Savage Divinity

From start to finish, the Abbot stands in silence while I narrate my time with Mahakala, from how I first discovered him lurking in the shadows to how I was there for his last, heartbreaking moments as a dying man so haunted by the mistakes of his past. So still and stoic, the aged Abbot doesn’t blink when I talk about my split personality and how Mahakala helped me through it, or shed a tear when I mention his regrets, the horror of Anathema, or how I had to dismember not one, but two of my limbs in my failed efforts to save him. Not my proudest moments, but the Abbot remains statue-still until my story is finished and I hold Mahakala’s Spiritual Weapon out for him to take, at which point his expressionless facade comes crumbling apart. Deflating as the tears flow freely down his cheeks, the Abbot bows his head and presses his hands together in prayer while staring at the inert Spiritual Spade, indisputable proof of his senior brother’s death.

Maybe I should’ve brought the weapon out first...

It’s heartbreaking seeing him in such distress, especially since he is hands down the oldest looking man I’ve ever met, with aged sunspots dotting his wrinkled skin and knobbly fingers which tremble when they should be still. Seriously, he looks like he belongs in a wheelchair and needs full-time care from a team of doctors, nurses, and orderlies. Not what I was expecting considering Mahakala was the senior brother and a vibrant, robust Martial Warrior in the prime of life, so either the Abbot joined the Brotherhood late in life or he really hasn’t aged well.

The differences are stark indeed. Even dressed plainly in his dirty red and yellow robes, Mahakala exuded vigour and determination, whereas the ancient and frail Abbot in his clean grey robes looks ready to topple over at a stiff breeze. The former gave the impression of an ascetic whose travels brought him far and wide, a boisterous man who befriended people from all walks of life and learned from their experiences, while the latter makes me question if he’s ever left the monastery since he first stepped foot inside, a stern and cheerless soul born for chanting sutras and ruminating on the mysteries of Nirvana or whatever it is monks do. Even though I only minutes ago saw him deftly avoid a barrage of attacks from Dad and two Death Corps guards with ease, I can’t help but worry that the Abbot will grow weary standing on two feet.

Or you know... catch a cold and fall over dead. Seriously, dude looks old.

Speaking of catching cold, though the Central winters are mild compared to ones in the North, the temperature still drops low enough for frost and snow, meaning it’s also low enough to freeze my balls off. While I stand with arms extended holding Mahakala’s Spade, the evening wind cuts through me like an icy knife and my arms tremble with cold and strain, but the Abbot’s eyes are still closed and teary so I endure as best I can. Mom, Dad, Taduk, Lin, Yan, Du Min Gyu, and a handful of Death Corps guards are all standing nearby to watch over the proceedings, but out of respect for Mahakala’s last wishes, I asked them not to listen in since it touches on the secrets of the Penitent Brotherhood. Still, I wouldn’t mind a floof or two to keep me company and maybe shelter me from the cold, but those furry traitors all scattered after the Abbot appeared and followed Luo-Luo back to her room, wrapped in my silken blankets and nothing else.

I could be warm in bed with a beautiful, busty, naked woman right now, but no... I’m sad about Mahakala’s death too and I want to let the Abbot mourn properly, but it’s late, I’m tired, and this weapon is heavy.

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.” Wiping his tears away with the sleeves of his robe, the Abbot finally accepts the weapon with trembling hands, holding it with reverence as if it were Mahakala’s remains instead. “When Mentor named this monk as his successor and the next Abbot of the Brotherhood, we both protested the decision,” he said, not speaking directly to me, but simply venting out loud. “We thought Mentor would pick Senior Brother, for he was the obvious choice, but despite our insistence, Mentor would not relent and Senior Brother’s pride never recovered from this grievous blow. The wound festered and infected his thoughts, led him astray from the Eight-Fold Path to instead wander and explore the vicissitudes of the mortal world. Once a shining example of the Brotherhood’s ideals, he became a monk only in name and adhered to the Four Noble Truths whenever convenient, spending his days drinking to numb his sorrows, eating to suppress his resentment, and arguing with the junior brother whom he once doted upon. Your junior cannot even remember our last pleasant conversation, for the memory is buried beneath countless instances of meaningless bickering. Oh Senior Brother...”

Hoping it brings the Abbot some comfort, I tell him, “Before he died, he said, ‘Mourn not for my passing, for death is merely a new beginning, a chance to start anew’.” Not an outlook I agree with, but maybe it’ll help.

It doesn’t.

With a piteous wail, the Abbot drops to his knees and raises the spade horizontally above his head, weeping as he yells at the Heavens. “Brother! Your junior has failed you, for he was not there in your time of need. Rest easy in the arms of the Mother, and may we be reunited again in our next life, or any life hereafter. Such anguish, such regret...”

Uncomfortable in the face of such palpable grief, I avert my gaze and stare at the grass while reflecting on my time with Mahakala. I didn’t know him too well and agreed with less than half of what he said, but in the short time we spent together, he did so much for me. Not only did he force me to accept a harsh truth which I’d been avoiding, he also died trying to keep me safe from the Confessor, though I’m still not entirely sure why that crazy bastard wanted me dead. I owe Mahakala so much for what he did, and I will never forgive myself for being such a giant screw-up. Had I not lost Blobby, I could’ve saved him and all this trouble could’ve been avoided, a fact which I am terrified to admit out loud. Not because I’m worried the Abbot won’t take it well, but because I’m ashamed and I don’t want anyone else to know about my mistakes.

His outburst finished, the Abbot clambers to his feet with the spade in hand, clutching it close to his chest like a protective talisman instead of letting it rest on the ground. “This monk apologizes for his negligence, Junior Brother,” the Abbot says, his voice hoarse as he finally noticing my uncontrollable shivering. “Let us speak in the dining room, or wherever you might find convenient.” I can feel his eyes watching from behind as he follows me into the sitting room, but he makes no move to help despite my difficulties walking. It’s hard to hold tight to a walker while quivering like a bowstring, and my teeth are chattering so much I’m worried they’ll crack, but Dad is quick to run over and help once it’s apparent we’re no longer talking. Soon enough, I’m sitting on a padded chair in front of a lit brazier, sipping hot tea courtesy of Charok and luxuriating in warmth as the feeling returns to my body. Taking one polite sip from his cup, the Abbot puts his teacup aside and waits until my body stops shaking and my family seats themselves off to the side before speaking again, though a quiver in his voice betrays his grief. “This one heard of Junior Brother’s plight from Jorani, but he had scant details to offer. Pray tell, how did you end up in this condition?”

How did Jorani know I was crippled? It happened a week after he left. Instead of answering the question, I respond with one of my own, because there are too many left unanswered for me to feel safe. “Is he here?”

Nodding, the Abbot replies, “He is outside seeking accommodation for the Ancestral Beast GangShu and his companions, as well a Brother of ours who came with to handle Kukku.” With a faraway look, the Abbot nods and smiles ever so sadly. “An impressive young man, that Jorani, and a promising initiate if he can overcome this hurdle and persevere along the Eight-Fold Path.” Did Jorani shave his head and become a eunuch? Hardly seems like the type, but then again, he’s been gone for like three months. Maybe the other monks are more convincing than Mahakala was, but I should find some time to speak with Jorani alone to make sure he wasn’t strong-armed into joining.

Also, who’s Kukku and why does he need a monk to handle him?

Mistaking the source of my confusion, the Abbot straightens up and says, “Ah, of course, Brother SanDukkha must be suspicious of this monk’s identity, so allow this monk to call Jorani over.” Waving aside my half-hearted denial, he pauses for a moment before adding, “He will arrive shortly, so let us continue our conversation after he has laid your doubts to rest.”

I probably should’ve thought to verify the Abbot’s identity before telling him all about Mahakala, my Natal Palace diving abilities, and all those other important secrets, but one look at the Abbot and you can tell he’s a monk, a man so dedicated to being bald, he even shaved off his eyebrows. On the other hand, if he happens to be a fraud, then at least my Heavenly Oaths won’t kill me for revealing the secrets of the Brotherhood...

Patient to a fault, the Abbot closes his eyes to meditate or wallow in his sorrow while I sit and sip my tea in awkward silence. Real silence, not just the absence of words, but the absence of all sounds besides our breathing. It’s a strange experience sitting inside a Sound Barrier, and even though I’ve done it before, this is the first chance I’ve had to examine one. Before today, I never realized how noisy the world is, and it’s disconcerting to see the grass rustle and the brazier crackle without hearing the accompanying sounds.

Luckily, Jorani arrives before my noisy breathing drives me insane, though his appearance throws me for a loop. While he was never the sharpest dresser, seeing him in the same thick, grey robes as the Abbot is entirely out of character, and the thin layer of fuzz atop his lumpy scalp couldn’t have taken more than a day or two to grow. It looks horrendous, but so does Jorani himself, a wizened shell of his former self with dark circles under his eyes and pale, sickly skin, his body so gaunt it’s as if the last meal he ate was in Sinuji. None of this does anything to blunt the warmth of his smile as he steps through the Sound Barrier after paying respects to my parents. “Hey bossman,” he says while we clasp hands and awkwardly pat one another on the shoulder, neither one sure if we should hug or just stop here. “Ye ain’t lookin’ so good these days.”

“You’re one to talk.” Genuinely happy to see him, I try to contain my grin while inspecting his once-shaven head. “You know, I hear some women use hot wax to get rid of unwanted hair. Pulls it out right by the roots. What say I grab a candle and get started while you tell me all about what happened these past few months?”

“Nah, no need. Felt out of place bein’ the only one in the monastery with hair, but ain’t a problem anymore.” Running a hand over his fuzzy scalp, he smooths out his rat ears which pop right back up when he’s done, and grins sheepishly while eyeing the untouched snacks laid out by Charok. “Ye mind?”

“Long as you talk while you eat and keep most of the food in your mouth.”

“Yea...” For some reason, my lacklustre joke sucks the wind out of Jorani’s sails as he slumps in place, but his poor mood does nothing to slow his appetite. Cramming a handful of dried tofu into his mouth, he launches his tale of suspicion and betrayal, one which leaves my mind spinning in disbelief. Traitors amongst the Brotherhood suppressed information from the Abbot? Who then defected to work with Zhen Shi, the insane butcher who is not only still alive after eight-hundred years, but is also the Uniter and the cause for all our current woes? A giant rooster so powerful it can knock GangShu unconscious with a dream? What the fuck?

I wonder if I can borrow Kukku the rooster and use Dreaming to help my retinue become Experts like Jorani? That’s how I Formed my Natal Palace, it’s how Jorani Formed his Natal Palace, so why wouldn’t it work for someone else? Natal Souls are great and all, but it has the minor issue of sometimes driving people crazy, like me and probably Ulfsaar. Besides, that’s not all Dreaming is good for. Using Chi is mostly about getting the right feel for it, but what if we could impart our memories and experiences to another person through Dreaming? It’d be a way to share different experiences with Chi skills, which would make an awesome learning tool. No more vague nonsense about guiding instead of teaching or whatnot, now that would be a dream come true...

After telling his tale, Jorani falls silent while I consider the implications, but he doesn’t stay silent for long. “...Ye knew, didn’t ye?”

“Knew what? This is all news to me.”

“Ye knew about the Brotherhood bein’ Defiled.”

Oh. “Yea.”

“...Ye were also... ye know?”

So terrified by the mere thought of it, Jorani can’t even say the word again. Defiled. “Yea, I was.”

“Me too?”

“Well... I’m not entirely sure.” Scratching my cheek, I sigh and decide it’s best to be honest. “Look, don’t tell anyone, but... I do this thing, where I like... suck up all the Spectres in the area. Oh, Spectres are, uh... they’re like free-floating evil spirits or something which whisper into your brain, drive people to madness, tell the Defiled what to do, and create Demons. Well, not exactly, but yea, I Devour... that’s what Yo Ling called it, or he called me the ‘Devourer’ rather, but same difference. Anyway I Devour up Spectres and turn them into Chi, sorta.” Technically Heavenly Energy, but there are intricacies I’m not equipped to explain just yet, so might as well keep things simple. “I have this whole system, with you know... degrees of Defiledness, and after your visit to the winery, you became a tea drinker. You know, sitting down to chat with the Spectres over tea and just one step short of inviting them to stay for all eternity?” I think I’ve lost him, but I might as well keep going. “Anyways, the important part is that by Devouring Spectres, I can keep people from going full Defiled, long as I get there before they’re invited in, because once they’re in, they’re impossible to dig out. Anyway, you were a tea drinker and attracting all sorts of Spectres, and I kept Devouring them as they came, but then you kinda... your brain shit out a Spectre, and I ate it.” Terrible explanation and a poor choice of words, but it’s too late now. “Anyway, even if you were full Defiled, which I don’t think you were, it was at most for a few seconds before I ate the Spectre. It was weird though, because you were a lot better after that whole freaky incident. I think birthing the Spectre was... cathartic for you, like it was made up of all your negative emotions, then you just... punted it out and I ate it up. Crazy right?”

...I am terrible at explaining things, but in my defence, I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the eight-hundred year old mad scientist whose books I have hidden in my desk. Also, I really want to meet Kukku, but I don’t want to be friends with him because chicken is delicious...

“A rare Talent which explains many of your accomplishments.” Having regained his composure while Jorani and I talked, the Abbot wears a sombre, unreadable expression as he studies me from head to toe. “Not without risk though, for Devouring the Spectres sounds no different from forcefully inviting them in. The Droplet of Heavenly Water you found in Sanshu no doubt chose you for this Talent, seeing you as a vehicle to deliver it Spectres to ingest. Without the Droplet to cleanse you, you might well have succumbed to the Spectres’ whispered lies and surrendered your soul to the Father’s foul minions, a most fortuitous encounter indeed.” Frowning, he adds, “You said you lost the Droplet following your Awakening in Nan Ping Bay, yes? Then how is it I sense none of the Father’s Taint upon your soul?”

“I figured out how to Purify Spectres on my own, with Spiritual Water.” Seeing the Abbot’s confusion, I launch into a lengthy explanation on the different types of Water and Chi combinations I came up with. Sadly, having lost my Natal Palace, it takes a few tries before I get the explanation right, because remembering the difference between Chi water and Water Chi is apparently too complicated for my mortal mind to manage, but eventually I get the message across. “So err, yea. Spiritual Water equals fake Heavenly Water, or at least the... well, Spiritual equivalent.”

“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.” There’s no confusion or exasperation in his tone, only patient curiosity. “Junior Brother possesses an inquisitive and analytical mind, but this humble monk believes you are taking a simple idea and inundating it with complexities, when you should be doing the opposite instead. Take the complex and make it simple, then all of life’s mysteries will become clear. No need for so many different terms to describe the same thing.”

Has he not been listening to my long-winded explanation? “...But they’re not the same thing. Water Chi is Chi mimicking water, or in short, Elemental Chi. Chi water, or Chi Tea, is Chi-infused water, which is different, you see?”

“Water Chi is Water Chi, regardless of what form it takes. Take the Heavenly Droplet for example. Whether it resides within your Core or without, is Spiritual in nature or Physical, it is still a droplet of Heavenly Water.” Smiling, the Abbot points at the teapot and says, “To simplify even further, when you place dried leaves and pour hot water into the teapot, you create tea. Whether one second has passed or an hour, the tea is still tea, and simply described as thin or thick tea, rather than given a new name depending on how many leaves you placed inside or how long it has steeped for.”

...He’s not wrong, and it explains why Ping Ping doesn’t care if she drinks Chi Tea or fake Heavenly Water, because they’re more or less the same. “Now that you say it, it does make more sense just to call everything Water Chi.” Not as informative though. Maybe I could give it a designation, like a number system, but that seems worse. About to jump onto a new speculation train, my enthusiasm fizzles away as reality rears its ugly head and I remember I can’t experiment anymore, on account of my shattered Core and whatnot. “Well... not that it matters anymore.”

“Junior Brother, do not be disheartened by your current plight.” Patting my shoulder, the Abbot’s reassuring smile does little to cheer me up, tinged as it is by his grief and misery. “While this monk knows not of a cure, the Mother always leaves a path to salvation, and this one will be happy to help where he can. For now, you should rest, as the hour is late and we’ve a long journey ahead. This monk fears Junior Brother would not survive a trip through the skies, so we must return to the monastery on foot, but fear not, for even though the monastery sits in inhospitable lands, Kukku can keep us safe without violence or bloodshed.”

“Hang on.” Slow your roll there, Abby Abbot. Jorani might’ve caved to peer pressure, but the promise of seeing a giant... rooster isn’t enough to make me join a brotherhood of eunuchs. “I can’t go to the monastery with you. See, I was kinda just drafted into the Imperial Army by the Disciplinary Corps and assigned to the front lines.” Jorani and the Abbot’s blank stares compel me to launch into another lengthy explanation about my conflict with Yang Jixing, and by the time I’m finished, the tea has long since grown cold. Unable to hide my yawns any longer, I fight to keep my eyes open and say, “Besides, I wouldn’t go to the monastery anyways. As grateful as I am to Ma... to your Senior Brother, I still don’t understand why the Brotherhood is interested in me, not to mention why you’d assign me to such a high rank.” The first among five Wisdoms, what a joke. Mila will hurt herself laughing when I tell her about it.

“This will not be an issue.” Holding his head up with pride, the Abbot’s confidence is almost infectious. “The laws of the Empire are no deterrence to the Eight-Fold Path, for we of the Brotherhood hold the Precepts above them. Should the Disciplinary Corps take issue with your absence, then they will have to come find you first.”

...I can’t tell if the Abbot is smart or stupid. “I’m not going to the monastery though. Even if I up and left, my problems won’t disappear. Jixing will still want Luo-Luo, which means he’ll just switch focus to my family instead.”

“Bah.” Waving his hand in dismissal, the Abbot says, “Were it not for Senior Brother’s untimely passing, you would have long since been swayed to our cause. This monk hoped that by convincing you, Senior Brother would also convince himself to return to the monastery, but alas, man proposes and Heaven disposes.” Shaking his head with a sigh, he falls silent for a brief pause before continuing. “Junior Brother, these mortal affairs are an impermanent distraction from matters of true importance. Remember the Four Noble Truths: life is suffering, and we suffer because of the three Desires, but there is a way to escape the cycle of suffering, and that is to live by the Noble Eight-Fold Path.”

Honestly, he lost my interest at ‘life is suffering’. I mean, life does kinda suck, but it beats the alternative. Even having experienced a form of life after death (at least... I think I died? Not sure.), I’m still not in any rush to see if I’ll get another shot at life after this one has run its course.

Unfortunately, the Abbot has built up too much momentum to interrupt and he continues with his preaching. “While the war against the Defiled is a grave and alarming tribulation, what concerns this monk is not the preservation of lives, but to ensure our continued existence in the cycle of Death and Rebirth, so that in time, all may have a fair chance at Nirvana. Senior Brother told you this himself, and you witnessed the Enemy’s power firsthand. This Anathema you speak of will destroy not only our physical bodies, but also our eternal souls, and in doing so, will overturn the scales of Existence themselves. Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.”

“...Yea that’s a real serious issue, but firstly, I have no idea what you expect me to do about it, and secondly, the problem is solved once we kill Zhen Shi, Zhu Chanzui, and a whole bunch of Defiled and Demons. If we tell the Legate about the eight-hundred year old monster leading the Enemy, then I’m sure he could round up a squad of Divinities to set forth and cut off the head of the snake, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Aii, such ignorance, such sin.” The Abbot’s visible disappointment is piercing and painful, but I’m sure he’ll lower his standards and will be less disappointed in the future. “You think the Imperial Clan does not already know? Zhen Shi was once an Imperial Scion himself, though the records of his true identity have long since been forgotten by the world at large. This monk has no doubt that the Emperor knows of Zhen Shi’s manipulations, and it is possible the Imperial Clan even has a hand in his actions, so exposing his existence will not be taken kindly. Such is the needless complexity of mundane affairs, so it is best to cleanse yourself of the red dust of the mortal world and focus on the Eight-Fold Path to Nirvana instead.”

Single-minded determination, thy name is Abbot. “I won’t leave my family to fight in my stead. Without force, there is no way you can convince me otherwise.”

Sighing yet again, the Abbot stands and bows. “This monk is overtired and overwrought, so he will not argue the matter tonight. This monk only asks to accompany Junior Brother so we might discuss this at a later date.”

“I’ll have to ask.” Not that I foresee an argument, considering what Mahakala did for me, but somehow I don’t see the decrepit, pacifist Abbot going out to seek vengeance against big poppa piggy. Keeping polite as I bid them farewell, I see Jorani and the Abbot to the door before explaining everything to Mom and Dad. Taduk and Lin have long since fallen asleep, so I quietly wake them both and send them home with Yan and Du Min Gyu before returning to my room. With too many questions swirling around in my head, I know sleep will be a long time coming despite my exhaustion, so I take a seat at my table and pull out the first volume of Zhen Shi’s notes once again.

Now that I know he’s alive, I have even more reason to read his notes, not just in hopes of finding a cure, but also to get into his mind and see how he thinks. Know thine enemy and whatnot, yadda yadda, or at least that’s what I tell myself. Deep down, the truth is, I see yet another beacon of hope ahead, and as horrific as it is, I can’t help but be drawn to the idea like a moth to a flame.

Zhen Shi took over Gen’s body, this much is clear now. What if I can do the same? Am I righteous enough to suffer in this crippled form when I could simply take over a new one?

...I want to say yes, that I can resist temptation, but my actions now tell me I’m not. If I could snatch up a new body, I’ve no doubt I would do it and justify it through crooked logic, but this knowledge is not enough to scare me away. At the very least, knowing how it’s done might teach me how to defend against it, because who knows whose body Zhen Shi will show up in next?

The first of many excuses I’ll make no doubt, but even I don’t believe them, not entirely. I’m sick of being weak, and if given the chance, why shouldn’t I steal Jixing’s body, or even the Legate’s?

Hang on...

Is this why Mahakala told me never to tell anyone, because the Imperial Clan knows it’s possible and fears it will be used against them? Do they know how to do it? If so, are we being ruled by an eternal body snatching monster from antiquity?

As always, a single answer leads to more questions and leaves me as lost as always, but at least now I have hope of finding more answers, though I doubt I’ll like whatever I find.

And yet, I’ll still run headlong towards the unknown. Courage or stupidity, only time will tell.

...

Probably stupidity, but I’m too stubborn to give up. Such is my life, suffering through stupidity without end.

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