Xuelei, Tears of Blood

Chapter 29 - A Second Chance

Silence.

The man waited until the birds and other small animals came back and continued their daily routines, scavenging in the ruins for worms, bugs and other edibles. Only when the animals came backed and acted naturally was the coast clear of intruders.

A hidden stone door slid open soundlessly revealing a dark passage. The rugged terrain hid it well. The man emerged into the waning light from the side of the mountain. Usually, he would take a moment to feel pulsing energies of nature around him and breathe in the cool fresh air, but not today.

Today was different.

He wanted to check the damage the intruders had caused. He hated it when people came onto his property. It had been several hours since he heard the commotion above ground, the foreign vibrations disturbing his attuned senses. Such a high level of awareness came only from skill and training of the highest martial art forms.

He ignored the bodies as he checked the place.

Damage to the property was minimal. What else could you do to broken buildings? No theft or vandalism. The intruders did not leave anything behind ... except their dead. He sighed. How rude. The least they could do was clean up after themselves.

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the bodies. He walked around, careful not to touch the dead, mercenaries by the looks of it. He will have to bury them before they stank up the place. Fourteen bodies, no, thirteen. This young one was still alive. He was not one of them, his dress or *cough* undress was different.

The man went nearer for a better view. The boy was pinned face down by a saber that was rammed through his back. His ashen face was partially covered by his long black hair, eyes closed. He was barely breathing. One hand had curved to his back, trying to dislodge the weapon but the man guessed that the boy had been too weak to do so in that awkward position.

Blood soaked the ground. The boy was unconscious from blood loss. The only reason he was still alive was that the weapon had missed his heart. He would die eventually, slowly bleeding to death. A slow painful death indeed. It was just a matter of time.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. The man shook his head, such sloppy work.

He shrugged, it was none of his business. He was not going to get involved by finishing the job nor was he cruel enough to bury him alive. Let the boy die naturally, then he would bury them all together. No point in doing the same job twice.

He wished these people would take their fights elsewhere and not foul up his home like this.

He was about to walk away when something caught his eye. There was a familiar scar on the boy's exposed arm. He could barely make it out through the boy's ripped clothing. The man bent down to get a closer look. Lifting a flap of blood stained cloth revealed the simple pattern on the boy's pale skin.

The man's eyes widened. "No! It can't be!"

The boy had been branded, the hot irons leaving a permanent mark when his burnt flesh and skin had healed.

Etched into the boy's shoulder was a twisted circle within a double ringed circle. It was the same mark the man bore on his own body.

"My son."

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Zhen Shuren had been a proud man. He had every right to be. He had been a renowned swordsman, the best of the best. His fame had spread throughout the land in his quest to fight injustice, a desire that had burned in him when a large group of bandits had killed his loved ones and destroyed his village. He had hunted down every last one of them and killed them off one by one.

After the first few fell, the other members grew nervous. They tried to corner him numerous times but he easily avoided all their traps. He had help, the common people were all on his side. They too wanted to see this menace wiped out.

Zhen Shuren was in no hurry. He had plenty of time, now that he had no family or home to return to. He picked them off one at a time. They could not rest, afraid for their lives. They then tried to hide but he stalked them to the most remote villages and the highest mountain peaks. His personal retribution of the fearsome gang which had been terrorising the countryside for years freed the people.

After he had completed his revenge, the swordsman had chosen a peaceful mountainside to build his home and had married his love, the beautiful gentle Xiuying. She had given him a healthy son. All he wanted was to live in peace with his new family. He had taken on disciples, teaching martial arts, in hopes of spreading discipline of mind and body, basic defence and general knowledge. His gentle wife taught reading and writing to those who wanted to learn.

Tall, handsome and charismatic, people flocked to Shuren's mountain sanctuary. Soon, even his large mansion and sprawling grounds was not enough. He had to choose and select only those who were serious in learning.

He had everything, a beautiful wife, a healthy son, a wonderful home and the respect of his peers and public. Everyone admired him, everyone envied him. Life was good until tragedy struck three years later. A betrayal that had taken everything he had cherished from him once again.

Zhen Shuren had let the world think him dead, although no one had ever found his body. They said that he had turned into a vengeful ghost, slaying anyone who dared entered the ruins of his home. He was dead, dead inside. There was nothing else to live for except vengeance.

It was his youth all over again, he was disillusioned, bitter and angry. He had hidden in his secret chambers, healing and practicing his arts, planning and plotting a million ways to kill the culprit.

Finding the name of the culprit was simple. Finding her was not. He had searched everywhere for Shao Ling. He couldn't believe his best friend and companion had drugged him, killed his wife and taken his son. What her motives were he had no clue. He only knew that she had betrayed him.

She had disappeared along with his son. He had not known if the boy had lived or died. Now the boy was in front of him, grown-up and lying in a pool of blood. Shuren was damned if he was going to let the boy die. The fickle Gods had given him a second chance, he was not going to waste it.

Shuren pulled the saber from Xuelei in one swift motion. The boy jerked and gave a low moan but did not open his eyes. Fresh blood spurted from the open wound. The man tore what was left of Xuelei's clothes to staunch the blood. Then he heaved the boy up and carried him bodily back into his hidden chambers.