Savage Divinity

Having borne witness to what might well have been most phenomenal display of tactical command the Empire had ever seen, Yan prayed no one would ever ask her to recount her experience, because the truth was far from ideal.

After dismissing his entire command cadre, Brigadier Hongji seated himself in his office chair and stared off into nothingness for several hours in complete silence and stillness. That was all Yan saw, and for the first few minutes, she worried that the good Brigadier had succumbed to despair and given up the good fight, an outcome that left her reeling with dismay and disappointment. Usually, the office would be a bustling hub filled with junior officers and aides rattling off status reports received through Sending and the Brigadier narrating his commands to be passed along in his stead, either through Sending again or sealed and written orders to be delivered by readied and waiting messengers. None of that was present here today, with only Yan and her elites acting as guards for the good Brigadier as he sat motionless in his chair, but the constant sounds of fighting off in the distance told her the army was still resisting and the absence of Defiled knocking at the Bulwark gates meant they were doing a passable job of it.

Yan was a hair’s breadth away from going over Hongji’s head to report his ‘dereliction’ of duty, but Kyung assured her the good Brigadier was still actively Sending orders out in a flurry of unseen activity. It wasn’t until some hours later after Brigadier Hongji recalled his command cadre and ordered her to stand down and await further orders that Yan learned what the good commander had accomplished over the last half day, somehow single-handedly coordinating a shockingly effective Citadel-wide defence without any need for support. Logically, this shouldn’t have been possible given how one man could only focus on so many events at once, which was why commanders kept a cadre on hand to help sort through all the Sendings and give perspective of the overall tactical situation. However, according to Da’in, who Yan ran into while checking on Auntie Jeong and Geom-Chi, Brigadier Hongji had not only taken complete control of the battlefield all by his lonesome, he’d somehow found the ability to micromanage each and every unit out in the field to astonishing effect. Having fought in the streets herself for hours with minimal rest, Da’in expressed her heartfelt admiration for the Brigadier’s abilities and told a tale of how he personally guided her to not only ambush and slaughter multiple unsuspecting Defiled patrols, but also gave her step by step instructions on how to escape unharmed and avoid Enemy reprisal.

“It was amazing,” Da’in sighed, discarding her damp facecloth now covered in blood while taking her sleeping brother’s hand. “As if he were there standing with me, cloaked in Concealment and relaying every move the Enemy made. Each time they turned away or let down their guard, we hit them hard and faded away, sometimes mere seconds before Enemy reinforcements arrived. It wasn’t just my retinue either; I linked up with allies several times over the course of the afternoon who told me similar tales, and we worked together to hit bigger and stronger targets. We never emerged unscathed, but we made the Enemy bleed, Yan.” Eyes flashing with anger and enmity, Da’in whispered, “And we are not done yet. They still have much to pay for, a debt I intend to collect with interest.”

Reaching over to take the poor girl’s other hand, Yan gave Kyung a sideways glance, signalling him to come comfort Da’in who’d just lost her father, but the mule-headed fool ignored her well-meaning advice and stood by the door like a lowly guard. What Da’in saw in him, Yan would never know, but when the Sword Princess of Central confessed her attraction to Yan’s idiot brother, he had the gall to reject her. “It would not be proper,” was his answer, and when Yan asked about it, Kyung merely repeated the sentiment, adding, “I would be a toad lusting after swan’s flesh, and she a flower planted in dog-shit. A pairing between us would only bring her scorn and dishonour, as it rightly should.”

Idiot. Yan knew Da’in didn’t care about such petty things, but Kyung would not budge on the matter. While she could have gone to Grandpa for help, she didn’t because she worried he would see things the same way. Much as he loved Kyung and Yan both, Grandpa knew how cruel the people of Central could be, especially to half-beasts like his beloved grandchildren. The fact that Kyung was technically an Oath-bound slave didn’t help matters one whit, and Yan could already hear the insults that would be hurled his way if word slipped out that Central’s much sought-after Sword Princess had taken a half-cat slave as her lover, with talk of toads and dog-shit being considered polite.

Never mind how men bedded slaves and prostitutes all the time and were celebrated for their masculinity, a double standard Yan sorely resented. Even Rain, her beloved fool of a husband whom she loved dearly and was more broadminded than anyone she knew, saw no issue with taking multiple wives, yet always made that same conflicted, unhappy face whenever Yan subtly brought up the possibility of one day finding a boy-toy to idle her time away with while he was busy with his other wives. Unfair is what it was, but there was nothing she could do except keep her complaints to herself, lest Grandpa, Sarnai, Akanai, or worst of all, Alsantset find out about Yan’s secret desire for a harem of handsome boy-toys to keep her company once Rain got a little too old and slow to keep up.

It was only prudent to look after her needs after all...

Having cleaned up from his battle atop the outer walls, Grandpa arrived with brow furrowed and eyes moist as he sought to comfort Da’in, all contrite and apologetic as she burst into tears inside his warm embrace. Shooting a glance at Kyung telling him in no uncertain terms that this should have been his job, Yan’s heart ached for poor Da’in who until this very moment had appeared so strong and unyielding. It was a part she played, the cunning, calculating, fox-eyed Sword Princess who dominated her foes with an iron fist, when in truth Da’in was a free spirit similar to Yan, except she didn’t have the good fortune to have someone like Rain on her side, someone who encouraged her to find her own way instead of merely doing what was expected of her. Before her father rose to prominence as the Sword King of Central, the Ryo family ranked among the lowest of nobility, still better off than a peasant family but borderline destitute from keeping up appearances, a fate which was all too common in the cutthroat politics of Central. The appearance of poverty and weakness was worse than actually being poor and weak, because at least then others would be expected to give the appearance of face. For this reason alone, much of the Ryo family’s fate rested on Da’in’s broad shoulders, as anything less than excellence would have been grounds for her family’s enemies to disparage their lineage as a one generation wonder and treat them as the temporary powerhouse they appeared to be.

Had she been anything less than the Number One Talent of her generation, Da’in would have been criticized to no end as a sparrow daughter to a hawk father, but even then, her strength was not respected as it should have been. Instead, the other families saw her as a prize to be won and sought to have her marry into their families instead, which was why the beautiful flower of Central was going on thirty years a virgin. Such a lamentable fate for a woman as loyal and unconstrained as Da’in, and Yan even once subtly suggested Da’in might find happiness alongside her as one of Rain’s wives, but the proud woman would have none of it, as she wanted a husband all to herself, one who would marry into the Ryo Family.

And now, all of Da’in’s filial efforts might have been for naught, for her father, the Sword King Ryo Dae Jung, had fallen in battle, slain in single combat by the traitorous Mataram Patriarch.

Thankfully, Auntie Jeong survived thanks to Eccentric Gam’s efforts, and Fung and Seoyoon had managed to rescue poor Geom-Chi from Hideo’s Defiled clutches, but they were both grievously injured and would have no further part in the battle any longer, not unless the Enemy held off for another few days. Having displayed skills comparable to her dragon of a husband, Auntie Jeong should’ve received the finest care from the Healers to ensure she got back into the fight as soon as possible, but there was something insidious about the wounds she’d taken at the hands of the Amber-Eyed demon Warrior, some malignant force that prevented the Healers from restoring her to full health. There was no threat to her life, but it would take time and multiple Healing sessions to mend her wounds, time they did not have. As for Geom-Chi, the sad truth of the matter was that his strength did not warrant the attentions of a Healer, whose efforts were a limited resource to be closely guarded. At least his life was no longer in any danger, but he would be weeks, if not months in the mending without the help of a Healer, assuming he survived to see the next day.

A fate Yan might well share, if matters continued along their current course.

No, this defeatist thinking would do her no good, so Yan rallied her spirits and focused on the positives, like Grandpa Du’s staggering accomplishments in the battle thus far. Not twenty four hours past, the entire Citadel had chanted his name as he raised the Sanguine Tempest atop the secondary walls, and Yan could not have been any prouder. When he returned, he was a man changed, no longer slouching or limping out of habit but instead standing tall and walking proud like a true hero of the Empire should. Even in the twilight of his life, Du Min Gyu was still a force to be reckoned with, especially in large scale engagements where his true skills could shine, a fact he reaffirmed a second time while fighting on the eastern walls to keep the Defiled cavalry at bay. After a full day of fighting and slaughtering untold numbers of Defiled and Demons, the worst injury Grandpa suffered on the battlefield was a blow to his pride, for it was clear he blamed himself for Ryo Dae Jung’s death.

Which was hardly fair. Grandpa’s strength did not lie in single combat, so it’s not as if he could have done anything to save the Sword King from the monstrous Mataram Patriarch. Even Da’in said as much, and though Grandpa stopped trying to apologize in so many words, his actions and attitude showed he had yet to relent, and was only easing back on the apologies so Da’in could grieve without guilt. The half-demon Warriors were an alarming new weapon in the Enemy’s vast and seemingly endless arsenal, and as far as Yan could tell, they were some sort of fiendish amalgamation of man and ‘organic’ armour-shaped Demons, human flesh intertwined with demon tissues the same way Gen had fused with his Runic armour on the fields of Sinuji.

The sight of these half-demon Warriors filled Yan with dread and trepidation for many reasons. Their baleful Aura for one, their vast numbers for two, and their iron discipline for three, as well as how formidable the end result had proved to be. With her own two eyes, she’d seen Ryo Dae Jung unleash a series of devastating attacks against the Mataram Patriarch, only for the cuts and furrows left behind in the dark, writhing armour to leak Ichor before resealing themselves in a matter of seconds. Then there was the presence of an Amber-Eyed demon Warrior, a trait Yan had never seen in anyone apart from the People, a fact which Rain’s political enemies might use against him. None of this scared Yan more than seeing hundreds of demon Warriors however, ones bearing antlered horns so similar to her own, protruding straight up from their foreheads to end in two, wicked points.

Meaning that Yan’s Sire, the Ancestral Beast who fathered her, was likely fighting on the side of the Defiled.

There was no way she’d been the only one to notice it, but thus far, not a single person had made any sort of comment about it. Not Grandpa, Kyung, Da’in, or even Yan’s close-mouthed yet brutally honest second, Sutah, no one mentioned her connection to the Enemy, nor had she caught any strangers, enemies, or even passing rank-and-file soldiers looking at her strangely, but Yan was devastated when she saw so many older half-siblings appear on the battlefield clad in Demonized armour. How did this happen? How did she escape the same fate? There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but no one to give her any answers. For so many years, she wondered if there would come a day when she might meet her birth mother, father, or half-blooded siblings, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would be under these dire circumstance. Despite having found a happy family to call her own, she felt robbed of the chance to truly confront her birth parents and say, “I did just fine without you.”

Not that an Ancestral Beast would care, especially not a Defiled one...

Reminding herself again that this was not the time for these forlorn thoughts, Yan struggled to push her intrusive questions aside and keep a level head. It helped being here with Grandpa, Kyung, Da’in, and Auntie Jeong, none of whom were related to Yan by blood but treated her like family nonetheless. Over the last few weeks, Auntie Jeong had taken Yan under her wing and treated her like a daughter, not with the warm, comforting love Yan once associated with a Mother, but with a stern, steely determination to see her succeed. At first, the nonstop lessons in politics, decorum, tactics, and combat had grated on Yan’s nerves, but Auntie Jeong never showed any sign of anger or impatience, only limitless compassion and emphatic support through these trying times.

“While your husband is away,” Auntie Jeong said, “It falls to you to uphold his honour as his wife and partner. Commander General Shuai Jiao has taken away Falling Rain’s authority, but whether he is able to keep hold of it is a matter of contention, so you must do what you can to support your husband, even if that simply means doing your duty without fail.”

And so, with Auntie Jeong’s help, Yan recruited enough soldiers to fill her five-thousand strong retinue and then some, without needing to rely on Luo-Luo for anything more than financial assistance. Truth be told, the beautiful and diligent Imperial Consort could have found five-thousand Experts to fill Yan’s ranks with ease, drawing them from the People, theStormguard, the Aspirants, and other clandestine sources, but Yan wanted her retinue to hail from Central and Central alone. She was Rain’s connection to this most political of provinces, tenuous as it might be, which was all the more reason to strengthen her ties here and trade on her twin statuses as grand-daughter of Du Min Gyu and Knight of the Hwarang.

Barely a half-hour had passed since Grandpa’s return when someone came to fetch him again, one of Commander General Shuai Jiao’s runners here to make sure the Sanguine Tempest still had some breath left in him yet. Looking older and more tired than ever, Grandpa rose to the occasion with a glint in his eye, one that spoke volumes to his bold determination. No doubt he meant to seek out the Mataram Patriarch to try and avenge Ryo Dae Jung, but Yan knew it would be the death of him if he did. Perhaps Grandpa knew as well, which was why he took a precious moment to say goodbye to Yan and Kyung both, not in so many words exactly, but with a warm smile and comforting hug that neither of them would ever forget. “Look after one another,” he said, patting their cheeks in turn, and Yan’s tears threatened to spill out as he did. “That is all I ask of you, my sweet, beloved grandchildren.”

“Take care of yourself too, Grandpa,” Yan said, choking back a sob and the urge to beg him to stay away from the Mataram Patriarch and leave him for someone else, but there was no one else to fight him. Ryo Dae Jung was not the only Peak Expert of Central to fall today, and there were precious few top talents left to contend with the Enemy. Aside from Commander General Shuai Jiao, Grandpa might well be the strongest Warrior still standing in the Central Citadel, meaning he had no choice but to try and contain the Mataram Patriarch on the battlefield, even at the cost of his life.

Soon after Grandpa stepped out, another messenger came for Yan, someone she recognized well. Looking delicious adorned in golden Imperial Armour with his hair in a bejewelled man-bun, Yong-Jin entered the room without knocking, as befitting of the Commander General’s one and only Disciple. “Your presence is required,” he said, after uttering the requisite condolences with a startling lack of emotion and sincerity, especially considering how his summons was not just for Yan, but Da’in, Seoyoon, and Fung as well. “The Enemy are readying to attack, and the Commander General would like to go over a few points of strategy before-hand.”

Though Yan wanted to try and spare Da’in and Seoyoon, the Ryo Family’s youngest daughter was no wilting violet. “Lead the way,” she said, leaving her brother’s side for the first time in hours, a dutiful younger sister so unlike how the rumours painted her. True, she was a bit frigid and matter-of-fact, but she was still a young, sheltered girl who knew little of the hardships of life, so seeing her father killed and her mother and brother injured must have shaken her so, but she rallied admirably in the short time since. Mostly due to Fung’s support no doubt, a calm and dependable pillar to rely on. If only Kyung would take notes from him on how to behave, though only in this particular scenario, as Yan wouldn’t want her block-headed brother spouting poetry whilst gallivanting from one whorehouse to the next.

Then again, it’d been some time since she heard tale of Fung’s sordid adventures, so it was possible Seoyoon had truly tamed the wayward young magistrate, though politically, their pairing made no sense. Shen Huo was too far for either family to support one another in times of need, and the Ryo family would need staunch allies in the years to come if they wanted to survive long enough for Da’in to become a Peak Expert. Sometimes love just wasn’t enough, and Yan counted herself blessed for having found love with her sweet, stupid husband.

Commander General Shuai Jiao’s speech was given from the Bulwark’s central balcony, a basic, rousing appeal to their courage, loyalty, filial piety, and nationalism so that they might stand firm before the Defiled hordes. Try as she might, Yan could not bring herself to believe him when he claimed they still had a chance, that they only needed to hold out for a ‘short’ time before victory was theirs, but these were things he had to say in order to keep morale up. It wasn’t as if he could say, “Look, the Enemy outnumber us, have more Peak Experts than us, and have us outmatched at the highest echelons of Martial Strength, but somehow, we just need to find some way to survive for half a day until our allies arrive to pull our asses out of the fire.”

Truth be told, Yan could imagine Rain giving a speech like that, only to end it with some stupid, sarcastic statement like, “How hard could it be?” Sometimes, it felt like her fool of a husband did so love to tempt fate, but Yan loved him all the same.

As one of the few units who had yet to fight all day, Yan’s retinue was stationed at a pivotal location, along an inner gatehouse which sat at a four-way crossroads and blocked the only route deeper into the Bulwark along the entire western front. One of many choke-points built into the heart of the Citadel, but considering it was the outermost choke-point and closest to the Enemy army, it meant she would see more than her fair share of action in the coming battle. No matter though, for she was well-rested and well-prepared to play her part, especially with the battered remnants of the Ryo Family retinues attached to her’s. Da’in, Seoyoon, and Geom-Chi’s second were all placed under Yan’s command, even though Da’in technically outranked her given her seniority. No one offered any argument though, least of all Da’in herself, but Yan still quietly made sure her proud god-sister was alright with this arrangement.

“Of course I am,” Da’in replied, giving Yan a look of silent reproach. “Honestly sister, where has all your confidence gone? You are the superior commander, this much is clear, and my efforts will be better spent with swords in hand.” Implying she was still stronger than Yan, and by no small margin either, just the sort of blunt statement one should expect from Ryo Da’in.

With just shy of ten-thousand troops in place, Yan stood atop the battlements to watch and wait, wondering just what the Enemy would do next. As expected, the traitor general emerged to give a speech of his own, one meant to lower morale and break their spirits before the fighting could start anew. Cloud-Stepping up to land lightly atop a raised pole overlooking the entire Bulwark, Bai Qi stood with empty hands folded behind his back as if out for a leisurely stroll. His yellow and black brigantine shone with a polished gleam that paled in comparison to the nauseating lustre of his half-demon allies, proving his armour was of the standard Runic variety and his strength was all his own. This was a man who clearly needed no help from the Father to ascend to such lofty heights, which made his betrayal sting just that much more.

“Men and women of Central,” he began, speaking in the slow, slurred drawl commonly shared by Westerners. “This Prince be Gongsun Qi, Commander General of the Chosen of Heaven.” In JiangHu, he’d introduced himself as a Colonel General and commander of the first army, meaning he’d moved up in the world since then, if only in title. A slim, handsome man with honeyed skin and well-defined features, Bai Qi did not look like a ‘Prince of Barbarity’, but he more than earned the name given his cruel and domineering actions, so Yan reminded herself not to be swayed by the strong, handsome foreigner and his charming accent.

It’d been far too long since she had a chance to... vent her frustrations with Rain, and it was really starting to take a toll on her psyche.

Gazing upon the gathered defenders, Bai Qi offered the barest hint of a sneer. “Know this for true; the Citadel will soon fall. This Prince’s army will march out and slaughter all who stand in our path, leaving naught but death and destruction in our wake. So this shall be, and though you be resolved to defend these walls with your lives, it is a price this Prince will ultimately collect.” Extending a single hand in offer, Bai Qi gestured his audience to come closer and Yan almost stepped forward to obey, so drawn in by his commanding presence and overwhelming charisma. “But it need not end like this. Join this Prince,” Bai Qi continued, his tone taking on the timbre of confident conviction, “For he admires your courage and honour, yet laments to see warriors fight for one without. No, not your commendable Commander General Shuai Jiao, but the dog-Emperor himself, a man who cannot even be bothered to send his lackeys to help in the midst of a calamity such as this.” Spreading his hands in question, he asked, “Where is your Legate? Your Imperial Scions? This Prince sees a scant few-hundred Royal Guardians present, a pittance compared to the armies at the Emperor’s beck and call. Is that all your lives are worth? You think his armies will march once Central falls? No, he will do what he did to my home and my people, close his borders to you and yours, leaving all at the mercy of those without. He cares not for your lives, only for your taxes, so why fight for an Emperor who demands loyalty and offers nothing in return? This Prince means to overthrow the dog Emperor and deliver peace to the Empire, but you stand in his path, leaving only but two options before you: surrender or die. There is nothing left for you besides these two choices, and this Prince cautions you to choose wisely.”

“You offered me the same choice back in JiangHu.” Booming out from the heart of the Bulwark, Brigadier Hongji’s voice echoed across the entire Citadel with a resounding roar. “And I will once again choose the third option, to stand and fight until the cowardly traitors of the Empire turn tail and flee.”

A weak cheer rose from the Imperial ranks in response to the good Brigadier’s rejoinder, but Yan could tell their hearts weren’t in it. Not that she could blame them, as it was one thing to fight when your life was on the line, but another altogether to commit to fighting when offered a chance to leave unscathed. Though the Bulwark walls hid much of the Enemy army from the soldiers on the ground, there were many troops stationed atop the battlements who could see the Defiled numbers stretching out towards the horizon, a seemingly endless horde of feral tribesmen, disciplined Chosen, grotesque Demons, and fearsome demon Warriors, all led by the most ruthless Colonel General alive. “You have made your choice, Brigadier,” Bai Qi replied, not at all put off by the reminder of his defeat. “What of your soldiers then? All men must choose their own fate, and this Prince will graciously afford them three minutes to decide.”

“No need.” Despite his stalwart reputation and formidable strength, Shuai Jiao’s greatest flaw had always been his lacking charisma, or at least that’s what Grandpa Du claimed. Honour and duty stood above all else in Shuai Jiao’s eyes, and he expected the same from those under his command, to behave as he did without need for praise or reward, and such men were rare beasts indeed. So while he might have been the most popular Colonel General of Central when taking the opinion of the common people into account, Shuai Jiao actually had the least amount of support where it counted, among the nobles, merchants, and Martial Warriors, and not without good reason. Without appearing to address his foe, Shuai Jiao uttered, “The soldiers of Central will uphold their duty, no more, and no less. We will live, and you will die, no other outcome is acceptable.”

What followed was a volley of crossbow bolts delivered towards the Defiled army, ending all discussion and initiating hostilities in a manner that left no room for negotiation. Three minutes didn’t seem like much, but with almost twelve hours to go before reinforcements were slated to arrive, every last second was precious indeed. Alas, it appeared as if the Commander General was concerned his soldiers would take up Bai Qi’s offer and further weaken the Imperial position, a fear not without foundation, but his actions showed just how little faith he had in the Warriors of Central.

With nothing left to do except fight, Yan stood her ground and waited for the Enemy to arrive. It didn’t take long before a throng of tribesmen came into sight, waving their crudely made or salvaged weapons as they ran headlong through the passageways towards their imminent demise. Crossbows were nice, but heavy stones thrown from on high were every bit as effective at killing unarmoured Defiled, and Yan’s soldiers had more than enough to spare. A hail of bricks and masonry rained down on their enemies from above as they marched through the tightly packed paths, and while some sought to take cover and retreat, there was nowhere for them to hide as the Defiled behind them pressed forward in ignorance, unable to see the battle at the crossroads due to a sharp turn in the bend. That was the beauty of the Bulwark’s design, meant to herd crazed, murderous Defiled to their untimely demise in small, manageable chunks.

The most amusing part of it all was that if the Defiled stopped charging forward and made an effort to leap over the walls instead, they might actually fare better against the thin line of troops defending the battlements, but packed as they were inside those crowded courtyards and corridors, there was no room to do anything besides follow the crowd, unless one cared to be trampled underfoot.

The Chosen of Heaven were slightly more clever, but not by much, marching in disciplined lockstep down a second corridor to find the tribesmen already assaulting the gates. With nothing to do besides twiddle their thumbs, they stood perfectly still across the courtyard, which made them excellent targets for the eight oversized ballistas mounted over the gatehouse, ones which loosed five spear-length bolts at a time. They weren’t the most accurate of weapons, but considering the bolts barely had to travel more than fifty metres before reaching the tightly packed crowd of Chosen, they flew true enough most of the time. Even though the Chosen’s Runic armour prevented the oversized bolts from piercing their flesh, the sheer weight and velocity of each projectile was enough to shatter bones and crush organs with even a glancing hit, a sight which was both gruesome and wonderful to behold.

The Enemy died in droves as Yan’s soldiers set to work, but matters did not progress without complications. Eventually, the tribesmen cut their way through the steel gate, the concrete barriers, and the ornate, decorative wooden doors as well, at which point they learned firsthand how Ryo Da’in dominated her entire generation so thoroughly everyone else was left scrambling for second place. Her trio of swords slaughtered every enemy who stepped foot into the gatehouse, a whirlwind of death and fury which cut a swathe through the Defiled and left them reeling in place, unsure how to approach this human storm of blades and unable to slow their advance because of the press of ignorant bodies behind them. How many Da’in killed within the confines of the gatehouse, perhaps not even she could say, but with Kyung, Fung, and Seoyoon there to support her and soldiers throwing rocks down from the second level, not a single Defiled made it through the other side of the gates.

Eventually, the Chosen grew weary of dodging ballista bolts with minimal success and pressed forward into the fray, and not a moment too soon either. Having long since taken the measure of Da’in’s endurance, Yan ordered her god-sister to fall back and jumped down to take her place, but rather than head into the gatehouse to fight in extreme close quarters, Yan gathered her elites in a semi-circle along the inner courtyard instead. Standing at the centre of the concave line, she gently waved her Battle-Fan left to right and back again, gathering the air to her beck and call while Honing it along the edge of her blade. At the same time, she twirled her weapon about, slowly at first, then increasing her speed as momentum built up and overcame resistance, like the blades of a windmill catching the breeze, and slowly but surely gaining in power over time.

When Rain likened the Mountain Collapsing Stomp to gradually building up a wave, Yan struggled to make sense of it, but then she realized it was merely a matter of perspective. The same general principles were at work here, or at least similar ones in theory, similar enough to allow her to create her own variant of the Mountain Collapsing Stomp after months of intense trial and error.

Or, as she liked to call it, the Forest Clearing Gale, which she unleashed the moment the first Chosen of Heaven stepped through the gates.

Her attack was nothing like Grandpa Du’s massive Wind Blades, a singular Honed edge that swept through his foes with impunity. Instead, Yan’s attack arrived in the form of a coiling, swirling twister, a rotating column air attached to her spinning battle-fan which she sent hurtling deep into Enemy lines to spit out hundreds of finger-length Honed Wind blades with every rotation. There was more to it than she understood, something about alternating pressure as well as hot and cold fronts, but she knew it well enough to replicate, and that was good enough. Though the windstorm lasted for all of a single second, it travelled fast and far enough to pierce through the entire column of Chosen, leaving a trail of dead and wounded Defiled in its wake. So surprised by the efficiency of her attack, Yan stood with mouth agape before shutting her jaw with an audible click, one that echoed off the walls of the now silent courtyard as ally and enemy alike stared at her in visible awe.

Someone must have said it first, but Yan had no idea who, for the next thing she knew, every Imperial present was chanting, “The Sanguine Whirlwind! The Sanguine Whirlwind!”

Flattering as it was to be compared to Grandpa, Yan’s work was far from over. Although her attack required a tremendous amount of Chi, her Core had swelled greatly in the last year or so, especially in the last few months, to the point where she had more Chi than she knew what to do with most days. The lack of a Natal Palace was no longer so crippling once she had vast reserves of Chi to practice with in the waking world, but more importantly, she’d experienced a series of Insights whilst meditating in Taduk’s grove that showed her how to make more efficient use of her Wind Chi. All in all, her Forest Clearing Gale took almost a quarter of her Chi reserves, which was incredible considering that not too long ago, she could barely manage a few dozen Wind Blades without collapsing on her feet.

Which meant the Enemy did not expect her to have a second Forest Clearing Gale in her to give, much less a third, a fact Yan used to lure two more groups of Chosen to their unsightly death over the next thirty minutes.

Of course, she wasn’t idle during the time in between, and soon she truly had almost nothing left to give, the Energy of the Heavens surging into her Core as quickly as it could, yet barely amounting to more than a single handful of water for a woman dying of thirst. Lungs burning and head throbbing, Yan fought with battle-fan and shield in hand, and out of hand more often than not. Throwing her shield took surprising little Chi so long as she angled it right, and while it failed to measure up to the destructive power of her Forest Clearing Gale, with the gatehouse walls to ricochet off of, the balanced shield did admirably in its own right and allowed her to hold the Enemy at bay for a little while longer.

Until a young, mousy scholar of monk with narrow, pointed eyes and a lanky frame appeared alongside two-dozen Half-demon Warriors.

“Be grateful harlot,” he hissed, smashing her shield aside mid-air as he appeared without warning. His sword slashed at Yan’s abdomen and she avoided it mostly with luck and good timing, as she’d already been moving to intercept her returning shield. “For soon, you will learn the taste of a real man. Falling Rain took my father away from me, so I, Yuanyin, will take something of his.” The senseless statement was delivered amidst a flurry of deadly attacks, and Yan barely registered the words much less the meaning behind them, nor did she recognize the name or know who his father was. Frantically fighting to stay alive, she let her mind relax and focused without focusing, seeking nothing and finding every detail available to her, details which helped her stay ahead of her formidable foe. This Yuanyin was stronger than her, but not faster, nor was he all that coordinated, moving like a gangly teen who had yet to acclimate to his latest growth spurt. Even then, his awkward strikes came close to crippling Yan more than once as she dodged, weaved, blocked, and Deflected for all she was worth. Sutah tried to come to her rescue, brave man that he was, bringing his giant sabre about in a sweeping, overhead strike, but the monk blocked Sutah’s best attack without even trying and the riposte tore open the southerner from hip to hip. The attack would’ve hacked him into two pieces if it wasn’t for Da’in’s interference, pulling Sutah back to relative safety while driving her sword at the monk’s throat, but against all expectations, Da’in’s attack missed, slipping past the monk’s throat and missing its intended target by the barest of margins.

But not without leaving an opening for Yan to press the attack.

Punching with the edge of her shield, she slammed it home against the monk’s shoulder, only to find no purchase against his clothes or flesh. A powerful Deflection then, one so innate it seemed as if her foe had no need to even concentrate to utilize it. Having over-committed to what she thought would be a fatal attack, Yan paid the price for her haste as the monk reared his head back and slammed his forehead into her nose, a move she was not in the habit of being on the receiving end. Bone crunched and the world spun until she landed softly in someone’s arms, a strong and familiar presence who carried her away from the fight as Kyung took her place, giving Yan time to Heal her broken nose and get her thoughts in order again.

Only to discover that her soldiers were being slaughtered by the half-demon Warriors.

Fung did his best to hold them off, but he alone was far from enough as the monstrous beings rampaged through the Imperial lines. The Amber-Eyed Warrior wasn’t here, nor was the Mataram Patriarch, but even these lesser half-demon Warriors were too much for her troops to handle. A single second passed as she watched dozens of her people slaughtered with ease, their best efforts far from enough to preserve their precious lives. Though these half-demon Warriors were not quite Peak Experts, their raw power, speed, and unholy armour more than made up for their deficiencies, meaning even Kyung might struggle to defeat one in single combat.

And here, in the courtyard Yan had been ordered to defend, two dozen of the inhuman killing machines were making short work of her troops.

A second of hesitation was one second too many, and Yan cursed her stupidity even as she pushed her rescuer aside to charge back into the fray, only to curse herself again as her legs refused to listen. A concussion, one she hadn’t noticed in her state of shock, hardly surprising considering she was... well, concussed. Stumbling on two legs that threatened to collapse under her weight, Yan teetered unevenly towards her intended target and watched with bated breath as the half-demon Warrior haphazardly launched the blow that would kill her. Time slowed as death approached, but Yan was wholly at peace with herself, not exactly ready to die, but not dreading death either. Strange how she felt so indifferent to her fate, as if she were somehow entirely uninvolved with her own life or death, because...

Because she finally realized whose familiar arms she’d fallen into.

Looking more handsome than she remembered him, his strong hands held her up as his piercing amber eyes regarded her with love and concern, all while fending off the offending half-demon Warrior with laughable ease. “Hello, beloved wife,” Rain whispered, radiating warm affection and blazing hot anger in alternating pulses, combined with a tangle of jumbled emotions Yan could not pick out, but she knew he loved her dearly and that was enough. “Take it easy,” he continued, as a warm rush of Chi surged through her and took away all her pain, her concussion cleared and nose unbroken in an instant. The coagulating blood dripping down her nose and chin was the only proof she’d been injured at all, and she found she was not surprised to learn that he’d Healed her, only proud that he’d come so far.

Of course it was just Yan’s luck to be a sweaty, bloody, unsightly mess the first time her husband laid eyes on her in weeks. Even then, she could sense the love and lust in his gaze as he helped her to her feet, before he turned aside out of shame and need, shame because he wanted to kiss her here on the battlefield, and need because good soldiers were dying as he delayed. “You’ve got some nerve,” he said, fixating on the half-demon Warrior that almost killed her, “Attacking my wife like that!”

A part of Yan knew she should be somewhat upset, because she was a strong, independent person with her own dreams and aspirations, ones that were entirely separate from Rain. She was his wife, but the way he said it made it sound like she belonged to him, a possession to be closely guarded or flaunted on occasion. Logically, that was how she should feel, but when she heard the tone he used to say it and the surge of outrage that came along with it, she couldn’t help but swoon on her feet in a way that had nothing to do with her recent concussion.

The things she would do to him once this battle was over...

Disappearing from her side in the blink of an eye, Rain sent his opponent’s head flying through the air. Only then did Yan see the sword in his hand, Peace reforged through some miracle of Heaven which not even Akanai or Teacher Du could understand. More to the point, Tranquility was also strapped to his wrist, and Unity driven into the ground a few metres away, his body, mind, and weapons all back in working condition as he slaughtered the half-demon Warriors as easily as turning a hand, carving through most before they even noticed he was there. Yan blinked and almost missed it all, a dozen of those fearsome foes falling victim to Peace as it sliced through them without effort, some working of Concealment hiding his presence with frightening effectiveness. Tranquility scored a kill or two as well, though how, Yan failed to see, and before long, the half-demon Warriors had all withdrawn leaving the formidable monk on his lonesome.

Again, Rain disappeared only to reappear in front of Yuanyin, but this time, Peace missed its intended target. Having moved thirty or more metres in less time than it took to blink, the bookish Defiled stood behind a taller, older monk, this one with long, silken eyebrows that stretched past his chin. A Peak Expert at the minimum, one who fought Commander General Shuai Jiao to a standstill in single combat, and Yan’s heart skipped a beat as she glanced frantically about for Rain’s protectors.

Not Rain though. Fool that he was, he charged headlong into the fray, and Yan only pieced together what happened after the fact.

Rather than thrust with his sword, Rain threw it instead, forcing the older monk to dodge not once, but twice as Rain summoned his weapon back to hand. At the same time, he drove Tranquility towards the monk’s abdomen, while summoning Unity to hand as well, which he used to thrust at Yuanyin as if intent on killing the man. The Eyebrowed Monk parried Tranquility and forcibly stopped Unity by grabbing the cross-guard, movements Rain apparently anticipated and prepared for by driving his boot into the monk’s stomach and unleashing a Mountain Collapsing Stomp, one which sent the formidable Peak Expert hurtling back into the corridor from whence he came.

“Tch.” Before Yan could even process what just happened, Rain was already back at her side, his arm wrapping around her waist so naturally it was as if it’d always belonged there. “He got away, but I’ll get that shitty baldy next time, and that stupid Eyebrows too.” Turning his attention to her once more, Yan felt his emotions swell as love and affection threatened to overwhelm him where he stood, but he reined himself in while promising to unleash it all again later, a promise she intended to hold him to. “No one bullies my wife and gets away with it, not for long.” Flashing his charming smile which made her weak in legs once again, he added, “But first, let’s put an end to this battle, shall we?”

Put an end to the battle, as if it were just that easy. A part of Yan wanted to scoff and check if he had his head on right, but there was something about his relaxed confidence and dependable demeanour that made her trust him completely. “Okay,” she said, before switching to Sending. “And then you and I will find a nice, quiet room to make up for lost time.”

“Gladly,” came the reply, the Sending accompanied by a burst of lust so intoxicating Yan almost ripped his pants off then and there. “But first...” The last was said out loud as he turned his attentions skyward, and before she knew it, Yan was soaring through the air and landing softly on the Central balcony. “This is Legate Falling Rain,” he began, projecting his voice for all to hear, and by some miracle of Heaven, all fighting in the Bulwark came to a stop. “Offering an invitation to Bai Qi so that we might discuss terms of surrender.”

...Well, that took the wind out of Yan’s amorous sails, or at least it did for a bit, until Rain scrunched his face and added, “Err... terms of your surrender. Not mine. Ours? Just to be clear.”

In the ensuing silence, Yan was sure the entire Citadel could hear her giggling into his chest, and more than a few could see her shoulders shaking and figure it out as well, but she didn’t care one whit. Her sweet fool of a husband was finally back, dumb as always and stronger than ever, so if this wasn’t enough reason to be happy, then nothing else would ever suffice.

Well, maybe if she finally got her harem of handsome husbands, but that would have to wait...

Chapter Meme