"Aiden, no, that's not right. When you thrust with the sword, it should be like this."
Under the blazing sun and clear skies, a dark-skinned, slightly tall six- or seven-year-old boy swung a gleaming sword, thrusting at a straw dummy. Beside him, a female swordsman guided his movements, while an elderly man sat on a large stone, holding a sword that looked like a gnarled piece of wood.
The old man carried a small gourd on his back and balanced a lotus leaf atop his head, smiling cheerfully as he watched the boy practice swordsmanship.
"Aiden, you are truly favored by fortune. Take a break, there's no need to rush..."
Before Moses Zane could finish, the boy called Aiden thrust his sword several more times with determination, clearly unwilling to rest.
"Master Moses, Aiden has real talent. I believe he'll inherit your legacy one day."
Moses Zane just smiled and shook his head, quietly watching the boy wield his sword without saying a word.
Aiden seemed to be running out of strength, but he kept practicing. Monica Qiu, who was teaching him, watched with a knowing smile.
Moses Zane did not intervene, though his eyes showed a hint of helplessness.
This place was in the wilderness of Qiland, near the northern wildlands. Moses Zane knew his life was coming to an end, so he chose to spend his final years here, cared for by his young disciple.
Everything had been peaceful, but half a year ago, a nearby tribe was invaded by barbarians. The entire tribe was wiped out, and when they arrived, blood already flowed through the streets. This small, remote Shen Family only survived by paying tribute to Qiland each year, escaping destruction until now.
Moses Zane was deeply grieved, forced to witness such horrors right before his death—things he had hoped never to see again.
Yet the Shen Family was not completely destroyed. Beneath the corpses, a child survived, hiding for days and nights, silently enduring as the barbarians ravaged his home for three days and nights.
Afterward, Moses Zane took in the six-year-old boy. Though there was still a language barrier, the child learned quickly and could communicate simply after just half a year.
As dusk approached, Aiden had practiced all day. The three of them ate dinner in front of a few mud huts in a shabby village house. Outside, there was a vegetable garden, and a small river flowed nearby.
This was the border of Qiland. Years ago, there had been a barbarian invasion, and since then the village had been deserted. Moses Zane chose this place for its scenery and abundance, intending to spend his final days here.
The female disciple who accompanied him was Monica Qiu, who had followed him for over a decade. Though young, she was already one of the most senior members of the Zane Family.
"Master, the Zane Family has split into three factions. Everyone wishes you could..."
"Worldly matters no longer concern me, Monica. Tomorrow, continue teaching Aiden his sword practice."
Monica Qiu looked at Moses Zane in confusion. She couldn't understand why, after rescuing this child, her teacher's once-troubled face now showed a smile. He used to mention the state of the world and the Zane Family's rivalry with the Confucians, but now he never spoke of such things.
Monica Qiu knew her teacher Moses Zane didn't have much time left. She followed him not out of pure loyalty, but so that after his death, she could reclaim the Zane Family's most important heirloom—the Founder's Sword. It was the black iron lump Moses Zane always kept at his side; if not for its long, pointed tip, one might not even call it a sword.
Now, the Zane Family had split into three factions, and every one of them coveted the Founder's Sword—the blade wielded for a lifetime by Moses Zane, the family's founder. Whoever possessed this heirloom would be recognized as the legitimate successor of the Zane Family. The rest would be cast off as mere offshoots.
The factional struggle had grown more intense, with each group supporting a different king. The situation within the family was becoming increasingly chaotic.
As a member of the Xiangfu Faction, Monica Qiu naturally wanted to claim the Founder's Sword for her own side. That was why she had traveled all the way to Qi Kingdom, eventually finding Moses Zane and staying by his side.
No one would find them in this place now. Perhaps it was curiosity, or something else, but after dinner, Aiden Shen wandered over to the Founder's Sword and picked it up.
"Aiden Shen."
Monica Qiu immediately scolded him sharply, but Moses Zane just laughed and told Monica Qiu not to worry—it was only a child, after all.
The Founder's Sword was heavy, and Aiden Shen struggled to even swing it. Moses Zane smiled helplessly from the side, but seeing how reluctant Aiden Shen was to put it down, Moses Zane stood up and walked over.
"Aiden Shen, do you like this thing?"
Monica Qiu's face changed instantly. Moses Zane smiled at Aiden Shen, his expression gentle.
"When the day comes that you master swordsmanship and understand what I have taught you, this Founder's Sword will be yours."
"Master."
Monica Qiu immediately stood up, her face pale with shock as she stared at Moses Zane.
Moses Zane took back the Founder's Sword and told Aiden Shen to go to bed early—the sun had set and night was falling. Monica Qiu watched Moses Zane anxiously.
"Monica, I know you came here for the Founder's Sword, the heirloom I carry—for your faction."
Monica Qiu immediately folded her arms and bowed, quietly calling out, like a child who had made a mistake.
"Teacher."
"No matter how great a person or philosophy is, it can never be perfect. Though I founded the Zane Family myself, our teachings and beliefs are flawed. I am no saint. That is why the Zane Family has split into three factions. In name, we are still one family, but in reality, everything has changed—too many in this world are blinded by greed and desire."
Monica Qiu listened in silence, head bowed, to Moses Zane's words.
"It's like a tree—if it wants to grow strong, its roots must spread wide. But only a few thick roots can truly support the tree to become mighty. Do you know why? Everything in this world has an end, and beneath that end are these tangled, sprawling roots."