The dilemma of sticking to the old ways
Deep within the folds of the vast mountains, darkness thickened like solidified ink. A chilling mountain wind howled through the jagged rocks, swirling up the stench of rotting leaves and blood, assaulting the fleeing crowd. Xiao Yuxuan, bringing up the rear, each rapid breath tore at the arrow wound beneath his ribs; each stumble on the slippery moss or sharp pebbles caused the faint warmth in his dantian to tremble violently, as if threatened by the sudden surge of sharp, surging energy and panic within him. The bronze short sword he gripped tightly had long since cooled; thick blood had congealed into dark red scabs in the grooves of the blade. The pungent smell of rust mixed with the acrid odor of burning grease stubbornly pierced his nostrils, like a silent torture.
"Guard your Qi... focus your mind on your Dantian..." Xuanweizi's hoarse whisper, with its strange rhythm, was like a thread soaked in ice water, piercing through the howling wind and the faint shouts of pursuers behind him, once again entwining Xiao Yuxuan's chaotic sea of consciousness. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to abandon the wide-open eyes and gushing blood of the bearded village chief before his death, fixing all his attention on the faint warmth three inches below his navel. He inhaled the cold air through his nose and exhaled the stale air through his mouth, as if steering a small boat that could capsize at any moment in a raging storm.
Sun Qian and Wang Ben, supporting Li Xin who had been shot in the thigh, staggered heavily. Li Xin's face was deathly pale, large beads of cold sweat mixed with mud rolling down his forehead. With each stumble, he let out a muffled groan, his teeth grinding together. Blood soaked through the simple bandage on his thigh, spreading a dark, ever-expanding wet patch on his dark brown trousers, dripping onto the cold rocks with each step, leaving intermittent dark red marks.
"Hold on, Li Xin!" Wang Ben's voice was hoarse, but filled with unwavering determination. "Get over that ridge ahead and find a sheltered spot!"
Ji Zhai followed closely behind Xuan Weizi, his indigo robes torn in several places by thorns. He frequently turned back, gazing at the direction of the firelight behind him, a light that was now obscured by mountains yet still palpable. The firelight reflected in his eyes did not bring the joy of victory, but rather a deep worry and a barely perceptible pain.
“Master Xuanwei,” Ji Zhai’s voice, panting, was exceptionally clear in the wind, “The fire… is too great. The food and fodder in the camp are essential for military supplies, but there must also be ordinary soldiers’ tents resting nearby… those trampled by the runaway horses… and the watchtowers that collapsed…” He didn’t finish his sentence, only shaking his head heavily. The Mohist’s compassionate gaze was cast into the depths of darkness, as if he could see the cries of agony in that inferno. “The Mohist’s defense strategy aims to keep enemies at bay and protect the people… This fire attack, though destroying enemy resources,… those injured are likely mostly innocent conscripted laborers, no different from those in the countryside of Longxi. This… is it not contrary to ‘non-aggression’?”
Xuanweizi's fleeting figure paused slightly in the darkness, without turning around. Only his aged, hoarse voice was carried by the wind, carrying the coldness and hardness of a mountain: "Weapons are instruments of destruction, used only by sages as a last resort. Sun Qian's plan was to cut off his claws and teeth, to hinder his pursuit, and to give us a chance to survive. In chaotic times, survival is difficult enough, let alone innocence. Mr. Ji, although the idea of 'universal love' is good, at this moment, we are all fish in a net, meat under the knife. How can we have time to care about anything else? The fire has already spread, and it will be too late to regret. It will only cause confusion."
Ji Zhai remained silent for a moment, his steps unwavering, but his voice lowered, carrying a profound sense of bewilderment: "The art of Mohism, used to defend cities and protect the peace of the people, is 'righteous.' But when used for warfare, destroying life, where is its 'righteousness'? Is this art... ultimately a shield for life, or... a blade for killing?" He looked at Xuan Weizi, "When you say 'guarding Qi is like guarding a city,' you are guarding your own lifeblood. But what is the 'city' that our Mohist school guards? If the art of city defense becomes an aid to slaughter, is there any need to defend this city?" This question, heavy as lead, crashed against the cold night wind.
Xiao Yuxuan heard the conversation clearly. Ji Zhai's confusion pierced his already chaotic mind like cold needles. He thought of the enemy soldiers climbing and howling beneath the Ice City, of the mountains of corpses piled up along the Wei River, of the faces that had perished in the fire tonight and those who had died by his sword. Xuan Weizi's words were cold and true, like a cold blade scraping through bone—to live, someone must die. But was this truly the only path? What did General Bai Yu's broken sword and that locust tree by the Wei River represent?
"Cough...cough cough..." A violent cough, which Li Xin could no longer suppress, came from ahead. His body swayed violently, almost knocking down Wang Ben, who was supporting him. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, starkly contrasting against his pale face. His breath rapidly weakened, clearly indicating that the crossbow bolt had not only injured his bones and muscles but may have also damaged his internal organs.
"No! We have to stop!" Wang Ben growled, his voice filled with anxiety. Sun Qian frowned, his sharp gaze quickly sweeping across the surroundings. This place was steep, full of jagged rocks, and the cold wind was like a knife; it was definitely not a place for healing.
Xuanweizi's gray eyes swept across Li Xin's face in the dim light. His withered fingers swiftly touched Li Xin's wrist, then withdrew after a moment. "The arrowhead is embedded in the bone, causing blood to rush upwards and internal organs to be shaken. You need to lie still and practice guided breathing exercises to remove the arrowhead and apply medicine to stop the bleeding. This place is cold and damp, making it easy for blood to stagnate and for evil spirits to invade. Staying here for too long will be dangerous."
His gaze fell upon a higher, more sheltered slope backed by a massive rock, offering a wide and unobstructed view. "Go to the sheltered side of that rock. Mr. Ji, please find some dry branches to start a fire, to keep warm and ward off wild animals. Mr. Sun, Wang Ben, prepare to pull out the arrows." His instructions were concise, precise, and left no room for argument.
The group struggled to climb the slope. The massive rock, like a silent giant, blocked the fiercest mountain winds. Ji Zhai nodded silently, his figure quickly disappearing into the bushes beside the rock face, searching for usable firewood.
Wang Ben carefully laid Li Xin flat on a relatively flat ground covered with a thick layer of withered leaves. Sun Qian quickly untied the leather pouch from his waist and poured out a few simple items: a small roll of relatively clean kudzu cloth, a bronze knife with a gleaming blade, a packet of hemostatic powder mixed with wood ash and unknown grass clippings, and a small piece of flint for starting a fire.
"Li Xin, bear with it!" Sun Qian's voice was deep and powerful, carrying the decisiveness honed on the battlefield. He knelt beside Li Xin, his bronze dagger gleaming coldly in the faint starlight.
Li Xin closed his eyes tightly, clenched his teeth, and let out a muffled groan from deep in his throat as a response.
Sun Qian's technique was extremely skillful; he swiftly used a bronze knife to cut open the blood-soaked trousers and hemp cloth surrounding Li Xin's thigh wound. The mangled wound was exposed, and a crude bronze three-edged arrowhead was deeply embedded beside the leg bone, with dark blood still slowly seeping out. Wang Ben pressed down hard on Li Xin's shoulder and his other intact leg.
Xiao Yuxuan stood to the side, watching Sun Qian's steady movements and the gruesome wound, his stomach churning. This was more direct and more...cruel than the bloodshed he himself witnessed when killing. He subconsciously touched the arrow wound under his ribs, which had not yet fully healed; it seemed to ache faintly there as well.
Sun Qian took a deep breath, his eyes sharp as a hawk's. His bronze dagger precisely probed the edge of the wound, avoiding major blood vessels and tendons, carefully removing the arrowhead lodged in the bone. The slight "crunching" sound of metal scraping against bone was particularly jarring in the silent mountain night.
"Ugh—!" Li Xin finally couldn't help but let out a shrill scream, his body arching violently upwards, only to be held down tightly by Wang Ben. Large beads of sweat rolled down his face along with his tears.
Xuanweizi silently arrived beside Li Xin's head, his withered, eagle-claw-like hands, carrying a strange warmth, gently pressing on Li Xin's Baihui acupoint and the temples on either side of his head. "Focus your mind on your dantian, draw your spirit inward, let the pain surge like a tide, I will observe its birth and death." His deep voice seemed to possess a certain magic, slowly seeping into Li Xin's collapsing consciousness, "Guide your breath, follow my guidance, descend to the Yongquan acupoint, and disperse to the earth..."
As Xuanweizi whispered and pressed his palm, Li Xin's extremely tense body miraculously relaxed a little, and his shrill howl turned into a suppressed sob squeezed out from deep in his throat. The pain on his face did not diminish, but the unfocused and desperate look in his eyes seemed to be forcibly gathered together, and he followed Xuanweizi's guidance with difficulty, trying to follow the mysterious "guidance".
Xiao Yuxuan watched this scene with bated breath. He could feel an extremely faint yet pure aura emanating from Xuanweizi, like a warm stream, slowly flowing into Li Xin's body through his palm, temporarily protecting his faltering heart and mind. Was this the application of "Qi"? Not only for self-preservation, but also for helping others?
laugh!
With a soft click, Sun Qian suddenly exerted force with his wrist, and the blood-stained bronze arrowhead was finally completely removed, with a trace of muscle still attached! Without pausing, he quickly pressed a thick layer of the prepared hemostatic powder onto the wound, and then swiftly and tightly wrapped it with a clean strip of hemp cloth.
"Alright!" Sun Qian let out a long sigh of relief, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. Wang Ben released his grip on Li Xin, his muscles relaxing as he sat wearily to the side.
Li Xin was soaked in cold sweat as if he had just been pulled out of the water. He collapsed to the ground, barely breathing, but his life had been saved for the time being.
Just then, Ji Zhai returned carrying a small bundle of relatively dry branches and pine needles that he had managed to find. He saw the bandage on Li Xin's leg, and then glanced at Xuanweizi's hand on Li Xin's head, his expression complex. He silently squatted down and, with flint and tinder, skillfully started a small campfire in a sheltered rock hollow.
Orange flames leaped up, dispelling the small patch of darkness and the heavy chill, bringing a meager warmth and illuminating the weary, disheveled, and solemn faces of the group. The dry branches crackled softly as they burned, the only sound of life in the deathly still mountain night.
Xiao Yuxuan sat down against the cold rock, neither too close nor too far from the fire. The flickering firelight cast shifting shadows on his blood- and mud-stained face. He opened his palm; the old cuts from the splintered wood on his palms hadn't healed, and tonight they were stained with the warm blood of strangers. The sticky, cold touch seemed to linger on his fingertips. He subconsciously rubbed his hands on the rough rock, but he couldn't wipe away the heaviness in his heart.
Xuanweizi slowly withdrew his hand from Li Xin's head, his gray eyes turning to the leaping campfire. The firelight danced in his deep-set eye sockets, like sparks thrown into a dark, ancient well. "Guarding Qi is easy, guarding the heart is difficult." His hoarse voice broke the silence, as if whispering to the flames, or as if awakening everyone present. "A restless mind is easily disturbed by external circumstances, startled by killing, and blinded by bloodlust. What you see and do tonight is all ashes of calamity, and also a whetstone. Will you let these ashes cloud your mind, or will you use them to temper your will and guard that little bit of 'Qi' within your heart so that it does not fall...? The road is still long."
He fell silent, sitting cross-legged with his eyes lowered, as if becoming one with the rock beneath him, his breath barely audible. That faint yet tenacious flame of life, deep within his withered body, burned stubbornly like this small campfire in the boundless darkness and cold.
Ji Zhai gazed at the firelight, then looked down the mountain towards the direction of the towering flames that were no longer visible but still seemed to linger in his mind. Deep furrows were etched between his brows. The predicament of sticking to the old ways weighed heavily on his heart like a cold shackle.
Xiao Yuxuan lowered his head, looking at a few unknown mosses struggling to sprout tender green shoots in a crevice of a rock beside the fire, despite the bitter cold. They were so small, so fragile, yet so tenacious. He slowly closed his eyes and once again focused his mind on his dantian.
Guarding one's Qi is like guarding a city.
Guarding one's heart... but how should one guard it?
The road ahead is long, with endless mountains and still only darkness. Only this small campfire and the faint warmth flowing through my body are the only real things at this moment.
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