Chapter 3 — The Bronze Medal

It was still dark when Tang Tang got up on the dot.

After a quick wash, he turned on the light, sat down at the desk, spread out a sheet of letter paper, and bent his head to write, the pen whispering across the page.

"Qianhui: How have you been lately? I miss you a lot. Everything is fine with me, so don't worry. The new semester has begun, and I'm still the assistant instructor for Teacher Cen's swordsmanship class. It's a little boring without you here. They look down on me, and I don't care for them either. Teacher Cen hasn't been in the best of health lately. He's a good man; I hope he stays healthy forever. Is Uncle Yu doing well? Give him my regards. I really want to see that Perseus Nebula Falls you told me about—I wonder just how spectacular it really is. I'm still training, and maybe I'll keep at it for a long time yet, but I don't want to give up..."

He wrote page after page of flowing words, all of it the small stuff of everyday life. Carefully he folded the paper, slipped it into an envelope, and sealed it.

Carefully he wrote the address: Perseus Constellation, White Rainbow Star, White Rainbow City, Fifteenth Avenue, White Rainbow Academy, Third Year, Class A—Shangguan Qianhui (to receive).

That done, he picked up the Skyway stamp he had prepared long ago and stuck it on the envelope.

With all of it finished, he rose again and went out into the yard.

The morning air carried a biting chill. Tang Tang stretched his limbs until the muscles all over his body gradually loosened, then set his stance and began the day's training.

What he practiced was the Basic Fist Technique.

After nearly a year of training, his Basic Fist Technique was close to perfection.

The Basic Fist Technique comprised three movements: the straight punch, the jab, and the hook. The straight punch delivered full power, heavy and fierce; the jab was light and swift, paired with footwork like a butterfly weaving through flowers; the hook fell between the two, placing greater emphasis on the angle of the strike.

What looked like simple basic movements became full of beauty in Tang Tang's hands—the beauty of concision and harmony born of a thousand refinements.

Tang Tang's expression was focused. The monotonous training brought not the slightest trace of weariness to his face.

Soon he was drenched in sweat, his clothes soaked through, beads of sweat the size of beans winding down his neck.

To look at him, a faint mist seemed to rise all around his body.

Over and over he practiced, occasionally pausing to ponder some point, but soon plunging back into the drill. Time slipped by bit by bit; the sun leaped up from below the earth, and the morning chill was quickly driven away.

Tang Tang trained in utter self-forgetfulness.

Suddenly a shrill bell rang out. Tang Tang stopped—time was up!

Wheeze, wheeze, wheeze!

Heavy panting filled the yard. Tang Tang stood with both hands braced on his knees, beads of sweat sliding to his chin and dripping to the ground. He had been so focused during practice that he had felt nothing; now that he stopped, exhaustion drowned him in an instant.

It was five minutes before Tang Tang came back to himself from that blank state. He straightened up and, on trembling legs, shuffled toward the water basin in the corner of the yard. The basin was full; reaching its edge, Tang Tang flopped in with a splash.

The morning water was piercingly cold. The instant he hit it, Tang Tang shuddered all over.

He grimaced, his expression somewhat pained; he had to let his body adjust to the cold water little by little. After about two minutes, his body had grown used to the chill, so he sat cross-legged and began to circulate his inner method.

In five years at Ande Academy, he had long since brought the Basic Inner Method to perfection. The Basic Inner Method did not concern itself with innate constitution; with persistence, one or two years was enough to master it. Tang Duo's constitution was not good—his five elements were all average—but he never slacked off, and he had mastered the Basic Inner Method long ago. He had quickly begun searching for a second-rank inner method, but Ande Academy taught only the basic one; to learn a second-rank method, one had to enter the academy proper.

But Tang Yan did not want to waste time, so he looked for a way around it. Teacher Cen, hearing of Tang Duo's situation, invited Tang Tang to serve as his assistant instructor, and paid Tang Yi a second-rank soul-general card, the Nourishing Qi Formula, as the assistant instructor's fee.

Only then did Tang Tang begin cultivating a second-rank method.

The Nourishing Qi Formula was likewise suited to martial artists of poor constitution; its sole virtue was long, sustained breath. By now Tang Duo had nearly mastered the Nourishing Qi Formula as well. Low-rank methods were all rather simple, emphasizing perseverance rather than much technique.

A warm, lingering breath spread into every corner of his body, driving out the chill and swiftly restoring his exhausted frame.

An hour later, Tang Tang opened his eyes.

He was full of vigor again, every trace of fatigue swept away. He did not get up at once, but half-lay in the basin, staring blankly at the blue sky.

I wonder what Qianhui is doing right now...

A gentle look surfaced in his eyes, but soon he came back to himself and took from his neck the bronze medal that hung there. It was tied with red cords, several of them twisted together—one braided by his mother, the rest by Qianhui. When Qianhui was in Yaochuan City, every year she would braid a new red cord for Tang Duo's medal.

The medal was about the size of a coin, slightly worn, with a somewhat irregular cross pattern on the front. Tang Tang turned it over. On the back was a winding river, and in the river countless tiny stars seemed to twinkle. Tang Duo's gaze fell on the lower part of the river, where a row of gray numbers sat, so dim that they were nearly invisible unless one looked closely.

Tang Tang had worn this medal since childhood, but it was only a few years ago that he had discovered the numbers.

And it was only after he began practicing basic martial techniques that he discovered the numbers could change.

The discovery of the medal filled Tang Tang with curiosity.

He was careless and easygoing, but not stupid, and he quickly found the pattern behind the changes. Whenever he completed a qualifying basic martial technique, the numbers would jump.

From that day on, he realized that his mother—whom he had always thought so ordinary—seemed not so ordinary after all. It struck him suddenly how little he knew of her past.

And then there was that bastard who had abandoned his wife and child...

Tang Tang's heart brimmed with a fierce longing—longing to know it all, longing to unravel every mystery.

The medal was the only clue in his hands.

He began to train in basic martial techniques like a madman, watching its changes every day. When he brought the Basic Sword Technique to perfection, the numbers stopped moving. Tang Tang made new attempts; he tried second-rank martial techniques, and the numbers did not stir. Only when he switched to the Basic Palm Technique did the numbers begin to jump again.

Only basic martial techniques made the numbers move.

Year after year, he switched from one basic martial technique to another, and the numbers climbed—ten thousand, twenty thousand...—yet the medal showed no other reaction. The looks around him gradually changed, and mockery and sneers filled his ears; Tang Yue went from student of Ande Academy to repeat student, and then to repeat student supreme.

For five years, Tang Tang remained unchanged.

The numbers kept shifting.

99,9400.