Despite having recently turned a hundred years old and spending eighty-two of those in military service, Nian Zu could honestly say that he’d never experienced a moment as gut-wrenching, heart-stopping, and downright terrifying as this one.

When the conflagration first consumed the Defiled army, Nian Zu had been overwhelmed with awe and delight as he fondly reminisced over the innocuous report which made this glorious blaze possible. A sealed document had been painstakingly delivered into his hands using the most stringent of security measures the Army had in place, a level of secrecy usually reserved for documents concerning the movements of Imperial Scions and their ilk. At the time, Nian Zu had thought this insignificant Colonel was either a self-important buffoon or an asinine fool, wasting precious time and manpower to convey a message which likely had no grave significance, but all of that changed after he read the first line.

Skipping any and all ingratiating preamble, Chen Hongji’s letter cut straight to the point. “This humble servant submits the following suggestions to bolster the front line’s defences, all of which were inspired by a single conversation with Warrant Officer Second Grade, Falling Rain.” From there, it detailed a comprehensive plan which painstakingly laid out each and every step along the way, as well as in-depth solutions for issues which might possibly crop up during development. When Nian Zu finished reading the letter in its entirety, he requested a meeting with the Legate at first light and spent the rest of the night poring over the document to both familiarize himself with the contents and search for any possible flaws or discrepancies which might require his attention.

There were none. He presented the plan to the Legate without making a single change or suggestion, and should he survive past today, Nian Zu would raise a glass to the humble Colonel, for Chen Hongji had dealt the Enemy a blow so devastating, they mistook his work for the actions of a Divinity.

Which, as horrid luck would have it, was not something the good Colonel, the Legate, Nian Zu, or any of his fellow Colonel Generals who’d all been briefed on the plans had expected or prepared for. Now four Ancestral Beasts and a single human Divinity were preparing to exchange blows on the fields of Sinuji, with at least two more Imperial Divinities and Mother knows how many Defiled ones still waiting in the wings. Before an audience of thirty-thousand Imperial soldiers and half-a-million Defiled killers no less, an audience which would survive for all of a heartbeat once one of these gathered titans threw the first punch. If Nian Zu left now, he might escape intact, or his efforts could prove fruitless and only buy him a few extra seconds of life in which to regret, but regardless of the outcome, the prudent thing to do would be to take to the skies and hope for the best. Before the Abbot even gave his challenge, the more sensible Peak Experts of Sinuji had already taken off, bringing away whatever talented youngster or prized heir they were sent here to protect. Strictly against military law, of course, but given the circumstances, the Justicars were certain to show leniency given that there was little a Peak Expert could do to affect the outcome in a clash of Divinities.

Thus, all that was left to do was wait for death while standing here cloaked in Concealment, their doom heralded by the slow, steady rhythm beaten out on the Abbot’s wooden fish.

Tock.

Tock.

Tock.

At seventeen years young, after Nian Zu’s ‘debauched’ trysts with the serving boys came to his parent’s attention, they proselytized for hours upon hours about face and filial piety in hopes it would cure him of his ‘deviant’ tastes, but even then, Nian Zu knew who he truly was and saw no reason to change. When words failed to sway him, his parents tried removing temptation and replaced his entire wait staff with willing and unwilling women alike, but he had no interest in tawdry perfumed courtesans or shy, androgynous young maids, so his parents soon turned to more extreme measures.

This came in the form of long periods of isolation and sleep-deprivation followed by endless sermons meant to turn his lust into self-hatred, delivered by a charlatan his parents hired to ‘cure’ this son’s affliction. Growing desperate for results, the charlatan soon turned to drugs, beatings, and eventually even torturing Nian Zu’s former lovers in front of him until he was forced to kill them with his own hands to spare them the suffering. Worst of all, his parents were always watching from nearby, often pleading with him to give in so they could ‘be a family once more’, as if he were the one forcing their hands. Everything they said and did only served to reinforce his conviction that they were in the wrong, for during their short meetings, he always asked them why they believed love between two men was so abhorrent and objectionable, but they could never give him a proper answer besides ‘because it went against nature’. Then they would go on about how it pained them to see him suffer, but that his actions shamed them to the core because as their only son, it was his duty to father them a gaggle of grandchildren to continue on the Situ name.

So one fateful day, Nian Zu slipped his bonds, killed the charlatan, and held a blade to his neck to threaten his own life and keep his parents from capturing him. Oh how they begged and pleaded for him to put the blade down, all the while desperately seeking a chance to wrench the weapon from his hands, but the edge had already bit into his flesh and it would only take the barest effort to cut through artery and bone, so they didn’t dare forcibly move against him. With his life’s blood spilling down his chest and his tormentor’s latest work still unhealed, he marched out the manor to the closest military recruitment facility and requested to join the Imperial Army, the only way he knew how to be free of Clan and Society influence. Never once lowering the blade or taking his eyes off his parents, he asked the recruiter for the longest contract the army had available and placed his bloody thumbprint upon the document sight unseen, pledging away the next five decades of his life to the Imperial Army on a document he later signed as simply ‘Nian Zu’.

And thus, the black sheep of the Society was born, the outcast and future Hero of the Wall.

Tock.

Before joining the army, he’d been no great talent, not in those early years, but Clan and Society helped forge him into the warrior he was today. Not through nurturing guidance and devoted care, but through constant tempering in fire and conflict. By the end of that first year, he’d slain no less than eleven of his more promising peers, each one sent to challenge him in single combat to regain honour for their respective factions. Then there was nothing they could do except keep sending challengers to face him, for their conflict had come to the attention of the current Situ Patriarch at the time, the dignified Situ Shi Min. Now there was a man who knew how to lead, a stately elder Nian Zu would have gladly pledged allegiance to were it not for his parent’s unrepentant actions. Unbeknownst to him at the time, Shi Min had not only punished his parents for their actions, but also declared that if Nian Zu were to be assassinated, he would overturn Heaven and earth to uncover the culprit responsible and exile their entire branch of the family from the Situ Clan or wipe out their faction from the Society.

“Situ turning against Situ will only end in disaster,” Shi Min had supposedly said, though Nian Zu only learned of it from Jia Ying decades later, who was only parroting what her grandfather told her. “This young genius is at odds with the Clan, but death is not the solution, not when he shows more promise than any youth in the last hundred years. You want his blood? Then bring me another genius to match him. Otherwise, shut your whining mouths and get to work wooing him back into the fold.”

Nian Zu never met Shi Min in person, for his status had been far too lowly for the Old Patriarch to take direct action, but apparently Shi Min was his staunchest supporter and always believed his grievance with Clan and Society would fade with time. In fact, the Old Patriarch was so fond of Nian Zu, he would often tell tales of the black sheep’s exploits in private instead of lauding his own grandson and successor, Rang Min, which led to an irreconcilable grievance between the current Patriarch and Nian Zu. Truth was, Shi Min’s effort to win Nian Zu over would have succeeded, because his anger died alongside his father, but on his first journey back to the Society Headquarters in four decades to attend the funeral, he was ambushed by assassins he later discovered had been dispatched by Rang Min.

As for Shi Min’s promise to expel the culprit responsible? That promise was never fulfilled, but Nian Zu suspected it was not for lack of trying. A week after the ambush, the Old Patriarch unexpectedly passed away and Rang Min rose to replace him.

Tock.

Such was the way of Clan politics, in which a heartless cad who murdered the loving grandfather who nurtured and guided him was more respected than a rebel child who ran away from the parents who abused him. Worse, the experience turned Rang Min into a rabid dog, one accustomed to killing anyone who crossed his path, as evidenced by the fate of so many Situ Clan talents. Even Lu An Jing, a man who would never hold true power in the Situ Clan on account of his name, was killed before he could become a threat, and Nian Zu shuddered to think of the horrific price Jia Ying was rumoured to have paid to keep her then-unborn child alive. Rang Min’s chosen successor was just as ruthless as he, little Situ Gulong going so far as to throw his own betrothed to the Defiled so as to free himself up for the mere promise of an Imperial bride. With such disgraceful behaviour becoming known to all, the Situ Clan was coming apart and held together only by Rang Min’s force of will, but once he was gone, the Situ Clan’s centuries of glory would be naught but dust upon the wind, for there was no one left to take his place.

No... there was someone. Nian Zu could be Patriarch tomorrow if he should so desire it, claiming the title as easily as turning a hand. Kill Rang Min, marry Jia Ying, and the rest of the Clan would fall in line behind him. He could even reach out to Han BoHai and install him as Patriarch of the Han Clan, then together, they would lead the Society towards a glorious future.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

To do so, he only needed to survive today. Tomorrow, the possibilities were endless...

Tock.

Noticing his thoughts had gone astray once again, Nian Zu chuckled at the Enemy’s great efforts to dissuade him from acting, something he took as an undue compliment. With five Divinities already standing on the field, how could a mere Nian Zu affect the outcome?

...

Yes... how could he affect the outcome? There must be some way, else why was the Enemy so concerned regarding his presence? Remembering the letter which started this all, Nian Zu reflected on Hongji’s closing statement and steeled his resolve for the coming conflict.

How many times had he stared death in the eye? Far too many to count, most recently just over a year ago when the Enemy dispatched close to a hundred Wraiths and nine Demons to assassinate Nian Zu and the other commanders at the Northern Wall, hoping their deaths would put an end to the Northern Wall’s staunch defence. He himself had faced no less than five Demons and twenty Wraiths inside the walls of his manor, and only survived thanks to the destructive power of his Shooting Star which turned his beloved hill-top home into an unsightly crater. Even then, the injuries he suffered put him into a coma, one he would’ve never awoken from if not for the miraculous, painstaking efforts of the Medical Saint to help him recover and become even stronger than before.

And now, he knew why the Mother had spared him. To strike fear into the heart of the Enemy. All his years of struggle, countless hours of training, duels he fought, assassins he killed, battles he commanded, reputation he amassed, every trial and tribulation he faced before today, all of it was in preparation for this very moment, so he could persevere in the face of overwhelming odds and perhaps make a difference in this battle between Gods. Swallowing his fear and trepidation, he gripped his mace tight and Sent orders to his trusted cadre of Peak Experts, their loyalty unquestionable and their determination unfathomable. The eight youngest of his cadre he directed to Falling Rain’s side with orders to help the Bekhai keep their princeling and his talented comrades alive, though it was more for the safety of his soldiers since he doubted young Rain, who’d come to Sinuji with no less than four Divinities in his entourage, would need Nian Zu’s assistance to escape.

All of his chosen soldiers understood why Nian Zu picked them, but only dour Binesi dared respond. “Thirty years I have served you loyally,” the impassioned young warrior Sent, “And you would send me away, here and now, while facing the greatest challenge of your illustrious career? And for what? To guard some brat?”

Mother-in-Heaven... Had it really been thirty years since Nian Zu picked the fresh-faced Binesi to groom as a possible successor? “Do you not hail from the Saint’s Tribulations mountains? I would think you’d be glad to protect your kinsman.”

Tock.

“Bah. The foundling is no kin of mine,” Binesi replied, and Nian Zu could picture the unyielding grimace stretched across his proud features as he uttered the word, though Binesi would never explain why he deemed Rain so. “I hail from the mountains, but I am no Bekhai. My wife Asane, my children Aska and Teekway, and my grandchildren Mani, Matchi, and Ayas, they are my kin, and I would die for them.” Pausing, he added, “And I would die for you, Colonel General.”

“Then heed your orders and live instead, if not for me, then for your family and country.” Though touched by the implication, Nian Zu pictured the young, fifty-seven year old grandfather and wondered where all the years had gone. “The Empire will need your strength in the days to come, and in the future, it will need those whelps you so scorn. Serve Baatar as you have served me, for he is the leader I’d hope to one day become.”

“Yes Colonel General,” Binesi replied, his tone subdued, but unwilling. “Only I fear Baatar is not the man you believe him to be. You fight for love of the Empire, but him? He is a mad wolf who fights only for the thrill of the battle, and he would burn the Empire to ashes if it should so suit him.”

Having married one and adopted two more, Binesi would be the last man in the Empire to harbour hostile half-beast sentiments, which meant perhaps there was more to Baatar and the Bekhai than Nian Zu suspected. Still, this was not the time to delve into tribal mountain politics, so he snarled and Sent, “Then serve whomsoever you choose starting tomorrow, but today, while I still live and breathe, you will serve me. Understood?"

“...By your command, Colonel General.”

Sensing rather than seeing his Concealed subordinates leave, Nian Zu suppressed a sigh and implored the Mother to watch over them. Eight Peak Experts were all he could spare, and the remaining forty-two would live or die with him, as would most of the soldiers in Sinuji. Even if he gave the order to retreat and the Divinities allowed it, the surviving Defiled were unlikely to let them leave untouched, and out on the open plains of Central, his people would be ground to meat paste beneath the taloned claws and stamping hooves of garos and gajashias alike. Since his soldiers were doomed regardless if they left or stayed, then it was better to stay and consign the Defiled army to doom alongside them.

It might seem callous to say this, but thirty-thousand Imperial soldiers in exchange for one million Defiled was a butcher’s bill Nian Zu would happily pay time and time again, but when it came to the lives of his soldiers, he was stingier than any fishwife or farmer’s daughter and always demanded the best price. Thus, his next barrage of Sent orders were aimed at doing just that, laying out the groundwork for his plan of attack. Even the best laid plans rarely survived first contact with the Enemy, but Nian Zu knew none of them would survive first contact with a Divinity, and his plan reflected as much. Every single one of his forty-two orders were similar in nature. “Wait for my signal, then attack Zhu Chanzui with all your might.”

Not much was known about the Bristleboar Immortal aside from his prolific appetite for food and women alike, but anyone with eyes could see he was the stronger of the two Defiled Divinities. Perhaps it was due to exhaustion from her earth-shaping efforts, but the unnamed, Earth-Blessed Mole-Rat had been utterly helpless against Guan Suo’s Blessing of Smoke, so if Nian Zu could distract Zhu Chanzui, he might create an opening for his three allied Divinities to exploit. It was only tactically sound to have him, a relic past his prime with no hope of advancement, to deal the opening strike and risk springing whatever trap the Enemy might have left in place, for only a fool would believe the Enemy stupid, not after everything Nian Zu had witnessed first-hand.

There was a good chance there were more Defiled Divinities lurking about, whether they be human, Demon, or Ancestral Beast, so Nian Zu was prepared to sacrifice his life and the lives of his loyal soldiers to uncover them.

His orders given and the groundwork laid, Nian Zu steeled his determination and took to the air, Cloud-Stepping away from Sinuji like so many of his countrymen already had. With luck, the Enemy Divinities would pay him no mind and think him a rat scurrying away in panic, but unlike the others, Nian Zu moved north, rather than east. Soaring high into the sky, he hesitated for the briefest of moments until the Abbot’s drum sounded once more, a timing so fortuitous he wasn’t sure if he should attribute it to Divine Intervention or simply the Abbot catching wind of his actions. Then there was no more time for thought as he raised his mace to the Heavens and filled it with every scrap of Chi he could muster.

The Shooting Star. That was the title his peers and admirers had bestowed upon him, named so for his weapon and signature move, which, like Falling Rain so loved to do, was simply Nian Zu casting his weapon at his enemies from afar. A high-risk, high-reward gambit, it was a move he perfected over decades of duels against stronger, more experienced foes. Somewhere along the way, he’d discovered not only how to Guide, Reinforce, and Amplify the strike, but also how to use Lightening to increase his mace’s weight and Honing to cut through the air resistance to speed his weapon’s flight along.

And his crowning achievement? He combined all of the above with Reverberation to make his weapon oscillate at speeds invisible to the naked eye and emit destructive, pulsating shockwaves of Chi through the air which would shred apart anything which even came close to the speeding projectile, turning this simple throw of his mace into a true, Heaven-sent Talent.

The Shooting Star exploded from his grasp and hurtled towards his target, reaching Zhu Chanzui in the blink of an eye. The mace struck with a clap of thunder and raised a billowing plume of dirt and ash. As the debris rained down, the attacks from Nian Zu’s elites finally arrived. Most, such as Singing Spear Shi Yukun and Clearsky Bao, threw their weapons like he had, while a select few delivered devastating blows through Chi alone, imperceptible projectiles only visible by the gaps they left behind in the settling cloud of dust. Inefficient, but deadly, and even though he was titled ‘The Immortal’, Nian Zu had to believe Zhu Chanzui would not emerge unscathed.

Most would’ve opted for a coordinated attack in concert with his soldiers, but considering the strength of their opponent, he chose to strike first in the hopes of catching the Immortal off-guard and therefore allow his soldiers to inflict more damage on a hopefully wounded foe. Time seemed to stop as Nian Zu’s upwards momentum came to an end, and after single second which stretched into eternity, he began to fall, but still the Immortal had not emerged. Had it worked? He almost didn’t dare to hope, but drained of all Chi and strength, all he could do was watch the dust settle and hope against all hope that this sudden attack had secured an Imperial victory.

As the ground rushed to greet him, Nian Zu grit his teeth and readied for impact, but a light breeze swept him up and he found himself standing on the walls once more, this time behind Falling Rain.

Tock.

The Abbot’s steady drumming continued to echo throughout Sinuji, and while looking about for the mysterious stranger who saved him, Nian Zu belatedly realized Guan Suo and GangShu were both still standing on the parapets, or rather lying on the parapets in the case of the former. Not one of the Imperial Divinities had capitalized on Nian Zu’s painstaking efforts, and even though he hadn’t warned them in advance for fear of alerting the Enemy, he thought beings of such prowess would at least be able to react in time, but...

No...

It’s not that the Divinities didn’t react in time, but rather they couldn’t act.

The clouds of dust parted to reveal Zhu Chanzui standing at full attention, utterly unharmed saved for Nian Zu’s mace embedded in his meaty chest. An assortment of other Spiritual Weapons lay about his feet, but none had left so much as a mark upon his embroidered tunic. With a sneer so wide even a mundane farmer could see it from two kilometres away, the portly Bristleboar Divinity wrenched the mace out of his chest and held it up to inspect, his actions comically dismissive and meant to mock Nian Zu’s century of hard effort. “Not bad fer a weak mortal,” Chanzui said, the statement laced with barely restrained amusement. “What’s yer name again? Oh right, Nian Zu, isn’t it? The Great Hero of the Wall. Go train fer another three-hundred years, and mebbe yer attacks’ll be worth dodgin’.”

And just like that, with only a few words, Zhu Chanzui dealt a deathblow to the morale of Sinuji’s soldiers. A Colonel General and Living Legend, and his attacks weren’t even worth dodging.

Just as he was about to lose himself to despair, a small hand patted him on the arm and a voice said, “Stand tall.” Eyes fixated on the Enemy Divinities, Falling Rain had come to support Nian Zu in his time of need, even positioning himself to share his walker should his elder require it. Laughable is what it was, the boy was crippled and helpless, the first to die should he be left on his own, but still his amber eyes burned with the twin fires of courage and conviction. “The Great Hero of the Wall can falter, but he cannot fall, not while so many are still counting on you.”

“You’re right.” Finding new strength where he thought there was none to be had, Nian Zu stood upright and presented himself to the Enemy without shame. Opening his mouth as if to speak, he instead exerted what remained of his Chi and willpower to wring his mace from the Bristleboar’s hands and summon it back to his hand in a single motion, unsteady though it might be. “The man who prepared this stunning blow which set off our conflict,” he said, ignoring Chanzui’s unsightly scowl, “Was also a weak mortal, but your associate mistook his work for a Divinity’s. Obviously, I am no match for him, but I share with you his words which inspired me to act today.” Hoping against all hope, he prayed that if he should die here today, that Chen Hongji’s words would spread like wildfire through the Empire tomorrow. “When Gods stride out to meet in battle, Heaven and Earth are torn asunder, and Mortals can do naught but persevere.” Grinning like a madman, Nian Zu tucked his mace into the crook of his arm to strike a defiant pose.

“And I, Nian Zu, am nothing if not persistent.”

Chapter Meme

Chapter Meme 2