A few weeks had passed since Feiyin first began training with the militia, and the once unfamiliar faces of the warriors had become as familiar as the trees that lined the village. At first, they had treated him as an amusing curiosity—an eager child tagging along with his father, wide-eyed and determined. But as the days turned into weeks and he showed up each morning without fail, his place among them shifted. They no longer looked at him as just Cai Feng’s son, but as their little brother, a part of their rough, battle-worn family.


    The morning air was crisp as he made his way toward the training grounds, his pace quick with excitement. He had learned so much in these past weeks—not just about combat, but about the men themselves. Jiang Hu, the burly warrior who always had a teasing remark, was the loudest but had the sharpest eyes when it came to assessing footwork. Sun Ke, barely out of boyhood himself, took a special interest in training Feiyin, though he never missed a chance to play small tricks on him. There were others, too—Zhao Wei, the quiet but steady swordsman, and Lao Min, who always claimed to be too old for this but never missed a single drill.


    As Feiyin stepped into the training grounds, he immediately caught sight of Sun Ke leaning casually against a wooden post, his sharp eyes flicking toward him. Without a word, he slipped something into his palm and closed Feiyin’s fingers around it. Feiyin didn’t even have to look to know—it was another piece of candied hawthorn. Sun Ke had a habit of sneaking him treats before training, as if bribing him to keep quiet about it. Feiyin smirked and popped it into his mouth, savoring the burst of sweet and sour before Jiang Hu’s booming voice interrupted.


    “Oi, you two whispering secrets again? Feiyin, don’t let Sun Ke corrupt you. Next thing you know, he’ll be teaching you how to sneak into the wine storage.”


    Feiyin quickly swallowed, trying to look innocent, while Sun Ke scoffed. “I would never. That’s more of Lao Min’s expertise.”


    Lao Min, stretching nearby, didn’t even bother looking up. “And yet I’m not the one who got caught last time.”


    Laughter rippled through the group as Jiang Hu clapped a heavy hand on Feiyin’s back, nearly making him stumble. “Alright, little brother, let’s see if you’re ready for today’s lesson. No more easy drills.”


    Feiyin straightened, his chest swelling with anticipation. He had spent these past weeks perfecting his stance, learning how to balance his weight properly, how to redirect force instead of just absorbing it. But today, they were focusing on movement. His father had always said that footwork was the foundation of every great warrior, but training with the militia had drilled that truth into him in a way that simple words never could.


    Jiang Hu gestured toward the training area. “We’re working on movement efficiency today. Doesn’t matter how strong you are if your feet are in the wrong place. You step wrong, you fall. You hesitate, you die.” He grinned. “And since you’re so small, Feiyin, you better be quick.”


    Feiyin scowled at the mention of his size but said nothing, stepping into position alongside the others. The drill began with simple evasive movements—sidesteps, pivots, controlled retreats—but quickly escalated. The warriors had to react instantly, dodging imaginary strikes while maintaining their center of gravity. Feiyin watched how the older warriors moved, how Jiang Hu barely wasted a step, how Zhao Wei seemed to glide rather than walk.


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    He closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling the oscillations of the ground beneath him, the shifting weight of those around him. When he opened them again, he moved—not by thinking, but by instinct, flowing between steps rather than forcing them. His feet barely made a sound as he adjusted his stance, always one step ahead of where an attack might land.


    When the drill ended, Jiang Hu eyed him with approval. “Hmph. You’ve got good instincts, little brother.”


    Feiyin grinned, sweat beading on his forehead. “Of course.”


    They moved on to stability training. It was one thing to dodge and weave, but another entirely to hold one’s ground when it mattered. Feiyin was paired with Sun Ke again, who grinned as he cracked his knuckles. “You ready?”


    Feiyin nodded, bracing himself. Sun Ke pushed against him, not too hard at first, testing his stance. Feiyin dug his heels into the dirt, feeling his internal strength settle into his core. The first few pushes, he held firm. But Sun Ke wasn’t going easy. His next shove was stronger, unexpected. Feiyin’s body tilted, but at the last second, he adjusted, using a small shift in weight rather than brute force to stabilize himself.


    Sun Ke chuckled. “Not bad. You’re learning.”


    The drills continued, transitioning into hand-to-hand combat practice. They weren’t throwing full-strength blows, but the movements were precise, testing reflexes, counters, and control over internal strength. Feiyin was small, but he had one advantage—he was fast, and he knew how to move.


    When Sun Ke lunged at him, Feiyin ducked, redirecting the force of the attack rather than blocking it head-on. He shifted his weight, countering with a quick palm strike to the chest, which Sun Ke barely dodged.


    Jiang Hu, watching from the sidelines, let out a laugh. “You sure you’re only five, kid? I know grown men with worse form than that.”


    Feiyin wiped his brow, breathing hard, but grinning. “You’re just old, Brother Jiang.”


    Jiang Hu let out an exaggerated gasp. “The disrespect!”


    The other warriors burst into laughter, and Feiyin felt something warm settle in his chest.


    As training wound down, they sat together, sharing food and stories. Feiyin listened as the warriors spoke about Red Moon City, about disputes between merchants, about bandits lurking near the borders. Even though Pine Village was small, it wasn’t isolated. The world beyond was full of movement, of power struggles, of dangers lurking beneath the surface.


    Sun Ke leaned over, nudging Feiyin. “You keep training like this, and one day, you’ll be leading a militia of your own.”


    Feiyin raised an eyebrow. “Why would I stop at just a militia?”


    Sun Ke grinned. “Now that’s the kind of ambition I like to hear.”


    The sun hung lower in the sky by the time Feiyin made his way home, his legs aching but his heart full. As he walked, he realized something.


    These past few weeks, training with the militia hadn’t just been about learning to fight. It had been about finding his place among warriors, feeling the bonds of camaraderie, understanding the strength of standing together.


    He wasn’t just a boy training with soldiers anymore.


    He was one of them.