The Wandering God

28 Fight the Wind and Eat Vinegar 1/2

爭風吃醋
Zhēng fēng chī cù
Fight the wind and eat vinegar.
Contend for the affections of a man or woman.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Among mu'ren there is one absolute: strength is admired above all else.

There were those who argued against this. Some said that wisdom, or age, should decide who led, who was esteemed and respected in our world.

I had found that the mu'ren who held to this tenet were usually smaller and weaker than me.

When I had first been made human, I had despaired at the weakness of my frail human body. I had wondered how I would survive, when most humans around me were larger and stronger, men and women both.

Soon though, I had realized that thanks to the advantage a weapon provided, size and strength did not matter as much with humans as it did with mu'ren. A small man with a sharp sword could slit your neck just as well as a large one.

In the end what did matter was speed, and agility, and the skills to use such weapons.

Most mu'ren outside the Inner Empire disdained from using human weapons. Conflict was settled in mu'ren form. Weapons were toys used by humans.

But I had never thought like most mu'ren.

And so even before I had been trapped in human form, I had trained in human arms. I had trained in the sword, and the spear. The ax, both the large battle ax, and the smaller throwing variety. Daggers, knives. Projectiles in particular were of great advantage. With a bow and arrow, it did not matter who your opponent was. The only thing that mattered was your own accuracy.

I became skilled in just about every weapon, until in both my forms, human and dalong, I was a master of violence.

After being forced into human form, I had trained more, with renewed fervour. I had found in my new form I prefered pole weapons, because of the elongated reach they gave you. Also, if you manipulated the weight and speed of the weapons just right, you could make up for strength you lacked using the weapon's own momentum.

Never having a formal instructor or master, I had learned where I could. As I watched Sanli and Zhangyu duel, I recognized the Copper Prince's fighting style, from a brief period where I had disguised myself as a boy and served in the Black Lord's army. The men of the north were famous for their skill with spears, and I had learned by watching the soldiers drill and train.

It had been many years now, but still I remembered the movements well.

As I watched the rather one-sided fight between the two princes, I realized it was not so much that Sanli lacked skill. On the contrary, the Third Prince was very talented. While his footwork was rather sloppy, his movements were trained and controlled, and more than adequate to defend. Unfortunately, his attempts to launch his own attacks were feeble, and easily repulsed.

He lacks the will to hurt, I realized.

Zhangyu on the contrary, lacked no will to hurt. And while Sanli was skilled, Zhangyu was gifted, to the point where I found it hard to believe he was human, and had had only had a limited number of years to learn

He must practice relentlessly, I thought. As the Second Prince leaned back to launch a low swing at Sanli, his shirt rode up and I caught sight of a row of tightly knit muscles across his abdomen. I smirked. And it shows.

As I watched the fight, I could not help getting more and more excited. A warmth stirred in me, and a desire to do something foolish. To challenge the second prince.