hands were folded on his knees and he was speaking to it quietly, as if it was someone he knew quite well, someone who would understand everything he said.
The boy blinked.
No matter how many times he saw it, he couldn't understand it and it was not just the painting. Sometimes his master would spend the afternoon talking to the birds outside the window. Sometimes he greeted the stray cats that wandered into the yard as if they were honored guests.
It was strange....very strange.
After spending years together, he had been accustomed to his master's ways and it had become second nature to accept him. Just as he was about to say something, his master turned to him with a gentle and warm smile and for a moment everything else seemed to disappear.
"Sun Yunso, is dinner ready?"
"Yes, Master Su Qing."
"Excellent. Then let us eat."
As the old master made his way to the door, he passed by Sun Yunso with the same peaceful smile that had become so familiar. Sun Yunso, however, couldn't help but take one last look at the dragon painting, and ponder the same question he always did - and what was it about that painting that made his master treat it like an old friend, having normal conversations with it as if it were a real person?
Su Qing's behavior had always been quite strange to Sun Yunso, but at the same time it was a rather comforting sight to see him so at ease with the artwork. He just wasn't interested and decided to drop it and headed to the dinner table instead, following his master. The two sat across from each other in a comfortable silence and only the sound of the clinking chopsticks against the bowls and the occasional crackle of the fire was heard.
Sun Yunso quietly watched his master as they ate. Su Qing took another bite. Then another. A subtle smile was forming at the corner of his lips. He remembered how, years ago, Sun Yunso's cooking had been a complete disaster. Burnt rice, oversalted soup and undercooked vegetables.
Su Qing had managed to go through every meal without saying a word of complaint. As Su Qing watched the boy cook, he was amazed at how much his skills had improved. It was incredible to see how far Sun Yunso had come, and it filled Su Qing's heart with a feeling of pride and warmth, reminding him of just how much the young boy had grown and developed over time.
Sun Yunso blinked.
"M-Master..."
Su Qing looked up.
"...Is that a smile?"
The question took him by surprise and, in a split second, he looked away.
“I'm completely clueless, what are you even referring to with this smile thing?"
Sun Yunso raised an eyebrow.
"I just saw one."
"You didn't."
"I did."
"You imagined it."
"Master."
Su Qing cleared his throat, and in a totally serious tone, he spoke.
"And besides...What even is a smile?"
Sun Yunso burst into laughter. He laughed so hard he nearly dropped his chopsticks. Su Qing frowned, pretending to be annoyed.
"You find your master amusing?"
“N-No..." Sun Yunso said as he struggled to hold back another laugh. "I've just... never heard anyone deny smiling before.
"Hmph."
Su Qing crossed his arms, turning his head to the side but a small smile managed to sneak onto his face. The next day was a clear blue day. Sun Yunso completed all the chores at once. His training, as well as the works of his house.
Even the fields had already been ploughed and he was just standing in the middle of the courtyard, with both of his arms crossed on his chest.
He didn't have - absolutely nothing to do. He sighed out.
"I didn't know that such a feeling existed. So boring."
He looked at the field, completed. Looking at the house, already cleaned, checking the buckets to his surprise they were all full.
"If I continue like this I am going to die by being bored."
Sun Yunso shrugged his shoulders, then he wandered around the property at random, in hopes to see something that would capture his attention. His boredom grew with each step taken. That was until he saw a work room, it would have not mattered if there hadn't been loud noise from it. He stopped walking and went towards it, just to have a closer look.
Drawn by curiosity, Sun Yunso quietly made his way to the old forge, the rhythmic sound growing louder with each step taken. He slowly and quietly made his way to the door and looked in. The furnace burned with a brilliant orange glow, filling the room with warmth as the sparks danced through the air. Standing before the anvil was a lone figure, completely immersed in his work.
The hammer rose and fell.
As the glowing steel yielded to each deliberate blow, Yunso's eyes locked onto the man's back, and suddenly, he knew who he was.
"...Master?"
His eyes widened in surprise, it was Su Qing. Sun Yunso had always thought of his master as really good with a sword. But a swordsmith - that was something he had never expected. Question after question flooded his mind.
'Since when could the Master forge swords? Has he always known how to? Why has it never told me?'
Sun Yunso had a million questions, but he just wasn't able to ask them. So he stood there and watched, as his mind ran wild with thoughts. As Su Qing worked, every swing of the hammer was smooth and every movement seemed to flow effortlessly. It was as if he wasn't forcing the steel into shape, but rather guiding it with a gentle touch.
Sun Yunso found himself becoming completely captured by the scene, his eyes fixed on the way Su Qing's hands moved with precision and control. Without realizing it, he slowly raised one of his own hands, mimicking the movement of the hammer as if drawn into the rhythm of Su Qing's work.
The sound of the hammer ringing out against the steel was almost hypnotic, and Sun Yunso felt himself becoming more and more captivated by the unfolding scene, his fascination growing with each passing moment. Su Qing stopped what he was doing and put the hammer away, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He then reached for a cup of water to take a drink, and as he did, his gaze wandered over to the entrance of the workshop.
A shadow stretched across the floor, he couldn't see the person's face, but the tiny frame was a dead giveaway - he knew exactly who he was looking at and without turning around he spoke.
"Do you need something, Yunso?"
Sun Yunso jolted.
"...!"
'Master knew I was here?'
He finally decided to stop hiding and wandered into the workshop, looking a bit awkward and trying to smile.
"N-Nothing much...I just wanted to watch you work."
Su Qing glanced at him briefly and then a faint smile crossed his face.
"Is that so?"
He gestured towards the empty space beside him.
"Then come."
Sun Yunso's eyes widened in surprise and he quickly got up to sit next to his master. The warm air from the furnace enveloped him, a sharp contrast to the cool atmosphere outside. Su Qing reached for a pair of long tongs, his hands grasping them with a firm grip. He then picked up the glowing blade, fresh out of the forge, its steel burning with a bright orange hue. For a moment he just held it there, the warmth emanating from it seeming to dance in the air.
He gently took Yunso's hand.
"Master?"
"Hold this."
Sun Yunso gently wrapped his hands around the tongs, and Su Qing placed a hand over his, helping to support the weight so it wouldn't be too much for him to handle.
"Steady."
Together...Master and disciple slowly lowered the glowing blade into the cooling trough, with steam erupting into the air. The sound echoed throughout the workshop as white mist rose around them and Sun Yunso's eyes sparkled.
"Amazing."
Su Qing looked at the wonder on the boy's face and couldn't help but smile.
"Do you want me to teach you?"
Sun Yunso's head shot up. And without any hesitation he nodded in agreement enthusiastically.
"Very well. From today onward you will learn that a sword is forged long before it is ever drawn."
As time went by, Sun Yunso slowly but surely progressed with his work in metal, thanks to Su Qing's calm and patient teaching. He was improving with his hammer swings becoming more steady and strong and the boy who used to stumble around with tongs had become a skilled young sword maker. His days would start with sword practice in the morning, and he would then work in the fields and around the house in the afternoon. Every evening the clang of metal filled the workshop, a familiar rhythm that marked his progress.
Those simple days quietly slipped by. Without either of them knowing it, the bond between master and disciple had changed. It no longer felt like a relationship based solely on teaching. It felt like a father raising his son.
They knew, without needing to say anything, the warmth of their everyday life spoke of enough.
For a time peace was all that they knew. Until the day everything changed. The warmth of the forge, the laughter at the dinner table and the quiet life they had built together, it all disappeared into a single night. There were two figures who descended upon the small home. None of them spoke their names or showed their faces.
The peaceful home had become ruined.
"Master!"
Sun Yunso's desperate voice echoed the turmoil.
He tried to run and reach Su Qing. But a searing pain exploded across his face.
"AAAGH!"
A blade carved across his eyes. Warm blood poured down his cheeks and darkness swallowed his vision. He stumbled to the ground, clutching his face as tears and blood mixed.
"Master! Master!!"
His hands searched frantically through the dirt. He couldn't see or fight. There was nothing he could have done. Sun Yunso's breathing had stopped. Heavy footsteps neared.
A cold feminine voice broke the silence.
"Su Qing, the Phantom Blade, has been put to death."
Another female voice answered.
"Good, let's leave and the bounty should be ours. I'm already excited for it.”
As they walked away, the sound of their footsteps slowly faded away, one by another and only silence remained and the cries of a twelve-year-old boy who had just lost the only family he had ever known.