Savage Divinity

The new Legate died, and what followed after was a tragic comedy of errors.

Despite standing right in the thick of things and experiencing the events firsthand, Binesi could neither make heads nor tails of the jumbled situation, and he hoped the historians wouldn’t bungle the job too badly in their hamfisted attempts to apply logic and reasoning to this preposterous chain of events. Two things were for certain though: today’s history would be written in blood, and there would be no victors in the Empire.

Still reeling from witnessing the death of one Scion, Binesi cursed at the elder Scion who appeared moments too late to save Jixing, but all too perfectly timed to add oil to the fire. What reason did this old fart have to accuse Rain of rebellion? The boy risked his life approaching the Death Corps alone and unguarded in hopes of resolving this conflict without bloodshed, and any reasonable person would have accepted defeat. Now, a single Wraith and an incompetent guardian ruined all of Rain’s hard work in an instant, and Binesi was angrier with the Scion because someone as old as he should at least know better. Because of his foolish, feckless screeching, Death Corps and Imperial Warriors alike were charging forward to fight instead of watching for subsequent Wraith attacks. Ever the hero, the Colonel General was already moving to intercept, his weapon hanging at his side so as not to convey the wrong message, and for this, he paid the ultimate price.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, but to Binesi, this singular moment stretched out into an eternity. Frozen in place and helpless to act, his heart skipped as dozens of Wraiths appeared the moment the first sounds of battle rang out, having taken full advantage of Rain and Jixing’s verbal exchange to sneak in amongst the crowds of Concealed spectators. This was a target-rich environment if there ever was one, and Binesi’s first reaction was not to parry the poisoned Wraith dagger plummeting towards him from just at the edge of his periphery, but to get in position to defend the Colonel General, who was alone and exposed up on the stage. The Enemy couldn’t have picked a worse time to act, for Binesi and the rest of the Colonel General’s guard were all standing in plain view, taking their cue from the Colonel General to reveal themselves and lend their support to Falling Rain’s proposal to have the Imperial brat Jixing stand trial on grounds of incompetence. As mere guards, they couldn’t well take the stage with the Colonel General either, so while he was standing within arm’s reach in an elevated position, a centimetre short was no different from a metre short when it came to matters of life and death.

Despite anticipating an attack, both the Colonel General and Binesi underestimated their foe’s speed and strength, for it was no Peak Expert Wraith who appeared, but the Bloody Confessor himself, looking resplendent with his perfect features despite being covered from head to toe in unrecognizable filth. His hooked sword flashed through the air and for a moment, Binesi almost celebrated the Colonel General’s quick escape, until he saw the first droplets of blood burst out in a spray of crimson mist. The Wraith’s dagger thudding into Binesi’s shoulder almost felt like an afterthought, the physical pain nothing compared to his inner turmoil as he watched Living Legend Nian Zu breathe his last. The pain gave way to anger, anger to wrath, so Binesi left the owner of the dagger to die on Yukun’s spear and charged the hated Confessor with unbridled ferocity.

Even as he attacked, he knew it was a mistake. This was not what the Colonel General would have wanted. He was a man of the people, and if he had but one breath of life left in him, he would have gladly wasted it in a futile attempt to convince the Imperial Scion to cease hostilities and rein the Bekhai back in. Alas, Binesi was not the Colonel General. Though a loyal man of the Empire, he was not built for command and held the rank of Major without having ever commanded a single soldier in battle, unless it was command by proxy. No, he was a simple mountain warrior who pledged his loyalty and allegiance not to the Emperor, not to the Bekhai, not to the Imperial Clan or Army, but to a single man who saw the potential in a young, wild warrior from the mountains and gave him the help and guidance he so sorely needed. In return, Binesi swore to follow the Colonel General into the Father’s Maw itself if need be, but now, this was no longer possible.

Shooting Star Nian Zu, the guardian of the North, the Hero of the Wall, and the idol of three generations was dead, so Binesi would avenge his hero even if it meant the Empire had to burn for it.

He was not alone in his thoughts, and though he stood closest to the Colonel General’s position, Clearsky Bao beat Binesi to the punch, howling in abject denial as his signature blue-steel sabre lanced towards Goujian’s chest amidst a booming clap of thunder. A swarthy, heavyset man, Clearsky’s plump build belied the dazzling speed and inhuman agility which earned him his title, for no matter the weather, it was all Clear Skies for big Bao, the fastest man in all the North who travelled high above the clouds and left naught but thunder in his wake. The Clearsky Sabre met with hooked sword, and credit where credit was due, Goujian responded with a textbook parry, slapping the sabre aside with frightening precision and unholy strength. Despite having the full force of a horizontal Cloud-Step behind it, Clearsky Bao found himself batted aside like a ragdoll by his deceptively strong foe and immediately lost the initiative. It was a mistake to go in so hot, but Binesi could forgive his comrade in arms, because if not for Clearsky’s speed, Binesi would have been the one to suffer the consequences.

Which, as it turned out, was a shoulder check which caved Clearsky’s chest in with an audible crack and sent his corpse sailing back into the crowd.

Though horrified at the ease with which Goujian dealt with his comrade, Binesi’s righteous fury allowed no room for hesitation as he struck at the Confessor’s exposed back, whereupon he experienced the inexplicable strength of his foe for himself. The Colonel General had cautioned them to be wary of Goujian’s physical prowess, but there were no words to describe the vast disparity between his perceived and actual strength. The Confessor was no wilting violet, a tall, slim, willowy Martial Warrior rather than a hulking, musclebound one, but even the errant force of a rushed parry was enough to set Binesi’s teeth to shaking, as if he’d just been hit by a moving mountain travelling faster than the eye could follow. Wielding his hooked sword like a paper prop, Goujian flourished it in a dazzling display of speed, finesse, and control to test Binesi’s defences, and even the slightest touch of their weapons left his hands numb and muscles strained. Once, twice, thrice, a dozen times they traded blows, and each time Binesi thought his end was nigh, but despite holding the upper hand, the Confessor fought using measured strokes and deliberate caution, his lower body locked in place as he twisted and contorted his upper torso to avoid pivoting or shuffling about.

Again, the Colonel General’s warnings came to mind, and Binesi made sure to share his findings. “His feet,” he called, and Yukun responded to the call, his signature Singing Spear warbling as it rippled through the air like a sinuous snake. In response, Goujian’s lower body rippled as well, seemingly moving left then appearing on the right to avoid Yukun’s attack, and again, Binesi responded in kind. “Partial Concealment,” he shouted, knowing Yukun and the others knew enough to pick up on the warning, but just to be safe, he Sent, “His hands and feet will lie, so watch his shoulders and hips for warning.”

Giving Binesi a brief look warning him not to teach his grandmother to suck eggs, Yukun fluttered above the stage and neatly trapped the Confessor between them, one attacking from high and the other, low. Immovable Binesi and Singing Spear Shi Yukun, how the common folk did so love to compare them, solely because they were the two most prominent spear users of the Famed Fifty. It didn’t matter that their styles were polar opposites and their weapons differed in almost every way save for name, they were spear users and that was the end of that. In truth, it was like comparing a wolf and a tiger, two predators who hunted in vastly differing ways. Binesi favoured standing his ground and using his advantage of reach against his foes, whilst Yukun’s spear was shorter and more flexible which combined with his flowing aerial movements allowed him to strike from unexpected angles, especially if the opponent expected the Singing Spear to behave like a regular spear.

Goujian most certainly didn’t, which showed he’d done his research, again aiming for the tip of the spear rather than the bendable shaft to avoid its flexible serpentine bite. An uncanny feat of vision and precision to track the winding, deceptive weapon in time to execute a textbook parry, but the Confessor was still human yet. Eager to take advantage of his foe’s distraction, Binesi shifted his grip to the end of his spear and slashed out in fair approximation of one of Yukun’s attacks, a diagonal, downward swing which whistled as it cut through the air. Again, Goujian targeted the spear’s tip to take advantage of his leverage, but despite his prodigious strength, the hasty parry was only enough to shift the spear’s horizontal momentum. So focused on countering Yukun’s unique attacks, Goujian failed to account for their different weapon types, because while a flexible weapon like the Singing Spear would condense and contract on impact, Binesi’s spear was thirty kilograms of solid steel and was not be so easily stopped. Following through with his swing, he poured all his effort into Reinforcement and Amplification as he drove it home for a nice, meaty smack on his hated foe’s shoulder.

Only for his powerful attack, one capable of shattering a stack of fifteen steel plates, to bounce harmlessly off of the Confessor’s filthy Runic robes and shift him sideways a half step.

Since when did Runic gear become so commonplace? These days it felt like every other Defiled bastard was kitted out in Runic armour, and now the Confessor even had a set of Runic robes? Unremarkable looking ones at that, and filthier than beggar’s rags, but so sturdy the Confessor barely even noticed the attack, though part of this was due to the old bastard’s deceptively powerful frame. Snarling with rage, Binesi abandoned deceit and subtlety in favour of overwhelming power, drawing his spear back and thrusting out with all his might at centre mass, putting the full weight of his body and adding in a powerful Amplified step to further increase his power. The spear lanced out and landed with a peal of thunder as the ground crumbled away beneath his boot, and there was no slipping aside for Goujian, not this time. While the Runic robes stopped the Honed spear from skewering him, the Confessor doubled over with a strangled grunt as his feet lifted off the stage for the first time since he stepped foot upon it.

Though merely a passable swordsman and mediocre duellist, the Confessor was a top-rate cockroach and not so easy to kill. Rather than resisting Binesi’s thrust, which would have seen his throat pierced by Yukun’s Singing Spear, Goujian surrendered to the flow and let the attack push him away to freedom, whereupon he Concealed himself and slipped away to hide in the massed, sprawling melee. Bekhai and Death Corps were locked in bitter combat all across the plaza, almost shoulder to shoulder save for a single noticeable gaping hole where Speaker Sarnai was currently unleashing all her pent up frustrations on the poor former Royal Guardian, Kuang Biao, while Falling Rain’s repeated calls to stand down fell on deaf ears. Young and talented he might be, Kuang Biao was no match for the Speaker’s fury as she beat her foe black and blue with frightening glee, reminding Binesi of an old joke the mountain people often told once they were certain the Speaker was well out of earshot. Baatar loved Sarnai not for her beauty, stunning though she might be, but because her predatory smile and fierce personality appealed to the animal in him, a proper she-wolf for the Bloody-Fanged Wolf within.

A joke in poor taste all things considered, but the infuriating woman actually took pride in the rumours, though Binesi always thought her more Dragon than wolf.

His thoughts slipping, he resisted the Wraith poison coursing through his veins and the urge to lean on his spear and rest, for there was still work to be done. In the brief time spent searching for his hated foe, Binesi realized the Bekhai were still holding back, mostly because Kuang Biao still drew breath despite facing off against a superior and famously ruthless opponent. All around the plaza, the Khishigs were disabling the Death Corps wherever they could and killing only when left with no other option. The Wraiths were not so fortunate however, all picked off and killed save for two locked in combat with Akanai, virtually mirror images of the Wraith who killed Jixing right down to the flowing Western robes. Good to see that the Bekhai had not completely lost their minds yet, no doubt thanks to Falling Rain’s pleas, but Binesi feared the worst for his fellow mountain dwellers. There were plenty of politicians and opportunists who would be more than happy to bring the Bekhai down a peg or two. No doubt their Warriors were already gathering in force, egged on by the hateful Situ Rang Min, who was probably dancing with glee now that there was no Nian Zu to oppose him.

The fires of rage rekindled in his chest, Binesi roared in wordless threat at the offending Bekhai and Death Corps standing in his way. The Khishigs were quick to recognize the threat and move aside, but the Death Corps less so, since they were Oath-bound to carry out the idiot Scion’s orders. Sweeping the offending Warriors out of his way, Binesi found his voice and bellowed, “Coward Confessor! Come out and face Binesi!” With nothing to strike at, he unleashed his frustrations against the ground itself, slamming his spear down and shattering cobblestone tiles to reveal the foundation underneath, which had the unfortunate side effect of knocking the closest Death Corps guards off their feet. A mistake, not because it expended his strength or left him open to counterattack, but because by attacking the Death Corps, he became a viable target, and they were now compelled to kill him on orders of the Imperial idiot watching from on high. The dark-armoured warriors fell upon him without fear or hesitation, their attacks coordinated with deadly intent, and he soon found himself surrounded on all sides with no one to aid him. Cursing his stupidity, Binesi couldn’t help but admire the Bekhai fortitude for facing these fearless, unyielding Warriors without blinking while also handicapping themselves to avoid killing. Not many could do the same with any measure of success, but Binesi would not let himself be outdone, so he limited himself to cracking heads and breaking limbs while scolding the idiot up above. “You! The old dog-shit Imperial with his head stuck up his ass! Call off your fucking hounds before I come up there and make you!”

Hardly the most diplomatic request, but there was a good reason Nian Zu rarely asked Binesi to deliver his messages.

A familiar cry rang out from beside him, and Binesi turned to see Yukun struggling to keep Goujian’s hooked sword from sinking into his chest, the Singing Spear bent like a horseshoe with the sword caught in between. Three fingers flew away from Yukun’s left hand, a small price to pay for trapping the Confessor in place, but alas, Binesi’s distraction meant he was in no position to follow up.

Han BoHai made no such mistake however, hurtling out of the skies like a stone launched from a catapult and landing with the same effect. Whereas Binesi’s tantrum shattered cobblestones, BoHai’s entrance sent stone and dirt exploding in all directions as he cratered the ground beneath his fist, only scant centimetres from connecting as the hateful Confessor gracefully flipped aside to avoid the attack and free his weapon from the Singing Spear in one fell swoop. Grinning like a fox, he delivered a powerful kick to the kneeling BoHai and sent him careening back into the crowd, but the Confessor’s joy was short-lived as his grin turned into a grimace. A pool of blood formed beneath his mangled foot, proving that his shoes were not Runic in nature and merely mundane cloth, while BoHai landed lightly less than ten meters away, his spiked Spiritual Gauntlets dripping with the blood of his foe. Even then, there was no satisfaction on the stony Warrior’s face, his expression cold and unreadable to all save for those who knew him best. “Years ago, you took my daughter from me,” the Major General growled, his eyes unblinking as he squared off against the Confessor. “Now you’ve taken my brother-in-arms. This ends now, traitor.” Clanging his metallic fists together in an ear-shattering chime, the burly, towering Warrior said no more as he charged forward into a flurry of Goujian’s attacks, meeting each blow head on with a punch of his own and going head to head with a monster in human flesh.

This clash of titans overwhelmed all the other Warriors exchanging blows in the plaza, and as if by mutual agreement, they all shifted out of the way. Much like with Sarnai and Kuang Biao, there was no one within twenty meters of BoHai and the Confessor, and the two made full use of the space allotted to them. Opportunistic as always, Goujian kept to the edges and used the threat of killing Bekhai or Death Corps to force BoHai to meet his attacks, and the stalwart Major General was happy to oblige. Fist and sword met in a flurry of blows and the repeated impacts so deafening it was painful to listen to, but neither combatant seemed bothered in the slightest. As they danced about their duelling grounds, Binesi was struck by the conflicting inconsistencies between the two warriors, with bearish BoHai fluttering about like a weightless hummingbird, complete with fists and feet moving so quickly they were little more than a blur, while slim and compact Goujian moved with purposeful restraint and almost comical sluggishness in comparison, like a large man carefully making his way in a world of fragile glass. Despite using partial Concealment to hide the movements of his limbs, it was clear Goujian was carefully deciding each step well in advance, and this did not escape BoHai’s notice. No need to track your opponent’s movements when he made them so easy to predict, and the Major General took full advantage of this to land several big hits, aiming for Goujian’s exposed hands, face, and throat which were unprotected by his Runic armour.

Scant seconds passed and dozens of exchanges went by before Binesi realized his mistake. It wasn’t that BoHai was aiming for those targets because they were exposed, but rather that those were the only viable targets for him to attack. Blood seeped out from under the Major General’s boots and gauntlets, his skin cracking and bones breaking from this heated exchange, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at his hardened expression. This was a man whose heart was gripped by blazing hot rage and mind locked in a prison of cold logic, one with a tenuous hold on Balance and desperate to keep it. Driven by purpose, retribution, and love, the valiant BoHai fought on, but still this was not enough. The Confessor was simply too physically strong to easily defeat, and only his innate restrictions, mediocre speed, and middling swordsmanship kept him from overwhelming victory.

To think... not one year ago, Han BoDing defeated the Confessor with barely any effort, and the Han Patriarch’s strength couldn’t be too far off form BoHai’s, else one of the feuding brothers would have long since killed the other...

Cursing himself for a fool the second time, Binesi stopped gawking at the duel and focused on dealing with the Death Corps trying to kill him, all while resisting the Wraith poison dulling his speed, power, and reactions. The impediment made it an uphill struggle to free himself from the press of Death Corps and lend a hand to the Major General, especially since despite his obvious efforts to spare his opponents, the dark-armoured Warriors showed no gratitude for his mercy and offered no quarter in return, their black-steel halberds working in concert to push him to his limits. Soon, it became a question of his life or theirs, and reluctant as Binesi was to kill Death Corps Warriors, he was even more unwilling to lay down and die. Resigning himself to whatever might come, he brushed aside a wave of attacks and drew back for a wide, retaliatory swing which would see a good half-dozen Death Corps dead.

Only to stop short as an airborne Death Corps Guard crashed into Binesi’s assailants and sent them tumbling away.

“Tch.” Sucking her teeth as she appeared at his side, Speaker Sarnai casually brushed her bangs out of her eyes and glanced over his wounds, utterly unfazed by the chaos while he panted and heaved for breath. Though almost three decades his senior, Binesi could see why Baatar was so enamoured by his prickly wife, even affectionately calling her his ‘mountain rose’, for she was a handsome woman even now in the twilight of her life. “I met your wife once, during a meeting between the villages,” she began, grimacing as she delivered a sharp blow with the butt of her spear to knock poor, battered Kuang Biao out. “A real shrew of a taskmistress. I imagine I would never hear the end of it if I let you die on my watch, so be a dear and stand somewhere safe so I can focus on what’s important.”

The odd mixture of motherly concern and casual disdain defeated Binesi before he could even think to retaliate, and he could do naught but watch the confident Bekhai Warrior stride towards BoHai and the Confessor with singular purpose. “Be ready,” she said, to no one in particular, but the intended recipient was no doubt listening, as were the two duelling titans. Their battle even sped up another notch, to Binesi’s profound amazement, for he could not believe that both Warriors still had more to give. Having noticed her approach, BoHai was desperately fighting to offer Sarnai an opening while Goujian was trying to end things before he presented one, and every exchange felt like it could be the last as they clashed again and again with reckless abandon.

As for Sarnai... she tucked her spear into the crook of her arm and leaned it against her shoulder, all but putting aside the weapon for focus on her empty hand.

No... not empty, for contained within her elegant fingers was enough Chi to distort the light itself, twinkling in the palm of her cupped hands like countless shards of glass. “Now,” she uttered, and cast her hand out towards Goujian. Sensing danger, he gathered his strength to leap aside, but even though he began before she even uttered her words, it was already too late as those shards of Chi tore into his exposed ankles and rendered both feet to a mangled pulp. Almost simultaneously, a tiny hole inexplicably appeared in the Confessor’s forehead, no wider than a finger, and in Binesi’s State of Enlightenment, he watched that tiny wound explode from inside the traitor’s skull and send a fountain of bone and brain matter spurting out the entry wound.

Only then did a thunderclap follow, one in a different timbre from those produced by Clear Sky’s steps or BoHai’s fists and emanating from elsewhere in the citadel. When Binesi tracked the sound back to it’s source, he found the Imperial Servant’s head clerk kneeling on a rooftop almost half a kilometre away, wielding one of those strange, hollow-shafted weapons a few of Falling Rain’s Warrior’s carried, and judging from the explosive results, Binesi made note to treat them with even more respect than he gave the Khishig longbows.

For a moment, Binesi’s heart soared as the Confessor’s howl of pain and fury stopped short and his body crashed to the ruined ground, but then he shook off the killing blow, twisted in place, and somehow avoided a direct strike from BoHai’s fist, one meant to leave no doubt as to the Confessor’s fate. Though the serrated edges made a mess of his once perfect face, even this was not enough to put Goujian down as he abandoned his sword altogether and lashed out with fist and foot from his supine position. Not expecting a counterattack from such awkward posture, the Major General took both attacks directly to the chest and Binesi feared BoHai would meet the same fate as Clearsky, but fortunately, the Han Clan took better care of their exiles than the Situ Clan and BoHai’s Runic breastplate held firm, though Binesi was certain the Major General suffered more than a few bruised ribs as he was sent crashing back into the crowd of Khishigs and Death Corps with a boom of steel and stone.

Despite their minor victories, the Imperials paid a heavy price to bring Goujian low, with Nian Zu and Clearsky Bao dead, while Shi Yukun and Han BoHai were injured and likely out of commission. Even the injuries seemed like too dear a price, and Binesi mourned the loss of his comrade and commander, but he was determined to put an end to the Confessor himself.

Except once again, he was too slow.

Ever since marrying his beloved Asane and adopting two beautiful sons, Binesi had never once held firm to any delusions of grandeur. Yes, he was a Peak Expert, one of Nian Zu’s Famed Fifty, a warrior of renown known all across the Empire, but only because of his affiliation with the Living Legend. Peak Expert was merely another step along the Martial Path, denoting one had mastered all the tools needed to push further ahead, so there were bound to be vast differences in strengths among them. There were those who stood at the pinnacle like the Colonel General, Akanai, or the likes of Mitsue Juichi and Shuai Jiao. Then there were those who seemed fated to join them, like Sarnai and Baatar, BoHai and BoDing, and yes, even those promising talents like Gerel and Kuang Biao, but Binesi didn’t belong in that hallowed group. He had no Talent or Blessing, no gift for command or combat. He was a standard Peak Expert with nothing to separate him from the rest, a glorified guard whose sole purpose on the battlefield was to ensure Nian Zu’s safety because Peak Expert was as high as he would ever climb, the limit imposed upon him by his natural talent and lacking comprehension. There were geniuses, and then there was Binesi, whose claim to fame was not defeating said geniuses, but standing firmly against them. Hence his title, the Immovable, a man whose strength was good enough to test those supreme talents, but not enough to surpass them.

There was nothing wrong with knowing and accepting one’s limits, for limits were made to be broken, but Binesi never thought Situ Jia Yang would be one to surpass his own.

Appearing on stage in a blur of motion, the once-disgraced Lieutenant General swung his heavy sabre with both hands and severed Goujian’s hand from his wrist, the sabre’s keening cry drowning out the traitor’s pained howl. Unwilling to admit defeat, the Confessor fought like a cornered beast, scrambling around on three bleeding stumps while screaming indistinct obscenities at his foe, but Jia Yang stood unperturbed by the animalistic madness on full display and fought with singular purpose and focus. Utilizing his Domain to veritably glide across the battlefield in the epitome of grace and dexterity, Jia Yang’s sabre spun and twirled in a never-ending storm of slashing attacks as he hunted down his scrambling foe, never quite managing to land a killing blow yet always close enough to exact a price in blood and flesh from the Confessor’s exposed limbs. Despite Jia Yang’s best efforts, the Confessors wounds were Healing with uncanny speed, feet and hand regrowing before Binesi’s eyes as Goujian receded and the Father revealed His foul influence hidden deep within, devolving from handsome, relatable, and perhaps even charismatic rebel to reveal the savage, raging Defiled behind the curtains. Stark though the contrast might be, the Confessor’s strength improved by leaps and bounds as those measured movements gave way to unhinged frenzy which tested the limits of human endurance and flexibility, his body moving in bizarre ways man was never meant to emulate. Joints popped, bones cracked, and muscles tore as the Confessor sped up, shifting about on all fours and lashing out with clawed hands and bared teeth like a beast in human skin, one so ferocious even Nian Zu or Akanai might have difficultly keeping him contained.

As for Jia Yang? Binesi’s peer who would never care to admit it? The laughable Situ clansman who tried so hard to ride Nian Zu’s coattails and pouted when his Hero didn’t give him special attention? The stuck up, arrogant punching bag who thought so highly of himself despite his long list of disgraceful defeats? The idiot coward who thought killing rebel farmers and tainted villagers in Central meant he would be treated with respect by true Northern Warriors, men and women who earned their rank killing battle-hardened Defiled and Demons?

That Jia Yang fended Goujian off with almost casual ease, his weapon moving in hypnotizing circles as it smashed into his foe time and time again. With every pass of his ‘Dragon’ sabre, it emitted a ghostly metallic howl as it cut through the air, and Binesi was brought back to the tender years of his youth. Oh how they all made fun of Jia Yang when he first showed off that pompous weapon, calling it a showpiece more suited for the stage than the battlefield, but hearing it now in the hands of a competent Warrior, Binesi fought hard to keep from shuddering at the sound of its mournful, piercing cry. This was Situ Jia Yang, a man Binesi always scorned as a weakling and looked down on as a dog-shit commander, showing the Empire that he was, in fact, one of the greatest Warriors of his generation, and a dragon among men.

Oh how the times change...

Awestruck as he was by Jia Yang’s transformation, the Confessor’s continued survival didn’t escape Binesi’s notice. Those Runic robes would take some effort to punch through, though not too much considering how much Chi the Confessor was wasting on regenerating hands and feet that were just instantly lopped off. With other Peak Experts occupying Sarnai’s attention once more, Binesi took it upon himself to lend Jia Yang a hand. Leaping into the fray, he slammed his spear down point first expecting to pierce through the back of the Confessor’s exposed head, but to his surprise, his Honed Spear glanced off his hunched foe’s skull and left little more than a cut behind. A deep cut, but hardly the sort of wound one expected from a full spear thrust, and more akin to something suffered from a bad shaving accident.

Was the Confessor turning into a Demon? But there was no unnatural rippling of space and matter, no palpable presence of the Father here to guide his foul creation. Monstrous though his jolting movements might appear, Goujian was still wholly human in form, which only made his inhuman actions all the more unsettling. One moment he was skittering about on all fours, then the next he’d somersault sideways on one hand and one foot, tumbling horizontally to avoid an attack rather than vertically ahead. Moving on two legs or four, his arms and legs bent backwards almost more often that forwards, his belly facing the sky one moment only to twist in horrendous fashion to press down on the earth below, all while his head shifted and jolted this way and that while his black, blood-filled eyes remained unerringly on target.

And most disturbing of all was the frozen grimace on his lips, his teeth bared in a passable facsimile of both smile and snarl.

Alien as his flailing, jostling movements might be, no one could deny their effectiveness, and Binesi found himself hard pressed to keep up. If not for Jia Yang’s uninterrupted stream of attacks, Goujian might very well have escaped into the crowd, but with Binesi’s help, they kept the crazed Confessor penned in and chipped away at his Chi reserves bit by bit. It didn’t take long for him to realize his opponent’s weakness, and once again, he informed his comrade in arms. “He’s moving on instinct,” Binesi Sent, though Jia Yang gave no sign of acknowledgement. No, he was too focused on his relentless offensive to deviate, but he was listening, Binesi was sure of it. “I’ll feint and bait him to attack, and you take advantage of his distraction.” Without waiting for an answer, he carried out his plan, jabbing at the Confessor slowly enough for his weapon to be grabbed, but withdrawing quickly before those powerful hands clamped down and tore his weapon away. Seizing the opening, Jia Yang delivered a powerful chop to the Confessor’s lower back, driving him to the ground whereupon he rolled and hopped away on his hands. Unnerving to see a man move like that, but Binesi pressed on, giving his foe another opening by stepping within arms reach. This time, Goujian’s fingers brushed against the bottom of Binesi’s boots and even this much was enough to throw him off balance, but he recovered by jamming the butt of his spear against his foe’s wrist before retreating to safety. Again, Jia Yang landed a decisive blow, one that would have seen an unarmoured man bisected from shoulder to opposite hip, but still the Confessor’s Runic robes held firm.

It took three more tries before Binesi convinced the Confessor to expose his neck, simply by sacrificing his ankle to the frenzied beast and gritting his teeth as his bones crumpled like paper. It was worth it though, as he watched Jia Yang’s eyes light up and his sabre crash down, aimed perfectly at the Goujian’s neck. A great hero died today, but at least his death would be avenged, and Binesi committed the hated Confessor’s dying breath to memory, where it would forever be preserved in his Natal Palace.

The sabre kissed the back of Goujian’s neck and crashed into the cobblestone beneath, yet there was no squelch of flesh or crack of bone, no spray of blood or gurgle of death. There was only Binesi’s crushed ankle gingerly held off the ground, Jia Yang’s sword embedded in the stone and dirt, and empty air where Goujian’s corpse should have lain.

“Enough.”

Uttered with the force of an erupting geyser, the singular word rippled through the chaotic plaza and stilled the Warriors within. A pressure fell over Binesi’s shoulders, a cold, invisible presence which set his mind to screaming of danger and panic flooding into his veins. Baleful Aura penetrated through his own, crumbling his resolve with such ease it might as well not have been there, and for the first time in his fifty seven years of life, Binesi knew true terror.

For there, in the skies above the Northern Citadel, stood two twin Demons holding the battered and unconscious Confessor between them, their black-armoured forms seemingly a mockery of the Death Corps Guards. They were not the source of Binesi’s terror however, for above them, stood a god in mortal flesh. The Divinity was portly, but not excessively so, the result of muscle packed to the brim beneath skin straining to hold it. The face was handsome in its own way, with full, round cheeks and large, prominent ears, and piercing eyes that seemed to see into Binesi’s soul without needing to even glance in his direction. An Ancestral Bristleboar, the Divinity bore the mohawk so commonly associated with those beasts and stood in Imperial territory without a care in the world, for such was the power and arrogance of a Peak Divinity, a being who might well stand above all others in existence.

The Immortal Zhu Chanzui.

Doom had come to the Northern Citadel in one form or another, and even though the pervasive Aura was almost instantly countered by an Imperial Aura of similar might, Binesi resigned his fate to others and moved to guard Nian Zu’s corpse. Chances were, it would be destroyed in the clash between Divinities alongside every other living soul in the Citadel, but so long as Binesi drew breath, the Enemy would not desecrate Nian Zu’s...

...

.......

Where was Nian Zu’s corpse?

Chapter Meme