Ten Thousand Tragedies

Wu Hao had underestimated just how much Jin Qilong wasn't fit for this. The clan heir hesitated when he shouldn't and fell for every trap, not because he didn't realize they were traps but because he overthought. When he struck he didn't commit, and when he did commit he overcommitted himself.

Jin Qilong was, in short, kind of a disaster. For the first time, when Wu Hao thought of Jin Qilong's tutors he felt a trace of pity.

The first time, Jin Qilong's saber had been smashed out of his hands. He'd taken a few slashes to the arms - shallow ones, but they bled hard - and the instructor had declared it a victory for Zhu Yelin.

The second time, he'd warned Jin Qilong about the style that Zhu Yelin used, and that time Jin Qilong had been successful enough that he'd managed to actually withstand the blow that'd knocked him down the first time. That was good. It'd remained a stalemate afterwards, though, and once Jin Qilong had ceded the pace then he seemed incapable of getting it back.

In both cases, Jin Qilong had looked so utterly crushed by his defeat that Wu Hao sincerely thought the other boy might kill himself. He had a similar ritual both times: the shaking of the lip as if he was supressing his urge to cry, the downcast head, the eyes that focused on nothing but the floor, and a qi that spoke of nothing but utter humiliation.

Then the saber fell to the floor and Jin Qilong couldn't even look at it anymore.

The first time, Wu Hao wound up killing himself that night, though he'd been hungry as hell as if to make it more miserable: whatever grace had allowed him to steal from the kitchens had been rescinded, and now he'd been chased out whenever he so much as tried to take a single cut of meat.

Lady Jin apparently wasn't pleased with him if her son lost. Wu Hao had no idea what else it might be, and frankly if anything happened in the compound it felt likely that Lady Jin was somehow involved anyway, no matter how obscure.

So. Either he gave up on the idea of dueling to increase Jin Qilong's confidence or he gave him some piece of advice that would lead him to victory.

It'd have to be the latter. Giving up just wasn't who he was, no matter how stupid it was. Besides, he could still get something from this attempt.

For that reason he hadn't waited until night had fully fallen, but instead he'd waited until the patrols began and then tried to make a break for it. He'd managed to actually make his way over the walls, but over the walls was as far as he'd gotten: a guard's saber had cut him in half before he'd managed to touch the ground outside.

A new kind of death, but the reward was the same.