GouJian departed for Sanshu the moment he learned of his disciple’s fate, leaving his holy work for another to finish for the first time in decades. A foolish, emotional response to the loss of his favoured disciple, but such was the price one paid for opening one’s heart. Though not his most zealous or skilled disciple, her charming smile and diplomatic touch opened doors where closed fists and naked blades were turned away. He feared no conflict for the Mother stood by his side, but his adherents were a valuable resource, the precious few capable of bearing the heavy burden of Her most holy of duties and guarding Her flock from the wolves hidden within.
And now his favoured successor was gone to the Mother’s embrace, taken too young by His vile minions.
Their time together was so short, barely a decade since he took her under his wing. When he first laid eyes on her, he saw so much of himself in her. She was a skittish colt too terrified to open her eyes to the truth, an empathetic and compassionate young woman who sought to better the lives of everyone she met. Naive and unfamiliar with the ways of the world, she required a forceful hand to guide her and he’d risked breaking her to do so, but his efforts were not in vain. Beneath his instruction, she flourished unlike any of his other disciples, taking to the Mother’s holy work like a duck to water. Though the other adherents understood the need of their duties, few realized the precarious position of their Order. Universally reviled by all for doing what must be done, his adherents endured trials and tribulations without reward or thanks, but their existence was barely tolerated by those short-sighted fools in power. He feared for the future should one of his uncompromising, hard-nosed disciples take the reins, but what choice did he have? For decades, he’d carried out his sacred duties at the expense of all else, but his time in this world was coming to an end. A new successor must be named or his adherents would fracture and split upon his death.
But this was a matter for another day.
Today, he sought vengeance for his dearly departed disciple.
A month after the death of his disciple, he strode through the gates of Sanshu unaccompanied and unnoticed. Sporting a wild, unkempt beard and tattered, travel-worn robes, his disguise allowed him to blend in with the masses and carry out his search unhindered. Everyone expected him to arrive at the head of his adherents, and oftentimes he would as a show of force, but only a fool warned his enemies in advance. A hotbed of rampant corruption and vile hedonism, were it up to him, Sanshu would have been Purged years ago but his limits precluded him from investigating urban centres. Too risky, the politicians claimed, fearful of losing their extravagant luxuries and decadent comforts, fools one and all.
No matter. So long as presented indisputable proof the Father held sway in Sanshu, then even the Emperor himself would have no choice but to condemn it. The city would burn and he would salt the ashes in his wake, as both warning to the Enemy and tribute to Han BoLao, his more treasured disciple.
Oh you, foolish, flighty, child. Why didn’t you trust Master to protect you? All you had to do was return alive and Master would’ve handled the rest.
Choking on his grief, he moved through the streets in search of the telltale signs of Defiled taint. The surviving adherents painted a grim portrait, of Defiled massing under Yo Ling’s banner while others openly masqueraded as heroic bandit, Guard Captain, or Chief Councilman and almost taking the city through deception and treachery. With so many Defiled exposed, he expected to come across the vile, repugnant stench of the Father’s parasites within minutes of entering Sanshu, but to his surprise, he found nothing amiss. The mood was one of rebirth and renewal as hordes of commoners returned to the city after years of exile even as the nobles fled the city in droves like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
They knew their sins, but so did he. Their time of reckoning would come soon enough.
After annexing more than half the city from the nefarious Council, the Magistrate promised homes to all who worked, causing everyone to be in high spirits as they set about rebuilding their city. On top of land and fair wages, even food was given away freely as Chu Tongzu endeavoured to placate the masses, assuring them Sanshu was free of Defiled and would not face extinction. How absurd, the one-time war-hero was the picture of gluttony, an obese puppet dancing for his masters. Where once the Council pulled his strings, now he danced to Major Yuzhen’s tune, Shing Du Yi’s successor.
Ah yes, the Marshal of the North. Now there was a man worthy of praise, a true Hero of the Empire who stood against corruption and nepotism. How disappointing for old age to muddle his mind so, succumbing to debased desire and appointing a half-beast whore as his successor. How else to explain the Marshal’s actions? Though his holy duties kept him in the Central province, his network stretched to all corners of the Empire, men and women, servants and soldiers, all doing their part to keep the Enemy at bay. He knew of Yuzhen’s wanton ways just as he knew of the depraved practices carried out by Sanshu’s ruling elite, including the ‘heroic’ Magistrate Chu Tongzu’s contemptible deeds.
All the more reason Sanshu should be rife with the Father’s minions and a prime target for cleansing, but no matter how hard he looked, he found no signs of foul play. Where were the frayed nerves, short tempers, and discontented mutters? Where were the hidden insurgents, working to spread fear and despair? Where were the criminals influenced by the Father’s touch to carry out violent murders and openly commit crimes? Where were the crippled soldiers, left to starve in the streets after performing their duties? Where were the unhappy husbands beating their pitiful wives?
All these problems and more were taken care of by the seemingly flawless Chu Tongzu.
Gathering dissidents were scattered and crushed, criminal enterprises raided and ruined, crippled soldiers sheltered and fed, in the weeks following the ‘Battle for Sanshu’, Magistrate Chu Tongzu worked tirelessly to ensure the city’s survival and well being. By all accounts, Sanshu appeared free of the Father’s Taint and were it not for his years of experience and piles of reports detailing Chu Tongzu’s sordid and unethical past, this act might have worked.
If the Enemy were so easily dealt with through hard work and high hopes, then what use was he?
Deep in his heart, he prayed it was true, prayed the Magistrate was a changed man working by the grace of the Mother. It wasn’t a far stretch, for if the Coalition’s plan had worked as intended, Chu Tongzu would have died fighting Yo Ling’s hordes and the Defiled traitor XiaoGong would be Magistrate in his place, crafting a story of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat and emerging as the Hero of Sanshu. Even so, Goujian found it difficult to out his misgivings to rest and decided more drastic measures were needed to ascertain whether Chu Tongzu was hero or traitor.
His successor died to bring him news of this pandemic, so he must investigate thoroughly.
Disappearing into the nearest alley, he emerged a legless, disfigured cripple, his wounds wrapped in filthy rags reeking of rot and infection. A steep price to pay for a man his age, but a debt incurred without second thought. Dragging himself to the nearby market, he found a corner to lay in and presented himself as a target. Cowards and apostates often targeted the weak and crippled with promises of strength and restoration should they accept the Father’s lies. He’d long campaigned for better care of wounded veterans, but his efforts went unsupported as nobles and marshals alike tightened their purse-strings at the thought of contributing towards the greater good.
If Chu Tongzu and Yuzhen were true heroes of the Empire, then he would gladly seek the Mother’s mercy for his wrongful accusations, but a lifetime of scouring the Father’s Taint from the Empire had turned Goujian into a cynical man.
Before long, he was approached by a matronly, broad-shouldered, dark-haired woman wearing an elegant, fur-lined robe. Accompanied by a flock of retainers and guards, she wore the trappings of nobility but with her surly frown and fists resting on her hips gave her away, her gruff demeanour so at odds with her wealthy apparel he marked her as common-born long before she opened her mouth. “Well, ain’t ye the picture of perfect health,” she drawled, almost looking offended by the sight of him. “Can’t have ye sitting out here spoiling folks’ appetites, now can we? Go on, off with him now.”
Two of her guards stepped forward and lifted him into a litter, ignoring his muttered pleas to be left alone. “Calm yourself grandfather,” one guard said, his voice gruff but gentle. “Don’t you mind her brusque manners, she might be common born like us but Lady Sovanna is the Magistrate’s betrothed. I’m surprised someone in your condition went unnoticed for so long, but you’re in safe hands now.”
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Hmph. Defiled insurgents masquerading as charitable nobles no doubt, here to recruit him to their cause.
Former sergeant turned interim Guard Captain Sovanna, a woman wholly unqualified for the role. In all likelihood, she was the first person in the history of the Empire to hold the rank of Guard Captain while lacking even a Spiritual Weapon, not to mention an Aura or the ability to demonstrate Purity. Now she was betrothed to the Magistrate, how fortunate for her. Perhaps Tongzu strove to do the Mother’s work while this harlot undermined his efforts from his side, a temptress sent by the Enemy to mislead him. Then again, though she was a handsome woman, not even a blind man could mistake her for a city-destroying beauty, lacking in both grace and manners to say nothing of her burly form and grating voice.
The litter brought him to a hospice where he spent months ‘recovering’ from his injuries. Most of his care was mundane in nature, though a Healer was sent to clear up a particularly nasty infection. Had he not seen it for himself, he would never have believed it. Healers were notoriously prideful and for good reason. Having dedicated years to its study, he understood how difficult it was to master the skills required to be a Healer. The human body naturally rejected foreign Chi, the Mother’s defence against having Her creations tampered with, and to overcome the body’s defences took decades of practice. What’s more, each effort consumed immense amounts of Chi and mental fortitude and Goujian’s infection was serious enough to exhaust an above-average Healer, a test of Chu Tongzu’s dedication to the cause.
A test the Magistrate passed effortlessly.
Day after day, he laid in wait, expecting a heretic to arrive with false promises to tempt him to the Father’s side, but he was sorely disappointed. They fed, washed, and cared for him, but never once was he approached by apostates or did he overhear dogmatic preaching, only the same droll day in and day out of how Sanshu was on the mend under the Mother-blessed Tongzu’s guidance. Though he took no pleasure in his duties, Goujian couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Could BoLao have been mistaken? Was Sanshu free of Defiled Taint? First-hand knowledge of the Enemy told him this was an impossibility as heretics and apostates were a plague which could only be cured through blood and fire, yet here Sanshu stood contrary to those beliefs.
A cause for celebration or worry? Had the Enemy truly been defeated here or were they too adept at hiding for him to uncover?
After months of fruitless searching, he summoned his adherents from the shadows on the eve of the new year and ordered them to bring him away, leaving matters in Sanshu for another day. Unable to find the proof he so desired, he rode a carriage bound for the Wall and regenerated his legs before making plans to investigate the cause of his successor’s downfall.
Falling Rain, the Undying Savage.
A vicious, immoral young man whose feats defied logic, his successor was convinced the boy was Defiled in spite of his ability to demonstrate Purity, which was disturbing, to say the least. The boy certainly fit the description of a Defiled warrior, a lusty, bloodthirsty young barbarian who heralded from an isolated tribal village, but BoLao’s own message described Rain as an intelligent, talented young man, capable of twisting her words against her. Goujian sensed the conflict in his successor’s writing, the poor girl so desperate to save the innocent, but as the saying went, spare the rod and spoil the child. All it took was one Defiled abomination to infect a village, and hidden in the inaccessible mountains so close to the Bridge, the Bekhai were undoubtedly prime targets for the Father’s attentions.
If the Defiled were able to fake Purity, then the repercussions were far reaching. No person in the Empire would be beyond suspect, not even himself. If news of this broke out, he might find himself faced with the full wrath of the Emperor, a staggering victory for the Enemy. His people were the last line of defence against the Father, cleansing his Taint before it could take root in the Empire, and the Empire could not afford their loss.
In light of this, though he loved his disciple like a daughter, he prayed she was wrong.
For if not, then the Empire was doomed.
Arriving at the Wall, he once again entered in disguise, ordering his adherents to trickle in as the days passed. At first glance, Falling Rain seemed like a paragon of virtue, spending a fortune feeding the poor, sheltering orphans, and freeing slaves. Goujian dined at the school several days in a row, taking solace in the cheery atmosphere and smiling faces as he ate spiced meat and salted broth, things he never tasted until a man grown. He Watched as Falling Rain went about his days like a dedicated, forthright young man. Rain cooked breakfast for his loved ones, trained with his warriors, sparred with his peers, and played with his pets, a kind, affectionate young man with no discernible flaws or vices.
There were a few areas of concern, but nothing worth acting on. For example, Rain’s source of wealth was a mystery, but a quick look into the Bekhai was enough to convince Goujian that Rain was being backed by their vast natural resources. Then there was Dastan Zhandos, former member of the Coalition worked at Rain’s side, but the young man showed no signs of Defiled Taint, a calm, collected warrior wholly focused on the Martial Path. Were Goujian to bring news of young Dastan home, he’d be laughed out onto the streets as it was common knowledge Dastan could also demonstrate Purity and even recently joined the Empire’s Roster of Experts.
Most surprising was Rain’s association with the Society youths. To be friends with his disciple’s cousin and murderer Han BoShui wasn’t too surprising, but for Situ Jia Zian to amicably spar with the warrior who defeated and humiliated him reeked of the Father’s influence. It made sense if these youths had all been Tainted and were now working as His agents in the Empire. How deep the corruption might spread if these prominent youths were Tainted? It explained why the Defiled horde withdrew whilst on the cusp of victory, the province was already theirs, they only needed time for Falling Rain and his cronies to deliver it to them.
Thus Goujian put in motion a plan to kidnap the young hero and steal him away for interrogation. If the Undying Savage turned out to be Defiled, then it was proof positive of the Father’s deep roots in the North and Goujian would bring his findings to the Emperor himself. If not, then the Empire would lose a young hero in return for peace of mind, a small price to pay in the long run.
Before taking action, he left a large donation at the school, praying someone would continue the good work here. A hot meal didn’t seem like much to the nobility, but to a man who knew hunger every day of his childhood, Goujian understood the true value of this school.
Sitting on the ground floor of a tea-house, he awaited Falling Rain’s arrival, the young hero on his way with his hare-eared betrothed and two goat-horned children in tow. Sipping his tea, Goujian watched as the amber-eyed young man trundled through the crowd with a bear on his back and two children in his arms, smiling without a care in the world. Defiled or not, this was the man responsible for BoLao’s death, so it vexed Goujian to see the boy smiling so. His emotions must have gotten the better of him because the boy seemed alerted to his presence, amber eyes swivelling left and right in search the unseen threat.
If not Defiled, then Falling Rain was a genius seen once a millennia but Goujian trusted BoLao’s judgment enough to take the risk. Withdrawing his Watch, he poured another cup of tea and waited, wagging his eyebrows at a precocious young child enjoying her snack with relish. Children were the future of the Empire but so easily brought astray. He prayed with all his heart he was wrong, that BoLao was wrong, so these sweet children and moral, upright citizens of the Empire might continue their existence here in the North.
Because if he was right, then the entire Province must be cleansed, in blood and in fire.
When his adherent arrived to escort Rain away, Goujian cursed the man for his poor acting. Any blind fool could see he was more warrior than merchant, but thankfully Rain didn’t notice. Keeping his emotions in check, he Watched Rain proceed to the storefront to inspect his slaves, only to witness his adherents make a mess of things as the clumsy assailant missed his unsuspecting target, then died in a miserable manner. So hard to find good help so far North, but this was what he had to work with. There were too many experts here at the Bridge, his other adherents already under watch. Unable to risk exposure, he ordered the surviving adherent to wound the boy and die to make it look like a failed kidnapping/assassination attempt.
And when Rain’s Demonic Aura erupted out, Goujian knew his Disciple was right.
Falling Rain was Defiled.
The North was lost.
He considered several angles of attack, including snatching Rain away using the hare-girl and children as leverage, but his instincts warned him from acting out of line. This was the Northern Bridge, as far from his sphere of influence as one could get and still be in the Empire. No sense acting on impulse and risking discovery by the multitude of experts. Now that he knew, he could slowly gather evidence and -
Steely fingers clamped down on his neck and Goujian froze in surprise. An expert, one capable of sneaking up on him without notice? Yesterday, he would have scoffed at the notion, but here they were. Keeping calm, he folded his hands on the table and Sent, “An impressive feat to mask your presence before the Confessor,” he Sent, hoping to rattle the expert with his title. “Might I have the honour of knowing this expert’s name?”
Silence and a tightened grip were his only answers, so he abandoned all thoughts of intimidation. Around them, the tea-house guests continued eating and drinking in merriment, wholly ignorant of the peak expert standing in their midst. For the next ten minutes, Goujian sat in uneasy silence as the hare-eared girl and goat-horned children finished their desserts on the empty second floor. Only after they strolled out the door with their pets did the expert’s grip loosen ever so slightly, but still not enough for Goujian to act. “Hmph. I know not who you are or why you are here,” the expert Sent, his voice grim and unyielding, “but you reek of blood and suffering. The stench offends me. In accordance with the treaties, remove yourself or be removed. This is your first and final warning.”
Ah. So he was a Territory Lord, an Ancestral Beast, which explained his skill. No point mentioning this was an Imperial fortress, these creatures weren’t ones to quibble over niceties. “This one has offended Great One out of ignorance and offers his apologies. Might I inquire where Great One’s territory ends?”
“Where my territory ends is unimportant. Remove yourself and your companions from the North. I’ll not risk scenting you on the wind.”
With that, the grip on Goujian’s neck loosened and the expert disappeared. Wasting no time, Goujian paid his bill and left. Disappearing into the shadows, he ordered his adherents out of the North before leaping into the air and racing across the sky in his haste to leave. Cursing his poor luck, the kilometres zipped by as he wasted prodigious amounts of Chi and stamina on this arduous effort, but discretion was the better part of valour. How he’d offended the Territory Lord was a mystery. Perhaps it was the father of the hare-girl or the goat-children, but Falling Rain was out of his reach so long as he remained in the North. Although a Territory Lord technically couldn’t exile him from the Northern province, if the Ancestral Beast killed him on a whim, the Emperor wouldn’t lose sleep over Goujian’s death.
If anything, the Emperor might send the Ancestral Beast a gift of thanks.
Chapter Meme