Chapter 3: The Path Chosen
The night was quiet, broken only by the occasional crackle of burning wood. The small hut was dimly lit by the dying embers in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
Jin sat across from his brother, his small hands clenched into fists. His thin frame looked even smaller compared to Shin's broad shoulders and muscular build. For a long time, neither spoke.
Then, Jin finally broke the silence.
"Shin, I want to learn martial arts."
Shin, who had been sharpening a hunting knife, paused. He looked up slowly, his expression unreadable. "No."
Jin had expected this. He had spent days thinking about how to convince his brother. He wasn't going to give up so easily.
"Why not?" Jin asked, his voice calm but firm.
Shin sighed, placing the knife down. "Because it leads to death, Jin. It's not a path you need to walk."
"Father was weak," Jin countered. "He let himself drown in alcohol. That's why he died, not because he was a warrior."
Shin's jaw tightened. "And our mother? She died too, didn't she?"
Jin flinched. The pain of their mother's loss was still fresh, even after six years. "That was different."
"Was it?" Shin asked, his voice heavy with emotion. "You think training will keep you safe? That getting stronger means you won't die?"
Jin didn't answer immediately. He had thought about this countless times. "I don't want to be weak, Shin. I don't want to sit and watch while others fight for me."
Shin leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto Jin's. "And what happens when you die, huh? What if you get cut down before you're strong enough? What if you end up like Father?"
Jin looked down, gripping his knees. "Then at least I'll have tried."
Shin exhaled sharply, frustration clear in his expression. "You're smart, Jin. Smarter than me. Use your mind, not your fists."
"I can do both," Jin argued.
"No," Shin said firmly. "Because if you train, you'll start fighting. And if you fight, you'll die."
Jin shook his head. "Then how am I supposed to protect you?"
Shin blinked. "Protect me?"
Jin clenched his fists tighter. "You're the only person I have left, Shin. You fight for me. But who fights for you?"
Shin's expression softened. He hadn't thought about it like that. He had spent all these years trying to protect Jin, but he never once considered how Jin might feel about it.
Even so… he couldn't let Jin walk the same path.
Shin sat back, rubbing his temples. "Alright… if you really want to be useful, then I'll allow you to train in something else."
Jin's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"
Shin looked at him seriously. "You won't learn martial arts. You won't become a warrior. But… you will learn something just as important. You will learn how to make bows."
Jin frowned. "Bow-making?"
Shin nodded. "You think strength is just about fighting? It's not. A bowmaker holds the power to arm an entire army. A weak bow can cost a life, but a well-crafted one can turn a battle."
Jin considered his brother's words. Bow-making wasn't what he had in mind… but it was a path. A way to grow. A way to become valuable.
"Fine," Jin said after a long pause. "I'll learn bow-making."
Shin exhaled in relief. "Good. Because I know the perfect person to teach you."
---
The next day, Shin and Jin made their way to the far end of the village. The hut they approached was old but sturdy, its walls covered in animal hides and broken bows. Smoke curled from a small forge in the back, and the scent of wood and glue filled the air.
Inside, an elderly man sat hunched over a half-finished bow. His hair was white, his hands gnarled from years of work, but his sharp eyes missed nothing.
"Master Liang Shen," Shin called out respectfully.
The old man barely glanced up. "If it's about training, my answer is the same as always. I don't take disciples anymore."
"It's not for me," Shin said, motioning toward Jin. "It's for my brother."
Liang Shen finally looked up, his sharp gaze settling on Jin. "You? You don't look like a warrior."
"I don't want to be a warrior," Jin said calmly. "I want to learn how to make bows."
Liang Shen raised an eyebrow. "Most boys your age want to shoot them, not craft them."
Jin shrugged. "A bowmaker holds the power to arm warriors. A weak bow can cost a life."
Liang Shen chuckled. "Smart boy." Then he turned to Shin. "And why do you want him to learn from me?"
Shin bowed deeply. "I promised our mother I would protect him. He wants strength. This is the only path I will allow."
Liang Shen studied them both before sighing. "I don't take disciples for free."
Shin tensed. "I will do whatever you ask."
Liang Shen smirked. "Good. I need rare materials—proper wood for bows, sinew for strings, and horn for composites. Find them for me, and I will teach your brother."
Shin hesitated, but Jin spoke first. "I accept."
Shin shot him a look, but Jin was already stepping forward, determination in his eyes.
Liang Shen grinned. "Then be here first thing tomorrow morning." He motioned for them to leave.
_ _
The morning air was crisp as Jin stepped into the workshop. The scent of wood shavings, glue, and the faint char of the forge filled his nose. Liang Shen was already at his workbench, running his fingers along a strip of wood. He didn't look up as Jin entered.
"Boy," Liang Shen said. "Can you read?"
Jin was taken aback. He had expected to start with wood carving, maybe even learning about bowstrings, but reading?
"I… can recognize some letters," Jin admitted.
Liang Shen finally looked at him, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every detail of Jin's face. "Not good enough."
Jin frowned. "What does reading have to do with bow-making?"
The old master smirked. "You want to be a craftsman, don't you? A real one? Not just some village boy carving wood with a knife?"
Jin nodded slowly.
"Then you need knowledge," Liang Shen said. "There are scrolls—written records of techniques passed down for centuries. Secrets of bow-making, the properties of wood, the nature of tension and force. If you can't read, you'll never understand them. You'll be no better than a blind man trying to paint."
Jin clenched his fists. He had always been observant, learning by watching, but he had never thought about the importance of written knowledge.
Liang Shen dropped a dusty scroll onto the table. "Your first task is to learn."
Jin opened the scroll, staring at the foreign letters. Some were familiar, but many were completely alien to him. He swallowed hard.
"How long do I have?" Jin asked.
"As long as it takes," Liang Shen replied. "If you can't read, I won't teach you anything else."
Jin's jaw tightened. He had no choice.
---
Jin threw himself into learning.For months, his days were filled with deciphering symbols, tracing characters in the dirt, and copying letters onto scraps of wood. Liang Shen was a harsh teacher, forcing Jin to memorize words, testing him constantly.
At night, Jin practiced under candlelight, mumbling the words to himself while Shin slept. His progress was slow at first, but soon, letters became words, words became sentences, and sentences began to make sense.
Shin watched with silent approval. He had never learned to read himself, but he could see the fire in Jin's eyes. His little brother was determined.
By the end of those long months, Jin could read fluently.
Liang Shen nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Now you are ready to learn about the world."
One evening, as they sat by the forge, Jin turned to Liang Shen. "Master, where exactly are we?"
Liang Shen leaned back, stroking his white beard. "This village is called Fei Hu. It is small, unimportant, hidden in the mountains."
Jin frowned. "Then… what lies beyond?"
The old man smirked. "Curious, are you?"
Jin nodded.
Liang Shen poked at the fire, watching the embers rise. "The world is vast, boy. To the east lies the great city of Long Yun, a place of merchants, scholars, and warriors. It is a place where men rise and fall like the tide."
Jin's mind raced. A city? He had never seen one, only heard whispers from passing traders.
"And beyond that?" Jin pressed.
Liang Shen chuckled. "Far beyond Long Yun is the province of Tianxu—a land of warlords, sects, and ancient legacies. It is said that those who seek power go there… but few return unchanged."
Jin absorbed every word.
Fei Hu was small, isolated. But outside, there were cities, provinces—places where people fought, traded, and built great things. A world much bigger than he had ever imagined.
His heart pounded with excitement.
Liang Shen watched him carefully. "You have the mind of a scholar, boy. But be warned—knowledge is a dangerous thing. It can open doors… or lead you to ruin."
Jin met his gaze. "Then I will walk carefully."
Liang Shen chuckled. "Good. Now, back to your studies. The world can wait. For now, you must learn to make something of yourself."
Jin nodded, but his thoughts remained restless.
One day, he would leave Fei Hu. One day, he would see Long Yun with his own eyes.
And maybe, just maybe… he would step into Tianxu and carve his own destiny.