The fight to retake Castle JiangHu’s outer wall would be a long and arduous process, but Zian relished the chance to hone his skills and push his limits.
Overhead, the Bekhai Khishigs and irregulars delivered a storm of bolts and arrows which kept the Defiled contained, while Zian led his retinue out into the courtyard to relieve the beleaguered defenders. These exhausted warriors were on the outer wall when it was overtaken and had since been fighting for their lives outside the inner gates. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion reflected in their slumped posture and slow, shambling pace, but mental as well, for the inner gates had remained closed and barred for the better part of an hour while they fought desperately to hold outside. Operational security dictated the gates were to remain closed and barred during battle unless the Commander of the Army gave a direct order in person, or through Sending with the appropriate password and response. No one else was allowed to open any gate on pain of death, but even though they all knew this, no soldier would appreciate being trapped outside while a horde of Defiled battered them without mercy.
Such was life for the soldiers staggering past him now, trickling back through the gates with as much haste as they could muster after their debilitating ordeal. Luckily for them, the Demons and Peak Experts had focused their efforts on the parapets of the inner wall, leaving the risky prospect of battering down the heavy steel gates and stone-reinforced doors to bog standard Chosen. Inside the massive gatehouse, the defending guards had a plethora of options to deal with any intruders who might make it past the gates, but if the Enemy made it that far, then the soldiers streaming through the gates now would have been considered lucky if they were slaughtered to the last man, for every living soul in Castle JiangHu knew what fate awaited them if they were ever taken alive.
There was a time when Zian would’ve stood idly by and ignored the dark looks and muttered grumbling directed towards him, for several reasons. First, he hadn’t been in command of the gate, so their ire was misplaced, though even if he were in command, he would not have opened them. Second, their animosity meant nothing to him, for he was Situ Jia Zian, Young Patriarch of the Situ Clan, so why should he care about the opinions of his lessers? Thirdly, he was only here to fix the error of their ways, so not only were these sour soldiers incorrect and insignificant, they were also incompetent to boot. Being failures on at least three counts, there was no point caring about the thoughts or opinions of these exhausted defenders, or at least, that’s what the Situ Jia Zian of yesteryear would have thought.
The Lu Jia Zian of today, however, was a different man altogether, not just a mere Warrior of the Empire, but a First Class Warrant Officer of the Imperial Army, a commander of five-thousand men, and one who could ill-afford to ignore these aggrieved soldiers. Unresolved resentment would fester and become detrimental to morale, but they were all Warriors of the Empire working together to overcome the Enemy, so it was high time he behaved like it. “Well fought, comrades,” he said, greeting the soldiers loudly, but without use of Chi, for he would need every bit of it soon enough. “Food, water, and Healers await you on the other side. Those of you who can, help those who need it, and await the good news as we set out to finish what your courage and perseverance has made possible.”
Though it felt silly to repeat himself, he did so anyways when enough soldiers had passed, echoing the same sentiments for others to hear. It amazed him how so small an effort could make such a startling difference, not just in the tired soldiers retreating to safety, but also in the warriors of his retinue readying to charge out across the courtyard and take the battle to the Enemy. As Zian expressed empathy and admiration for the tired soldiers, the warriors of his retinue stood taller and prouder as if he were speaking to them instead of these Central allies, and no matter how many times someone tried explaining it, Zian simply couldn’t understand why. They were proud of him, inspired even, for displaying the bare minimum of basic human decency. Then again, all his life, he’d been taught to hold himself above the common man or even the common Warrior, for such was the way of Heaven. Situ Jia Zian had been born into greatness, and as such, was expected to be better than lowly commoners, so perhaps this unexpected empathy was the reason for their good cheer.
A poisonous mindset, he realized this now, because not only did it encourage children of nobility to view themselves as better by sheer virtue of birth, it also discouraged the efforts of those born into less fortunate families, yet were nonetheless exemplary warriors or people.
Objectively, Zian had known these facts his entire life, he just never stopped to consider them until recently. Ironic considering how by noble standards, Zian’s lineage was only of middling prestige, since his father had been born to a common merchant family. Wealthy, but not overly so, and utterly powerless in matters of politics, while mother and Uncle Yang were the last scions of a branching Situ family tree on the cusp of being pruned. Since Uncle Yang was without child, their branch family would end there, solely because Zian no longer cared to keep the Situ name. He was Lu Jia Zian, and to go by any other name would be to lie to himself and the world at large. No longer would he be shamed into hiding his father’s ‘lesser’ family name, for Lu An Jing made his mark in the world despite his ‘lowly’ birth, and Lu Jia Zian intended to follow in his father’s footsteps as best he could.
This of course cost him the chance of ever becoming Patriarch of the Situ Clan, but that had never been his ambition. What he didn’t expect was how this move won him the support of so many Society adherents, lesser Clansmen and disciples of the various Society factions who flocked to his banner in droves, even as the Situ Clansmen abandoned him. More than a year ago, Jing Fei had warned him against changing his family name because doing so would turn him into a laughing stock. All around the Empire, nobles and commoners alike would gossip about the fool who threw away wealth and status to become a short-lived pauper, but while Jing Fei and Mother both still shared this opinion in defiance of the facts before them, Zian himself did not regret his decision one bit.
Yes, he was less wealthy now, but Mother was the Magistrate of a bustling trade city, the hub to Sanshu for every city in the northwest quadrant of the province. Even without her Magisterial Office, Rain provided Zian with a small fortune in the form of War Bonds, and while he still didn’t entirely understand the concept, Jing Fei and Mother jumped on the opportunity and made enough coin to fund his retinue for the next decade, if not longer. Best of all, by openly accepting his father’s legacy, Zian relieved himself of a burden of guilt he’d carried his entire life, because even though no one ever brought it up in his company and such things had been agreed upon long before he’d been born, Zian always felt like he let his father down by not taking the Lu family name.
And now, Lu Jia Zian was stronger than ever, for he’d finally found his place in life. He was no Young Patriarch, set to inherit responsibilities he had no interest in and play politics for the rest of his natural life. No, he was a Warrior first, a man whose purpose was to do battle against the Enemy, so it was upon the battlefield where he would make his name, just like his father before him.
As the last weary soldier marched through the inner gates, Zian signalled for the guards above to shut them before turning to address his retinue. “Lieutenant General Akanai has tasked us with retaking these outer gates before us,” Zian began, wishing he had Rain’s gift for... not necessarily eloquent or articulate, but poignant and impassioned speech. “Come, my fellow Warriors of the Empire. Our comrades bled and died to hold thus far, so do not let their sacrifice be in vain. Death to the Defiled!”
“Death to the Defiled!”
The battlecry was taken up by Zian’s retinue and echoed down the line, as other Officers led their troops out in pursuit of similar objectives. The entire outer wall had been seized in one fell swoop as Demons and Peak Experts took to the field in an unprecedented manner. Traditional strategy dictated that these most dangerous and precious of elites were to be kept in reserve unless absolutely necessary, because it took decades of hard work, dedication, experience, and luck to forge a Peak Expert of the Empire. However, the Enemy’s attack showed that traditional strategy no longer applied, for never before had the Empire faced the Enemy like this, united under one banner and in numbers so great, Experts seemed as common as cabbages. Why would they not deploy their Peak Experts in overwhelming numbers? Though a common Defiled tribesman was no match for an Imperial grunt soldier, a Defiled Peak Expert was every bit as dangerous as an Imperial one, and the Enemy had Peak Experts to spare. To make matters worse, there was a time when Demons were merely formidable but uncontrollable killing machines the Defiled followed into battle, but now, it was impossible to deny the fact that the Demons were no longer acting on mere instinct. There was a hand guiding their actions now, for where they once fought alone without regard for cooperation or self-preservation, now, they behaved like thinking, calculating warriors who took full advantage of their numbers and innate defences to effectively trade blows with the Peak Experts of the Empire. If one Demon was not enough, two or three would work together, even incorporating their Defiled Peak Experts into their plans while chipping away at the greatest Warriors the Empire had to offer.
To say the Empire’s fate was looking dire would be an understatement, but Zian cared not for the odds. He was the Twinned Dragon Scion, Lu Jia Zian, son of Lu An Jing and Situ Jia Ying, and Disciple to Jukai and Situ Jia Yang. That was his lineage, one he refused to shame, so he would fight until his last breath, or until the Defiled threat was no more.
Drawing only one of his two curved sabres, Zian fed emotion to the Void and led his soldiers to surge across the two-hundred metre gap between inner wall and battered outer gates. There, in the shadows of the reinforced gatehouse, the Enemy was sheltered from the deluge of death being delivered from on high, so it came down to sword and spear to clear them out. First to arrive, Zian stopped short his charge to avoid impaling himself on three Defiled weapons. Having baited his foes out of position, he executed Gliding Wing and cut across the front line of combatants, killing five Defiled with a single pass and freeing up space for his soldiers to support him. His expression frozen in a cold grimace of loathing, he set to his bloody work with zeal and conviction, putting his life on the line in order to progress along the Martial Path. If he had both sabres drawn, he would’ve charged headlong into the fray and relied solely on blocking, parrying, and Deflecting to keep him safe, working both his arms and weapons in a whirling ring of death and defence. With one sword however, Zian lacked the ability to do this, which was exactly why he left his second sabre sheathed across his back. This was a time of strife and struggle where heroes of the Empire were desperately needed, but a mere Domain-capable Expert and five-thousand man commander couldn’t turn the tides of battle by himself. While two sabres allowed him to fight better unaided, he was not a man alone on the battlefield, for he had his comrades and subordinates beside him, just as his father had so many loyal comrades beside him.
For as long as Zian could remember, he’d always been captivated by the sight of his father’s twin sabres, mounted over Mother’s bedroom mantle so far out of his reach. He was drawn to the sabres because he wanted a connection with the father he never knew, a yearning which drove him to train day and night even though Mother never encouraged him to take up the Martial Path and tried to teach him what she knew of politics and civic management. He knew now it was because she wanted to keep him out of the public eye and safe from the Situ Clan, or more specifically, the Patriarch Rang Min whom she suspected had a hand in her husband’s death. Unfortunately for Mother, there was too much of his father in Zian and he excelled at the Martial Path, his natural ambidexterity giving him a powerful advantage over all of his peers and allowing him to defeat Warriors two, three, even five years older than himself. Even Rang Min’s attempts to remove Zian from Mother’s protective sphere and ruin him with wealth and debauchery couldn’t bring him low, as he progressed easily along the Martial Path without need of a dedicated Mentor or even competent tutors.
Then, at nineteen, he single-handedly led his clansmen to victory at the Society Contests and forced Rang Min’s hand, leaving him no option but to declare Zian the Young Patriarch of the Situ Clan over his intended heir, his son, Gulong.
Blind to the politics involved, Zian remembered taking great pride in his accomplishments as a self-taught warrior, which he ungraciously held over the heads of his peers. Unfortunately for him, at the end of the day, he was still merely a talented young man rather than a once in a millennia genius. After Condensing his Aura at twenty-three and claiming the title of Number One Talent of the North, he embarked on a self-indulgent journey of lust and hedonism to celebrate. Six months later, he noticed that his progress had stalled while his rivals were quickly closing the gap, and as so many geniuses were wont to do, Zian’s fragile ego crumbled apart the moment he encountered hardship for the first time ever.
It was here his earlier actions came back to haunt him, for as a prideful young man, he couldn’t simply admit his wrongs and seek out a Mentor, no, he needed to maintain his reputation as a self-taught genius, unless his Mentor was someone so famous people would call him a fool for turning him down. Thus began Zian’s journey to find a Mentor ‘worthy’ of his genius, one which ended in failure, and eventually, defeat at the hands of Falling Rain.
A defeat Zian had come to cherish as the turning point in his life, for it drew Jukai out of retirement to support the son of the man he once called brother. If only Jukai had come out and said it the first time they’d met, then Zian would have better cherished their time together, but the older Warrior who’d aged before his time kept his past a secret because of a promise he made to Mother. To this day, she refused to tell him why she was so against him taking vengeance for his father, but it was easy to see she was terrified of losing her son as well. A good thing she didn’t keep Jukai away though, for it was his guidance which helped Zian Form his Natal Palace, and eventually, become One with the World to Develop his Domain.
And now, without Jukai here to guide him, Zian was lost once more.
Or so he thought, until a few days past when news of the standoff in the Northern Citadel arrived, detailing the appearance of Yang Jixing, Goujian the Confessor, and the Bristleboar Divinity. The talk of the castle was about Falling Rain’s ignoble past as a slave, and there was a time when Zian would have cut ties with his friend for this, but he was a changed man and could hardly care less about Rain’s origins. The measure of a man was not the blood flowing through his veins, but rather his actions in times of troubles and strife, and in this, there were few who were equal to Falling Rain. No, what drew Zian’s attention the most were the tales of how his heroic Uncle Yang fought valiantly against the Bloody Confessor, with his movements most eloquently described as a perpetual force of nature which pressed ever forward in a never-ending storm of attacks.
Using only a single sabre, because Uncle Yang never could get the hang of wielding two sabres at once.
This was the whirling ring of death and defence which Lu An Jing was famed for, a tactic Uncle Yang learned for the sole purpose of imparting it to Zian. He still remembered those arduous training sessions, when Uncle Yang would call upon his guards to surround Zian and beat him bloody with their shields, forcing him to learn how to defend himself from all angles without thinking. A thoroughly unpleasant learning experience, but hard work and dedication paid off in spades once he picked up the skill. Over the course of many battles, Zian perfected this style of offensive defence, or so he thought until a few days past when Uncle Yang demonstrated the same style while wielding a single sabre. Now, a seed had been planted in Zian’s mind, for if he could master this single-sabre style like Uncle Yang, then he could dedicate one hand for defence and utilize the other hand independently for offence, rather than having to dedicate both to defence or offence at the same time.
Zian was no genius, he realized this now. He was merely fortunate enough to inherit his father’s penchant for dual-wielding, a skill many never truly mastered but came easily to him, and doubly fortunate to have two exemplary father-figures like Jukai and Uncle Yang in his life. The former taught him the frailty of genius, and the latter showed him the value of hard work, and without either one, Zian would not be the man he was today.
Fixed in the throes of Balance, he surged into the packed mass of savage Defiled with sabre in hand and cut his way into the gatehouse, utilizing flawed movements of the Forms which were imperfect in execution but perfectly suited for his current situation. Oriole takes Flight, only instead of driving his sabre low to high, he brought it about in a curved arc to block one sword, decapitate a Champion, and slice through the wrist of a third Defiled who was about to skewer Junyi beside him. The optimal follow up would have been Fluttering Raindrops to recover and defend, but Zian trusted the Situ clansman on his left to protect him and instead executed Standing Fury, his blood singing as the Clansman’s spear blocked a Defiled axe and Zian’s honed sabre carved the tribal savage’s torso in twain. Moving on instinct, he charged forward into the gap and shouldered his next foe aside, using the toppling Defiled as a barrier while he spun on his heels and performed Parting the Underbrush followed by Circling the Grass and Reverse Bite, cleaving through Defiled bodies and pushing past the inner doors and beyond the gatehouse choke-point.
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This was what Jukai had once referred to as composing, taking the notes of the Forms and utilizing them to make music of his own, rather than merely playing them in the ‘optimal’ order. Despite knowing the movements were flawed and inexact, they felt perfectly suited to each particular situation, like pressing the last piece of the puzzle into place or sliding your feet off the bed and landing directly in your slippers without even trying. This was One with the Sword, but Zian took things one step further by becoming One with the World, coordinating his actions to take advantage of the chaos and order around him.
With his Aura and Domain billowing out in full force, he became aware of more than his senses perceived, which allowed him to make decisions and take actions in ways a lesser warrior could not comprehend. A spear darting towards his neck went ignored, because the soldier beside him sent his foe barrelling into the spear and knocked it askew. Another Defiled leapt into battle only to lose his head from an ‘errant’ pass of Zian’s sabre which had been aimed at a different foe, who also died under that same pass. A single step forward brought him face to face with a hulking foe, but Zian’s sturdy combat boots ‘fortuitously’ crushed his foe’s toes and sent him reeling back in surprise. Events like this took place one after the other, and while an outsider might see this and believe Zian blessed by fortune, he knew everything had gone exactly as planned. There were times when he simply fell into the rhythm of battle and it felt like he’d fought the current engagement a thousand times before, with every move planned and practised to perfection before meeting on the battlefield in a display of mutually coordinated bloodshed. If only the Defiled would be so accommodating to aim their weapons wide and run headlong into his sabre, but the ease with which he dispatched his foes was merely an illusion.
Every step into the gatehouse was bought and paid for in blood, pooling across the polished stone floor and turning the battlefield into a slippery mess. Using this to his advantage, Zian Lightened his steps and danced to a melody audible only to him, gliding through the gatehouse on stones slick with blood and making the Enemy pay dearly for the ground they took today. After the fifth close call, Zian stopped counting how many times he almost died and devoted everything he had to the mission before him, to retake the gatehouse and clear it of Defiled filth. Abandoning his pursuit of progress in exchange for utmost killing efficiency, he drew his second sabre and focused on the task at hand while committing the entire experience to memory inside his Natal Palace for future review, noting every sight, sound, thought, and sensation without fail. Despite having progressed farther along the Martial Path than most would ever see, Zian knew he still had much to learn, as evidenced by the jaw-dropping displays of Martial might he witnessed atop the inner wall parapets. From his position by the rear gates, he watched Colonel Hongji stand fast against the tide of Enemy Demons and Peak Experts and smack them down from afar, utilizing his Domain in ways Zian couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
Which was nothing compared to the sublime grace and elegance demonstrated by Rain’s Grand-Mentor, Akanai of the Bekhai. There she stood atop the crenellated parapets, her icy-blue eyes glittering out from under her helmet as she danced to a masterfully choreographed symphony of death and destruction, slaughtering Demons and Peak Experts like a farmer kills chickens while dominating the fearsome Dark Child who defeated two Exarches with a single attack during the withdrawal from the front lines. To the layman, her attacks seemed almost basic and utilitarian, a thrust here and a swipe there with a flourish or spin to connect one movement to the next, but Zian saw the superhuman simplicity within her movements, the Forms made her own as she strode about the battlefield like a god given flesh.
Again, these matters were for him to study another day, once he’d progressed to a point where he could comprehend the mysteries behind Hongji and Akanai’s attacks. For now, it was better to focus on the step before him, and then the one after that, and so on and so forth. Only a spectacular genius like former slave turned Legate Falling Rain could progress by leaps and bounds, but such was life, and Zian was content to move forward one step at a time. It was in this same manner he led his retinue to retake the gatehouse, first clearing the lower floor and setting soldiers to hold the various breaches in the steel gate, then slaughtering his way up the narrow staircase to relieve the beleaguered guards barricaded within the upper level. This was where the control mechanisms were located, and after passing along his orders through the battered bulwark which was once a steel door, he left the guards inside to their work and trudged his exhausted self back downstairs to congratulate his retinue for a battle well fought.
There was a hefty butcher’s bill to pay, not just in his retinue, but across the entire second line. Still, their sacrifice ensured Castle JiangHu would not fall today, and so long as Zian drew breath, he intended to see things remained this way for as long as possible. Though Jing Fei would scold him for it, Zian swore to see that the families of the dead and crippled were provided for, even if it meant going to Rain for help. Pride was nothing compared to camaraderie, and the soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice here would not be soon forgotten.
Soon enough, a fresh company of soldiers arrived to relieve Zian’s spent retinue, so he led them back to their quarters to rest. The fighting had been bloody and arduous, but his part in the affair only lasted little more than an hour, and left him feeling as if he hadn’t slept in a week. Usually, Jing Fei would have a hot bath waiting for him and proceed to massage the aches and strains out of his battered body, but as she was away with Mother, he had to settle for a cold rinse alongside his soldiers after scrubbing away the worst of the grime and gore with soap and brush. Once cleaned and changed, he trundled off to his quarters in hopes of catching an hour or two of sleep before the reinforcements arrived and he was called away to castle-wide briefing. Unfortunately, as he opened his room door, Zian found an unwelcome guest waiting inside, standing with his back turned to the door even though it left him staring at the bed and the blank wall behind it when there was a large window to his left. Repressing a sigh, Zian rubbed at the stubble growing across his chin and idly wondered about growing a beard while greeting his guest. “Elder Chi Gan. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Instead of answering the question, Rang Min’s right-hand man kept silent for enough time to make it known he was speaking on his terms, rather than Zian’s. “I watched you fight,” Chi Gan began, his cold, gravelly tone sending chills down Zian’s spine, because at a hundred and eleven years old, Elder Chi Gan was one of the strongest warriors of the Situ Clan and one of the few Warriors who might be a match for Nian Zu. No one outside the Clan knew this of course, since Elder Chi Gan’s strength was kept as a secret, but it was no accident when Chi Gan’s son, Chi Lok, became a Clan Guardian at the tender age of thirty-seven, an exalted title reserved only for Peak Experts. Mother warned Zian to be wary of the powerful Elder, for he held a grudge against the Bekhai and Falling Rain in particular over Chi Lok’s death, one which took place during the chaos following the Society Contests. “Damn fine show. You’ll outshine us all, provided you live long enough.”
There was a time when Zian thought himself friends with Chi Gan’s grandson, Chi Ang, but he followed in his grandfather’s footsteps and tied himself to Gulong as firmly as Chi Gan was tied to Rang Min. With that in mind, there was no appropriate social reason for Chi Gan to visit Zian, much less secretly watch him in battle, which led him to believe the Elder was here to take his life. Reaching for his sabres, he froze in place as the Elder abruptly turned to face him, his sour expression as unpleasant to behold as it was frightening. There was a slackness in one side of his face, and he walked with a hunched back and affected limp, all of which was faked in order to make him seem more mortal than Martial Warrior. It took immense discipline to live one’s life in the shadows, to be a Peak Expert of the Empire and possibly even a half-step Divinity, though Zian doubted it since Nian Zu still lived and breathed.
Snorting in derision, Elder Chi Gan waved a flimsy hand in dismissal, unwilling or unable to give up the charade, even in private. “I’m not here to kill you, boy,” he said, gesturing at Zian to fetch him a chair. Once settled into his seat, he continued, “It’d be a waste of a warrior, it would. The Clan needs more youths like you, even if you refuse the name you were born to.”
“My father was no Situ,” Zian replied, glancing at his tea set and deciding against offering a drink lest the Elder think it poison. For all he knew, it was poison to anyone who wasn’t him, since Jing Fei did so love to expose him to ‘small’ doses in order to build up his immunity. “He was a Lu, and as his son, I would dishonour his memory by not taking it.”
“He was, but he agreed his son would be a Situ.” Pulling an age-worn scroll out of his sleeves, Chi Gan handed it to Zian for inspection. Upon unfurling it, he found a contract detailing the terms of Lu An Jing and Situ Jia Ying’s marriage, which included, among other things, a section which stated their child would indeed take the Situ name. “What sort of respect are you showing by refusing to honour your father’s word?”
Though fascinated by the contract before him, it would be rude to leave the Elder waiting for an answer while he read through it, so Zian rolled it back up and cocked his head in question. “Is this why you’re here? To ask me to take up the Situ name again? Why? Rang Min must have been delighted when I announced my new name, for now he is no longer bound by Clan law and can openly move against me without reprisal.”
“True, but he hasn’t, because I refused to allow it.” Shrugging, Chi Gan reached into his sleeve, pulled out a gourd of wine, and took a generous swig before continuing. “The time has passed for internecine fighting, so now we must make amends. I come here to ask you to take up the Situ name once more, and work with us to bring glory to the Clan.”
“You want me to return to the Clan?” Narrowing his eyes in anger, Zian considered holding his tongue, but decided it wasn’t worth it. “Then bring me the person responsible for my father’s death.”
“So then it’s your mother you wish to kill then?” The statement rocked Zian in place as his anger drained away to be replaced by dread, wondering if Chi Gan’s words could be taken at face value. Canny, just as mother said, and the old bastard knew it too, because he waited just long enough to let Zian consider the implications before continuing. “Your mother killed him by bedding him, as surely as she would have if she cut his throat herself. We sent her to the Wall to charm Nian Zu, but she falls in love with a rising young talent instead. Then, when it looked like we were going to reject him and marry her off to someone else, she lied about getting with child so we’d have no choice but to accept him. Foolish girl. She would’ve been such a boon to the clan if she weren’t so selfish, but here we are, almost thirty years later and still paying for her mistakes.”
“Her mistakes?” Scarcely able to believe his own ears, Zian asked, “What mistake? Marrying the man she loved?”
“Bah. She knew him for all of a week before deciding to marry him, and only because she was worried she’d be shipped off to some other old fool.” Crinkling his nose, Chi Gan added, “Except we only sent her to Nian Zu to get her away from an insistent young fop who was enamoured with her beauty, but was too rich and influential to outright reject. Whether you, your mother, or even Nian Zu believes it or not, the clan looks after its own.”
“Then why was the Clan going to reject my father? Surely a talent such as he would have been welcome in the clan.”
“Oh Lu An Jing was a dragon alright.” Delivered with a sarcastic sneer which would strip rust off an iron rail, Chi Gan rolled his eyes in derision. “Thousands of Martial Warriors have talent, but this old man can count on two hands the number of young geniuses who made their way to greatness.” Nodding in grudging admission, he added, “Yes, Lu An Jing proved to be one of them, but how were we to know then? That said, this old man is willing to admit his wrongs. Lu An Jing was a boon to the clan, and his death hurt us all, but surely you can’t blame us for that? He was the one who insisted on freedom from Clan obligation, and he was strong and influential enough to deserve it, so we washed our hands and let him play Imperial hero with his merry band of friends while winning acclaim for the Society.” Taking another generous swig from his gourd, Chi Gan concluded, “The Defiled killed your father, that’s the cold, unchanging truth. Now, will you come back to the clan, or am I wasting my breath?”
This time, Zian thought before he answered, and Chi Gan seemed content to wait him out. “You truly believe Rang Min had nothing to do with my father’s death?” Zian trusted his mother above anyone else, so his answer would hinge on what Chi Gan said here. “That he would welcome me with open arms as a wayward son of the Clan?”
“Never said he would.” Neatly sidestepping Zian’s first question, Chi Gan threw up a Sound Barrier, one Zian only felt because he had his Domain deployed and ready to act. It was a strange sensation, having his Domain... enveloped, for lack of a better word, by Chi Gan’s, but it was a stifling, uncomfortable feeling and not just because it demonstrated just how much stronger this Elder truly was. “Rang Min is... unable to accept the reality of his situation.” Slumping in a way that was too genuine to be faked, Chi Gan showed his true age for the first time, a worn, weary man who was tired of beating around the bush. “He put forth a proposal to have the Clan reject the new Legate’s authority, on grounds of his past as a slave. Has a whole coalition ready to raise a ruckus about how Falling Rain is technically stolen property and therefore in no position to command, but it won’t end well. Legally, the Canston Trading Group’s assets were seized when the Bristleboar Divinity defected, meaning even if Rang Min’s argument held up, the boy would be property of the Imperial Clan, but it won’t come to that. Even an old, out of touch fart like me can see that the common people love their slave-turned-Legate, and unless South and Central also turn against him, nothing the Clan does will ever gain traction.”
“...You mean to depose Rang Min?”
“Of course not.” Scowling at Zian as if he were an idiot, Chi Gan asked, “Who would we even put in his place? Nian Zu? Bah. He might be an exemplary warrior and commander, but a piss-poor politician and unrepentant about it to boot. Rang Min is a fine Patriarch, save for his little obsession with Gulong. Even after all these years, he feels his grandfather betrayed him by siding with someone else over his own grandson, even though Rang Min was clearly in the wrong. Now he plays the doting father-figure he wished he had, but not only has he utterly ruined what could have been a fine young warrior, he’s also forgotten that the Clan must always stand above all else.” Heaving a mournful sigh, Chi Gan removed another scroll from his sleeve and handed it to Zian. “This is a statement demanding you be reinstated as Young Patriarch, signed and sealed by almost every Situ Clan Elder and Guardian save for a few with loose lips who could not be trusted. Take up your family name, return to the Clan, and we will bring this before the Patriarch, to remind him that the Clan does not serve the Patriarch, but rather the other way around.”
“And in doing so, focus Rang Min’s ire on me, rather than on all the elders and guardians who betrayed him.” Scanning the document briefly just to be sure it was what Chi Gan said it was, Zian asked, “Would this have anything to do with the Oath he supposedly demanded from you, verifying you were not, in fact, working with Falling Rain?” How he managed to drive a wedge between Rang Min and Chi Gan was nothing short of miraculous, but it was merely another item on a long list of unbelievable accomplishments from the new Legate.
“Huh. Guess you’re not as stupid as I thought.” There was no friendly smile to accompany the banter, only a casual shrug and non-answer. “If you won’t do it, we’ll find some other way to set Rang Min back on the right course, but I’d much rather you came back. If you’re afraid of Rang Min’s reprisals, then I swear to act as your personal guardian and will arrange for two Oath-Sworn Peak Experts to come into your possession. I’ll need your answer now though, because Rang Min means to act soon, and if you do not care to help your clan, then I must make other arrangements to save it.”
There it was, what Rain called the ‘hard sell’, giving Zian no time to seek advice or consider his options. If everything Chi Gan was saying was true, and that was a big if, he knew Mother and Jing Fei would urge him to accept, but alas, Zian still idolized his father, and knowing how he would answer made the decision easy. “I’ve no desire to become embroiled in Clan politics,” Zian said, offering the scroll back to Chi Gan with both hands. “Not so soon after extricating myself. Even when I was the favoured son of the Clan, I had no affection for the title besides what attention it brought me. I would make a poor Patriarch, but I suspect you already knew this, which was why you offered it to me in the first place.” Holding a hand up to forestall Chi Gan’s inevitable denial, Zian smiled and offered a small bow. “The Clan has given me much, and for this, I am grateful, but my Path has diverged from that of the Clan’s, and I must consider what is best for me and mine. If there is anything else the Clan requires of me, ask, and I will consider it, but no longer can I blindly pledge my loyalty to a man I do not trust.”
“So, that’s your final answer?” Something in Chi Gan’s tone put Zian on his guard, for all the good it would do him. Zian demanded the freedom to fight without a Peak Expert guardian watching over him from the shadows, because the mere knowledge that there was someone protecting him would change the way he fought, urge him to take more risks and push his limits even further because there would be little chance of death. Now, he was regretting that insistence, and also regretting he took this meeting in private, but alas, there was no cure for death or regret. “What about your friend, the Legate? Don’t you think you owe him this much, if only to help him out of a bind? What of your own circumstances? Think of the future boy, because it’ll be too late for regret when it comes calling.”
“My friend can look after himself.” Drawing his sabres in a flash, Zian smiled and readied to sell his life dearly. He didn’t have to kill Chi Gan, only survive long enough for someone else to notice the ruckus, preferably someone who was strong enough to stop Chi Gan themselves. “And as for the future? Whatever trials and tribulations may come, I know I have friends who will ensure those I leave behind are well cared for.”
Just as Jukai looked after him, though their time together was far too short...
“Tch.” Draining his gourd dry, Chi Gan pouted and muttered, “Damn it. Fine. You were right. The boy is no blind fool or wide-eyed admirer. Noble as his father was, for all the good it did him.”
“My son’s choice in friends is questionable, and his decisions suspect, but he is a man of conviction.” Slinking out of Concealment, Mother appeared seated atop his bed, her hands folded neatly atop her knees with Jing Fei beside her. Beautiful as the day was bright, his beloved favoured him with an approving smirk, though Zian himself was still unable to figure out what was going on. Ignoring his confusion, Mother turned to Chi Gan and asked, “Then are we in agreement?”
For once, Chi Gan seemed hesitant to reply, and it came as some surprise to see Mother in command of the situation. “...Yes,” he said, not convincing in the least, only to repeat himself in a firmer tone. “Yes. We are in agreement.”
“Good.” Patting Zian on the cheek as she stood, Mother said, “I’ve some work to attend to now, but I brought Jing Fei here to explain everything to you. Remember, a woman in her state needs plenty of rest, so try to keep your questions to a minimum.”
And just like that, she left with Chi Gan, leaving Zian to wonder what exactly just happened. Meeting Jing Fei’s eyes with a raised eyebrow, she simply smiled and said, “It seems, husband mine, that Mother-in-Law intends to make you Young Patriarch whether you want it or not, though I am unsure if she does this to protect you, or to avenge your father herself.” Shrugging, she added, “I’m sure if you insist, she’ll accept giving you the lesser title of little patriarch after she becomes the first Matriarch of the Situ Clan.” Glancing down at her rounded belly, which had only just started showing signs of pregnancy, she said, “You hear that? Your daddy will be the ‘little patriarch’, but what does that make you? The little, little patriarch? Little grand-patriarch? Neither one really rolls off the tongue, now does it.”
Though still shaken by what just took place, Zian happily put it all aside to dote upon his pregnant wife and the child growing in her belly, propping her up with every pillow and blanket in the room while asking after her mood and health. What did he care about Clan politics? That was Mother’s domain, so better for Zian to focus on the war instead, and ensure there was an Empire for his son or daughter to grow up in. That’s all that mattered to him, all he cared about, and though they had yet to meet, Zian already knew he would die for this child of his. That being said, he knew firsthand that his child would prefer a living father over a dead one, so that was what he would strive to be.
No longer did he dream of being a dragon among men. Today’s Lu Jia Zian dreamed of being the best father he could be, and that was ambition aplenty.
Chapter Meme