A day later, Wu Hao was standing in the middle of his group again, waiting for Father to speak. As he'd said he would, 726 had reported him to the Uncle who did cultivation guidance, but that Uncle's punishments were light, anyway. All it meant was that he'd have to wait fifteen minutes longer than the others for Uncle's permission to relax.

  That had been torture in its own way, but it wasn't torture the way that the other Uncles would hurt him. There had been no beatings and no strange substances to ingest. Whatever else he could say about that Uncle was that he had no taste for cruelty for cruelty's sake.

  Really, he'd gotten off fairly light, compared to stumbling in the middle of the march. Looking back, that first stumble might have sent him straight down the path to death even if he hadn't tried to talk to Father. It was easy to look back and say that now, even though he still didn't have a clue why.

  Father, having apparently judged that they'd all waited long enough, walked forward and began to speak.

  "Tomorrow we join the Alliance in their war on the Heavenly Demon Cult," Father announced. Again, his voice was loud and theatrical. These were the exact words he'd used last time, two deaths ago. "Tomorrow, we of the Red Dawn Sect will show the world just a mere fraction of our hidden strength. We will show the world that we are not to be trifled with."

  He waited for a reaction, and there was none. Wu Hao had resolved to keep his mouth shut. He'd realized there was little point in speaking up - it wasn't like Father would listen without any proof, and as of now he had none. A part of his mind whispered that Father might not listen even then.

  "Tomorrow, we show not just the Demon Cult our strength, but the world! By our actions, we will show that attempting to forbid the ancient custom of deathsworn was nothing but foolishness, a law followed only by those too weak to see past the comforting illusions of life! We show the world that our Red Dawn Sect will do whatever it takes - whatever we must - to see the next dawn! For no matter how dark, night must end when the sun rises once more!"

  "The dawn rises eternal!" the Uncles chanted, followed immediately by the sound of what had to be hundreds of boys repeating: "The dawn rises eternal!"

  Wu Hao chorused along, too. It was how they'd been trained, and deviating from what the others were doing would result in more punishment, probably something less bearable.

  More waiting - no reaction. Wu Hao felt cold, and if he'd felt anything at the speech earlier he honestly couldn't remember. A vague trepidation at the thought of dying again, maybe, the same way he felt now.

  "One hour from now," Father said, "we begin our march towards the battlefield. Once there, you will advance towards the position your leader indicates. Regardless of the enemy forces present there, you will fulfill your mission, or you will die trying. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes, Father!" they all chorused as one.

  Wu Hao honestly didn't really understand, even as he mouthed the words the same as everyone else around him. A cold dread had started filling his belly from the moment Father had begun to speak. It wasn't the threat of imminent death, though, because he knew that better than he knew anything except himself. He couldn't put words to why, but he felt a different kind of dread, clear as day.

  "Good. Spare nothing in attempting to win tomorrow. I shall be near, though you shall not see me. I have my own part to play tomorrow - I shall guard the camp here and make sure that we have a base to fall back to."

  A part of Wu Hao wondered if the older man actually meant that. Another part of him protested that Father was obviously right, as he always was, but he was getting better at tuning that part of himself out. Little by little, the blanket of unthinking loyalty that had been wrapped around his brain seemed to be getting lighter.

  Not gone yet, but lighter.

  "However, the Uncles shall be with you," Father said. Wu Hao knew it already. He remembered one of the Uncles having been there before at some times, though not at the moment where they'd been mowed down. "Each of the Uncles will command one of the three groups. The three of them will call out a group of numbers. You will obey them as you obey me, in all things, unquestioningly, unless one of my orders supersedes theirs."

  He regarded the group seriously.

  "This is the moment where we show the world that they were foolish to reject me," Father promised. "My methods shall finally be recognized. From here on out, we shall take wing and soar to the top of the martial world. But all of that is based on your performance tomorrow. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, Father!"

  "Good. That is all. Glory to the Red Dawn!"

  "The dawn shall rise eternal!" they all chanted again, and then Father turned and walked away at a languid pace, his robes swishing behind him as he made his way back into the command tent.

  A moment later, the Uncles began to call out sets of numbers.

  "601 to 685," the Uncle who was in charge of the medicinal tents shouted. Liu Xijing, if Wu Hao recalled his name correctly. "With me!"

  The others folded their arms and watched Uncle Liu call out those who belonged with him. They didn't seem surprised and neither did they react at all, so presumably they had settled who would be taking who earlier.

  Wu Hao hadn't paid much attention last time, but even so he wasn't all that surprised when Uncle Bai called out his name. It was him who had tested Wu Hao a death ago, and it was him who'd always carried the wine flask with him everywhere. This time, too, he'd taken out the flask for a quick swig before calling out that 710 until 763 were to follow him. He was rubbing his bald spot as he walked, with something about the motion reminding Wu Hao of how people would rub statues of the Buddha for luck.

  That left the cultivation Uncle alone, the only one whose name Wu Hao didn't know yet. Wu Hao didn't spend much time on that thought before his group walked off to follow Uncle Bai to a separate little field. He hadn't known any of the Uncles' names for ages already; not knowing anything else about them wouldn't kill him.

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  Wu Hao craned his neck and looked around. It had been hard to tell how many deathsworn there had been at the first speech, and even now he was uncertain. For this group, though, he thought there were about thirty of them in total. If each of the groups were equally large, that would mean maybe ninety people in total, and he hadn't seen the honor guard around. Which made them about a hundred people in total? That number seemed possible.

  How many of them had there been before the trials, then? At least twice this many, if not three times or more. Beyond that, Wu Hao didn't know.

  A crowd had already formed, with the Brothers standing in front. It was to them that Uncle Bai talked, issued missions, and gave equipment, if they were given any at all.

  A few groups were being sent out piecemeal - deathsworn with numbers that Wu Hao hadn't heard of before. Although maybe he just hadn't cared, then. He still didn't, but he made a note nonetheless.

  "Alright," Uncle Bai called, after taking another quick swig of his drink. His beady eyes swivelled towards 726. "Listen up, you shits. Your group's going to be taking a hill tomorrow. There's going to be people there. Kill them before they kill you. Don't show any mercy, because no mercy will be shown to you. Not by the enemy and not by us, either. Anyone who breaks from the ranks will get executed by me personally."

  He stared around the group of young men.

  "Is that clear?" he asked.

  It wasn't. Where would Uncle Bai himself be? Watching, apparently, but not getting involved, it sounded like. An idiot might have called that cowardice, but Wu Hao wished he was able to sit the battle out like that.

  "Yes, Uncle," they all echoed. In response, Uncle Bai grunted.

  "Whatever," he muttered, then waved a hand. "Go."

  They went, streaming away from the field into a long line of two by two. Wu Hao stepped shoulder to shoulder with 732, who was a little taller and lankier than him. Together they pushed forward at a pace that wasn't quite a walk but wasn't a run, either.

  None of them spoke a word. If any of them had the same doubts that Wu Hao did, they didn't show it, and their footsteps propelled them unhesitatingly forwards in a silent procession. None of them showed any nervousness, either.

  And still that heavy weight of dread was hollowing out his stomach.

  As they walked, dawn broke. Part of him wanted to think Father had arranged it that way, reinforcing in their minds that they were part of the Red Dawn sect, fighting to protect the sun as it rose, but another part knew that it might have been nothing but simple coincidence.

  Some time later - it was hard to say how long - they arrived at another, loosely-arranged camp which had been set up in the valley between two hills. Several different sects had been arranged there into a loose coalition of the lesser unorthodox sects.

  He saw, in the distance, a large caravan had been set up composed of several wagons. Each had been decorated with lanterns hanging from the sides, and with an elegant red carpet covering the steps up to the carriages. A painted wing stretched across each of the carriages, meaning they belonged to the Peng clan.

  Over by the side, several men of the Jin clan were talking in low voices about something as they polished their sabers. They wore clothing distinct mostly by its value. One of them was wearing a deep purple robe, while another had hair red like fire and earrings that glinted in the morning sun. They stopped and stared as the deathsworn walked by, before breaking out in murmured discussion.

  "Oi," one of them called. He was neither the man in the purple nor the red-haired man; he was their companion and maybe their leader, with black hair that had been combed back and tied into a ponytail. He wore his saber unsheathed over his shoulder and the Jin clan emblem - two sabers crossed - with two stripes of gold just above his heart. Presumably that meant something, though Wu Hao didn't know what.

  None of the deathsworn stopped, or even spared the men a glance. Wu Hao considered it for a moment, but in the end he didn't. No need to stand out, he figured.

  "Oi!" the man called again. "What sect're you from?"

  One of the Brothers turned. 748, by his dogtag, that Wu Hao could only barely make out. As he turned he made a covert hand signal that saw the rest of them turn, too, staring like one man at the Jin clan member who'd spoken.

  "We are of the Red Dawn," 748 said, voice perfectly even. "We have a mission. Do not stop us from accomplishing it."

  "Haven't heard of you before," the man said, leaning forward and looking rather unworried. "And using deathsworn too, huh?"

  "We have a mission," 748 repeated. "Do not -"

  "Stop us," the man repeated. "Fine, fine. I got it, kid. Have fun out there."

  The man in purple snickered at this, while the other rolled his eyes.

  748 turned back, then started marching again through the camp. The rest of them followed, staring forward again, each step falling in unison as they did.

  As they walked away, Wu Hao heard the man who'd snickered earlier speak again. He made no effort to hide his voice - in fact, it seemed like he was deliberately making sure he was being heard by the deathsworn.

  "How many of them are returning from their mission, d'you think?" he asked.

  The red-haired man spoke, his voice surprisingly deep and calm.

  "A third, maybe," he said contemplatively. "They're deathsworn. Dying in great numbers is usually their main talent, so far as I've heard."

  Wu Hao nearly paused his steps, then continued quickly before anyone could make a fuss about it.

  Dying in great numbers, huh? That would have been surprisingly accurate, last time.

  This time, things would be different.