Volume One: The Wild Boy Chapter Seventy-Five: Arrogance in the Ranks

Lin Changtian’s expression was indifferent, as if untouched by the smoke and fire of the mortal world, merely watching the commotion below the hall in silence.

The tent was crowded today; besides the generals of Mount Si, representatives from the ranks of the soldiers were present—all men of courage and valor.

Kui Sheng called them warrior-braves; privately, Lin Changtian referred to them as soldier-thugs.

...

“I heard that Ma Hui originally bore the surname Cao, only changing it to evade his enemies. I thought it was a rumor, but seeing him today…”
“Hmm? Don’t leave your words half-finished! What cryptic nonsense are you muttering about?”
Qi Yong suddenly leapt up, eyes wide at Lü Liang, who was deliberately withholding the rest of the tale.
“Look at you, so uncultured you can’t even get the point. Tell me, do you know who in antiquity was famous for coveting other men’s wives?”
“Ah, if you’re talking about that, I understand now. So Ma Hui is no different from that infamous traitor Cao, is he? But listen, you always leave your sentences hanging—what, was your ancestor a eunuch?”
“Eunuch?” Lü Liang scratched his head, puzzled. “I don’t quite get how a cultured word like that could leave your mouth, but what does this have to do with eunuchs?”
Qi Yong tilted his head, nostrils flared in mock arrogance. “Don’t you understand the logic of having nothing below? And you dare mock my lack of learning? Who knows how you passed Si Mountain’s literacy campaign!”
“Qi the Second, you stuff padding in your flat chest—what are you pretending for? It’s just that my grandfather once warned my father, and my father told me, that our family carries a hereditary curse of infertility. So who knows what our ancestor was really like.”
Qi Yong looked at him strangely, pursed his lips, and, seeing that Lü Liang was no longer a young man, swallowed the words that had nearly escaped him.

The tent remained noisy.

Qiu An twisted the corner of his garment, comforting himself inwardly: Don’t get angry, don’t get angry. Why take offense with a bunch of roughnecks? Rumors end with the wise. The master of Si Mountain seems steady enough…
Thinking so, he lifted his crestfallen head, wiped away the tears of grievance from his face, and with a trace of hope, cast his gaze toward Lin Changtian.

“Silence!”
The “steady” master of Si Mountain accepted this hope, raising his hand to quiet the clamor among his generals. Lin Changtian slowly descended from the dais, removed his fur cloak and draped it over Qiu An’s shoulders, sighed, and, gripping him by the shoulder, spoke with sincere pity: “It’s hard to bear, isn’t it? This is the way of the world. You’re not even at the crossroads, yet whether you cross the bridge is not for you to decide.”
Qiu An nodded, tears brimming in his eyes. He felt he had not misjudged this man.

Lin Changtian sighed again, his tone more solemn: “Birth is beyond our control, death too, but what happens between birth and death—that is for us to decide. You don’t look much younger than me, so allow me, for once, to play the role of elder: Little brother, just because Ma Hui is your blood father, you mustn’t climb the mountain and acknowledge a bandit as your sire!”

Qiu An: ???

...

“Commander, to tell you the truth, if I say now that I have no such entanglement with Ma Hui, would any of your generals believe me?” Qiu An spoke dispiritedly, regretting that he hadn’t simply died on the battlefield to spare himself this humiliation.

Lin Changtian’s eyes sparkled mischievously at some amusing thought.
“May I ask, Commander, what family drama are you plotting now? A man may be killed once, but not shamed thrice. Please, don’t go finding me another father.”

“But, young Qiu An, if you don’t reveal something more sensational to drown out the rumors, under the weight of so many tongues, they will become truth.” Lin Changtian shook his head, his smile fading. He traced a circle toward the heartlands, speaking calmly: “This logic holds in the central plains and the northern wilds alike.”

Qiu An gazed at Lin Changtian, lost in thought, then shook his head with a bitter smile, as if resigned to fate. “Let your men say what they will, then. The truth is nothing but a tired old story—a fierce bandit owing a favor to a great family that he could never repay. Don’t bother asking for details; I was merely a bit part in it all.”

Qiu An’s breezy manner actually stilled the tongues of Si Mountain’s men. After all, who cares to toy with a puppet that won’t respond? It’s not as if he’s inflatable…

Lin Changtian stroked his chin in silent contemplation for a long while. Liu Qingshan approached, leaning on his cane as he studied Qiu An, then, stroking his beard, mused, “Since you come from a noble house, your lineage must be ancient. Among the old surnames of the northern wilds are Ji and Jiang, and going further back, to the age of the Most High, it’s said that Lady Hua Xu conceived all things, and later gave birth to the Three Sovereigns, with Fuxi bringing clarity to the world. Tell me, the Qiu clan, a lesser family, descends from which branch?”

Qiu An was taken aback, astonished: “I never thought I’d encounter someone so learned here in little Si Mountain. To be honest, our line comes from the Ji family, and traces its tradition to one of the seven great houses of the north: Ma, Zhou, Lin, Cheng, Zhao, Li, and Qiu, specifically the Zhou branch. Properly speaking, we share a common ancestor with the Qiu family. After the chaos in the north and the coming of the ‘Age of Awakening’, our family, by luck, was counted among the gentry.”

Qiu An answered honestly; after all, one who could speak of such ancient lineages in the north was a rare sage. He had only ever heard his clan elder mention it in passing as a child.

“Judging by your speech, elder, you are no mere bandit. Might I trouble you to say more?” Qiu An bowed respectfully, utterly devoid of impatience.

Liu Qingshan laughed, a hint of evident gratification in his cloudy eyes. He tossed aside his cane and straightened his back, like a great mountain restored to majesty after long disuse.
“I am a villain of the Sin Clan, not of the Ji or Jiang lines, much less a petty descendant of the seven great houses. Fuxi is my father, Nuwa my mother; even Lady Hua Xu herself could claim kinship!”

To indulge the evils of heaven and earth—that was once the Sin Clan.

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The whispers in the tent dwindled; those bewildered remained so, those lost stayed lost. Clarity, it seemed, belonged to yesterday.

“Their cryptic chatter is their own family business—what’s it to you? All of you, staring as if your eyes could pop!” Lin Changtian suddenly interjected, his rebuke shattering the frozen air.

This newly risen commander of Si Mountain, the young master of the southern wilds, sat upright in the hall, his eyes gleaming with something strange.
“Qiu An, let me ask you: how many of the seven great houses yet remain?”

“Only the Cheng and Lin lines are left. The most famous of the Cheng family is Cheng Yu in the east, while the Lin family’s is Lin Yuan in the west. Some say that Ma Hui the bandit chief comes from the Ma family, one of the original seven, but as their main line was destroyed, the survivors are all distant kin. According to custom, they must form a new house and may not claim the old name.”

“What catastrophe could have wiped out a noble line, leaving no direct heirs?”

“It’s tied to the fall of the northern frontier…” Qiu An bowed deeply to Liu Qingshan and left his words unfinished.

But that was clear enough; what lay unsaid was the connection to the massacre of the Sin Clan.

Though the past was exposed, Liu Qingshan took no offense, accepting Qiu An’s bow with composure, unbowed in spirit.

“You keep too much from your generals. You and Yu Baili think me weak and tell me too little,” Lin Changtian said with a hint of melancholy. He turned, catching the ceaseless murmurs of the Si Mountain warriors and let out a cold laugh, though he swallowed the harsher words that rose to his lips.

Most of these braves came from under Kui Sheng’s command.

Lin Changtian tightened his cuffs and straightened his attire as if preparing for an audience.

If not for borrowed prestige, how could he win the hearts of the fierce men beneath the Si Mountain generals?

Suppressing Zhang Yi’s rebellion, you all boast of valor, but in your hearts, do you not claim all the credit for yourselves?

Breaking down prejudice, assimilating new bandits—your hands do the work, but your hearts still crown yourselves as kings.

Even now, with the Weinan Pass secured, you still think all glory is your own, as if any new set of leaders could achieve legendary feats.

The commander has never been foolish, the chief generals dare not claim merit, yet you braves are all proud indeed.

But why, then, do such proud men tremble at the mere mention of Ma Hui’s name?

Are you, after all, no more than frogs at the bottom of a well?

He could not be cheerful; his usual detachment could not suppress his growing ire.

“Elder Liu, you might as well tell it plainly today, so that when the time comes to avenge the Sin Clan, we’ll know what manner of enemy we face.”

Liu Qingshan furrowed his brow, uncertain why Lin Changtian spoke so. “They are not ordinary men—you know this. Better not to risk everyone’s lives.”

The braves breathed easier and returned to their complaints.

Qi Yong narrowed his eyes, whispering in Lü Liang’s ear, “Old Lü, isn’t it awfully noisy today? Who are all these unfamiliar faces?”
“Hush! Do you think they’re from our ranks? All these men are Kui Sheng’s—greatest heroes of the Weinan Pass battle. Right now, the mountain’s winds all…”
“General Lü Liang, why don’t you say it? How are the winds on the mountain now?”
Caught by Lin Changtian’s gaze, Lü Liang, biting the bullet, decided to speak plainly: “Reporting to Commander Lin, lately the men under General Kui Sheng have grown unruly. They ignore the senior generals, treat their comrades as nothing, and there’s been no small amount of conflict because of it!”

“And what of respect for their commander?”

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“Uh…” Lü Liang was silenced, unable to answer.

Lin Changtian stood, his bearing arrogant, gaze fierce and cold.

“I’ll answer for you. Even Kui Sheng, your commander, does not dare claim credit before his comrades. But I must ask you, heroes—why do you cower at Ma Hui’s name?”

The braves stiffened, bristling with indignation.

“Commander Lin, that’s unfair. We only think of Si Mountain—how could we fear Ma Hui?”

“If that’s so, then let us march north at once. Let you all break Ma Hui and win immortal glory for Si Mountain—how about it?”

A particularly obstinate brave jumped up, fists clasped: “If you don’t like us, kill us! But don’t send the brothers on a suicide mission. Commander, if I may speak, is there any other force on this mountain that could compare with us?”

“Li Luer, are you looking for death? When did it become your place to speak? Get out and receive your punishment!” Kui Sheng bellowed, then quickly turned to Lin Changtian: “Brother Lin, don’t take it to heart, the troops…”

Lin Changtian waved him off. Kui Sheng sensed trouble but before he could continue, the commander of Si Mountain drew his blade and all fell silent.

“If you’re dissatisfied, then in a few days let’s have your unit compete with another—no generals to command, just the men. Winner takes pride, how about it?”

Li Luer sneered: “As you command, Commander Lin! Just make sure the other side can actually fight—don’t let them spoil your fun.”

“Good. Dismissed for today. I am weary.”

Kui Sheng pursed his lips but said nothing. Growing up together, he knew Lin Changtian’s temper well.

Like the deep ocean, calm and unruffled, but tolerating not a single grain of sand.

...

The tent was much quieter now. Lin Changtian slumped in the commander’s seat, looking utterly dejected.

Liu Qingshan stroked his beard and smiled, “You did well today.”

“So you noticed? Then I owe you an apology.” Lin Changtian didn’t rise, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“You’ve only sat in that seat a few months and already learned to use others’ hands to kill—though today it was mine. The enemies ahead will only grow fiercer, so having a scheming mind is no fault. Just don’t let that seat bind you.” Liu Qingshan shook his head, picking up his cane and shuffling away.

Lin Changtian smiled bitterly. No one knew his own nature better than himself.

He had always been like a small boat on a vast, stormy sea—tossed about, but unbound.

Ties of any sort were too distant, too heavy to bear.