Shi Zhen

"Hey, surrendering to the Khitans, isn't that just crawling on all fours like a dog? Not just me, but if my dad did that, I'd never show my face again! Unlike some little pups..." Shi Zhen stood several paces away, but it didn't matter. The men sneered as they shouldered past him, knocking the medicine bottle from his hand. "Oops, He... no, it's Shi Zhen." His fists clenched, then relaxed. Even if he punched them right then, even if he beat them to the ground, what good would it do? The moment his father, He Hui, had knelt in surrender on the battlefield had crushed him for years, grinding his name from He Zhen to Shi Zhen. They spoke the truth, and fists couldn't shatter truth. Silent, he listened as their footsteps faded. The fallen medicine bottle had shattered, reopening the wound on his arm. It didn't hurt enough. The army was full of brawls and injuries, but for Shi Zhen, the sharpest pain came from the shove that jostled his shoulder, just hard enough to knock him off balance. Only Khitan blood could numb this ache. Only reclaiming the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun could give him the strength to stand upright again. That day would come. He would stand twice in his life: once to undo his father's kneel, once to stand for himself. It will come. A name's shame can be washed clean. His foster father will look at him with pride. The one who holds his heart will stand beside him. That day would come... it had to.

"The Shadow Arsenal? What kind of place is that?" He didn't listen to Shi Shouxin's explanations. Didn't see the flicker of deliberate intent in the old general's eyes. All he knew was that it was a place without sunlight, a shameful secret, and he was being made its keeper. But what of his ambition? His honor? His shame? Darkness could not wash away darkness. The underground could not defend glory. Manipulating money over drinks, trading secrets in the shadows, how could any of this counter the weight on his shoulders? Why me? Why choose me? But for most things, whether you're a lord or a commoner, the most futile question is: Why me? Shi Zhen had thought he had people beside him, that he lived for both himself and others. But looking back, he saw only his own footprints. No one had ever stood with him. Because he was the son of a traitor, that was why. The world's injustices could be fought with swords, but how does one battle the injustice in their own heart? That day will never come. Never... No. Injustice in the heart can be fought. He stared at the Shadow Arsenal before him. Wasn't it filled with swords and blades? One day, those underground blades would see the light. One day, those who dwell in the dark would stand in the sun again.