Chapter 2: The Fall of Gao- Being a "Ruffian" Does Not Constitute Past Employment
Dongjing, Third Age 1924
Sitting near the banks of the Yellow River, she bit into a loaf of brown bread, chewing with a slightly open mouth. Her eyes wandered along the river, noting the many oars of the cargo and transport boats. They often passed under a large arching bridge filled to the brim with travelers, the same location she needed to cross. The sun shone high, casting shadows from the scattered trees and many buildings across Dongjing, a city that she hoped to call home.
Only two times had she been to Dongjing during her young life. The city was a bit far from her rural village, after all. The first memory was when she was a child spending a whole day in the capital. Hand-in-hand with her parents, she marveled at the strung lanterns, all in a myriad of shapes, during a festival with the smell of roasted food hanging in the air. The roasted mackerel-on-a-stick was quite tasty, its herb-encrusted skin crispy, while its meat was juicy. The fireworks later that night exploded in the air loud enough that she had to withdraw her hands from her parents' grasp to cover her ears. Despite its bombastic noise, the colors and the falling, ever-changing, star-like remnants made for one of the most memorable evenings in her life. That visit was cut short due to the Wainriders invading their village. Her Ma rushed back and drove them off while she and her father took a carriage back. The victory celebration led to... something she'd rather forget.
Her eyes shifted past the bridge towards the entrance of the gate, where guards were stopping and checking visitors.
The second visit was during her adolescence. She remembered other aspects of the city: the inspection by Dongjing's gate guards towards every visitor, the sounds of hammer on blade, the sight of patrolling constables with their black hats and truncheons, slurred words from drunkards stumbling out of taverns, open-door gambling dens where gold and jewels were piled onto tables, elaborately dressed male and female courtesans acting out historical and fictional scenes on a stage outside their brothels (centers of culture), street musicians playing instruments and singing tales of romance and war, entertainers blowing fire or juggling knives and swords, and a potpourri of smells from both food and waste. Another memory sprung forth of buying an iron spear and wrapping a bow on the end of it, which was quickly suppressed.
She took another large bite from the loaf of bread, chewing and looking in the distance.
On that visit, they visited a tavern where her father talked with some person named Lord Chai. Soon after said visit, her father left to join the Last Desert's Garrison. Apparently to fight wereworms or something. She had not seen him since.
Though she often thought about her father, life went on in the rural village. For much of her life, despite being the daughter of the village's Arms Instructor, she was, like most peasants, a corvée laborer. This meant everything from mining (they could not solely rely on the dwarves, after all), construction, burial work, logging, damming, roadwork, digging, toiling, farming, and any other assigned work. The labor usually lasted around half a year, however, not completely depriving their free time. If one gave birth to kids, their mandatory corvée time would be staggered accordingly so that the child would have at least one parent raising them until they could walk (assuming said parent did not perish during the work). Pregnancy-related deaths were reduced heavily due to the midwife work done by the elves, whose unimaginable years of experience prevented a lot of tragedies. This meant that more women could recover more quickly and get back to work sooner. That was the case for her parents when she was raised. She probably would have more siblings if her mother was not the village's Arms Instructor.
The remaining bread was gulped down, as she wiped the crumbs from her face with heavily callused fingers.
The hard work was both good and bad. Lifting logs, hurling sacks of grain, dragging rocks, and carrying off wounded people did wonder for her strength. Transporting said objects and people by hand or wheelbarrow for leagues on end boosted her endurance. Her ears and eyes could detect danger more easily. Plus, the frequency of wounds and scars was becoming less with the gaining of such "practical" wisdom. This experience only enhanced the power and speed she possessed from martial training.
But the bad stuff... They were not paid for their labor, for one (the number one complaint). There was also the matter of death and dismemberment. On each corvée assignment, she lost at least one or more friends or acquaintances. There was the incident with the cave troll who ripped one of her childhood friends into chunks and nearly left her armless. Another incident occurred with a living tree that forced the party to light the entire forest on fire, along with some of her friends stuck inside.
Every single one of her childhood friends were gone. Either dead, disabled, or... (her mind suppressed that person). If disabled, they were sent away from the village towards a safer place where they could prove their worth to the Empire.
Damming, redirecting, and canaling rivers proved dangerous to all but the hardiest of swimmers. Poisonous spiders and scorpion nests were also a threat while digging. Construction certainly did not provide a reprieve; she suffered multiple bone fractures after a wall fell down on her during an accident. Even farming could lead to grievous injuries. One time she saw someone almost chop their leg off with a scythe. The labor also put a heavy toll on the body. No wonder many of the villagers decided to have kids, multiple ones too. At least the pain and suffering would be at home and not abroad.
She unfastened a baldric, her attached sheathed sabre hitting the ground first. A bag that was tied next to her sheathed sabre was also removed, and she dug in and pulled out a wooden scroll.
However, those threats paled compared to the roaming Wainriders. Trolls very rarely came in packs, would not come out during the day, and could be buffeted and led on a goose chase by horse archers, one by one, during the night. Spider and scorpion poison had medicinal properties, so after that discovery, their respective populations had drastically decreased due to hunters and merchants wanting to earn money. Living trees were rare...and very flammable. But the Wainriders were a threat to everyone. Those fiends were a menace at home and abroad. They drove large chariots where they effectively utilized hit-and-run tactics. They captured villagers, particularly women, whenever they could, and their homes constantly changed. When the Eastern Empire thought they found out where a section of them lived, the Wainriders would move to a different location. Their homes had wheels or something! Every time the Eastern Empire drove them to the West, they would storm right back eastward to terrorize them. There was a reason why every village had an Arms Instructor teaching everyone how to fight. But most villages did not have enough horses, let alone horse archers, to counteract the chariots.
With those lovely thoughts in mind, she opened the wooden scroll and could not suppress a smile as she read the following to herself:
"Instructor Wang Sheng recommends Wang Jin to become an Arms Instructor. The following are her combat proficiencies:
Lance: Excellent ('you sure are confident in my horse-riding abilities')
Mallet: Above Average ('heavy')
Longbow: Average ('can't shoot quickly')
Crossbow: Great ('wish I could reload faster')
Bludgeon: Great ('armorslayers')
Truncheon: Excellent ('constables love using these')
Chain: Poor ('it was just a couple of wine pots, Ma')
Hooks: Average ('harder to use than they appear')
Sword: Excellent ('the weapon of the scholar')
Sabre: Excellent ('wearing one right now')
Hatchet: Great ('these help with trees')
Axe: Above Average ('wish they were lighter')
Trident: Great ('prefer the halberd')
Halberd: Great ('love these, wish they were lighter')
Shield: Above Average ('if only they were sharper')
Spear: Excellent ('the perfect weapon, if only they could be retractable')
Staff: Excellent ('good for practice')
She is a quick learner ('never said that to me before!') and will make a fine Arms Instructor ('would more praise really hurt, Ma?')."
Closing the wooden scroll, making sure the blocks were rolled properly, Wang Jin placed it back in the bag, fingering the strings of iron coins inside to make sure there was enough of an 'additional reason' to employ her. Re-fastening the bag, she attached it to the hip side of the baldric. Then, she re-positioned her sabre so that when she wore the baldric the weapon hung off her back rather than her side. After all, it was against the law for civilians to carry weapons on their side unless they were performing. It was harder to unsheathe most weapons from the back, after all.
Standing up, Wang Jin wiped the dust off her light green pants, shook the dust off the long sleeves of her light green undershirt and coat, and adjusted her light green turban to be more symmetrical, flicking the two ribbon-like corners in the process. She was not used to wearing these turbans, but her mother said that she needed one to appear more like one of the city folk ("They look down on us rural folk for some reason.") She couldn't remove the tan from her face, so hopefully Dongjing had good sunlight this season. Rising from the banks of the Yellow River, she walked towards the bridge, ready to enter the capital of the Eastern Empire for the third time in her life.
"Ack! AHH! OOF! OW! SOMEBODY... OWW! HELP! HELP!" screamed a disheveled man, his hair unbound and his clothes becoming more tattered by the second. Five people were beating him up. Two held him upright while the rest took turns punching and kicking him. More specifically, kicks to the stomach, groin, and when he doubled over, punches to the face. Then once his neck lurched back, kicks to the stomach, groin, and so on.
"What... what… in the world is going on?" Wang Jin asked aloud, walking to the side of a flea market tent, her eyes widened in shock, focusing on the beatdown. A crowd had grown, some pointing, some gasping, others exchanging bets on who would win, and even a couple furiously getting out their brush and canvas as if to draw the scene.
"It's that Gao Gang. Their gang has been terrorizing the streets, taking money from entertainers," responded an onlooker, "that one getting beat up was showing off with a staff, and Gao didn't like that."
The disheveled man suddenly collapsed to the ground as the two people holding him were shaking their arms, muttering about soreness ("Just take your beating, wimp. Stop struggling. Ugh, think I strained somethin'..."), "AAH MOMMY, DADDY, SOMEBODY!" the disheveled man screeched, crawling towards the location where Wang Jin and the onlooker were surveying the "fight."
He was immediately dragged back, cracked fingernails crawling vainly on the pavement.
A young girl ahead of the brawling group pointed at the disheveled man as if overseeing the beatdown, "We're not done with you yet, show off!" She had a rainbow pink flower in her hair, tied into two twin topknots like a mouse hat. She wore a frilly light pink coat with an assortment of flower-shaped embroidery stitched all over.
Wang Jin's eyes briefly widened, nodding sagely, "aah yes. That dastardly Gao... curse their name to the... seventh generation," she commented towards her fellow onlooker, "... impressive, though, being a leader at such an age."
The onlooker blinked twice and looked at Wang Jin as if she had a third eye, "...you must be... are you even from?... That's... that's Yanny, or Laurel, or whatever name that little girl has. The one behind that girl is Gao," responded the onlooker in exasperation.
Wang Jin tilted her head, squinting beyond Yanny/Laurel and seeing a taller, athletic-looking fellow, balancing a multi-colored ball on his right shoe. That must be Gao. He had thick sideburns stretching towards the bottom of his ears, which were normal-sized. For a gang leader, he looked young, as he had facial scars. Not the ones earned from fighting, but ones earned from eating too much pork and chicken fat (Ma always had a way with words).
Wang Jin's eyes briefly widened, nodding sagely, "aah yes. That dastardly... Gao... demon," she commented towards her fellow onlooker, "... impressive, though, being a leader at such an age."
The onlooker did not bother to respond, focusing his eyes on the disheveled man now being beaten by the gang repeatedly hitting him with benches and chairs. It did appear though that their movements were slowing down, as Yanny/Laurel was barking at them to quicken the pace.
"WILL SOMEBODY-ACK! PLEASE-NO! HELP! GARRGH! THIS REALLY HURTS!" The disheveled man cried. The bystanders kept on pointing and gasping, muttering amongst themselves. Some gamblers looked angry, stomping their feet and pulling their hair in frustration. The few artists, meanwhile, furiously stroked the canvas in precise movements.
The onlooker shook their head, muttering to themselves, "what an indulgent wastrel that Gao is. Wasted all their money in gambling dens and brothels. Cost their family a fortune, and their inheritance too."
"Brothel," muttered Wang Jin, "brothel... oh."
She remembered herself as a child on that first visit, mouth agape, in Dongjing outside of "Dongjing's Most Cultural and Artistic Brothel" watching a stage where two half-naked combatants repeatedly grappled and struck each other for an entire hour. She was so happy, and so angry at moments, and so scared, jumping up and down, worryingly swaying side to side, rooting for Tiger Mask, the clear underdog, to beat Tulkas, that overgrown brute. And when Tiger Mask suddenly rolled him up, pinning him 1...2...3, and won, little Wang Jin yelled and hollered with the rest of the crowd. Babies were thrown in the air, flowers, and bouquets were thrown on stage, world hunger ended, no more corvée labor, etc. Tiger Mask was carried off by the crowd like the hero he was. And Tulkas... well nobody knew where he went, but the day was won by Tiger Mask!
Her mom later told her that the fight was staged.
A part of Wang Jin died that day.
But it all made sense now to her. Why the disheveled man ("YOU! GREEN SHIRT! HELP ME!") had not fallen unconscious yet from the beating. Why he was still yelling coherently. Why Gao's Gang were breathing heavily as they were getting more tired of beating the man up. Why Yanny/Laurel herself was trying to catch her breath from yelling so much. Why Gao himself looked so bored.
Gao's Gang didn't know how to fight. And they couldn't even make it look good.
Wang Jin's fists clenched and shook. Since her childhood, she always trained her hands by first holding rice grains, and twisting her fists until eventually one day she could turn them into crumbs. In training, she would punch bags, trees, and rocks, until her knuckles would split, recover, split, recover, split, until they split no more and her fists were hardened. She kicked with her bare feet, ankles, and bare legs on logs and beams. They bruised all over and hurt, and when they hurt no more, she would do it again and again until her leg and foot bones were strong. It wasn't because she wanted to train, she needed to train. She was a corvée laborer, a part-time slave, working for some stupid Emperor in a stupid Empire, and she did not even get paid to do it! Every single one of her friends were gone, and she was the only one left. And they died working for and protecting these people? She broke her bones for these charlatans?
The person she tried forgetting reappeared in her mind, someone who she recently had a 'falling out' with, an understatement to say the least. Luan Tingyu was right! These capital denizens didn't deserve Wang Jin. What in the world was she doing here?
But it was too late. What was done was done, and even if Tingyu was right, Wang Jin made her choice. There was no going back to the village now, it was time to make things right in the capital! One body at a time.
That troll felt her anger when her spear was thrown through its eye. That stupid living tree felt the pain of flame when she crossbowed flaming oil bolts into its trunk. The spiders fell to both shield and sword; the scorpions squashed with mighty mallet swings. The Wainriders would raid, and blood would cover Wang Jin's face afterward, but it was not hers. While these Dongjing street ruffians would not die today (the bribery cost would be enormous with all the witnesses), she would make sure they would remember the lesson they would learn: fight well or don't fight at all.
Her shoulders lowered, teeth bared like a wolf, eyes uncontrollably twitching. The onlooker backed away as if seeing the Destroyer God Sauron himself.
Then suddenly, Wang Jin sprang into the fray. A split second after the ruffians saw the commotion, one of them was thrown straight into a peddler stall, causing the stall to collapse on him. The crowd near the stall dispersed, and cries of "what a throw!" were uttered.
"Who are-Bleghahk," the second ruffian uttered as Wang Jin uppercut his chin with a right kick-towards-the-heavens. Then in an immediate second motion, thrust the same shoe-covered foot into his chest with a sickening crack.
As the second ruffian fell backward, the third tried a flanking maneuver towards her right and swung a chair as if to behead her. Wang Jin ducked and, noticing the open target after the failed chair strike, dug her left knee into the third ruffian's solar plexus. As the third ruffian bowed over, eyes and mouth strained open, she nailed the point of her left elbow onto the back of the ruffian's head.
The third ruffian collapsed face-first onto the ground, revealing a petrified and shivering Yanny/Laurel, with frightened tears in the corners of her eyes.
"Hmph," Wang Jin said, turning her back towards the child, grabbing the chair, and chucking it into the collapsed stand where the first ruffian was buried.
"YAAAAA," cried Yanny/Laurel as she charged, with her right fist raised and her eyes closed, towards Wang Jin. The latter did not even form a stance, standing as straight as a tree, catching the fist with her left hand. She waited for Yanny/Laurel's eyes to open, then waited for the fear to appear. Just as her mouth began to open, Wang Jin smote her left cheek with a fist. Down went the child, along with a rainbow pink flower, two white teeth, and red saliva leaving her mouth. The onlookers gasped, "That woman hit a little girl!" a few cried, pointing in panic, but still not really doing anything.
That was when Gao himself finally acted, veins throbbing near his temple, and with a running start, he did a leaping kick as if he was shot out of an arrow.
Only to miss as Wang Jin stepped out of the way ("amateur"). As Gao stumbled and tried to get into a martial arts position, he turned his face and was greeted by a back fist between his eyes.
"GRAGH! Kuhh-" he shrieked in pain, then gasped as a back fist struck his solar plexus. Wang Jin promptly then slapped his left cheek, then backhanded his right cheek. Now dazed, Gao's head wobbled as he struggled to maintain his focus. She then took one step back, placed her right foot forward, and aimed a left kick towards the heavens, as if punting a football, except Gao's crotch was the target. His voice went up several octaves as he collapsed on his back, rolling around with his arms desperately clutching his private parts.
Most of the women in the crowd winced. Almost all the men could no longer watch the fight. A lot of the children laughed.
Wang Jin had a plain expression, shifting her eyes toward the two remaining ruffians in front of her. The disheveled man had left during the one-sided melee. But in terms of the remaining ruffians, she had not attacked... One of them was on their knees, clutching their arm in pain. The other shrugged and said, "my arms are too tired. Can't fight."
Rolling her eyes, Wang Jin turned around and just was about to exit the avenue, when she stopped mid-step and her expression quickly blanched.
A constable, in his customary black attire with a black cylindrical hat, held a truncheon in one hand, lightly hitting the palm of the other hand, as if he was ready to use the weapon. The crowd hushed, and most of them began going on with their business. A few walked towards the collapsed peddler stand, aiming to help fix it and wake the unconscious ruffian within the remains.
"Speak! What exactly happened here."
How in the world will Wang Jin get out of this one? Will this constable be beaten up as well? To find out Wang Jin's response, read the next chapter.