“Elder Qian Shi, when you assured me that Bu Dong Rushan’s defense was invincible, I believe we may have gotten our definitions mixed up. You see, I had assumed that meant that he wouldn’t be slain by a child who has lived less than three decades.”

Yan De was fuming. He had a reputation for his temper, which his so-called peers liked to mock him for, but they did not realize how their mockery betrayed them. All cultivators knew how much empowering the soul enflamed one’s passions, and tempering those passions was a crucial part of their craft. Yan De was on the edge of divinity—second only to the God-Emperor. His temper was not a result of poor discipline, it was simply a product of how much greater he was than the fools who thought themselves his equal.

“Undefeated, elder.”

His eyebrow twitched at Qian Shi’s response, and he grit his teeth as he turned towards the man slowly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I did not say that Bu Dong Rushan could not be defeated. Only that he never has been before.”

“Then how, pray tell, did this happen?”

Twice now. Two major defeats and not a single equivalent victory. It was absolutely shameful, and Yan De suspected that Qian Shi and Sun Quan were enjoying his failure. Elder Qian Shi gave him a long, flat look.

“It would appear that his opponent was stronger, Elder.”

Yan De kicked over a table, scattering maps, models, and figures across the floor of his command tent.

“Do you think this is a joke, Qian Shi?!”

The Austere Mountain’s grandmaster did not budge.

“Of course not. The Great Austere Mountain has lost its strongest warrior. If anything, I have more of a right to anger than you do.”

Sun Quan sighed and stepped forward.

“With respect, we’ve long known of An Eui’s ability to wield the element of Destruction. Given the late elder’s reputation for ultimate defense, perhaps it would have been prudent to prepare an ambush in anticipation of her intervention.”

Yan De hissed through gritted teeth.

“An excellent recommendation, Sun Quan—which might have been better placed before she assassinated him!”

“I assumed you had a plan beyond my meager understanding.”

If only the God-Emperor could save him from ‘advisors’ like Sun Quan and Qian Shi. Those two would sooner stab him in the back themselves than give more than the barest token of support.

“Enough. The Heavenly Empire will not allow this insult to stand. Let us discuss how we will enact our divine vengeance.”

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Gao Yuanjun stared sullenly into his rations, his appetite failing him. After Empress Yoshika slew Bu Dong Rushan, the army broke. They could barely even defend themselves as the demons swept through them. Gao remembered his role and did his best to lead the retreat, but even then the only reason he still lived was because Empress Yoshika had backed off immediately after defeating the elder.

Not everyone made it. The demons would have annihilated them if they hadn’t been driven off by another allied xiantian arriving to support them. Gao couldn’t even remember who—he’d been too focused on fleeing.

It shamed him, but even the sight of another elder did nothing to raise morale—not after what they’d witnessed. Not after what they’d lost.

“Shun is dead, isn’t he, senior brother?”

Gao tried not to grimace as he eyed Wen You—the least he could do is remember the full names of his friends.

“Not necessarily—the empress has a reputation for mercy. Perhaps—”

“Those were demons, Gao! You saw their leader! She was grinning—laughing, as she slaughtered our brethren with that toxic touch of hers.”

And yet, Gao could not remember seeing much blood shed—aside from that of the elder. He didn’t have the heart to argue, though. It was shameful enough to have lost without enemy casualties, but if none of their own had died? Somehow that almost made it worse.

“They’ll pay. The great sects will not take the loss of one of our elders lightly. Take solace in that, brother. We’ll have our vengeance yet.”

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It felt like a strange dream. As though any moment he would wake up back on that battlefield, in a pool of his own blood and realize that he was dying. Or perhaps it would be more peaceful, and the dream would just end without giving him time to realize it.

What else could explain what Shun Song was seeing? Kucheon’s prisoner camp wasn’t bad, not that Shun had ever been a prisoner before. He and the others had been stripped of any weapons or artifacts, then sent to a rather large, open space with rows and rows of hastily constructed shelters with simple but comfortable beds and cushioned seating for meditation. The outdoor area was sealed in by a barrier formation which kept them in, protected them from the elements, and gave them ample space to move around and socialize under the open sky.

There was a mess area with food better than anything Shun had in the army—better than most of the food he’d had even back home! It was all so incredible. Cultivators weren’t usually taken as prisoners at all—it was too dangerous. Rogues and criminals were hunted down and executed. It was different in war, of course—but so many?

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On top of that, despite the fact that they did not need to eat or sleep, they were granted those luxuries—even well accommodated! There was nothing suppressing them beyond the barrier preventing their escape, and their honor as prisoners of war.

It was almost too trusting. Surely someone would try to escape, and if they kept so many prisoners in one place, how was that any different from allowing the enemy army within their own gates? It shamed him to admit it, but Shun wouldn’t have been so merciful. He would not trust the word of someone like him—but Empress Yoshika did. They made the prisoners swear an oath that their part in the war had ended and then...left them alone. Trusted them.

Yet the most jarring thing of all? That would be the one sitting right across from him, happily taking her meal without a care in the world.

Shun couldn’t stop staring at Empress Yoshika. He was too stunned to even be afraid. She was just sitting there, without a menacing bone in her body. Cheerful, casual, and so...small?

She was tiny! The empress had felt so massive on the battlefield, flashing from one place to another with the fury of a storm around her. Her presence had been a match for even Elder Bu Dong Rushan—more than a match. But to see her in person? She was just...a girl. Apparently a very hungry one.

“You’re allowed to ask, you know.”

He was startled when she spoke to him. Ask? Ask what? He had so many questions that he didn’t know where to begin.

“Is your domain empowered by food?”

She choked on her food, laughing, and Shun briefly had the completely inane concern that he’d somehow be culpable for her death as she took a sip of some sweet-smelling wine to wash it down.

“Oh, that was a good one. You’re funny! No, I just like to snack. It’s...well, call it a habit, I guess.”

He hadn’t really meant it as a joke, though he felt a little bit silly in hindsight. This was so surreal.

“Why are you here?”

“To defend my people. I don’t have any ill will towards Qin—in fact, I was really impressed by the people there, during my travels. But I can’t stand idle and let those under my protection be trampled for the glory of the great sects.”

Shun blinked.

“I meant at this table? Talking to me? Surely I’m not so important as to warrant special attention.”

He looked around—everyone had given them a wide berth, so it was just between him and Empress Yoshika. She shrugged dismissively.

“Not really, but the answer is the same. I’m here to protect my people, and part of that is showing your people that we’re not monsters. I didn’t really choose you, in particular, you just happened to be here when I was.”

“You’ve done this before?”

She nodded as she savored some sort of crispy fried treat, her tail swaying happily behind her.

“Mhm! You’re the first one to actually talk to me, though. Most of you just run away or pretend I’m not here.”

“That does seem like the normal thing to do in the face of the enemy’s commander-in-chief. Maybe I’m the weird one.”

Empress Yoshika giggled, and it reminded Shun of his little sister. How could she be the same person he’d seen on the battlefield that day?

“Maybe! If so, I’m glad. My side thinks this is a waste of time too, but I think it’s important. We need to remember that we’re all people.”

“Senior Gao said something similar. Though I think he meant it as a way to avoid underestimating our foes in battle. He was the one to remind me that beastkin are not animals.”

“Huh. Sounds like a wise man. Though we’re not ‘beastkin,’ that’s a misnomer. Actually, it might fit for fiends, though I’d still feel bad using it since I’ve mostly only heard the term as a pejorative.”

Shun swallowed nervously, then took a sip of his own wine to ease his nerves. He still hadn’t touched his food.

“Pardon me, then—what should I call you?”

“Humans. People, just like you. If you must distinguish between us, then ‘half-spirit’ is the proper term. Though if it’s just me, then you can call me Lee Jia.”

He hesitated again. She was so disarming—was it her domain? Some kind of spell? Or perhaps she was just that charming.

“Forgive me my rudeness, Miss Lee—er, Your Majesty? I am Shun Song. I thought your name was Yoshika.”

“It is—but that’s the name for all of us together. If it’s just me, then I’m Lee Jia. The other one you saw before is An Eui—my wife.”

This time it was Shun’s turn to choke, though he thankfully hadn’t been chewing on any food. Marriage between two women?! Scandalous. Yet somehow the question on his mind was instead—

“Aren’t you both...you?”

Lee Jia chuckled.

“Yes and no. It’s a long story, and maybe a little too personal for a new acquaintance.”

“Of course.”

Shun had nearly forgotten that he was a prisoner, and she was his captor. He couldn’t find anything to say, so he dug into his meal as the silence stretched between them.

That was the first time Shun Song met Yoshika.

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In their second encounter, Gao almost had to physically restrain Wen from breaking ranks to challenge the Swordswoman himself.

He’d learned their names by now, but as the battles on the front grew more fierce, and the empire’s xiantian presence kept forcing more appearances, Gao and the rest of the army had come to know Empress Yoshika’s forms by their own titles.

The first one was the Furious Storm, speculated to be the living representation of Empress Yoshika’s rage. She was swift, brutal, and impossible to pin down. The Furious Storm was a constant threat, appearing in an instant to sow chaos and destruction through their ranks, then disappearing just as quickly.

The Swordswoman was not the one who had slain Bu Dong Rushan. She was a leader, and though she stood at the front of her armies it was unmistakably the armies that were the greatest threat when she appeared. Those under her command fought without restraint, their steps light and their blows heavy, while the army opposing her felt as though they were marching through a bog.

She was still dangerous herself, but she reminded Gao of the stories he’d heard about Ienaga Yumi. Swift and surgical—unlike the Storm, she fought only one foe at a time, cutting them down quickly and efficiently. Officers quaked in fear of her name.

The Slayer of Mountains was the title given to Bu Dong Rushan’s killer—to honor his sacrifice. She had not appeared again, but Gao knew that when she did, it would be to herald the death of another great elder. If the Storm was her fury, and the Swordswoman was her duty, then the Slayer was simply death. Cold and unfeeling—a grim reminder that even ageless immortals could not escape their end.

Yet it was not the Slayer of Mountains that Gao feared most, nor either of the other two. The worst they could do was kill him, and despite meeting them twice, he had managed to escape death or imprisonment.

No, the one he feared most was the one they called the Fox Princess. A figure from legends. A fairy tale that mothers told their children to scare them into good behavior—not that it ever worked. But she was real, and she lived, and she was more dangerous than all of the Empress’ other forms combined.

It was her who had taken the frontier city of Kucheon from the empire in the first place, her who had moved the great sects to war, knowing how great her potential for destruction was. It was her fault Shun was gone, and their sect was disgraced.

Gao hoped he would be there when Yan De brought her to justice. But until then, he fought to create that opportunity. He and his brothers bled for the glory of the arrogant lord of the north. He resented that, but he could tolerate it—so long as Yan De could avenge Elder Rushan and Junior Shun. Nothing could bring his fallen brothers back, but Gao could settle for the next best thing.

Vengeance.