No matter how I look at him, Pong Pong doesn’t look like a creature standing at the pinnacle of strength.

For starters, he’s tiny and not growing bigger at a noticeable rate. I’ve been tracking his growth with a piece of string, and after four months, he’s barely grown a centimetre from tip to tail despite devouring at least a hundred times his weight in shrimp. It’s almost like he doesn’t retain any nutrients and turns all his food into turtle poop, which begs the question if he even needs to eat. I wish he’d grow larger though, mostly because it’ll make him even stronger. Sure he can summon tidal waves to crush his foes, but Chi alone (or in his case, Heavenly Energy) can only go so far. Take Reinforcement for example. Being in peak physical condition for a human my size and age, I can deadlift close to three-hundred kilograms without using Chi. That number jumps closer to four-hundred while using Reinforcement at 30% effectiveness, but maxes out around four-fifty at 100% effectiveness. The important thing to note is that those numbers are a flat value contingent off of my base strength, meaning that if my physical condition deteriorates, Reinforcement becomes less effective. Knowing this, how much extra strength could Pong Pong possibly get from Reinforcing the muscles of a turtle measuring seven centimetres long?

There’s something to be said about intimidation through sheer mass. Sweet and affable as she is, Ping Ping just seems so much scarier given her massive size, especially once you realize how much effort she puts into not accidentally killing things.

Another thing which I found surprising was Pong Pong’s temperament. Less apex predator and more petulant teen, the little turtle is prone to long bouts of pouting when things don’t go his way, but is also incredibly forgiving and magnanimous. Even lovable Aurie will show a little fang if I clip his nails too short, but Pong Pong has the patience of a saint. I’ve legitimately stepped on the little guy and gotten nothing more than a dirty look and a sigh, though it could be because he wasn’t actually injured. While Reinforcement won’t help him much, Pong Pong has an incredible mastery over Deflection which he uses to great effect. We even made a game of it where I toss fruits and pebbles at him and he Deflects everything inedible while allowing the fruits to plink off his shell.

It seems mean, but I think he enjoys the challenge, like being hand fed is too boring. Small turtle. Big mood.

Then there’s how much he sleeps, which is a lot. Twenty plus hours a day whenever he can get away with it, which I have no idea how he managed out in the wild. Even lazy Mama Bun is awake more than he is, and no matter how indelicate she is with his sleeping shell, nothing she ever does will wake him. I’ve seen her cuddle him, groom him, drop him, and even gnaw on him, but still little Pong Pong continues to sleep, snoring away without a care in the world while tucked inside his intricately patterned shell. I’ve gotten so worried I’ve had Taduk check on him at least a dozen times to see if he’s still alive, but every time my teacher has given Pong Pong a clean bill of health and told me to let sleeping turtles lie.

Gotta say, I’m kinda envious. The little guy’s got it made. If I wasn’t so concerned with keeping his power-level a secret, I’d charge him rent in the form of dead Defiled per month.

In the end, Pong Pong is a little too smart to be considered a floof. I’m not talking about animal smart either, where he learns a few commands, does a couple tricks and everyone’s blown away. While intelligence is difficult to measure, Pong Pong’s abilities go beyond simple tool use, facial recognition, or clever problem solving, as he’s proven himself capable of abstract thinking and reasoning. For example, after we ran out of shrimp during our first patrol, Pong Pong learned to ration his favourite treat and pad his meals with other, less desirable foods like smoked fish and cabbage. It’s gotten to the point where I show him all the shrimp we have remaining and he’ll decide how much he wants to eat. He doesn’t divide it into equal daily portions, but he always leaves enough so he never has to go a day without shrimp. He even knows to start on the fresh shrimp first before moving onto the preserved stuff, though it could be more a matter of preference rather than understanding that food spoils.

Although I’m not entirely sure how much of his cognitive abilities transfer to non-shrimp endeavours, all of this shows that his mental capabilities are far beyond most animals. It shouldn’t be so surprising considering Mahakala claimed intelligence correlated directly with chance for Ascension, but I’m still blown away by how reasonable the little turtle can be. He’ll make demands, like more shrimp, more Water Chi, or more scritches, but if I say no, then he’s willing to accept it, though perhaps not understanding why. It feels strange treating such an intelligent creature like a pet, but the way I rationalize it is that Pong Pong is smart enough to decide things for himself, and he’s decided that he likes letting me decide things for him. Where we go, when he poops, what he eats (so long as it includes shrimp), he accepts all the decisions I make regarding these minor issues without complaint.

Which is good considering his last turtle temper tantrum almost got Ping Ping, myself, and a handful of Peak Experts killed.

Sunning himself atop Zabu’s head, the tiny turtle in question surveys the land before him in a rare show of vigilance. Most days he prefers staying snuggled in Mama Bun’s embrace, but it appears the summer heat makes it too hot to spend nestled in rabbit fur. It’s that or Pong Pong’s feeling anxious because we’re back on the front lines again, but that might be me projecting my fears on him. Our month-long vacation in SuiHua felt far too short, but in our absence, the Defiled threat continued to grow unchecked. Now it’s the tail end of the eighth month and the small war-bands have been replaced by large tribes of Defiled, complete with Elite warriors, capable Champions, cunning Commanders, and even the odd Demon or two, marking a critical period in this war for survival. While a true, cohesive army like the ones we faced at Sanshu or the Wall has yet to present itself, these Defiled tribes are far more organized than the feral gangs which came before them. Most Captains can do little except retreat in the face of such overwhelming numbers, while even the most veteran Senior Captains are under pressure to perform.

And today, I get to find out why firsthand.

Seconds after Pong Pong hops into Mama Bun’s embrace, I receive a Sending from my old travelling companion and new scout leader. “Enemy forces inbound from east-north-east,” Orgaal Sends, wholly professional despite taking orders from a kid half his age, “Clumped up and close to three-thousand strong, possibly more trailing behind.”

One hell of a welcome party for our first day back on patrol, but we didn’t spend our vacation twiddling our thumbs. After Sending orders through Jochi to Orgaal to have his scouts swing around to investigate, I lift Unity high, and shout “Warriors of the Empire, prepare for battle!”

The violence and bloodshed is abhorrent, but there are certain aspects of warfare which I’m utterly in love with. Watching so many soldiers move into formation at my command is high among them, though I miss the first part while handing Mama Bun, Pong Pong, and Blackjack over to Ping Ping for safekeeping. Gotta protect the few floofs I’ve brought, and even Roc’s flock seems aware of the danger, landing to perch atop the big girl’s shell. Guan Suo will keep them safe if things get rough, but I’m confident my retinue won’t need help from the surly, ragged Expert.

Under Song’s leadership, Red One, Green One, and Orange One bring their Death Corps to the front with polearms at the ready. As I ride past to mark the battle lines, I see Orange Squad chomping at the bit for their first taste of warfare. I left them behind during our first tour in Sinuji and their hawk-nosed leader all but demanded to take part in the next. Still, despite her squad’s rookie status and eagerness to prove themselves, Orange One keeps her people in line with ease, each of them no less disciplined than their more veteran comrades in Red and Green squads, which is good to see considering they form the backbone of my front line.

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If only I could get more...

Behind them, my light infantry gathers for battle, albeit with far less discipline. Wang Bao’s bunch were always a rough and motley crew, but they’ve risen to a whole new level of organized chaos after being bolstered by reinforcements hailing from Sanshu. In the wake of the clusterfuck brought about by Yo Ling, Magistrate Chu Tongzu replenished his depleted City Guard ranks by offering amnesty to everyone who showed up to fight and signed up for duty. Perhaps having bitten off more than he could chew, the rotund Magistrate was more than happy to dump a hundred or so ‘rehabilitated’ bandits into my retinue, led by an unfamiliar face bearing a familiar name. A one-time sergeant of the City Guard, Chun Yimu shares the same name as my old war-buddy former Lieutenant Colonel and current Guard Captain Chun Yimu, so you can imagine my disappointment upon discovering I wasn’t getting a Lieutenant Colonel to boss around. To make matters worse, this discount Junior Yimu is nothing like his uncle and namesake, a lazy shirker who’d rather spend his time losing a fortune dicing with Viyan and Birca instead of seeing to his actual responsibilities.

At least the Magistrate was upfront regarding his intentions. Having seen the magic I can work with ‘undisciplined chaff’ (his words, not mine), he hoped I could do the same with Junior Yimu’s bunch, and I can’t say I blame him. It took Rustram and Wang Bao an entire week to get those former bandits under control, though part of it was due to old rivalries. Despite his new look and attitude, Wang Bao’s old rivals from the Crossbone Corsairs weren’t fooled for a second, which led to a tense few minutes during which I debated executing a hundred (mostly) innocent newcomers to keep them silent and damaging my relationship with the Magistrate in the process. Thankfully, the new influx of bandits were no strangers to turning coat and settled their differences with a few smacks to the face, mostly delivered by Wang Bao, though Rustram gave a fair few himself. I still don’t trust the majority of them to stick around when the fighting gets tough, especially Junior Yimu who apparently pissed himself when the Corsairs surged into the city gate he was stationed at during the Battle for Sanshu. The former sergeant denies it of course, but methinks the coward doth protests too much.

To make up for sending me a bunch of uncouth marauders, Chu Tongzu dispatched another familiar name to join my retinue, one far more welcome in these trying times. Guiding his elite heavy cavalry to the northern flank, Chu XinYue offers a smile and salute as he prepares his people for battle, happy to fight by my side once again after our victory in Sanshu. Loosely related to the Magistrate, XinYue shares Tongzu’s prodigious height and girth, a chubby, red faced Major who only recently condensed his Aura and joined the Empire’s Roll of Experts, but has been capable of External Chi usage for some years now. Honestly, I should probably be taking commands from him, but he wouldn’t have it, claiming he was much better suited to serving under myself or Rustram. Luckily, I know how to take a hint and placed Dastan under his command instead of the reverse. The moustached axe-man didn’t like it much, but time and time again, Dastan has proven himself too emotional and impetuous for command. As a warrior, his future is limitless, but as a commander, he doesn’t always make the best decisions.

Which is probably a good thing. If he weren’t, then he wouldn’t have given up his squad’s overwhelming advantage to fight Fung one-on-one outside Sanshu, and I would’ve lost my first, non-Bekhai friend.

...Not that I have many Bekhai friends. More now, I hope.

Riding past XinYue’s bunch, I join up with Bulat leading the rest of my quin riders. Jorani, Chey, Ral, Siyar, Erkin, Awdar, and a few other familiar faces grin in greeting, while Lang Yi and Lang Er sit perfectly still atop their quins, sweet, friendly creatures freed up from wagon duty by Moomie’s herd. Also joining the quin riders are the rest of the Khishig newcomers. Without me showing up to make a personal request for aid, Akanai could only scrounge up fifty Khishigs willing to join me, which was fifty more than I expected. Some served with me in Sanshu, while others I vaguely recognize as my peers, but most are loose acquaintances from the village. There’s Alsantset’s gorgeous, amber-eyed friend Maral, who I thought hated me for ogling, and her brown-eyed husband Gansun, who I know hates me for ogling. Looking past their hostile gazes, I look to the more friendly faces in the crowd. Agadei, Kiril, Hadai, and Tuya are regular visitors at Charok’s workplace, while Altan, Tomor, and Mugi are Yan’s friends from the orphanage, all much friendlier than Maral and Gansun. The rest of my Khishigs seem more or less ambivalent, joining my retinue either because Akanai asked or because they’re eager for battle. Regardless of their personal feelings towards me, their bows and scouting expertise are welcome additions to my retinue, and they’re happy to share their knowledge with their comrades in arms, the most valuable of which is how to best control the squeaky, furry, adorable quins and turn them into weapons of death and destruction.

Mostly, their advice boils down to keep the quins hungry, a practice I find horrific and inhumane. How can anyone bear to deny those adorable floofs a full belly?

Though I should never say this out loud, there are two recent additions who I value above all others. At first glance, nothing about Jigari or Abjiya really stands out. They don’t have Orgaal’s dependable composure or Ulfsaar’s silent confidence, nor are they large and intimidating like Chu XinYue or dangerously attractive like Maral. Clad in their light, summer robes, Jigari and Abjiya could even be mistaken for commoners if not for their Chi-Perfect features and bulging belt pouches overflowing with herbs, poultices, bandages, and anything else they might require.

Yes. It’s true. I, the Undying Falling Rain, finally have a Healer in my retinue. Two no less.

I was pretty surprised to find two healers in addition to the fifty Khishig newcomers, but apparently if it weren’t for Tokta putting his foot down and limiting it to two, I would’ve had more Healers than actual warriors coming to join me. Not because they’re my fans, no, but because they’re fans of Medical Saint Taduk. As sweet and goofy as he is, my teacher’s quirky behaviour makes me look like a social butterfly with charisma up the wazoo, and a chance to learn from him was too enticing to pass up for newbie Healers like Jigari and Abjiya. Personally, I think Tokta is an exceptional, if overly sadistic, instructor, but regardless of their intentions, I’m glad to have them both aboard and hope they’ll be enough to keep everyone alive.

Even though I know it won’t.

After months of patrols and battles, the prairie grass no longer restricts our view and the Defiled army jogs into sight from four or five kilometres away. The grass is still tall enough to hide in if you were to crouch, but the Defiled aren’t big on hiding which is why we have so much time to prepare. Not a second goes wasted as my people follow through on their training, but we’re ready long before the Defiled are even close to bow range, giving me plenty of time to study the Enemy. Once again, these Defiled are primarily of the desert-dwelling variety, and while they appear more professional than the ones we fought last time around, they’re still nowhere close to what I would call appropriately armed. Their weapons are largely improvised and what little armour they have is ragged leather or crude bone. They have no cavalry, no scouts, no standards, and no formations, pretty much nothing to differentiate them from an unruly mob. It doesn’t make sense. The first few groups I can understand, but how did a three-thousand strong tribe of Defiled fail to find even a single piece of armour or weaponry during their long trek through the Western Province? They’re murderous, not stupid. They wouldn’t leave serviceable gear to rust on the battlefield, so it begs the question: where has all the gear gone?

Personally, I’m hoping they used it all in some grotesque sculpture or macabre totem or something, because the alternative is too bleak to think about.

When the Defiled are a kilometre away, Sai Chou scores the first kill with her new Bekhai bow, a double recurve composite longbow taller than she is. The draw strength is too much for me to handle more than once or twice, but the grungy woods-maiden stands high on her wagon and fires off three more shots without slowing, each one finding its target true. As the Enemy speeds up their pace and more archers find their range, a symphony of bowstrings sound out, the Khishigs atop their quins and the protectorate atop their wagons letting loose at the encroaching sea of Defiled. There will be no organized duels today, no quiet exhibition of blades, for we are fresh and well-rested and they are close to their destination. With a series of mechanical clicks, hundreds of crossbow strings ratchet into place and add their quarrels to the hail of arrows, while the Defiled dead disappear beneath the unclad feet of their comrades, like raindrops disappearing into the ocean.

When the Defiled charge into the readied polearms of the Death Corps, their three-thousand strong horde is already at half-strength, if not less. Already in motion, XinYue raises his hammer and thunders into the fray, crashing into the mass of bodies and carving a swathe deep through their lines. On the southern flank, Moomie leads a similar charge pulling a hundred kilos of iron and more than double that in half-bear behind him. The angry bull flattens everyone in his path, and those lucky enough to avoid him are cut down by spinning, meter-long blades affixed to the wheels, leaving precious little for Ulfsaar to do. Accompanied by nine companion vehicles and dozens more of their mounted brethren, Ulfsaar and Moomie are barely slowed as they trample unchecked through the Defiled tribesmen, moving so quickly XinYue is forced to turn his cavalry around retreat back the way they came lest his cavalry fall victim to the stomping hooves and scything blades of my cattle-driven chariots.

Note to self: Give Moomie more scritches, and maybe a helmet and breastplate. He’s fucking worth it.

Also, leave a clear path for the chariots. Cattle aren’t great at cornering.

Less than a minute has passed since battle was joined, and already we’re in the endgame. While Wang Bao strides forth to join the fray with his mangy marauders and Bulat leads the voracious quins to encircle the Enemy, I open wide and Devour all the delicious, delectable Spectres before basking in the sensation of a job well done. Honestly, I don’t understand what all the fuss was about. So what if there are more Defiled? I’ve got soldiers, cavalry, armour, crossbows, healers, most importantly, cattle. Forget the chariots, I should just let the cows group together and fuck the Defiled up while we fill the survivors with arrows. If cattle are peasant animals and bows are peasant weapons, then it won’t be long before the peasants usher in a regime change. Who needs a wall? I’d rather arm every one of those poor labourers with a crossbow and all the bolts they can carry. Let’s see how many Defiled remain after getting hit with a million bolts every ten seconds.

...

I wonder if I can train cattle to Lighten and launch them at the enemy using some sort of cow catapult...

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