A young boy stood in the middle of a courtyard, holding a wooden sword in his hand. He swung it vigorously.
Suddenly, the sword fell from his hand to the ground.
"Ah, my hand!"
The boy looked at his hand. There were signs of bruises and bumps on his arm.
But he picked up the wooden sword and began waving it again. Sweat dripped heavily from his forehead.
About an hour later, the boy returned to his room. He was sitting on his bed.
Beside him, a delicate, older girl held his hand and bandaged it. "You've trained too much, Su Ming."
The boy smiled at the girl's words. "I haven't overdone anything, sister. I'm still weak and have a long way to go."
'That's right, a long way until my father acknowledges me.'
The girl sighed and gently pinched Su Ming's little cheek. "You're working hard, but you should be careful . Don't overdo it with your training , ok?"
"Ah, sister, stop pinching my cheek. I'm not a a child" The girl smiled tenderly, "You will always be my little brother in my eyes."
Su Ming held the disc and smiled, "Yes, but I will stronger"
The girl stood up from the bed and walked outside. "Many people want power, and someday you'll achieve it, but what I want the most is for you to take care of yourself more."
Su Ming stood up and walked behind his sister. "I will take care of myself. Don't worry about me, sister."
Su Ming left the gate of the house and left, carrying only his wooden sword. He left his family's territory and walked toward a small mountain.
At the top of the mountain, there was a single tree firmly planted in its place.
Nine-year-old Su Ming sat beneath the tree and contemplated the sun in front of him.
The words gushed out, "Beautiful, how I envy you, tree. You can stay here and watch the sunrise and sunset forever." He then turned and patted the tree. "But isn't it painful to be alone here? Isn't it lonely to be alone?"
At that moment, Su Ming realized something. The peak. It was lonely, being alone, simply put, he felt as if it wasn't meant for him.
Even if he stood on top, he would be alone, because it only held one person. He stood up calmly and began waving his wooden sword.
This sword was the first and last gift his father had given him. His father hadn't stayed at home long, and that had increased after his mother's death, but he had never felt her absence. His sister cared deeply for him.
But because his father hadn't been home for long because of work, Su Ming wanted to become strong so he could carry the burden off his father's shoulders.
He had waved his sword every day since he started learning martial arts.
Even when his hands swelled and began to ache, he continued waving until blood came out.
Even when it rained and the ground was muddy and slushy, the dirt and filth didn't bother him; he was happy with it.
Even when it snowed and it was difficult to move in the ice, he would wave it to warm himself.
When it was hot in the summer, even if he was exhausted from extreme thirst, he would drink water and continue waving it
But he felt that all of this has no meaning, because throughout these years, whatever his father saw him, he did not praise him, but he gave him a passing look, but that did not frustrate him, he only felt that the effort he was doing was not enough
And what if he does not have a sacred body? And what if he does not have a great talent? He just felt that his hard work would come
Therefore, he set a goal in front of his eyes, the city's competition for youths
As long as he was able to achieve the first place, his father will not be able to ignore him for sure
Or that what he thought
After spending time on the top
Soo Ming sat in front of him, the food was placed, while his sister sat in front of him and their father sat between her
Suo Ming did not initiate any conversation with his father, but rather he ate quietly
Suddenly, Suo Ming's father spoke, "After food, I will teach you our family style in the sword."
Upon hearing these words, Suo Ming immediately showed his joy, "I look forward to that, my father."
Soo Ming felt for a moment that he will finally have the opportunity to spend time with his father
After food, the two stood in the courtyard, where Suo Ming's father grabbed a real sword and started to show the skill of his sword
His steps were graceful, his sword was gently swaying with air, and every blow was accurate
After completing the skill show, Lest Ming pointed out, "This is the art of pure plum sword, so let me have what you have."
Su Ming gripped his wooden sword and began to wave it around, mimicking the movements of his father, but it was not at the same level.
When Su Ming finished showcasing his moves, his father stood quietly, sighed, and began to walk away. "As I expected, you're not ready yet."
Those words fell heavily on his shoulders. His father had never had high hopes for him from the beginning, yet he clenched his fists. "Not yet; I will make him proud. I have to win the tournament no matter the cost."
Su Ming left home once more and returned to the mountain, standing beneath the tree. "I won't let things like this distract me. As long as I put in the effort, I will surpass any talent."
Immediately, Su Ming executed the movements again and again without stopping, having nothing but his sword during those days.
Time flowed smoothly as he trained, and when he returned home after weeks of honing his skills, he showed his father how much he had practiced. But the response was shocking; it was no different from the previous time.
Su Ming walked away from the place in disappointment, but he did not let that affect him; he returned to training once more.
On the day of the competition, Su Ming stepped onto the arena to face his opponent.
After fighting many rivals in the previous rounds, he had finally reached the finals
Su Ming stood on the ring and looked at the audience.
All these years, he had heard many people envying his talent.
They always say, "As expected of a general's son."
He fought many kids from his town, but he won every time, they all attributed it to him being the son of a general, and that he had to live up to the expectations placed on him, all because he was the son of the general.
They all looked at him as if he didn't put in any effort, and all he relied on were the resources his family provided.
Throughout his short ten-year life, he had only heard the word "general's son" and not his name.
He was not seen as a person, but as a carbon copy of his father, and he had to live up to those expectations.
Su Ming carried those expectations in his heart and believed, believed that one day he would become like his father and lighten his load.
But he did not know that the burden he wanted to lighten was not as much as the expectations he wanted to reach
They were like a chain binding him, causing a huge burden on him.
So he had to not fail, if he wanted to reach those expectations, that rank, that summit, he had to not fail.
The referee announced the start of the match. Su Ming rushed towards his opponent and held the sword horizontally for a direct stab, but his opponent jumped to the side and swung his sword vertically at Su Ming's head.
Su Ming leaned back, held his sword above his head, and blocked the blow.
Su Ming quickly swung his sword towards the ground as the opponent's sword slid towards the ground. Su Ming turned around and swung his sword forcefully, aiming his neck.
The opponent bent down slightly and launched a kick at Su Ming, sending him back five steps.
The opponent quickly grabbed his sword and advanced towards Su Ming.
Su Ming lost his balance and jumped to the side, avoiding his opponent.
Su Ming drew his sword as his opponent turned around and the two swords met in an instant.
Immediately, Su Ming's sword shook and he gently struck the sword, sending it flying out of his opponent's hand into the air.
Su Ming knelt on the ground and dragged his foot behind his opponent, knocking him to the ground and holding his sword towards his neck
Su Ming was panting heavily, what he used now was the Pure Plum Blossom Sword Skill that his father had taught him.
Immediately the referee announced, "The winner is Su Ming."
Su Ming stood up and declared himself victorious, a feeling of joy and delight flooding his heart with pleasure, he was about to hear it, hear his father's proud laughter.
Su Ming couldn't wait any longer and quickly ran to his family's house and hurried to his father.
"Father, Father, i done it! I won the tournament." Su Ming smiled happily, waiting for his father to shower him with praise, but it was like waiting for a dry well to generate water on its own.
His father gave him a casual look, as if he wasn't looking directly at him "So what? Something like this should be normal to you, just a petty tournament"
Su Ming felt those words as if they were filled with poison.
The disdain in his father's voice, the casual rejection of his accomplishments, all of it fell upon him at once.
He had worked for years with dedication, blood, sweat, and tears, all for what? A mere trifle to his father.
Su Ming's smile faltered, his joy evaporating like mist in the scorching sun.
He felt a heaviness in his chest, as if a lead weight was pressing down on his heart, squeezing the breath from his lungs. The burden he had been carrying had fallen upon him, and it was heavier than he had imagined
"Is that all you're capable of, son? I expected more from you." His father sneered, his eyes narrowing into slits, before he turned and left Su Ming there.
Su Ming's eyes widened in horror as he processed his father's words.
He felt like he was about to vomit, as if his insides had been ripped out. How could his father be so cold, so heartless? After all, after everything he'd done, didn't his father care at all? A single tear fell down Su Ming's cheek as he stood there, paralyzed in shock
"I've given everything for this, to become what he wants me to be. And yet, he still doesn't see me. He doesn't recognize me as anything more than a disappointing reflection of himself."
What was the point of any of it? Why did he even try? For a moment, Su Ming wondered if he should give up, if life really was as cruel and meaningless as his father had envisioned.
His father did not accept him, so how could he accept him himself? At once, he butted his forehead to the ground three times, as a sign of respect to his father for taking care of him all these years.
Then he raised his head as he bled from his forehead and left the place, he carried his belongings in a small cloth bag, and carried his wooden sword with him, and without looking back he left leaving everything, leaving his family, leaving the city, where in his heart he carried one will
What if he doesn't confess to me willingly? I will force him to confess one day, and that's a promise to myself.