Page 61 of Immortal

Zhangwei picked up my sword and handed it back to me. “You can wield a weapon well enough, but you’re still treating it as a tool. When you hold your blade, it should be a part of you, each movement connected to your body. Don’t doubt yourself. If you believe you’ll lose, your arm will falter. Don’t depend on luck, a fickle ally. All you can trust is your hand, your strength of mind, your own resolve.”

I nodded, trying to remember all he’d said.

“Most of a fight is in here.” He tapped his head, then his heart. “Be ready for the unexpected. You imagined that I would evade; you didn’t think I would counterattack without a weapon. Yet in a real battle, a moment’s carelessness can be fatal, and second chances are rare. A strong opponent is never a predictable one.”

He moved behind me again and caught my wrist. His fingers closed around mine, guiding it to swing the sword in a series of strikes—his other hand splayed against my ribs, moving my body to the pace of his footwork. His rhythm became mine, both of us locked in synchrony like a dance, but far more intimate.

Zhangwei seemed aggravatingly unaffected, even as this strained my concentration to the brink. My body was afire, his touch searing through my clothes, my heart racing. If he’d released me, I might have fallen. If an enemy affected me so, I would be dead.

Again and again I repeated each move, mimicking his stances—swinging the sword until my arms were throbbing, every bit of me aching.

Finally, Zhangwei nodded in approval. “Are you ready for the next lesson?”

I was not, unused to such exertion. “You’ve ordered me around a lot but have yet to show me what you can do.” I spoke this as a challenge, while seeking an opportunity to rest. Part of me also hoped he wouldn’t be that good. Reputations were hard to live up to, particularly the God of War’s.

He lifted his sword over his head, the blade aligned with his other arm, held straight. The pose was graceful like a dancer’s, if not for the deadly calm in his gaze. His eyes narrowed as he spun, his sword sweeping through the air, darting as quickly as a fish in water. Sunlight glinted over his blade as he sprang up, diving with his arm outstretched—almost seeming to fly as he drove his blade into an old archery board. The thick wood cracked, then splintered apart loudly. It was fortunate we were shielded, else my guards would have rushed over at once.

He continued, his sword spinning and weaving like a living creature, his breathing calm like this was no exertion. “When you attack, focus your strength, keep your weapon aimed at your enemy—but always out of their range,” he said. “Move with purpose, deal each blow with an aim. It’s a delicate balance to always know exactly what you’re doing, yet to never lose awareness of your enemy.”

I was hanging on his every word, unable to take my eyes from him, attuned to the sound of his blade slicing the air, the forceful grace of his every move. Something shifted in my chest like a piece dislodged, then forgotten abruptly, as he swung his sword back again, the flat of the blade now aligned to his face. His body dipped without warning, the weapon falling seamlessly into rhythm as he plunged through the air, the length of the sword across from him like part of his arm.

“A sword isn’t just for attacking but is also vital as a shield,” he told me. “To defend yourself, wield your weapon with intent to deflect each blow, and guard yourself at every moment. Your body must flow like water, no matter what lies beneath the current. Master this skill, and not even the rain can touch you.”

As he lowered his sword, turning to me, only then did I realize I had been holding my breath. I buried my admiration, feigning indifference. “A fine display. However, the wooden board was hardly an inspiring opponent, just as much as a ‘tree’ would be.”

His eyebrows lowered ominously. “Set your challenge.”

I strode to the riverbank and gathered a handful of gleaming stones, each roughly the size of my thumbnail. “Are you ready?”

As he nodded, I drew my arm back and smiled. “You spoke of rain . . . then let it hail.”

I threw the stones at him, all at once. As they flew toward him, he didn’t flinch. I found myself bracing, not wanting him to be struck—almost as much as I wanted him to be humbled. Zhangwei’s sword spun so quickly, it was a blur as it struck the stones down with dazzling speed. They fell to the ground, each marked with the force of his blade, some cleaved apart, until the earth beneath him shimmered darkly.

It was over in barely the amount of time it took to draw a breath. Such speed, such precision, to not miss a single one—even among the gods, there could be no one his equal.

Slowly, I brought my hands together and clapped. He’d earned this respect, the sheer mastery of his swordplay shining through, unmarred by threat or danger.

He strode toward me, his eyes bright. “I like the way you’re looking at me.”

I shook myself from the stupor, folding my arms across my chest. “You were showing off.”

“You are hard to impress.” He grinned, not denying it. “Now, show me what you’ve learned.”

“I could never do what you did.” After his demonstration, it felt impossible. And I was already tired, aching all over, my spirits low.

“Try what you can; not everything at once. Break a problem into smaller pieces and it won’t intimidate you anymore.”

“How can I do this—whether here, or in a real fight?” I looked down at my sword, hating this doubt. “I’m not a warrior like you, staring danger in the face. I just want to run from it.”

“Yet you don’t,” Zhangwei said gravely. “You asked me to train you. You chose to defy tradition, challenging our queen for a better future for your people. You are stronger than you think.” He lifted a hand to my face, and this time I didn’t draw away.

“Heroes are not born but made through their choices. One could be given the greatest gifts in the world and choose to do nothing with them. Or someone with nothing could forge their way to the pinnacle of power. Whether mortal or immortal, our destiny is in our hands.”

His words struck a chord inside me. “I don’t believe in destiny—that it’s been set or determined from our birth. I don’t believe it is written in the stars.”

His gaze was that of an endless night. “Then write your own.”

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