One million.

Ten one-hundred thousands, or a hundred ten-thousands, Goujian understood the definition well enough, but he never truly appreciated just how vast and unfathomable this innocuous number really was. Having been a citizen of the Empire all his life, he’d seen and heard it used in a wide variety of situations, from the earnings reports of extensive merchant houses to census records and population distribution throughout the provinces. Several cities housed tens of millions of citizens within their walls, so massively spread out it might take days to travel from one end to the next, while even a noble family of middling status might earn a million gold coins in a year. Tens of millions of gold worth of goods passed through the gates of Sanshu every month, while a prominent Eastern Noble such as the Legate was liable to spend a similar amount each year maintaining their various holdings throughout the Provinces.

No one could argue that a colossal disparity didn’t exist between commoner and Martial Warrior, but an even greater gulf stood between Martial Warriors and the true nobility of the Empire, those lucky few born into the ruling elites. Despite knowing sizable inequality existed, Goujian never truly understood how staggering the imbalance was, not until he watched a million strong army of Chosen and Defiled gather outside the gates of the Western city of ShiBei, the first step on their journey to overthrow the dog Emperor and bring about a new era of change and prosperity. So excited to take part in such a momentous occasion, he’d woken well before the break of dawn and perched atop the city gates to watch the soldiers gather in their camps, but hours passed and the lines of soldiers still stretched well past the horizon in every direction except east. It took three days to assemble this massive army on the fields of ShiBei, and another two to ensure everyone was equipped, supplied, and understood their marching orders, for a force of this magnitude was a clumsy, bumbling beast prone to turn upon itself if not kept on a tight leash.

And when they finally set out, Goujian stood on those city gates once more and discovered that the entire army didn’t even fit in his field of view, stretching well beyond his peripheral vision as these heroes marched east to raze and conquer.

This, more than anything showed Goujian just how vast a number one million represented, and this was merely one million warriors, a pittance when translated into gold coins or citizens of the Empire. What might two million be like? Or ten? There were a hundred and fifty thousand Chosen of Heaven in the Western Province, thrice what they fielded almost five months ago in Sinuji and each one armed with a Heaven-blessed Spiritual Weapon and clad in heavy armour of mundane or Runic variety. The full industrial force of the Western province had gone into equipping these conquering heroes, and every available one flocked to ShiBei to form the core of this unstoppable army. The Defiled tribesmen under the Uniter’s thumb were numerous enough to make up the remaining numbers, and while not as formidable as the Chosen, they were plentiful and expendable, especially while mounted on their ferocious garos and gajashias, a dire threat in their own right.

Goujian disliked allying himself with the Defiled, but they were a temporary stopgap measure to buy time for more Chosen to be swayed, trained, and armed. More joined their ranks with each passing day, but the numbers were woefully lacking compared to what they might have been if young Gen utilized his Talent of Oration more often to bring lost souls into the light.

Mounted on a gajashia of his own, Goujian stifled a sigh as he studied the disgraceful disappointment out of the corner of his eye. Unwilling to waste the effort necessary to sit upright and ride, Gen lazed within his sizable litter with the silken curtains parted while he indulged with his playthings. As if this wasn’t enough, he’d enlisted twelve identical, armoured Transcendents as litter bearers, and they marched in perfect lockstep while keeping the vehicle perfectly level at all times. Goujian’s past self must have been blind to hold such high hopes for the boy, but the Heavens were just and had opened his eyes to the Truth: the boy was merely a stepping stone, a tool to be used to help overthrow the dog Emperor, and after serving his purpose, Gen will have outlived his usefulness. The same held true for the shadowy Uniter, but in recent times, Goujian noticed they’d formed some sort of unbreakable alliance and unconditionally supported one another no matter the issue, hence Gen’s sizable Transcendent retinue which included the twelve litter bearers and twice that in unique Transcendent escorts, any one of which was more than a match for Goujian himself. A dangerous turn of events, since he’d planned on turning Gen and the Uniter against one another after the dog Emperor was dealt with, but now it seemed like his plans would have to change lest his death coincide with his hated enemy’s.

Thankfully, Heaven provided for its Chosen and brought Goujian newer, more reliable allies in the form of forsaken monks from the Penitent Brotherhood. Dissatisfied with their Abbot’s recent directives, this band of separatists had been lured over by the Uniter, but it seemed the world outside their monasteries was not what they’d expected. Instead of a land soon to be ravaged by Anathema, they found the Uniter preparing his armies to ride out and cover the Empire in blood and ashes, which Goujian presumed was different from what he’d promised. A gloomy and opinionated lot, they followed young Gen out of lack of better options, but if they were all like his dearly departed Teacher, whose name he only recently learned was Mahakala, then these monks were a force to be reckoned with, one he could not leave in the young wastrels hands.

Craning his neck up at their leader, he subtly called attention to Gen’s vulgar indolence and Sent, “You see now, yes? The boy speaks of walking the razor’s edge, yet he spends his time lost in a haze of lustful indulgence. His words ring true, but his actions betray him as one who has fallen too far to trust.”

Seated atop a hulking, ferocious tiger which towered above horse and gajashia alike, Vyakhya’s knees were level with Goujian’s eyes which meant the aged ascetic couldn’t see Gen’s wanton behaviour for himself, but there were plenty of other grey-robed monks about whom he trusted to pass word along. Thirty-one had absconded with Vyakhya, and like him, most were old and grey, but there were a handful of younger faces amongst the crowd whom Goujian concentrated on most. Young meant impressionable, and so long as the Brotherhood’s beliefs were not too ingrained in their bones, then he was confident he could sway them to his cause, or at the very least make use of them in some way. The most promising of the bunch was a tall, fresh-faced monk with the thickest eyebrows Goujian had ever seen, though the young man refused to share his name like Vyakhya had. Absurd is what it was, remaining nameless in hopes of avoiding the pitfalls of pride, but such were the Brotherhood’s ways, and Goujian had taken to mentally calling the young monk ‘Eyebrows’.

After a long pause to verify Goujian’s statement, Vyakhya smoothed his long, white eyebrows and stroked his beard in thought, his face impassive but actions a clear sign of inner turmoil. “Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo,” Vyakhya Sent, and Goujian found a measure of comfort from the tradition Dharmic greeting, as if his portly old Teacher were here before him instead of this wizened stranger. “This was not what... the Uniter promised, not the peace and deliverance he spoke of. This monk and his brothers seceded from the Brotherhood over differing beliefs and desire for a life of non-interference, but now we find ourselves even further from our goal.” Shaking his head, Vyakhya added, “In fact, to this monk’s great regret, it appears the Uniter and the Abbot agree on many points and really only differ in their methods. ‘The eternal soul above all else’, the Abbot was fond of saying, even to the point of overlooking Mahakala’s worldly proclivities.”

It was only after his death that Goujian learned his Teacher’s name, but hearing it Sent in such disrespectful tones filled him with a burning rage. Reining in his ire for the greater good, he asked, “To what end? The soul persists, but suffering is eternal.”

“No child. Mahakala did you a grave disservice with his half-hearted, lacklustre lessons, a failing this monk will endeavour to correct.” Though Goujian bristled at being called ‘child’, considering what he knew of Mahakala’s true age, it was entirely possible the aged monk was senior even to the Abbot himself, though it was also possible his appearance was intentionally chosen to give off the air of wisdom and experience. “The soul is eternal, but suffering finite,” Vyakhya said aloud, more for Gen’s benefit than Goujian’s. “However, life is suffering, so to end suffering, we must transcend life through True Balance and ascend to Nirvana, a higher plane of existence.”

“A prodigious hurdle to overcome.” Taking Vyakhya’s verbal bait, Gen’s voice rang out as if the boy were standing beside them, a subtle yet intricate application of Chi, especially when it would be much easier to Send. A show of skill, much like the peacock swaggers about with feathers unfurled, Goujian supposed the boy wanted all the monks to hear what he had to say, not just Goujian and Vyakhya. “Even more so when considering how from time immemorial to this current year, we can infer only two examples of possible success: the Mother, and the Father. Considering the rarity of success, would it not be accurate to claim ‘most are doomed to eternal suffering’?”

“Perhaps,” Vyakhya replied, making no effort to hide his irritation at Gen’s flippant tone. “However, such is life, trials and tribulations without end, all of which to prepare our eternal souls for the final journey. Anything worth doing is difficult, young friend, and salvation the most worthy cause of all.”

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“And therefore must be the most difficult as well?” Though Goujian didn’t look at the boy, he could hear Gen’s smarmy smile in his voice, a hateful and repulsive little smirk. “A man can toil day and night upon his farm, tilling soil and milking cows or what have you, but yet at seasons end, it’s possible to possess less than what he began with. That same man could walk into a gambling den, stake everything he owns on a single roll of the dice, and leave with twice what he started with, at almost one to one odds. Double or nothing, as they say, and if he dares to risk it all, he could even win ten to fifty times his starting stake. Most will lose, of course, but the one man who wins has won with ease, requiring no skill or knowledge, only the courage to gamble and possibly lose. Does this lack of difficulty take away from the value of his winnings? Hardly.”

Strange for young Gen to feign ignorance of farm life considering he grew up on one, but it was possible he was trying to distance himself from his humble beginnings and become the pompous noble he so desperately wanted to be. Regardless, his argument was farcical and obviously meant to be so in mockery of Vyakhya’s views. “Fifty-to-one is a tempting prize indeed, but your story twists the probabilities to your advantage. To the winner, of course it appears easy, but send fifty men to gamble on fifty different rolls of the dice, then chances are all fifty will fail. One in fifty is not the same as rolling fifty times to guarantee winning once, a concept difficult to understand for a child who has yet to master basic arithmetic.”

Though he lived his life as a pacifist monk, Vyakhya wasn’t one to shy away from verbal sparring, and young Gen was his favoured target. Unsurprising considering Falling Rain being raised to a position of authority was a pivotal factor in these monks’ decision to forsake the Brotherhood, though Goujian wasn’t entirely clear on the details. Mahakala had called Rain a brother, but Vyakhya claimed the runt had been raised to one of the Five Wisdoms, second only to the Abbot and first amongst equals, whatever that meant. Goujian suspected the Abbot was yet another Imperial stooge and had been ordered to give the runt a high position in the Brotherhood to lend credence to the rumours of Falling Rain being the Mother’s Chosen Son, the Imperial strings clearly visible on the backs of their willing puppets. Of course, he didn’t share his suspicions with Vyakhya or any of the other monks since his time with Mahakala taught him that spouting off theories without proof would only anger and alienate these would-be allies.

Young Gen had no such misgivings however, his laughter delivered clearly to their ears through Chi. “In theory, you are correct, but statistics merely represent the probability of an event occurring, while in practice, events of ‘impossibly low’ probability happen all the time and only go unnoticed because they are of no importance. What is the probability of a single raindrop, falling from a cloud born high in the sky, to strike a person instead of the ground or ocean? Minuscule, when taking in the fact that most of the world remains uninhabited, yet this low probability event happens multiple times a second when someone is caught in the rain, a common occurrence given the sheer volume of raindrops falling on any day.”

“Hmph. Mere sophistry.” Though clearly unconvinced, the aged monk had no rebuttal for the young upstart, and even Goujian was impressed by the boy’s clear argument. This was not the first time Gen’s logic had rendered Vyakhya speechless, and Goujian suspected it might even be the Uniter coaching him on what to say, which meant he had a way to communicate over long distances without causing the receiver untold agony. Pain was but an annoyance to Goujian, but he would still rather avoid it whenever he could, and this discovery irked him to no end.

“Call it what you will,” Gen drawled, clearly enjoying putting the monk in his place, “But the truth remains. Probability is one matter, and facts another. The Brotherhood’s end goals are admirable, but considering the facts, has it not occurred to you that you might be going about things the wrong way?”

“Speak not of what you know nothing about.” Bristling with indignation Vyakhya gestured at his fellow monks and asked, “Why do you think we are here? The Brotherhood has rejected its own precepts and refused to acknowledge the truth even when presented with indisputable evidence. The conflict between Empire and Defiled has been revealed for a farce, but still the Abbot meddles in muddied waters. The Uniter holds a tool to end all suffering and provide a form of permanence to so many who might never achieve it on their own, yet the Abbot still chooses to work against him. He is a fool who cannot see past his affection for this imperfect existence, no matter how often he secludes himself away from it. We here are the true Penitent Brotherhood, those who have held fast to our core beliefs while our supposed leader strays from the path our predecessors set.”

“And therein lies the crux of the issue.” Interrupting Vyakhya mid-rant, Gen hissed, “You call yourself a man of truth and claim you are willing to reassess your judgment when new evidence is presented, yet you still adhere to the precepts and teachings of your predecessors, monks who were unsuccessful in achieving their ultimate goal of ascension to Nirvana. Everyone knows that one must forge their own Path, yet you hope to succeed by following in the footsteps of failures. Do you not see the fallacy present in your logic? Or are you so blinded by your Sutras and precepts that you too fail to recognize the truth laid out before you?”

Exiting from his litter for the first time in days, Gen leapt out the window and glided weightlessly to the tiger’s back. His presence elicited a bone-shaking growl from the ferocious beast, but a single glance from the boy was enough to quiet it. Looking resplendent in his Runic armour, the metal had fused so seamlessly to Gen's flesh that it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended, and his strength had progressed by leaps and bounds in the short months since. A true Dragon among men, young Gen had finally grown into his power, and while Goujian would have once puffed his chest with pride, he knew he had nothing to do with the young hero’s progress and even feared his growing prowess. With Falling Rain crippled, no young Talent could match this peerless warrior, one who’d embraced the Truth and had seemingly been blessed by the Heavens as its one, True Son.

Perhaps Goujian had erred in turning against young Gen, but it was too late now. Their bonds had been severed, but their goals remained aligned, at least until they toppled the Emperor from his Jade Throne.

And afterwards? Well... Goujian would survive, for that was what he did.

With head held high and hands clasped behind his back, Gen looked the very picture of a patient scholar lecturing a difficult student as he dismantled the Brotherhood’s logic with casual ease. “Though your predecessors uncovered the Imperial lies of Balance, their revised methods were still based upon a single erroneous assumption, one which has plagued the Brotherhood since its inception. Imperial Balance is a lie, so why use it as the foundation of a new Path? Tell me, what is the single greatest barrier between humanity and Divinity? True Divinity mind you, ascension to Nirvana or whatever else you might call it, not the false Divinity claimed by Ancestral Beasts and other pretenders who still walk amongst us.”

“The final step,” Goujian answered, the words torn from his mouth in his thirst for knowledge. “Shattering the Void. Not much is known, except few survive the process.”

“Incorrect.” Grinning to take away the sting of the correction, Gen explained, “A monumental hurdle, but considering how few ever come close enough to approach it, hardly the greatest barrier to Divinity. No, like the raindrops which cover the earth, so too must humanity approach this final hurdle if we are to have any hope of success. For this reason, the greatest barrier is not the final step, but the first: Core Formation. More Martial Warriors in existence means more rolls of the dice, and eventually, they will fall in humanity’s favour, but the Brotherhood’s system of beliefs, and the Imperial’s which it was based upon, are both fundamentally flawed from the first step, and therefore doomed to languish in eternal failure.” Launching into his lesson with practised serenity, young Gen began revealing truths Goujian had never even considered before. “Imperial success rates of Core Formation stands at a pitiful one percent, while most Defiled succeed before their eighth birthday, so long as they survive long enough to reach it. Why? Because Balance, True Balance, is not about restraining emotion, but embracing it, and the Defiled have mastered this beautifully. The tiger beneath my feet also understands this well, a born killer who draws strength from his prey and ekes out a solitary existence. It will fight, mate, and kill whenever necessary and think nothing of it, but it will not hunt when sated nor will it mate when circumstances are not right. It adheres to its instincts, and for this reason, it has access to more power than most humans will ever wield, as will every other tiger in existence. If humanity wishes to rise above the beasts, then we must learn to embrace our true nature, noble courage and base desire alike. Only then will they be set upon the True Path. Why, under the right conditions, a base commoner can even progress from Core Formation to Domain Development in a matter of heartbeats, so long as the subject wholeheartedly accepts the Truth.”

Raising a metallic hand, Gen flourished his bladed fingers with a smile. “The flaws goes deeper. Take your Spiritual Weapons for example. Forged from Spiritual Hearts formed by beast or nature, the Imperials plunder these natural treasures for their own use, and in order to do so, must bind them as one binds a slave. One with the Weapon? How can you become one with something which you have stolen? Beasts understand this and forge their bodies into weapons, and thus they are one by nature without any binding required. What of One with the World? How many Imperial Martial Warriors ever reach this milestone along the Martial Path? Develop a Domain and you join the ranks of the true elite, one percent of one percent of humanity, that is one in ten-thousand. While there are a fair number of them in the Empire due to its prodigious population, these elites are a piddling portion of the whole, which is only to be expected. How can you expect to become One with the World while suppressing one’s own nature? That is not True Oneness, and any power derived from such is built upon a lie.” Sneering at Vyakhya, Gen looked the monk up and down and said, “You’ve touched upon the Truth, but still you chant your Sutras and flagellate your flesh to repress your true selves, even going so far as to mutilate your bodies to repress your natural desires. You live a lie, so how can any Oneness you find be True?” Shaking his head, Gen concluded, “As I said, difficulty has no correlation with value. Anything worth doing, must be done, and sometimes, a task is difficult simply because you are going about it the wrong way. Embrace the Truth laid out before you, and join me on my crusade to better humanity as a whole. Many will fail, but success... success is inevitable.”

By now, Goujian would’ve been a fool not to realize Gen was utilizing his Talent of Oration, proclaiming his message to every Chosen within this conquering army who cheered for their young hero and leader. Vyakhya and the other monks were all poleaxed with shock, unable to contain their agitation as they argued silently amongst themselves. Many, including Eyebrows, were looking at Gen with near reverence and Goujian feared the gangly young monk was lost to him now, as were most of these exiles from the Brotherhood. It mattered not though, for Goujian was a man who devoted his life to uncovering the Truth, and it was clear to him now.

After his setback in Sinuji, Gen had stumbled across the Truth, but Goujian’s Imperial-tinted preconceptions had blinded him to the facts. This young hero had blossomed into the man Goujian had hoped he would become, the Divine Son of Heaven Shen Tian Zi, and therefore, deserving of his unwavering loyalty.

From now, until the day the Heavens demanded his death, even if by Shen Tian Zi’s own hand.

Chapter Meme 1

Chapter Meme 2