The Wandering Samurai and his Beloved General (BL)

As a general, Lanling was, of course, busy, leaving Haruki with a rare moment of solitude to organize his thoughts in Lanling's tent that afternoon. He still couldn't fully understand how events had unfolded to bring him to this point, nor could he grasp why the general behaved as he did.

Yet, as if his analytical skills had finally returned to humor him, Haruki uncovered something astonishing—the general knew him.

There was a familiarity in Lanling's eyes, one he didn't seem to bother hiding. The earlier atmosphere felt unmistakably like a reunion between two friends who hadn't seen each other in years.

Haruki tried again to pry open the empty part of his memories, but it was futile. It felt like reaching into a void—no matter how hard he stretched his hands, they always came back empty.

For now, there was nothing he could do but wait for an opportunity to talk to the general and unravel the mystery.

There was a stark difference in how Haruki was treated as a soldier versus as the general's friend.

As a soldier, Haruki had to endure harsh conditions wherever he went, often crowding into shared spaces and eating whatever scraps were available. There was a strict curfew, mandatory tasks that spared no one, and grueling training that either stunted a soldier's growth or pushed them to unlock their full potential.

As the general's friend, however, Haruki's life underwent a remarkable change. His new quarters were naturally located next to Lanling's, and he had the luxury of privacy. He received clean, fresh clothes and gained the privilege of choosing his meals. While the others treated him with newfound respect, Haruki's approachable personality quickly softened their formalities. Their exaggerated politeness rarely lasted more than a few minutes before they resumed joking with him and treating him like one of their own.

In the training grounds, Haruki was paired with Verdan. Together, they worked to help Haruki master the ability to harness the wind at will, rather than relying on instinct or chance. He concentrated on internalizing the sensation of summoning the wind and embedding its effects into his heart. While a few hours of practice weren't enough to develop muscle memory, Haruki still succeeded in replicating the incredible speed he'd demonstrated the previous day, earning awe-struck reactions from onlookers.

Haruki had begun to gather fans, but with admiration also came those who harbored ill intentions toward him.

Stepping forward from a group of grim-faced soldiers, a slender man with long dark red hair approached Haruki's group. They were so engrossed in watching the progress of Haruki's abilities that they failed to notice the newcomer's arrival.

The red-haired man, however, was visibly offended at being ignored.

"Haruki, was it? How about a mock battle? If I win, you'll serve me for the rest of our time here," he said, his voice dripping with challenge.

The group finally turned their attention to him, and the moment they saw his face, they all exchanged knowing looks and shook their heads.

"Xuzhan, are you bored? Can't you see we're busy working here? Why don't you find someone else to bother?" Verdan retorted without a shred of restraint.

"He has time to entertain himself? His hunting quota for this week isn't even finished. I don't want to eat potatoes for dinner again, ah!" chimed in another soldier, clearly unafraid of speaking his mind.

"Careful," another quipped with a laugh. "His father might hire some of our brothers to rough us up again, just like last time!"

Xuzhan's face turned an even deeper shade of green with every mocking sentence thrown his way. In a desperate attempt to maintain his composure, he turned to Haruki with a forced frown. "Not taking the challenge? And you call yourself a man?"

Haruki only needed to hear a few of his friends' jabs to understand exactly what kind of person Xuzhan was. "I am a man," he began, his tone calm and measured, "and that's precisely why I don't have time to play with you. If you were favored by an element, you'd probably understand."

Though Haruki's expression held no malice, his words struck deeper than any of his friends' taunts.

Xuzhan snapped. With a shout of frustration, he unsheathed his sword and lunged at Haruki.

The surrounding soldiers quickly stepped back, forming a loose circle to give them space. Even the lone instructor on the field paused his activities to observe the unfolding fight. He made no move to intervene; instead, he tilted his head toward a nearby soldier and muttered a few words.

By the time that soldier returned with two clerics in tow, the fight had spilled across the entire field. Meanwhile, the other soldiers were enthusiastically placing bets on who would be the first to yield.

Haruki had learned much from sparring with Lanling the day before, but it still wasn't enough to put him on par with a typical soldier. After only a few clashes with Xuzhan, his body was marred with cuts, and parts of his clothes were torn. Despite this, his face showed no hint of defeat, and anyone watching could see he was steadily improving—anyone, that is, except Xuzhan.

Xuzhan was intoxicated with the thrill of victory, growing more confident with every wound he inflicted on Haruki. But his arrogance shattered when a sharp pain erupted in his shoulder, and a powerful kick to his stomach sent him sprawling to the ground. Clutching his stomach as blood trickled from a clean cut on his shoulder, Xuzhan looked up in disbelief.

"You—you actually dare!" he roared, flicking his sword. In an instant, the iron sabre burst into flames, and the spectators' cheers died out, replaced by grim silence.

Verdan instinctively stepped forward, but a firm hand stopped him. It was the instructor.

Verdan clenched his fists, feeling deeply aggrieved for his friend. The situation had turned dangerous, yet the instructor showed no intention of intervening. He wasn't alone in his frustration; curses rippled through the crowd as soldiers questioned why no one was stopping Xuzhan at this point.

And when some dared to speak up, those around them would quickly silence them, pointing toward the instructor. Since the instructor wasn't taking action, they figured it was best not to complicate matters.

Haruki, though fully aware of the danger, had no knowledge of what Xuzhan's flaming sword was capable of. All he could do was heighten his vigilance.

Xuzhan raised his sabre, the flames roaring forward like a blazing hurricane, threatening to engulf Haruki entirely.

Instinct overpowered thought as Haruki sidestepped at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the attack. He thrust his palm toward Xuzhan, summoning a burst of wind that slammed into his opponent, sending him flying over twenty paces. Xuzhan hit the ground hard, coughing up blood, a clear sign of internal injuries.

Meanwhile, Haruki winced as he clutched his left shoulder, frantically trying to extinguish the fire that had seared his arm.