The first time Fu Qianli traveled so far was the journey from her birthplace to Well of Heaven. In the biting…
The first time Fu Qianli traveled so far was the journey from her birthplace to Well of Heaven.
In the biting wind, the snow rose knee-deep. Each step she took sank deep until she was half-swallowed by the drifts, only to be hauled out by her senior brother as he turned back.
Looking up, a boundless white expanse stretched to the horizon, meeting the heavens. Well of Heaven remained a thousand miles distant.
Her senior brother smiled, pointing toward the faint, shimmering lights in the distance. "There it is," he said. "We're almost home!"
Home. A new home.
Everyone said she had a fine name. Qianli means a journey of a thousand miles. Her senior brother called it grand; her juniors envied its carefree spirit. She loved it herself.
Her thousand-mile journey ended at home, the best home imaginable. Practicing blades in spring, tempering physiques in summer, gathering pelts in autumn, and warming wine by the hearth in winter... The four seasons passed in steady, ordinary peace.
She no longer needed to wander from place to place, nor tread such wearying roads.
Yet, perhaps as a prophecy of her name, she eventually embarked on a thousand-mile journey once more.
The Hutuo River stretched a thousand miles, and Mount Taibai lay two thousand miles distant, yet the corpses of Well of Heaven disciples were piled within a mere three paces.
Her Heng blade grew heavy; the scent of blood filled her senses. Yet the resounding voices of her juniors, as they petitioned their Master, echoed in her ears.
Since finding home, only one cause could draw her a thousand miles away, and only one could make her never return.
"Master's wish: of our three hundred disciples, not one shall be left behind."
"Senior Sister... what if we cannot bring them back?"
"...Then we fight until the end. Three hundred disciples, not one left behind."