Chapter 2. A Chick in a Cat's Claws
In the morning, Su the Blacksmith went with Zhen to the smeltery by the mines, while the elder and younger sons stayed behind to forge nails for an order.
The Ironstream Mines spread out at the foot of the Green Mountains — a place where the earth seemed to bleed metal. From a distance, they were greeted by the sounds of work: the clang of picks, the creaking of carts, the shouts of overseers.
Uncle Lin's smeltery stood by a mountain stream that powered a waterwheel.
Lin was the older, full brother of the blacksmith Su and had spent some time traveling, studying martial arts, and serving as a caravan guard. But eventually, he returned to where it all began: the forge and the smelting of steel.
"Today we're smelting ore for the duke's armory," the father said without looking back. "Watch how Uncle Lin works — learn and help. I'll go talk to the client from the capital."
The Ironstream smeltery buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Flames danced in the huge furnaces, and the air shook with the blows of a massive water hammer.
Zhen, gritting his teeth, dragged a basket of coal to the main furnace, where Uncle Lin, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, was thoughtfully studying a test ingot of steel poured the night before.
"Hey, eaglet," a gray-haired smelter in his fifties called out, "the duke's blades need the purest metal. Take a look at this ingot — see what good steel is supposed to look like."
Then Uncle Lin gave the boy a whole lecture about how the slag should look on top and how to get the same pattern in the steel.
Zhen nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He had always wondered how someone as skilled in martial arts as Uncle Lin had ended up here, surrounded by soot and fire.
"Uncle Lin," he started carefully when the man paused to catch his breath, "why aren't you in the capital? With your skills, you could be training the duke's guards..."
Lin snorted and pulled a gourd of water from his belt.
"Ha! Guards?" He took a big gulp and wiped his mouth. "In the capital, there are ten starving masters on every corner. And I've got a wife, two daughters, and a mother-in-law to feed." He pointed toward the smeltery. "Here, they pay silver. And I won't end up coming home one day with a hole in my gut just because some young noble wanted to prove he's better than me."
He threw another load of coal into the furnace, and sparks flew up to the ceiling.
"At forty, you figure out that fame's nice, but dinner on the table is better. Our father… your grandfather, told me that right away when I set off on those damn fool adventures.
Most martial artists end their lives, if not in a grave, then as members of some gang—bandits and scoundrels who can do nothing but take the fruits of others' labor. Idlers and fools, ruining their own lives and the lives of others.
Being able to protect yourself and your loved ones is important, but dedicating your entire life to martial arts is a path to nowhere."
Zhen wanted to say something, but just then a gong rang out and someone shouted:
"Break time! Let's eat!"
Uncle Lin clapped him on the shoulder.
"Go on, stretch your legs after you eat, eaglet. I can see you can't sit still."
***
Following a trail that led into the pine forest, Zhen came out into a clearing. It was his training ground — a small field ringed with boulders, perfect for practice.
He threw off his sweaty shirt and started with slow circular movements to warm up his muscles. First, he practiced the external form of Eagle Soaring the Sky, then began his physical training with stone dumbbells.
"One-two-three, one-two..."
Suddenly, his skin crawled.
He could feel with every fiber of his being that someone was watching him. The sensation pierced through his entire body and was something he couldn't ignore.
Zhen froze, slowly turning his head.
Whoever it was stood downwind, so he couldn't smell or hear it. A man?
A flash of orange flickered behind an old pine.
"Oh, crap..."
A beast stood fifty paces away, crouching low. Its yellow eyes never left Zhen. Now Zhen could clearly see it.
Cold sweat ran down his back. The trail to the smeltery was behind the tiger.
"Crap, crap, crap..." Panic gripped him.
The tiger took one more step forward.
Zhen slowly stepped back, and at that moment, the tiger roared and lunged, cutting him off from the trail.
There was only one option left — run deeper into the forest.
He dashed into the trees, zigzagging, hearing the heavy panting of the beast behind him. Branches whipped his face, roots tried to trip him, but he flew forward, his heart pounding in his ears.
Up ahead he spotted a cliff — and a narrow trail winding up toward the rocks.
"What? The trail from my dream?" he gasped.
"Run to the cave... I'll save you..." a whisper echoed in Zhen's head.
"Am I losing my mind..." Zhen thought, almost ready to cry.
There was no time to think. The tiger wasn't going to wait.
Zhen scrambled up the trail, stones sliding under his feet. He had to run — anywhere, just not back.
After running about a hundred more steps, he reached a familiar stone wall and looked around. No sign of the tiger.
The cliff face was exactly like he had seen in his dream. Trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart, he stepped closer and pressed his palm to the sun-heated stone — hot as a frying pan. The words he had heard so many times in his dreams slipped from his lips:
"Om La Sa Ra Mi Ma Da Ra Hong..."
The stone rippled like water, and part of the wall disappeared, revealing a passage — tall and perfectly straight, as if cut by a blade. Beyond it shimmered walls glowing with a soft blue light.
Zhen's heart froze in amazement.
Everything was happening in reality.