Savage Divinity

As the assassin’s blade lances towards my throat, my thoughts are not of panic due to impending death or regret over leaving home unarmed and unarmoured.

Nor am I calm, cool, and collected, using the precious time before impact to formulate a proper, warrior’s response, because quite frankly, I am too slow, weak, and fragile to do anything to stop a Martial Warrior intent on my death, much less an Expert like the man before me. That’s not to say I’ve resigned myself to death either, because while the situation might look dire to some, my enemies have fallen victim to one of the classic blunders.

Never go in against the Undying when death is on the line.

...Also, not all turtles are slow. That’s the important lesson here.

Rearing up with a piercing squeak, Ping Ping emerges from the flowing river like gargantuan beast of myth and snaps up my attacker mid-charge. Gone is the placid, gentle giant who carefully picks her way through crowded city streets, and in her place is a primal force of nature, violence given reptilian flesh with power enough to wreck whole cities if left unchecked. There is no suspense or uncertainty once she acts, only awe and consternation as she seals the audacious assassin’s fate with a crunch of her black, hooked beak. The ground trembles as she clambers up the riverbank with her prize in mouth, an Expert reduced to a broken corpse which she spits at the feet of his peers in undeniable threat. Looming over the remaining two aspiring assassins, she emanates palpable fury and unrestrained violence as human blood dribbles down her beak, silently embodying the age old question, “You dare?”

Meet Ping Ping, the Guardian Turtle of Falling Rain. She might not be as cute and cuddly as the rest of my floofs, but she’s the sweetest, most considerate creature of them all.

Perhaps desperate not to be outdone, Kuang Biao uses the long seconds of distraction to lop off his opponents’ legs, which is good because I’d rather not find out how Ping Ping fares against a readied foe, much less two. “Leave them alive,” I bark, lowering my guarded stance with what I hope is casual disdain. “Good girl, Ping Ping. Love youuuu.”

At the sound of my cutesy appreciation, the violence seeps out of her hulking frame, though she continues to watch the crippled assassins with guarded caution. Given her gentle and genial nature, it’s easy to forget that Ping Ping survived centuries, if not millennia, as a regular, everyday alligator snapping turtle in a world so inhospitable I would categorize it as downright hostile. You don’t become a Spiritual Beast without cracking a few eggs, and Ping Ping has already shown mercy enough by not slaughtering all her foes in the heat of battle. While Guan Suo’s presence and her popularity as Ping Yao’s mascot certainly helped her survive the last century or three, she hasn’t lost much of her edge seeing how she just wrecked an Expert without breaking a sweat. I almost feel bad for the guy. All that hard work and effort to become a warrior near the pinnacle of the Martial Path, and for what? To meet his end at the beak of a Divine Turtle and have his corpse repeatedly battered by an angry, quasi-Spiritual bicorn bunny.

Such waste, such sin.

...

I spend too much time talking to monks. I should fix that.

“Oath-Bound suicide warriors,” Kuang Biao states, keeping his sword at the ready while pinning his opponents’ weapons beneath his boot. “You won’t get any useful information out of them. You should stand back and let me kill them. Never know what tricks they might still have."

Guess you gotta be extra careful with Experts, because you never know if they can control their swords without hands or fire off bolts of Elemental Chi. Heeding Kuang Biao’s advice, I keep him between myself and the assassins while picking up the dead man’s discarded sword, hoping to find some clue regarding his origins or identity. Unfortunately, I’ve never seen a plainer Martial Weapon. Made from a dark, unreflective metal, the thin blade is less than two fingers wide and lacks the heft and length required for a proper hack and slack battlefield weapon, which means it was made with assassination in mind. A thrusting weapon, balanced for throwing and light as a feather too, meaning Kuang Biao’s caution is not unwarranted. It even lacks any markings to denote a craftsman or supplier, with no cross-guard and a plain, unremarkable hilt of raw, untreated bamboo. A quick glance around reveals their discarded sheathes by the riverside, also made from the same material, which I suppose they used to hide their weapons in plain sight as a short cane or gathered firewood.

Damn. These are some quality, professional assassins then, ones trained from the ground up and given assassination Spiritual Weapons. Rules out a crime of opportunity. Someone specifically brought these specialists in and had them follow me out to the farm, where they waited for a moment of distraction before striking. They picked a good one too, while I was kneeling on the riverbank feeding a tiny turtle and weird octopus...

Wait. Where’d Sir Inky go?

A scan of my surroundings fails to reveal the octopus I last saw hanging to my wrist, though it does show Ping Ping was careful to avoid upending the box of shrimp and bucket of crabs. Either utterly oblivious or wholly indifferent to my close brush with death, Pong Pong continues inhaling shrimp at an unbelievable rate, but the perverted octopus is nowhere to be found, neither bobbing in the water nor flailing helplessly somewhere on land, and I can’t help but panic just a little bit. “Sir Inky? You okay?” If he’s hurt, I’ll make these bastards -

Two floating, yellowish eyes appear just inches above the dirt path and Sir Inky slowly fades into existence, his skin returning to its natural hue as he waves his tentacles about. Endearing as it is, he’s not really waving hello, but rather trying to get dirt out of his suction cups or something. Making sure to keep either Ping Ping’s bulk or Kuang Biao’s torso between me and the assassins, I rescue Sir Inky and bring him back to the river to enjoy his crabs in relative peace, which he does after pulling the bucket over his head. While there, I can’t help but shoot Pong Pong a dirty look, because despite being my most expensive pet to feed, he is quite literally only good for eating and shitting. Then again, to be fair, he’s only here because I offered to keep him safe, and not the other way around, and it’s probably better this way since I don’t want anyone to know about his existence, but I’m entitled to be offended by his complete lack of concern with my continued welfare.

I see how it is Pong Pong. Fine. Be that way. I like Ping Ping more anyways.

...I’m sorry, I like you too, cutie. I shouldn’t be mad, you’re just a turtle.

“These assassins,” I ask, pulling out the unmarked sword to study once again. “They Eastern born?”

“Difficult to say.” Brief and to the point, Kuang Biao offers no further explanation until I ask for one point blank. “Their weapons and skill set suggests they were trained as assassins and nothing more. These two are not strong enough to defeat me, but they fought with no consideration for survival and aimed to trade their lives for mine. This was not their initial plan though, because if not for your actions, I would never have noticed their presence before they were ready to strike.”

“Say what now?”

“The stone you threw into the water,” Kuang Biao replies. “There was something off about the ripples. Turns out it was these scoundrels moving out of the way.” His tone holds more than a hint of curiosity, but he refrains from asking outright, which is good because I’m just as confused as him. I just thought those shadows looked... shady. How many times have I accidentally seen through someone’s Concealment? First Mahakala, then those wraiths, after that was Kukku, and now these murder-mooks. Do I have some sort of anti-Concealment Talent? Even if I did, how am I powering it without Chi? Also, how does this fit with my Dao? I mean, if anything, my Dao would be more conducive to Concealment, on account of my desperate need to go invisible during social events and my dark desire to peep on beautiful women while they bathe.

Whatever. Ponder later. “Either of you care to talk?” I ask, hoping they’re the sort who are unhappy with their current employer. “I’m a merciful man. If you’ve made Oaths to keep silent, there are always ways to work around that. Just because you can’t tell me who sent you doesn’t mean you can’t point me in the right direction. Like, do your Oaths restrict you from telling me which province you hail from? Or describing what sort of work the local commoners are known for?” I need to know if they’re Imperially-trained assassins or if they were sent by a cats-paw. The former means big danger which I’ll need the Legate’s help to deal with, while Dad can probably handle the latter by himself.

After a few seconds of silence, Kuang Biao says, “They won’t answer. Won’t even tend to their own wounds. One’s passed out already.”

Damn it. “End it.” Kuang Biao’s sword cuts through the air with a distinct, metallic hum, then severs through flesh and bone with similar ease. The sound repeats as he makes sure the assassins are all dead before returning to my side, but he has yet to let down his guard. “Best we leave now and head for the Citadel,” he advises, while trying to keep an eye on everything around him. “No telling if they were the only group sent here to kill you, and I’d rather not give others more time to set up an ambush.”

So much for a relaxing day out at the farm. Grabbing Pong Pong’s box with the little turtle still inside, I hesitate for a moment before bringing Sir Inky in his bucket as well. I doubt it’s the most comfortable means of transportation around, but I’ll move him into a pot or something and bring him home with me. So far, people have been pretty direct with their assassination attempts, but sooner or later, someone is bound to try and use my beloved floofs against me.

Even though I know Lin-Lin has Guard Leader there with her, I still breathe a sigh of relief when I spot her from across the field. Having already ordered Kuang Biao to relay the situation, Guard Leader stands poised and ready to fight alongside several of her similarly dressed subordinates, while Lin-Lin gathers up the floofs and gives away her kites, a cheerful and generous soul who is visibly sad to disappoint the farm kids she promised to take rickshaw racing. Honestly, it’s probably for the best, because that shit is ridiculously dangerous. Picking up my pace, I hurry over and drop off Sir Inky and Pong Pong while doing my best to appear nonchalant. “Sorry kids,” I say, while silently signalling at the parents to bring their children away before they get caught in the crossfire. “There’s been a hay spill up the road and the Bun-Bun Brigade have been called in to clean up. We’ll be back another time soon.” Hopefully.

Gathering up all the animals is a long and arduous process, mostly because Sarankho and Baloo seem to think it’s all a big game of keep away. Normally, I’d just leave and let them follow, but considering the circumstances, that’s not really an option, so I fight off my growing panic and try my best to tempt the temperamental kitten and headstrong bear into the rickshaw alongside the rest of their floof siblings. During the assassination attempt itself I was calm as could be, but chasing down my animals during this possible life and death emergency has worn me down to my last nerve. It’s the uncertainty of it all which sends adrenaline coursing through my veins, with both mind and body unsure if we need to fight, flee, or do nothing at all. The more worked up I get, the worse off I am, because my body interprets this stress and anxiety as a cue to panic and freak out, which is the last thing I need right now, I give up and send Kuang Biao in to grab them, which he does none-too-gently, much to my chagrin. I have no one to blame but myself though, because it was my frustration which drove me to this, so I set to consoling the spooked Sarankho and smoothing poor Baloo’s wounded ego while Mafu and Zabu pull my rickshaw back to the bamboo grove.

Once there, I can breathe a little easier with all my Death Corps guards around me, but then my wifey brings up a pertinent issue which I didn’t consider before now. “We can’t interrupt her now,” she says, tugging at my arm to keep me from waking Mila. “What if she’s in the midst of Insight?”

Shit. Thankfully, Guard Leader answers for me, having already taken things into account. “Leave them be,” she says, wrapping an arm around Lin-Lin’s waist and hefting her like a sack of rice. “I sent word to the Citadel, so you will wait inside until an escort arrives.”

Then Guard Leader disappears, and I’m left standing outside the grove with all my pets and no one to bring us in. Glancing at Kuang Biao, who as far as I can tell is the only Death Corps Guard capable of Cloud Stepping, I sigh and abandon all thoughts of asking him to make multiple trips to ferry us over. He’s the strongest person I can command, and knowing Guard Leader’s attitude, I’ll probably have to depend on him to keep me safe while everyone else looks after Lin-Lin. I can’t say I particularly mind, considering I do want Lin to be safe, but I also want Mila, Yan, Song, and Luo-Luo to be protected as well.

Luckily, this time around Yan left her sword in its sheath, so I carefully guide the animals in one by one to make sure they don’t bother the meditating ladies. It’s difficult, especially since Sarankho desperately wants to cuddle Song and Baloo wants to do the same with Mila, but after enlisting help from Sorya and Anrhi, we eventually get all the animals safe and sound inside Taduk’s garden, aside from the quins who I left unharnessed outside with Ping Ping and the Death Corps guards to watch over them.

Honestly, I would’ve stayed out there with them if not for Kuang Biao’s insistence, but it’s only a matter of time before my enemies grow a brain and send someone with a longbow to snipe me from afar. It’d have to be a master marksman, but if they put an arrow in the right spot, it doesn’t matter even if Taduk is standing directly beside me. You can’t Heal Death, and bows are damn good at delivering it.

Neither Taduk nor Lin-Lin seem particularly concerned about the attempt on my life, just relieved I made it out alright and annoyed their trip to the farm will be cut short out of necessity. Honestly, the lack of awareness in both of them is off-putting to say the least, as if neither one realizes that another attempt on my life would put their lives in danger as well. Taduk is already grumbling about losing his seeds to some pest, while Lin-Lin is busy playing word games with the twin handmaidens, who are understandably apprehensive while they clutch Baloo and Sarankho close. I’m not saying I want Taduk and Lin-Lin to be scared too, but sometimes I feel like half-hare brains don’t work on the same wave-length as everyone else’s.

Still love them both to bits though. Wouldn’t change them for the world.

With time to think now that we’re all more or less safe, I soon grow bored watching the rabbits explore their fenced enclosure. Heading over to the exit, I check on Yan and find her still meditating before glancing around the mysterious bamboo enclosed path. It makes for a lovely ambience, in a woodsy, backwater sort of way, but there’s nothing Divine or otherworldly about it. With nothing better to do, I sit down and cross my legs to see what all the fuss is about, but after long minutes of silence, I’m unable to find the peace and tranquility which comes from mundane meditation, much less the torrential rush of Heavenly Energy urging me to struggle and surrender. I didn’t expect it to work, but it’s still disappointing, so I lean against a bamboo stalk and retreat into my thoughts instead.

My Dao.

Is all sorts of fucked up.

How’d I notice those assassins? It couldn’t have been luck, because I am never lucky. Come to think of it, how’d I land on my feet after Kuang Biao tossed me aside? That was an act of acrobatic mastery, if I do say so myself, but I can barely even do a cartwheel now, much less...

Wait.

I’m not crippled anymore. I can totally do a cartwheel.

I’m an idiot. I’ve been stuck in the mindset that no Chi equals worthless cripple, and while that was true at one point, ever since the whole ‘Instinctive Balance’ debacle in Sinuji, I’ve been about as healthy as an average person. I still sleep more than I used to, but it’s hard not to considering I used to function on four hours a day, but otherwise, I’m in peak physical condition, able to lift one or two bunnies, walk up five flights of stairs, do simple flips through the air, and have fun times with friends.

So the big question is, now that I’m not crippled anymore, can I Demonstrate the Forms?

Okay two questions: If I can, will there be any benefit?

With no time like the present to find out, I hop to my feet and find an unoccupied corner of the garden to begin testing, but although my mind is ready, my body is cowardly and unwilling. The Forms aren’t just a bunch of fancy movements done for the sake of calisthenics, there’s a genuine, mystical force behind it which I have yet to understand. Ignoring the whole Insight aspect and learning how to fight, the Forms also help build up our physical bodies to withstand the infusion of Heavenly Energy which comes from meditation. As Dad put it, the stronger the body, the more Heavenly Energy it can absorb, and the more Heavenly Energy absorbed, the more powerful the warrior. That’s why Martial Warriors consume three times more food than your average commoner, and also why so many of them grow to herculean proportions.

The problem is, what if food isn’t the only thing that fuels this process? I’m almost positive there’s an element of Heavenly Energy at work here, else Martial Warriors would only have to bulk up to become more powerful. It doesn’t work like that though, because Mila and Wu Gam are some of the strongest people I know in my age group, yet neither one is particularly tall or muscular. Mila has an athletic build, but she’s no musclebound ‘roid monster, while Wu Gam is slender and dare I say, svelte, like a poncy elf with the strength of a minotaur. Yea, their Blessings probably have something to do with their prodigious might, but I’ve also seen Wang Bao wrestle much larger foes to the ground in tests of pure strength, not to mention GangShu’s no taller than Jorani and almost as thin, yet is capable of sending big Demon Pudge flying with a swat of his hand, sans blessing mind you.

Plus, there’s BoShui’s growth spurt at the age of twenty-five, which should’ve been impossible, but everyone else seems to think is normal...

What I’m getting at is that bigger does not equal stronger. There are small, lean Martial Warriors who can match larger warriors in pure strength, which means there’s something else going on in the background. Normally, this wouldn’t matter, because the extra ingredient fuelling this growth and strength is easily available to meditating Martial Warriors. However, I am not your typical Martial Warrior. I have a shattered Core and cannot draw upon the Energy of the Heavens, not in the usual way, so there’s a very real possibility that Demonstrating the Forms will cause me to overtax my body.

I didn’t come up with this idea out of nowhere. Back in Sinuji, I had a whole cadre of Healers studying my body, and none of them could find a valid cause for my physical infirmity, so it stands to reason I somehow fixed myself by Devouring Demon Ichor and turning it into Heavenly Energy, which somehow counteracts whatever is crippling me. Thus, there’s a good chance I’ll eventually burn through my reserves of Heavenly Energy and go back to being a frail cripple again, a process which might be hastened along if I were to Demonstrate the Forms.

So what do I do now? Should I give it a try? I’m supposed to show the world I’m healthy again during this banquet at the Central Citadel, so I’m pretty sure the Legate will have me snuffed out if I go full cripple again. Assuming he wasn’t already trying to have me killed with today’s assassination attempt. Shit.

Taking a seat next to Taduk, I lean into his embrace and explain my worries, and he listens through the entire spiel without interrupting, only to sit in silent contemplation for long minutes after I’m done. Then, with a twist of his lips and a childish grimace, he throws his hands into the air and says, “Bah. Rain my boy, your teacher is useless in this regard.” Shrugging in apologetic embarrassment, he adds, “You see, I always thought the Forms were a bunch of hand-waving, foot stretching nonsense.”

“...Me too.” Though disappointed he doesn’t have the answers I need, his forthright honesty puts a smile on my face. “Still kinda do, if I’m being honest. Never really understood how it worked.” After thinking it through some more, my smile melts away and I ask, “Are you saying you became a Medical Saint without learning the Forms? How? Is that even possible?”

With another shrug, Taduk asks, “Why wouldn’t it be? You think your little turtle friend sets aside an hour each morning to stretch and meditate? Does the eagle study the tiger to learn how to hunt? Or the deer copy the snake to run? No Rain my boy. The Martial Dao is not the only path to power, it is merely the means through which Martial Warriors explore the Dao. Understand?”

“Yes. No.” Scratching my head as comprehension escapes me, I lean back to study my teacher once more. If what he’s saying is true, then that means he’s far more impressive than he lets on. We all forge our own Martial Dao, but at least we have the same familiar milestones to aim for. For Taduk to reach such heights after embarking down his own Dao, that’s... incredible. Unbelievable, even. How did he do it? Can I do the same? Should I even try?

No. Definitely not. I’m having enough trouble following the established Dao, loosely defined as it might be. I’ll never get anywhere if I have to figure out all the rules by myself.

Still, it’s something to consider. The Dao is everything, and the Martial Dao merely a means to explore it, which means...

Fuck all, for all I know. Whatever. After Central, I’ll test out the Forms. Or maybe I’ll talk to Dad and see if he can start a Demon capture and delivery service or something. This would be a whole lot easier if the Abbot, Guan Suo, and GangShu came back. So many wasted opportunities. If I’d known they were Divinities, I would’ve asked Guan Suo and the Abbot so many more questions. It’d be nice to hear what a tried and true Divinity thinks about my current problems, but they probably have more concerning issues to deal with right now.

Seriously though... when both participants can destroy cities with a wave of their hands, how does a fight drag on for days, much less weeks? Probably a lot of hiding and lurking about, would be my guess, a giant game of cat and mouse, except both have giant, world-ending lasers strapped to their heads.

... Best of luck, Abbot, Guan Suo, and GangShu. May the Mother do a better job watching over you than She’s done with me.

Chapter Meme