Savage Divinity

Ignoring the forlorn squeaks and mournful pouts from the Divine Turtle and formidable half-hare waif, Goujian steadied his breathing and kept vigilant watch on his cunning and treacherous opponent.

Physically, Falling Rain looked no different from before, a short, slender young man with bright amber eyes and a lean, sinewy frame. Broad shoulders and a slim waist made him seem even skinnier than he already was, and combined with the lack of fat on his face and body, Goujian found it difficult to properly gauge the Imperial Puppet’s true age in the flickering torchlight. At one moment, his transparent, guileless expression made him seem like a melancholic young teen, happy his ‘sweet wifey’ was able to leave safely, but heartbroken to watch her go. Then, the shadows shifted across his face as his gaze turned towards his foes and his gaunt, angular features took on a new cast, darkening to accentuate his cold, piercing stare while exhibiting a calm, controlled fury that hinted at wisdom and experience far beyond his years. There was no youthful impatience or nervous unease, not even when the Chosen made their presence known, marching in with weapons drawn and fanning out with precise discipline to cover the movements of the Concealed, Half-Step Divinity Wraiths shifting into position around them.

Movements which did not go unnoticed, for Goujian watched carefully as the boy’s eyes scanned about the room with cold, analytical efficiency and tried to hide his awareness to eke out every advantage he could in the battle to come. Were it not for the Wisdom warning him about Falling Rain’s ability to see through Concealment, Goujian might well have missed these tiny hints, a dart of the eyes here and a flash of recognition there, the devious runt hiding his canny thoughts behind a facade of forthright honesty. This was his style, not only in combat, but in politics as well, happy to play the fool and give his foes plenty of rope to tie the noose around their own necks before kicking the chair out from underneath their unsuspecting feet, but Goujian would not allow himself to be lulled into complacency.

Not just because he just saw the runt evade capture and bring the Behemoth down to one knee, which in and of itself was a formidable feat. Even Goujian wasn’t certain he could replicate this success, for the thin line between Half-Step and Divinity represented a vast disparity in actual strength. Also impressive was how the half-hare girl managed to divert the Behemoth’s arm, but allowances could be made considering the Ancestral Mammoth was only trying to capture Falling Rain as opposed to kill him, not to mention how the Medical Saint likely lent a hand. The waif’s silken scarf had to be a Spiritual Weapon, but he’d never seen or heard of a Spiritual Heart being woven into cloth. Combined with her superlative speed and agility however, Goujian was happy to see the half-hare waif leave, as she represented a variable he was unable to account for.

Even without her presence muddying the waters, he wasn’t as confident of victory as he would like. With twenty-seven Peak Expert Chosen and a dozen Half-Step Wraiths at his side, the enemy was vastly outnumbered, but the four guardian monks and Falling Rain were far too calm and confident for Goujian’s liking. Especially the boy, who flashed a smug and complacent smile mere seconds after the outer stone gates slammed shut behind the Medical Saint, a condition he agreed to far too quickly considering the vast disparity of strength between the two sides. Goujian would’ve thought Falling Rain’s only hope was to fight his way out and escape, but the runt’s relaxed posture and infuriating smile suggested otherwise, and he couldn’t help but reflect on Falling Rain’s earlier, laughable claim about how they were all trapped in here with him.

A claim which was no longer amusing at all...

Merely this much would not be enough to shake Goujian’s confidence if not for one mitigating factor, something even the Wisdom was unable to explain away. Whilst following the newly ascended Monk Dama to the Abbot’s hidden retreat, they’d all sensed the disturbance proceeding within, as a raging torrent of Heavenly Energy surged through the hidden confines of the underground cave to converge around the runt sitting in quiet meditation. The upheaval was similar to what occurred during Monk Dama’s unremarkable ascension, but with marked differences, namely in how the world seemed to come alive in the first instance, while Falling Rain’s foreboding presence threatened to overturn the Heavens themselves. There was no shaking of the ground or darkening of the skies, no howling winds or torrential storms, yet it felt as if a pall had been cast over all existence, one emanating from Falling Rain’s body.

Only then did Goujian understand why the Uniter called Falling Rain the Devourer, for what else would one call a man capable of consuming Heavenly Energy like so? This was not Balance, with the Energy of the Heavens surging into one’s Core, but Falling Rain consuming the power of Creation and Destruction against its will. Never before had Goujian experienced such a phenomenon, one akin to demonstrating Purity with near monstrous intensity, forming a whirlpool of Heavenly Energy that drew in everything around it until he feared the Chi within his own Core would burst out to happily join the growing deluge, one converging around the otherwise unruffled runt.

The upheaval lasted less than a minute from start to finish, but to Goujian, it felt like it went on for a lifetime, one that culminated just as his comrades moved into place around the runt. When Falling Rain’s eyes snapped open, his gaze seemed distant and unfocused, a look Goujian had seen many a time before on men and women lost to Insight, and for a moment, he feared they’d stumbled across an ancient monster hidden in human flesh.

Even though Falling Rain was unable to injure his foe, the fact that he managed to not only react to the Ancestral Mammoth’s movements, but also counterattack with some degree of success spoke volumes to the runt’s improved Martial prowess. According to Wisdom Vyakhya, Falling Rain was not yet a Half-Step Divinity, but he’d said the same for Monk Anand who’d handily defeated Goujian in single combat. The portly monk’s declaration sounded clearly in his mind, a confident affirmation which spoke volumes to all who heard it. “I seek the Dao.” A simple and concise statement that rang with the clarion call of truth and confidence, one that filled Goujian with boundless awe and uncertain apprehension. Could he say the same? Of course he could, but not with such faith and conviction. There was no doubt in Monk Anand’s mind that his Path was true, a feat few could ever hope to imitate. Who could truly say they held no doubts whatsoever? That they had every confidence in the path they took to get where they were? This was in essence a declaration of perfection, with Monk Anand stating he believed that every step he took along the Dao was indeed the correct one, and that he had no regrets to hold him back.

A bold declaration for a man faced with ignoble defeat, unable to shift his spade even a single millimetre beneath Wisdom Vyakhya’s weight, and yet, despite his dire circumstances, Monk Anand was still able to hold true to his Path. Goujian knew for certain he could not do the same, for even before witnessing Falling Rain’s astounding progress along the Martial Path, he had already uncovered a handful of doubts along his own Path. Why did the Wisdom wait so long before informing Goujian of his weaknesses? Had he erred in focusing too much on his body at the expense of his mind and soul? A part of him told him to trust his teacher and take matters one step at a time, consoled him saying that the body comes first because despite the complexity that came with refining his physique, refining the mind and soul was surely to be even more difficult. This was merely the beginning, and the Wisdom accounted for Goujian’s weaknesses by ensuring the tiger Rakshasa would protect him, so all he needed to do was overpower the runt and kill him before anyone could stop him.

However, there was a small part of his mind that simply refused to let this matter go. Why did the Wisdom wait so long before informing Goujian of his own flaws? So as not to affect his confidence? Or because he was merely a test subject meant to confirm the Wisdom’s unproven theories? Was this the reason why he refused to take Goujian as a Disciple? Though the old monk preached about the Noble Eight-Fold Path, his actions were those of a shrewd, duplicitous sinner, one who had an agenda all his own. Did he not instruct Goujian to kill Falling Rain, contrary to the Uniter’s orders? What of young Gen, who succumbed to the half-cat slave’s Aura? Why did Wisdom Vyakhya not have Rakshasa protect him? So as to remove a piece from the Uniter’s board no doubt, which raised the question of what would happen to Goujian once Falling Rain was dead and gone. Would the Wisdom protect him from the Uniter’s wrath, or was he to be traded like a sacrificed pawn in a game of chess? What of the massive surge of Heavenly Energy rushing into Falling Rain? What phenomenon could have caused such a thing? Even when forming his Spiritual Heart, Goujian had been unable to elicit such a reaction from the Heavens, and had to borrow Heavenly Energy from a bath filled with Spiritual Herbs, and Monk Dama’s ascension was far less awe-inspiring than this. Why did the Heavens favour Falling Rain so, instead of their Chosen Champion, Goujian?

“So,” Falling Rain began, jolting Goujian out of his thoughts. “Which one of you wants to come fight me first?”

The runt’s sheer arrogance nearly sent Goujian into a rage, especially when combined with his laid back posture and eager, expectant attitude, as if he were here to spar and learn instead of embroiled in a life and death situation. There he stood, with his glaive resting lightly on one shoulder and shield strapped to his arm which hung loosely by his side, seemingly without a shred of wariness or vigilance about him. An illusion of course, for Goujian saw the tension hidden by his stillness, his breathing so steady and measured it could only be forced. There was also the way his eyes never stopped moving, scanning the room with deceptive nonchalance, gauging his enemies and preparing a plan to deal with them in turn, a plan he shared with the monks beside him through a flurry of back and forth Sending. Yes, Goujian could feel their discussion taking place, a lengthy debate that was even now still ongoing, which was impressive considering how laid back the boy appeared. Even some Peak Experts were unable to converse through Sending without appearing constipated or distracted, but the runt made it seem as effortless as turning a hand.

So infuriated by the boy’s cocksure attitude and his own insecurities, Goujian only narrowly avoided running headlong into the runt’s cunning trap. “There will be no duels here today,” he said with a snarl, angry at himself for letting his doubts interfere with his judgment. “We are not here to spar. Surrender or suffer, the choice is yours.”

Had he accepted the challenge, the Chosen would then be forced to stand back and watch them fight, for their pride would not allow them to interfere. The Wraiths would not have been stopped, but it would be foolish to accept the duel with nothing to be gained. With the odds in their favour and no need to affect the enemy’s morale, why bother engaging in a duel without benefit? No, better to overwhelm their foes through weight of numbers and quietly kill Falling Rain in the chaos, leaving the Uniter no room for condemnation, not after the runt’s phenomenal display of Purity and subsequent demonstration of skills.

“Oh?” The runt asked, tilting his head in mocking question. “Are you claiming I won’t suffer if I surrender? That’s rich. I’d probably suffer most of all if I were captured, but I don’t intend to find out.” Uttering a soft sigh, he shook his head and added, “Well then, since no one wants to duel, then we might as well get this party started.”

At first, Goujian thought the boy was stretching his left arm or cracking his elbow perhaps, a quick extension of the limb before retracting it to take a defensive posture, but then he heard the unmistakable thump of a body falling to the ground behind him. Stepping aside on instinct alone, a rush of air passed by Goujian’s cheek as he caught a glint of metal from the corner of his eye, and only in posterity was he able to piece together the series of events. Upon declaring his intent, Falling Rain’s short sword launched itself from its sheath and buried itself into a Concealed Wraith, a sneak attack delivered without touching the sword itself. Goujian wasn’t sure if he simply missed seeing the weapon or if the clever boy had Concealed it, but it was easy to see the sheath sitting in plain sight now that attention had been drawn to it. After killing a Half-Step Divinity with laughable ease, the runt proceeded to Guide his sword towards the back of Goujian’s head, and while his inhuman reflexes allowed him to avoid injury, a cold shiver ran down his spine upon realizing how easily the boy had almost killed him.

Seeing his surprise, Falling Rain smirked even as his sword returned to its sheath, slotting itself back in as if possessing a mind of its own. “I am the Sword,” he mocked, while settling into a charging stance. “The Sword is me.”

For the second time today, Goujian was sent careening through the air by a thunderous impact, and again, he blacked out for the space of a second. The boy’s fabled charge, one delivered through a combination of Mantis Balanced on Windy Leaf and Deer Pierces the Horizon. Apparently, Akanai of the Bekhai used this same skill to great effect against Gongsun Qi, and while Goujian hadn’t seen her unleash the attack firsthand, he couldn’t imagine anyone moving faster than Falling Rain. There was no delay between movement and attack, for the boy exploded into motion and appeared in front of Goujian faster than his enhanced eyesight could capture. Even his superlative instincts and heightened reflexes failed to alert him of the attack, one delivered head on without warning, and he feared he was no match for the runt anymore, not in single combat.

Thankfully, the boy’s charging thrust only did a negligible amount of damage to Goujian’s reforged physique, the benefits of Refining his body into a Spiritual Heart preserving his life yet again. That being said, negligible was not the same as nil, so Goujian circulated his Chi to Heal his damaged internal organs yet again while studying his opponent in action. The taste of blood welling in his mouth set his appetite on edge, but he kept to the Razor’s Edge and watched as Falling Rain engaged the Chosen in all out battle.

And held his own against an overwhelming number of Peak Experts.

There was nothing outlandish about the battle taking place before Goujian’s eyes, no incredible feats of strength or agile, death-defying movements. In fact, aside from the speed of the combatants, there was nothing remarkable about this exchange, the movements on both sides being practical, efficient, and rationally selected. Two Chosen flanked the runt, one executing Tiger Swipes the Rushes to sweep his halberd horizontally, while the other used his spear to slash diagonally downward in a classic performance of Bear’s Standing Fury. In response, Falling Rain blocked both attacks, one with his shield and the other with his glaive, nothing out of the ordinary at all except for the fact that all three combatants stood close to the pinnacle of Martial Strength. Despite knowing this in his mind, Goujian was unable to reconcile this simple fact with the scene before his eyes, for in this battle of Peak Experts, Falling Rain made his foes seem like tribal fodder to be killed out of hand.

After casually absorbing both attacks, the runt pushed back and the Chosen gave way, freeing up enough room for Falling Rain to bring his glaive about. The polished metal flashed in the firelight and twin sprays of blood erupted from the stumps of his opponent’s necks, two Peak Experts decapitated in one motion like stalks of wheat harvested by the scythe. Barely blinking an eye at this incredible feat, the runt pushed forward to catch his next foe off-guard with a back-handed performance of Gliding Wing, something Goujian had only seen once before, during an impractical sword dance he’d attended for the sake of giving a generous benefactor face. He remembered thinking that such a movement would never hold up in real battle, that a feint followed by a reverse spin was too easily read and countered, but Falling Rain made it look so natural and effective it was a wonder why everyone wasn’t using the movement in this manner. Again and again, the runt’s actions defied logic as he scythed his way through the Chosen lines, utilizing glaive, shield, and sword with flawless harmony to injure, maim, and kill his way to eventual victory.

That being said, while the runt was admittedly skilled, he was far from powerful enough to secure victory on his own. The Chosen were not his match in skill, speed, or strength, but only by a small margin that could easily be overcome through numbers and tactics. Alas, the runt was not fighting alone and had four Half-Step Divinity monks to guard his back, men who in another life, Goujian would have called his Senior Brothers. Not in the sense of the monastic brotherhood, but rather in how these four Warrior Monks were Mentored by Mahakala himself. The militant arm of the Brotherhood, as it were, guardians trained to put aside the Noble Eight-Fold Path and steep themselves in sin to better understand it. These four monks were no strangers to death, cold, dispassionate killers who cared naught for the suffering of their foes, for though they were sure to be denied Nirvana in this life, they shouldered this burden with pride.

Wisdom Vyakhya called them the Four Kshatriya of the Brotherhood, an ancient term for a caste of warriors and kings, which led to the popularization of calling them the Four Heavenly Kings of the Brotherhood, monks who saw no need to walk the Eight-Fold Path in order to ascend to the Heavens above. Unlike the rest of the monks, these four truly had no names of their own, each one referred to only by a cardinal direction when absolutely necessary. Warriors without pride or ego, they fought like gods as they dominated the battlefield within this enclosed cave, and Goujian marvelled before their mastery of the Dao.

North and West stood on either side of Falling Rain, at a distance that was neither close nor far. Brothers by blood as well as by vows, they fought with flawless coordination few could match. Despite standing at least fifteen meters apart from one another, they were able to combine their attacks in a way that almost defied common logic. North struck one Chosen and sent him stumbling into another, only for West to strike a third Chosen to bumble into a fourth, affording Falling Rain the opportunity to reap all of their lives with two consecutive swings of his glaive. Upon meeting stiff opposition on the left, West abruptly fell back only for North to take his place, who caught the Chosen combatants off-guard and smashed his way through their defences, while a similar scene unfolded on the other side. What’s more, every now and then North or West would release one hand from the spade and use it to deliver an open palm strike, one that pierced through the Chosen’s Runic armour and set them to bleeding from all seven orifices.

Powerful attacks and unparalleled coordination made North and West a force to be reckoned with, but the remaining monks were even more impressive. The youngest of the bunch, East, was the most talented of all, and it showed as the young monk used his reach to good effect from the rear. Every wave of his spade delivered shards of blue light into the ranks of the Chosen, who were killed from a dozen paces away by the luminous, razor sharp crescents. Chi, Domain, Honing, and Mother knows what other skills East used to kill from afar, and Goujian yearned to uncover the secrets behind his Talent, but even Wisdom Vyakhya was unable to unravel the mystery. Then there was South, the eldest of the four and also the heart and soul of the Four Heavenly Kings thanks to his unmatched speed and decisiveness. Whenever any one of his brothers or Falling Rain might falter, South appeared at their side, sometimes to kill and other times simply to delay so that his comrades might have time to recover. One moment, he stood on the left, blocking a killing thrust aimed at North’s blind spot, and the next he was across the room delivering an overhand smash to distract West’s would be killer. An invisible Deflection here, a deadly feint there, South’s contributions were the most subtle of the bunch, but undoubtedly the most effective as he set matters up for his brothers to succeed.

And these were merely all the actions Goujian was able to track and categorize in the three seconds it took to Heal his internal injuries and regain feeling in his limbs. North and West were seemingly able to attack using their voices as well, uttering monosyllabic shouts every now and then that made their foes freeze in their tracks. One or two Chosen fell to the ground dead without a single mark on their bodies, and Goujian suspected this to be East’s work, though he had no idea how it was even possible. Then there was South, who throughout it all never once lifted his focus from Goujian, the mere pressure from this formidable existence’s attention enough to make his body break out in cold sweat.

And of course, Falling Rain was still full of surprises, fighting tooth and nail at the forefront of the monks, only for his sword to inexplicably emerge from its sheath to claim the life of yet another Half-Step Divinity. The Wraiths were next to useless in this battle thanks to Falling Rain’s efforts, somehow able to not only spot the Concealed killers, but also inform the Four Heavenly Kings of their positions in real time while fighting for dear life. How could one man be so phenomenally talented in so many areas? Goujian cursed the Heavens for enabling the enemy so, for while this was no doubt a trial and tribulation to overcome, why did it have to come in the form of a hateful youth? Make it an old, experienced, venerable Peak Expert Warrior instead, and so much of Goujian’s antipathy would be assuaged, for then at least he could blame his inadequacies on his foe’s diligent practice. Instead, Falling Rain succeeded on mere talent and luck alone, an outrageous existence considering he was barely over twenty-one years old, and doubly frustrating considering he supposedly didn’t step foot along the Martial Path until the late age of twelve.

A thread of despair wormed its way into existence from within Goujian’s psyche, but he refused to allow it any purchase to take root. So what if the runt was talented beyond belief? Goujian was still his match, so it was time to put his pride away and treat this child like the worthy foe he was. As the Bloody Confessor, his Martial prowess had never been worthy of renown, but famed Peak Experts still trembled at the sound of his name, for his blade was guided by the Heavens themselves. Though the Imperial Clan succeeded in blinding him with their lies for a time, his eyes were clear now and his purpose set. Falling Rain must die, and it was Goujian’s mission to make it so.

Not because the Wisdom asked him to, but because Falling Rain’s existence was an affront to the Heavens. No one could be so phenomenally talented and lucky, no one, so it only stood to reason that his achievements were obtained through defiance of Natural Law, which explained what they all felt before arriving at the Abbot’s abode. The runt was an anomaly and aberration who threatened to overturn the Laws of Heaven, a heretic Goujian and the Chosen of Heaven were duty bound to kill, and kill they would, even if they all had to die in the process of delivering Heaven’s justice. His direction set, Goujian’s chest burned with the flames of righteous zeal and indefatigable purpose, just like they had in the days of yore when he Cleansed the provinces of the Father’s foul taint, and the Heavens responded to his wholehearted devotion. The Razor’s Edge buffeted him about in its wake, but he clung to sanity and found Insight within the tumultuous chaos, and with it, he would fulfill his Holy Duty and kill Falling Rain once and for all.

Casting aside his borrowed greatsword, Goujian deployed his Domain and compressed it down until it was barely past his skin, Plating his body as he once Plated the greatsword. There was no need to familiarize himself with the weapon, for as Falling Rain impudently stated, “I am the Sword” and “The Sword is me”. The end result was a doubling of Goujian’s physical resilience, his toughness unmatched and his strength increasing by leaps and bounds as he veiled himself in a Shroud of Reinforcement, one that emerged so easily he barely even had to think. Dropping to all fours, he settled back on his haunches and sprung headfirst into action, utilizing a Movement from a Form that had yet to be defined, the Frog or Toad Form perhaps, or possibly even the Cicada or some other creature. Where the movement stemmed from was not important, only that Goujian was able to use it to full effect, crashing headlong into Falling Rain with both fist extended to send the runt barrelling back into the stone wall.

Emerging from the cloud of dust before it finished billowing out, Falling Rain seemed none the worse for wear after their trade and responded with a powerful overhanded blow with his glaive. Crossing his forearms to block the attack, Goujian was delighted to discover that the boy was strong, but not oppressively so, and fast, but not impossible to follow. An error in judgment on Goujian’s part, for he had progressed so far so quickly, he had yet to acclimate to the reality of his new station. Here, at the Peak of Martial might, a single careless moment was enough for a foe to deliver half a dozen deadly strikes, so when Falling Rain opened with such an overwhelming attack, Goujian allowed fear to overcome logic and miscalculated the runt’s true strength as being above his own. It wasn’t, because while Goujian had indeed neglected his mind and spirit, his body was unmatched by any under Heaven.

Easily stopping the boy’s counterattack, Goujian sank down and sprang forward to deliver a punishing blow aimed at the boy’s midsection, one aimed to break his spine and end this farce once and for all. Cloud-Stepping in place, the runt narrowly avoided the attack by leaping over Goujian’s head, only to catch a backhanded blow to the shoulder for his troubles. Twisting about to control his descent, the runt put on an impressive display of acrobatics, but Goujian was upon him before his feet touched the ground to deliver a straightforward drop-kick to the chest. The air rushed from the runt’s lungs and his gasps were music to one’s ears, but his heels dug twin furrows in the hardened stone floor as he slid meters back and away. Unable to wholly control his retreat, the boy was forced to backflip in order to disperse the remaining force of the attack, affording Goujian the opportunity to close the distance with a standing vault. Whilst still in the air, he brought his interlaced fingers down in a two-handed smash, striking the runt’s raised shield and driving him down to his knees with an audible crunch. A second smash was blocked again, and the boy sank into the stone as if it were mud instead, his bones fracturing beneath the force of Goujian’s fury, but aside from a single muted grunt, the hateful runt refused to cry out in pain.

Driven to fury by his foe’s stubborn silence, Goujian howled in wordless rage while unleashing a storm of punches, kicks, elbows, knees, and headbutts. Weathering it all beneath his upraised shield, the runt struggled to get away, but Goujian would not allow it, battering his target from side to side and smashing him off balance every time he seemed close to recovery. Flesh ruptured, bones fractured, and organs jostled about, but the runt endured it all without a sound and refused to simply give up. Worst of all, no matter where he aimed, every one of Goujian’s attacks kept landing on the runt’s hateful shield, allowing this affront to Heaven keep his dog life just that much longer. “Why?” Goujian asked, speaking through gritted teeth while delivering a flurry of heavy blows. “Won’t. You. Die?”

Finally out of breath, Goujian slowed down every so slightly and allowed an infinitesimal pause to slip into his barrage of attacks, one that the runt took full advantage of. Emerging from the ditch he’d been beaten into, Falling Rain’s shield smashed into Goujian’s chin even as the glaive thrust towards his heart. The first blow rocked him back, but he still managed to grab hold of the crossbar and stop the more deadly of the two attacks, only there was no weight behind the glaive. Belatedly recognizing the distraction for what it was, he backpedalled away only for his leg to give out under his weight, for the hateful savage’s sword was now embedded in his ankle. Even as he fell, the blade tore itself free from Goujian’s flesh and returned to the runt’s hand, just as the firelight flickered to reveal him in all his glory.

One eye swollen and sealed shut. Jaw broken and unhinged. Nose smashed flat and unable to breathe. Arms bruised and fractured, but still usable. Ribs cracked, shoulders slumped, torso covered in black and blue, Falling Rain was battered and bloodied, but unbroken as he stood tall over his falling foe. “Haven’t you heard?” The boy Sent, even as he exploded into motion. “I’m the Undying Savage.”

The cave came alive with music as Falling Rain landed a whirlwind of blows upon Goujian’s body, and no matter how he tried to defend himself, his mind was too addled to adequately defend himself. Even though he’d taken great pains to shield his physical brain from concussion, the runt’s shield bash had contained no small amount of Reverberation which jostled Goujian’s brain until it bled. Healing it was only a matter of time, time the savage would not allow him as he tested Goujian’s every last defence with sword and shield. Eyes, throat, heart, belly, groin, and even his feet, not a single square centimetre of Goujian’s body escaped Falling Rain’s attentions as he returned what he received two fold. Though the blade was unable to find purchase in Goujian’s flesh, the pain was immeasurable as Falling Rain uncovered each and every flaw in Goujian’s reforged body. The skin beneath his fingernails. The bottom arch of his heel. The back of his knees. The base of his spine. The divot in his hip. Falling Rain tested all these areas with his weapons and set Goujian to howling, but so long as he remained intact, then this concussion would pass, and then he would have his -

Agony blossomed and Goujian’s vision went white with pain, only to clear up just in time to witness his right forearm hurtling up into the air, casting a spray of blood about the abode as it went. Raising his left hand in abject denial, Goujian watched as the boy’s sword clove through his fingers with one stroke, then carved off the whole hand on the return swing, only to slam down and pierce through Goujian’s knee and pin him to the ground. Plating, skin, flesh, and bone, none of it proved any barrier to Falling Rain’s weapons, and Goujian lay helpless before the Undying Savage, hoping for mercy he knew would not come.

“You’re too fucking tall,” the savage Sent, his upper lip curled in a snarl even as his jaw set itself, his injuries Healing so quickly they almost seemed like a trick of the eye, an illusion put forth to lull Goujian into complacency. “And too fucking fast too.” Extending his free hand to catch his returning glaive, Falling Rain flicked his wrist and took off Goujian’s unpinned leg at the thigh before the weapon collapsed in on itself, forming an oddly balanced sword that was almost like an axe in the way it was balanced, but the blade was the least of Goujian’s worries.

“How?” Goujian asked, unable to understand what just happened. “My Domain Plating... my Spiritual Heart... You shouldn’t have been able to cut me. Your blade should have glanced off my flesh and left you vulnerable to my attacks. This isn’t possible. This is impossible. I am the one Chosen by Heaven. I am the one who Seeks the Truth.”

“How?” Shrugging, the savage hefted his weapon and pointed it at Goujian’s head, leaving him staring down the hollow centre of an otherwise empty pipe. “Well, turns out, swords and Auras aren’t the only thing you can Hone.” A statement that made no sense, but Falling Rain did not seem interested in expounding on the matter, denying Goujian even this simple request. “As for the rest of what you said...” Narrowing his amber eyes, Falling Rain flexed his Healed jaw and spoke out loud for all to hear, as Chosen, Wraith, and Monk alike stopped to witness their exchange. “You called yourself the Bloody Confessor, claimed you were carrying out the Mother’s Justice, uncovering the Enemy within our ranks only to purge away their unholy taint, and now you dare declare yourself a Chosen of Heaven?” Spitting out a broken tooth, Falling Rain grimaced and snarled, “All lies you told yourself to justify the horrors you wrought.”

“I was misled and misguided,” Goujian stammered, wondering why he felt the need to justify his own actions. He still had his pride and would not beg for mercy, so better to hold his tongue and accept death with dignity. “I did what I thought was right.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Falling Rain intoned, before jamming his weapon into Goujian’s mouth. “But you, you never had good intentions. You are a proud sadist, a power-hungry degenerate who gets off on pain and despair. I bet someone hurt you when you were young, someone you loved. What did they do, hm? No, don’t answer. I don’t care. You took that pain and decided the Heavens were unjust, so you would deliver your own twisted justice in their place. You told yourself you were doing the Mother’s work, but there is no justice in what you did.” Pressing his weapon deeper into Goujian’s mouth, his honed blade dug painfully into flesh without completely severing the nerves there. Squirming beneath the pressure, Goujian could do naught but suffer as Falling Rain continued, “Why else would you have picked Han BoLao as your successor? If it’s loyal Aspirants you wanted, there were plenty for you to choose from, but you deliberately took an innocent young woman and moulded her into a monster like yourself. You took her from her loving family and twisted her mind until she didn’t know right from wrong, and in doing so, you justified your own cause, because if you were wrong, then surely someone like Han BoLao would resist, right?”

Though he wanted to explain his thoughts and actions, to voice his regrets and contrition, Goujian’s words froze in his throat as a confluence of Heavenly Energy gathered around them. Power filled the strange axe-sword, power emanating from the palm of Falling Rain’s hand, and in his despair, Goujian knew there was nothing he could do to stop this. Helpless and afraid, he gave in to his fate as he gazed into his hateful foe’s amber eyes, glimmering from over top of his weapon. “For your countless crimes against humanity,” Falling Rain began, condensing the Energy of the Heavens into his strange, Spiritual Launcher until everyone present could sense the power it contained, “For BoLao, BoShui, Uncle BoHai, and so many more, I sentence you to death.”

Then the world exploded into pain and darkness, and Goujian knew no more.

Chapter Meme