I trained every day until my arms felt like stone.
Each swing of the sword burned through my shoulders, but my father's words kept ringing in my head. Forge your heart like metal. Harden it.
They struck me harder than the wooden blade ever could.
The pressure was the same as in my other life.
Sometimes, while the cold wind cut across the training yard, I almost forgot which life I was in.
---
[Flashback]
My mother from that first life had said the same thing—different words, same weight.
Go to university. Make something of yourself.
I could still hear her voice, soft but heavy with expectation.
I remember sitting in a cramped room, textbooks piled around me, telling myself I couldn't fail her.
Now I held a sword instead of a pen, but the feeling was identical.
Expectation. Duty. A future I couldn't escape.
---
"Hey, hey, Fan Ling's son!" a guard called during a break. "What's the matter? Is your sister pushing you again?"
I gave a short nod, my chest still rising and falling from drills.
Of course she was.
---
The memory of our last spar burned bright.
I charged again and again, swinging until my palms blistered, but Linger flowed around every strike like water around a rock.
Her violet eyes stayed calm, her blade a streak of silver.
"What is this?" she said, her voice cool. "Your stance is sloppy. Your weight is wrong. Your first slash is like a bandit's trick. And you still can't release Qi in a single strike."
One quick motion and I was on the ground.
The tip of her sword rested against my throat.
Her gaze never wavered.
"Train harder," she said. "Push your limits. That is the only way to reach the peak of martial arts."
"Okay… older sister Linger," I whispered.
The dirt tasted bitter as I swallowed my pride.
That moment felt like a furnace, burning everything weak inside me.
---
Father watched from the edge of the yard, laughter rumbling like distant thunder.
Mother covered her mouth, trying to hide her own smile as I stumbled to my feet and ran the required laps—again and again, until my legs threatened to give out.
---
But then the mood shifted.
The clang of hurried footsteps echoed across the stone path.
Two city guards appeared, their faces set in hard lines.
"Family Head," one said, voice sharp with urgency. "There is a serious problem in the city."
The air tightened.
Father's laughter died in his chest.
The training ground suddenly felt colder, as if a storm had slipped through the gates.
---
Something was coming.
I gripped my practice sword, my heart pounding—not just from the drills, but from a feeling I couldn't name.