As the soldiers of Sinuji cheer for the Living Legend and his bulging brass balls, I can’t help but focus on the negative aspects of our current situation.

Colonel General Nian Zu, a man who only a few weeks ago represented the peak strength of a Martial Warrior under one-hundred years of age, just threw his best punch at an unsuspecting Zhu Chanzui, and big poppa piggy didn’t even flinch. Literally. The dude stood in place, took the famed Shooting Star head on, and emerged with barely a scratch. The Immortal? More like the Immovable. Go on a diet, you fucking fat fatty.

Summoning crashing tsunamis, rolling waves of earth, and exploding words of smoke is impressive and all, but this exchange between Nian Zu and big poppa piggy truly highlights the vast difference between human and Divine. The Colonel General has no Elemental Blessing and to my knowledge, neither does Zhu Chanzui, so whatever skills they just used in their stunning but singular exchange are available to every Martial Warrior in existence, yet I cannot begin to fathom how any of it was even possible. What skills did Nian Zu use to turn his ordinary and unassuming mace into a supersonic projectile which exploded with the force of a goddamned missile? How did Zhu Chanzui forge a body strong enough to withstand such a powerful attack? For that matter, how did the attacks of a few dozen Peak Experts fail to even leave a mark on the Bristleboar Divinity’s robes? Even if they were Runic Robes, seeing how they’d already been pierced by Nian Zu’s Shooting Star, it would’ve removed any protections the Runes might’ve offered and the thrown spears, cleaving polearms, spinning axes, and crashing hammers should’ve at least left a few wrinkles, but no. Nothing.

Is it because of his Domain? Gen’s stopped a slash meant to separate his head from his shoulders, so maybe that’s what’s going on here, only dialed up to a hundred. Dammit, this makes my whole ‘Undying’ routine laughable. Don’t need to Heal if you never get hurt.

First Tenjin and now Nian Zu, my fellow soldiers draw courage from the exemplary display of these two outstanding individuals, but I find nothing inspiring in failure. While we have more Divinities, the Defiled still have a massive army which dwarfs our own, and then there’s the minor detail in which we’re all dead once the Divinities start throwing punches. Call me a pessimist, but this is not a glass-half-full sort of moment, and I don’t see anyway out aside from everyone taking a step back and adhering to the Treaty.

Which was just broken.

For the second time since this war started.

That I know of.

...

So probably not a great idea.

As it turns out, I’m not the only one who wants to deescalate the situation. Emerging from the Defiled ranks, a second monk takes the stage alongside Zhu Chanzui and Mole Rat Lady. “Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo,” the old, but robust monk intones, carrying a Spade similar to Mahakala’s while sporting an impressively long, white beard with matching frosted eyebrows. Assuming he’s the Old Healer Jorani mentioned, this errant monk looks every bit the part with his neat, grey robes and humble demeanour, and he arguably even looks more compassionate than the Abbot due to having fewer wrinkles and actual eyebrows. Even the familiar phrase sounds every bit as natural coming from this newcomer’s lips, spoken in the same calm cadence and soothing timbre the other monks favour. “There is nothing to be gained in a clash of Divinities,” he says, eyes closed and palms pressed together in prayer as one would expect of a holy man. “As the valiant Colonel General so ably demonstrated, ours is not a conflict in which mortals might participate, yet at its core, this is still a mortal issue. We who stand upon the cusp of true Divinity have transcended beyond the red dust of the mortal world, and should not lower ourselves to taking part in their meaningless struggles, especially in light of how we arrived at this impasse due to a simple misunderstanding. This monk implores you all to adhere to the Treaty, lest the world be consumed by our struggles.” Shaking his head with a mournful sigh, the monk opens his eyes and directs his pointed gaze at the Abbot, one full of dejection and disappointment. “It pains this monk to see the Penitent Brotherhood fall so far, to hear the esteemed Abbot, our revered leader and figurehead, sully himself with a cause so petty as revenge. Yours was to be the voice of reason, yet here you stand calling for the blood of another in callous disregard of the lives which will be lost in your quest for misguided vengeance. Such anger, such sin.”

I hate how reasonable this new monk sounds and how he paints the Abbot as the bad guy while standing on the side of cannibals and rapists. Still drumming away on his wooden fish-drum, the Abbot’s heated response sends a chill down my spine even as the soothing clap of his instrument rings out into the night. “Misguided? Is it misguided to seek justice for crimes committed? You implore us to hold to the Treaty, yet you stand with Zhu Chanzui who has already broken it, so many months ago when he took the life of this monk’s Senior Brother.” Pointing at the Mole-Rat Divinity, the Abbot continues, “You stand with this creature who not five minutes past broke the Treaty herself, a violation you witnessed with your own eyes and did nothing to stop. What would you have done if there were no other Divinities present? Chided her for her ‘misunderstanding’ over a mountain of corpses?” Snorting in time with his drum-beat, the Abbot’s forceful ‘Hmph’ is teeming with righteous fury. “By the terms of the Treaty you so invoke, violators are to be killed without mercy, for their actions threaten the safety and sanctity of all life in existence. Do as you say and adhere to the Treaty, Brother. Two such violators stand with you. Remove them, and the Treaty will be upheld, else you force this monk’s hand.”

I love this virtuous, bloodthirsty monk persona much more than the ‘no sex, drugs, or meat’ version. Granted, he seems awfully ambivalent about the fallout of his actions, but only an idiot plays by the rules when your enemies only does so when it suits them.

Then again, only an idiot throws more fuel onto a barely controlled blaze, as GangShu does with his sarcastic jibe. “Kill all those Defiled while yer at it too. If not fer her, they’d all be dead and I’d be nice and comfy out of me armour.”

While he’s not wrong, it’s hard not to feel like the Imperial Divinities are less concerned about innocent casualties than the Enemy Divinities, which leaves me more than a little conflicted. Then again, I suppose they might feel like thirty-thousand Imperials for one-million Defiled is a deal too good to pass up, and I’d agree with them if neither I nor anyone I cared about were a part of those ill-fated thirty-thousand, not to mention all my sweet, lovable floofs. Maybe I’m being biased and can’t see the bigger picture, but either way, I’m in favour of calling all Divinities to stand the fuck down.

Or at least, that’s how I feel now that both sides have equal numbers. If it was just Mole-Rat lady? Then kill her and be done with it, but as events today have proven more than once, might, regrettably, makes right.

“Arguable, but let this Sovereign offer a compromise.” Striding out from what remains of the Defiled horde, Not-Gen’s green and silver Runic Armour is as pristine and polished as it was before the explosion, though how he managed it is a mystery for sure. Ringed by a dozen, black-armoured Demons, he looks the part of a young, Imperial Hero escorted by a cadre of elites, with a middle-aged monk by his side as his advisor.

Or is it a monk? He’s got the robes, but he’s not bald, with close cropped hair and a strange, hooked sword at his side. His face looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him...

While Not-Gen gives a lengthy speech on the glory of battle and whatnot, I lean back and nudge Masahige with my elbow. “The man standing at Gen’s side. You recognize him?” After a few seconds without an answer, I turn and find the lieutenant staring in a mixture of confusion and suspicion. “What?”

“Between the darkness and distance,” he whispers, eyes darting between Gen and myself, “I can barely make out their figures, much less recognize a face.”

...Weird. Turning back towards the Defiled army, I focus my gaze on the stragglers still moving into formation and note most are Northerners, as evidenced by their crude outfits which mostly consists of fur-lined leather wraps held together with pointy bone buttons. There are plenty of Western Defiled in the mix too, including a sizable detachment of gajashia-mounted heavy cavalry, but aside from that, it’s pasty-white northerners or native Western Imperials who were turned, either before or after the Wall fell. Turning back to Masahige, I ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have terrible eyesight, would you?”

“Sharper than most,” he replies without missing a beat. “Started out as a scout before moving up to Lieutenant.”

...Huh. What’s the deal with my vision then? It didn’t occur to me before Masahige brought it up, but I don’t think humans can see so far away, especially not in such dark conditions, but all I need to do is squint a little and everything is clear as day. Every scowl, grimace, scar, and blemish stands out to my amber eyes, and I can even make out the seams where flesh and metal merge as one on Not-Gen’s creepy half-Demon body. Is it genetics, or is it another unconscious usage of Chi, like when I saw through Kukku’s Concealment? Maybe both?

“What do you think, boy?”

Guan Suo’s unexpected question catches me by surprise and it takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up with what’s been said. It essentially boils down to having the Divinities bring their fight elsewhere while Not-Gen and I stand at the half-way mark between the Defiled Army and Sinuji’s wall, about one kilometre away from each side. He calls it a gesture of good faith, when in reality, it’s more like we’re being held hostage so the Divinities feel safe enough to actually leave, though why our two lives matter more than any others, I couldn’t say. Then, once the heavy hitters are all gone, Not-Gen and I will just saunter back to our respective sides so that ‘the mortal battle for Sinuji might begin anew’, as he so passionately articulates.

Not a terrible idea, so long as the Divinities are down for it and the Defiled keep to their word. Doubt it’ll happen, but from all the Sendings I’m getting, most noisily from Watanabe and emphatically from Kuang Biao, I don’t seem to have a choice. “I’m not against this plan, but it’s hardly equal circumstances,” I reply, more thinking out loud than answering. “I’m crippled and he’s a half-Demon abomination of nature that can kill me with a flick of his fucked up fingers.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Guan Suo repeats my answer almost word for word, which makes me wish I’d been more diplomatic with my phrasing. Plus, now it sounds like I’m afraid to meet him, and while I am, it’s never something you want to admit during negotiation.

“Bring a Peak Expert guard then,” Not-Gen replies, forgoing this obvious chance to humiliate me. “Bring two if you are still not reassured. I trust the honour and integrity of the Empire’s Number One Talent.” Ah, there it is, just a little later than expected.

“I trust you too.” Again, Guan Suo repeats my words, and this time I make them count. “I trust you to be true to what you are, like I trust the snake to bite and the scorpion to sting. But, if the Imperial Divinities are in accordance with this plan of action, then I will gladly play my part.”

Not really, but between Watanabe and Kuang Biao, I’ve no choice but to go along with this insanity. I guess the Legate really wants to sacrifice this pawn, though to what end, I still don’t know. Maybe he’s upset about spending all that money on tofu pudding, but it’s not like I made him do it. Instead of asking Kuang Biao for an explanation I know he won’t give, I stand in silence while he arranges for my transportation, and my heart breaks as Ghurda rides up the wall atop Zabu and dismounts so I can take her place. I mean, it makes sense for me to ride out rather than be carried on a palanquin, but if I’m to die here tonight, I’d much rather spare my loyal, ornery quin the same fate. “Sorry old friend,” I whisper, rubbings his cheeks and smiling as he closes his eyes and snarls in response. Not because he doesn’t like the cheek rub, but because that’s what all quins do when you touch their whiskers. I could totally avoid them if I wanted to, but I like how this makes him look adorable and ferocious at the same time. “This might be our last ride together, but I’ll do what I can to get you back to your pups.” Giving Ghurda a nod and a smile, I add, “Thanks for bringing him up.” Zabu’s not big on trusting strangers and if Alsantset were here, I’m pretty sure she’d make a big fuss about coming along. I can’t let her take that risk since it wouldn’t be fair to Charok and the twins, but I also can’t tell Alsantset what to do, so it’s for the best that she didn’t show up. “So Kuang Biao, which one of the Death Corps are we bringing along?”

“None,” Ghurda replies, giving me a fond swat on the back of the head. “You thought I rode all this way just to deliver a quin? I look like an errand girl to ye? I’m coming along, ye daft fool. I brought you home once before, and I mean t’do it again.”

How touching. Problem is, even if every former member of the Iron Banner were present in Sinuji and came along to keep me safe, I still don’t think it’ll be enough to make a difference. “I appreciate the offer, but –”

“But nothing.” Cutting me off with a wave of her hand, the burly, half-bear woman hefts her wicked axe and grins. “Ain’t an offer. I’m tellin’ ye how things are. Number One Talent or not, I’ll still put ye across me knee if you think ye can order me about.” Switching to Sending, she nods towards Not-Gen and adds, “Yer sister’d be here in my place if that creature out there weren’t so dangerous. Good head on her shoulders that one, and she says to tell ye you best come back alive, or else ye’ll regret it.”

Only Alsantset would threaten me to stay alive. The weird thing is, now I’m worried about what she’ll do if I don’t.

Chuckling at the absurdity of it all, I climb onto Zabu’s back with Ghurda’s help and give Guan Suo a helpless shrug. “Err, guess I’ll be off then.” Unsure how to properly frame it, I add, “Don’t die. Oh right!” Brain derp. Pulling my last two gourds of Water Chi out of my belt, I toss one to Guan Suo and the other to GangShu, mostly because the Abbot needs both hands to keep drumming on his wooden fish, though I don’t really understand why that’s so important. Maybe he’s like Luo-Luo and likes to dance fight. Who knows. “Just in case... err. The Abbot can explain.”

“Much obliged.” To my surprise, GangShu actually sounds like he means it, and as I take in his strained voice and stiff joints, I realize how nervous he really is. Guan Suo and the Abbot seem like pretty heavy hitters, so it’s entirely possible the Azure Ascendant is the weakest one here, maybe even weaker than the Mole-Rat lady, who now that I think about it, probably isn’t weak at all, what with the whole raising mountains bit. I need a scouter to tell me power levels or something, this shit is getting too complicated to keep track of. “If I don’t come back, then promise you’ll look after my people? All of em, mind ye,” GangShu adds, looking off to the north east for some strange reason. “Not just me two boys. The others got plenty of old grudges to handle without me to safeguard em.”

It’s touching that he cares, but I don’t know how I feel about inheriting a group of troublesome bandits. OuYang Yuhuan became the number one Runic Craftsman of the North by killing off the competition, and I can only imagine what sort of trouble Lei Gong and the others got themselves into, but... “Yea, I’ll look after them, though I doubt I’ll be of much use.”

“More than ye know.”

Turning to Guan Suo, I stand and wait to see if he has any requests, but he just shoos me away like a child who doesn't want to leave for school. As for the Abbot, he doesn’t even look my way, his intense glare fixated on Zhu Chanzui in the distance, and I totally understand. Considering he spends most of his time repressing his anger and trying to be a better man, he probably has decades of unresolved anger locked deep inside, and now that the dam is broken, he doesn’t know how to handle it well. “Abbot,” I say, bowing to him as a monk would, with hands pressed together and eyes down. “Anger is a tool to use, not a master to obey. The pig deserves death, but be wary not to underestimate him as others have.” Others like Mahakala, who was stronger than the Abbot and still lost to the Immortal.

Honestly, that’s so much better than ‘the Undying’. Makes me sound like a human punching bag or something. ‘Don’t worry, he’s the Undying, you can hit him all you want’.

Having postponed my departure for as long as humanly possible, I throw out one last encouraging quip of, “Fight well and return victorious,” before directing Zabu to hop off the wall. Eager to do battle after long weeks of sitting around, he lets loose with a long, piercing squeak as he dashes across the barren, rocky firebreak of Sinuji. Beside us, Ghurda and Kuang Biao have no issue keeping up on foot, zipping along faster than any human has any right to run without so much as breaking a sweat. Honestly, I’m not even sure if I can call it running, seeing how it’s more of a long-distance, low-altitude jump, with their feet barely leaving the ground as they soar through the air a dozen metres at a time.

Cool trick, though I doubt I’ll ever get a chance to learn it. Even if I survive today, the life I’ve lived makes old age seem like an unattainable dream. At least I didn’t marry Lin, Mila, and Yan yet. They’ll all bounce back from this and marry someone else, Luo-Luo too, though I’d prefer if it was to different people. Or would it be better if they all married the same guy, so I have less competition in the next life?

At our destination, Not-Gen greets us atop his gajashia with a patient but mocking smile, having set out as soon as I agreed to meet up. Alone and unguarded, he makes for a striking and courageous figure one might almost respect, if one didn’t know he was actually an eight-hundred year old body-snatching monster. Holding up a clawed hand to tell me I’ve come close enough, he stops us about ten-metres away, close enough so we can chat without shouting, but far enough so he can react if Kuang Biao or Ghurda attack him. “So we meet again, young Devourer.” Making a big show of studying my feeble frame, he chuckles and asks, “Still playing games, are we? Foolish child, but you will learn in time. Politics are for the weak. It’s much easier to negotiate from a position of strength.”

What the fuck is he talking about? “Zhen Shi.” No need to be coy about it. I know who he is now. “So what now? We sit around and gab until the survivors come back?” Shrugging, I add, “Torture anyone famous recently?”

Why did I ask that? I don’t want to know.

“Good, good,” he replies with a grin, not at all bothered by my flippant discourtesy. “This Sovereign grows weary of all the lies and deception, but needs must and such.” Eyeing the bewildered Kuang Biao with obvious disdain, he scoffs and continues, “A shame you brought along this Imperial dog. His presence offends this Sovereign, standing so close to a beast content to dine on whatever excrement the Emperor throws him.” Turning his attention to Ghurda, he looks her strapping frame up and down with marked interest, even though her arm is almost as thick as Gen’s waist. “This one... how curious. This Sovereign senses a hint of the Truth upon her, but not firsthand. No, she is too rigid and simple-minded, her will bound by dual constraints of honour and duty, so who does she know that walks in the shadows?” His pupils dilate and eyes unfocus for all of a second before returning to normal, happening so quickly it’s over as soon as I notice. “Ah yes... the young wolf. Promising, that one. He will make for a fine companion, so much rage and potential. I will speak to him personally and guide him along the Path, then he shall ride at my side as we topple the Empire, together.”

Between Zhen Shi’s omniscience and Ghurda’s throaty growl, my neck hairs are ready to abandon ship. Weathering the formidable Bannerwoman’s ire easily enough, his hateful smirk a perfect imitation of Gen’s own which makes me want to shove his face into the dirt and stomp on the back of his head.

...

Is it an imitation if it’s Gen’s own reaction? “You’re not in complete control, are you?” The question slips out before I can think better of it, but Zhen Shi’s response tells me everything I need to know, eyes widening as he leans away from the accusation and throws up a Sound Barrier to isolate us from Ghurda and Kuang Biao. Surprised and defensive. I’m right, or at least I’m not wrong. “How much of you is Zhen Shi and how much is Gen? Sixty-forty at least, or you would’ve abandoned this as a failed effort. No, with how meticulously anal you are about things, sixty-forty is too low. Eighty-twenty at least, but even that minuscule resistance is enough to irk you. I see it now, the grand, long-winded speeches, the comical arrogance...” Giving Zabu the lightest of touches, I urge him forward a single step and am rewarded with an almost panicked retreat as Not-Gen flinches away. “The fear. He’s still in there, his personality bubbling to the surface despite your best efforts to suppress it.” Smiling as I settle back into my seat and prepare myself for the worst, I add, “Eight hundred years of experience, yet the infamous Zhen Shi still can’t even control a common farm boy. How disgraceful.”

Barely able to control his reaction, Not-Gen’s rage is apparent even to the soldiers on the wall, but aside from clenching his bladed hands and trembling in mute fury, he makes no move to refute my claims. Not sure how useful this information might be, since I’m not even certain there’s only one Zhen Shi. It’s entirely possible I’m looking at Gen’s body being puppeted by a Natal Soul, a snapshot of the original which has since been... corrupted, for lack of a better word, by Gen’s personality. I mean... Mahakala did say my Natal Palace diving ability wasn’t entirely unheard of, and I can’t think of any other way to take over someone else’s body.

If I dove in too, could I fight Zhen Shi for control? Maybe it’s not Gen who’s afraid of me, but actually Zhen Shi himself...

Debating whether or not I should tackle the half-Demon Not-Gen, the decision is made for me as Zhen Shi straightens up with a smile, his anger melting away in an instant. “You’ve been studying this Sovereign’s work. How delightful.” This time it’s my turn to poorly conceal my reaction, and I inwardly grumble about sharing so much in common with a creepy psychopathic torturer. “A clever child to read so much from my scrawls, a more worthy successor than any this Sovereign has come across in his centuries of existence. Is this how you came upon your new Path? Through inspiration from this Sovereigns words? How fascinating. Pray tell, which experiments in particular led you to the conclusions you made? Was it perhaps 1792? No, that would not be enough on it’s own, but combined with 7485 and 11548, as well as a minor misinterpretation of 616 and 1610, then this Sovereign could see how one might arrive at such a unique interpretation. Then there’s...”

While Zhen Shi rambles on like a crazed comic book fan, I wrack my memory for the experiments mentioned, though the only one that stands out is the first experiment he listed off, 1792. That’s the experiment where the test subject from the previous experiment turns into a Demon and starts fucking things up, but I have no idea what those other experiments were about. I’ll take another look at 616 and 1610, but I’m pretty sure the books end well before 11548, or even 7485, which means there are more volumes than the ones in Fu Zhu Li’s collection.

Also, what does he mean, new Path? When the fuck did that happen? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere?

“Enough.” Cutting Zhen Shi’s rambling short, Ghurda steps through the Sound Barrier and puts herself between Not-Gen and me. “The Divinities be long gone by now, and we ought to do the same. Sooner this fight starts, the sooner I get to bury me axe in yer skull.”

“Wait!” Visibly flustered, Not-Gen’s gajashia moves a few steps forward before he reins it back, undecided if he wants to get closer or not. “Join this Sovereign, and he will spare your people, all of Sinuji if you so desire it.” Eyes burning with desire, he Sends, “Do you not see it too? We are two kindred minds, you and I. Join me, and together, we will lead humanity into a new era of greatness, one free of the restraints imposed by the Imperial Clan. Know this, should the Emperor learn of your heresy, he will not offer you mercy as this Sovereign does. No, he will kill you and all you hold dear to ensure your secret dies with you. Mine is the hand of mercy, young Devourer. Do not reject it lightly.”

Instead of answering, I study his hesitant posture for long seconds before asking, “Why are you so afraid?”

Flinching at the question, Not-Gen’s face wavers between determination and reluctance before cautiously answering, “Accept this Sovereign’s offer, and the answer will soon become apparent.”

Finally, the light-bulb turns on and the pieces fall into place. “Yea... you’re not Zhen Shi,” I say, dismissing him with a wave of my hand while turning Zabu away to leave. “Not entirely, but even if you were, my answer would be the same.”

Because now I know why Zhen Shi, the real Zhen Shi, sent not one, but two armies to Sinuji just to take my life.

He’s afraid of me, afraid of my power. Whether it’s my ability to Devour or this new Path he speaks of, he’s worried about what I might do if given time to develop.

Which means not only is there hope for my recovery, there’s a way I can recover quickly enough to prove an immediate threat to his plans.

...

Now if only I knew how...

Chapter Meme