This is my very first fan-fiction ever! Please enjoy!

Li Shang ran a hand over his face, exhausted. It had been another long day. Shang had decided to try and train the men using staffs. Ping had apparently recognized the weapon and had either gotten a little over exuberant or had decided to show off his skill. He single-handedly managed to knock every single man down to the ground, even having the gall to whack his General. Shang had momentarily had the breath knocked out of him before he was able to seize the staff from Ping. He had just come back from assigning Ping his disciplinary action; he was to sand down all the staffs and rid them of any dents and marks they had acquired during the day's training.

Looking back, Shang remembered the very first day of training, if you could call it training. His men had gotten into a brawl before he had even gotten a chance to meet them. Well, he had at least gotten to know Ping. That boy's first impression had not been a pretty one to his general. Smaller in build than any other man there, they had all pointed at Ping and blamed him for starting the brawl. In order to prove himself, Ping had put on a very false bravado of manliness, even trying to spit vulgarly. It had taken all of Shang's iron self-control not to burst out laughing at the ridiculous show. Instead he had ordered that their first day of training be spent picking up every single grain of rice that had been spilt in their petty fight. Shang had sat outside his tent, carefully sharpening his sword to a razor edge, and watched as the men scrambled about on their hands and knees with baskets, searching the dirt and grass for rice. He had noted those men who acted bitterly and those who took it in stride; he had kept a very close eye on Ping and his reactions.

Ping had humbly accepted the punishment and had worked twice as fast with his small, nimble fingers but the other men had taken their revenge in small ways. They would trip the boy as he stood to run his basket to where the rice was all being gathered. If he came too close to one of the men he would get an elbow in the ribs or a cuff over the head. One gangly, young man named Ling had a nasty habit of subtly tipping Ping's basket of rice so the grains would spill back onto the ground and give Ping more work.

Shang had decided that he would not put up with that sort of bullying in his camp and he hadn't. He smiled to remember the almost impossible task he had come up with for the second day. To reach an arrow at the top of a 40 foot post carrying two weights. Shang rolled over in his tent, chuckling as he remembered the many failed attempts on that day and the ensuing annoyance that they had all felt, making them comrades against a common enemy. An arrow in a post.