War. Blood. Slaughter.
These were sights that he, the young emperor of the South Aislan Empire, had grown used to seeing over the past year. At first, he felt scared and repulsed by it, believing that wars and slaughters had no place in history. He believed the deaths of soldiers to be inane and meaningless; their only purpose being to fuel the endless wheels of ambition of some distant despot.
Over time, however, such views have changed. Witnessing the end result of the Siege of Caroxtel City had taught him that the value of a soldier's death lay on in their own lives but in the lives of the ones that they protected.
Living with the Hielanders and experiencing their culture taught him that there was honour and glory in each death; and that men who laid down their lives for a greater purpose deserved the right to be enshrined as 'Warriors.'
There was a reason why 'war' in all its shapes and forms had accompanied humanity ever since its inception. It was not because humans were inherently violent creatures or that they craved blood and death but rather that a 'war' represented a clash in ideologies; a clash in purpose.
Not all wars were honourable. Not all wars were with purpose. Not all wars were fought for the greater good. But!
All wars had their place in history. And history was written by the victors of these wars.
---
He cut and cut and cut and still there remained an endless number of bodies in front of him.
The faces that he saw before he cut them down were all different and yet strangely, the same. It took him a while and many cuts to understand what this familiarity was and in the end, the answer arrived to him: conviction.
These men, though they were his enemies, were filled with conviction no less than that of himself and his men. Like him, these men too fought with everything they had for the sake of a greater purpose.
He realized that this battle wasn't a simple clashing of bodies and steel but a clashing of different ideologies.
He fought to protect his homeland while they fought to seize it. He fought to become the master of his fate while they fought to become masters of him.
Honestly, cutting was not easy. He was starting to get tired. He wanted to put down his blade and take a nice, warm nap. However, he couldn't do so.
Unless he was cut in return.
Shilck! He felt something glide over him and the next thing he knew, a warm feeling suffused over his throat and chest. Strength left his limbs as a strange feeling of release filled his entire body.
Was it over? Did he not have to cut anymore? He did not know. However, his desire to lie down and rest came over him like an unstoppable wave.
He put down his blade and sat on the ground. He saw and heard nothing from his surroundings; he hadn't since some time ago.
He put his hand on the soil and felt it warm to the touch. There was no bed of grass underneath him but the patch of soft soil would make for a comfortable bed. The last of his reservations undone, he laid to rest and looked up at the sky.
Plop! A drop of wetness fell upon his cheek. Just as he moved his fingers to wipe that wetness away, another drop arrived. And another and another and another... endlessly.
It had begun raining.
---
"Charge! Break through the left!!"
"But sire! The enemy cavalry is charging toward us from the right! If we don't deal with them, we will get pincered!"
"Leave the enemy cavalry to General Matthias! We must capture the point ahead at all costs!"
"CANNONBALL! ENEMY CANNONBALL IN THE AIR!!"
Less than a second after that warning, a flaming ball of iron fell squarely in the middle of his squad. He watched in horror as the fiery hunk of metal tore through the bodies of his friends and brothers, leaving a basin-sized hole in their torsos.
He let out a howl of shock and anger but the metal sphere did not care for his feelings. It continued its unstoppable charge, tearing a path through the men of his fellow squads, leaving broken limbs and ruined bodies in its wake.
An indescribable grief tore through him. At that instant, he no longer cared about victory or defeat; achieving or failing his objectives; or returning home to see his wife and newborn child. At this instant, he only sought to slaughter as many of those enemy bastards as he could get his hands on.
"DIE! DIE YOU FOREIGN FREAKS!! DIE YOU DEMONS!!!"
The rain pouring down upon the battlefield intensified.
---
"Cease firing. The rainfall has gotten too heavy. At this rate, we might accidentally hit our own men."
His men quickly answered his orders and the Artillery Squad ceased their activities. The cannons that they used required precise, manual calculations for firing upon a target. With the curtain of rain having grown to the point where it was near-impossible to see ten feet ahead, firing blindly was a risk that he could not take.
Firing at the enemy was good. However, should he accidentally fire at the backs of his own men then that would be a mistake answerable only with his death.
The earth underneath his feet had grown soft and muddy from all the rain. Puddles of varying sizes and depths filled the entirety of the battlefield. Some were filled with rainwater while others were filled with the crimson blood of fallen soldiers.
As he watched the vague silhouettes of the two armies clashing in the distance and heard the sounds of their clamour, he sighed and quietly asked himself.
"What are we even doing here?"
---
The heavy downpour seemed to represent the wrath and fury of the heavens at the sight of this incessant slaughter. The weather, previously predicted to be clear skies with zero chances of rain, had now turned out to be one of the heaviest rainfalls ever recorded in the South Aislan Continent.
The dense symphony of the rain had drowned out all clamours of the battlefield. All artillery firing had also been stopped as the thick curtain of rain made it impossible for the firing squads to get an accurate read on the battlefield.
Even the riflemen had been forced to stop shooting as the latest rifles in their hands drastically increased in chance of misfiring under such weather conditions.
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In the end, it boiled down to a clash of bodies and steel; just like the wars of the past. Men fought against other men, hurled abuses and curses at each other, slit their throats and hacked away at their bodies.
The rain only grew heavier. It seemed as if the heavens could not tolerate this madness and sought to wipe away all traces of it. But alas, the traces of this war ran deeper than the ground that it was fought on.
On this day, a hundred and twenty thousand (120,000) men of the South Aislan Empire faced off against one hundred and eighty thousand (180,000) men of the allied factions of the Heavenly Spirit Empire and the Mu Household.
The clash between the armies began at a quarter past eight in the morning and continued until dusk.
Two hundred and thirty-six thousand (236,000) fell at the end of this battle. Their corpses covered the Plains of Trigo and their blood seeped into the earth and turned it red.
The final victor ended up being the South Aislan Empire. While their enemies possessed both greater numbers and firepower, in terms of sheer strength of heart and desperation, the soldiers of the empire far outperformed their foreign counterparts.
Alexandros Centinni the Twelfth survived the battle and went on to be crowned as the Emperor of a reunited South Aislan Empire, Hegemon of the South Aislan Continent.
After their defeat, the forces of the Mu Household, the Heavenly Spirit Empire, and the Central Commonwealth all issued joint statements admitting their defeat and congratulating the new Hegemon. They withdrew their forces and offered a hand of friendship to the new monarch. This recognition made up for a part of their reparations, and the rest was made up with wealth; something that the empire sorely lacked.
In a surprising twist, the new emperor signed a trade agreement with the Scarlet Demon Organization, offering a continued supply of foodstuff at discounted rates in exchange for an alliance. What was even more surprising was that the Demon Sovereign personally sent a word of agreement, putting an end to all covert ploys and schemes set in place by the other powers. All knew better than to irritate the Demon Sovereign.
The Hielands were recognized by the empire as an independent and sovereign vassal state of the empire. Alexandros publically thanked the Hielanders for their support in the war and promised aid in combating the Wild Beast Society that plagued the Hielands.
Riots and small-scale rebellions occurred for a few months after the South Aislan Empire's victory. However, with the abilities of Prime Minster Tang and the Emperor, these rebellions did not come to fruition. The populace also decided to give the new emperor a chance after discovering that he was different from his tyrannous predecessors; the rule of his late father also came to aid in winning public sentiment.
The Hodgepodge faction kept its promise and was more than happy to enter a business alliance with the empire. As such, the newly received reparations were used to rebuild and restructure the empire to be better than it previously was.
The South Aislan Empire went from being a feudal agro dictatorship and transitioned into a military-industrial complex governed by a cabinet. Just this distinct change in policy revealed how much of an effect the War for Unification had left on the local populace. Of course, the technology secured by Wuzhi for the empire also played a massive part in this change.
The empire thus became an entity that saw military strength as its priority. Its leaders recognized the importance of strength and vaguely knew that the newly earned peace was but merely temporary. The current world was akin to a volcano that was slowly becoming active.
It was only a matter of time before it would explode.
And thus, the curtains on the South Aislan Empire drew to a close.
---
Evening, 17th Day of the Twelfth Month of the Year 735 NCE.
Wuzhi sat drenched upon the bald-faced boulder at his viewpoint. His argent eyes emptily stared at the distant battlefield, absent of attention. A mysterious and peculiar aura surrounded his body making it appear as if he was fused with heaven and earth.
This was the state of 'Enlightenment;' a wondrous state in which practitioners can converse with heaven to seek answers and clarity on their Path.
For most people, 'enlightenment' was something that they went without experiencing for all of their life. Even the most talented of geniuses would only be able to enter 'enlightenment' once or twice in their life. As a fact, any person who could enter a state of 'enlightenment' was considered a genius of the highest order, often being chosen by senior cultivators as their 'Legacy' disciples.
That said, in the case of a 'Star,' the state of 'enlightenment' was nothing special. As chosen children of the heavens, they live blessed lives and were allowed to fuse with heaven and earth every so often.
It was similar for Wuzhi. Halfway through watching the clash between the soldiers of the two armies, he suddenly and spontaneously entered 'enlightenment.'
"The will of one is limited but the will of many can influence the heavens. 'Many' is simply the amalgamation of individual 'ones.' Therefore, by following that logic, should 'one' be equal to 'many' then 'one' will be able to influence the heavens."
"Will…" He released a tired sigh, the light within his eyes shining brighter than ever. A joyous, cheerful smile appeared on his lips as he said, "Who would've thought that my Path would go down this direction?"
Snapping out of his daze, he looked at the distance and noticed that the battle had come to an end. Without any doubt, it was the South Aislan Empire that emerged as the final victors.
Just as he was about to speak words of self-praise, he heard the sound of somebody clapping from behind him. He stiffened.
"Marvelous. To think that I would run across someone who could maintain their 'enlightenment' for hours on end," appreciated a cold voice. "Speak, child. Whose disciple are you?"
Like a marionette, he stiffly stood up from his seat and turned around with his head lowered. He did not know who this person was or how they had managed to sneak up behind him but acutely recognized the danger of his situation.
'Calm down. Even in the worst case scenario, you cannot die; it is not according to heaven's will.' He forced himself to be calm. Just as he was about to introduce himself, the cold voice interrupted.
"Wait. You are… concealed? What a strange technique. I almost fell for it," she added, awe and praise apparent in her voice. "Remove your concealment and let me take a look at your face. I want to remember the face of such an excellent talent."
Wuzhi's heart had gone cold. His back grew damp with cold sweat as his robe stuck to him. In his mind, only a single thought echoed. 'A Master! At least Rank 8 in strength! Is it a Sovereign!?'
Whoever it was, Wuzhi knew that it would not do for him to delay. Thus, he removed the wide-rimmed bamboo hat on his head and dispelled his concealment technique. Performing a perfect bow, he introduced himself.
"This humble scholar is named Wuzhi and hails from the Isilda Continent. As for discipleship, Wuzhi is merely the student of a local, mortal scholar."
Speaking as much, he waited with his head lowered. He did not speak any lies for he knew that such experts usually employed techniques for lie detection. Given his current situation and strength, he could not afford to lie and anger this mysterious expert.
That said, simply because he could not lie did not mean that he was forced to speak the truth either. Truth in parts was still the truth; only it was not the whole truth.
Wuzhi waited and waited and waited, and yet strangely, no reply arrived. Unable to keep his patience, he raised his head slightly to take a glimpse at the mysterious expert.
The sight or more specifically, the person that he saw made his limbs grow cold. An indescribable horror filled his heart and his mind went white; blanketed by fear.
He, who hadn't even flinched with nervousness when he met with the full, unbridled killing intent of a Rank 8 expert, the Mountain King, had now unexpectedly been frozen stiff with soul-piercing fear.
"You…!" A voice choked with emotions spoke. "You are… Yuechen's child! You are… my nephew!!"
With the waterworks bursting from her eyes, Chu Mingxi rushed forward and enveloped Wuzhi in a warm hug, stuffing his face into her abundant bosom. She held him tightly and yet without any strength, as she released all of the pent-up emotions within her heart.
She repeatedly distanced herself to take a look at his face before crying even louder and kissing him on his forehead. She spoke many words of comfort, support, and love, all of which eventually were drowned out by the sound of her emotions.
Alas, Wuzhi heard nor felt anything; the fear that flooded his very being refused to go away.
He was paralyzed by horror.
---
Much time had passed since Chu Mingxi had taken Wuzhi and disappeared. Currently, on the very same mountaintop where the two of them had coincidently run into each other, a shadowy figure appeared and materialized into form.
It was a dark and moonless night and the surroundings were pitch-black with no light to illuminate them. Still, the newly materialized shadow did not seem to be bothered by this darkness as he attentively scanned around.
He repeatedly appeared and disappeared all over the mountaintop, performing strange actions. After a long while, he returned to the initial spot and retrieved a strange item from his inner pocket.
On the silver-coloured object shaped like a portable metal container, he typed.
[PHECDA. TARGET MADE CONTACT WITH EVERFROST. FOLLOW UP REQUIRED]
After sending that message, the shadow waited. Sometime later, the object in his hand vibrated and a string of characters appeared on the small, ribbon-wide screen.
[NOTED. PROCEED WITH SECONDARY DIRECTIVE]
The shadow put away the device and melted back into the darkness of the night. Not a single trace of his appearance or presence was left behind on the mountain.
---