Savage Divinity

Stomach fluttering in rhythm with the shadows flickering by torchlight, Song directed Tiger Squad into formation as they readied to meet the Defiled. Her nervous apprehension had nothing to do with the obscured figures jogging towards them through the shrouded night’s gloom. According to Chey, the Enemy came in greater numbers than they’d ever faced before, but the odds were of little concern to Song. With a flowing river on one side and a deep pond on the other, the retinue’s defensible position limited the number of combatants each side could bring to bear, and in comparable numbers, the Defiled were no match for the Imperial Death Corps Elites at her side. Even if the desert-dwelling Defiled overcame their aversion to swimming, it would only hasten their hour of death and leave them helpless before the deadly, aquatic roosequins.

Though the battle would be long and tedious due to the lack of charging cavalry and chariots, their victory was all but assured.

No, the Defiled were not the cause of Song’s trepidation, only a stark reminder of her abject failures. Two months of near constant combat and she had little to show for it, only marginally stronger today than she was when she first joined Rain’s retinue. Tail lashing in agitation, Song glanced back at Tursinai’s wide grin and took comfort from the Khishig’s imposing presence as she twirled a short section of chain in slow, easy circles. Poised and patient as always, Tenjin stood beside his beloved wife with a throwing knife dancing through his fingers, ready to step in and pull Song to safety should she falter in the coming battle, as he’d done during yesterday’s brief skirmish and countless other times before.

Though they’d only encountered the most feral and impulsive of Defiled, the dregs and chaff of the Enemy, Song had almost died more times than she cared to remember. A slip of the foot here, a momentary lapse of focus there, her litany of errors grew with every battle and it shamed her to her bones. To think, she dared called herself a Khishig of the Bekhai and thought to make her family proud with such lacklustre skills and deficient talents, unable to keep herself safe while wearing a priceless Runic breastplate. Tenjin and Tursinai were only a handful of years older, a year or two senior to Situ Jia Zian, and both were easily talented enough to warrant a Major’s rank should they desire it, but their abilities were wasted protecting an incompetent dreamer like Song.

Meeting Song’s eyes, Tursinai winked and Sent, “Don’t you worry Commander Li-Li, Hubby acted a little too hastily yesterday, but it was our first day back and you know how he frets. I’ll keep him out of your hair, so you fight to your heart’s content.” Anxiety spiking due to the misunderstanding, Song held her hand out so she could clear the air through Sending, but the capricious Khishig shook her head and instead stuck out her tongue. “No time for hand holding Commander Li-Li, but I’ll be happy to snuggle after the battle’s finished. In fact, if you’d like to snuggle sooner, then why don’t we send Hubby out to end the battle now? He’s been looking for an excuse to show off and you know how men are with their egos.”

Oh how Song wished she could Send without physical contact and correct this misunderstanding, but even after devoting so much effort to the subject in the past three months, she had yet to accomplish anything even remotely resembling success. Were this her only shortcoming, then circumstances would not be so dire, but since becoming Mama’s Disciple, Song had made no progress whatsoever along her Martial Path. Not only was she unable to utilize external Chi, she also had yet to condense her Aura and still struggled with her mental exercises, to say nothing of forming an actual Natal Palace.

Despite weeks of failure, Mama was still as patient as ever, her letters filled with love and encouragement which told Song not to concern herself with failure or success, but to simply continue with her strange and seemingly frivolous exercises without reason or explanation. Why did it matter if Song could close her eyes and remember how many swords were in the room, or have one conversation through Sending and another out loud at the same time? Not that she could, but what benefit would be gained from success? The other assignments were similarly far-fetched, doing things like drawing circles with the right hand and squares with the left, playing games of concentration with Tursinai and Tenjin, or reciting memorized poetry while performing the Forms. None of it made sense to Song, and though she gave it her all, her constant failures and lack of progress were both shameful and discouraging.

Things had been different with Teacher Du, who always laid out his expectations beforehand and gave Song a goal to strive for. With Mama, there were no goals or markers to track her progress which left her feeling lost in her training, like a ship adrift in the Azure Sea without oar or sail. Mama always answered Song’s questions the same way, to continue her exercises, seek Insight in the Forms, and meditate on her findings, but no matter how hard she tried, she still couldn’t perform two separate tasks at once like Mama expected her to. Single-minded focus was one of Song’s greatest strengths as she’d been taught to devote all her attention to the task at hand, but in her last letter, Mama instructed Song to recite the entirety of the Classics of Poetry while in combat, even at the cost of Enlightenment. Yesterday, she’d lost her place while battling a particularly tenacious opponent and almost lost her head in the process, but Tenjin’s timely intervention kept her neck intact.

Three stanzas consisting of fifteen words total, that’s how far she got into her first poem before forgetting her place, an utterly disgraceful display.

Making a note to clear up the misunderstanding and thank Tenjin properly, Song swallowed her irritation and reached for Balance, for the scouts were slipping past her lines and the Defiled close enough to see. Already in place atop their wagons behind her, the bows of the Protectorate sang out in greeting, their arrows flitting off into the darkness to strike down the oncoming foe. Without need for orders, the Death Corps collectively pointed their polearms towards the Defiled horde, the disciplined, dark-armoured warriors utterly silent in stark contrast to their unruly, howling foes. Gripping her sheath with her left hand and the hilt with the right, Song lowered her stance and recited the first line of ‘Clear Temple’. “Solemn is the Clear Temple.”

The Defiled charge slowed to a crawl once they reached the crossing, with many in the vanguard slipping into the depths of the pond or pushed into and carried away by the roaring river. “Reverent are the illustrious adherents.” The second stanza was accompanied by the mechanical twang of crossbows, the scouts repaying the Enemy for the harrowing chase. Bodies fell by the dozens as the Defiled wavered in shallows, only to be trampled underfoot once their fury overcame reason, heedlessly dashing over the slick natural dam and into the waiting polearms of the Death Corps. Tiger Swipes the Rushes scored Song’s first kill of the night, her sabre Honed and Lightened in simultaneous fashion. “Dignified are the many officers.” She once likened using two separate Chi Skills to composing a poem with the right hand while painting a portrait with the left, but she now knew the depths of her ignorance. The former now seemed easy as turning her hand and the latter more difficult than squeezing blood from a stone.

“Adhering to the virtues of Nobility.” Sabre still Honed and Lightened, Song Amplified her next attack, cleaving her opponent’s weapon in twain and severing flesh and bone behind it. Retracting her weapon from the entangling corpse, she raised her saber high and...

Forgot the next stanza.

The brief moment of hesitation cost Song dearly as her opponent’s attack landed before her sabre claimed his life. The bone spear slid off her Runic armour thanks to its innate Deflection, and the dampening effect meant she barely felt the impact, but sheer instinct drove her a step back and left a gap in the line. Scrambling to recover, she unleashed a flurry of two-handed thrusts while trying to remember which stanza she’d left off on, but her mind was still blank after reclaiming her place. Restarting from the beginning, she rushed through the poem but lost focus on the battle and somewhere along the way, forgot to keep Honing her blade. Caught by surprise as she locked weapons with an opponent, she failed to react in time and was driven back by the heavier Defiled’s forward advance. A supporting hand reached out to steady her balance and Song Honed her sabre once again, cutting through the crude axe as if it were made of water instead of stone.

Cheeks burning in humiliation, Song avoided looking back at her guardians and yearned to stop waxing poetic, but Mama’s instructions were clear. Even if Song didn’t understand why, Mama believed reciting poetry whilst battling would help her become stronger, so she would continue to do so until it bore fruit. “Solemn is the Clear Temple,” she shouted as she split her next foe’s skull, so frustrated by the lack of Enlightenment and her repeated failures that she needed to vent. “Reverent are its illustrious adherents.” Impaling a Defiled through the chest, she rushed in and shoved the corpse into a crowd of Defiled. “Dignified are the gathered officers.” No longer constrained by the close-knit formation, Song unleashed her fury upon the Defiled with Twitching Tail and Sharpened Claw, Fanged Clutch and Killing Lunge, her favoured tools among the Tiger Forms. “Adhering to the virtues of Nobility.”

Reverse the Flow saw her dance away from one opponent before she departed from the Tiger Forms to execute Oriole Takes Flight. Why she chose this particular movement over a more familiar one, Song couldn’t say, but her upward slash caught her target unaware and bisected him from hip to shoulder. “Praising our Mother in Heaven,” she cried as she performed Pounce Upon the Lamb, gutting three foes on her way back to cut down the first one she’d left behind. “They Hurry swiftly into the temple.” Already turned away to face a Death Corps soldier, he lost his life to Mantis’ Hidden Ambush, and Oriole Raises the Winds finished off Song’s gutted foes, both superior options to what would’ve been her first choice of Killing Lunge and Swipes the Rushes. Her immediate area cleared of foes, she found herself with a full second of calm to recite the last two stanzas, and she did so with head held high. “Greatly illustrious, greatly dignified, She safeguards Her children forevermore.”

Finally. A mere eight stanzas and forty-one words, but thus concluded the first poem of the Classics of Poetry. A minor achievement and small step along her Martial path, but one to take pride in.

The battle continued unabated and Song held her place at the front, reciting poetry as her body guided her through the Forms. Bull Form – Traverse the Mountain and Deer Form – Part the Underbrush, Snake Form – Shake the Branch and Bear Form – Pluck the Honeycomb, Song had never used most of these movements in true battle before, but she performed them as naturally as breathing. While busy reciting poetry, she had less time to find the perfect variation of movement from Tiger Form to respond with, so instead, she defaulted to whichever basic movement from any Form fit best. As the battle continued, she gained confidence in her instincts and went back to planning several steps in advance as she’d been trained to, her mind adapting to the extra burden with surprising ease. No longer lingering at the edge of perception, Enlightenment came easily now, her body relaxing even as her senses sharpened. The fog of battle lifted away and Song’s prowess rose another notch, the circle of dead Defiled growing as she chanted her poems and danced along the battle lines.

How long she fought for, she couldn’t say, but when Tursinai pulled her away from the battle, Song found herself barely able to stand. Her lungs burned and arms were leaden, and only now did she realize her Death Corps had already fallen back into camp to rest, replaced by Rain and Dragon Squad fighting on foot in the choke point while Phoenix squad guarded the camp’s rear. Leaning heavily on Tursinai for support, Song used her chin to point at an open area by the pond, and though the teasing woman spoke idly of throwing Song into the water to rinse her clean, Tursinai helped her to her chosen vantage point where she continued watching the battle.

Had it been Phoenix Squad embroiled in combat, Song would have gladly sat down to rest since she worked with Mister Rustram the most, but ever since discovering just how difficult her next steps would be, she saw Rain and Dastan in a new light. Nineteen and twenty-three years old respectively, both were much farther along the Martial Path than Song was at the age of twenty-one, and she yearned to know why. Though she could still match them in spars, both were Aura-capable Experts who would only grow stronger with time, and it showed. Axe and shield in hand, Dastan’s performance spoke for itself, an untouchable whirlwind of violence on the left flank as he almost single-handedly drove the Enemy back into the shallows. On the right flank, Rain performed a similar role, hacking and slashing repeatedly with inelegant efficiency. Unlike Dastan’s wild glee, Rain almost looked bored in comparison, executing Sweeping the Fields into Swiping the Rushes in a continuous cycle and barely slowed by the multiple bodies standing in his path. Left, then right, then left, then right, he swung his glaive back and forth along an unchanging arc, yet no Defiled could stand before him as he harvested lives much like a farmer harvested wheat.

Where Song defeated her opponents with superior skill, Rain massacred them with overwhelming power and clever tactics, stopping his advance at the edge of the shallows so Dragon Squad stood on solid ground while the Defiled moved across grasping mud and slick stone. Situational Positioning, as outlined in Huang Shaotian’s Three Hunting Strategies, but where he found the time to study the complex and flowery manuscript, Song couldn’t say. What truly boggled her mind was seeing his slender frame produce so much explosive power time and time again, but it was clear his every strike was generously Reinforced and Amplified.

The seconds turned to minutes until Dragon Squad had fought for a quarter hour, and still Rain continued with his flawlessly Amplified attacks. This begged the question: how? How did he have enough Chi to sustain for so long? How had he yet to fail a single attempt? How did he make slaughtering multiple Defiled with every swing look so easy and effortless? While Song had finally taken her first step in ages, it seemed like Rain was still progressing in leaps and bounds. Not just in Martial Prowess, but in tactical acumen as well, his accomplishments so great Song no longer dared give advice unless explicitly questioned lest she make a fool out of herself in front of him.

Why the thought of that happening vexed her so, Song couldn’t say...

“Why, Commander Li-Li, your cute little cat ears are pressed flat to your head.” Tursinai’s Sending bore a teasing tone as she hugged Song tight. “Is something the matter? Why don’t you tell Big Sister all about it?”

Settling back in Tursinai’s warm embrace, Song rested her temple against the taller woman’s cheek and Sent, “Big Sister, I stagnate along the Martial Path while my peers pass me by. Mama tells me not to worry and to proceed at my own pace, but what if I fail and disappoint her?”

“Kya, Li-Li is so cute.” Squeezing her even tighter, Tursinai kissed Song on the cheek and Sent, “First off, your Mama loves you no matter what, and she’ll never be disappointed so long as you are happy. Second, you can’t go wrong with the Chief Provost as your Mentor, so follow her instructions and strength will come. Third, answer me this Li-Li: why do you seek strength?”

Frowning, Song considered the question before answering with the same thing she told Mama. “I pursue strength so I can stand with Sister, Mama, and Papa without being a burden.” Strength made her needed, and while it was nice to be loved, being needed made her feel secure.

“Then you’ve no need to train anymore,” Tursinai Sent, punctuating her point with another kiss on the cheek. “Your family would never see you as a burden, because the burden would fall on hubby and me.” Chuckling at her own joke, she continued, “Your desire to stand alongside your family is admirable, but if you hope to match the likes of your Mama and Papa, then you have a journey of centuries ahead of you. No need to stress over being surpassed by Rain and Dastan, because worst comes to worst, you can claim superiority after outliving them.”

Noting Song’s dissatisfaction, Tursinai Sent, “You see the other youths with their Auras, Natal Palaces, and Blessings, and you’re worried you can’t match up.” Song nodded and Tursinai continued, “Well, you’re right. You can’t match up right now. Heaven isn’t fair, and chances are you would have fallen behind regardless because half-beasts in general are slower to progress with regards to Chi manipulation.” Which made Wu Gam and Du Min Yan all the more talented, but Song held her tongue. “Don’t pout, little Li-Li, though it is oh so adorable. Envy and resentment will eat away at your resolve, and even should you overcome it, it wastes time better spent training. Worry not about how your peers fare, for everyone moves along the Martial Path at the same pace: one step at a time.”

Nodding in agreement with Tursinai’s sage advice, Song replied, “True, but I still want to be stronger. Though I made some progress in training today and saw its effectiveness, I don’t understand how reciting poetry is supposed to help form my Natal Palace.” Knowing the Bekhai penchant for letting students reach their own conclusions, Song wasn’t brazen enough to directly ask Tursinai for advice, but the talented warrior surely had something to offer.

Understanding Song’s meaning, Tursinai shook her head and sighed. “The Chief Provost will have my hide if I overstep, so listen carefully, if only so you can tell her exactly what I said and prove me innocent. Forget your Natal Palace. You haven’t even condensed your Aura yet, so just continue working on the exercises your Mama gave you and reflect on my earlier question. Strength for the sake of strength is meaningless, for only with purpose can Martial Strength truly hold significance. Got it?”

“Yes Big Sister. Thank You.” Though she didn’t quite understand Tursinai’s veiled meanings, Song committed every word to heart before turning her thoughts to her second Spiritual Weapon. Though she already put off answering Papa for a quarter of a year, she still had no answer to give. She’d hoped to ask her older brother Kyung for insight into Teacher Du’s thoughts, but not only did he repeatedly rebuff her attempts to make conversation and refuse to spar because she was clearly not his match, he treated their shared parentage and teachings as empty air, and only carried a single Martial Weapon, a sabre much like her own.

In short, Kyung was a massive disappointment, of no help whatsoever, and prickly to boot.

Seeing Rain and Dragon Squad holding the Defiled back with ease, Song wondered if he had any insight to offer. Though he’d been on his best behaviour while holding her chain and she was fond of his warm head pats, she wasn’t too keen about going to him for advice. It wasn’t because she worried he might take advantage or tout his strength over her, but there was something unsavoury about outright admitting her inferiority. Why this was, again, she couldn’t quite say, but the mere thought of acknowledging his genius out loud set her nerves on edge, especially now that he’d gone back to being intensely uncomfortable in her presence, a sign of his impure thoughts he could not act upon.

A failing of all men, but at least Rain was repentant of his desires.

If purpose was so important to Martial Strength, then maybe Song should set a goal of her own besides becoming strong for the sake of being needed, something like surpassing Rain and Yan, defeating Kyung, or better yet, catching up to Tursinai. Then again, maybe something more realistic was in order such as... having her own pet. No, this had nothing to do with the Martial Path, though she would enjoy having an animal to love and call her own, an affectionate but practical creature who served a purpose and could fit in her yurt. A small dream, but best not be too greedy, for she still remembered a time when her dreams consisted of enduring through the night until her morning ritual, the scant five minutes a day which were hers, and hers alone. In light of this, perhaps she didn’t need a pet of her own, for she had already been blessed with a loving family and compassionate friends.

Then again, having a cute, battle-trained torch weasel or thunder mouse would make up for her lack of Awakening and offer a marked increase in strength. Nestled in Tursinai’s arms, Song idly watched the engagement play out and imagined herself striding across the battlefield with her sabre engulfed in flame or lightning, reciting poetry and slaughtering Defiled as easily as lifting her hand while leaving Rain awestruck in her wake...

Truly a dream, but perhaps a goal as well...

Chapter Meme

Chapter Meme2