Li Qinghua closed the shop early.

  The brass bell chimed as she locked the front door. Forty years she'd heard that bell. Now, it felt like the end of a very long dream. Whether she liked to or not. She couldn't pretend to be sleeping forever.

  She walked through the back room, past the shelves of remedies, and into the courtyard. She wore her dàjīn shān.

  A side-fastening jacket, buttoned from shoulder to hip. A pair of phoenixes were along the collar and cuffs, fine threadwork you'd miss from a distance but notice up close.

  Not decorative in the showy sense. The kind of embroidery that old families put on everyday clothes because it's what they've always done. The phoenix is hers by right. Feminine, traditional, a symbol of grace and renewal.

  Paired with straight-legged trousers and cloth shoes with flat soles. Practical. Work clothes that still carry the mark of where she came from.

  The afternoon light came through the gaps in the walls. The water basin on the side, stool and table to the right. The potted bonsai rustled in the slight breeze.

  She'd planted that bonsai when the courtyard was just bare concrete and weeds. Now the city had grown up all around her, leaving just this courtyard intact. She set the kettle on the small burner. Daniel would arrive soon. He always came on time.

  The tea leaves went into the pot. Oolong. Her brother's favorite.

  The thought came the way it always did when she handled these leaves.

  You just had to be a hero, didn't you. Had to stand and fight when everyone else ran.

  She could still see him. That last morning before the Japanese came. He'd been laughing about something, some joke she couldn't remember now. His robes had been wrinkled because he never folded them properly. The great grandmaster of their sect, and he couldn't fold a robe to save his life.

  She'd always folded them for him. Even when they were children and he was supposed to be the responsible one.

  And now look at me. An old woman running a medicine shop, pretending I don't remember anything.

  The water started to heat. She watched the first bubbles form at the bottom of the kettle.

  Maybe it was time to stop pretending.

  Daniel was just like him. Too smart for his own good, but when it came to himself. He couldn't see his left from his right. Bad thoughts seemed to haunt him, and she wasn't sure if she would be able clear the clouds away from his troubled past. If her brother had been here, he would have known how to sand down those edges. He'd always been good with people.

  But her brother wasn't here. There was just her.

  Can I even do this properly? Someone like me?

  She hadn't been the studious one. Hadn't paid attention during the lectures, spent too much time sneaking off to watch birds or steal peaches from the orchard. Her brother had covered for her, the way she'd covered for him when he snuck out at night to meet that girl from the village.

  They'd been a pair. Him with the talent and the discipline, her with... what? Stubbornness. A refusal to die when she probably should have.

  If I'd gone down fighting like you, I wouldn't have to deal with any of this.

  The kettle whistled. She poured the water over the leaves, watching the steam rise.

  Decades of hiding. Of pretending to be ordinary person. Of watching the martial world disappear while she sold cough remedies.

  And now qi was coming back. And she was supposed to... what? Pass on a legacy she'd spent half her life running from?

  In the end, we all end up becoming who we were meant to be. Whether we like to or not.

  Her brother was right about that.

  She set the teapot aside to steep.

  Maybe today when Daniel arrived, she'd finally do it properly.

  The formal acknowledgment. Not because she deserved to be anyone's master, but because there was no one else left. If not, she could only place her hopes that at least some part of the temple remained after the war. That someone's child, somewhere, had taken the responsibility she should have so many years ago.

  The potted plants in the courtyard stopped rustling.

  Li Qinghua paused, teacup halfway to her lips.

  The street had gone quiet. Something was wrong.

  She set the cup down and waited.

  They came over the walls, and from the front of the shop. Skilled, but only in the ways a burglar would be. They didn't have the confident footsteps of a trained killer.

  At the back of the courtyard, near her chair, the display case held two sabers. They'd hung there for decades. Most visitors thought they were decorative antiques but she knew better.

  "Can I help you?" Li Qinghua asked. Her voice was calm, even as they started to approach her. She was simply an old shopkeeper, confused by uninvited guests. If they meant to rob her, at least she wouldn't have to do anything.

  The first one smiled.

  "Just an old woman," he said to the others. "This won't take long. We're here to send a message. If you stay still this won't hurt too much."

  Li Qinghua looked at them. Twelve, with more shadows in the doorway behind. Some carrying weapons, bats, swords, knives. Others with just fists.

  "I see," she said. "Not a robbery then. You're after me."

  She slowly got up and walked.

  The display case was six steps away.

  They watched her walk to the display case.

  One of them laughed. "Look at this. This old lady really thinks she's going to fight? Did someone slip something in your medication old hag?"

  Another joined in. "Even if you got there do you really think you have a chance? Just lay down and maybe my fist won't land too hard on your face."

  Li Qinghua stopped in front of the case. The two sabers hung there, crossed, the way they'd hung since she had arrived in this foreign land. At times, she had thought about putting them into storage but somehow, they always remained here. The lacquer on the handles had faded. The tassels had slightly lost their color. One a faded gold, the other a soft blue. But the edges were still sharp. She had made sure of that.

  "Take it easy," the leader said. He was young. Maybe twenty-five. "We're not here to kill you. Just here to send a message. Just cooperate and it'll end after a few minutes."

  Li Qinghua didn't turn around.

  "These blades," she said quietly, "were forged during the Song Dynasty. A master smith in Longquan made them for a general who never got to use them. He died before they were finished."

  The laughing stopped, and the men suddenly had a bad feeling as she continued to speak.

  "His daughter took them instead. She carried them for sixty years. Through two wars. Three emperors. When she died, they passed to her student. And then to his. And then to hers."

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  She reached up. Her fingers touched the handles.

  "Twelve generations. Each one chose the next. Each one carried them until they couldn't anymore."

  The courtyard had gone very silent, as if the idea of her being an ordinary old woman started to hang a peculiar thought in their mind.

  "And now they hang here in this little medicine shop in San Francisco," she put her hand on each handle.

  She turned her head. Just slightly. Enough to see them from the corner of her eye.

  "Jianghu."

  The men all flinched, as if the thought started to become more real.

  The leader's smile faltered. The men behind him shifted, hands moving toward weapons.

  "There is a saying you should beware of three things. Old men, women, and children."

  "Enough talk." The leader's voice had an edge now. "Get her."

  Li Qinghua drew.

  The long crescent goose-feather sabre slipped into her hand, and a man lost his right before he had the chance to draw. The blade arced back, revealing a glistening pattern on the blade. A light character marked the name, with a short inscription for the blacksmith who made it.

  "Sun."

  A second saber slipped into her other hand, a darker inscription marked that one, its tassel spiraling out a longer blue instead of gold.

  "Moon."

  They spun in her hand effortlessly as if a blur.

  "It's been a while and I might be rusty so sorry for offending you with my meager skill."

  "Ahhh," yelped the man, clutching his missing hand.

  Li Qinghua stood in the center; blades held loose at her sides. The remaining men stared. The mockery was gone from their faces.

  "In the end," she said, pausing to remember the past.

  She could still see the temples in the mountains. The clouds that would settle low in the morning and drift off by noon. Her brother standing among the masters at the annual gathering, trying to look serious and failing because someone had just told him a joke. Even the worst of them back then had something. Some code. Some idea of what they were supposed to be.

  Back then even the dregs of the world aspired to be great. All the schools together, banners flying. Is this all that remains? Just thugs and thieves. The lowest of the generation before them?

  "In the end, only you rats survived. Anyone with any bit of courage have all passed away."

  She could hear more of them coming. It would be a long night.

  The rest came at her driven by fear or anger. It was hard to tell at her age. Numbers were good, but that's only if someone didn't know how to deal with them.

  Li Qinghua moved, parrying and ducking as the blows came. As long as one was in front of her two couldn't be. As long as one was to her right, four couldn't be. Attack the weakest first, and then the strongest. Keep them guessing but be swift.

  The swords flashed as fast as lightning. When she was younger, they were faster still, yet even in her twilight years they were more than enough to keep up with this newest generation.

  Their footwork was a mess; their focus was dim at best. The slightest misdirection could send them off to the side. A feint, and this one couldn't tell which blade was real or which was the fake. A blue tassel simply covered his vision for a moment, and a cut on his thigh sent him to the ground.

  Forty years ago, this would have been nothing.

  She flicked the blood from her sabers. The motion was done so naturally most wouldn't have even noticed. Dried blood dulled the edge.

  In less than fifteen seconds, twelve men had been reduced to two. The more cautious ones had already left, maybe to get others. The leader stood there, assessing the situation. She had shown overwhelming skill, but he still hadn't left which meant he probably had one or two more tricks up his sleeve.

  The landline was back at the front counter, if she could eliminate these two. She could call the police. There might have to be some explaining to do, but it'd be better than waiting for their reinforcements.

  Then the air shifted behind her.

  Li Qinghua spun, blades coming up, and caught the strike half a second before it would have cut her neck.

  Fox mask. Dark clothes. Straight sword. A girl's figure. The fox leaped behind her almost locking eyes. This one was better than the rest. Were they just waiting till this one got here?

  Li Qinghua's hand shook, and she looked down.

  An unnatural and unmistakable vibration shook the sun blade where it had struck. Qi. This one was dangerous. The girl signaled to the other two.

  "Get my father. Something is wrong. I'll deal with her."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Li Qinghua narrowed her eyes. So, she was the one actually in charge. She readied herself and prepared as the girl came again. The girl's feet touched the ground differently this time, there was a light breeze, and then as if in an instant she covered five feet in two.

  What is this technique?

  Steel rang against steel three times before Li Qinghua had fully registered the exchange. Fast. No, this was something even greater than speed. Skill that blurred the line between reality and fiction.

  Her hands tensed. Her blades flew in quick succession, blocking all attacks. Don't get confused. The key is the transition. The qi behind the girl's sword hummed through the sun saber with every exchange, a vibration that wanted to shake the weapon loose from her grip.

  Several flashes and straight sword came at Li Qinghua through her guard, trying to take one of her hands off her saber. She let it. Redirected instead of resisting, her wrist flipping over like the flutter of a butterfly's wing and her counter opened a line across the girl's forearm before either of them had taken a breath.

  Work from a higher angle. She's stronger. Fight her power with flexibility. The saber left a mark on her mask but the girl didn't pause. Came again with a combination that would have overwhelmed anyone slower, blades flying through angles that covered retreat and advance alike.

  But speed had always been her forte. Li Qinghua moved through them as deftly as a dove, turning what she couldn't block, slipping what she couldn't turn. The moon saber answered twice and found cloth both times, sleeve and shoulder, the girl twisting away before the cuts could deepen.

  Pine. Under the sweat and steel, under the copper smell of blood already in the air. Pine, and something floral beneath it. Li Qinghua knew that smell. It can't be possible. Everyone from the temple is dead. How can she have that smell?

  The girl's thrust came for her chest. Li Qinghua guided it past her ribs with the sun saber and stepped inside, close enough to see the grain of the fox mask, the slight wear at its edges.

  Her footwork was impeccable, but looking closely it resembled another art so very clearly. That…was that Kongtong's Ghost Step?

  Her moon saber came up for the throat. Ghost Step was made for mountain passes. The higher the skill, the wider the distance. She needed to narrow the range. The girl dropped under it and rolled away. Good instincts. Someone had trained those instincts well.

  The fight edged closer to the front of the shop. As they fought, Li Qinghua had begun to notice small things. This girl had practiced her swordplay to perfection. But when you practice the same things over and over, it becomes too easy to read. If every move is deadly, none are.

  As for her movements. Kongtong's Ghost Step worked on creating space where there is none but the footwork loses its splendor if the calculations become too complicated.

  She knocked a shelf with her elbow. Jars tipped, glass scattered across the tile. The girl's feet hesitated for half a step on the uneven ground. Good. More of that. An empty glass came at the girl's face, and before she could strike back, Li Qinghua had pinned her sword with both sabers.

  She could try to get it free but it'd leave her arm open. But instead of backing away. The girl struck the base of her sword sending it nearly flying at Li Qinghua, and then struck directly with her fingers, targeting her shoulder.

  The attack was so sudden, Li Qinghua could hardly defend herself before it was completed. In the end, I am the one who got overconfident?

  Li Qinghua felt her blood roll and dropped one saber to the ground. This is true qi. Don't panic. Remember what her brother had said when qi would return. Use your training. Solidify, redirect, and attack back. The point of release is right above the spine.

  Li Qinghua pressed her thumb on her back, unblocking her meridian from the inside. The girl almost looked pleased with herself, before realizing it too late. Li Qinghua's open hand became a single finger that struck her right back in the yin meridian above her chest. The girl's own qi had followed straight from Li Qinghua's shoulder back to her finger. Her attack was now Li Qinghua's attack.

  The point gave and the girl's knees hit the tile. Her whole body followed, one hand still reaching for the sword on the floor, the other open from where she'd struck Li Qinghua's shoulder a half second too late.

  Li Qinghua could almost see the shock in her face.

  Yes, that was the trouble with pressure points. You could return them to the user if you weren't careful enough. That look on her face probably meant she never faced anyone skilled enough to try.

  Her own shoulder had gone cold. Li Qinghua could feel the numbness spreading past her elbow, pooling at the wrist, but it sat on the surface.

  To remove the pressure, target the meridian points directly in sequence.

  Her thumb and finger pressed the elbow, then the forearm, then the wrist. Chize. Kongzui. Lieque. Each point released the other like locks in a gate, and then it was as if the move had never happened.

  Good. Now to call the police.

  Li Qinghua picked up her saber from the floor and looked down, wondering if she should ask questions. The smell of pine trees. Could it really be that some of them survived?

  Then a silly boy's face came to her mind. Still, those questions would have to wait. She needed to solve this before Daniel came over. Li Qinghua moved towards the landline, before another presence appeared in the open door.

  "I would have never believed it was you," said Li Wentao, standing in the door. His eyes looked ferocious under the afternoon light. "To think the Little Phoenix of Wudang is still alive. Truly, it is a wonder."

  Li Qinghua looked at him as if staring at a ghost.

  "You…that face?"

  His face. The way he stood with his weight slightly forward. She had seen that face before. Thirty years younger, standing in the main courtyard of the Wudang Temple, laughing at something her brother had said.

  "Li Changfeng?" she said quietly. "No, it can't be. Li Changfeng died a long time ago. Along with everyone else."

  Something moved behind Li Wentao's eyes at the name. Then it was gone.

  "He survived," he said. "But he was killed when he tried to return to the main temple a few years later." He stepped into the shop. Glass crunched under his shoes. "Rats? Yes, that's a pretty fitting word for them."

  "My father believed in a world that got him killed. I believe in the one that's coming. Li Qinghua. Where is your brother's sword. The True Yang sword? The sword of the last Grandmaster of Wudang?"

  Li Qinghua adjusted her grip on the sun and moon sabers.

  "Even if I knew. I can't tell you. If your father told you about Wudang. You should know that sword cannot be passed onto anyone but the Sect Leader of Wudang themselves."

  "I am Wudang now," muttered Li Wentao, revealing a sword from his side.

  "That sword….so you killed them too."

  Li Wentao's expression didn't change.

  He drew.

  Li Qinghua raised the sun and moon sabers. The gold and blue tassels swayed once, catching the last of the afternoon light.

  And then the light went out.