The clang of steel echoed through the courtyard of Mount Hwa. The morning air was crisp, scented with pine and the faint hint of sweat from the disciples who had risen before the sun to train. Among them, I stood—a figure too large for the robes of a disciple, my presence towering over my fellow brothers like an ancient pine among saplings.
I am Baek Hwachan. The name was given to me by my master, a play on my stature and the teachings of our sect. 'Hwa' for the blossoms of Mount Hwa, and 'Chan'—meaning giant, or so they said. A name that carried both expectation and contradiction. A giant blossom. An absurdity.
Sweat trickled down my brow as I adjusted my grip on the sword in my hands. Unlike the slender blades favored by my brothers, mine was massive—a weapon that would break another man's arms if he dared wield it. It suited me. It had to.
"Again!" The voice of Elder Sun rang across the courtyard.
With a deep breath, I stepped forward, raising my sword. The weight of it was familiar, the arc of my swing precise despite its size. It was not grace that guided my strikes, nor the light-footedness of our sect's teachings, but something heavier—something I had yet to master.
The other disciples spared me glances between their own routines. Some with admiration, others with wariness. In a sect that valued speed and technique, I was an anomaly. A brute amongst artists. It was not a place where strength alone could thrive, and I had learned this through bruises and reprimands.
A sharp pang jolted through my arms as Elder Sun's wooden staff struck against my sword. I barely caught the movement before it connected, the impact rattling my bones.
"Too slow," he said, stepping back. His gaze was sharp, unyielding. "You rely too much on power. Again."
Gritting my teeth, I reset my stance. Again. Always again.
By the time the sun had fully risen, my body ached. But pain was a familiar companion, as was the silent weight of expectation. I had chosen to walk this path, not because it welcomed me, but because I refused to be unworthy of the name given to me.
As I sheathed my sword and turned toward the temple halls, I felt the whispers behind me. Some murmured of my progress, others questioned if a man of my size could truly follow the way of Mount Hwa.
I clenched my fists, feeling the calluses that had formed over years of training.
A giant blossom, they called me.
One day, I would make them understand what that meant.