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"Lord Fei, the spear is right there—you don't need to keep staring at it. The more you focus on the spearhead, the worse you'll wield it," Ma Yan said. Though usually deferential to Fei Qian, he was unyielding when it came to serious matters.
Huang Cheng, a swordsman, knew some spear techniques but paled in comparison to Ma Yan, a true master.
As the saying goes: a month for the saber, a year for the staff, a lifetime for the spear. Mastering the spear was no easy feat.
The spear used by an individual on the battlefield and the spearwork of a common soldier were entirely different concepts, belonging to separate systems.
Longspear infantry were the choice of most, as Fei Qian found when recruiting—most of his men were spearmen. Why? They were the cheapest to equip.
One iron spearhead, one iron nail, one wooden shaft—that's a spearman. Fei Qian was generous, providing his men with layered armor, while most commanders skipped armor to save costs.
Those sturdy enough to carry a shield, with enough courage, could become sword-and-shield soldiers, clad in armor, wielding blade and shield as fierce frontline fighters.
Only those without night blindness or nearsightedness, with decent arm strength, could train as archers or crossbowmen.
And only those with balanced builds—not too tall, short, fat, or thin, but agile—were chosen as cavalry reserves for mounted training.
Thus, in a sense, longspear infantry were the lowest tier, the cheapest.
Training a spearman was simple, but mastering the spear was not.
Fei Qian had practiced his spear thrust for nearly a year, but to Ma Yan, it was nothing.
Too crude. As Ma Yan put it, even with mastery, Fei Qian would only be a proficient spearman, not a true spear user, let alone one who "knew" the spear.
Though Ma Yan favored a fierce style, he could still guide Fei Qian. The Ma family spear, while powerful, had subtle variations.
"Wenyuan's teaching of the neutral thrust isn't wrong, but he didn't explain its variations—hardly put in much effort…" Ma Yan remarked.
"Brother Chengyuan, you know Wenyuan?" Fei Qian asked, surprised.
Ma Yan nodded. "I met him when he traveled through Beidi years ago…"
Just "met"?
No sparring or exchange?
Fei Qian was skeptical but could guess the rest—had they fought, who won, or was it a draw?
"By the way, Brother Chengyuan, do you know of a spear master named Tong in Beidi, near Changshan?"
"Tong? Changshan?" Ma Yan looked puzzled. "Where'd you hear that, my lord? I've been in Beidi for years and never heard of a spear master named Tong… There's a family in Changshan skilled with spears, but they're surnamed Zhao, not Tong… Actually, the Zhao family's spear style would suit you well…"
No Tong family spear master?!
Ma Yan had no reason to lie, meaning Beidi truly lacked a Tong Yuan. So where was he?
Or, further, did Tong Yuan even exist?
If not, where did Zhao Yun's spear skills come from?
And what about Zhao Yun and Zhang Xiu's connection?
This was a tangle of confusion, leaving Fei Qian dazed…
"Lord Fei, think of the spear as a brush writing characters. The spearhead is the brush tip. Train until it moves as an extension of your arm, freely, instinctively. Only by knowing the spear's nature can you advance. Rest now…" Ma Yan instructed.
Fei Qian exhaled heavily. Writing characters in the sand with the spearhead was harder than practicing thrusts. Holding the spear, his wrist demanded precise control—any slight error ruined the character, forcing him to smooth the sand with the spearhead and start over…
As Fei Qian moved to set the spear down to rest his wrist, Ma Yan stopped him. "The harder it is, the more you'll remember the spear's weight and length. Rest one hand at a time, but keep the spear in hand."
Fine…
To distract Fei Qian, Ma Yan asked, "Why train with the spear, my lord? It's easy at first but hard to master, unlike the simpler saber or staff."
"Hah, I didn't think much of it then…" Fei Qian recounted drinking at Lü Bu's home, then asked, "So, Brother Chengyuan, you must know Marquis Wen?"
"Never met, but I've heard of him…" Ma Yan paused, glancing at Fei Qian with intent. "Marquis Wen's fame among the Hu in Beidi is immense…"
Immense fame?
What did that mean?
Lü Bu's reputation among the Hu wasn't one of warmth or kindness but a fearsome name carved in blood…
What was Ma Yan implying?
Recalling Ma Yan's recent actions, Fei Qian's mind stirred. "Brother Chengyuan, do you think my approach to the Hu is improper? Too… lenient?"
Ma Yan's retreat from Shangjun to Anyi was largely due to Hu invasions. To him, in modern terms, only dead Hu were good Hu…
Caught off guard by Fei Qian's perceptiveness, Ma Yan paused, then nodded.
Fei Qian pondered how to explain this clearly without citing classics Ma Yan wouldn't care for. "Brother Chengyuan, are the enemies of our enemies good or bad? Are the Hu one person or many? Do they have conflicts among themselves?"
"This…" Ma Yan frowned, never having considered this.
"And another key point…" Fei Qian smiled. "We're poor now. If we don't seize this chance to earn more, we won't have funds when the fighting starts. Besides, I've been thinking—why do we lose money fighting the Hu, even when we win?"