Savage Divinity

Being Legate is the worst.

It’s not the heavy workload, long hours and sleepless nights, since that’s pretty much the norm for me, and a life of fear and trepidation has prepared me for the stress of having the literal fate of the Empire resting on my shoulders. I can even manage the heavy burden of responsibility weighing me down, since I have family, allies, and competent subordinates to share the load with, and I actually enjoy butting heads with them when we have differing opinions and know how to gracefully acquiesce when it turns out they’re right. The complete and utter lack of gratitude or appreciation is irritating, but I’ve never been one to revel in adoration, and maintaining a tidy and ‘inspiring’ appearance is easy when you have someone like Luo-Luo managing an entire team of people to keep me looking fresh, so that’s no big deal either.

If that’s all there was to being Legate, everything would be hunky dory, but alas, there’s so much more to go through.

First off is the politics. I thought things were bad when I was Minister of Finance and I had to glad-hand all my supporters, but now I have to carefully consider my every action and reaction whether it be in private or public. Given my position, I could technically afford to insult and alienate whomsoever I pleased, but not without consequence. No one is going to rebel because I didn’t praise them enough or praised one of their enemies too much, but the amount of petty, passive-aggressive bullshit I deal with every day is astounding. There’s nothing more frustrating than working day and night to get the Empire to work like a well-oiled machine, only to see a spanner thrown into the works by Entitled McNoble just because I didn’t give them a pat on the back.

A few days ago, I interrupted one Lieutenant Marshal after four others made the same complaints, whining about the ‘frivolous’ luxury tax and how so many of their employees were leaving to join the irregulars. “Enough,” I said, maybe forgetting to smile. “I don’t have time to listen to each and every one of you bitch about your problems. The luxury tax is staying. My irregulars are recruiting. Accept it and move on.” I thought I handled it well enough, but then yesterday, the crybaby resigns citing ‘health complications’ from, get this, extreme stress. Bullshit is what it is, he was just upset because he was earning a few coppers less per barrel of rice wine and might have to pay actual wages to keep his workers from seeking better opportunities. Boo fucking hoo, cry me a river.

Then there was the Southern Brigadier who got all heated and indignant because I exhaled slightly harder than usual in response to a joke made at his expense. I don’t even remember what the joke was, but apparently my ‘encouragement’ of the mockery was an example of systemic discrimination in favour of the Northern Generals, namely Dad and Nian Zu, as he cited in an official complaint made to the Disciplinary Corps. Granted, I do place more significance on their words than others, but like... it’s my dad and his commander. How can I not?

I swear it’s like working with self-entitled children who don’t understand the world doesn’t revolve around them. Some pack their toys away and head home to play by themselves, while others whine and scream in public because they think their opinion should hold the same weight as Living Legend Nian Zu. It’s so infuriating I’m almost ready to call it quits and head back to the mountains for a few years of peace and quiet while the Defiled raze the Empire to the ground.

If only I could, but alas, I am a man of morals and obligations, so here I am working with my war council to put a viable plan together that all three provinces can accept. Again, I could just order the military to follow my commands and they’d have no choice but to obey, but I am well aware of my lacking experience and am working as hard as I can to make up for it with sound advice and planning. Face is the problem yet again, and I have no idea how to fix it. In five days, I’ve gone through three Central advisors because they all felt that their ‘advice wasn’t being heeded’ and their ‘opinions were being belittled’. To be fair, they’re not entirely wrong, but if they wanted their advice heeded and opinions taken into consideration, then they should offer better advice and opinions. Besides, isn’t valid criticism all part of the planning process? You ask for ideas and poke holes in them until you come across something without any obvious flaws, but noooo, I must be doing it because I want to deliberately insult my stupid subordinates.

I wish Grandpa Du would agree to join my war council, but he declined saying he had no mind for strategy and was busy contemplating the Dao. At least now I have Liu Xuande to help remind me of my manners, and he was surprisingly helpful in today’s planning. Not because his idea to turn Zhen Shi’s trap into a trap of our own was so innovative, but because by bringing it up, he forced us to rethink all the reasons why it was a terrible idea we’d already discarded, and in doing so, made us realize it was not actually so terrible after all. That’s why I made Xuande repeat himself with the entire war council present, because teaching a novice requires you to look at everything from a different perspective as you try to break it down into terms a layman can understand.

He’s our little student, and a good one at that, always asking insightful questions that cut to the heart of the matter and offering suggestions which aren’t always the best, but have good logical reasoning behind them. He even spotted a few questionable Defiled deployments which helped identify possible enemy countermeasures that were already in place, so given a few years, Liu Xuande might actually become a decent tactician, a bold and daring man who sees options where others see obstacles.

For now though, he’s our council’s sounding board, and he serves his purpose well. As for the rest of my advisors, it’s been a rocky road getting this war council to mesh together. Say what you will about Yari Hagane and his penchant for insolence and condescension, but at least the man doesn’t go crying to Colonel General Mitsue Juichi every time I hurt his feelings. Honestly, out of the three Officers, he’s actually the easiest to deal with, even if his ideas aren’t always the best. I thought BoShui’s uncle, Han BoHai, would be my greatest ally, but after decades of loyal service together, he now has too much faith in Nian Zu and believes the Living Legend can do no wrong. This means that no matter how many problems I bring up regarding the Colonel General’s plans, the only answer I ever get out of the bearish Major General is ‘I’m sure the Colonel General is well-prepared to deal with whatever may come’. This means I have to frame things in a way that implies an issue without laying blame at Nian Zu’s feet, because that’s the only way I can get BoHai to offer a solution, or preventative measure. It’s stupid. In BoHai’s eyes, Nian Zu is the greatest Colonel General there ever was and therefore his plans are perfectly flawless, meaning the only problems that might arise are issues in execution. It’s not that the Colonel General is wrong, it’s that the people below him are too incompetent to carry out his vision in full, so we must take them by the hand and carefully guide them step by step through the process.

Seriously, BoHai and BoShui are eerily similar in their stalwart devotion to other men...

As for the third Officer in my war council, Major General Inthavong might as well not be present for ninety percent of the meetings. Most of the time, he just stands there like a statue with a mild scowl etched across his weathered features, a grim and foreboding effigy of Southern neutrality. Despite being the least physically impressive of the three and only a little taller and wider than I am, something about the Southerner’s mannerisms makes me think him the most dangerous of the three. Even in stillness, he exudes a sense of aggressive threat much like a tiger on the prowl, and while his lips remained sealed for most of the meetings, his eyes and ears miss nothing. That said, the only times he voluntarily opens his mouth is to ensure the South never takes on more than its fair share, which is almost as frustrating as BoHai, or rather Nian Zu’s attempts to single-handedly win this war for the Empire.

As for Central? They’re just desperate to survive, because it’s becoming increasingly obvious that it’s no longer a matter of if the Defiled break through, but when. The Western Wall was a grand undertaking of massive proportions, and what we’ve accomplished is nothing short of a miracle, but at the end of the day, it’s still just a wall, one that stretches over a thousand kilometres from end to end. It doesn’t take much to imagine the Defiled breaking through somewhere to run rampant through Central, at which point it’s very possible Central goes the way of the West as North, South and East pull out to defend their own borders. That’s the issue plaguing the Empire right now, because if Central falls, the Empire falls with it, leaving three independent provinces with zero shared borders and a hostile force between them. Given the lack of long-distance communication, continued cooperation would be impossible since there’d be no way to coordinate, reinforce, or even trade between the three provinces, giving the Defiled free rein to divide and conquer as they please.

I always knew this was a possibility, but I didn’t know how bad things were until five days ago, when I reluctantly stepped into the role of master and commander of the outer provinces. During my first briefing, the third and final beardy from that fateful meeting in Nan Ping appeared and introduced himself as Xing Yong Wei, Divinity of the Imperial Clan and my new Dao protector who I could totally trust and should feel safe sharing any and all secrets with. Okay, I may be paraphrasing and he didn’t exactly say that in so many words, but the implication was there and I was understandably reluctant to trust him. Thankfully, I didn’t have to lie about much since he didn’t seem too interested in asking questions, though he did make a token effort to ask about Ping Ping. I told him I had no idea how she ascended and that the rest of my pets are just regular animals, not even Spiritual Beasts. All technically true since Pong Pong isn’t a pet, and more of a friend I feed exorbitant amounts of shrimp to in exchange for poop and the possibility of protection, though that’s seeming less likely with each passing day. I haven’t seen Pong Pong since waking from my coma, which is good because the little guy skated under the Imperial Divinity’s radar by hiding out in the river by Taduk’s bamboo grove. What’s less good is how much I miss him, but it’s too dangerous to visit him with all this attention on me, so I just have to leave him be and hope he doesn’t forget all about me before I see him again.

I want to see Ping Ping and Pong Pong interact now that they’re closer in size. I mean, Ping Ping is about the size of a golden retriever now, albeit a short, wide, girthy one, while Pong Pong still fits comfortably in the palm of my hand, so it’s still a sizable difference, but at least now they can interact in a meaningful way. It would be awesome to see them play tag or have friendly water fights together, though it would be prudent to have countermeasures in place to keep things from escalating too far. It’s all well and good to play tag in Pong Pong’s Natal Palace, but things might turn out differently if I started chasing him in the real world. Smart and powerful though he might be, a Divine Turtle is still just a turtle, so it’s entirely possible he forgets we’re just playing and panics somewhere along the way.

Which would be pretty bad considering he can summon tidal waves and emit an Aura so depressing it makes most people want to kill themselves.

Secrets and turtles aside, a few hours after my unofficial inauguration on stage following the near rebellion, Xing Yong Wei appeared on my doorstep and sat me down in a private room to peel back the curtains on this theatre of war. Needless to say, I was sorely tempted to immediately step down, but alas, Legate is an Imperial title and there’s no Imperial in the outer provinces more qualified than I. Sure, there are Royal Guardians who are more well-versed in tactics and commerce, but not only would they likely pack up and leave for home, the outer provinces might not even accept one of them, especially since they’re still on the fence about me. While Shen ZhenWu made it look like he appeared in Central and took control with ease, there was a lot more to it than waving his title and Imperial Sigil about, the latter of which I don’t even have.

It’s bullshit. To hold the Imperial Sigil is to speak with the Emperor’s voice, but Shen ZhenWu already had one before becoming Legate. Since the fan has nothing to do with the Legate’s office, it left with him when he presumably went back to the East to treat his wounds. This means all I have to convince people to work with me is the Emperor’s authority, which is distant and fickle at best.

As much as I’d love to hand the job over to Nian Zu, Shuai Jiao, or Marshal Quyen Huong, doing so would likely end in disaster. The three provinces are fiercely independent, and it makes sense considering each one is almost a country unto itself. The only reason I’m an acceptable Legate is due to the combination of my outer-province origins, my Imperial Peerage, and the fact that everyone sees me as someone who can be easily influenced or manipulated, if not outright controlled. As I myself just recently learned, there’s a lot more to commanding than making plans and giving orders, because if people are unhappy with what you’re doing, there are infinite ways for them to make life difficult without crossing over into actual rebellion. Things like quitting their jobs and supporting an incompetent successor, or doing the bare minimum to fulfill their orders while secretly undermining your efforts in hopes you’ll fail, just so they can point and say ‘I told you so’. Real petty garbage like that, annoying and infuriating but nothing serious enough to warrant a beating or worse, because everyone wised up after I had Ishin Shigen publicly whipped for refusing to drop the matter of Dad’s reinstatement.

“Surely the previous Legate would not have done so without reason,” Shigen repeatedly claimed, despite my insistent request that we move on. “I only suggest the new Legate do his due diligence to ensure all protocols are followed to the letter and spirit of the law.”

Which was bullshit. There was an official document stripping Dad of rank which was signed and sealed, but nowhere on the page was a reason given. With Jixing’s apparent death, which Xing Yong Wei would neither confirm nor deny, this meant there was no way to know why Dad was stripped of rank. What is there to investigate? Even an Oath-bound statement of truth wouldn’t be enough to clear Dad, because there is no accusation for him to plainly deny. He could swear and say he had nothing to do with the Wraith attacks, but what good would that do? Everyone would just claim he could have leaked the information to a malicious third party that then passed it on to the Defiled, or that Akanai had been responsible instead and Dad didn’t know, or any number of accusations that would see him bleed out before satisfying everyone’s curiosity. The whole discussion was just a smokescreen to make things difficult for me and shame Dad by hinting that there was something hinky afoot. Truth be told, losing my temper didn’t win me any points, but since logic and reasoning weren’t going anywhere, I told everyone present that the next person to bring the matter up would be whipped in the streets, and wouldn’t you know it, it was less than five minutes before Ishin Shigen tried to call my bluff, so fuck him and fuck Mitsue Juichi too, because I know that old canny bastard put him up to it.

Needless to say, even with the Imperial Clan’s ‘full support’ behind me, it’s been slow going trying to win over the provinces and get them to obey without question. Being under-qualified and inexperienced is only part of it, and my confirmed slave past isn’t helping much, what with rumours flying about claiming that the new Legate is technically stolen property and whatnot, but thus far, I’ve been ignoring it whenever I can and pushing ever forward. Nothing I say will change the past, but if their heads are stuck so far up their asses that they can’t judge me by what I’ve done and what I’m doing rather than what I once was, then the people of the Empire aren’t worth saving and the Defiled can have them all.

Which is sort of a moot point since we’re clearly losing this war.

I don’t mean we don’t have a chance of winning, only that we are currently losing and the situation is more dire than I initially suspected. Not great news to get during your first day on the job, but like the good soldier I am, I kept my complaining to a minimum while pressing forward. The actual fighting isn’t going too badly, as we’re still holding the second line with only a modicum of difficulty, and thus far, Goujian and his contingent of Wraiths were the first group to make it past our defences and into a Citadel. The problem is, the Enemy has been testing our defences since before the First Imperial Grand Conference took place, and it’s frightening to see the estimates of how many Defiled slipped past the border undetected before we were able to secure it. It’s so easy to get caught up in guarding our borders from the Defiled threat and forget to guard ourselves from within as well, which is where a large part of the Legate’s responsibilities lie.

Thus, after my second meeting with the war council came to an end, I send my advisors away to dispatch our revised battle plan to the Colonel Generals and settle into my chair with Mama Bun and Ping Ping. Their presence is sorely needed, because now comes the most heartbreaking part of my job: looking over reports and passing judgment on thousands of lives sight unseen. Shen ZhenWu had people in place compiling reports from all over the Empire regarding possible Defiled activity, containing everything from missing persons and unsolved murders to barroom brawls and debased orgies, and it’s my job to decide if they warrant an execution. As one might expect, it is soulless, joyless work navigating through those seemingly endless reports and trawling through the depraved details of what suspected Defiled have been up to. To make matters worse, it is my job to decide if we should ignore the incident, investigate further, or take immediate action, with only a few paragraphs of information to go on.

A spate of missing children in a city of the South. Investigate.

A Northern hunting village selling more pelts than commoners should be able to provide. Investigate.

A doomsayer preaching about the fall of the Empire and the trials and tribulations to follow. Investigate.

A half-eaten corpse with suspiciously human-like bite marks found in the midden heap of a village. Investigate.

In my opinion, the vast majority of cases warrant further investigation, because mere suspicion isn’t enough to go on, but the Empire’s resources are not without limit, as Xing Yong Wei is quick to remind me when he arrives for his daily report. “There is only so much we can investigate, young Legate,” he says, flipping through the reports like I would riffle a deck of cards, and reading every word contained within in an instant. “Many of these can be discarded or acted on immediately. This one for example.” Pointing at the report detailing the missing children, he says, “This can be ignored. Defiled infiltrators tend to target commoners ranging from sixteen to fifty years of age. The missing children here are too young to control their impulses, so turning them Defiled would only draw unnecessary attention.”

“Twelve children have gone missing in the span of three months,” I reply, reminding myself that this man is a Divinity, and therefore can crush me with a single eyelash. “Does this not warrant investigation?”

“It does, but not by us.” Pushing the document towards me, he fixes me with a gaze I can only describe as weary, which is not something you want to see from a Divinity. “Pass this along to the Southern Marshal and let him deal with it. Our purpose here is only to uncover and eliminate the Defiled. Everything else is irrelevant.”

Even though he’s not wrong, I still want to investigate, because I’m not sure if Marshal Quyen will take this seriously. I’ve handed over a few reports already, and he has yet to assure me that he is investigating the matter, which is less than ideal. Hugging Ping Ping tight and stroking her head to keep her from glaring at the Divinity in overt threat, I look down at the document and sigh before crossing out my order to ‘investigate’ and scrawling ‘ignore’ underneath it. My pen barely leaves the page before Xing Yong Wei replaces it with another document without uttering a word, and a quick glance reveals this one is regarding the incident with the half-eaten corpse. No words are exchanged as I struggle to voice my excuse, that the bite marks could have come from a small boar, monkey, or other creature with human-like dentures, or that investigation is needed to identify who the Defiled culprits are, but I know it’s all for naught.

So instead, I stare at the page and reluctantly scratch out ‘investigate’, and write ‘eliminate’ in its place, consigning an entire village of two-hundred odd people to their deaths. There will be no trial, for I am both judge and jury, and now I must live with their deaths on my conscience.

Xing Yong Wei has me change many more verdicts, including the doomsayer and almost a dozen more like him, and doing so leaves me in a sombre mood. They can’t all be Defiled, and might well just be scared people trying to warn others of a dire future, but we can’t allow them to continue because terror and despair could give rise to real Defiled. As a soldier on the battlefield, I could dream of ideals all I wanted as I fought with a clear and present Enemy, but as Legate, my enemies are more difficult to distinguish, navigating through a sea of greys in an effort to distinguish black from white. It’s necessary, or so I tell myself, but only because I’m not smart enough to come up with a working alternative, and it kills me inside to consign good men and women to death for the greater good.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, or so I’ve been told, and I’m beginning to see how true it really is. This is wrong, I know this, but what other choice do I have?

Sensing the change in my demeanour, Ping Ping suspects Xing Yong Wei of wrongdoing and fixes him with a sideways glare while emanating a vaguely hostile Aura of warning, one I can also feel because she hasn’t quite figured out how to pick and choose her targets. Glad for the break from issuing death warrants, I turn her away from the Imperial Divinity and stroke her head in an effort to keep her from starting something I will totally regret. “It’s okay sweet girl,” I whisper, planting a light kiss on her head. “Everything’s fine. No need to be angry, so just calm down.”

It’s hard to say if it’s my words or my tone which soothes her nerves, but the warning Aura fades away and Ping Ping goes back to merely glaring. All the while, Xing Yong Wei watches with indifferent curiosity, wholly nonchalant before this powerful creature who might very well destroy the Citadel we’re standing in if the mood strikes her. “Power without control,” he says, as I return to my seat, almost like he’s commenting on the weather or the price of grain. “A dangerous combination.”

“She’s an animal,” I reply, protectively shielding Ping Ping with my body even though I know it wouldn’t make a difference. “Leave her alone, and she’ll likely leave you alone in turn.”

“Not her,” the Imperial Divinity says, meeting my eyes with a telling look. “You. You calm her and soothe her with your words, bind her to you side, but as evidenced by her attack on Zhu Chanzui, you can also inadvertently stoke her anger and drive her to action.” Raising a bushy white eyebrow, Xing Yong Wei asks, “You think it was her power which drove the Bristleboar Divinity away? No, he fled because he feared the consequences which would come from killing her, a feat he could have easily accomplished if he cared to. A Divine Beast this turtle may be, but it is only newly ascended and her power limited by unfamiliarity. Luckily for you, Zhu Chanzui had no real intention of engaging in a battle of Divinities at the Northern Citadel, just as we had no intention to compel him to retaliate, which was why we were left with no choice but to let him speak.”

Pursing my lips, I swallow my retort and carefully consider how to respond, because this is not a conversation I really want to have. Besides asking if I had any other Divine Beasts and wondering if I knew how to raise them, Xing Yong Wei and the Imperial Clan have shown a distressing lack of interest in Ping Ping, which leads me to suspect they’ve known about Divine Beasts all along. Despite rising to the rank of Legate and commanding all Death Corps and Royal Guardians outside the Eastern Province, there’s still a blanket moratorium on sharing Imperial secrets with me. I don’t know if the ban on talking is standard practice for Imperials, or the Legate left strict instructions to keep me in the dark, but either way, no one is sharing any information unless it directly relates to my duties.

There are so many questions I want to ask, but the answers would all require I swear myself to the Imperial Clan. Xing Yong Wei made the offer the first day we met, to help me repair my Core, unravel the mystery of my Dao, and help me become a Peak Expert so long as I gave the requisite Oaths. Not to the Legate, or even Xing Yong Wei, but to become a loyal servant to the Emperor Himself, and having seen how the big kahuna treats his servants, I was understandably loath to agree. The Imperial Divinity didn’t take offence at my refusal, and in fact seemed to expect it, probably because the deceased Chief Beardy, who I belatedly learned was named YangZaixing, passed the information along regarding my Dao of freedom or whatever.

Which reminds me... might as well give it a shot. “Yang Zaixing,” I say, and Xing Yong Wei brows furrow in regret. “Any relation to Yang Jixing?”

“Great-Grandfather and Great-Grandson.”

Closer than I suspected, but not too far off, since I figured there’d be more greats in between. It’s strange. Why would Shen ZhenWu’s Divinity bodyguard be someone from the Yang family? I thought he was connected to the Liang family, which is why my armour bears their mark. “What are the chances Jixing’s Dao Protector is surnamed Liang?”

Though the Imperial Divinity doesn’t reply, the flash of anger in his eyes tells me I’ve hit the mark, and my stomach flops and twists from this implicit confirmation. Makes sense, in my opinion. If you want your heirs protected from the other Supreme Families, you trade protectors. Liang guards Yang, Yang guards Liang, with a third family, Xing, overseeing the agreement. At least, that’s how I suspect it works, which means matters got a whole lot more complicated. Although Shen ZhenWu was injured by the Wraiths and is supposedly near death, things worked out far too neatly for him for me not to feel uneasy about it. A Divinity from a rival family dies, followed by said Divinity’s descendent, only for Shen ZhenWu’s promising pawn to step in and take over, all the pieces fell perfectly into place, though I can’t imagine why my Patron would want any of this, or why his family’s Divinity would accuse me of rebellion. Things could have gone disastrously wrong if Zhu Chanzui hadn’t shown up when he did, and no matter how I try to justify it, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than meets the eye.

Which means there’s a very real possibility Shen ZhenWu is working with Zhen Shi, or at the very least, took advantage of one enemy to deal with another.

And I hate everything about that.

With the reports out of the way, I sigh and ask, “How goes the war on the Divine front?”

“As well as can be expected.” The same answer he’s given me the past five days, and I know there will be no more information forthcoming. He hasn’t asked for help from the People, nor have I offered, but I did ask Mom about it and she told me to worry about the problems I could solve, rather than the ones I could do nothing about. Honestly, not the worst advice, but I hate going to all this effort while knowing that in the end, it might not even matter. At any point, the Divinities could get off their asses and turn the Empire into a wasteland, but until such a time, all I can do is continue to keep fighting the good fight and doing things I don’t agree with, but know must be done.

I would very much love it if the Brotherhood would respond to my many pleas for a meeting, because a bunch of half-Defiled monks who can identify other Defiled would go a long way to assuaging my guilt, but even though the Imperial Clan knows about the Brotherhood’s unique status, Xing Yong Wei told me they were of no use. Identifying the Defiled to Imperial forces is the same as consigning them to death, so no full member of the Brotherhood would work in concert with the Imperial Clan. A conflicting stance, because on the one hand, that’s stupid and the Brotherhood should feel stupid for being stupid, but on the other hand, I kinda see their point. Not all Defiled are irredeemable, but the Imperial Clan would rather kill a hundred innocents than let a single Defiled get away, which is another conflicting stance I don’t entirely agree with. Unfortunately, there’s no alternative I can come up with that would satisfy both groups, because the Brotherhood won’t forcefully convert Defiled and the Imperials see no point in jailing and feeding them.

“This is difficult for you,” Xing Yong Wei says, delivered as a statement of fact rather than commiseration. “Our work is done for today. Go seek solace from your Consort and let her music ease your troubled conscience.”

Something in the way he says it makes me sit up and take notice, because it’s rare for the robotic Divinity to inject emphasis into his intonation. Consort and music were clearly accentuated, though I only noticed because he almost always speaks in monotone. The wheels turn in my head, and it occurs to me he’s trying to help me understand something, but I’m not entirely sure what. “Is that why Jixing wanted her? To ease his troubled conscience?” Yong Wei doesn’t answer, but his silence is as close to confirmation as I’ll get, since I’m pretty sure he’d speak up if I was wrong. So what does this mean? It means Jixing wasn’t after Luo-Luo because he lusted after her beauty, but her music instead. Why now, and not during the six years she spent hiding away at the Academy? Luo-Luo always said it was because if she accepted the Grand Marshal’s offer of Patronage, the Prime Minister would’ve had her killed and the same vice-versa, but that doesn’t really make sense now that I think about it. Sure, face would be lost if she chose one Patron over another, but Imperial Scions tend to do all their dirty work through cats-paws, and assassination is pretty direct for a conflict as petty as ownership of an Imperial Servant. In their eyes, an Imperial Servant, even one as beautiful and talented as Luo-Luo, is no different from a pretty painting or elegant vase to have and display, hardly anything worth killing over.

Which brings me back to the question, why now? What changed to make Jixing so desperate to have Luo-Luo play a tune to soothe his troubled soul, desperate enough to act in such an overt manner and risk rebellion in a time of war?

...

“What was Yang Jixing’s purpose in Central?” The question leaves my lips before my mind even has time to process it, and I can immediately tell I was right to ask it, because Xing Yong Wei doesn’t answer. I suspect it’s not because he doesn’t want to, but because he physically can’t. Someone ordered him to keep quiet, but he wants me to know, so he’s leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow. Think Rain. He can’t talk about Jixing, which means you’re asking the wrong questions. “This work,” I ask, gesturing at the reports before me. “I send out the verdict, but who carries it out?”

“Who else but the Disciplinary Corps?” Cracking the barest hint of a smile, Xing Yong Wei explains, “Since the founding of the Empire, the Five Supreme Families have each served a different purpose. The Yang family upholds the Emperor’s justice, for they were named for the Sun, and everything beneath falls within their domain. So too with the Liang Family, named for the moon, overseeing the Empire’s economic and mercantile interests, to ensure fortune and prosperity follows as surely as day turns to night.”

“What about the other families?”

Puffing up with pride, Xing Yong Wei pats himself on the chest and answers, “The Xing family is named for the stars and tasked to oversee the military and ensure the Empire remains strong for as long as there are stars in the sky. There are no secrets hidden from the Heavens, and few hidden from the Tian family named after them, a family of spies and assassins who are second to none, and last but not least, the Di family is named for the Earth, whose sole purpose is to sustain and support the other five.”

One of these families is not like the others, but I don’t really feel like it’s my place to criticize. Seriously though, a Supreme Family of farming? I mean, food is great and the Legate did supply me with some amazing tofu pudding, but it’s rare for nobles to place so much emphasis on crop growth of all things. Filing all this information away for later, I go back to my original question and realize the answer was staring me in the face all along. “Yang Jixing was responsible for eliminating the Defiled, much like what I’m doing now.” Since Xing Yong Wei doesn’t see fit to interrupt me, I continue narrating my thoughts as they come. “Is that why he wanted Luo-Luo? Because the weight of his conscience was bearing down on him? That would explain why he was so desperate to get her, and why he acted so... irrationally at the end there, with all his overt actions, but... I dunno. Shouldn’t someone like Yang Jixing have a Mentor or something, someone to watch over him and make sure he doesn’t... deviate from the Path?”

“He did.” With a pained look that spells out ‘you’re an idiot’, Xing Yong Wei says, “Yang Jixing’s Dao Guardian was the Divinity who failed to protect him.”

The one who accused me of rebelling and is surnamed Liang, and therefore is somehow related to Shen ZhenWu.

...

Well fuck. I guess that clinches it. My Patron somehow engineered events to have both Yang Jixing and Yang Zaixing killed by the Defiled. It’s not proof Shen ZhenWu is working with the Enemy, but even the best case scenario doesn’t paint a pretty picture. “Will the Emperor do anything about this?”

“About what?” Xing Yong Wei, his words drier than a desert. “The Enemy killed another Imperial Divinity and assassinated the Yang family heir. It is fortunate Shen ZhenWu still lives, unless you suspect otherwise?”

And there it is. He’s asking if I suspect my Patron of allying with the Enemy, but even though I do, how do I know I can trust Xing Yong Wei? Shen ZhenWu is the source of all my authority, and if I cast suspicions upon him, then I’m done, regardless if I’m right or wrong. This could all be an elaborate trap meant to lead me to this very conclusion, and there’s no way to know who’s actually on my side. Suspicious as I am of Shen ZhenWu, I have no reason to trust any other Imperial over him, and many reasons not to trust them. Jixing’s desire for Luo-Luo’s music is only a suspicion, because there’s no way the Prime Minister’s son didn’t have any other way to ‘soothe his conscience’. Unless of course he was obsessed with Luo-Luo, an obsession which might well have been introduced and encouraged by the Dao Guardian who let him die.

Fuck, Yuzhen was right. The Imperial Clan are a devious, manipulative bunch who will feed you shit and convince you to thank them for it.

“I have no reason to suspect my Patron,” I say, trying my best to mimic Xing Yong Wei’s monotone and suggest I also have no reason to trust Shen ZhenWu either. Hard to say if he caught my meaning, but the bearded Divinity studies me closely before nodding in farewell, disappearing in the blink of an eye and leaving me alone in my office with Ping Ping, Aurie, and my bunnies. Still cradling the sweet girl close, I give Ping Ping a kiss on the head while studying her expression, and I realize how silly I was to think she could protect me from Divinities. Not two seconds have passed since Xing Yong Wei left, and already this sweet girl has let her guard down. Touching as their relationship was, I can’t help but think Guan Suo’s constant protection has left Ping Ping unable to protect herself. She never watches her surroundings, and never notices errant Divinities until they’re already in the room, and I don’t think she even knows how to Conceal, because Guan Suo and the Protectorate did all of this for her. In truth, she might not even be a True Divinity, since I may have helped her through the process, which means Ping Ping might well be the weakest Divinity in existence.

One point on the board for Zhen Shi’s way of thinking, but on the other hand, Ping Ping is awfully cute and cuddly...

“I love you Ping Ping.” The warm burst of Aura which she emits in response tells me she shares the sentiment, but I’m not sure if it’s because she recognizes the words or she just appreciates it when I hug and talk to her. Either way, it’s time I called it a night and went back to my borrowed manor for dinner. There’s so much I still need to do, like go over whatever revisions the Colonel Generals have sent back, write letters to political figures to soothe bruised egos or win them over to my side, and see what I can do about taking steps towards abolishing slavery without inciting widespread rebellion, but none of those problems will be solved anytime soon, and certainly not in the time it takes for me to eat a meal and take a bath while Luo-Luo plays a healing melody in the courtyard.

This is my life for now, and I will continue doing what I think is best, but the stakes are too high to act without thinking. There is something afoot in the Imperial Clan, but there’s no point trying to unravel what’s happening with what little I know. Instead, I should keep doing what I’m doing while considering all my options carefully, and maybe make plans to free myself from these shackles of obligation. Right now, the only way I know how to do that is to defeat the Defiled and neutralize the threat they present, so I can finally go home and tell the rest of the Empire to fuck off.

All I have to do is end a war against an Enemy that predates the Empire itself. Easy Peasy, right?

Chapter Meme