Savage Divinity

Having reunited with her best friend, beloved sister, and rational, able-bodied husband, Mila should have been over the moon with delight and satisfaction, but the more she learned about the battle of the Central Citadel, the more she felt like she was fast falling behind along the Martial Path.

Hardly surprising considering her decision to pursue so many different goals, dreaming of one day becoming a peerless duellist, unrivalled tactician, and brilliant Divine Blacksmith. Mama always said that in order to reach the pinnacle of the Martial Path, one must treat it like a marathon rather than a sprint. There was no race to the top, for each and every individual must progress at their own pace, but having stood at the forefront of her peers for her entire life, Mila could not help but be displeased at having been overtaken from behind.

This wasn’t the first time either. For years, Rain’s Heaven-defying progress along the Martial Path had frustrated her to no end, but at least she could console herself with the fact that he was an outlier, a freak of nature blessed by the Mother Above with talent above and beyond what mortals could even dream of. Now however, every time Mila blinked it seemed like someone had surpassed her. First there was Li-Li’s condensation of Aura, then Yan’s mastery of her Blessing of Wind, and Mila had been genuinely happy for them both, but now things were getting out of hand. Her useless junior Martial Brother Fung was being lauded as some tormented genius, a man talented in the ways of war who abhorred all the death and suffering. Not exactly the most flattering image, but Mila heard how Fung had matched Mitsue Hideo in single combat not through sheer strength of arm, but through overwhelming finesse and devilish cunning. To hear Yan tell it, Fung knew he was no match for the traitor in direct conflict, so he used feints and skilled maneuvers to lure Hideo into leaving openings to be exploited. It was clear Fung had come up with these ‘soft’ methods to use against Mila, and she was all but certain she had no way to counter him, not if done correctly.

Then there was Yan, whose modest retelling of her own contributions paled in comparison to the grand tales being shared all throughout the Citadel, ones which painted her as the second coming of the Sanguine Tempest. Were it not for the Runic Cannons, Yan’s capacity for massed slaughter would only be rivalled by her grandfather himself, personally killing untold hundreds of Defiled and Chosen with her devastating windstorms while commanding ten-thousand troops to hold the most contested choke-point in the Bulwark. A far more worthy successor to Mama’s achievements than Mila herself, and it shamed her to admit her seething jealousy for her beloved sister-wife.

There were other youths whose accomplishments were worthy of praise, like the tales of Tam Taewoong’s endless stamina as he fought day and night without rest, or Shuai Jiao’s Disciple Yong-Jin whose contributions were too many to name, and of course Rain’s own staggering achievements which were almost too fanciful to believe, all of which left Mila in a dour mood. Not to mention how the Enemy talents were proving themselves to be no less of a threat, first with Gen, then Hideo, and now the Confessor’s Disciple Yuanyin, leaving Mila feeling as if she’d been long since left behind in the wake of her betters.

The grim ambience of the Central Citadel wasn’t helping either, hardly the mood one expected after snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, but at least she understood the logic behind the general dissatisfaction of the common soldier. Here sat the greatest army the Empire had ever gathered, one comprised of Warriors from North, South, and Central all coming together as one to defend their homes and drive the Enemy back from their borders, but at the end of the day, the vast majority of them proved superfluous in the face of Rain’s Runic Cannons. Martial Warriors were by and large a haughty bunch, and even the lowliest of them took pride in their strength and abilities, so to be outdone by bronze tubes and iron spheres was more than a little disheartening. Given the effectiveness of crossbows, catapults, and now cannons, it brought into question the validity of the Martial Dao, for what reason was there to pursue this long and arduous Path if one could simply take up a Runic Cannon and be many times more effective?

A silly thing to quibble over when life and death were on the line, but Mila could not help but sympathize with those Warriors who were likely wondering if their chosen profession might soon be made redundant. The Martial Path was one of struggle and conflict, so how was one supposed to progress without encountering personal adversity? What was the point of pursuing strength if a lifetime of effort was unable to match up to the ingenuity of man?

That being said, rationally, she knew there was something wrong with this mindset as cannons were simply a more effective version of a bow, and not without flaw. For one, they were heavy as sin and unwieldy to boot, requiring a significant amount of Chi to fire and a muscular frame to withstand the recoil. According to the Tyrant, the average Martial Warrior might manage a dozen shots before draining themselves dry, while older, more experienced ones could manage two to three times as many. Not too few, yet not too many either, and anyone would find it difficult to carry that many cannonballs while Cloud-Stepping into position for a proper shot. There were other concerns, such as overheating the bronze barrels and damaging the Runic Inscriptions, or firing before the ammunition was properly seated and causing a blow-back that could injure the user, but compared to the time required to learn how to fire a proper longbow, the amount of training to use a Runic Cannon was almost negligible.

Given how Rain was the one who came up with the idea in the first place, Mila should rightly be celebrating her husband’s achievements and giving thanks to the Heavens above, for now they had a new and powerful weapon to wield against the Defiled. Try as she might however, she was unable to shake this bitter malaise and take pride in the Imperial victory for reasons already stated and many more she could not put word to. The outer provinces had paid a steep price for victory here in the Central Citadel, one paid in both coin and blood, and Mila was not alone in wondering if the next butcher’s bill might bankrupt them of both.

Even the animals were affected by the sombre mood, all huddled up in a corner of their borrowed courtyard and unwilling to come out and play. Try as she might, Mila could not entice the rabbits to hop about or the bears to amble and chortle in glee, while the wildcats and laughing birds remained perched out of reach in trees and on rooftops. Not without reason, for Mila’s beloved idiot had returned with yet another trio of pets, one of which was the massive tiger Rakshasa who terrified everyone to no end. Rain even had the gall to state that he had no intention of keeping these animals for his own, claiming he would happily bid them all a fond farewell if the Abbot ever saw fit to bring them away. Hmph. Only a fool would take him at his word, especially after seeing him interact with the formidable and adorable Spiritual Beasts, though in his defence, they were a fascinating bunch to be sure.

Kukku was a known quantity, a silly silkie chicken with a quirky, cowardly personality and a darling, dumb expression, but the oversized rooster was currently Concealed somewhere in the courtyard, though where, Mila could not say. Next, there was the tiger himself, the source of the other animals’ discontent, sprawled out in the grass with a slack, sorrowful expression as he lay his head atop his massive paws and mournfully stared at the manor gates as if he could see past them. Then again, it was possible he could, provided he had mastered some form of Scrying to aid him on the hunt, though from what Mila could gather, the tiger would not be hunting anything or anyone any time soon. A ferocious, man-eating beast, Rakshasa’s favoured meal was a freshly killed Defiled, though he was not above eating dead carrion so long as it was convenient. Alas, unfortunately for him, the Divine Turtle Pong Pong had chosen him as his mount, and though the powerful turtle was nowhere to be seen, Mila assumed he was Concealed somewhere in Rakshasa’s fur given the tiger’s pitifully subdued demeanour. Despite knowing of his murderous nature, Mila pitied the poor, conquered beast, a beautiful and majestic creature of orange, black, and white, one larger than even the biggest of warhorses and twice as fast to boot. Even laying prone as it was, the enormous tiger was a vision of grace and power, an unmistakable apex predator in the prime of health. Unlike the wildcats, whose large paws and broad heads often seemed too large for their lanky bodies, Rakshasa was a perfectly proportioned feline beast, his sleek, muscular frame clearly visible beneath his short but thick striped fur, which sweet Ping Ping did so love to rub her face in, much to the tiger’s distress.

Last but not least was Mila’s favourite addition to the menagerie, a portly, roly-poly panda by the name of Tai Shan. Seated in the centre of the courtyard, the black and white bandit beast reclined in the shadow of a tree while feasting on a stack of tasty bamboo. Stripping the bark away with delicate care to expose the soft pulp underneath, the panda clutched his bamboo stalk and chewed away with obvious delight while taking in the surroundings. There was something hypnotic about the way the bear ate, his eyes darting about in cheery curiosity as he calmly and methodically ate, his chubby cheeks perpetually in motion while working his way through his sizable meal. Every now and then, he broke off a section with his teeth and dropped it for Guai-Guai to eat, causing Mila’s heart to surge with glee every time she saw it. Unlike his much larger cousin, Guai-Guai was wholly terrified of Rakshasa and not even his love of Ping Ping could overcome his fear, so the chubby red panda sought solace in Tai Shan’s company instead, sitting pressed up against the panda’s leg with a similar, adorable posture. Every now and then, Ping Ping ambled over to try and entice Guai-Guai to play, but Rakshasa’s mere presence was enough to terrify Guai Guai to no end, and poor Ping Ping always returned to the tiger’s side alone and unaccompanied.

If Lin-Lin, Li-Li, or even Yan were here, they would undoubtedly come up with some way to lift the mood in the courtyard, doling out treats and toys aplenty to entice the animals to play, but everything Mila tried fell flat or made things so much worse. Forcibly bringing a rabbit over to Rakshasa almost ended in tragedy when the tiger mistook her actions for delivering a snack, and throwing Baloo across the courtyard resulted in a similar fiasco. The tiger’s appetite was a match for fat Mafu’s, a ravenous, gluttonous beast whose hunger could not be sated, not even after devouring the entire barrel of dried fish Rain left for his breakfast. Something would have to be done to tame the murderous creature, but Mila was at a loss on where to begin.

Unfortunately, there was little else for Mila to do here in the Central Citadel. Her retinue had long since settled into their temporary lodgings, with the quins bedded down for a long rest after five strenuous days of exacting travel. Mama was busy in meetings with Rain, Luo-Luo, and the other high-ranking officials of the Empire, while Papa was firing up a borrowed forge to craft whatever the people might need. Yan, Lin-Lin, and Li-Li were all resting after their ordeals, leaving only Mila to watch the house in their absence. Since the courtyard atmosphere was not conducive to Martial Training, she could either sit in silence and wallow in her misery or work towards a solution to Rakshasa’s intimidating presence, so Mila set to work on promoting harmony with Rain’s menagerie.

Which in the end amounted to her watching the tiger closely while petting his soft, silken fur in an effort to get him to relax his vigil, but after hours of quiet whispers, tender stroking, and muted attempts to entice him to play, Rakshasa had yet to lower his guard in her presence. “Listen you stupid, overgrown striped cat,” she said, keeping her tone as light and cheery as could be, “Stop looking at the rabbits like they’re your next meal, or I’ll turn you into a bedroom rug and use the rest to forge Li-Li a new sabre.”

Grumbling in response to her threat, the tiger huffed and turned his head away without allowing her out of his sight. Guarded and insecure, that was Rakshasa in a nutshell, a powerful beast who treated everything and everyone like a possible meal or threat. Unlike the wildcats, tigers were solitary creatures, and Rakshasa more solitary than most, as one of the monks let slip to Lin-Lin that the former Wisdom responsible for raising him had gone out of his way to capture a tiger cub and bring him away to the Arid Wastes. An unsocialized, murderous, man-eating carnivore is what this was, and Rain wanted to turn him into a half-tonne lap-cat.

“I see you two are getting along swimmingly.” As if summoned by the mere thought of him, Rain appeared in the courtyard without having used the gates, a habit Mila had yet to grow accustomed to. “Poor Rakky. It’s okay. I won’t let mean Mila bully you too too much. Your bones would make a terrible sabre anyways, too heavy and unwieldy for Li-Li.”

Despite his kind words and sweet tone, Rain refrained from petting the tiger, or even looking at the beast directly. In fact, Mila’s beloved seemed to make an effort not to even glance at the tiger at all, presenting the beast with his side while he spoke which, oddly enough, seemed to reassure Rakshasa that he meant no harm. That being said, Mila had no more eyes for the beast, not while her beloved husband was devouring her with his sensual gaze, his hunger melting away her petulant pique even before his Aura of love and amusement washed over her like a warm, intimate embrace. The next thing she knew, she was wrapped up in his arms and lifted off her feet, laughing uncontrollably as he twirled her about in the air, so effortlessly she imagined this was how Lin-Lin felt all the time. Culminating their hug with a flourish, he hefted her into a princess carry with only a minor grunt of exertion, a far cry from his strained efforts to carry her earlier on in their relationship. “You shouldn’t be so forceful with Rakky,” her idiot beloved said, his mind still fixated on the stupid cat as he sat down with her cradled in his lap instead of bringing her away to somewhere private and secluded where they could make up for lost time. “He’s a shy one, he is, cold and temperamental on the outside, but a big old softie once he warms up to you.”

Uttering a soft grunt of disinterest, Mila stomped down the flames of passion even as she took in her beloved husband’s scent, so fresh and clean unlike the ashy, oily air of the smoke-covered Citadel. How he managed to remain untouched by the thick clouds of acrid smoke was a mystery indeed, but Mila cared not for the facts as she basked in his warm and comforting embrace, one which seemed to lift the cloak of gloom fastened firmly about her shoulders. Rain’s mere presence alone was enough to bring cheer back to the dreary courtyard, his pets hopping, flapping, and ambling over to greet him in a lively and excited fashion. Poor Rakky tensed up in the company of so many strangers, but Rain deposited a pouch full of fish in front of the tiger’s nose, and the beast accepted the offering with only minimal grumbling as he ate without getting up and ignored the bunnies too stupid to know not to sniff at his meal. Oh this majestic hunter would soon be ruined by Rain’s over-indulgence, but seeing how Mila herself was intoxicated by his captivating gaze, she could hardly blame the poor beast for succumbing to her husband’s undeniable charms.

Running a hand through her hair and down her freckled cheek, Rain closed his eyes and touched his nose to hers with obvious restraint. Mila would love nothing more than to do away with all inhibitions, but not here in the courtyard where the guards were watching and any fool could Scry upon them with ease, and especially not while all the animals were clambering about. These furry little devils simply had no sense of propriety or personal space, with Banjo jostling with Aurie over who could press their face closest to Rain’s and Mila’s both, interrupting what should have been an intimate and erotically charged moment with their goofy antics. Breaking away from her husband’s attentions to give the pets a kiss, she rubbed Banjo’s cheeks and used his big head to fend off Rain’s amorous intentions. “Hmph,” she snorted, ignoring his widening grin as he took in her feigned scowl with an Aura of aggressive adoration, the same feeling Mila got when seeing something so cute she wanted to hug it until it popped. “You think it’s so easy to win my forgiveness? You’ve still much to answer for, leaving me to worry and fret while you were sick and comatose.”

“And I promise to spend a lifetime making up for my failings, beloved wife of mine.”

Silver-tongued devil. His sweet words were accompanied by an Aura of genuine misery however, and she regretted ever bringing the matter up. Leaning for a quick kiss, she broke it off before too long and forced out a scowl to ask, “What are you doing back here anyways? Don’t you have a war effort to lead? Do try and earn your keep as Legate of the outer provinces instead of foisting all your responsibilities over to poor Luo-Luo.”

“I would love to,” he replied, chuckling at her stubborn, steadfast refusal to melt in his arms and loving her all the more for it. “But I’m afraid I’m not qualified for the job. In fact, I went ahead and made Luo-Luo my official Secretary of Office, authorizing her to speak with my voice as Legate. Cut out the middleman as it were, freeing me up to come have lunch with my feisty and ferocious wife.” A surge of envy welled up inside Mila’s chest, angry she couldn’t help him like Luo-Luo or even Yan could, making her little more than a burden to be safeguarded and protected. Even Luo-Luo had risked life and limb on the battlefield now, while Mila’s contributions to the war effort were laughably light.

The talented and domineering Sumila of the People, a supposed rising dragon of her generation relegated to the role of trophy wife, one which paled in comparison to his second wife and concubine both. How pathetic.

Gently lifting her chin so she could look him in the eyes, Rain’s outpouring of love and support set Mila’s eyes to tearing with joy. “Now, now,” he admonished, shaking his head in mock reproach. “Don’t be jealous. Also, self-deprecation is my field of expertise, and I’ll thank you not to encroach upon my territory.”

Unable to stop the smile from spreading across her face, Mila pinched his cheeks and pulled him close for another quick kiss. Anything more and she might not be able to resist any longer, but resist she would have to considering her crafted restraints were still back home in the Northern Citadel. How long until they could return there? Mother in Heaven, it could be weeks, if not months before he was free enough to leave, what with the Central Citadel’s current state of disarray. Not for the first time, she envied Yan for her lack of hardships in her love life with their husband, their greatest impediment being a need to lay down a dry sheet before joining as man and wife. In contrast, Mila needed specialized steel strong enough to withstand her involuntary convulsions, lest she accidentally snap her husband’s spine whilst lost in the throes of passion...

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, but her words came out as barely more than a heated gasp. It’d been so long since she felt his loving caress, but now was not the time to indulge in her lust. “Avoiding your responsibilities just to share a meal with me? Now if you make a grand mess of things, I expect I’ll be blamed for the downfall of the outer provinces, an Empire-destroying beauty who will go down in history as the temptress who brought their hero low.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing.” Stealing another kiss while her guard was down, Rain uttered a small sigh of self-restraint before coming to his feet, still carrying her in his arms and only stumbling a little beneath her weight. It was then she noticed his bandages, covering wounds which he had yet to Heal for reasons still unclear even to himself. Something about a refined physique and increased effort, but Lin-Lin’s cursory explanation left much to be desired. “The outer provinces are in safe hands,” he said, ignoring her silent demand for answers, “So why don’t we sit down together and you can tell me all your grievances which I have to answer for while we eat?”

Lunch was a simple meal of noodles and dried jerky, soaked and softened just long enough to almost be palatable, alongside a dish of steamed vegetables. Nothing fancy, not for the Legate of the outer provinces, and that was one of the many reasons Mila loved him so, so arrogant at times, yet still humble when it counted. While they ate, he asked her about her experiences while he was comatose, and she answered as best she could, given how little of note actually took place. A few clashes in the open fields followed by long days in the forge and long nights of Martial training, a mundane and monotonous existence which few cared to interrupt. Despite her lofty public status as the Legate’s ‘first’ wife, the political factions of the Empire had long since learned to steer clear of Mila, given her tendency to threaten and castigate anyone who dared to bother her. Those seeking to make political connections went to Luo-Luo for the best results, while others hoping to toady up and gain Rain’s favour sought out Yan to flatter and cajole, who by and large did a fine job of toeing the line and making sure never to commit to any promises or take on any obligations.

In contrast, Mila’s actions might have made Rain even more enemies than he already had, but he merely laughed and waved her concerns aside stating, “Happy wife, happy existence. If they upset you, then they are no friends of mine.”

Their conversation soon turned to their most shared topic of discussion, that of the Martial Path, and though Mila noted he was avoiding any and all talk of his own personal experiences whilst comatose, she knew he was merely working up the courage to do so. As such, she vented her frustrations regarding her lack of significant progress while Rain pursed his lips and tried not to laugh. Caught out by her glare, he soon explained, “Until recently, you were the most formidable duellist under twenty-five, and now you are firmly ensconced at number two. Your husband might have finally surpassed you, but I would hardly call your talents lacking, beloved.” Knowing she wanted more than his consolation, he fed the bears and wildcats a few table-scraps before addressing the issue at hand. “You know I would love nothing more than to help you beloved, but not only am I unsure how much I can share without affecting your Path, the truth of the matter is, I don’t even understand a quarter of what I can do, and I’ve no idea how the rest of it is done. Take Cloud-Stepping for example. All I do is think about going over there, and I move my feet and it happens. If I ever stop and think about how I’m Cloud-Stepping, then the whole thing just falls apart, which goes to show just how lacking my comprehension really is.” Sighing as he leaned in for comforting support, he added, “It’s Guiding all over again. I’m just accidentally failing my way towards success.”

“Well maybe you should stop sneaking away to have your idle wife, and put that time to better use sparring and training instead.” Contrary to what she was saying, Mila snuggled in close to rest her head on his shoulder, wishing he could spend all his time with her instead. They’d been married for over a year now, but it felt like they’d only spent a handful of weeks together, though that was hardly true. Still, he had an obligation to the Empire and it would be an affront against the Mother above to let his Heaven-blessed talents go to waste, so Mila had a responsibility to ensure he progressed as far along his Path as he could. “Go find an idle Peak Expert you trust and exchange a few hundred moves, then do it again until you drop. Practice long enough and the mysteries will reveal themselves eventually, so quit lazing about and go lose some weight. Maybe try sparring with Gerel to start, as you should be most familiar with his style.”

“I have put on a few kilograms, haven’t I?” Beaming proudly as he pinched his non-existent belly fat, Rain’s beautiful eyes brightened with a mischievous glint as an idea came to him in the moment. “My head still hurts something fierce from using too much Chi, but I can spar without using any, I suppose. Alright, let’s go find Marshal Yuzhen and ask if we can borrow her boy-toy for a bit. It’ll be nice to see how I measure up against the Demon Reaper, and maybe I can settle some long-standing accounts while we’re at it.”

Shaking her head in quiet disapproval at his competitive nature and worried she might have baited him into pushing himself too hard, Mila followed her husband out of the manor with a trail of pets and Death Corps Guards behind them, the bears, wildcats, rabbits, and laughing birds all happy to come along for the jaunt. The Abbot’s trio of pets remained behind, as did Ping Ping and Guai Guai, while Princess, Blackjack, Noodle, and Mama Bun who were off with Li-Li, Lin-Lin, and Luo-Luo respectively. Finding Yuzhen was easy enough, even though Rain never once stopped to ask anyone where she was, and it wasn’t until they found the silver-haired half-fox waiting to greet them outside her own borrowed manor that Mila realized Rain had contacted Yuzhen through Sending. Being the block-headed fool that he was, he didn’t realize a personal visit from the Legate would obligate Yuzhen to drop everything to accommodate him, and he even tried to send her off so he wouldn’t interfere with her duties, but if she were to leave him alone in her own manor, it would be seen as a grievous loss of face for one or both of them. It would either be seen as Rain banishing Yuzhen from her own manor or Yuzhen not giving Rain face by leaving during a personal visit, a subtlety which was lost on Mila’s talented but idiotic husband.

Thankfully, Yuzhen was well-versed in handling such idiots in a diplomatic manner and confessed to a burning desire to see how Rain fared against her husband Gerel, while outright stating she would keep anything she witnessed to herself. Not that Rain even thought about concealing his abilities from anyone who cared to watch, though from the relaxed manner in which he approached this spar, Mila feared he wasn’t taking it as seriously as he should. While he somehow managed to defeat the Bloody Confessor and escape death at Bai Qi’s hands, battles between Peak Experts were always a dangerous prospect and overconfidence would be his undoing.

There was no point in telling Rain however, as knowing him, Mila’s warning would go in one ear and out the other. Talented though he might be, there were times when she found his stubborn attitude and atypical pride frustrating to no end, unable to learn a simple lesson unless accompanied by unnecessary pain and suffering.

Shirtless beneath the afternoon sun, Gerel made for a formidable sight as he stood in the centre of their empty courtyard turned sparring ground, and Mila struggled to not swallow and lick her lips in imitation of Yuzhen beside her. That would be unbecoming of the Legate’s wife, no matter how fetching Gerel might be, with his long, luscious locks, fine, chiselled features, and full, muscular frame. Mila would never admit it out loud, but Rain and Gerel shared many similarities beyond their matching eye colour, especially now that her husband’s gaunt frame and hollowed cheeks had finally filled out.

There also had other similar features, with an identical slant to their eyes and angle of nose, as well as a matching jawline and general physique, both broad of shoulder and slim of waist. The two could be cousins, or perhaps even brothers, though Mila still found Rain more handsome and appealing. It was mostly due to the softness of his eyes combined with his gentle, delicate temperament and wider ears that made him that much more affable, whereas Gerel’s coarser, narrower features lent a sharp, foreboding air to his cold and joyless expressions. It wasn’t her place to criticize, but she had no idea what Yuzhen saw in Gerel aside from his good looks, for he was a glacial and joyless man, with a head only for duty and bloodshed. Rain had all of that and more, a warm and affectionate man who went to great lengths to ensure Mila, Yan, and Lin-Lin knew they were loved.

...Then again, much like Gerel, Rain could also be cold and unyielding to outsiders when he chose to, as evidenced by his stubborn unwillingness to accept Luo-Luo into his life. All the more fool him, but he would succumb eventually, even if Mila had to personally drag them both into the marital bed herself.

...

But not for a few months yet... maybe a year even. With only two wives, Mila was already feeling starved for affection, and Lin-Lin would be joining them soon enough, so Luo-Luo would just have to wait a little longer until Mila had her fair share of Rain’s attention.

While she was busy justifying her plans to monopolize her husband for as long as possible, Rain was limbering up for his sparring match against Gerel and doing a fine job of antagonizing the man. “I remember watching you spar with Dad at the end of every winter,” he said, stretching his arms overhead with a series of audible cracks. “Always good fun after a boring season cooped up indoors. Honestly surprised you kept challenging him year after year, but I admired your perseverance.” With an insolent grin, Rain added, “Please give some face and don’t beat me as badly as Dad beat you. I’ve run into a few issues with Healing that I have yet to resolve, so I’d really rather not have to mend any broken bones.”

“No broken bones. Understood.” Holding his longsword in a fencer’s stance, Gerel’s lips twitched in the ghost of a smile, gone so quickly it might as well have been imagined. “Ready?”

Still swinging his arms and yet to take a stance, Rain nodded and responded, “Rea – ”

The flat of Gerel’s blade smacked home against Rain’s cheek, leaving a red welt that would soon turn into a bruise. “In a battle between Peak Experts,” Gerel began, retrieving his sword beneath Rain’s venomous gaze, “The first to react is typically first to lose. We move at such speeds that you cannot take time to think. You must have your moves planned out beforehand, or you will find yourself on the back-foot and firmly disadvantaged. You’ve done well killing foes with the element of surprise, but you have yet to familiarize yourself with your strength and speed, which means you are easy pickings without Concealment.” Drawing back to his starting position, he took up the same stance and asked, “Ready?”

This time, Rain was not so cavalier in answering, a lesson he had learned before and would undoubtedly learn again in the future. There was a marked difference between Rain’s skills in a spar and his skills during a life and death match, the latter being far, far more impressive than the former. It was a matter of tension and focus, or rather a lack thereof during sparring, and nothing Mila, Yan, Zian, or countless others tried could make Rain take their sparring sessions seriously. Now, Gerel had apparently done the impossible as Mila’s goofy and beloved husband faded away to reveal the deadly Warrior hiding underneath. In retrospect, it was a miracle no one ever noticed his split personalities, for the change was truly startling to behold, but much as he liked to believe these troubles were far behind him, Mila could tell he had yet to wholly resolve his internal struggle. Part of him wanted to be Falling Rain, benevolent philanthropist and playboy slacker, but another darker part of him wanted to be Falling Rain, hero and Warrior, an ambition he to this day continued to wholeheartedly deny. To hear him tell it, he’d been forced onto the Martial Path solely to survive, despite having so many other Paths left available to him, not to mention multiple people telling him he had no need to pursue strength unless he truly desired it.

A fool is what he was, but he was Mila’s beloved fool, so she would do everything she could to support him in his foolish endeavours, and ensure he would make it out alive to live a long and happy life at her side.

It was clear bringing him to Gerel was the right move, as Rain launched his attack the moment he acknowledged he was ready. The following exchange was so fast Mila could barely keep track of their movements, an accomplishment made all the more impressive by the fact that neither man was using Chi. Unpleasant as it was to be left so far behind on the Martial Path, she swelled with pride at seeing her beloved husband exert his skills to full effect, able to trade blows with a veritable genius of a generation more than fifteen years his senior. It was uncanny how evenly matched the two of them were, with Rain using his two weapons to make up for his shorter reach while giving as good as he got, or so Mila believed until Gerel’s smile broke through his frosty exterior and he kicked it up another notch. The lightning fast exchange ended in a flash as Rain found Gerel’s sword at his throat, but after a moment to contemplate what just took place, he nodded and begrudgingly stepped away. “Again,” he said, sounding only mildly petulant instead of utterly incensed, as he undoubtedly was, likely believing he should have seen through Gerel’s movements and responded in a more appropriate manner to defeat his obviously superior foe.

“In a moment,” Gerel replied, lowering his sword to catch his breath. “Tell me about your battle against Goujian. How did you defeat him?”

Though pink with exertion, Rain’s cheeks turned absolutely scarlet as he shrank back and muttered, “Well... Um... I cheated.”

“...I see.” Eyes sparkling with unvoiced laughter, Gerel Sent something to Rain which resulted in a general Aura of embarrassment emanating from Mila’s husband, but he nodded and sighed before Sending something back in rejoinder. After a brief but silent conversation, they resumed their spar, and for the next two hours, they fought in stoic silence until Rain’s silk shirt was drenched in sweat and he was forced to discard it.

So entranced by the sight, Mila didn’t even begrudge Yuzhen for her murmur of appreciation, but Gerel caught it and was visibly displeased, much to his wife’s obvious delight. An odd pair, the two of them, but they made it work, and Mila graciously pretended not to notice their heated expressions as they rushed Rain and her out the door. Not for the first time today, she lamented her inability to control her strength and wished there was something that could be done about it, but then Rain saw fit to add oil to the near-unquenchable flames. Fanning his borrowed robes which were far too loose for his slender frame, he leaned in close to Mila and Sent, “You know, I could really go for a nice, hot relaxing bath right about now, something to wash away all the sweat and grime.” Flashing his oh so charming grin, he Sent, “Care to join me?”

Just as she was struggling to find the will to reject his invitation on account of his complications with Healing, Rain wagged his eyebrows and spoke out loud. “You know, this is neither here nor there, but I have yet to test out my newfangled refined physique. I wonder how tough and resilient I’ve become now that I have a Spiritual He –”

The last of his sentence turned into a yelp as Mila yanked him along behind her, walking as quickly as she could without running in a desperate bid to get him home and into a bath before she bashed him over the head and took him in public out of pure, unmitigated frustration.

In retrospect, perhaps being left behind on the Martial Path wasn’t so bad after all...

Chapter Meme 1

Chapter Meme 2