It was odd, Huang Zixin thought as he gazed out upon the early morning and the night watch changed shifts with the day, how humans managed to doggedly build and live where they clearly did not belong. After he'd acknowledged his soldiers with a quick routine inspection, he turned his attention to his stationary post on the battlement constructed above the gate. The rampart clung precariously to the wall, an overhang casting a heavy shadow as a small mercy to the guards stationed below. Yet, he never felt nervous standing upon it. Long before he was ever born, Qi had been used to construct the walls including the overhang which had murder holes in which boiling oil would be poured down upon invaders if the rain of arrows didn't deter.

Whoever raised these walls had kept the limits of mortal men in mind. He gave an offhand glance to the stone floor under his feet where not a seam or line of mortar showed and corrected himself. Grown was more appropriate and it could not have been easy to do so.

Stubborn, they all were. Humans.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Not the wall or the buildings but the sheer willful intent it took to make this into being. He knew the empire and even Baochun, Ever-Reach City, didn't have nor require defenses like this within their borders. His mind worried at it like a dust rat at a piece of dropped travel bread.

He had a lot of time to think about it as well because he was the garrison commander and thus was paid to do two things: Follow orders and think about how to follow them. Though he was paid to think about how to defend Oasis Point, there was only so much pondering and preparation one could manage.

As the largest settlement in the Ever-Reaching Steppe, it was his job to make sure the cultivators of the White Oasis never needed to lower themselves with such base irritations, their words, as defending their home from anything less than a spirit beast.

Movement to his left let him know a soldier arrived by his elbow as was protocol. Only Zixin's superiors were allowed to approach him to his right, a tradition based in the basic fact one couldn't draw a sword or swing a pike properly without giving someone more than ample warning. Though in his case, since his every superior was a cultivator the least of whom could move faster than the eye could follow, the tradition was more a formality than a practical concern. The hours passed. He rested with a cup of tea and soon was back at his post.

Barely a half hour passed before, he was back to pondering humans again.

"Commander Huang," the soldier said, bowing low showing her short-cropped hair as it dangled from under the iron helm. "A message from the White Oasis."

Zixin took the proffered scroll from his daughter, acknowledging her with a nod. "Report."

"All is quiet, Commander. No sign of any disturbances or threats."

"Very well. Dismissed." As the soldier saluted and marched away to her other duties, Zixin allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Another uneventful night had passed outside, and the cultivators of the White Oasis could continue their pursuits unhindered.

Half turned as he was, he made out the sapphire jewel that was the lake White Oasis was built around, its glass-like waters glimmering in the light of the noon sun. And across those waters was the pale white-blue shape of the White Oasis compound. He examined the scroll in his hand and the jade seal glared at him from the rolled paper. His heart stuttered, the emblem of a water drop in the center warning him it came directly from the sect leader. He suspected what was inside, but his thumb still trembled as he cracked the seal and unrolled the message.

His eyes scanned the elegant calligraphy, and he let out a breath.

"Any cultivators that demand entry must be verified and shown to the compound," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "Any wearing the Red Sand Sect's colors are to be immediately detained if they are mortal." Executed, if they are not, was left unwritten. An absurd command if it wasn't for-

"Hhhhuuuuaaannnggg, please tell me the old man has relieved me of this monotonous task." The voice, a melodic blend of water flowing into a cup and a sneer only barely suppressed, interrupted the commander's focus. It seemed to dance effortlessly from the figure sprawled on a cushioned mat in the corner, a person so easily overlooked yet now commanding attention without effort.

Zixin's eyes landed on luxuriating form of Qin Yuanjun, dressed in his silken blue robes and sipping some pungently sweet drink from a crystal glass in one hand while idly rolling what the man knew weren't marbles in the palm of the other.

Zixin carefully rolled the scroll back up, tucking it into his armor. He turned to face Yuanjun fully, inclining his head respectfully. "I'm afraid not, Master Qin. The sect leader has given explicit instructions regarding entry protocols, especially concerning any from the Red Sand Sect."

Yuanjun let out an exaggerated sigh, setting down his glass with a clink. "Of course he did. The old man is paranoid as ever." He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, the spheres vanishing into his sleeve. "And let me guess, I'm still stuck babysitting you and the others?" It wasn't a question and it wasn't quiet either. The commander didn't miss how every guard within earshot were now white-knuckling their pikes.

Zixin kept his expression neutral, though it took effort. "Your presence here is vital, Young Master Qin. The sect leader entrusts the safety of Oasis Point to you."

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of my glorious purpose," Yuanjun waved a dismissive hand. "Guarding your sandy hovel from the scary desert bogeymen. What an honor indeed."

The young master sauntered over to the rampart's edge, peering out at the vast expanse of the Ever-Reaching Steppe with the air of beleaguered snake.

Qin Yuanjun was less a fountain of joy and more a well-spring of irritation. Ever since he was assigned here, the young master of the White Oasis sect was irreverent, disrespectful, and all around went out of his way to grate on his nerves. Not just his, but his soldiers as well. Whenever he put on the pageantry of respect, his tone made it obvious that he couldn't care less about addressing anyone by their rank, treating it with the same level of importance as he would a nearby wall.

It amazed Zixin how such a man could be so… pig ignorant with all the evidence before him.

While he himself was ignorant of cultivator politics, even he understood the sect elder would never arbitrarily put the young master here. In fact, with the sheer number of cultivators from other sects in the Steppe being invited in, flying in the face of all previous tensions… but excluding Red Sand…

The commander never spent time in the bars his men did but the rumors had reached his ears none the less. The few mortal survivors who'd made it in before Zixin was ordered to close the gates as trade from the caravans dried up spoke of cultivators fighting alongside the demons. A rumor that his orders all but outright sat him down at told him the rumors were true and who it was.

But that was not what was on his mind. No, the fact he was still worried was. Huang Zixin leaned on the rampart's stone wall, stroking his beard, the cool surface a stark contrast to the rising heat of the day as he tried to process it. His masters managed to convince one of the sects to work with them, a great advantage certainly but…

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He thought.

He thought about human stubbornness again. While it was something which had been on his mind ever since his conversion, with the great plan finally in motion he found himself often reminded again and again why the dominion of his kind was turned aside so long ago.

It was a question those above never deigned to ask. A problem he discovered the answer to through his 37 years of his 'life' and it was writ large before him now.

As he stood up on the crenellated eastern wall with his back ramrod straight, he gazed upon the dozens and dozens of encampments, tents, and covered dugouts which covered the space outside the small city. The people here were a hardy bunch, eking out a living in a place that seemed determined to snuff out their existence at every turn. No, not just that. The survivors trekked here of all places and were rebuilding what they could of their lives as demons were so clearly closing in.

Only a few weeks ago, this part of Oasis's Heel beyond the walls were empty, save for the low grasses, shrubs, and thin trees which scraped out a stubborn survival.

Huang Zixin sniffed readjusting the ridiculousness of those last two words. Plants were just life, no different than animals, following steps and paths for the greater purpose of serving a function.

No different than himself. That purpose being espionage, sabotage, and eventually, once these walls fell, consumption back into the whole.

But "Stubborn Survival" were words that seemed to be carved into the very soul of human beings. That made something flicker in his chest. It was quite possible something was wrong with him. He didn't find that idea as disturbing as he suspected he should. As far as he knew, he was the only one of his kind around, a being created by those above to live amongst the prey, act like prey, and become prey once the task was done.

A distant rumble of thunder seemed to want to add an extra layer of foreboding to Zixin's troubled thoughts.

There were most likely 'problems' which could cause conflict within him his masters couldn't predict, errors unnatural to his already unnatural self. He rolled the tightness building between his shoulders lose with a shrug. Maybe he should mention it when the time came surely those above would… want… to…

Huang Zixin blinked, attention refocusing from the middle distance as he realized the thunder was still going. In fact, now he was paying attention the man wasn't quite sure there'd even been a pause to break up the sound.

His gray eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon beyond the encampments as something glimmered in the distance, the deep low rumbling rising into a droning growl as it approached.

Qin Yuanjun straightened beside him, suddenly alert in a way the commander had yet to see from him this entire time. "Do you hear that, Commander Huang?" Qin Yuanjun's voice had lost its usual mocking edge, replaced by childish excitement. His eyes were fixed on the distant glimmer, hand unconsciously rolling the blue orbs in his fingers as he smiled.

Couldn't find this nearly half as exciting as he seemed to. Instead, Zixin nodded grimly, the droning growl growing louder by the second. "I do, Young Master Qin. And I don't like it one bit." He turned to the nearest guard, barking out orders. "Sound the alarm! All soldiers to their posts, now!"

The guard saluted hastily and rushed off, the clanging of warning bells soon echoing across Oasis Point. As the clarion call of the warning bells rang out, Zixin's thoughts raced. An attack? Now of all times? Surely, his masters would've given some warning…

Soldiers scrambled to their positions along the walls, weapons at the ready. The bells also had an effect on the encampment just outside the wall. Like a stone dropped into water, confusion brought activity to a halt as people wondered what exactly was going on. Then the ripple worked its way from the rear back to the front, first with people pointing at the glimmer then an eruption of voices rising in a cacophony of panic.

Refugees grabbed what meager possessions they could carry and rushed towards the gates, desperate for the safety of the city walls. Mothers clutched crying children to their chests, men shouldered packs laden with supplies, the elderly hobbled as fast as they could, all driven by the primal fear of what was approaching.

Zixin felt himself gritting his teeth as he watched the chaos below. The gates needed to remain sealed, the cultivator's orders were clear and the less hands able to be put to White Oasis's defense in any way served the great plan.

But the sight of terrified innocents pleading for fluttered something deep within him, an instinct that felt fundamentally off despite his inhuman nature. Deciding not to think on it too long, choosing to squint to try and make details through the haze.

The droning growl intensified, the glimmering shape on the horizon resolving into the tip of a massive cloud of dust kicked up by countless galloping hooves.

"What under the heavens…?" The commander turned to the young master, surprised to hear him utter astonishment. Qin Yuanjun didn't look eager anymore, simply confused his wolfish features pinched into a frown.

As the dust cloud drew closer, Zixin could make out the shapes within… "Wuh… what is that?" He wasn't sure it was a beast, spirit or no, and it wasn't a demon, or the young master wouldn't be as perplexed as he was.

Whatever it was, it seemed to be tearing at them with incredible speed… towing trade sledges behind it.

The creature was closing in fast, its bounding leaps eating up the distance. Zixin could make out figures on…in the beast? A woman and a man…

"Hold…" Zixin said, his hand raised.

His jaw dropped as the metallic contraption, adorned with red and glittering accents, roared towards the wall. The refugees scrambled in terror, creating a path like a wave parting in the sea. The carriage-like machine screeched to a stop just inches from the panicked crowd, the sledges sliding to an easy stop behind it. The rumbling drone died and in the tense silence that followed its side opened, a door, and a figure stepped out, waving wildly and grinning from ear to ear.

"Can we come in?" the figure shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos he caused. "This is the Firebird Caravan, here to trade."

Zixin squinted, taking in the eccentric appearance of the man. His robes were a vibrant blend of red and gold, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. His hair was a wild mane of red, standing every which way. But what caught Zixin's attention were the man's ears—pointed and feline, twitching slightly as if picking up every sound in the vicinity.

Zixin's grip on his spear tightened, his brow furrowing in confusion. This was no ordinary cultivator. In fact, he wasn't sure what this man was. He turned to Qin Yuanjun, who stood beside him, his usual smirk replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. An unfriendly curiosity.

"Young Master Qin," Zixin began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "Do you know anything about this... individual?"

Qin Yuanjun's eyes narrowed as he studied the figure below. "I've never seen anything like him," he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur. "But he's no demon. That much is certain."

Zixin turned his attention back to the strange man, who was now conversing with the refugees. Their fear seemed to dissipate in his presence, replaced by a sense of bewilderment. Zixin couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could see the man's exaggerated gestures, his animated expressions. Then he caught noticed of what exactly the young master was looking at… or rather who that troublesome gaze was aimed at.

The woman the commander almost forgot he'd seen stumbled from the other side, her armor and weapon standing her out as a cultivator.

Zixin's gaze flicked back to the man, his mind racing. This was uncharted territory. He had orders, yes, but this... this was something else entirely. But if this was a supplied caravan then, he couldn't really find the excuse to not let them in. He took a deep breath, his decision made.

"Open the gates," he commanded, his voice firm. "Let them in. Clear the crowd first."

Qin Yuanjun already hopped the wall and was drifting down.

"Faster," he said to the soldier. "In case a fight breaks out."

Qin Yuanjun landed gracefully in front of the strange carriage, his blue robes fluttering around him. The refugees parted hastily, creating a wide berth around the young cultivator. Yuanjun's eyes were fixed on the woman who had emerged from the other side of the vehicle, his smile sharp and assessing.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Yuanjun drawled, sauntering closer. The woman was clad in bronze armor that glittered almost as much as the… his eyes glanced over to the thing she arrived in. With her long black hair tied back in a high, tight ponytail she carried herself with the poise and grace of a seasoned warrior, her eyes scanning him with a sharp intensity. "A fierce lady cultivator, hmm? And what sect do you hail from, my dear?"

The woman met his gaze steadily, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "I am Zi Nuan," she stated, her voice calm but firm. "We come in peace, seeking trade and respite within Oasis Point."

Yuanjun circled her, appraising her form. He was about to comment, politely, she hadn't told him her sect when he blinked and had to restrain himself from startling as the red headed cultivator replaced Zi Nuan. "And I'm Sè Piān! Tell me, do you have any seashells I could buy?"

For a moment, the young master of White Oasis wondered if he could get away with declaring this Sè Piān Red Sand Sect just to get him out the way. His eyes fell back on Zi Nuan and he threw that idea away. If he did, she'd need to be taken care of too and that would be such a shame.

Yuanjun blinked again as what he was just asked hit him, momentarily taken aback by Sè Piān's sudden appearance and bizarre question. He quickly regained his composure, his smile turning condescending. "Seashells? In the middle of the desert? You're a strange one, aren't you?"

He glanced back at Zi Nuan, his interest in her still piqued. "As for you, my dear, I'm afraid I must insist on knowing your sect affiliation. We can't just let any cultivator waltz into Oasis Point, now can we?"

Zi Nuan's grip on her sword tightened almost imperceptibly. "We are not affiliated with any sect," she said evenly. "We are independent traders, seeking only to conduct business and move on."

"Independent cultivators? How... unusual." Yuanjun's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of encountering your sect before. The Firebird Caravan, was it?"

"Oh, that's not a sect. It's a caravan." Sè Piān clarified cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere.

"A trading caravan led by cultivators? How... quaint."

"But we're not the one's in charge. And since the guy up there is opening the doors, I'm guessin' you aren't either. Ssssoooooo… Toodles."

The 'You dare' was just forming on his lips by the time the cultivator grabbed Zi Nuan, got in the machine, and zoomed through the barely open doors.