Father wasn't listening.

  That was the main thought Wu Hao had, when he realized that he was once more back in the past. This time he hadn't been sent back right in the middle of sleeping or marching, but nonetheless he stumbled a little and touched his chest before he came to his senses.

  He was standing on his feet again. Looking around quickly to see if anyone had noticed his outburst, he noticed a few stares thrown his way, but otherwise they were all standing around at the start of a path that led up the mountain.

  The long chain of black-clad youth was already starting to form as the first few groups disappeared up the mountain, most of them carrying the heavier material of Father's tent, or the alchemical materials, or things like that. The honor guard travelled together with Father, who would travel squarely in the middle of their little pack.

  All that meant he was back in the past again.

  Well, that - and, of course, the new window that had popped up in front of his eyes.

  He studied it properly, this time around. It floated in the air, unsupported by anything. It moved when he did, like an illusion tailored specifically to him. No one would bother tailoring an illusion to a single deathsworn, though, would they?

  Although... Was it actually true that he was the only one continually reviving like this? Perhaps one of the other deathsworn was, too. Perhaps all of the deathsworn were. If all of them were still in that haze that suppressed thought and just kept believing in the orders that Father gave, would it make a difference for them if they lived or died? Even if they lived or died repeatedly?

  It was hard to say for sure, but he knew that getting anything out of them would be close to impossible and even trying would probably see him judged defective again.

  Besides...

  Whatever was happening to him was impossible. He knew that much. It was impossible to truly resurrect the dead or to turn back time; otherwise there would have been stories of Sovereigns doing that sort of thing, and he'd never heard any of them being able to do so.

  But that was what was happening. Whatever was allowing him to be here, in this moment, thinking these thoughts, hadn't just allowed him to come back to life, but kept giving him second chance after second chance.

  And it was making him stronger, too. In small ways so far, but even the idea that it was possible to gain talent seemed utterly heaven-defying. Talent was set at birth, he thought. Apparently that wasn't quite true. What else was Father wrong about? But then again that part of his brain forced him to add: maybe Father did know the truth, and he just wasn't telling them that, for reasons only Father should be trusted to know.

  He moved away from that mental track and instead thought about something more productive. Was there a way to use this? He could try to die in specific ways, but that was an idea he shied away from for the obvious reason that dying was far from pleasant, and it wasn't getting any more pleasant. At best it was painless, at worst it was horribly painful.

  No - he would try his best to not die, in the near future. In terms of pure, cold logic, he was beginning to realize that death wasn't the end that it had been said to be.

  The problem was, he wasn't a purely logical being. Dying hurt, and he'd keep trying to avoid it if he could help it.

  His gaze shifted to the others in his little group. There was 726, of course, the Brother in charge of them, but he and Wu Hao weren't the only ones in the group.

  There was 720, the most average of them, with stubborn stubble growing on his upper lip that he couldn't seem to get rid of. There was 723, whose voice had cracked last of the group and whose voice was now so low that he sounded like a man twice his age.

  729 was a loner even for the deathsworn, volunteering for night duties as often as he could, and with a voice that saw so little use Wu Hao hadn't heard him speak in almost a year now. A scar ran up the side of his lips that, in the right light, made him look like he was grinning, though he wasn't.

  There was 732, who had always seemed vaguely odd to him. It was impossible to say why or how - memories of the before time had been one of the first things to go during the deathsworn conversion process - but he nonetheless couldn't escape that feeling that there was something about 732 that set him apart from the others.

  He spared a quick thought for those not present, as well. 724 and 725 had died, one dying during early cultivation guidance and the other simply having died in the darkness when he had been punished for making a mistake during a lesson. He didn't even remember which had been which. 727 had once been taken away for a test, and never returned. The others were a blank in his mind. There had been a great deal of death.

  Would all of them have names, the way Wu Hao still thought of himself as Wu Hao and not as 721? The name Wu Hao was one of the few things he remembered from the past. Parents. Where he had grown up, how old he was - those were all lost to the darkness and the cold and the beatings, but ‘Wu Hao’ he still remembered as clear as day.

  Wu Hao opened his mouth, watching the others shift around as they all waited for 726 to command them to start. None of them looked back at him.

  "Hey," he finally said, before he could think more about what he was doing.

  That got their attention. All their gazes shifted to him, and though they were all expressionless, he could read that they were surprised to have one of the group speak without first being spoken to. None of them cared about rudeness except rudeness to Father, which was punishable by death; it was more that none of them had any desire to speak.

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  "If you were to offer advice to Father," Wu Hao tried hesitantly. "How would you do it?"

  Brows furrowed, 723 spoke in that voice of his that was as deep as a grave. "Father is Father. I cannot advise him. He advises us."

  "But -" Wu Hao said. "If you knew something that Father didn't?"

  There might have been gasps at this, but instead they all stilled like living statues and stared holes into Wu Hao. He didn't shrink back, though.

  "That's impossible," 720 snarled. "Father knows all. Father knows best."

  "I was only - " not thinking, he reminded himself, that's not a good word - "I was only considering the question."

  "Who posed this question?" 726 interrupted.

  "I don't know," Wu Hao said, racking his brains for who he might have heard it from. He couldn't say that he had remembered it or thought of it himself, with independent thought being a sign of defectiveness. "When I went for a toilet break earlier, I heard someone murmur that question."

  There were some uneasy glances at this. There was no loyalty among the deathsworn except to Father, but nonetheless they were all aware of the razor's edge on which they walked. If Father suspected someone of being defective, then usually he wouldn't stop at just investigating the offender.

  Their entire group might be purged. It wouldn't have been the first time.

  "Who was it?" 726 pressed.

  Wu Hao said nothing.

  "You have told no one else about this?" 726 continued. "You didn't confront these others who you heard whisper?"

  When Wu Hao still said nothing, 726 surged forwards and took hold of Wu Hao's clothes, holding him up by the shoulders and hoisting him in the air.

  "Tell me," 726 demanded.

  Wu Hao forced his arm around 726's and started prying at the other boy's fingers, trying to force it down or at least for him to loosen his grip enough that he could get away, but 726's arms were like steel bars. He was reminded uncomfortably of that Honor Guard from - tomorrow? His personal time was a mess.

  "Are you defective too?" 726 snarled, slapping away Wu Hao's fingers with his other hand. Wu Hao pulled his hand back after the first slap, ignoring the sting.

  "I wasn't sure that I heard it correctly," Wu Hao rebutted, feigning calm even as his heart beat in his chest. The Limitless Pulse Art surged to life in response to him feeling threatened, with each beat sounding loud and clear in his ears. He felt no desire to try and fight his entire group, though, so Wu Hao forced himself to let his arms fall to his side again. "Should I bother Father or the Uncles with everything I might hear?"

  Off to the side, 729 might have snickered, or at least grinned slightly. It was hard to tell, but probably he wasn't doing either despite Wu Hao's strong impression that he was.

  "Father has said he does not want to be bothered," he said. "But do so, anyway. It could be good for you."

  That was definitely sarcasm, Wu Hao thought. 729 wasn't allowed any weapons like the rest of them, but nonetheless his tongue could still cut.

  "You see?" Wu Hao told 726. "It would have been against Father's wishes to be bothered."

  "Then why bring it up?" 726 retorted. "Do you wish to be seen as defective?"

  Thinking quickly - and trying to pretend that he wasn't swinging in the air right now, feet inches from the ground and clothes scrunched up in 726's loose grip - Wu Hao blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

  "I was going to investigate further. I brought it up because I was going to ask questions about how to better catch the defectives. You do not encourage this?"

  726 stared at him. Wu Hao stared back, as defiantly as he was able to. The silence stretched on for a moment.

  Up ahead, 732 turned slightly.

  "Our turn," he announced, with his dull eyes running over the group before turning away again in disinterest. "We should go."

  A moment later, 726's fingers unclenched and Wu Hao dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He tried to land on his feet but sprawled onto the ground instead, inflicting a few bruises when his legs thudded into the side of the mountain. None were worth mentioning so Wu Hao scrabbled upright again.

  "This discussion borders on making us sound defective," 726 said coldly. "I will report this to an Uncle at the nearest opportunity."

  And then he sprung up, ignoring the little stairs that had been cut into the rock by nature and pulling himself up by his fingers.

  The others went after him, their order based on who stood closest to the cliff face. 720 was the first, then 732; then the rest. Finally, it was Wu Hao's turn.

  Right, he thought, staring up at the climb he was about to begin. The only way out is through.

  The thought had come out of nowhere, but it had sounded like few thoughts did lately. It sounded like his own mental voice, not Father's. That was one of the signs of being defective, but he kept it to himself anyway and focused on what mattered.

  He was going to have to return to the battlefield. It made no sense to keep dying here, and maybe he might even find a clue there as to what had caused him to relive this life, over and over again.

  Wu Hao took the first step, beginning the hours-long process of arriving at their mountain camp. He couldn't jump the way 726 could, but then 726 was a fully-fledged third-grade martial artist and Wu Hao wasn't.

  Not yet.