It was the ninth day of the fourth month, the day of the mountain sweep.
The sky was just beginning to lighten as the disciples of the Water Mirror Department gathered on the training grounds, speaking in low voices.
"Senior Brother Liao, have you ever drawn blood?"
"Does killing two mutated beasts count?"
"Doesn't count. Have you killed a person?"
"No, I haven't..."
When Zhao Lin arrived, the disciples were discussing whether or not their hands had been bloodied.
Most had only ever killed mutated beasts. Only Guo Enze had killed a man—a fugitive—last year while visiting family and assisting a constable with a case.
Seeing Zhao Lin walk over, Zhang Xiaoshan inquired, "Junior Brother Zhao, have you ever killed anyone?"
Zhao Lin silently did the math. The number of bandits who had died by his hand was at least eighty, if not a hundred. The figure startled even him.
But bandits didn't count as people, so he answered, "No, I haven't killed a single 'person'."
"Me neither."
