The Truth merely exists as is, there for each of us to see and interpret in our own unique ways.

Even now, days after hearing it, Min Gyu found these words of wisdom utterly enthralling. It was one thing to say each must walk their own Path, but for years, he struggled to explain why this must be until hearing how young Rain framed the reasoning so perfectly. It was not so much that the Dao changed from person to person, but that every individual experienced the Dao differently due to differing perspectives. Take for example the Classics of Poetry, which many Martial Warriors used to explore the Dao, seeking meaning in the works contained within. To the layman, the poems were meaningless nonsense, but to a properly educated scholar, they were a glimpse into another time.

Take the first poem, Clear Temple:

Solemn is the Clear Temple,

Reverent are its illustrious adherents.

Dignified are the gathered officers,

Adhering to the virtues of Nobility.

Praising our Mother in Heaven,

They Hurry swiftly into the temple.

Greatly illustrious, greatly dignified,

She safeguards Her children forevermore.

The first time Min Gyu read this poem, he was a pampered boy of twelve, memorizing the Classics of Poetry to recite in a children’s competition which for reasons still unknown to him were all the rage. Back then, the poem meant nothing to him, and he dismissed it as the flowery ramblings of a man long dead who had nothing better to do than wax poetic about religious services. Now, almost a full century later, Min Gyu was no longer that same fresh-faced innocent boy, a child who dreamed of winning the poetry contest so that his father might smile and pat his head. That boy grew up into a romantic fool who ran away from home to hide from the shame and pain of heartbreak and duplicity. The romantic fool became a wandering vagabond who relied on his saber to make a living, traveling from city to city as caravan guard, Oath-Bound courier, and sometimes even hired thug just to earn his keep. That wandering vagabond then coincidentally saved the life of a young noble, whose family rewarded him by sponsoring him as a Third-Grade Warrant Officer, then sending him away to war over a misunderstanding with the family’s youngest daughter.

And there in the heat of battle, the reluctant soldier grew into a true Martial Warrior, leading comrades and subordinates into battle after battle as he grew into a hero of renown. For years, he strode across the battlefield as the Sanguine Tempest, a man who snatched victory from the jaws of defeat at the Hoplesh Rebellion thirty years after his debut battle, for which he was promoted to an Exarch of the Empire, a Peak Expert free of obligation and duty whose heroics were an inspiration to all. These were the best of times until his trials and tribulations brought him low, leaving him as an aged cripple in so much pain and misery he had to keep his mind dulled with Dream Smoke just to endure it.

It was this man, this feeble, drug-addled cripple who picked up the Classics of Poetry once again, more out of anger than anything else. The book was a gift from Colonel General Shuai Jiao, one presented to Min Gyu to congratulate him on his ‘promotion’ to Lieutenant General. Back then, he thought the Colonel General meant to mock him, for anyone with eyes knew Ming Gyu’s promotion was a gilded exterior hiding a ruined interior. Such was life. Despite all his heroic contributions, the plain truth of the matter was that Min Gyu was no longer worthy of calling himself an Exarch of the Empire, a title reserved for only the most inspiring heroes of all who steadfastly refused to enter Military Service.

Caught in a storm of bitter rage and indulgent self-pity, Min Gyu almost threw Shuai Jiao’s gift into the fire, but then he noticed something, an obvious detail he should have seen right away. The book was a plain and modest affair, bound in goat leather with the title inked onto the cover in tidy, unembellished script. It was not the brushwork of a professional calligrapher, but that of a man who wrote to be understood, and it was then Min Gyu realized where he’d seen that handwriting before. His hands shaking from surprise, he opened the book and found a personal message for him on the first page from Shuai Jiao, encouraging him not to give up hope and proving that this copy of the Classics had been scribed by the Colonel General himself.

It was this touching gesture which convinced Min Gyu to read through the classics once more, and though Shuai Jiao’s efforts failed to keep him from devolving into a drug-addled mess of a man, it was also his inspiration to continue along the Martial Path. When he read over the first poem, ‘Clear Temple’, he could still remember most of it from memory, but the words spoke to him in a way he never experienced before. This was because he was an entirely different person from the one who read it first, having experienced a lifetime of weal and woe in the time since. No longer were these stanzas the ramblings of a scholar with nothing better to do, but the lament of a man facing mortality and laughing at how he rushed headlong into death while ignoring that which truly mattered. Reverence, dignity, and nobility were naught but empty words upon the wind, and the author realized this when faced with impending death.

Such was Min Gyu’s interpretation of the poem, and while he didn’t entirely agree with it, the message was haunting and poignant. What he failed to learn from this was summed up perfectly by young Rain’s rebuttal to the Bristleboar Divinity, that the Truth merely exists as is, there for each of us to see and interpret in our own unique ways. In this instance, Truth meant the Dao, for the Dao is present in all things, but each person perceives it differently. It was like the parable with the blind men trying to determine what sort of creature an elephant was through touch alone, with all three arriving at different conclusions. The first touched an ear and proclaimed the creature a bird. The second touched the nose and proclaimed the creature a snake. The third touched a tusk and proclaimed the creature a boar. Working on incomplete information, they all came to different, erroneous conclusions, when anyone who could see the entire beast could tell it was an elephant. Martial Warriors were like the three blind men, only able to understand a small part of the whole, so while the Truth remained immutable, it was inevitable for Martial Warriors to arrive at erroneous conclusions due to limited perspective.

However, what he failed to account for was the simple fact that perspectives changed. While Min Gyu did not dare say he knew enough to understand the Dao in its entirety, he knew more today than he knew yesterday or a hundred years ago. If this was the case, then why was he so reluctant to review what he knew of the Dao? Because he’d seen countless promising talents destroy themselves with doubts and apprehensions, but if Du Min Gyu’s Dao was so weak as to crumble apart from introspection, then it was not a Dao worth pursuing. This was his conclusion after a mere five days of discussion with young Rain, and it was a radical about face from what he would have argued before. Min Gyu had no Mentor to guide him along the Martial Path, his lessons learned in the heat of battle or through Insights bestowed by the Heavens. Because of this, he firmly believed that others could do the same, but Rain’s arguments destroyed his logic saying, “Talent exists for a reason, one I cannot explain. The purpose of this discussion is to devise a means to better teach the untalented.”

Which in a sense, was also Min Gyu’s aspiration. He believed every Martial Warrior alive had within them the potential for greatness, and he dreamed of being the one to uncover it. As ‘Great Teacher’ Du, he had no lesson plans to follow or resources to refer to, and he guided his students along with the greatest care so as not to unduly influence their choices and lead them down a dead-end path. Slowly but surely he learned how to teach without imposing his viewpoints onto his students, and how to lecture without coloring their perceptions. In his learned opinion, a teacher’s job is to open their students’ eyes to the myriad of possibilities within the Martial Path, while a Mentor’s job was to safeguard their Disciple from reaching the same erroneous conclusions so many others had made before. Training a Martial Warrior was a game of half-truths and subtle hints which Min Gyu played well, but young Rain’s method of brute force questioning also had its merits.

Unfortunately, when Min Gyu tried to bring up poetry with young Rain, all he received for his efforts was a blank stare and a polite suggestion that he would be better served speaking to Li Song or Zheng Luo instead. Thus he had no choice but to follow the boy’s lead and take part in his aimless debates. It wasn’t easy, as this sort of open discussion wasn’t for everyone, and even Min Gyu himself might have been ruined if they tried this only a few years earlier. After losing Jin Kai, regaining full function in his crippled leg, adopting little Yan, and accepting Kyung as a part of his family, Min Gyu was a changed man yet again, and he had a whole new perspective on life that helped him come to grips with young Rain’s progressive arguments.

Today, Min Gyu had longer than usual to debate with young Rain on the Dao, as they journeyed together in the boy’s carriage while the army marched towards the front lines. Being the highest ranking officer present, young Rain offered him command of the army, but Min Gyu declined as he’d long since come to terms with his lacking abilities. Akanai was more than capable enough to command the reinforcements, and this freed Min Gyu to protect Yan and Kyung once they were all reunited on the battlefield, though from what he could tell, his grandchildren were doing well enough without him. Kyung was coming into his own as a force to be reckoned with, a Peak Expert who could match Chieftains and Demons alike, while Yan was proving herself as a contender for the title of Number One Young Talent in the Empire. The matter was still up for debate, but Min Gyu believed the title currently belonged to young Sumila of the Bekhai, though others would disagree solely because of her gender, background, and half-beast heritage. It didn’t matter though, for it was difficult to argue against the girl’s overwhelming strength and talent, but Yan was not so far behind her sister-wife as to be out of the running. Though lacking a Natal Palace, Min Gyu’s granddaughter was head and shoulders above her rivals when it came to comprehension of a Domain, so her progress would accelerate quickly once she surmounted the obstacles directly in her path.

Fortuitously, the topic of today’s discussion also had to do with Natal Palaces and their significance in the Martial Dao, and as always, young Rain was a font of interesting information and thought-provoking questions. There he sat across from Min Gyu, his right hand atop the Divine Turtle’s shell to keep her from falling out the carriage as she rode with her body half-out the window, and his left arm wrapped snugly around the slumbering Mei Lin nestled happily in his embrace. With Mama Bun snoring fitfully in his lap, young Rain wore a tired smile on his face, watching his sweet ‘wifey’ sleep and nuzzling the little cloud chaser hare resting atop her head while overturning Min Gyu’s understanding the Martial Dao itself with but a few simple words.

How… infuriating.

“Going by your law of conservation of mass,” Min Gyu began, a law he still didn’t entirely understand because Rain himself didn’t understand it, “And our observations of how we gather Heavenly Energy to convert into Chi, I agree with your speculation that the Core exists outside the ‘closed system’ that is our universe. However, the rest…”

Trailing off at the end because he couldn’t put together a coherent denial, Min Gyu shrugged and threw his hands into the air. While doing so, his elbow bumped his armrest and a small, squeaky growl emitted from within, the red panda none too pleased about having his slumber disturbed. No doubt it was baring fangs and flexing claws from within the comfortable confines of the hollow armrest, one built to house Mama Bun’s considerable bulk which gave the red panda plenty of room to stretch and sleep in private. Putting the mystery of Guan Suo’s supposed reincarnation aside, Min Gyu waited with bated breath as young Rain struggled to come up with a better way to frame his statement, one which had far-reaching implications if true.

“Look,” Rain began, speaking softly so not to disturb his wifey, hare, or rabbit. “I’m not a hundred percent sure about it, but it makes sense. The Core is situated in the Void. The Natal Palace is situated in the Core. When we utilize our Domains, the Natal Palace, and by extension, the Core, emerges from the Void and materializes in the world. Do you agree with these statements thus far?”

Never one to rush to conclusions, Min Gyu thought the statements through before shaking his head. “Rather than materialize, which implies a physical presence, it is better to say it manifests instead. Even then, the Natal Palace is only visible to the Martial Warrior in question, so the externalization of the Natal Palace is a matter of some debate. It’s been argued that this manifestation is merely a representation of a Martial Warrior’s desire for familiarity, to fight with a ‘home-ground’ advantage, so to speak, and that aside from the personal effect it might have on a Warrior’s morale, there is no benefit to this manifestation.”

“I agree with the word choice, but not on the lack of benefits.” Rain said, answering so quickly Min Gyu felt like his explanation had been disregarded, but this was merely how the boy was, quick on the draw and stubborn as a mule. “I believe there is a purpose in the manifestation of the Natal Palace, but as to what that purpose might be, I only have suspicions. That’s a discussion for another time though, since it has more to do with Domains and today’s topic is Natal Palaces. As long as you agree that manifestation occurs, then we can move on for now.”

Though Min Gyu did agree, he did not agree with the boy’s approach to the Dao. He’d felt uneasy about it for some days now, but here and now, he finally identified what it was about the boy’s methods which bothered him so. “You do this quite often,” he said, careful to keep his tone neutral to avoid implying fault or criticism. “You break each problem down into verifiable facts without a care for nuance or exceptions. Then, you put those facts together to come up with a working theory, which you test by checking if your theory still holds true in the grand scheme of things. If so, then you proceed forward on the presumption that your theory is correct, only to arrive at yet another unproven theory, and another, and another, all of which is built upon your initial theory.” Seeing the boy nod along as if nothing were out of the ordinary, Min Gyu furrowed his brow and asked, “What if, Heaven’s forbid, one day, your initial theory is proven incorrect?”

Because regardless if young Rain cared to admit it or not, the entire Martial Dao was built upon faith, and his faith simply came in the form of faith in his deductive reasoning. If he were ever to be proven wrong, then it was entirely possible his faith would come crumbling apart, for this was the Dao they were discussing, the foundation of a Martial Warrior’s strength, and few would care to base their foundation on something as flimsy as a theory.

Young Rain however, was made of sterner stuff than even Min Gyu expected. “Then I start over from the beginning,” he replied with a smile, as if the prospect didn’t bother him even in the slightest. “That’s how it is sometimes, but I feel like you’re too hung up on the word, ‘theory’. Yes, I call it a theory, but only because I lack the ability to prove my theory beyond all doubts. However, proof isn’t necessary so long as the facts the theory is established upon remain correct. Let’s take er… baking, for example. I have no idea what yeast is. I have no idea why it’s needed to make bread rise in the oven. I don’t know how yeast does what it does, or why it’s even necessary, but none of that matters. What I do know is that if I take equal parts water and flour and stir it together, eventually, it’ll turn into yeast. I also know that if I add that yeast to my dough, it’ll turn into nice, fluffy bread in the oven. I can’t explain how any of that happens, so I can’t claim that this will always happen when baking bread, because I can’t prove it will under any and all circumstances. Maybe there’s a type of flour out there that’s missing what’s needed to make yeast. Maybe the water contains something vital to the creation of yeast, and a different source of water will cause it to fail. Maybe there’s yeast out there that won’t make bread rise. One could say my method for baking bread is merely a theory, because I cannot put to rest all doubts about yeast and bread, but the important thing is that the theory is a working one. Thus, if my end goal is to bake fluffy bread, then what does it matter if I don’t understand every step along the way, so long as I know enough to make bread?”

So taken aback by this peculiar, but coherent explanation, Min Gyu almost burst into laughter before catching himself at the last moment. All of this only reinforced his belief that young Rain’s Dao was based on science and verifiable fact, for the parts he discarded was just having faith with extra steps. “Very well then, boy,” he said, smiling widely at this clever young man. “We are in agreement, and you may continue on. The Core sits within the Void. The Natal Palace is situated in the Core. When we utilize our Domains, the Core and Natal Palace manifests. What next?”

“Well, we already previously agreed that the Core exists on a different plane of existence.” Waiting for Min Gyu’s nod, Rain continued, “So, if we’re manifesting our Natal Palace, does this mean we’re bringing another plane of existence into this one?”

With no better answer to give, Min Gyu stroked his beard with a smile and said, “Perhaps? I have no facts to disprove your claim, but you have no facts to back it either.”

“True. So it’s flimsy at best, or at worst, grasping at straws.” Disappointed by his lack of progress, the boy fell silent to consider the facts once more, and after a minute or two of pondering, he asked, “So every Martial Warrior has complete control over their Natal Palace, right?”

“To an extent.” Grateful to be back on familiar ground once more, Min Gyu explained, “The key to establishing one’s Natal Palace is to ensure as much of it remains fixed in permanence at all times. While a Martial Warrior can change their Natal Palace at will, without permanence, it is possible to enact change too easily with but a stray thought, making it no different from utilizing your imagination. Once the Natal Palace is fully Formed and entrenched firmly within the Core, the Dao takes root within, brought there by the Energy of the Heavens itself, which allows the Martial Warrior to explore the Dao from within their Natal Palace and practice their skills in an environment no different from the natural world, only with near limitless Chi.”

“So what you’re saying is that my Natal Palace follows the laws of nature because the Dao makes it so?” Blinking frequently as he was wont to do when struggling to grasp a concept, young Rain sat in stark silence for several minutes until he finally came upon a question to ask. “But… the Natal Palace is created through our imagination and willed into permanence through constant focus. If the process of gathering Heavenly Energy into our Core forces the laws of nature onto our Natal Palace, does this mean it’s impossible to have a Natal Palace with different laws? I can’t… I dunno, make a world with lower gravity or easily manipulated Heavenly Energy?”

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Surprised by the question, Min Gyu stopped to consider the answer carefully. “I suppose you could,” he reluctantly responded, wondering where young Rain came up with all these silly notions. “But it would require more constant effort from the Martial Warrior to ensure his established laws override those of the Dao, and I cannot imagine why you would want to do so. The purpose of the Natal Palace is to practice your manipulation of Chi, and the practice would not be of use if carried out under different circumstances, so you gain no benefit from changing the strength of gravity, or really, any other fundamental force.”

“Well, at the very least, it would let me test a few theories out, right?” Shrugging, the boy drifted off into thought once again, no doubt imagining the things he would do once his Natal Palace was whole once more. At least his daydreaming was mostly academic; more than one Martial Warrior had used their Natal Palace for more… sordid purposes, Min Gyu among them, but such was the burden of young men and women everywhere, barely able to think straight with their libidos flaring up at all times. Of course, the Natal Palace would eventually lose its appeal for these purposes, since no Martial Warrior in existence had the ability to manifest a fully independent entity capable of autonomous thought, and one could only indulge in masturbatory dreams for so long.

Then again, it’d been years since Min Gyu tried, and as he noted earlier, he was a different man now, with a different perspective on life. Perhaps later tonight, he could pay a visit to his Natal Palace and have an illicit meeting with the White Fox Divinity...

“Hey.” Drawing Min Gyu out of his shameful self-reflection, Rain asked, “Stray thoughts aside, you have full control in your Natal Palace, and your Natal Palace manifests when you utilize your Domain. Now, say you were able to fully materialize your Natal Palace instead of just manifesting it, to the point where it becomes real to others as well. Would this give you complete control over Heavenly Energy in the real world?”

The boy’s words sent a thunderclap reverberating through Min Gyu’s mind, and his thoughts raced to consider the implications. Though they began today’s discussion focusing on Natal Palaces, this question went far above and beyond Min Gyu’s meager comprehension of the Dao. However, there was a hint of truth in the innocent query that he could not shake, an insidious seed of knowledge that took root and grew with startling speed as he considered what he knew. Taking a page from the boy, he voiced his thoughts out loud, in hopes it might help them both arrive at the correct conclusion. “To Develop one’s Domain, it is first vital to become One with the World and be granted authority to wield one’s Chi within their personal sphere of influence. You know this already, but what I’ve never heard you mention is the intrinsic tie between Aura and the expression of Domain, for one might say they are… deployed in the same manner. The generally accepted definition of Aura is a metaphysical expression of courage or intimidation, whereas a Domain was in many ways an extension of Aura in that it is a metaphysical expression of authority bestowed by the Heavens.”

“Really?” For a moment, Min Gyu thought he’d managed to baffle the boy for once, but instead, he just nodded and said, “Yea, that makes sense. Honing my Aura was probably just a rudimentary form of Domain then, though it still doesn’t explain why no one else can do it either.”

Despite having agonized over the issue for several months now, Min Gyu had no useful answers to give. “Since you and the Divine Turtle have demonstrated the ability to express more with your Auras than courage and intimidation, Honed Aura may just be yet another facet of your Aural manipulation abilities.” An ability which quite possibly was the hallmark of a true Divinity’s Aura, if the Divine Turtle was any indication, but Min Gyu was not certain what this meant with regards to the boy.

“Mm. More unfamiliar territory again. Let’s get back on topic. Domains. The expression of authority you spoke of, that’s the authority to maintain possession of Chi outside of the Core, right?”

“Rather than maintain possession, it would be better to say Chi will not disperse into Heavenly Energy within one’s Domain unless it is expended in some way or another.”

“Then how do Martial Warriors without Domains use Chi externally? Like Yan. She doesn’t even have a Natal Palace, but she can use Wind Blades.”

The boy likely already knew the answer himself, and was only asking to ensure Min Gyu’s explanation didn’t deviate too much from his own. Not to catch him out in a mistake, but more so as not to colour his perception. “In Yan’s case, she lacks a Domain and Natal Palace, but she is able to manifest a micro-Domain of sorts, one limited to each unique use of Chi which holds until it has served its purpose.”

“Sort of like packaging it for delivery, or casing on a shell.” Nodding in agreement, the boy went back to his initial question before Min Gyu could ask what he meant by casing. “So a Martial Warrior’s Domain is an area in which they are granted authority by the Heavens. If Heavenly Energy was a river, your Domain would be the watermill built beside it, but what if we were to divert the river in order to build our watermill in a better location? That’s what I mean by materialization. The Domain takes Chi to maintain, so why not just... bring it into being and leave it in place, to make things more efficient?”

As far as Min Gyu could tell, this wasn’t possible, not with the way he understood Domains, but what if his understanding was wrong? If the Domain was a manifestation of the Core, and the Core existed in the Void, which itself was on a different plane of existence, then by bringing the Core out of the Void and into the real world, it was more akin to annexing the world rather than becoming one with it. This was no longer being granted authority, but seizing it, forcing one’s own creation upon reality to exert more control over Chi and perhaps even Heavenly Energy. An act which inherently felt wrong, like a gross violation of the laws of nature and blasphemy to the Mother Above, until Min Gyu remembered the next step, the elusive final milestone before achieving Divinity. Void Shattering. Knowing what he knew now, did this not mean breaking all barriers between the Core and the Heavens? To remove everything separating the self and the Divine, to materialize the Core and everything within in reality, which was exactly what young Rain was hinting at. Was it even possible to bring a personally manufactured plane of existence, into reality?

If so, then the person capable of such a miraculous feat could only be a Divinity…

“This question is beyond me.” Wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling hand, Min Gyu felt the foundations of his Dao coming apart beneath him, but it would not crumble just yet. At the end of the day, he was a man of faith and conviction, and he knew the Mother Above would never give him more than he could bear. This trial before him was a difficult one, but not impossible, no matter how imposing it might seem. Taking a deep breath, then another, he focused on young Rain once again with wary trepidation, noting concern in the boy’s warm, amber eyes. “Dangerous,” he whispered, patting young Rain’s cheek to reassure him. “I fear you’ve moved beyond what I can help you with.”

Although it was clear he didn’t understand Min Gyu’s trepidation, the boy accepted his statement without question and changed the topic to news from the war front. Having already committed the latest reports to memory, he listened with half a mind while clearing his thoughts and doing his best not to fixate on his earlier revelation. This world was the Mother’s creation, and to seize authority within was an unforgivable sin, or at least that’s how Min Gyu saw it. Regardless if he was right or wrong, his Dao would not allow him to test this line of thought, no matter how tempting it might be, so he resolved to seek out a different Path forward, one more in line with his faith.

In the end, all Paths lead to the Dao, so what young Rain chose to do was entirely up to him. If the Mother saw fit to let another seize control of a part of Her creation, then who was Min Gyu to argue otherwise? All he knew is that he, as a loyal son of the Mother, would never dare do such a thing, and that was the end of that, so there was no need to fixate on materializing his Core and Natal Palace.

The rest of the day’s march passed without incident, and they arrived at their campgrounds under the cover of night, almost eighteen hours after they first set out. The long march left their soldiers and draft animals tired and spent, but rushing now was better than rushing later. Castle JiangHu, where Hongji and his forces were currently holed up and under siege from the Defiled, was two-and-a-half day’s march from the Citadel, or thirty hours total. Having covered more than half the ground in a single day, young Rain’s forces could now afford to take a longer rest, travel at a steady, moderate pace, and still arrive at Castle Jianghu before nightfall the next day, just in time to lend aid to the beleaguered defenders. Defiled preferred attacking at night to take full advantage of their improved dark-vision, a boon the Mother’s children sorely lacked. Now that would be quite the feat to accomplish, if Rain could explain how Martial Warriors might replicate this particular feat, but alas, he had a tendency to focus on more ‘interesting’ problems, rather than practical ones which might actually make a difference.

Such was his way, one of boundless curiosity, and Min Gyu was certain that if given the option, young Rain would pay no mind to the Martial Path and focus wholly on whatever Path of animals and science his heart truly desired.

As the army made camp for the night, Min Gyu kept the boy company more out of habit than anything, playing the part of bodyguard as they made the rounds about camp to chat with officers and soldiers alike. Say what you will about his lacking manners, but young Rain knew how to win the hearts of soldiers, approaching them as congenially as he did when he was a mere unranked soldier, cracking jokes and offering friendly warnings as he passed. It was shocking to see how many names he remembered without the use of a Natal Palace, until Min Gyu realized the boy was cheating by having his clerk Send the names to him instead. MuYang was the man’s name, a deeply hidden Peak Expert who revealed himself as a Martial Warrior only six days ago, during the upheaval with Legate Jixing and the Bristleboar Divinity. On that fateful day, MuYang used his frightening Spiritual Spear to deliver what should have been a killing blow to the crazed Goujian from an astounding range, a blow which struck fear into the hearts of every Martial Warrior who noticed. A shame the shot didn’t kill the Bloody Confessor, and Min Gyu was curious to know how MuYang’s weapon worked, as he’d always been enamored by these sorts of specialty Spiritual Weapons, like his fan which was specially forged to help him control his Blessing of Wind.

Then again, there was something to be said about simplicity. How long had Min Gyu let his trusted saber sit idle, the weapon with which he cut his teeth? Perhaps this time, when the Sanguine Tempest returned to the battlefield, he would do so with both saber and battle-fan in hand…

Less than an hour after breaking for camp, the boy’s jaunt was cut short as he received word of a guest arriving, though who it might be was a mystery until they arrived at his yurt. It was a mistake to keep using this humble, if convenient, travel lodge rather than a properly regal tent, but there was no convincing Rain when his mind was already made up, professing it was too much fuss for a single person, even the Legate of the outer provinces. Outside the unremarkable leather pavilion stood a woman Min Gyu was only passingly familiar with, a bejeweled Peak Expert and Runic Craftsman by the name of OuYang Yuhuan, better known as the Tyrant of the Azure Ascendants. A beautiful woman of perhaps sixty years, she wore her age well and could easily be mistaken for a girl half her age, though her tendency to scowl had left unflattering lines around her eyes. Giving face to young Rain’s rank, she waited until they were all inside the privacy of his yurt before addressing him in a harsh tongue, though she looked plenty awkward doing so while seating herself on the floor. “Don’t think that you can command me to jump and come to you whenever you like, just because you’re Legate now,” Yuhuan began, and Min Gyu could see the boy’s repressed smile as they both inwardly noted that she had done exactly that. “You’re a client, same as any other, and I never guarantee success. I’m giving it my best effort, but you requested a brand new Rune which requires better precision and more efficiency than anything anyone has ever crafted before, so it will take time and coin before I can admit victory or defeat.”

“Oh good.” Defaulting to sarcasm as he so often did, the boy gave a half-smile and said, “And here I was worried you’d just stopped trying and kept billing me regardless.”

Pursing her lips at this pointed insult, the Tyrant swallowed her retort and accepted it without grace, no doubt worried by his new rank and the powers which came with it. Min Gyu was confident he could bring down the woman himself, though he would have to be wary of her many Runic items, as he’d heard tales of her dazzling displays during the Battle for Sanshu. Either way, as the most prominent Runic Craftsman of the North, it was likely her Martial Strength would be lagging behind, since a comprehensive genius like Falling Rain only came around once every ten-thousand years, if that.

“Relax,” the boy said, gesturing at the cup of tea he personally poured her, while Min Gyu left his own cup untouched. Let her wonder if the tea was poisoned and leave her even more unsettled. “I didn’t call you here because I’m angry at the lack of progress. I asked you here to see if I could help.”

Insults, the Tyrant could stomach, but this was a blow to her professional pride, and like any true master, she would not stand for this. “You?” Sneering at young Rain as she drew herself up to full height, Yuhuan scoffed in unmasked derision. “Stick to your games of finance and politics, and leave Runic Crafting to the professionals. Your Teacher, the Medical Saint, might be of use, or perhaps a Craftsman from the Imperial Clan, but you? What help can you offer me?”

“Not much,” Rain replied, unfazed by her obvious disdain. That was one good thing about the boy, he kept his ego in check most of the time, though the few times it shone through showed it to be a sizable one. “Teacher is obsessed with a new pursuit these days, and I have no access to Imperial Clan Craftsmen, else I’d have them working on this project as well. However, I recently learned about the value of differing perspectives, and I figured you might benefit from the same lesson.” Sipping from his own cup, which was poured from the same pot, Rain smiled and asked, “So why aren’t my Runic Cannons working yet?”

Bristling at the direct interrogation, Yuhuan shot young Rain a venomous look. “Runes are not so easily crafted, especially not one such as this.”

“Yea, precision and efficiency and all that. Why?”

“Why?”

“Why the need for precision and efficiency? I just want something to create an explosion powerful enough to send a solid steel ball hurtling through the air several kilometers, or at least one to start.”

Young Rain had previously explained the concept behind his cannons, but Min Gyu didn’t entirely understand it. It was certainly possible for a directed explosion to launch a projectile great distances if it was powerful enough, but if such a Rune were to be created, would it not be more efficient to use the Rune directly in combat? Heaving a familiar sigh, one Min Gyu often used when dealing with Rain’s insistence, Yuhuan grudgingly explained, “The issue is not creating a Rune of such power, but doing so without requiring more Chi than the average Peak Expert can provide, or allowing the Rune to go beyond what the cannon itself can handle. I could have it done today if you didn’t care for limits, but it would require so much Chi, I doubt anyone short of a Divinity could provide it, and he or she might kill themselves in the process.”

“Ah. Gotcha. I forgot to account for the different… propellant.” Pausing all of a second to think, young Rain asked, “Is it possible to draw Chi from multiple subjects? We could drain five Martial Warriors dry per shot and I still think it’d be worth it.”

“Theoretically? Yes, but I’ve no time or patience to explain why such a feat borders on the impossible.” Crossing her arms with a scowl, Yuhuan glared at the boy as if daring him to command her to answer, though it was clear she herself wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. Though old enough to be a grandmother, Yuhuan behaved like the young woman she appeared to be, an impatient, petulant sort who was used to being treated better than royalty. Between her talent, beauty, and frightening reputation, Yuhuan had likely never encountered someone who treated her as brusquely as young Rain did, and Min Gyu would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it.

At least he wasn’t the only one in danger of dying of frustration…

“Chi is bound to the individual and inviolable until it returns to Heavenly Energy,” Min Gyu explained, before young Rain could antagonize the Runic Craftsman any further. “So to gather Chi from multiple individuals to power a single Rune would be… troublesome.”

“Right, right, mixing souls and all that.” What the boy meant by this, even Min Gyu didn’t know, as there was little mention of souls in his Inspired notes, but sadly, young Rain was focused on the task at hand and had no intentions of explaining. “And I take it making a Rune that draws Heavenly Energy directly is not possible?”

“Were I capable of making such a Rune, then I would wield the power of a Divinity,” Yuhuan replied, and judging by her glare, Min Gyu suspected she would immediately use said power to smite the boy.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Cocking his head to one side, Rain sipped his tea and nibbled on a cookie in silence. Finally giving in to temptation, Yuhuan drained her cup in a single gulp before reluctantly pouring herself another cup, no doubt surprised by the lacking quality of the tea. Better leaves were wasted on young Rain, or so he claimed, and he preferred simple flavors without too much pretension. The cookies were a delight though, baked by young Charok, and Min Gyu enjoyed them while he still could. After polishing off several cookies in silence, the boy’s eyes lit up. “What about using a combination of Reverberation and Amplification? Start off with a smaller amount of force and build it up using the above skills. It would take some real precise timing, but since you’re making a Rune, it should be easy enough to automate since the timing won’t change so long as you keep all the variables the same.”

For once, Yuhuan had no haughty retort, and instead simply asked, “What?”

Min Gyu himself didn’t understand either, and it took several tries before the boy finally explained it in a way they both understood, likening it to a person on a swing. Only a minute amount of power was applied at certain times, that being the movement of the feet, yet after several repetitions, the swing would soar high into the air under its own momentum. Pursing her lips, the Tyrant muttered to herself out loud, working through the problem step by step. “So long as I can contain the ‘momentum’ and harness it in an instantaneous explosion, then theoretically…” Holding up a single hand, she slowly waved it from side to side in a curved, sinuous motion, driving her Chi to test young Rain’s theory and see if it would work as he described. Deploying his Domain to probe the Tyrant’s, Min Gyu felt the power gathering in her empty hand, slowly at first, but as each pass almost doubled the accumulated energy, her efforts soon accelerated beyond her control, causing her hand to wave back and forth so quickly it was barely more than a blur.

Then, with a crack of thunder, the Tyrant’s hand exceeded the speed of sound in a deafening retort, and the yurt came alive with Peak Experts.

“HOLD!” Rain shouted, in the too loud and off-key manner of someone who couldn’t hear. “Hold!” The audible command shot through Min Gyu, and though he could have still acted if he wanted to, if he were faced with this demand in battle, he feared he might hesitate before following through. Even if Rain never recovered full use of his Core, he could still wreak havoc on the battlefield by simply commanding the Defiled to stop, which should have the same effect as using his Honed Aura against Wu Gam. Or perhaps Oration wouldn’t work like that, but Min Gyu still wanted Rain to test it, though he would have to learn to control it first.

Shaken by her loss of control and the blades resting against her throat, OuYang Yuhuan sat in a shocked daze across from them, cradling her limp, bloodied hand and staring in wide-eyed trepidation at young Rain. “You… I… You…” She stammered, but Rain did not let her finish.

“It’s fine.” Waving for the guards to disperse, he said, “I know it was an accident. No harm, no foul. Kuang Biao, could you ask Tokta if he’s in the mood to Heal our guest? And if he isn’t, could you ask him to come anyways?” Pouring another cup of tea for the Tyrant, he gestured at Yuhuan’s hand and asked, “How bad is it?”

It took two cups of tea and three tries before she was able to speak. “B-Broken,” she whispered, eyes darting between Rain and Min Gyu. “How long have you known?”

“...Known what?”

Rain was every bit as confused as Min Gyu, and the Tyrant’s next words only confused them even more. “About the Mountain Collapsing Stomp.” Seeing their baffled expressions, Yuhuan regained a modicum of her haughty self and furrowed her brow in frustration. “Is this not the secret behind it’s power? A careful build up of force through well timed Reverberations and Amplification?”

“Is it?” Even as young Rain asked it, Min Gyu knew the Tyrant’s words to be true, and he almost bolted to his feet in excitement. Wholly unperturbed by this incredible discovery, the boy shrugged and said, “I dunno. I just came up with the idea. If it is Mitsue Juichi’s secret, then it seems like a terribly obvious one. I mean, how hard can it be? You lost control there at the end, but you still pulled it off pretty easily on your first try.”

Only Rain could be so dismissive of a Runic Craftsman’s control of Chi, for if Min Gyu were to try the same, he would undoubtedly fail on his first try, and continue to fail well past the thousandth. Yuhuan’s initial success was no doubt a result of years of Runic Crafting, and while she lost control of her power at the end, she grasped the timing with frightening ease, which made Min Gyu reconsider the threat she presented. A scalpel used correctly could kill just as well as a battleaxe, and required far less effort, and such superlative control of Chi would allow her to do more with less, sometimes to explosive effect.

Even better, Rain’s casual attitude struck a nerve in the Tyrant’s prideful demeanor. “I will continue to study this technique,” she said, before bowing her head ever so slightly out of respect for his genius, “And I will not share this secret with another soul, on pain of death. With the Heavens as my witness, this I so swear.”

With her hand already bleeding, the Oath was set, but young Rain frowned and shook his head in regret. “I wish you hadn’t done that. It wasn’t necessary. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have funded your projects and waited till now to speak with you.” On the contrary, Min Gyu believed the oath was necessary, for now, they knew the secret behind Mitsue Juichi’s Mountain Collapsing Stomp. Even then, it would take months, if not years of effort to replicate it, and longer to counter it, but there were plenty of Warriors in Rain’s camp who had the time to spare, and Min Gyu even saw potential in this for little Yan and her Blessing of Wind.

Because with the proper preparations and timing, she might one day truly live up to her new title as the Sanguine Storm and raze the battlefield with a tornado of her own devising. Forget Peak Expert, with this, little Yan might possibly wield the power of a half-step Divinity before the age of thirty…

Chapter Meme