Amidst the pandemonium of battle, Zian stood a man alone, his curved sabres flashing in a ring of rotating death beneath the starry night sky. His soldiers fought around him, but they knew enough to keep back and give him ample space, for fighting shoulder to shoulder was not his way. His whirling blades guarded him better than two allies ever could, and he showed his soldiers what a true warrior could accomplish, offering a goal to be matched and an example to be followed. Parry and riposte with the right, Deflect and thrust with the left, these were his primary killing tools as he strode through the horde of featureless Defiled, their howls of fury and screams of challenge cut short by his arrival. The exhilarating rush of triumph threatened to overcome his cool composure, but he swallowed the urge to give in to celebration and clung to calm tranquility instead, a task growing more difficult with each passing day.

Poise and self-control were his guideposts to the State of Enlightenment, but with having experienced so much bloodshed and mayhem in the past three months, Zian found his Path grown twisted and treacherous. Other warriors such as Rain or Fung could let their emotions rule whilst retaining Balance, but Zian found it would slip away if he gave in to wrath or jubilation, an irrefutable death sentence should it happen to a man in his current predicament. Though he yearned to give in to outrage or submit to euphoria and slaughter the Defiled to his heart’s content, to do so would mean to go against his Dao and seek a new Path to the peak of strength. No, better to stay the course, for his Martial Path lay in detached serenity, a tranquil mind and impassive heart in the heat of battle, his passions and emotions fed to the void within. Mentor Jukai had guided him well in this endeavour, teaching him that anger and happiness were not the Enemy nor a human failing, but merely a distraction of the mind. Zian learned not to suppress or eliminate his emotions, but to instead remain unaffected by them, a willow-tree swaying in the wind or a lotus blossom skimming over water.

At least until battle was won. Then he could celebrate his victory or criticize his errors all he wanted, for such was life. Love and hate, joy and anger, experiencing these emotions were all a part of the human condition, and repressing them wholly would unbalance him as surely as overindulging. Balance in all things, not only when required, such was his Dao of not just Martial might, but of life itself. A hard learned lesson, and one he had Rain to thank for, because if not for his defeat at the runt’s hands, Zian would never have fallen from grace and Mother would have never have allowed Jukai to meet him.

Mother in Heaven, it still soured his appetite to admit as much...

Sidestepping a clumsy attack, Zian dispatched the offending Defiled without breaking the rhythm of his whirling blades. The constant motion of his twin sabres provided both defensive and offensive options, but the key to utilizing them properly was economy of motion. Another lesson learned from his Mentor, for while Zian studied the reports of his father’s fighting style, Jukai had helped Lu An Jing perfect his skills through countless hours of sparring and deliberation. Two stalwart friends of humble origins, working together to puzzle out the Martial Path, and without Zian’s father to guide him, Jukai had stepped in to take his Martial Brother’s place.

Sometimes, Zian wished he too had a close Martial Brother to rely on. The closest he had were Fung, BoShui, and... Rain.

Ugh.

A jarring impact shook Zian from his thoughts as a Defiled Weapon broke his momentum, the triple-bladed bone katar catching his right sabre and holding it fast. A second, similar katar lanced towards his throat and Zian loosened his grip and Lightened his body, cartwheeling through the air to avoid the killing blow and free his sabre. Back on his feet and no longer caught, Zian slowed his tempo to avoid getting caught by his opponent again. Though his face was wrapped much like any other Defiled, his piercings denoted him as a higher ranking member of his feral tribe, though the two Defiled Weapons already said as much. Finally, a challenge worthy of Lu Jia Zian, though still not notable enough to warrant casting aside his current name, Clan, and Society to stand on his own.

Then again, considering the celebrated accomplishments of his peers, Zian would have to slaughter a thousand Defiled or kill a Demon unaided before the world at large would take note...

One step at a time. Giving his foe the respect he deserved, Zian fired off a barrage of rapid, twisting thrusts, daring his opponent to catch them so he could Deflect the attempt and leave the Champion open and vulnerable to a killing strike. Not rising to the bait, the Defiled Champion writhed and contorted to avoid the blows, his head bobbing wildly as his feet moved in a series of meandering and illogical steps which left Zian flustered and bewildered. When his opponent should’ve stepped right, the Defiled Champion leaped back, when he should’ve held ground, he instead gave way, his movements never ascribing to common sense or rational theory. Rather than a battle, it seemed almost as if the Defiled Champion were dancing instead, moving to an unheard rhythm which had Zian tripping over his own feet.

Unable to adjust to the cadenced movements, Zian opted for the next best thing: breaking it apart. Rather than aiming for chest, neck, or head, he set his sights on his opponent’s limbs. His blades flashed and simultaneously scored a gash on one arm and a gouge on opposite thigh, never slowing as he brought them around for a final, double thrust. Stumbling back beneath the onslaught, the Defiled Champion gazed upon Zian’s form and saw death approach, his eyes wild with madness and disbelief. Howling in wordless rejection, he charged forward and impaled himself upon Zian’s sabres, avoiding instant death and trapping them fast with flesh and katars. Legs kicking and teeth snapping, the Champion raised his head to the Heavens and...

Rippled.

There was no other way to describe it. As if a thousand bugs crawled beneath his skin, the Champion’s muscles quivered and pulsated while suspended on Zian’s sabres, and try as he might, he could not free them. Comprehension gave way to abject horror as he realized what was happening, his efforts redoubling beneath the assailing Aura before it was too late. A Demon birth, taking place in front of his very eyes, with both his weapons entombed within the emerging disaster. Tugging, kicking, Honing, and Deflecting, nothing he tried would free his sabres and Zian panicked at the thought of losing them both. Few things could destroy a Spiritual Weapon, but getting caught in the transforming flesh of an unborn Demon was one. The Living Legend Broken Blade Pichai lost his scimitar in this manner, and though he survived the ordeal to eventually reach the pinnacle of Martial Strength, he took the better part of three decades to accomplish such a feat, lauded as an exception to the rule, rather than the norm.

Was this the end of Lu Jia Zian’s rise to fame and glory, ruined before he could even announced his new name?

“Release your weapons and step away, Young Master.” Jukai’s voice jolted Zian from his panic and he did as his Mentor instructed. “Continue Honing your weapons and Mentor will handle the rest.”

Taking action for the first time, Jukai stalked into battle with the grace and poise of a tiger on the prowl, his sabres flashing in the moonlight faster than Zian’s eyes could follow. One pass severed the developing Demon’s hands from its body and a second ripped Zian’s Honed sabres from its flesh, their hilts hooked on the curved tips of Jukai’s matching blades. A flick of his wrists sent the recovered weapons hurtling back through the air, arcing high before plummeting down to drive deep into the dirt on either side of Zian, a display of control, precision, and skill which few could ever hope to match.

And all done in less than the time it took to blink.

Pulling his sabres out of the dirt, Zian scraped the Ichor off on a nearby corpse, flooded with relief to find his weapons were unharmed. Fully formed, a Demon’s yellow-white bodily fluids would not damage a Spiritual Weapon, but if caught in the transformation process, the transforming Ichor would render the nigh-indestructible material brittle and weak. No one knew exactly why, but most theorized it was the Father’s malicious purposes at work, a ‘protection’ offered to His children as they took physical form.

Mouth dry and heart pounding, Zian stood back and watched the Demon emerge from Defiled flesh, a humanoid nightmare given form. Grey flesh gave way to ebony carapace and the human-leather headwrap fell off to reveal features just human enough to unsettle and unnerve all who gazed upon its grotesque face. Blood-red furrows encircled its glowing green eyes and its flat, powder-white face almost seemed in mockery of the makeup so favoured by Central’s elites. Another bloody furrow divided its face lengthwise, running through the gaping wound which sat in place of its nose and its bloodless, black lips, pressed so thin they seemed stretched in a taunting grin. Shorn off by Jukai’s lightning quick actions, the triple-bladed Defiled katars rose from the ground and merged with the stumps of the Demon’s wrists, the blades elongating into sinuous fingers as its back erupted into a cape of billowing, dagger-like appendages. Each seemed capable of independent movement as they wriggled and writhed about, rearing up like dagger-headed snakes to snap at the patiently waiting Jukai.

Grotesque and disconcerting to the extreme, the Demon’s birth had put an end to the chaos on the fields of Sinuji as Imperial and Defiled alike stepped back to watch a duel for the ages, and neither man nor Demon intended to disappoint. One moment, both stood across from one another, and the next they were locked in bloody combat, though still several meters apart. In utter defiance of logic and reasoning, Jukai’s two sabres fended off dozens of the dagger-like appendages in a cacophony of ringing steel, his feet rooted in place and body untouched beneath the Demon’s onslaught. Some of the attacks were seen off by the sabres themselves, while others were drawn aside by an invisible force, the pinnacle of Deflection on full display as one man and two sabres stood unscathed beneath a flurry of attacks. So flawless a defence, a full arms-length of impenetrable air sat between Jukai and the Demon, a demonstration which made Zian’s attempts seem slow and unpractised in comparison.

The stalemate lasted for long seconds before Jukai’s first step, and to Zian’s dismay, it was a step back. The constant barrage of blades shifted and swerved, probing Jukai’s defences in search of a weakness and found one in his unguarded back, hence the need to retreat. Redoubling its efforts, the Demon surged forward and Jukai skipped away, knowing that if even a single appendage were to slip past his whirling guard, it would spell his defeat. Step by step Jukai gave way, and behind him, the Imperial lines retreated from the duel. Though itching to get involved, Zian swallowed his pride and moved aside, knowing that if he tried to help, then Mentor would die trying to save him.

Instead, he committed everything to memorizing this battle, knowing that if Jukai were to fall, then it would be up to Zian to unlock the secrets hidden behind every move and decision. To bind a Spiritual Weapon, one must become One with the Weapon, but to utilize External Chi to its full extent, one must become One with the World, and only then would Chi remain Chi outside his body instead of returning to the Heavens. That’s how Jukai explained it, and though Zian had yet to have much success beyond Sending, he clung to the words and studied his Mentor’s actions, hoping to find Insight or even mere comprehension to help him along. Deflection was only the most obvious of Jukai’s Chi expenditures and Zian ached to understand the rest. Was there an external version of Lightening which allowed Jukai to move as if in harmony with nature itself? Always retreating yet never stumbling as he tread through mud and over corpses, he darted left and slipped right with supernatural speed and nimble agility unmatched by anything Zian had ever seen. Such celerity required precision and practice, but also raw power as well, so was there also an external version of Reinforcement which raised the limits of the skill? Or was he instead Amplifying every step and pivot to keep up the frenetic pace, a feat which Zian wasn’t sure was possible considering how much focus it would take. One wrong move and an ankle would turn or a knee would blow out, to say nothing of the strain it would put on one’s muscles...

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Despite this consummate display of skill, Jukai claimed he was still inferior to Lu An Jing when he died at thirty-one years of age, only six years older than Zian was now. Was the old man a fool or was Zian’s father truly a dragon among men?

A strangled cry escaped his lips as his Mentor took his first wound, merely a shallow cut to the shoulder, but just as the embankment crumbles before the flood, the insignificant wound heralded the coming of disaster. For all his footwork and Deflecting, Jukai could no longer fend off the all-out assault, the dagger-laden Demon closing the distance between them and scoring more hits with each passing second. A graze on the thigh or a gash on the cheek, none of its hits were decisive, but it would only be a matter of time.

Or so Zian thought.

In a reversal of roles, Jukai let loose with a triumphant roar as he Deflected every appendage away in an undulating wave of darkness. Only a short, three meters remained between them, but Zian’s Mentor paid a hefty price in Chi to charge through that gap, and the investment paid off as his twin sabres bit deep into armoured carapace. In the space of a heartbeat, Jukai scored a half-dozen critical hits and gouged a multitude of deep wounds across the Demon’s abdomen, chest, and face before the bladed appendages recovered enough to defend it. Now it was the Demon’s turn to retreat, the distance between them widening to twenty metres as Jukai stood in place, flourishing his sabres with quiet arrogance and undisguised disdain.

An inhuman screech emanated from those thin, blackened lips, the Demon now sporting a new set of furrows diagonally across its face. A centimetre higher and Jukai would’ve blinded the creature, though some believed Demons senses had nothing to do with their physical organs. More than one Demon had been recorded as lacking eyes or ears and their vision and hearing didn’t suffer for it, but regardless, the fruits of Jukai’s efforts made for an inspiring display. Imperial soldiers sounded out with encouraging cheers to celebrate his display of superiority, and the Defiled shrank back upon seeing their revered entity receiving a sound thrashing at Jukai’s hands.

Cautiously moving forward to reengage, the white-faced Demon stopped and turned westward, its body frozen in mid-step. Long seconds passed in utter silence before it turned back to face Jukai, its green eyes oozing with hatred and reluctance. Its elongated fingers retracted into normal length fingers as the undulating katar appendages fell still and draped about the Demon’s shoulders like a leather cape. Drawing itself up to its full height, it spun on its heel and stalked away, crossing tens of meters with every step in casual disregard for the laws of nature.

Seizing the opportunity, Zian raised his weapons and signalled the charge with a wordless bellow, his cry taken up by his comrades and allies as they surged forwards to meet the Enemy. The Demon’s retreat did little to dissuade the tribal savages, but Jukai’s victory had Imperial morale at an all time high and they made short work of the remaining Defiled. With victory in hand, Zian relinquished Balance and let elation take control as he ran over to embrace his Mentor. Laughing like a madman, he shouted, “Let’s hear it for Colonel Jukai, Twinned Dragon of Shen Bin!”

Cheers rang out as the soldiers hailed their triumphant hero, but Jukai’s Sending cut through it all. “Bah. Twinned Dragon my ass. Your father was the dragon, and I a mere snake, hitching a ride upon his rising star. My Martial Brother would have skewered that fledgling with half the effort it took me to wound it, even lacking twenty-something years of practice.” Grimacing as he looked West, Jukai Sent, “Strange that the Demon retreated. I’ve heard inklings of other new-born Demons doing the same, but this is the first I’ve seen of it, and there has yet to be a Demon sighted marching east. There’s no doubt about it young master, the Enemy is marshalling its strength. A war is coming, one unlike any the Empire has ever before seen, so you must hurry and live up to your inborn talents.”

Resisting the urge to curse Jukai for being a fool stuck in the past, Zian composed himself and stepped back, wondering if it was even possible to catch up to his Mentor if given a century, much less a handful of months. Staying behind long enough to oversee the cleanup, he returned to camp a weary and worried man, hoping he could live up to his Mentor’s exacting expectations. How was he to take the next step and become ‘One with the World’?

A steaming hot bath awaited him as he slipped inside his tent, his beloved concubine ready with a team of beautiful handmaidens to help him wash away the rigours of battle. Having learned from experience, Zian kept his eyes forward and hands to himself while the serving women went about their work, well aware of Jing Fei’s propensity towards violence if her ire were provoked. Why she insisted on keeping such gorgeous servants, Zian couldn’t say, but he honestly believed she would end his life in a jealous rage if he were ever to smile at the handmaidens, and he would beg for death if he ever laid with one.

Oh how he loved this deadly and dangerous woman...

Sat in the tub with four naked handmaidens, Zian struggled to retain control while Jing Fei circled about like a hawk in search of prey. Stopping behind him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and massaged them, though she made sure he had a clear view of her sharp, poison coated nails. “Try and relax,” she Sent, as if she were not the reason for his tension. “In case someone cares to Scry on us. You’re not supposed to be terrified of your Fei-Fei, remember?”

A silly game of hers, where she played the part of abused and despised concubine so she could garner sympathy from his enemies’ servants. “Why bother?” he Sent, though he still did his best to obey. “The last nearby Society force set out on patrol this morning.”

“They did, but Ji Jing returned just before you set out for battle.”

Which mean Gulong was with him, Zian’s little cousin and greatest rival for the title of young patriarch. Not that he cared for the title, but Gulong would gladly slit Zian’s throat for it. A shame, considering there had once been a time when they’d been closer than brothers, but that faded away after Gulong suffered a shameful defeat at Falling Rain’s hands and Zian failed to avenge him. “Why?”

“It seems Rang Min desires a new wife for his precious heir, one with a larger dowry and more significant influence.” Jing Fei Sent, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he accidentally made eye contact with a handmaiden. Luckily, she didn’t break the skin else Zian might very well drown in the tub without assistance, so he closed his eyes and she continued speaking without missing a beat. “They came across a two-thousand strong force of Defiled and left little Ji Yeon behind to die, alongside seven-hundred soldiers to make it look realistic.”

Poor girl. Her mother was cousin to Zian’s mother, which meant that by blood, Ji Yeon and Ji Jing were the closest family he had in the Situ Clan, but they never got along. Ji Jing had always been jealous of Zian’s accomplishments and their father kept Ji Yeon away from the playboy philanderer Jia Zian. “A shame. I’m surprised Ji Jing went along with it.”

“Likely ordered to by their father, though I doubt their mother knows. She does so love her precious Ji Yeon, but alas, Gulong needs more support if he means to snatch the title of young patriarch away from my heroic husband, and a wife from the same Clan brings no riches.” Forestalling his questions, Jing Fei explained, “Ji Yeon is highly favoured by her uncle, Lin Xiang Gu, who also happens to be a Lieutenant Marshal and the Society’s closest tie to Marshal Yuzhen. Even though Ji Yeon’s father is amicable to the divorce, if it upsets Lin Xiang Gu, then the fat merchant might switch sides and back you instead. He is a rich man with deep pockets and widespread influence who, despite his best efforts, has no natural born children of his own, so he dotes on Ji Yeon quite a bit.”

“And her death, though unfortunate, should be more or less expected for a soldier on the front lines. Clever. A shame about the girl though, she was a shy, timid little thing with no head for politics, but Gulong was infatuated with her beauty and demanded the marriage.”

“Then perhaps dear husband would like to go bat his eyes and rescue her from Gulong’s insidious clutches.”

Though teasing, there was a hidden edge to Jing Fei’s tone, one which aroused Zian so much he almost missed the implication. “She’s still alive?”

“Indeed. Rescued by Falling Rain, no less.” At this point, her ‘massage’ turned into plain abuse as her powerful grip threatened to tear flesh from bone. “Luck or design, it’s difficult to say. The little runt is the most perplexing foe I have ever faced.”

Tapping her hand gently to beg for mercy, Zian Sent, “Luck, without a doubt. He’s not one to scheme or plot, following whatever fool notion slips into his head. Did you hear about his cattle-mounted cavalry? Ridiculous.”

Loosening her grip, Jing Fei switched to massaging his scalp instead, as she still needed physical contact to Send. “You underestimate your ‘friend’ too much if you believe his facade. On the surface, he appears to be a foolish oaf who cares nothing for politics, yet he has repeatedly outmanoeuvred all his opponents. He was sixteen years old when I watched him goad a forty-year-old veteran warrior into losing Balance, and only a year older when he humiliated Gulong and defeated you in single combat. Let’s not forget how he noticed my nails and identified the likely poison, or his book and the wonders contained within. Falling Rain is nothing short of brilliant, and to believe otherwise is folly.”

Resisting the urge to scoff, Zian Sent, “You’re reading too much into his actions. So Rain stumbled upon Ji Yeon’s forces and rescued them. Hers is not the first force he’s rescued nor will it be the last. His Bekhai scouts range farther than any others, which is how he finds so many Defiled to kill. It’s sheer coincidence he foiled Gulong and Ji Jing’s plot.”

“Is it also sheer coincidence the escorts Rain provided to see Ji Yeon back safely carried a report of the battle, a report which contradicted the one given by Ji Jing?” Zian could imagine her smirk as he shifted in the water, no longer as certain as he was before. “I believe Rain knew of Ji Yeon’s troubles and understood she could not afford to contend with her brother and betrothed, not while here in Sinuji. If she did anything besides nod her head and follow whatever story they presented, she would’ve tripped and fallen on her sword in the dark of night, but now, thanks to Rain’s report, she can seek refuge with Colonel Hongji and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop her. I’m told the Colonel even let Ji Jing dig his own grave and lie about the Enemy numbers before reading Rain’s report aloud, which I doubt he would have done unless Rain requested it. The Colonel has no reason to antagonize the Society, nor does he have the backing to do so, which means your friend is pulling strings and means to make you Situ Clan Patriarch.”

Ha. As if. “Rain’s never written a report in his life, he leaves that to his Second. There is no conspiracy and he is not pushing me to become Patriarch. Enough, we will not speak of this again.” This was the one point of contention between them, for she refused to let things lie. “I want nothing to do with Clan or Society. I intend to renounce my place as young patriarch and take up my father’s name, and nothing you say can convince me otherwise.”

“Oh idiot husband of mine.” Her condemnation almost sounded fond until she drove her knuckles into his temples. “You’re like a child who refuses to play the game because he doesn’t understand the rules. No matter, for your darling Fei-Fei is here to explain things in simple terms so you’ll know what to do.”

“I said enough! I will not be manipulated into doing your bidding.” The pressure on his temples had yet to abate, but Lu Jia Zian was not a bull to be led around by the nose.

“What you call manipulation, I say is merely speaking sense.” Changing her tack, Jing Fei eased up on his temples and pulled his head back into her bosom. “Fine. You want to become an independent Martial Warrior. How will you manage? Your uncle has recused himself from command and now serves under Nian Zu. Will his support be enough to keep you safe from the Society? Hardly, even if you add in your Mother’s influence as Magistrate. So who will you rely on? Falling Rain? Will you go crawling to your friend and ask him to shelter you? Will you also ask him to pay your soldiers and purchase your weapons? Is that the sort of man Lu Jia Zian is?”

“Of course not, but –”

“Yes, yes,” she Sent, speaking right over him. “You will accomplish a great feat and make a name for yourself. Lu Jia Zian, not Situ Jia Zian, and people all across the Empire will be dazzled and flock to your side. Is that what you think will happen?”

“Well... yes, but it sounds ridiculous when you –”

“Your name will be on everyone’s lips, but not in the way you think. Worse than unknown, Lu Jia Zian will be infamous, known solely as the fool who threw away riches to become a short-lived pauper. You want vengeance and recognition for your father? Then become Patriarch and take it! One word from you and Gulong dies tonight, with nothing to connect his passing to either of us. So long as he lives, your position as young patriarch is tenuous at best, so act now and seize victory!”

“I will not have Gulong poisoned.” Dismissing the serving girls with a wave of his hand, he waited for them to leave before opening eyes and turning his glare to Jing Fei. “Rival or not, he is still my cousin. If he is to die, then it will be by my hand, not yours. Understood?”

“As you command, husband mine.” Smirking as if she’d won a great victory, she slapped him across the face hard enough to darken his vision and Sent, “Now, rough me up in case someone is still Scrying so we can go about our marital duties. Mother-in-law is understandably upset I am still without child, so I will work you hard for the next few days.”

Heavens above, Zian loved this woman more than words could ever describe.

Chapter Meme

Chapter Meme 2