Chapter 610
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Chapter 610
When it comes to big ticket fights, Ive seen some real shit.
I had front row seats to Akanais duel against the Demon Vivek Daatei. When Bastard Lius sword erupted from Yo Lings belly, I was dangling in the splash zone. In Sinuji, Nian Zu unleashed the Shooting Star on Zhu Changzui, and I was almost knocked off my feet by the resulting aftershocks. It was all incredibly impressive, but then, in that same battle, I witnessed the Ancestral Mole-Lady raise a towering wave of earth and Guan Suo disperse it with a much smaller cloud of ash, and I thought, Wow. Blessings are overpowered.
Those were the greatest hits I ever had the misfortune to experience first-hand, but aside from the sheer resilience of Big Poppa Piggy, none of the mundane Martial Warriors were particularly impressive. Now, to be fair, every single one of the previously listed combatants could kill me with ease, even when I was at the peak of my strength, but Id always believed there was a stark difference between Blessed Martial Warriors and their mundane counterparts. Despite Dads efforts to convince me otherwise, everything Id ever seen pointed to the same, undeniable fact, that focusing on a Blessing was much better than focusing on Forms, because the disparity in endgame power-levels is just too high. Its like fighters and wizards in video games; the fighter is strong early and falls off late, while the wizard is the reverse, and well... late game is all that matters, right? Plus, I thought itd be cool to shoot water bullets and conjure water shields, but when it comes right down to it, I always believed that at the highest levels of the Martial Path, an Elemental Blessing was an advantage mere physical strength could never overcome.
Turns out, Ive just never seen a Peak Expert really cut loose.
Nian Zus Shooting Star is impressive and all, but considering he was unable to beat Goujian in single combat, Ive been feeling mildly scornful of his physical prowess. However, the Legates moves put everything I know to shame, and I suspect he might actually be a half-step Divinity, a warrior stronger than Peak Experts but not quite ready to take on Ancestral Beasts. For a tenth of a second, he all but disappears from sight as I reach for Enlightenment, but where normally this would slow things down to a crawl, the Legates battle is reduced to mere flashes of gold and black. Its like watching a poorly made flip book, where scenes jump from one to the next with little to no transition as the golden-robed Legate blinks about the room with multiple obsidian blurs hot on his heels. Im still able to parse together the battles progression thanks to context clues and such, but my mind is barely able to keep up, much less wrap itself around the seemingly impossible feats taking place. Gravity seems like an afterthought as the Legate puts his feet wherever he pleases, jumping from bed to windowsill before running up the walls and onto the roof, whereupon he leaps over his foes and trades blows mid-air in an awe-inspiring effort to keep them off his back. Never before have I seen anyone move with such speed, to the point where I cant even identify the type of sword he wields or where he drew it from as the metallic blur darts about his slender frame in a dazzling display of skill and finesse. Aside from the jet-black dagger jutting out of his chest, the Wraiths weapons are unable to penetrate the Legates steely defence, and the wound doesnt even seem to slow him down as he fights with the grace and elegance of a god given flesh.
And yet... the Wraiths still stand, even the one who was sent flying out of the room in their first exchange, clutching a single obsidian dagger while his other arm hangs loosely at his side. Not only are these cloaked assassins able to match the Legates speed and skill, their practised coordination seems to have him on the back foot. Its a combination of their billowy cloaks and confusing movements, flowing about the room in a ring of ebony death. Even their exposed skin is dark as night, covered in ash or ink to better hide in the shadows, and their smooth, gliding motions leave me unable to keep track of each individual Wraith. To my eyes, it almost seems like they melt into one another, crashing without impact like weightless shadows shifting about the room with impossible speed and grace.
All this takes place in the blink of an eye, with dozens of exchanges ringing out so consistently it could almost be mistaken for a single note. Then, before the daggers in my sleeves are even halfway out their sheathes, the Seneschal joins the fight, and I regret mouthing off to the old fart so many times before. Though the others are fast, the Seneschal is even faster as his dazzling sword bisects a Wraith with ease, and my eyes are unable to even follow his movements except in those brief moments when he slows down to pivot. If the Legate and Wraiths were a flip book, the Seneschal is more like a static comic, with panels poorly arranged to illustrate flow and seemingly pulling off impossible movements. One moment he stands at the Legates side with back turned to his enemies, and the next hes behind the Wraiths and facing his foes with weapon drawn, then back to the Legates side once more as the bodies hit the floor. Double-edged Jian humming whilst covered in the sickly-green blood of his enemies, the Solitary Sword stands ready to defend his liege, but there are no more foes to be found aside from the singular bisected form lying dead on my bedroom floor.
And just as quickly as all the chaos began, the battle comes to an uncertain end. Several seconds pass before I even realize its all over and my daggers are utterly useless, a period of time which seems longer than the battle itself. As the dust settles, I find my room in complete tatters, with the floor, walls, and furniture all carved to pieces and strewn all about, and a pool of greenish Ichor spilling out of the corpse and slowly spreading across the wooden floors. Sentinels and Death Corps silently appear in droves, their weapons at the ready yet seconds too late to defend their liege, who rattles off commands without a care for the weapon lodged in his sternum. There are five Peak Expert Wraiths on the loose. Lock down the Citadel and double the guards for all General Officers. Peak Experts are to gather together and travel in groups, and secure our hospitals, craftsmen, and other vital tradesmen to ensure they are not picked off.Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)
Theres more to the Legates orders, but my world goes silent and fuzzy as I notice a gaping absence in my awareness, one whose presence Id only just come to terms with. Shuffling in place, I turn around and try to orient myself in the ruins of my old room, but even after a full circle, I find myself unable to find my bearings. Theres something wrong, something off about my perception, and then it hits me like a hammer as I come face to face with a gaping hole in the wall where the Seneschals sword must have passed through. The wall once housed the shattered remnants of my Spiritual weapons, but no more. The tumultuous battle has rendered my fragile weapons to little more than fine, metallic sand, spilling off the shelves they were lovingly displayed upon. They were symbols of better times when I rode to battle with those weapons in hand, and of a hopeful future in which I would repair and reclaim them to use against the hated Enemy.
A past which exists only in memory, and a future I can hope for no more.
Faltering beneath the cumbersome weight of the truth, I stumble in place and fall to my knees. The shadows close in around me, smothering and suffocating me as I struggle for breath, and I do nothing but pray for a rude awakening from this nightmare or the warm welcome of death. Neither comes and I am left to face the cold, harsh reality, that my weapons are gone for good, never to be seen again. It was a slim chance Id ever bring them back, even if I somehow miraculously recovered, but the dream was what sustained me, and even that has been denied me. Ive seen this coming for months now, have known my weapons werent recovering the same way I was, but to see it realized hurts me in ways I wasnt prepared for. Moving without knowing, I reach into the growing pile of what was once Peace and run my fingers through the mixture of metal, dust, animal fur, and who knows what else, and confirm the connection is dead and gone.
Ive lost a part of myself today, as real as any limb or organ. Peace, Tranquility, and Unity were all named for things I hoped to have one day, ideals I yearned to bring to this turbulent world, but now it seems those dreams were for naught. Despite all my protests otherwise, I always believed I had a purpose in this world, had come here for a specific reason, not out of arrogance or self-importance, but because... I needed to believe it. How else could I explain my mere existence? Why else would I have been put through so much suffering? Its what drove me to endure all that harsh training and to push through all those horrific experiences, to continue onwards through all the grief and hardships, the trials and tribulations, because I believed it was all for a reason, to prepare me for what lay ahead, but thats all a lie, and I can live it no longer. Im no hero of fate or Chosen Son of the Mother. Im just a terrified man whos been thrown into circumstances beyond his comprehension, and this, more than anything, fills me with dread and terror.
Bony fingers clamp about my shoulder and wrench me to my feet, where I find myself face to face with the Seneschal. Solitary Sword Zhang Jun Bao, a contemporary of Grandpa Dus, but from the two... or maybe three attacks I saw him execute, it would appear the Seneschal has left his old rival far behind. The Legate too, as even in the state of Enlightenment, I couldnt wholly make out his movements, and Ive only seen flashy acrobatics like his when the members of the Iron Banner are messing around to determine their rankings. The Seneschals lips move, but my brain is unable to parse through his meaning, the sounds all distorted and nonsensical like muted, warbling trumpets covering speech. Frowning, the wrinkled Seneschal gives me a shake and repeats himself, causing something to snap into place as my brain kicks into gear once more. wrong with you? Were you injured?
No, I reply, my tone remarkably neutral considering the circumstances. Im fine. Glancing down at the rest of me, I double check to make sure, but the Wraiths didnt even look at me askew during the entire assassination attempt. Weird. My notes survived the chaos though, both the revised copies and the final product I dropped in favour of my daggers. Theyre a little crumpled now, but should still be legible, so thank the Heavens for small favours. Yep. All in one piece. Lost my Spiritual Weapons though. Dusted. Gone.
The last bit just slips out as I had no intention of saying anything, but the Seneschal simply ignores it and drags me over. So long as you are unharmed. Now, do whatever it is you do. Gesturing at the bisected Wraith, lying there with his head next to his ankles, the Seneschal takes my notes, pushes me towards the corpse, and steps back to watch, but I have no idea what he expects. Grimacing in exasperation, he explains, The Ichor, boy. Do whatever it is you do, and keep a clear mind. The young master will have questions for you, and he expects coherent answers.
Glancing at the Legate, I see him watching me with focused clarity from the ruined remains of my mattress. The bed frame was shattered beyond repair sometime during all the chaos, but the mattress was only cut up a bit and is still more or less in one piece, which is enough for the Legate to lie down on while an Imperial Healer in Liang Family robes tends to his wounds. Aside from a light sheen of sweat across his brow and single lock of hair fallen out of place, theres no sign of exertion in his aloof expression, nor any indication of pain. Not bad for a dude who just had a poisoned dagger lodged in his chest, but from the looks of his mostly clean robes, he was able to stop the bleeding almost instantaneously. The entire battle was over and done with in maybe two seconds, if that, yet I saw more than enough to know that the Legates Imperial Title of Shen ZhenWu is not undeserved.
Divine True Warrior is the exact translation, but True Divine Warrior would probably more accurately convey its meaning. A minor difference, but language shenanigans have gotten me into troubles before.
Urged on by the Seneschals impatient noises, I return to the task at hand, though my mind is still mourning the loss of my weapons. Seeing only Death Corps soldiers around, I figure theres no point hiding anything anymore and dip my fingers into the foul, yellow-green Ichor pooling about the Wraiths corpse, which I only now figured out meant that this is no Wraith, but a Demon in human form. I am, of course, immediately proven wrong as the viscous goop does absolutely nothing besides stink up the room and cling to my fingers. There is no tingle of Energy rushing into my body, no draining of whatever this foul liquid might be, and its all I can do to keep from flailing my hand about in a desperate attempt to free myself of its touch. Ew. Thats not Ichor. Wiping my hands on the dead Wraiths loose western robes, I tear free the garments to better wipe my hands, and uncover a haggard, torso underneath, his cracked skin lacking moisture yet hanging loosely from his frames. Though freshly slain, the Wraiths corpse looks like its been dead for some time and then partially mummified by someone who doesnt know what hes doing. Dark, unseeing orbs peer out from open eyes, eyes which are pitch black as far as I can see, and removing the veil reveals brittle, grey skin in the shade of an overcast sky. The darker colours leech away as the seconds tick by to reveal a pale, wan complexion underneath, and those darkened eyes begin to clear up and reveal hints of white around the edges. This leads me to believe this inky darkness routine is brought about by Chi, but then again, everything is technically an expression of Heavenly Energy, so what else is new? One thing is for certain though. This isnt a Demon. This is a man. A Defiled man, but human nonetheless.
I still cant make heads or tails of her relation to Lin-Lin, but Im pretty sure shes an Ancestral Beast. Whether shes Lin-Lin and Taduks Mother still has yet to be seen, but I know Ill feel better having a Divinity around. I mean, the Wraiths waited to strike until after the Enemy Divinity drew Chief Baldy away, which means theyll probably avoid my house too. That is, of course unless Guard Leader is not a Divinity and just a really strong, pushy half-beast, but either way, I wont complain if she wants to stick around.
Today threw my perception of power levels all out of whack, and Im not sure where anyone sits on the scales anymore. There was a time when Akanai was the end all, be all of strength, but now I dont even know if shes on the higher end of Peak Expert. Ive never seen her pressed in a fight except in that battle against Demon Vivek, but she was sorely hampered by her need to put up a mental barrier against his odd, dream attacks, and still easily beat him into the ground. She had trouble dealing the killing blow without taking injury herself, but she was also handicapped by the need to keep him away from the slumbering soldiers, so its hard to say if she could match the Legates strength. Never one to shy at asking questions, I bring it up after describing the Legates strength to the best of my abilities, but Akanai merely purses her lips and frowns. Impossible to say which of us is stronger without trading blows. Though uncertain, she gives me a reassuring smile and pats my head. But fear not, little Rain. Even if my strength is found lacking, there are still taller shoulders to hold up the Heavens. Your recovery is progressing faster than any of us expected, but even if you need another century, the People will ensure you have all the time you need.
Thats my family. Always here to look out for me, but never willing to tell me how. Its wonderful and frustrating all at the same time, but I wouldnt change a thing about them.
Despite the threat of Demon-Juiced assassins hanging over our heads, we still try to make the best of the situation and spend the evening in each others company, mostly sitting about the courtyard watching the twins and animals play. For once, I cant bring myself to enjoy their cutesy, floofy antics, not because my mind is stuck on the days events or my mysterious, unread notes, but because I cant get over the loss of my weapons. Its stupid and silly to be this distraught over a few broken pieces of metal, but they meant the world to me. Not just the strength they represented or the concepts they embodied, but also the memories which came with them.
I remember how thrilled I was upon receiving Peace, a princely gift I didnt even entirely understand at the time, and all the frustration which came after. My beloved wife wrapped the hilt, my gruff father found the needed materials, and they, along with Husolt helped me find my way along the Martial Path and bind the weapon for my use. I named it Peace, because I knew that the peace of the sword was the only peace I would ever know in this life. Might makes right, so without might, I would forever be waiting to be trod upon, just like I am right now. Make no mistake, despite my lofty titles and rising star, without the strength of the People behind me, I would be long dead and forgotten. Even then, should the costs of keeping me around ever begin to outweigh the benefits, Ive no doubt the Legate would be rid of me in a heartbeat. I could see it in his eyes today, the way he calmly and logically considered the pros and cons of having me murdered in cold blood, and Im still not sure hes made his final decision.
So without my sword, without strength, I will never know peace in this life, and forever remain but one step shy of disaster so long as I draw breath.
Next came Tranquility, a gift from Yan and Grandpa Du. Also crafted by Husolt, he poured his heart and soul into a unique shield suited for my fighting style. Despite all my fears and reservations, I fight close and dirty because thats how I prefer it, and Tranquility was perfect for my needs. It complemented my aggressive tendencies, yet also afforded me the luxury of fighting defensively if need be. I always thought it strange how I associated the shield with the more aggressive side of my personality, but Tranquility suited Baledagh perfectly by reinforcing his strengths and shoring up his weaknesses. With this shield in hand, I could go all out and still have something to rely on in case of disaster, and I cannot count the times the shield saved my life. Not just by blocking an attack or claiming a life, but by just being there, it afforded me options I might otherwise not have had.
I named it Tranquility because that was what it gave me, the ability to calmly take a step back and find a much-needed moment of serenity in the chaos of battle. With this weapon in hand, I knew I would be protected from the worst of my mistakes, but now, I live life on the razors edge, with no room to err in any direction I turn.
Last of all, was Unity. Unity of mind and unity of purpose, the transforming glaive-gun was the missing piece of the puzzle. Peace and Tranquility are good and fine, but Conflict and Turmoil are all but inevitable. I wanted to be myself and keep the Warrior separate, to protect myself from the horrors of war and stay true to my modern morals and beliefs, and while Mahakala showed me what I had done, it was Unity which showed me why my methods were flawed. Even a modern man must take up arms and kill when the situation demands it, for the right to freedom, liberty, life, and perhaps more, but we all like to pretend peace is the only way. Its not. Peace requires compromise, and even without the Defiled, there are just some people who are unable to compromise, which is when violence becomes a necessity. Fight the good fight and adapt to new circumstances when necessary, but do not lose yourself along the way, that is the lesson Unity taught me. I am the ruthless warrior, but I am also the silly animal enthusiast, and I can be both without having to sacrifice one or the other.
And now all my weapons are gone, and all I have left is dust and memories. Soon, even those will fade away, and then what?
As the night grows late, everyone heads off to sleep, though I hang back to make sure all the animals have a place for the night. Grandpa Du also lingers behind, scooping up sweet, snoring Kishi as if she were a tiny baby rather than the hundred kilo beast that she is. Coddling the spoiled quin, Grandpa Du gestures for me to walk beside him as he heads off to his room. When I was first crippled, he begins, sparking up a story out of nowhere, All the Healers, Herbalists, and Physicians I met with all recommended the same thing. Amputate the useless leg, because all it does is cause pain. I of course refused, because it was my leg. How could I bear to part with it? So instead, I treated the pain and clung to the hope of recovery, and where did that get me? Addicted to dream smoke and in constant pain for several decades is where. The Medical Saint could have restored my leg even if it wasnt there, so the only reason to keep the leg was pride and pride alone. Shaking his head with a sad smile, he fixes me with a knowing look. I understand why you held onto your Spiritual Weapons for as long as you did, but do not make the same mistake I did. Hope is both sweet nectar and deadly poison in one. The weapons are gone, you must accept this. When you recover, you will have new weapons forged, and it will be a day to celebrate, but do not cling to hope without cause. Do not let yourself be poisoned by hope.
Smiling in spite of myself, I hug Grandpa Du and ask, Is it that obvious?
Of course. Youve been sitting around all night instead of poring over your notes in search of answers. Ruffling my hair, which is still covered in product and less disgusting than I expected, Grandpa Du says, My advice, which you will likely ignore, is to get a good nights sleep so you will be bright-eyed and fresh-faced when you read your notes tomorrow. You are making great strides in your recovery, so there is no need to over-rush, and haste makes waste even in the best of circumstances. Puffing up with pride, he says, The others are too stuffed up to say this often, but you are a marvel, little Rain, and not because of your strength or brilliance. Even if you never recover and fall from grace, this old man is proud to have you as his grand-son in law, because you are a good man.
A good man, I repeat, wry and unimpressed. And look what thats got me.
A loving family, two affectionate wives, a devoted concubine, and a charming young wifey, by my count. Grinning as he shooes me away, Grandpa Du adds, Do not underestimate the value of love, little Rain. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all.
...Love makes heroes and monsters of us all. Once again, I repeat Grandpa Dus words to myself while shuffling back to my room. Ping Pings loving Aura is in full blast as she herds me towards bed with a bevy of squeaks, while the red panda glares at us from on high in the trees so he can finally be free to swing. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all. Picking up the pace, I burst into my room and do exactly as Grandpa Du expected, sitting down at my desk to flip through my notes in a frenzy. The information all but leaps off the page at me as I search for the relevant sections, the answer on the tip of my tongue but still yet to coalesce into a real thought. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all, I mumble over and over, more so I dont forget, until finally...
Holy Shit! Thats it!
Chapter Meme
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Chapter 610
When it comes to big ticket fights, Ive seen some real shit.
I had front row seats to Akanais duel against the Demon Vivek Daatei. When Bastard Lius sword erupted from Yo Lings belly, I was dangling in the splash zone. In Sinuji, Nian Zu unleashed the Shooting Star on Zhu Changzui, and I was almost knocked off my feet by the resulting aftershocks. It was all incredibly impressive, but then, in that same battle, I witnessed the Ancestral Mole-Lady raise a towering wave of earth and Guan Suo disperse it with a much smaller cloud of ash, and I thought, Wow. Blessings are overpowered.
Those were the greatest hits I ever had the misfortune to experience first-hand, but aside from the sheer resilience of Big Poppa Piggy, none of the mundane Martial Warriors were particularly impressive. Now, to be fair, every single one of the previously listed combatants could kill me with ease, even when I was at the peak of my strength, but Id always believed there was a stark difference between Blessed Martial Warriors and their mundane counterparts. Despite Dads efforts to convince me otherwise, everything Id ever seen pointed to the same, undeniable fact, that focusing on a Blessing was much better than focusing on Forms, because the disparity in endgame power-levels is just too high. Its like fighters and wizards in video games; the fighter is strong early and falls off late, while the wizard is the reverse, and well... late game is all that matters, right? Plus, I thought itd be cool to shoot water bullets and conjure water shields, but when it comes right down to it, I always believed that at the highest levels of the Martial Path, an Elemental Blessing was an advantage mere physical strength could never overcome.
Turns out, Ive just never seen a Peak Expert really cut loose.
Nian Zus Shooting Star is impressive and all, but considering he was unable to beat Goujian in single combat, Ive been feeling mildly scornful of his physical prowess. However, the Legates moves put everything I know to shame, and I suspect he might actually be a half-step Divinity, a warrior stronger than Peak Experts but not quite ready to take on Ancestral Beasts. For a tenth of a second, he all but disappears from sight as I reach for Enlightenment, but where normally this would slow things down to a crawl, the Legates battle is reduced to mere flashes of gold and black. Its like watching a poorly made flip book, where scenes jump from one to the next with little to no transition as the golden-robed Legate blinks about the room with multiple obsidian blurs hot on his heels. Im still able to parse together the battles progression thanks to context clues and such, but my mind is barely able to keep up, much less wrap itself around the seemingly impossible feats taking place. Gravity seems like an afterthought as the Legate puts his feet wherever he pleases, jumping from bed to windowsill before running up the walls and onto the roof, whereupon he leaps over his foes and trades blows mid-air in an awe-inspiring effort to keep them off his back. Never before have I seen anyone move with such speed, to the point where I cant even identify the type of sword he wields or where he drew it from as the metallic blur darts about his slender frame in a dazzling display of skill and finesse. Aside from the jet-black dagger jutting out of his chest, the Wraiths weapons are unable to penetrate the Legates steely defence, and the wound doesnt even seem to slow him down as he fights with the grace and elegance of a god given flesh.
And yet... the Wraiths still stand, even the one who was sent flying out of the room in their first exchange, clutching a single obsidian dagger while his other arm hangs loosely at his side. Not only are these cloaked assassins able to match the Legates speed and skill, their practised coordination seems to have him on the back foot. Its a combination of their billowy cloaks and confusing movements, flowing about the room in a ring of ebony death. Even their exposed skin is dark as night, covered in ash or ink to better hide in the shadows, and their smooth, gliding motions leave me unable to keep track of each individual Wraith. To my eyes, it almost seems like they melt into one another, crashing without impact like weightless shadows shifting about the room with impossible speed and grace.
All this takes place in the blink of an eye, with dozens of exchanges ringing out so consistently it could almost be mistaken for a single note. Then, before the daggers in my sleeves are even halfway out their sheathes, the Seneschal joins the fight, and I regret mouthing off to the old fart so many times before. Though the others are fast, the Seneschal is even faster as his dazzling sword bisects a Wraith with ease, and my eyes are unable to even follow his movements except in those brief moments when he slows down to pivot. If the Legate and Wraiths were a flip book, the Seneschal is more like a static comic, with panels poorly arranged to illustrate flow and seemingly pulling off impossible movements. One moment he stands at the Legates side with back turned to his enemies, and the next hes behind the Wraiths and facing his foes with weapon drawn, then back to the Legates side once more as the bodies hit the floor. Double-edged Jian humming whilst covered in the sickly-green blood of his enemies, the Solitary Sword stands ready to defend his liege, but there are no more foes to be found aside from the singular bisected form lying dead on my bedroom floor.
And just as quickly as all the chaos began, the battle comes to an uncertain end. Several seconds pass before I even realize its all over and my daggers are utterly useless, a period of time which seems longer than the battle itself. As the dust settles, I find my room in complete tatters, with the floor, walls, and furniture all carved to pieces and strewn all about, and a pool of greenish Ichor spilling out of the corpse and slowly spreading across the wooden floors. Sentinels and Death Corps silently appear in droves, their weapons at the ready yet seconds too late to defend their liege, who rattles off commands without a care for the weapon lodged in his sternum. There are five Peak Expert Wraiths on the loose. Lock down the Citadel and double the guards for all General Officers. Peak Experts are to gather together and travel in groups, and secure our hospitals, craftsmen, and other vital tradesmen to ensure they are not picked off.Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)
Theres more to the Legates orders, but my world goes silent and fuzzy as I notice a gaping absence in my awareness, one whose presence Id only just come to terms with. Shuffling in place, I turn around and try to orient myself in the ruins of my old room, but even after a full circle, I find myself unable to find my bearings. Theres something wrong, something off about my perception, and then it hits me like a hammer as I come face to face with a gaping hole in the wall where the Seneschals sword must have passed through. The wall once housed the shattered remnants of my Spiritual weapons, but no more. The tumultuous battle has rendered my fragile weapons to little more than fine, metallic sand, spilling off the shelves they were lovingly displayed upon. They were symbols of better times when I rode to battle with those weapons in hand, and of a hopeful future in which I would repair and reclaim them to use against the hated Enemy.
A past which exists only in memory, and a future I can hope for no more.
Faltering beneath the cumbersome weight of the truth, I stumble in place and fall to my knees. The shadows close in around me, smothering and suffocating me as I struggle for breath, and I do nothing but pray for a rude awakening from this nightmare or the warm welcome of death. Neither comes and I am left to face the cold, harsh reality, that my weapons are gone for good, never to be seen again. It was a slim chance Id ever bring them back, even if I somehow miraculously recovered, but the dream was what sustained me, and even that has been denied me. Ive seen this coming for months now, have known my weapons werent recovering the same way I was, but to see it realized hurts me in ways I wasnt prepared for. Moving without knowing, I reach into the growing pile of what was once Peace and run my fingers through the mixture of metal, dust, animal fur, and who knows what else, and confirm the connection is dead and gone.
Ive lost a part of myself today, as real as any limb or organ. Peace, Tranquility, and Unity were all named for things I hoped to have one day, ideals I yearned to bring to this turbulent world, but now it seems those dreams were for naught. Despite all my protests otherwise, I always believed I had a purpose in this world, had come here for a specific reason, not out of arrogance or self-importance, but because... I needed to believe it. How else could I explain my mere existence? Why else would I have been put through so much suffering? Its what drove me to endure all that harsh training and to push through all those horrific experiences, to continue onwards through all the grief and hardships, the trials and tribulations, because I believed it was all for a reason, to prepare me for what lay ahead, but thats all a lie, and I can live it no longer. Im no hero of fate or Chosen Son of the Mother. Im just a terrified man whos been thrown into circumstances beyond his comprehension, and this, more than anything, fills me with dread and terror.
Bony fingers clamp about my shoulder and wrench me to my feet, where I find myself face to face with the Seneschal. Solitary Sword Zhang Jun Bao, a contemporary of Grandpa Dus, but from the two... or maybe three attacks I saw him execute, it would appear the Seneschal has left his old rival far behind. The Legate too, as even in the state of Enlightenment, I couldnt wholly make out his movements, and Ive only seen flashy acrobatics like his when the members of the Iron Banner are messing around to determine their rankings. The Seneschals lips move, but my brain is unable to parse through his meaning, the sounds all distorted and nonsensical like muted, warbling trumpets covering speech. Frowning, the wrinkled Seneschal gives me a shake and repeats himself, causing something to snap into place as my brain kicks into gear once more. wrong with you? Were you injured?
No, I reply, my tone remarkably neutral considering the circumstances. Im fine. Glancing down at the rest of me, I double check to make sure, but the Wraiths didnt even look at me askew during the entire assassination attempt. Weird. My notes survived the chaos though, both the revised copies and the final product I dropped in favour of my daggers. Theyre a little crumpled now, but should still be legible, so thank the Heavens for small favours. Yep. All in one piece. Lost my Spiritual Weapons though. Dusted. Gone.
The last bit just slips out as I had no intention of saying anything, but the Seneschal simply ignores it and drags me over. So long as you are unharmed. Now, do whatever it is you do. Gesturing at the bisected Wraith, lying there with his head next to his ankles, the Seneschal takes my notes, pushes me towards the corpse, and steps back to watch, but I have no idea what he expects. Grimacing in exasperation, he explains, The Ichor, boy. Do whatever it is you do, and keep a clear mind. The young master will have questions for you, and he expects coherent answers.
Glancing at the Legate, I see him watching me with focused clarity from the ruined remains of my mattress. The bed frame was shattered beyond repair sometime during all the chaos, but the mattress was only cut up a bit and is still more or less in one piece, which is enough for the Legate to lie down on while an Imperial Healer in Liang Family robes tends to his wounds. Aside from a light sheen of sweat across his brow and single lock of hair fallen out of place, theres no sign of exertion in his aloof expression, nor any indication of pain. Not bad for a dude who just had a poisoned dagger lodged in his chest, but from the looks of his mostly clean robes, he was able to stop the bleeding almost instantaneously. The entire battle was over and done with in maybe two seconds, if that, yet I saw more than enough to know that the Legates Imperial Title of Shen ZhenWu is not undeserved.
Divine True Warrior is the exact translation, but True Divine Warrior would probably more accurately convey its meaning. A minor difference, but language shenanigans have gotten me into troubles before.
Urged on by the Seneschals impatient noises, I return to the task at hand, though my mind is still mourning the loss of my weapons. Seeing only Death Corps soldiers around, I figure theres no point hiding anything anymore and dip my fingers into the foul, yellow-green Ichor pooling about the Wraiths corpse, which I only now figured out meant that this is no Wraith, but a Demon in human form. I am, of course, immediately proven wrong as the viscous goop does absolutely nothing besides stink up the room and cling to my fingers. There is no tingle of Energy rushing into my body, no draining of whatever this foul liquid might be, and its all I can do to keep from flailing my hand about in a desperate attempt to free myself of its touch. Ew. Thats not Ichor. Wiping my hands on the dead Wraiths loose western robes, I tear free the garments to better wipe my hands, and uncover a haggard, torso underneath, his cracked skin lacking moisture yet hanging loosely from his frames. Though freshly slain, the Wraiths corpse looks like its been dead for some time and then partially mummified by someone who doesnt know what hes doing. Dark, unseeing orbs peer out from open eyes, eyes which are pitch black as far as I can see, and removing the veil reveals brittle, grey skin in the shade of an overcast sky. The darker colours leech away as the seconds tick by to reveal a pale, wan complexion underneath, and those darkened eyes begin to clear up and reveal hints of white around the edges. This leads me to believe this inky darkness routine is brought about by Chi, but then again, everything is technically an expression of Heavenly Energy, so what else is new? One thing is for certain though. This isnt a Demon. This is a man. A Defiled man, but human nonetheless.
I still cant make heads or tails of her relation to Lin-Lin, but Im pretty sure shes an Ancestral Beast. Whether shes Lin-Lin and Taduks Mother still has yet to be seen, but I know Ill feel better having a Divinity around. I mean, the Wraiths waited to strike until after the Enemy Divinity drew Chief Baldy away, which means theyll probably avoid my house too. That is, of course unless Guard Leader is not a Divinity and just a really strong, pushy half-beast, but either way, I wont complain if she wants to stick around.
Today threw my perception of power levels all out of whack, and Im not sure where anyone sits on the scales anymore. There was a time when Akanai was the end all, be all of strength, but now I dont even know if shes on the higher end of Peak Expert. Ive never seen her pressed in a fight except in that battle against Demon Vivek, but she was sorely hampered by her need to put up a mental barrier against his odd, dream attacks, and still easily beat him into the ground. She had trouble dealing the killing blow without taking injury herself, but she was also handicapped by the need to keep him away from the slumbering soldiers, so its hard to say if she could match the Legates strength. Never one to shy at asking questions, I bring it up after describing the Legates strength to the best of my abilities, but Akanai merely purses her lips and frowns. Impossible to say which of us is stronger without trading blows. Though uncertain, she gives me a reassuring smile and pats my head. But fear not, little Rain. Even if my strength is found lacking, there are still taller shoulders to hold up the Heavens. Your recovery is progressing faster than any of us expected, but even if you need another century, the People will ensure you have all the time you need.
Thats my family. Always here to look out for me, but never willing to tell me how. Its wonderful and frustrating all at the same time, but I wouldnt change a thing about them.
Despite the threat of Demon-Juiced assassins hanging over our heads, we still try to make the best of the situation and spend the evening in each others company, mostly sitting about the courtyard watching the twins and animals play. For once, I cant bring myself to enjoy their cutesy, floofy antics, not because my mind is stuck on the days events or my mysterious, unread notes, but because I cant get over the loss of my weapons. Its stupid and silly to be this distraught over a few broken pieces of metal, but they meant the world to me. Not just the strength they represented or the concepts they embodied, but also the memories which came with them.
I remember how thrilled I was upon receiving Peace, a princely gift I didnt even entirely understand at the time, and all the frustration which came after. My beloved wife wrapped the hilt, my gruff father found the needed materials, and they, along with Husolt helped me find my way along the Martial Path and bind the weapon for my use. I named it Peace, because I knew that the peace of the sword was the only peace I would ever know in this life. Might makes right, so without might, I would forever be waiting to be trod upon, just like I am right now. Make no mistake, despite my lofty titles and rising star, without the strength of the People behind me, I would be long dead and forgotten. Even then, should the costs of keeping me around ever begin to outweigh the benefits, Ive no doubt the Legate would be rid of me in a heartbeat. I could see it in his eyes today, the way he calmly and logically considered the pros and cons of having me murdered in cold blood, and Im still not sure hes made his final decision.
So without my sword, without strength, I will never know peace in this life, and forever remain but one step shy of disaster so long as I draw breath.
Next came Tranquility, a gift from Yan and Grandpa Du. Also crafted by Husolt, he poured his heart and soul into a unique shield suited for my fighting style. Despite all my fears and reservations, I fight close and dirty because thats how I prefer it, and Tranquility was perfect for my needs. It complemented my aggressive tendencies, yet also afforded me the luxury of fighting defensively if need be. I always thought it strange how I associated the shield with the more aggressive side of my personality, but Tranquility suited Baledagh perfectly by reinforcing his strengths and shoring up his weaknesses. With this shield in hand, I could go all out and still have something to rely on in case of disaster, and I cannot count the times the shield saved my life. Not just by blocking an attack or claiming a life, but by just being there, it afforded me options I might otherwise not have had.
I named it Tranquility because that was what it gave me, the ability to calmly take a step back and find a much-needed moment of serenity in the chaos of battle. With this weapon in hand, I knew I would be protected from the worst of my mistakes, but now, I live life on the razors edge, with no room to err in any direction I turn.
Last of all, was Unity. Unity of mind and unity of purpose, the transforming glaive-gun was the missing piece of the puzzle. Peace and Tranquility are good and fine, but Conflict and Turmoil are all but inevitable. I wanted to be myself and keep the Warrior separate, to protect myself from the horrors of war and stay true to my modern morals and beliefs, and while Mahakala showed me what I had done, it was Unity which showed me why my methods were flawed. Even a modern man must take up arms and kill when the situation demands it, for the right to freedom, liberty, life, and perhaps more, but we all like to pretend peace is the only way. Its not. Peace requires compromise, and even without the Defiled, there are just some people who are unable to compromise, which is when violence becomes a necessity. Fight the good fight and adapt to new circumstances when necessary, but do not lose yourself along the way, that is the lesson Unity taught me. I am the ruthless warrior, but I am also the silly animal enthusiast, and I can be both without having to sacrifice one or the other.
And now all my weapons are gone, and all I have left is dust and memories. Soon, even those will fade away, and then what?
As the night grows late, everyone heads off to sleep, though I hang back to make sure all the animals have a place for the night. Grandpa Du also lingers behind, scooping up sweet, snoring Kishi as if she were a tiny baby rather than the hundred kilo beast that she is. Coddling the spoiled quin, Grandpa Du gestures for me to walk beside him as he heads off to his room. When I was first crippled, he begins, sparking up a story out of nowhere, All the Healers, Herbalists, and Physicians I met with all recommended the same thing. Amputate the useless leg, because all it does is cause pain. I of course refused, because it was my leg. How could I bear to part with it? So instead, I treated the pain and clung to the hope of recovery, and where did that get me? Addicted to dream smoke and in constant pain for several decades is where. The Medical Saint could have restored my leg even if it wasnt there, so the only reason to keep the leg was pride and pride alone. Shaking his head with a sad smile, he fixes me with a knowing look. I understand why you held onto your Spiritual Weapons for as long as you did, but do not make the same mistake I did. Hope is both sweet nectar and deadly poison in one. The weapons are gone, you must accept this. When you recover, you will have new weapons forged, and it will be a day to celebrate, but do not cling to hope without cause. Do not let yourself be poisoned by hope.
Smiling in spite of myself, I hug Grandpa Du and ask, Is it that obvious?
Of course. Youve been sitting around all night instead of poring over your notes in search of answers. Ruffling my hair, which is still covered in product and less disgusting than I expected, Grandpa Du says, My advice, which you will likely ignore, is to get a good nights sleep so you will be bright-eyed and fresh-faced when you read your notes tomorrow. You are making great strides in your recovery, so there is no need to over-rush, and haste makes waste even in the best of circumstances. Puffing up with pride, he says, The others are too stuffed up to say this often, but you are a marvel, little Rain, and not because of your strength or brilliance. Even if you never recover and fall from grace, this old man is proud to have you as his grand-son in law, because you are a good man.
A good man, I repeat, wry and unimpressed. And look what thats got me.
A loving family, two affectionate wives, a devoted concubine, and a charming young wifey, by my count. Grinning as he shooes me away, Grandpa Du adds, Do not underestimate the value of love, little Rain. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all.
...Love makes heroes and monsters of us all. Once again, I repeat Grandpa Dus words to myself while shuffling back to my room. Ping Pings loving Aura is in full blast as she herds me towards bed with a bevy of squeaks, while the red panda glares at us from on high in the trees so he can finally be free to swing. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all. Picking up the pace, I burst into my room and do exactly as Grandpa Du expected, sitting down at my desk to flip through my notes in a frenzy. The information all but leaps off the page at me as I search for the relevant sections, the answer on the tip of my tongue but still yet to coalesce into a real thought. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all, I mumble over and over, more so I dont forget, until finally...
Holy Shit! Thats it!
Chapter Meme
Chapter 610When it comes to big ticket fights, Ive seen some real shit.I had front row seats to Akanais duel against the Demon Vivek Daatei. When Bastard Lius sword erupted from Yo Lings belly, I was dangling in the splash zone. In Sinuji, Nian Zu unleashed the Shooting Star on Zhu Changzui, and I was almost knocked off my feet by the resulting aftershocks. It was all incredibly impressive, but then, in that same battle, I witnessed the Ancestral Mole-Lady raise a towering wave of earth and Guan Suo disperse it with a much smaller cloud of ash, and I thought, Wow. Blessings are overpowered.Those were the greatest hits I ever had the misfortune to experience first-hand, but aside from the sheer resilience of Big Poppa Piggy, none of the mundane Martial Warriors were particularly impressive. Now, to be fair, every single one of the previously listed combatants could kill me with ease, even when I was at the peak of my strength, but Id always believed there was a stark difference between Blessed Martial Warriors and their mundane counterparts. Despite Dads efforts to convince me otherwise, everything Id ever seen pointed to the same, undeniable fact, that focusing on a Blessing was much better than focusing on Forms, because the disparity in endgame power-levels is just too high. Its like fighters and wizards in video games; the fighter is strong early and falls off late, while the wizard is the reverse, and well... late game is all that matters, right? Plus, I thought itd be cool to shoot water bullets and conjure water shields, but when it comes right down to it, I always believed that at the highest levels of the Martial Path, an Elemental Blessing was an advantage mere physical strength could never overcome.Turns out, Ive just never seen a Peak Expert really cut loose.Nian Zus Shooting Star is impressive and all, but considering he was unable to beat Goujian in single combat, Ive been feeling mildly scornful of his physical prowess. However, the Legates moves put everything I know to shame, and I suspect he might actually be a half-step Divinity, a warrior stronger than Peak Experts but not quite ready to take on Ancestral Beasts. For a tenth of a second, he all but disappears from sight as I reach for Enlightenment, but where normally this would slow things down to a crawl, the Legates battle is reduced to mere flashes of gold and black. Its like watching a poorly made flip book, where scenes jump from one to the next with little to no transition as the golden-robed Legate blinks about the room with multiple obsidian blurs hot on his heels. Im still able to parse together the battles progression thanks to context clues and such, but my mind is barely able to keep up, much less wrap itself around the seemingly impossible feats taking place. Gravity seems like an afterthought as the Legate puts his feet wherever he pleases, jumping from bed to windowsill before running up the walls and onto the roof, whereupon he leaps over his foes and trades blows mid-air in an awe-inspiring effort to keep them off his back. Never before have I seen anyone move with such speed, to the point where I cant even identify the type of sword he wields or where he drew it from as the metallic blur darts about his slender frame in a dazzling display of skill and finesse. Aside from the jet-black dagger jutting out of his chest, the Wraiths weapons are unable to penetrate the Legates steely defence, and the wound doesnt even seem to slow him down as he fights with the grace and elegance of a god given flesh.And yet... the Wraiths still stand, even the one who was sent flying out of the room in their first exchange, clutching a single obsidian dagger while his other arm hangs loosely at his side. Not only are these cloaked assassins able to match the Legates speed and skill, their practised coordination seems to have him on the back foot. Its a combination of their billowy cloaks and confusing movements, flowing about the room in a ring of ebony death. Even their exposed skin is dark as night, covered in ash or ink to better hide in the shadows, and their smooth, gliding motions leave me unable to keep track of each individual Wraith. To my eyes, it almost seems like they melt into one another, crashing without impact like weightless shadows shifting about the room with impossible speed and grace.All this takes place in the blink of an eye, with dozens of exchanges ringing out so consistently it could almost be mistaken for a single note. Then, before the daggers in my sleeves are even halfway out their sheathes, the Seneschal joins the fight, and I regret mouthing off to the old fart so many times before. Though the others are fast, the Seneschal is even faster as his dazzling sword bisects a Wraith with ease, and my eyes are unable to even follow his movements except in those brief moments when he slows down to pivot. If the Legate and Wraiths were a flip book, the Seneschal is more like a static comic, with panels poorly arranged to illustrate flow and seemingly pulling off impossible movements. One moment he stands at the Legates side with back turned to his enemies, and the next hes behind the Wraiths and facing his foes with weapon drawn, then back to the Legates side once more as the bodies hit the floor. Double-edged Jian humming whilst covered in the sickly-green blood of his enemies, the Solitary Sword stands ready to defend his liege, but there are no more foes to be found aside from the singular bisected form lying dead on my bedroom floor.And just as quickly as all the chaos began, the battle comes to an uncertain end. Several seconds pass before I even realize its all over and my daggers are utterly useless, a period of time which seems longer than the battle itself. As the dust settles, I find my room in complete tatters, with the floor, walls, and furniture all carved to pieces and strewn all about, and a pool of greenish Ichor spilling out of the corpse and slowly spreading across the wooden floors. Sentinels and Death Corps silently appear in droves, their weapons at the ready yet seconds too late to defend their liege, who rattles off commands without a care for the weapon lodged in his sternum. There are five Peak Expert Wraiths on the loose. Lock down the Citadel and double the guards for all General Officers. Peak Experts are to gather together and travel in groups, and secure our hospitals, craftsmen, and other vital tradesmen to ensure they are not picked off.Follow current novels on novelbin.comTheres more to the Legates orders, but my world goes silent and fuzzy as I notice a gaping absence in my awareness, one whose presence Id only just come to terms with. Shuffling in place, I turn around and try to orient myself in the ruins of my old room, but even after a full circle, I find myself unable to find my bearings. Theres something wrong, something off about my perception, and then it hits me like a hammer as I come face to face with a gaping hole in the wall where the Seneschals sword must have passed through. The wall once housed the shattered remnants of my Spiritual weapons, but no more. The tumultuous battle has rendered my fragile weapons to little more than fine, metallic sand, spilling off the shelves they were lovingly displayed upon. They were symbols of better times when I rode to battle with those weapons in hand, and of a hopeful future in which I would repair and reclaim them to use against the hated Enemy.A past which exists only in memory, and a future I can hope for no more.Faltering beneath the cumbersome weight of the truth, I stumble in place and fall to my knees. The shadows close in around me, smothering and suffocating me as I struggle for breath, and I do nothing but pray for a rude awakening from this nightmare or the warm welcome of death. Neither comes and I am left to face the cold, harsh reality, that my weapons are gone for good, never to be seen again. It was a slim chance Id ever bring them back, even if I somehow miraculously recovered, but the dream was what sustained me, and even that has been denied me. Ive seen this coming for months now, have known my weapons werent recovering the same way I was, but to see it realized hurts me in ways I wasnt prepared for. Moving without knowing, I reach into the growing pile of what was once Peace and run my fingers through the mixture of metal, dust, animal fur, and who knows what else, and confirm the connection is dead and gone.Ive lost a part of myself today, as real as any limb or organ. Peace, Tranquility, and Unity were all named for things I hoped to have one day, ideals I yearned to bring to this turbulent world, but now it seems those dreams were for naught. Despite all my protests otherwise, I always believed I had a purpose in this world, had come here for a specific reason, not out of arrogance or self-importance, but because... I needed to believe it. How else could I explain my mere existence? Why else would I have been put through so much suffering? Its what drove me to endure all that harsh training and to push through all those horrific experiences, to continue onwards through all the grief and hardships, the trials and tribulations, because I believed it was all for a reason, to prepare me for what lay ahead, but thats all a lie, and I can live it no longer. Im no hero of fate or Chosen Son of the Mother. Im just a terrified man whos been thrown into circumstances beyond his comprehension, and this, more than anything, fills me with dread and terror.Bony fingers clamp about my shoulder and wrench me to my feet, where I find myself face to face with the Seneschal. Solitary Sword Zhang Jun Bao, a contemporary of Grandpa Dus, but from the two... or maybe three attacks I saw him execute, it would appear the Seneschal has left his old rival far behind. The Legate too, as even in the state of Enlightenment, I couldnt wholly make out his movements, and Ive only seen flashy acrobatics like his when the members of the Iron Banner are messing around to determine their rankings. The Seneschals lips move, but my brain is unable to parse through his meaning, the sounds all distorted and nonsensical like muted, warbling trumpets covering speech. Frowning, the wrinkled Seneschal gives me a shake and repeats himself, causing something to snap into place as my brain kicks into gear once more. wrong with you? Were you injured?No, I reply, my tone remarkably neutral considering the circumstances. Im fine. Glancing down at the rest of me, I double check to make sure, but the Wraiths didnt even look at me askew during the entire assassination attempt. Weird. My notes survived the chaos though, both the revised copies and the final product I dropped in favour of my daggers. Theyre a little crumpled now, but should still be legible, so thank the Heavens for small favours. Yep. All in one piece. Lost my Spiritual Weapons though. Dusted. Gone.The last bit just slips out as I had no intention of saying anything, but the Seneschal simply ignores it and drags me over. So long as you are unharmed. Now, do whatever it is you do. Gesturing at the bisected Wraith, lying there with his head next to his ankles, the Seneschal takes my notes, pushes me towards the corpse, and steps back to watch, but I have no idea what he expects. Grimacing in exasperation, he explains, The Ichor, boy. Do whatever it is you do, and keep a clear mind. The young master will have questions for you, and he expects coherent answers.Glancing at the Legate, I see him watching me with focused clarity from the ruined remains of my mattress. The bed frame was shattered beyond repair sometime during all the chaos, but the mattress was only cut up a bit and is still more or less in one piece, which is enough for the Legate to lie down on while an Imperial Healer in Liang Family robes tends to his wounds. Aside from a light sheen of sweat across his brow and single lock of hair fallen out of place, theres no sign of exertion in his aloof expression, nor any indication of pain. Not bad for a dude who just had a poisoned dagger lodged in his chest, but from the looks of his mostly clean robes, he was able to stop the bleeding almost instantaneously. The entire battle was over and done with in maybe two seconds, if that, yet I saw more than enough to know that the Legates Imperial Title of Shen ZhenWu is not undeserved.Divine True Warrior is the exact translation, but True Divine Warrior would probably more accurately convey its meaning. A minor difference, but language shenanigans have gotten me into troubles before.Urged on by the Seneschals impatient noises, I return to the task at hand, though my mind is still mourning the loss of my weapons. Seeing only Death Corps soldiers around, I figure theres no point hiding anything anymore and dip my fingers into the foul, yellow-green Ichor pooling about the Wraiths corpse, which I only now figured out meant that this is no Wraith, but a Demon in human form. I am, of course, immediately proven wrong as the viscous goop does absolutely nothing besides stink up the room and cling to my fingers. There is no tingle of Energy rushing into my body, no draining of whatever this foul liquid might be, and its all I can do to keep from flailing my hand about in a desperate attempt to free myself of its touch. Ew. Thats not Ichor. Wiping my hands on the dead Wraiths loose western robes, I tear free the garments to better wipe my hands, and uncover a haggard, torso underneath, his cracked skin lacking moisture yet hanging loosely from his frames. Though freshly slain, the Wraiths corpse looks like its been dead for some time and then partially mummified by someone who doesnt know what hes doing. Dark, unseeing orbs peer out from open eyes, eyes which are pitch black as far as I can see, and removing the veil reveals brittle, grey skin in the shade of an overcast sky. The darker colours leech away as the seconds tick by to reveal a pale, wan complexion underneath, and those darkened eyes begin to clear up and reveal hints of white around the edges. This leads me to believe this inky darkness routine is brought about by Chi, but then again, everything is technically an expression of Heavenly Energy, so what else is new? One thing is for certain though. This isnt a Demon. This is a man. A Defiled man, but human nonetheless.I still cant make heads or tails of her relation to Lin-Lin, but Im pretty sure shes an Ancestral Beast. Whether shes Lin-Lin and Taduks Mother still has yet to be seen, but I know Ill feel better having a Divinity around. I mean, the Wraiths waited to strike until after the Enemy Divinity drew Chief Baldy away, which means theyll probably avoid my house too. That is, of course unless Guard Leader is not a Divinity and just a really strong, pushy half-beast, but either way, I wont complain if she wants to stick around.Today threw my perception of power levels all out of whack, and Im not sure where anyone sits on the scales anymore. There was a time when Akanai was the end all, be all of strength, but now I dont even know if shes on the higher end of Peak Expert. Ive never seen her pressed in a fight except in that battle against Demon Vivek, but she was sorely hampered by her need to put up a mental barrier against his odd, dream attacks, and still easily beat him into the ground. She had trouble dealing the killing blow without taking injury herself, but she was also handicapped by the need to keep him away from the slumbering soldiers, so its hard to say if she could match the Legates strength. Never one to shy at asking questions, I bring it up after describing the Legates strength to the best of my abilities, but Akanai merely purses her lips and frowns. Impossible to say which of us is stronger without trading blows. Though uncertain, she gives me a reassuring smile and pats my head. But fear not, little Rain. Even if my strength is found lacking, there are still taller shoulders to hold up the Heavens. Your recovery is progressing faster than any of us expected, but even if you need another century, the People will ensure you have all the time you need.Thats my family. Always here to look out for me, but never willing to tell me how. Its wonderful and frustrating all at the same time, but I wouldnt change a thing about them.Despite the threat of Demon-Juiced assassins hanging over our heads, we still try to make the best of the situation and spend the evening in each others company, mostly sitting about the courtyard watching the twins and animals play. For once, I cant bring myself to enjoy their cutesy, floofy antics, not because my mind is stuck on the days events or my mysterious, unread notes, but because I cant get over the loss of my weapons. Its stupid and silly to be this distraught over a few broken pieces of metal, but they meant the world to me. Not just the strength they represented or the concepts they embodied, but also the memories which came with them.I remember how thrilled I was upon receiving Peace, a princely gift I didnt even entirely understand at the time, and all the frustration which came after. My beloved wife wrapped the hilt, my gruff father found the needed materials, and they, along with Husolt helped me find my way along the Martial Path and bind the weapon for my use. I named it Peace, because I knew that the peace of the sword was the only peace I would ever know in this life. Might makes right, so without might, I would forever be waiting to be trod upon, just like I am right now. Make no mistake, despite my lofty titles and rising star, without the strength of the People behind me, I would be long dead and forgotten. Even then, should the costs of keeping me around ever begin to outweigh the benefits, Ive no doubt the Legate would be rid of me in a heartbeat. I could see it in his eyes today, the way he calmly and logically considered the pros and cons of having me murdered in cold blood, and Im still not sure hes made his final decision.So without my sword, without strength, I will never know peace in this life, and forever remain but one step shy of disaster so long as I draw breath.Next came Tranquility, a gift from Yan and Grandpa Du. Also crafted by Husolt, he poured his heart and soul into a unique shield suited for my fighting style. Despite all my fears and reservations, I fight close and dirty because thats how I prefer it, and Tranquility was perfect for my needs. It complemented my aggressive tendencies, yet also afforded me the luxury of fighting defensively if need be. I always thought it strange how I associated the shield with the more aggressive side of my personality, but Tranquility suited Baledagh perfectly by reinforcing his strengths and shoring up his weaknesses. With this shield in hand, I could go all out and still have something to rely on in case of disaster, and I cannot count the times the shield saved my life. Not just by blocking an attack or claiming a life, but by just being there, it afforded me options I might otherwise not have had.I named it Tranquility because that was what it gave me, the ability to calmly take a step back and find a much-needed moment of serenity in the chaos of battle. With this weapon in hand, I knew I would be protected from the worst of my mistakes, but now, I live life on the razors edge, with no room to err in any direction I turn.Last of all, was Unity. Unity of mind and unity of purpose, the transforming glaive-gun was the missing piece of the puzzle. Peace and Tranquility are good and fine, but Conflict and Turmoil are all but inevitable. I wanted to be myself and keep the Warrior separate, to protect myself from the horrors of war and stay true to my modern morals and beliefs, and while Mahakala showed me what I had done, it was Unity which showed me why my methods were flawed. Even a modern man must take up arms and kill when the situation demands it, for the right to freedom, liberty, life, and perhaps more, but we all like to pretend peace is the only way. Its not. Peace requires compromise, and even without the Defiled, there are just some people who are unable to compromise, which is when violence becomes a necessity. Fight the good fight and adapt to new circumstances when necessary, but do not lose yourself along the way, that is the lesson Unity taught me. I am the ruthless warrior, but I am also the silly animal enthusiast, and I can be both without having to sacrifice one or the other.And now all my weapons are gone, and all I have left is dust and memories. Soon, even those will fade away, and then what?As the night grows late, everyone heads off to sleep, though I hang back to make sure all the animals have a place for the night. Grandpa Du also lingers behind, scooping up sweet, snoring Kishi as if she were a tiny baby rather than the hundred kilo beast that she is. Coddling the spoiled quin, Grandpa Du gestures for me to walk beside him as he heads off to his room. When I was first crippled, he begins, sparking up a story out of nowhere, All the Healers, Herbalists, and Physicians I met with all recommended the same thing. Amputate the useless leg, because all it does is cause pain. I of course refused, because it was my leg. How could I bear to part with it? So instead, I treated the pain and clung to the hope of recovery, and where did that get me? Addicted to dream smoke and in constant pain for several decades is where. The Medical Saint could have restored my leg even if it wasnt there, so the only reason to keep the leg was pride and pride alone. Shaking his head with a sad smile, he fixes me with a knowing look. I understand why you held onto your Spiritual Weapons for as long as you did, but do not make the same mistake I did. Hope is both sweet nectar and deadly poison in one. The weapons are gone, you must accept this. When you recover, you will have new weapons forged, and it will be a day to celebrate, but do not cling to hope without cause. Do not let yourself be poisoned by hope.Smiling in spite of myself, I hug Grandpa Du and ask, Is it that obvious?Of course. Youve been sitting around all night instead of poring over your notes in search of answers. Ruffling my hair, which is still covered in product and less disgusting than I expected, Grandpa Du says, My advice, which you will likely ignore, is to get a good nights sleep so you will be bright-eyed and fresh-faced when you read your notes tomorrow. You are making great strides in your recovery, so there is no need to over-rush, and haste makes waste even in the best of circumstances. Puffing up with pride, he says, The others are too stuffed up to say this often, but you are a marvel, little Rain, and not because of your strength or brilliance. Even if you never recover and fall from grace, this old man is proud to have you as his grand-son in law, because you are a good man.A good man, I repeat, wry and unimpressed. And look what thats got me.A loving family, two affectionate wives, a devoted concubine, and a charming young wifey, by my count. Grinning as he shooes me away, Grandpa Du adds, Do not underestimate the value of love, little Rain. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all....Love makes heroes and monsters of us all. Once again, I repeat Grandpa Dus words to myself while shuffling back to my room. Ping Pings loving Aura is in full blast as she herds me towards bed with a bevy of squeaks, while the red panda glares at us from on high in the trees so he can finally be free to swing. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all. Picking up the pace, I burst into my room and do exactly as Grandpa Du expected, sitting down at my desk to flip through my notes in a frenzy. The information all but leaps off the page at me as I search for the relevant sections, the answer on the tip of my tongue but still yet to coalesce into a real thought. Love makes heroes and monsters of us all, I mumble over and over, more so I dont forget, until finally...Holy Shit! Thats it!Chapter Meme
