Savage Divinity

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. I don’t like Central much.

The cities are dirty and disorganized, the people wear too much makeup and too many accessories, and 99% of the time, the landscape is so flat and uniform it’s like you’re stuck in some boring, clone-stamped purgatory, condemned to wander through the endless boring plains of Central for all eternity. I much prefer the vibrant forests, towering mountains, roaring rivers, and rolling hills of the North, its wild, untamed beauty bearing breathtaking vistas around every corner and over every horizon.

Granted, the province isn’t entirely devoid of beauty. Nan Ping’s bay is a breathtaking sight when not cluttered with hundreds of ships, especially at sunrise and sunset. The bamboo groves are also kinda nice, so long as you only look at the oldest growth and ignore the half-grown and recently harvested areas. Then there’s the flower fields, which while few and far between, are an explosion of colour in an otherwise green and blue world. Pink orchids, orange rhododendrons, golden chrysanthemums, and purple lilies, it’s as if Central were trying to balance out its boring colour palette with a smattering of densely packed meadows filled with more flowers than I can even name.

We passed by one such field on our first patrol three days march from Sinuji, and seeing as our route brought us close by, I decided to stop in again. Not solely because of all the pretty flowers, but also because this is a rare defensible location on the plains of Central. Hemmed in by a roaring river the sand-dwelling Defiled refuse to cross, the flower field lies just south of our encampment, which is how the meadow has remained untouched in the previous months of fighting. To our north is a lotus-studded pond, formed by a naturally constructed dam of stone, mud, and dead vegetation which sits directly west of camp, the only ‘dry’ approach the Defiled can take if they want to ford the river and attack us. It’s not often we find a choke-point on the flat fields of Central, so the first time we passed by, I asked Rustram to note it in his report as a place to retreat to in case things go bad.

I also pressed a whole slew of samples to bring back to study, but sadly, the plants growing here are all mundane and have no purpose besides looking nice, making tea, and feeding bees. No meat pies falling from the sky this time.

Previously, I wasn’t sure if anyone read those reports, though now I’m almost positive no one does. It’s been over two months since we last stopped here and I can still see the signs of our last visit. The furrows in the dirt from where we placed our yurts are still there, the trampled field where the horses grazed and slept has yet to fully recover, and the latrines dug by Jorani are still open at the back of camp. Waking with an adorable snort, Mama Bun struggles out of my arms and hops over to the centre of the field where my yurt once stood and greedily chows down on a lone, sprouting flower. It seems she remembers our last time here, when she romped through the meadow with ravenous delight and gorged on the fresh grown delicacies, though if she was aiming for the buffet line, she’s a little off target.

Mama Bun is lucky she’s cute, because she is hella dumb.

Curious and filial as always, Blackjack clambers down from the bunny banner and scampers to Mama Bun’s side, his little nose twitching as he tries to join in on her feast. Sweet Blackjack still sees her as his parent, but Mama Bun is done with raising babies and promptly punts the interloper away from her meal. Heart breaking as the cloud chaser hare screams and tumbles away, I beat Song by a hair and pick him up, nuzzling the poor hare close as he trembles in my hands thanks to Mama Bun’s cold rebuff. Silly little guy, he doesn’t even like veggies and should be on an all-meat diet, but time and time again, I’ve seen him chewing the grass and tubers his bunny siblings love so much just to try and fit in.

Though Taduk and Lin would disagree, I think it’s adorable how Blackjack thinks he’s a bunny. He even headbutts his siblings sometimes, though it never ends well once the bigger bunnies headbutt back. At least Tawny One likes him, though she’s a little... too affectionate, if you know what I mean.

Bicorn bunnies mature much faster than cloud chaser hares.

After confirming all of Blackjack’s fragile bones are intact, I stroke his tiny velvety head and join Song in following Mama Bun around the field, watching the abusive parent enjoy her all-you-can-eat buffet while the quins and turtles go for a swim and my soldiers set camp. Although it feels like I’m shirking my duties, lately, I’ve become more of a figurehead than actual commander. I mean, everyone obeys my commands without question, but they don’t need me barking orders to place tents or form a defensive perimeter. Even Rustram has learned not to micromanage the retinue and instead betrays his inner masochist for all to see, topping off a long day of travel with an intense training session in his weighted armour. People call me crazy, but I’ve seen him run into battle and duel Defiled Champions while wearing his cumbersome training gear, which is just all sorts of wrong.

That said, a modicum of supervision still required since former bandits aren’t exactly known for their discipline. Yimu Junior’s lot in particular presents something of a dilemma, so Wang Bao, Bulat, and Ravil stalk the camp in search of infractions to punish. The latter is no longer so enthusiastic in administering them, and for once, I didn’t have to do anything to fix it. Ravil’s newfound composure is probably thanks to Ciro’s sultry gaze following him about, the ribald beauty watching him at work and not shy about making indelicate jokes at his expense if he oversteps his bounds. Though they’ve always looked out for one another, their protection used to start and end with their little cliques, so it warms my heart to see my retinue taking the newcomers under their wing.

Also, I love it when issues resolve themselves. It gives me time to figuratively and literally stop to smell the flowers.

Having found the chrysanthemums, Mama Bun hunkers down by her favourite treat and I take a seat to wait. No longer interested in tasting flowers, Blackjack climbs my arm to perch on my shoulder, wiggling his cotton tail as he gauges the distance to Song. Bounding over in a single leap, he lands lightly on her shoulder and scoots up her braid, where he nestles between her cat-ears without disturbing a hair, abandoning my comforting nuzzles for Song because she’s a little bit taller.

Okay, like a hand taller, which isn’t too too much. Then again, he never tries to climb Luo-Luo who’s even taller, so maybe he likes Song’s soft tufts of ear fur or her silken hair smells better than my hands. Caught accidentally staring at Song’s emerald green eyes, the tension ramps up until I feel obligated to fill the awkward silence. “No Defiled attack today,” I say, trying to keep things professional. “Which means we’re due for a visit soon enough.” With my luck, it’ll be right as I’m falling asleep.

“Mm.” Responding to my attempt at conversation with a non-committal grunt, Song’s expression remains unchanging and gaze unwavering as we sit in the flowers and lock eyes. We never really talk much, and when we do, it’s usually about tactics, training, or floofs, though it appears she’s not in the mood for tactics today, and recently she falls silent whenever the topic of training comes up. It’s weird. Everything was fine during our first foray on the front lines, but over the break, Mila kept getting drunk and rambling about how I might be making Song uncomfortable, and now I’m uncomfortable because I’m worried I’m making her uncomfortable. There’s nothing to be read from her stoic expression, neither warm and welcoming nor wary and cautious as she once might have been. Instead, she seems consumed by curiosity, her eyes questioning and head tilted as she searches for... something.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t squirm. Not a big fan of intense scrutiny.

Landing in a flutter of feathers, Roc’s arrival frees me from Song’s probing gaze and I greet the bird with a smile. “Hi Roc.” Giggling as the massive bird rolls onto his back and stretches his wings, I gather the fatty into my lap and stroke his chin and belly. “Did you eat too much again?” We still have one more subject of common interest, so there’s no harm in trying to make conversation with Song again. If she was uncomfortable, she’d leave right? I didn’t ask her to follow me around, and she’s certainly capable of doing her own thing. She’s probably lonely without Mila, Lin, or Luo-Luo around, though I’ve noticed she doesn’t get along with Yan very well. No idea why. “You know, when we first arrived in Central, I was worried Roc and the others wouldn’t know how to survive on their own.” Giving Roc’s distended belly a soft poke, I chuckle and add, “Seems silly now that I think about it.”

“There are no great trees or cliffs for birds to nest in,” Song replies, giving in to Yipi and Kai Yay’s squawks for attention, “So they stay close to the coastlines where most subsist on fish and water fowl. Also, being more densely populated, Central has hunted most of the dangerous, land-based predators to extinction. Only smaller predators such as snakes, weasels, badgers, and foxes survived, though a few varieties of canines and wildcats are still lurking about, all of no threat to the laughing birds so long as they remain cautious.”

Ooh, doggies. Yay. “What kind of canines? Are they friendly?”

“Yes. Some are tame, used to guard chickens or...”

More receptive to this topic, Song and I chat about the wildlife in Central and which ones would make the best pets, all without making eye contact while we play with our birds. Although our rankings differ greatly (who wants a pet mouse or weasel over a dog or fox?), we both agree there is a general need for more floofs in our lives, because there clearly aren’t enough to go around when the whole family is together. The conversation shifts from prospective floofs to the ones we left back in SuiHua and how their training might be progressing, before moving on to how we might teach the laughing birds the same lessons, or if we even should. Amused and horrified at the thought of Roc using his Honed beak to nip my fingers and steal shiny jewellery, I shake my head and sigh. “I suppose it’s a good thing the birds don’t have Cores. They’re already troublesome enough as it is.”

“Mm.” This time, Song’s grunt is tinged with approval. “Treasuring a jade ring becomes a crime.”

“...Sorry, I don’t follow. What do you mean?”

Song’s surprised blinks are tantamount to bewildered shock. “Their Spiritual Hearts.”

“Oh right.” The extra step animals take where they infuse Chi or Heavenly Energy into their physical bodies to produce a Heart, thereby become hunting targets to every Martial Warrior in need of a Spiritual Weapon. Mama Bun is apparently on the cusp of producing one, though I’ll kill anyone who tries to slaughter her, Legate and Imperials included. I’ve been told I’m pretty much trying to do the same thing with my whole self-flagellation and natural healing business, force Heavenly Energy into my physical body to create a natural Spiritual Weapon, which sounds like a great idea, but no one else seems to think so. “Why don’t people put more effort into turning their body parts into personal Spiritual Hearts? Iron skin, jade bones, steel tendons, it all seems fairly useful.” No, steel tendons don’t make sense. Plus, teeth are probably a better place to start; not because I have an unhealthy obsession with them, but because they’re small and replaceable in case something goes wrong. Or right.

“Time.” Brief and concise as usual, Song cuts straight to the heart of the matter, as it were. “Even a half-beast’s life span is not long enough to produce a Spiritual Heart, whereas powerful animals can live for hundreds to thousands of years.”

I suppose that’s why Akanai said my attempts were like swatting flies with a heavy spear, small results attained with great effort. “Why does it take so long? Better question, how do animals live for so long?”

“No one knows.” And to Song, that’s all there is to it. She never wastes time pondering the unknowns, because if no one knows, then there’s no point agonizing over it. I, on the other hand, work at the question like a shard of bone stuck between my teeth. Why are some Chi-capable animals practically immortal? Are Ancestral Beasts the same? What about Divinities? Do long-lived Martial practitioners produce Spiritual Hearts? If I cut GangShu’s arm off, could I use it to make a Spiritual Weapon? If Taduk then regrew GangShu’s arm for him, would it still be a Spiritual Heart? Can I use Spiritual Water on myself to create a Spiritual Heart? What about Heavenly Energy? Why does the process take so long and how can I speed it up?

Why do I do this to myself? It’s not like I’ll ever find an answer, unless I feel like wasting a whole bunch of Heavenly Energy to test it or GangShu is in a chatty/self-mutilating mood. Besides, I haven’t seen him since Mahakala’s death, probably hard at work with the Tyrant crafting a new Pong Pong tracking device. I still have no idea what I’ll say when he finds out about my tiny turtle friend, but with luck, I’ll be dead long before it becomes an issue.

Should I warn Pong Pong and set him free? How?

After dinner, I say goodnight to Ping Ping and leave the floofs in Song’s care as I head out for my turn at watch duty. I almost wish the Defiled would attack so I can work off this nervous energy and go to bed exhausted, but alas, my watch passes without incident. After collecting the floofs from Song, I head back to my yurt for bed, though I doubt I’ll get much sleep. On the plus side, my post-Baledagh enervation has disappeared and I’m back to sleeping four hours a night, so there’s that. Then again, considering years of post-traumatic stress and insomnia is probably what led to Baledagh in the first place, I’m not sure this is really a plus.

Too wound up to lie still, I give up on sleep and take a seat on the floor, double checking to make sure Mama Bun, Blackjack, and Pong Pong are all still in bed. I’m not entirely sure how I dive into Natal Palaces or if my long-eared floofs even have Natal Palaces to dive into, but I’d rather not risk another foray into the spiritually massive turtle’s gargantuan domain. Not that it matters. It could be the fear, frustration, anxiety, or perhaps the torrent of whispering Spectres are to blame, but Balance doesn’t come easily tonight. My mind will not calm, I cannot focus on nothing, and I’m painfully aware of all my faults and deficiencies. Maybe a month off wasn’t long enough, or maybe it was too long and I need to work off the rust. Who knows. Not this guy. I know nothing. Ugh. Focus. Calm. I wish I could go swimming in the bay. It’s always nice and calm underwater, except when it isn’t. Fucking sharks.

Annoyed by my failures, I lie back with a sigh and despair. The last time I had trouble finding Balance was before Baledagh came into being, because I’d become Tainted and was on the cusp of turning Defiled. Is that what’s happening here? Why are things so difficult on this patrol? Because I’m bored of fighting? Or am I worried about the tentacle-knife Demon Jorani saw in Sinuji? Maybe it’s guilt from not helping Ji Yeon. I’m a sucker for a pretty face and doubly so with a damsel in distress, but I just ignored her plight and sent her back to the people who tried to kill her. Her brother and betrothed, no less. God the Society is fucked up.

So what do I do? Rekindle my love of bloodshed? Ride back to rescue a beauty? Before, I fixed things by creating Baledagh, but that’s not an option anymore. I wish Baatar or Akanai were here to help. They rarely give lessons these days and barely even send letters, but I can’t blame them. They have more important things to deal with than a stubborn idiot who refuses to listen. No, that’s not fair, and probably Spectres. I never really appreciated how much my family risked to welcome me into the Bekhai, or how hard they fought to keep me there. They aren’t to blame for my problems, and even if they were a thousand times busier, Baatar and Akanai would still make time for lessons if they thought I needed them. Even though they prefer I figure things out on my own, they wouldn’t leave me flapping in the wind with no help or support, which means they’re confident I have the tools required to progress along my Martial Path and are content to let me puzzle it out.

So what would they do if I told them I was having trouble finding Balance?

Probably tell me to seek Insight in the Forms. That’s essentially what most of my training amounted to, that and sparring. Resigned to give it a try, I clear the yurt and do as Baatar taught me several years ago, freeing my mind as my body slowly guides me through the Forms. Stalk the Dragon melds into Killing Lunge before seamlessly shifting into Swipe the Rushes, a prelude to Reverse the Flow and Fanged Clutch. Finding a sense of comfort in the familiar movements, I relax and feel all my anxieties and insecurities melting away as I give myself over to studying the Forms.

Unity’s binding ceremony aside, I can’t remember my last Insight into the Forms. Why? It’s a part of my daily routine, but somewhere along the way, I stopped studying them because... because I was impatient. I was so caught up with my Blessing and Blobby, using External Chi and whether Visualization or Intent is better for Chi manipulation, I forgot all about the Forms and the mysteries hidden within. I spend so much time speculating on wild guesses and half-baked theories because I’m too eager, too ambitious, and too impatient for more. I’m like a kid who just learned to count and is trying to puzzle out quantum physics instead of learning how to add and subtract. Add in all my neurotic tendencies and a rotating host of Spectres lodged in my brain, and well, we got ourselves a mental breakdown stew going.

Just relax. Your retinue will be fine without you fretting over them all the time, and who cares about what the Abbot is doing? Stop worrying about what GangShu will do, you’ve made your choice, so live with it. Leave the mysteries of animals and Spiritual Hearts for someone else, it’s a flight of fancy you don’t have the time or lifespan to indulge. I’m not saying stop asking questions and leave everything to fate, but there are some things outside of your control, so stressing over them accomplishes nothing.

As for becoming stronger? Baatar once told me ‘the Forms hide within them all the knowledge you require in order to do battle’. How much of that knowledge have I uncovered? Probably less than a single percent, which makes my desire to move on all the more ridiculous. The answers were right in front of my face all along. Seek nothing, find everything, isn’t that how it goes?

Banishing all extraneous thoughts, I calm my mind and focus on nothing, making my way through the Forms, one movement at a time.

And when the last movement fades away, I find Balance already upon me and slip into my Natal Palace, my domain, drawn there by an inkling in the back of my mind I wasn’t even aware of until I act upon it. Ignoring the horde of Spectres all but begging me to surrender, my attention fixates on the torrent of Heavenly Energy surging into my Core, invisible and intangible, but the sensation is there. What was once a warm summer breeze in the cool, calming shade has become a constant struggle to keep my head above water, one I’ve grown accustomed to in the years since I first put on the Runic Ring. Even after I stopped wearing it, nothing changed. The Energy of the Heavens were once gentle and affectionate, a refreshing, invigorating experience which left me tranquil and content, but now it is more akin to a turbulent river, raging windstorm, blazing inferno, and destructive earthquake all wrapped into one, somehow both exhilarating and calming at the same time.

It’s like I’m fighting the Energy of the Heavens, trying to keep it from overwhelming me, right until I feel the overwhelming urge to stop struggling and let the power consume me. Why? Others say that to bask in the Energy of the Heavens is to experience the warm embrace of the Mother, but why does it feel so... antagonistic?

Because it’s resisting. Probably for the same reason Chi returns to Heavenly Energy when released into the world, because that’s its natural state, and what I do now is... unnatural? Wait, no. No one else has this problem, so this must be something unique to me. Why?

...Fucking idiot. You’re doing it again, speculating without basis. I can’t help it. It’s who I am. Still, my gut tells me I’m onto something, like I have most of the pieces to the puzzle, but just can’t figure out how it all comes together...

From the top. Heavenly Energy goes into my Core and becomes Chi. Chi moves out of my Core and goes back to Heavenly Energy. Heavenly Energy in and Heavenly Energy out. Aside from the name, what’s the difference between Chi and Heavenly Energy? No, better question, how do I keep Chi from turning back into Heavenly Energy? Is it possible to... expand my Core outside my body so Chi stays Chi? No, that’s stupid. Not my Core, but some type of barrier which can’t be Chi. I tried that with Sending and it didn’t work, so... what do I make the barrier out of? What else do I have? What am I missing? It feels as if it should be obvious, like the answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t figure out what it is...

New topic. Fresh break. Come back to this later.

Animals have Spiritual Hearts. Animals have everlasting life. Left side equals right side, so Spiritual Heart equals immortality?

...No. Break.

Embrace of the Mother. Surrender to the Father. Are they really all that different?

...Probably Spectres. Break.

Fuck I’m doing it again, reaching beyond my comprehension. Still, I think I was close to several answers there, but I couldn’t quite finish any of my thoughts. Overwhelmed with frustration, Balance slips away and I crawl into bed to rest, but before the blankets even settle over my body, shouts rise throughout camp, warning of an incoming Defiled attack.

What did I say? Just my friggen luck...

Chapter Meme

Chapter Meme 2