As the golden sun dips low and sets the sky alight with streaks of orange and red, our merchant ships are busy seeking safe harbour on sandy white beaches. Grand and inspiring as they are, the flat-bottomed coastal vessels still rely on human eyes for navigation. Not even a Martial Warrior’s night vision is enough to keep us from running afoul of rocks and reefs or drifting off-course into the deadly deep waters of the Azure Sea. While we could make better time sailing non-stop, it’s far too dangerous to risk the lives of thousands of sailors and soldiers and even though it ruins the romance of sailing beneath the stars, I’m relieved we’re stopping each night. Not only am I in no rush to reach Nan Ping, I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping inside a stuffy cargo hold beside my entire retinue. This also solves the problem of the overly-attached shelled dinosaur following me everywhere I go. Ancient and powerful giant turtle though she may be, Ping-Ping acts more like a clingy ex-girlfriend, insisting on being as close to me, or more likely Blobby, as circumstances permit. I’m just glad she’s happy sleeping outside the yurt, because if she insisted on being any closer, I’d be sleeping beneath the open skies.

Sweet as she is, I don’t want to find out what happens when Ping-Ping gets angry.

While Pran and Saluk set up my yurt and Ping-Ping buries herself in the sand beside it, I greet my caged feathery friends with a heavy heart. Seeing the white-bellied, brown-bodied, blue streaked birds hop about on their perches, I choke up at the thought of what I’m about to do. Using dried fish to lure him over, I stroke Roc’s chest through the bars for what might be the last time. “You tubby little fiend,” I whisper, trying not to cry. “I think you’ll like it here. There's the sea and plains, plenty of variety for your diet. If you’ve forgotten how to hunt and get hungry, then you bring your flock and come find me okay? I’ll be travelling south, so try to find which boat I’m on. I’ll probably be in the crow’s nest, but if you can’t find me, then head south and follow the coast to Nan Ping. There’ll be tons of people there, you can’t miss it.”

I don’t know why I’m giving directions to a bird, but I like to pretend Roc understands me as he gobbles down the treat. I don’t know if setting them free is the right thing to do or if I’m consigning them to a wretched death in the wilds, but I can’t put this off any longer. They’re stressed out from being cooped up all the time, plucking their feathers and fighting amongst themselves even on the rare occasions I let them out inside my yurt. Since I don’t need their feathers anymore and we’ve travelled to a warmer climate, it’s time to let them spread their wings and fly.

Better to die free than live caged, right?

Giving Roc one last pat, I remove the padlock and unwrap the chains to their cage, dreading seeing them fly off into the sunset, but this must be done. As soon as the chains are gone, Roc lands on the gate and uses his beak to unlatch it, so smoothly his momentum is enough to swing it open. Without saying goodbye, the poofy bird flaps his wings and takes off with a flutter of motion, leading his flock out in the unending skies and soaring off into the-

...into a fallen sack of dried fish, carelessly dropped by a passing soldier.

After ripping the sack to shreds and devouring its contents, my feathery friends move to harass everyone in sight, laughing as they fearlessly approach soldier and sailor alike to check their packs and pockets for food or trinkets. Fearful of injuring the birds and drawing my anger, the poor souls suffer with minimal resistance as Roc and his flock flap unchecked along the beach side. Unsatisfied by the meagre offerings provided, they soon turn to assaulting anyone who lacks the means or intent to pay tribute. As I watch the cloud of laughing beaks and scratching talons nip and claw my friends and allies, I’m beset by a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach as I realize I’ve made a huge mistake.

Oh dear Mother in Heaven, what horrors have I unleashed unto your world? I plea for mercy upon my soul, as this was done in ignorance and with only the best intentions.

After a half-hour spent failing to trick them back into the cage and a stern visit from my unamused Mentor, I settle the avian issue by placing their perch next to my yurt and feeding them another bag of dried fish. Inwardly cursing these devious and deplorable blackmailing birds as they settle in for a post-meal nap, I take comfort in knowing some farmer or hunter will shoot them out of the skies soon after I leave in the morning. Wherever Roc and his birdies came from, I imagine it must have been a wretched land of anarchy and ruin brought about by these voracious winged vermin.

As if to make up for being a pest, Roc taps his forehead against my hand, his signal for head scritches. Stupid as I am, his adorable antics bring a smile to my face and I pet him until he signals the end of touchy time with a softer-than-usual nip. I’m not sure if he genuinely appreciates what I’ve done or if he’s exploiting my good nature, but either way, I’m kinda glad he didn’t just fly off into the distance.

I love all my pets. If I can, I’ll help them all live long and happy lives.

It’s a shame munching on Spiritual Plants does nothing for humans. At best, it’s trading Heaven’s bounty for little extra roughage in your diet. You might even suffer dire complications depending on the plant eaten. It hardly seems fair, but I suppose humanity is used to getting the short end of the stick and still coming out on top. Realistically, if I were an alien and knew nothing about humans aside from their physical appearance, I would hardly expect them to be the dominant species in a world with wolves, tigers, and bears, but here we are.

Woo, humanity. Fuck yea!

Praying my birds don’t wake up and go on another rampage, I settle down for a hot dinner cooked by Charok and his adorable assistant Tali. Another reason we disembark every night, the ships don't have a kitchen, which sucks. Aside from the usual suspects joining us for dinner, Huu's half-wolf geezer and the Protectorate senior Guan Suo also make an appearance, though there's no sign of Huu himself. The old timers are like two taciturn peas in a pod, showing up for every meal and leaving without a word of praise or thanks. I don’t mind the half-wolf geezer too much, he’s with Huu which means he’s one of us, but Guan Suo makes me uncomfortable. Not because he’s an outsider or because I'm worried he’ll notice something strange about me feeding water to Ping-Ping, but for another, less practical reason.

Namely his big, floofy, red panda tail.

I don’t like it. Mila’s floofy tail is adorable and it irks me to see one so similar on this long-browed, turtle-loving weirdo. Think about it: he’s a grown-ass man who spends his days masquerading as a plebeian woodcutter on the off-chance someone wants to bother his turtle friend. Ping-Ping doesn’t even acknowledge him, she doesn’t seem to care about anything but eating and Blobby, and by extension, me. Considering Akanai all but begged me to be on my best behaviour around him, I can tell she respects him which means he’s probably an incredible warrior, but I still can’t bring myself to like him. My retinue shared their gear and yurts so the Protectorate could look presentable and sleep comfortably, but I haven’t heard a single peep of thanks. Hell, Guan Suo is still dressed in his stinky woodsman rags. I can’t stand him, he smokes while we eat, spits where we walk, and expects everyone to cater to his needs while he hides all day and presumably brushes his silky white beard and eyebrows.

He’s disgusting and the sight of him fills me with loathing. Red panda’s are supposed to be cute and lovable. It’s a damn crime is what it is.

My irrational animosity with their leader aside, I’m glad the Protectorate joined up. Shabbily dressed though they might be, they’re a fine addition to the retinue. About a third of them know how to Conceal themselves and hide in plain sight, a skill I’m dying to learn but requires external Chi usage. The rest are skilled scouts, trackers, and huntsmen, which will be useful in Nan Ping if food ever becomes an issue. Even if they’re only here to protect their Guardian Turtle, so long as I stick close to Ping-Ping, then it’s almost the same as protecting me. If we include Lang Yi and the other seventy-nine former slaves from Yo Ling’s island, then my two hundred and eighty strong retinue has grown to a healthy four hundred and seventy odd soldiers.

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Don't think about the odds. Positive Mental Attitude. Every little bit counts, right? Then again, I'm a little concerned by how everyone talks like our victory over the Defiled is all but inevitable, with no one mentioning what to do should the worst come to pass. Is it pure arrogance or fear and apprehension keeping people from speculating?

“Aha! Thought I’d find you here.” Halfway through our meal, a third visitor arrives to join us at the fire. Slipping off his massive warhorse, BoShui leaves the nervous animal next to a pack of sleeping quins and staggers over with wine jug in hand. “I saw your birds flying about from down the beach and thought it’d be nice to share a drink or three.”

Signalling for Pran to look after his horse, I study BoShui with a frown. His glowing cheeks and goofy smile are both signs he’s started drinking already. “I thought we were past this.” He was doing so well too, showing up to spar every day with a winning attitude, if not a winning record.

“Bah. You’re more uptight than my uncle.” With an exaggerated wave, BoShui sits down and drinks deeply before continuing. “You need to relax, you’re not even twenty years old so stop acting like a grumpy senior all the time.” My sweet wifey nods in agreement as BoShui furrows his brow and scowls in mock disapproval, his voice dropping to a timbre nothing like my own. “Hurr, I’m Falling Rain. I only drink, sleep, and have fun on special occasions. Everything else is serious business, seriously. I’m no hardworking genius, you’re all just lazy and incompetent.”

I don’t appreciate his shoddy impression, Lin and the twin’s harmonious giggles, and especially not all the poorly hidden smiles from everyone in earshot. Interrupting him before he can trample what little dignity I have remaining, I whisper, “Not that I don’t like having you around, but shouldn’t you be back with your unit? We are travelling under military law and I’m pretty sure leaving your soldiers to drink is a punishable offence.” By execution no less. I’m not always a stickler for the rules, but when the stakes are this high, you can bet I toe the line.

“Tis, but we aren’t.” BoShui seems way to relaxed for a guy marching to war, but we all cope with stress in different ways. “Before we boarded our boats, the heroic Colonel General rescinded those orders and encouraged us to mingle with our comrades from other factions. Wants to foster friendships and forge bonds between the soldiers of the North so we can present a united front in Nan Ping, but it’s pointless.” Pausing to take a deep swig, BoShui sighs before continuing. “My Clan can’t put aside their squabbles and stand as one, so how’s the whole North supposed to do it?”

Ah. Family problems are a bitch, even more so for noble families like the Han or Situ Clan. Putting my arm around BoShui’s shoulder, I Send, “Are you in danger?”

Too drunk to notice my attempt at subtlety, BoShui snorts and says, “Always, but now more so than ever. The entire province knows I’m a placeholder, a decoy for the secret heir to the Han Clan. Now, after almost a decade of silence, my father- oops, my mistake, the Esteemed Han Patriarch – has ordered me to return to the Han Ancestral Home and pay my respects to the ancestors. It’s tradition you see, even though he’s ignored every other tradition, like a coming of age ceremony or even having the common decency to send a letter congratulating a Clan member who entered the Empire’s Roll of Experts. I suppose he thinks it’s a good time to unveil his real heir, whoever that might be. Build a reputation by killing me in single combat, then earn fame in the upcoming war against the Defiled. Things couldn’t work out more perfectly for my favoured sibling.”

Oof. Politics. I know next to nothing about his father, but I know the Han Clan’s official stance towards the Bekhai is one of cooperation and goodwill unlike the outright enmity and malice shown by the Situ Clan, Ouyang Clan, and Baiji Sect. In fact, most factions of the Society are pretty pissed at us, with the notable exception of the aforementioned Han Clan and the Harmonious Unity Sect. The way I see it is the Society got greedy and paid dearly while none of my loved ones suffered permanent harm, so I’m willing to bury the hatchet and start anew. Why else would I go to the trouble of making a copy of Elder Ming’s book before sending it and his sword back to the Arahant Sect?

Unfortunately, I am in the vast minority.

After a short silence, BoShui closes his eyes and Sends, “You’ve already helped me so much, but I have to ask: you wouldn’t happen to have more genius advice to share, would you?”

“Sorry buddy,” I Send, shaking my head. “I wish I did... You scared?”

Falling into a sullen silence, BoShui leans back to stare at the darkening skies. Everyone leaves to give us some space, aside from the two old codgers who continue stuffing their faces. Doesn’t look like they plan on leaving before all the food is done, which might take awhile. I don’t know if it was on purpose or if it was to let Tali practice, but Charok made way more food than our family can finish.

After a long pause, BoShui finally speaks out loud. “After Uncle BoHai explained why my father made me his heir, I decided to indulge in food, wine, and women, taking what pleasure I could before my time ran out. Whatever merits I earned or strength I gained, I was destined to become a stepping stone so why bother working hard only to give all the rewards to my killer?” Bringing the gourd to his lips, he gulps down the remaining wine as if hoping to find courage at the bottom. “For the longest time, I thought myself ready. At some point, the true successor would challenge me to a duel and I would die due to lack of skill or underhanded machinations. I resigned myself to fate, but now, as my time of reckoning draws near, I realize how afraid I truly am.” Sighing, he whispers, “I want to live...”

“Then fight.” My response slips out without thinking, empathizing with his fear of death. “Struggle with tooth and nail to survive. The future is not set in stone, none of the Patriarch’s plans matter as you still draw breath. You are Han BoShui, Expert of the Empire. Are you going to let some sheltered, spoon-fed dandy take your life and everything you’ve accomplished? Sober yourself up, go back to your tent, and practise, because your life literally depends on it.”

His voice is so quiet I can barely hear it above the sounds of the old codger’s slurping. “And if it’s too late to matter?”

“...Then I’ll avenge you. Whichever one of your siblings takes your life, I will send them after you to apologize with head in fucking hand.”

“...Thank you.”

“Hmph. Idiot children.” In a condescending tone, the half-wolf geezer interrupts our little heart-to-heart with unsolicited advice. “The weak are prey to the strong. Just kill the boy’s siblings and be done with it. Problem solved.”

“Pei.” Mistaking this for a group discussion, Guan Suo throws in his two cents. “Your solution is only temporary, better to chop nails and sever iron. Kill the boy’s father before a new heir is appointed, and all the spoils fall to him.”

“Bah. Might as well tell them to wipe out the entire clan and loot their coffers. The solution must fall within their means.”

“Does it not? If the little scamp can’t deal with a mere Han Patriarch, then she’s wasted her entire life. You’re right on the other matter, one must pull up grass by the roots, but I thought it went without saying.”

“Using external help is no good, children must learn to deal with their own problems.”

Trading incredulous stares with BoShui, we quietly leave the two old codgers as their discussion devolves into mud-slinging and name-calling. It's kinda cute seeing two old farts making friends. At least... I hope they're making friends.

While escorting BoShui back to his camp with a full complement of my guards, I ask, “So... exactly how many siblings do you have? And how strong is the Han Patriarch?” I mean... their suggestions weren't terrible, we could do the first to buy some time then work on the second. Who’s the little scamp? I should figure that out and ask her for help. Can't be the turtle, Guan Suo would never be so rude to Ping-Ping.

Shrugging, BoShui answers, “Two full-blooded siblings and seventeen half-siblings, but I’m only comfortable murdering one or two of them without knowing which one is the true heir. The pitfalls of having a conscience I suppose. As for the Patriarch... I’m not sure. Stronger than Uncle BoHai at least, or he would’ve killed my father for sending BoLao to the Confessor.”

Hmm... nineteen is a little more than I expected, and despite having never seen his uncle in action, I’m not confident we can kill someone stronger than the eight Spiritual Weapon-wielding Major General. Dude looks awesome in his spiked boots and gauntlets, like some medieval biker gangster or something. Besides, as Clan Patriarch and one of three shot-callers of the Society, I imagine BoShui’s scumbag daddy is fairly well-protected. Ugh, this is so bothersome. Is every faction in the North so full of strife or is the Han Clan an outlier? If not then we’re really fucked when it comes time to fight...

This really begs the question: After millennia of discord and dissension, how did the Defiled overcome their enmity and band together to attack the Empire and why didn’t we see it coming? There were no rumours or inklings of Defiled unification before their coordinated attack on the three Provinces, which means their alliance was less than a year in the making. How did their leader or leaders manage such a miracle? How are they communicating across such vast distances quickly enough to coordinate movements down to the minute? Do they have Defiled Radio or did they station one Defiled every kilometre and used Sending to create the longest game of broken telephone in history?

So many questions but I’m hardly qualified to ask them, much less put together an answer.

Whatever. Putting what I just learned to use, I focus on the positives in life, chatting with my friend about training and martial skills. Even if I can’t swing the outcome of the war, what I can do is put my best foot forward while doing everything I can not to start new feuds. Even better if I can make new friends, so it’s important I remain humble and pleasant throughout my entire stay in Nan Ping.

Peace and Tranquility is a state of mind, not two weapons I use to handle my problems. Balance in all things, not just martial skills and mindset, but in social interactions and stressful situations. I will become the embodiment of friendliness and harmony. No off-hand remarks, no funny looks, no accidental insults, just a pleasant, affable young man seeking like-minded individuals to make friends with.

Yea... this is going to work out great...

Ah, add that to the list: No sarcastic quips.

... And no eye-rolling.

Or smirking.

Or ogling.

Or sighing.

...

......

Ah fuck it. We’re probably doomed.

Where my furbabies at? I need a cuddle.

Chapter Meme