Savage Divinity - Chapter 680

Chapter 680








Chapter 680

As Chieftain of Chieftains, Vithars first priority was to learn.

Not the reading of books these southlanders put so much stock in, but rather to study and scrutinize his enemies and rivals alike in order to improve beyond their abilities, for there were no allies across tribes. The lesser Chieftains were merely Vithars collaborators, heeding his orders until they sensed weakness and sought to take what was his, but he did not intend to give them any chance. This came as second nature to him, having lived this way his entire life until he came to trust Asmani. Now, in her absence, he fell back into old habits while commanding the garos; he slept lightly and never in the same building twice, kept clean food on his person at all times and had others test it for him first, and most importantly, he kept a tight rein on the Ancestors and heeded their advice sparingly, for they saw treachery and bloodshed lurking about every corner.

Even Vithars tribesmen could no longer be counted on to guard him, not that he ever put much stock in their loyalty to begin with. Nor did he trust the Uniters black-armoured Transcendents or hidden guardian Wraiths to keep him safe, despite how effective theyd been thus far. There was no one Vithar could truly depend on, not anymore, and while he would have once considered this the norm, his reliance on Asmani and time spent in the oasis had lessened him. Weakness could not be tolerated in the Chieftain of Chieftains, so he hardened his resolve, honed his instincts, and improved his strength to become the Prime Champion his people deserved.

His people. Not just his tribesmen, but his people, all the tribesmen of the north whod survived this long. Numbers beyond the thousands made little sense to him, mere concepts he had nothing to compare against, but having heard how millions of his people had already died just to make it this far left his chest burning with fury and his heart aching for vengeance. To fall in battle against a strong foe was one thing, but these southlanders embraced their weakness rather than reject it, hiding behind their walls and armour of steel and leather. Such pitiful men and women were no match for even unblooded children, but instead of accepting their place in the world as prey and victim or striving to improve and adapt, they created contraptions of wood, iron, and tendon to deliver death to Vithars tribesmen from afar.

Crossbows, the southlanders called them, wielded by Irregulars who had no place being on the battlefield, yet they accounted for the deaths of too many garos and riders. Every tribe had their tales of mighty Chieftains and Champions falling victim to the hail of bolts raining down from above, many of whom died before even closing in to do glorious battle. An undeserving kill, one dealt by contemptible weaklings, and the worst of it was that there was nothing to be gained from the killing or dying. The world lost a warrior, but no Irregulars would rise to replace him, because what could be learned when dealing death from such great distances? If all war were fought in this manner, then the Empires weakness would only spread until they were too fragile to withstand the pressure of the world itself, a lamentable end Vithars people would never see, for they would have long since been eradicated by these clever cowards.

Feeble through they might be, these Irregular tactics were unquestionably effective, so Vithar treated the people of the Empire like the canny adversaries theyd proven themselves to be. While it stung his pride to even consider it, pride had no place when it came to survival, so he led his raids with care and caution aplenty while instructing his under-chieftains to do the same. Unfortunately, few cared enough to remember Vithars warnings in the heat of battle, and he lost more riders than he cared to in the initial forays, but this was both blessing and curse. Though the tribes dwindled in numbers, the survivors learned from their failures and harvested new Ancestors from those who fell in battle against the weak southlanders, their dead wisdom added to the collective for the living to make better use of. Vithar himself led a dozen such successful raids, driving his tribesmen over the towering wall and pushing past into the verdant green farmlands, where they did battle against the enemy hidden behind their smooth, stone walls.

Such was the mindset of prey, to huddle and hide in hopes of escaping death, but this only delayed the inevitable. Even if these weakling were able to drive Vithar back, there would come a day when he caught them outside their walls and then vengeance would be his. Despite the difficulties, he profited much from the raids as his tribesmen came away with packs supplies, materials, and prisoners aplenty.

All the while, Vithar learned from his foes and adjusted to match them, while sharing his knowledge with those under-chieftains capable of making their way back to the West alive after a raid. The patrols moved in timed intervals, so if spotted, split in two groups to ride north and south, allowing at least one half of the raiding party to make it over the wall uncontested. When attacking the forts, spread out on the approach, but target only a single wall, and avoid the gates altogether, for death lurks behind them. Though lacking in sport, the fields and houses were not to be neglected, for enough rodents will fill even the emptiest of bellies. Offer no duels, for the southlanders would not always honour them, and attack or retreat as soon as you are seen, for the enemy catapults had more range than one might otherwise believe.

Those he sent on raids were the least worthy of his people, ones barely in control of their murderous desires accompanied by the unblooded, but even this minor loss was enough to set young Gen to complaining. There was no survival without sacrifice however, and once Vithar realized the powerful young warrior was more concerned about the lost garos than tribesmen, he ordered the tribes to trigger a spawning season and showed the fool just how many eggs could be laid by a single breeding female. That quieted the brat down some, though he did grumble about the time wasted even after Vithar explained that breeding slowed down the entire pack, as the males would lose much of their drive and bloodlust once their desire to mate was sated.

Though he gleaned much from his raids and excursions, Vithar spent the rest of his free time shadowing the Western Warrior Gongsun Qi. This was one southlander who was far from weak, his strength above and beyond what Vithar could even fathom, but it was not strength which drew him to the slender, willowy mans side, but rather his expertise in large scale command. Though Vithar was now Chieftain of Chieftains, the way things were done under the Uniters banner was strange and unfamiliar to him. Rather than task the under-chieftains directly, Gongsun Qi passed his orders to Vithar with little to no instruction on how to carry them out. Attack this district here and burn or bring back the timber stored in their warehouse. Assault the Wall here and hold the patrol in place for at least half an hour, before retreating to the north and west. Sink the ships passing by this place during this time, while capturing whatever prisoners you can. These were the nature of Gongsun Qis tasks, and while Vithar was more than capable of completing them all himself, he was unable to travel so quickly to carry them out. Thus, Vithar was forced to do something he loathed with every bone in his body, something that set the Ancestors to screeching every time he did it.

Vithar had to learn how to trust his under-chieftains and manage them appropriately.

That was the way these southlanders waged war, and it was part of what made them so effective, separate tribes working together towards a single goal. Vithars tasks were but a single piece to what Gongsun Qi was trying to achieve, and even now, what that might be was not yet clear to the Chieftain of Chieftains. Asmani might have figured it out by now, but she was always more clever than he, and hed gotten used to leaving the puzzles for her to solve. Yet another reason why trust was weakness, for her presence made him ignore his own critical flaws and kept him from improving, but so long as he still drew breath, there was always room to improve. Day after day, Vithar listened in on Gongsun Qis meetings and studied his maps in order to make sense of the overall situation, collecting all the information he saw and heard without making progress in his efforts to decipher it. The greatest problem was his inability to read, as there was much information stored in the scribbles these southlanders put so much stock in, and he was beginning to see why. Rather than wait for his under-chieftains to return and report, Gongsun Qi gathered information from fast riders bearing sealed messages, allowing him to learn much with minimal delay and adapt his plans as necessary.

Asmani would make much headway with these scribbles, unlike Vithar who struggled to differentiate one from the next, even with the assistance of his near perfect memory. Knowing what the character for death looked like did not tell him if the message meant dead, dying, or will die, assuming it was actually the character for death and not something that looked so similar save for a single added stroke or missing dot or something equally minor that could easily be overlooked.

You be distracted. Gongsun Qi was a soft-spoken man, but Vithar had long since learned not to mistake this for weakness, for there was none in the iron-eyed Warrior as he tapped the scroll unfurled across his desk. Not unexpected from a Defiled tribesman, but strive to focus for at least a few minutes so that this Prince might pass along this vital information you require to keep your cavalry alive, oh Chieftain of Chieftains.

There was a hint of mockery in the mans slurred drawl, one that would have had the Vithar of old ready to bare blades and draw blood, but he held his temper and stared down the stronger warrior. There was no shame in admitting that he was not Gongsun Qis match, but what was true today would not be true tomorrow, for Vithar was young and vital while the older warrior was neither. Giving the scroll yet another look, he deciphered enough of it to have confidence in his conclusion. There are Death Corps guarding the districts, he said, brimming with satisfaction at Gongsun Qis evident surprise. The black armoured Warriors who fight to the last. This is a problem, why?

So, you can read. Nodding in approval, the bronzed general turned the scroll towards Vithar and said, Read this for me.

I cannot. Pointing at the words he recognized, Vithar said, Death Corps. Two-hundred. Districts. Looking Gongsun Qi in the eyes, he offered the barest hint of a shrug and said, The most recent raids have yet to report back. They are lost?

Still nodding, the southlander signalled at the attendants standing off to the side said, Arrange a tutor for our Chieftain of Chieftains. Our cooperation will improve by leaps and bounds once he is able to read without assistance. Seeing Vithars scowl, Gongsun Qi said, This Prince suspects it will not be long before you pick up the skill on your own, but time saved is time earned.

Grudgingly nodding in acceptance of this shared wisdom, Vithar glanced back at the scroll and said, So Death Corps at the Districts. Why does this matter? These Death Corps fight well, but they bleed and die like any other.

Because now the cost of raiding the districts be more than the returns. Raising his hand to forestall an argument, the southlander explained, Even this Prince would not pit two-hundred of his soldiers against two-hundred Death Corps and expect to emerge unscathed, and this be without accounting for the supporting militia. That was another word for Irregular, as far as Vithar could understand, which made him wonder why these southlanders liked to put so many different labels on the same thing. Cups, mugs, teacups, and bowls, all words for what amounted to a vessel for holding food or water, only one example of such southlander foolishness, but Vithar didnt care enough to investigate.

There is benefit to be had. Never one to give up without a fight, he challenged Gongsun Qis decisions whenever he could, for Vithar saw these discussions as a different sort of duel, one of words that might reveal the southlanders mettle. Blooding and experience for the younglings who have yet to prove themselves in battle. Teaching my under-chieftains how their enemy thinks and fights. Raiding the towns for prizes and materials. My riders do all this and more.

All matters for Chieftains to worry about, Gongsun Qi countered, and before Vithar could respond to this insult, the general clarified, And you be Chieftain of Chieftains. You must elevate yourself and your way of thinking, for you command not hundreds, not thousands, but a veritable horde of riders who by and large have sat idle and unused.

They are blooded, Vithar explained, and in his mind, there was nothing more that needed to be said, but he made allowances for the southlander. The unblooded are... meaningless, unknowns, like many of the words on this scroll, but once blooded, the Ancestors will know their measure and so too will their Chieftains. These raids are for lesser tribesmen to prove themselves, so with little wealth to be gained and time spared for indulgence, the others have no reason to join.

An interesting concept, this blooding be. Nodding in comprehension, Gongsun Qi leaned back in his seat and studied Vithar closely, for what seemed like the first time. After taking long enough for Vithar to grow bored enough to entertain the notion of heeding the Ancestors and driving his axe into the southlanders chest, Gongsun Qi sat up and said, You understand numbers yes? Two hundred Death Corps is no small force.

Yes. My raiding parties are one-hundred to five-hundred riders strong. Two hundred is not many, but not few, meaning the districts will be impossible to take and raze before reinforcements arrive.

Yet you asked why their presence mattered.

A question that was not a question, yet another example of southlander senselessness. Because our goal is not to take the districts, he replied. We raid to bleed our enemy and make them respond, so that we might study, learn, and adapt to how they fight.

Oh? And what have you learned?

Now the southlander was testing him, but Vithar was always up for a challenge. Pointing at the map, he found the midpoints between each Citadel and said, Here, the enemy is weakest. Their patrols are slow to react and reinforcements delayed in their dispatch, depending on which district my riders attack. This one, seven and five, is defended by soldiers moving from the Northern Citadel, while seven and six is defended by soldiers from Central Citadel. The same change occurs at one-five-zero and one-five-one, but the response from the Southern Citadel is much slower.

Anything else?

The Southern Cavalry cannot keep pace with my riders. A good thing too, for they rode massive beasts with thick, grey hides the southlanders called rhinos and elephants, and even gajashias were no match for either in a direct confrontation. The Northern Cavalry is most deadly, for I have lost the most riders there. Central Cavalry is inconsistent, sometimes shockingly competent and others so inept I do not know how they still draw breath, much less hold command over warriors.

So in your opinion, we should focus our attacks on the south?

A carefully baited trap, one Vithar saw coming. Only if we intend to ignore the districts to drive further in land. The southern cavalry cannot keep pace, but even they will eventually catch up if my riders stay in one place. This is no good, for then my people will be cut off and without support. No, the place to break through is the North.

Oh? Why is that?

Because it offers the biggest prize. Pointing at yet another marker on the map, Vithar grinned and said, This place, where the boats gather.

SuiHua.

Yes. Once we hold this SuiHua, the rest of the southlands will be open to us, and we will no longer be forced to attack only from a single direction. My tribesmen will scatter across the plains and force the enemy to fight without their walls to defend them. And no more needed to be said, for Vithars people were strong, and the southlanders weak, so the outcome was obvious to all.

An astute observation, Gongsun Qi said, before snapping his fingers at his attendant. The submissive southlander hopped to obey despite being a Warrior to be wary of, unfurling another scroll overtop the map which Vithar studied in length. The bulk of the paper drawings rather than characters, one he eventually realized depicted the port itself, with a scattering of words and numbers that he was not all too familiar with. What say you now?

You would be a fool to accept, a voice whispered, one Hideo tried his best to ignore, Without first considering the price.

The price was simple enough. Gen needed allies strong enough to stand against the Empire, and Hideo was a talent worth nurturing. This power was likely a gift from the Uniter, and the answer to how Gen progressed so quickly along the Martial Path, so of course Hideo would surpass the peasant if given the same resources. Reaching out with his Domain, he snatched up the power in Gens hand and felt it swell up inside him, filling him with both strength and Insight which he sat down to process. Even now, days later while seated at the border between West and Central, Hideo was still busy processing the Energy of the Heavens and basking in the strength it provided. Monk Eyebrows had guided him through it and hinted that there was more for the taking, but Hideo was unable to understand just what the monk was talking about or how he was supposed to seize this power. The parasite, no doubt, but what parasite? There were no marks on Hideos body besides those left by his own flail, and though he only had a rudimentary knowledge of human anatomy, he was unable to find any physical anomalies inside his flesh, blood, or bone.

No matter. He would deal with the parasite in time, once he finished processing the Uniters gift. A mysterious man, the leader of the Chosen, one Hideo had yet to meet in person, but Wisdom Vyakhya spoke highly of him, in those rare moments the old monk was around.

Come. At Monk Eyebrows signal, Hideo came out of his meditative trance and surged to his feet, for time was of the essence now. They only had a small window of opportunity to slip past the Wall unnoticed, though the details of how such a window had been arranged was beyond Hideos understanding. How a thousand troops and gajashias could go unnoticed, Hideo could not say, but he did not take for granted that they would. Even as his troops locked their ramps in place and led their mounts across, he kept a close watch on his surroundings using more than his eyes alone. One with the World, his senses informed him of every loose stone and crooked nail in his immediate area, flooding him with so much information he struggled to process it all. No, not just struggled, but failed to process, his mind overwhelmed by the multitude of facts surging through his thoughts.

A hand-print against the battlement. Someone stopped to lean there, leaving traces of sauce indicating theyd recently eaten barbecued pork.

Dust was gathering in one corner. No one checked it recently, making it the perfect hiding spot for a Concealed assailant.

A trail of cracked sunflower shells, left by an insubordinate soldier, snacking while out on patrol and likely paying no attention to his surroundings.

Ashes. More lacking discipline, this time stemming from the top, as only an Officer would be so bold as to openly smoke opiates on duty.

There was enough evidence to surmise that someone intended for this foolish officer to eventually take the blame for Hideos attack, but who? Powerful and knowledgeable as he might be, there was no way the Uniter could have arranged this, and no one in power would believe that a single patrol, no matter how incompetently managed, could have possibly allowed for a thousand enemy cavalry to slip by unnoticed. As Disciple to a Colonel General, he knew more than most of how Divinities fit into the Imperial Armys plans, so he was certain there was at least one Divinity patrolling this stretch of the Wall and watching for Concealed crossings.

Which either meant the Empire had a traitor in their ranks, or a free-holding Divinity was willing to look the other way in return for some benefit.

Having progressed by leaps and bounds due to the Uniters gift, Hideo knew full well that something like this would be enough to tempt a Divinity, for who would crave pure Heavenly Energy more than those closest to wielding it? Having been given a small taste, Hideo already craved more, but he had no idea how to get more, while Divinities would at least have some notion of how to proceed. To them, the Uniters gift would be like a sip of water to a man dying of thirst beside an unreachable oasis, a tempting prospect few could refuse out of hand. Giving such a gift had its drawbacks, since it risked knowledge of the Uniters wealth getting out and spurring the Imperial Clan to direct action, as there were few treasures more tempting than Heavenly Energy itself. Hideo barely even knew how it benefited him, but he knew enough to rank it as a priceless treasure, and the Imperial Clan no doubt knew even more. No matter. This was something for the Uniter to consider, as Hideo intended to clash with the Imperial Clan eventually. Today, tomorrow, or ten years from now, their conflict was inevitable, so he welcomed the trials and tribulations ahead.

A flower in a walled garden will never experience the hardships of the wild. Yet another of Grand-Uncle Juichis favoured idioms, used to defend his neglect of Hideos training.

Your Grand-Uncle loved you too much to neglect you, the voice said, and Hideo hated hearing the ring of truth in its words. Your pride tells you it was talent which allowed you to become one of the Hwarang, but you know this is not true.

Indeed. Even if Grand-Uncle Juichis guidance was admittedly lacking, Hideo would never have made it into the Hwarang without his assistance. Face and reputation alone were factors enough to weed out the majority of would-be challengers, and Hideo always had the benefit of countless skilled sparring partners to test his skills against. Then there was the matter of Grand-Uncle Juichis personal journals, which he shared with Hideo after he uncovered the secret of the Mountain Collapsing Stomp on his own, as well countless other benefits Hideo would be hard pressed to list simply because there were too many to remember. If not for the Mitsue family name, Hideo would not be the rising dragon he was today, and to deny this was to deny the steps hed already taken to get this far along his Path.

And yet deny it he would, because it hurt too much to acknowledge the truth.

Rage warred with regret within and he lost hold of Balance, and in his frustration, he unleashed his ire upon the world around him. It was no different from a childs tantrum, only instead of clenching his hands and stomping his feet, he sent his Chi barrelling out into the world around him, infused with all his unwanted emotions.

And in doing so, inadvertently discovered the Concealed Divinity.

Aura overwhelmed him in an instant and squeezed the breath from his lungs, and for a moment, he saw his death, but then Monk Eyebrows stepped in and the pressure abated, if only enough for Hideo to breathe. Bowing towards the same dusty corner hed noticed and ignored, Monk Eyebrows whispered, Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo. This monk has no eyes or ears, and he sees and hears nothing. Same too with this monks Disciple, blind as a newborn and equally as ignorant.

No response was forthcoming, but Monk Eyebrows straightened up and carried Hideo away with a Cloud-Step, leaving his retinue to recover from the ordeal and catch up on foot. For long minutes, they stood upon the fields of Central in utter silence as Hideo tried to come to terms with what he just experienced, reflecting on his memories and trying to understand how it all played out. Monk Eyebrows said nothing, but he offered silent encouragement as Hideo wrestled with his thoughts, right up until his retinue caught up and they set out towards their targeted district.

And then there was little time left for introspection, for Hideo had a job to do.

His scouts set out and returned with detailed information regarding the districts defences. Much of it was already known or expected, but the more information he had to work with, the less his foes could use to surprise him. There were two-hundred Death Corps Guards stationed in the district, but only forty on active duty at any time, split into eight groups of five as they patrolled the walls. Five shifts, with one on duty, one on reserve, and three resting at all times, an arrangement which stretched the small garrison to its utmost limits. There were commoners on patrol as well, but Hideo paid them no mind. They were effective when already in formation with their crossbows in hand, but in a surprise night raid, they would be as useful as chickens running underfoot and killed just as easily. That being said, there were more Death Corps guards than just the garrison, as well as a sizable contingent of Royal Guardians to boot, all to protect fair Zheng Luo, or more likely, keep her from fleeing from her unworthy husband.

Yes, that was probably it. Even though Falling Rain had no doubt sullied her fair flesh and ravaged her to his hateful hearts content, she no doubt yearned to escape him. He could only imagine how thrilled she would be when he offered her a chance at true freedom and promised to overlook her past indiscretions by taking her as his wife. No, that wouldnt do, taking a sullied woman as his first wife, but she deserved to be more than a mere concubine, so Hideo decided she would do for a third... no, a fifth wife, which was admittedly a low position, but still higher than a concubines lot. Besides, this was merely for the sake of face, as Hideo had no intention of loving any woman more than he loved Zheng Luo, and he would make it clear to her by periodically killing his first through fourth wives and replacing them whenever he grew bored.

A perfect solution.

Only if you see her as a prize to display, but she is a real person, with real feelings, the damnable voice said. You ever see your father treat your mother like that? Why do you never think about her?

Because she was still alive and Hideo had yet to see her disappointment, which meant he still had hope. Perhaps she still loved him and was willing to forgive him, or maybe she had rejected and denounced him, a prospect which hurt more than any whip or lash ever could.

Focus. There was a wife to be wooed and a war to be won here. Hed bring Luo-Luo to meet his mother as soon as everything was settled and not a moment before, because he could not afford the distraction. The eastern wall would be Hideos best bet, as it was closest to Zheng Luos borrowed manor, but this meant he would either have to retreat east and give up positioning around the district to his foes, or fight his way out towards the west. Neither prospect was enticing, but the main gates were to the west and filled with traps aplenty. Hideo had no desire to throw himself into his enemys net, so east it was, meaning he would have to slaughter all opposition before leaving to prevent word of his attack from getting out ahead of his escape. Circling around the district under the cover of darkness, he kept three kilometres between himself and the walls so as to avoid even the slim chance of being spotted, and he made his approach slowly. A calculated risk, but one worth taking, especially as the enemy would not be expecting an attack from this direction. The distance closed metre by arduous metre until the walls were a mere stones throw away, at which point he raised his mace and signalled the charge.

The thunder of hooves raised shouts of alarm as he sought the Razors edge once more, his Domain billowing out into the night air. The same ramps his troops used to traverse over the Western Wall served them just as well here, allowing his retinue to swarm into the district and cut down all who stood in their path. Howling in unrestrained glee, he smashed his dark-armoured foe into an unrecognizable mass and kept his Chosen on task, making short work of the defenders before charging into the district proper. Unchallenged, he rode for the manor which was little more than a hovel in his eyes and stopped short as he sensed the Warriors waiting within, more Death Corps guards waiting with halberds at the ready.

No matter, for he was Mitsue Hideo, Chosen of Heaven, and he was here to claim his bride.

Gathering all his pent up rage and frustration, he hefted his right mace and unleashed a Mountain Collapsing strike on the iron-reinforced gates. A few days ago, this would have shattered the door and opened up a hole large enough for him to stride through, but the Uniters gift had given him the Insight needed to utilize his Domain in more creative ways. Rather than focus the strength of his strike on the point of impact, he spread his Domain out to cover the entirety of the gate so that the force of his blow was evenly distributed across it. Thus, instead of shattering into splinters, the entire gate flew off its hinges and into the ranks of waiting Royal Guardians. None were injured by the projectile, but dodging it disrupted their formation, and Hideo took full advantage of their disorder to charge in and lay waste to their ranks.

Laying into the courtyard with a righteous fury, he delivered death to his foes with Reverberating blows that pulped their organs on contact. It didnt matter if they blocked or took the blow on armour, for Hideos attacks were more than just physical might or Chi-infused power, but imbued with the Energy of the Heavens themselves. A single touch was all it took to kill his foes, his Amplified Reverberations travelling through their armour and impacting directly against to their soft innards to explode their organs from within. Weapons humming with this newly mastered skill, he smashed through the Death Corps line to engage the Royal Guardians behind them. Imperial Warriors of renown who protected the Emperor Himself, they moved with speed and grace Hideo could not hope to match, but he responded with sheer power and emerged on top. None could stand against him as they threw themselves in his path, not here, not tonight, for this was his Path, his fate, his destiny at work, one that would see him with his true love, Zheng Luo.

A shrill whistling chime was all the warning he had, and he barely got his maces in place to block the blow aimed at his head. Though weak in force, the glancing impact left him rattled and shaking as a subtle Resonance travelled down his weapons and penetrated down to his bones, similar to what he utilized against his foes here, but less overbearing and more subtle in its attack. One strike was nothing, but he sensed that repeated blows would leave his nerves frayed and muscles too tense to even hold his weapons, meaning this was a Warrior he could not afford to leave unchecked.

Except how could he bear to raise his hand against his beautiful, beloved wife?

Clad only in a light shift that clung to her curvaceous frame, Zheng Luo stood behind her Royal Guardians with her flail in hand, the chain already whipping about for a second strike aimed at Hideos head. Blocking the second strike, he felt the Reverberations travel down to his gut and threaten to unleash all that was contained within, a most humiliating display if it should come to pass, and his patience for his future wife wore thin. How dare she disrespect her husband this way, especially after all the concessions he made to have her in his life? Just because he loved her did not mean he would tolerate her impertinence, so he would be sure to teach her a proper lesson and put her in her place.

The Razors Edge, Monk Eyebrows Sent.

Balance, the hateful voice insisted.

Hideo ignored them both and gave into his lust and desire, howling as he launched himself at his woman. He saw the fear and alarm in her eyes, and it only stoked the flames of his passion. He would taste her tonight, in every way possible, but he would keep her alive, for it would be a waste to be done with her so quickly. That was truly his greatest regret, killing Eri-Hime after a single night of passion. She would have so loved Zheng Luo and they could have kept one another company, but the rice was cooked so Hideo would have to be more careful this time around. He intended to keep Zheng Luo by his side until their hair turned white with old age, which meant he could not be too rough with her on their first night, not if he wanted to enjoy her more than once. Such was life, trials and tribulations, but he was more than confident he had the discipline to keep her alive.

And if not? Well, she was merely a prize to be had, an urge to be sated and nothing more, so nothing of value would really be lost.

Chapter Meme