Nestled in the warm embrace of his cot and blankets, Hongji did his best to enjoy the comfort while he could rather than lament its ensuing inevitable loss, for though the day was young, there was never a dearth of work to be done when out on campaign.
Back when he was a younger Warrior, one hungry for fame and fortune, spending his nights in a field tent was no worse than life in the soldier’s barracks, and in many ways even better. There was less chance of waking up in the morning to find your cot infested with lice or bedbugs, a constant concern with groups of young men of questionable hygiene sharing a living quarters. While enemy attacks were a concern, if woken in the middle of the night, he could at least turn his weapons against them to alleviate his stress, unlike the drunken louts stumbling home past midnight every night and never punished for breaking curfew because of who their parents were. In contrast, sharing a tent with seven other soldiers seemed akin to paradise, and while the base wages for an unranked soldier were far from impressive, he’d grown up on a farm where his parents earned less in three months than what he earned in a week, so even after sending half his wages home to support them, he felt wealthy indeed. Those were simpler times then, but as he progressed along the Martial Path and military career both, he learned just how high the Heavens truly were.
Cotton stuffed mattresses, goose down pillows, silken bed-sheets, covered braziers, scented incense and more, Hongji fell in love with the lifestyle of the wealthy elite as soon as he was exposed to it. Luckily, he had enough good sense to wait until he could afford these comforts before buying them as opposed to going into debt, all thanks to his humble upbringing as a lowly farm boy. Now, as an older man, he still enjoyed all these creature comforts, but he would trade them all to go back to simpler times when he was but a boy sitting at his father’s side and hearing how his day went. While his parents had long since passed, he still missed them each and every day, but it was a small solace knowing they’d died proud of their boy who’d become an esteemed Colonel of the Empire. Then again, they would have been proud of him no matter what so long as he did not lose himself, and they often said they’d be happier if he’d become a father instead.
His greatest regret was that his parents never met their grandchildren, for his sons and daughter could have learned much from Papa and Mama both. No matter how high Hongji soared into the skies, they never let him forget his roots, a calming influence that helped reign in his growing hubris. Alas, they passed before he met his beloved wife, a wildcat of a woman twenty years his junior who loved him more than the luxuries he provided, which didn’t sound like much, but was far more than what most of his peers could say. A merchant’s daughter, born Yom Min Seo, his Min was a wonderful wife and mother both, but as with any woman willing to marry a man old enough to be her father, she had ambitions and aspirations aplenty, ones she never forgot despite forgiving him for failing to live up to her lofty expectations.
Which had since become a point of contention in recent days, her yearning to rub elbows with the wealthy elites and show her childhood friends that she’d made the right choice marrying Chen Hongji. Truth be told, he owed her this much, for she stood by him when his career stalled and reputation faded away to nothingness, leaving him a ‘mere’ Colonel after so many decades of dedicated effort. As such, against his better judgment, he brought her and the children to the Citadel and introduced them to all manner of powerful and influential people, including two of the most incredible Warriors he had the honour of fighting alongside in the entirety of his career, Lieutenant General Akanai and Legate Falling Rain.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough for any of them, and they all wanted more from him. None of his children followed in his footsteps to form their Cores, another sore spot in his family life, but truth be told, Hongji was glad they remained commoners, even if it meant his family line faded into obscurity after he passed. Too many second generation heroes lay dead on battlefields far from home, and much like his parents, he only wanted his children to grow up healthy and happy so that they could start a family of their own. Min however, was not so pleased at the thought of her children and grandchildren living out their lives in mediocrity, and thus wanted to secure jobs for each of them in the future. Initially, she was adamant that they all work in her father’s merchant company when they became of age, rather than letting them follow their dreams as youths should, but now she saw better prospects looming just over the horizon, for her father’s business would ultimately never go to her. It wasn’t a large company as far as such things went, but not small either, and if her eldest brother wasn’t such a spendthrift wastrel, he might have made something of his inheritance. Instead, he let it lie fallow and plundered whatever profits it produced each year to pay off interest on the debts he took on in order to fund the lavish lifestyle he could not afford.
To make matters worse, his children saw the way their favourite uncle lived and believed it a better life than the one their own father provided. While they missed out on inheriting his Martial abilities, they shared their mother’s drive and ambition, and thus all believed he should leverage his friendship with Legate Falling Rain to secure favourable contracts for the ‘family company’. Never mind that it wasn’t his family, or theirs for that matter, for his children were surnamed Chen, not Yom. A simple enough request, they all insisted, to ask the Legate for this minor favour, but Hongji’s pride would not allow it. He’d come this far on his own merit without throwing in with a faction or professing allegiance to anyone besides the Emperor Himself, and thus his children should strive to do the same, but they were not brave enough to even try. “Come up with a business proposal and I will bring you to present it to the Legate,” he told them, but they couldn’t even do that, but to be fair, the boys were barely even old enough to grow a proper beard, much less put together a plan that the Legate wouldn’t laugh at. Thankfully, Hongji’s children were not so shameless as to directly go asking for a handout. No, they wanted their father to do it for them, because they were not truly interested in securing any actual work, as that would require too much effort on their part to fulfill.
Granted, the Legate had a reputation for threatening death or bankruptcy to merchants who failed to uphold their contracts, but as far as Hongji could tell, he’d only lashed one merchant in all his time as Legate and offered more than generous repayment schedules to the victims of his admittedly predatory compound interest schemes. He had no pity for those willing victims however, for Mother knows how many of them did the same to the commoners under their thumb, and most were not even half as benevolent as the Legate. Truth be told, Hongji had hoped his children would at least make the effort and fail, for they needed a swift kick in the pants to set them on the right path, but he loved them too much to treat them so harshly. How could they all be so blind as to think failing to uphold a contract would ruin the ‘family’ company? Becoming indebted to the Legate was no different from tying themselves to his wagon, for as he rose, so too would they, because if there ever was a problem he needed a merchant to solve, who better to go to than a company that was already firmly in his pocket?
These contentious issues made home life less than blissful, and as much as he loved them all, he also needed some time apart. Then, as soon as the campaign began, they stumbled across the atrocity in LuZhuo and suddenly his family’s failings didn’t seem so important anymore. It was all a matter of perspective, and now he missed them dearly once again, but he was not a man who would shirk his duties even if he could. Thus, even though no one would say a thing if he stayed in bed a little longer than usual, he smacked his lips and sighed as he emerged from his blanketed cocoon to brave the chilly late-autumn morning. Repressing a shudder as his bare feet touched the frosty ground, he dressed himself as quickly as he could and regretted not leaving his socks on while sleeping. As a younger man, he’d gone to bed in full armour most nights on campaign and suffered nothing for it, but there were some luxuries he could no longer deny himself, and sleeping in comfort was one of them.
Min often told him he should take on a maid or manservant to make his life easier, but he knew his wife better than to fall for her ploys. Though still as beautiful as the day he met her, she’d grown more and more concerned of late that he would take another lover, or worse, another wife. That was a vice for younger, more foolish men, for Hongji had his hands full with just the one, and taking on a maid would only make her that much more jealous. As for a manservant, that was even less needed, as he was more than capable of trimming his beard and laying out his clothes himself. For everything else, he had eager military aides waiting around every corner to see to his needs, many of whom had their own manservants who could darn Hongji’s socks or launder his clothes just as well as any other, so why waste coin hiring a servant for himself?
As if summoned by the mere thought of them, two young aides arrived with breakfast and tea, carrying the trays in as if they’d cooked everything themselves, when in reality they had their own servants do all the work save for these last few steps. Those same manservants busied themselves lighting the brazier and cleaning up around the yurt, a wonderful travelling domicile that made campaigning a hundred times more tolerable, as the leather warded off the cold far better than the thick canvas walls of his standard issue Officer’s tent. One of the servants even went so far as to make Hongji’s cot, a wonderfully comfortable contraption of supple leather stretched over a sturdy cast-iron frame, all of which folded up for easy transport. Sleeping in the cot was like sleeping in a grassy hollow, neither too hard nor too soft and so functional it appealed to his simple and subdued nature. Other Brigadiers had whole squads of servants accompanying them out on campaign, but while Hongji enjoyed the luxuries of home, there were risks associated with getting too comfortable while out in the field.
“Ah,” he said, stopping one manservant in his tracks as he moved to tidy Hongji’s desk. Only two roughly bound books, a used fraying brush, and a dried inkwell sat atop it, but servants to noble elites were nothing if not meticulous about keeping things tidy. “Leave that for now. My own personal work you see, which I’d rather not have anyone read.”
The manservant simply nodded and puttered off to clean something else, while the young aides responded with understanding and enthusiasm as they lied through their teeth about how it’d be an honour to hear him wax poetic, but he knew their hearts weren’t in it. They were here for one reason and one reason only, to be taken under his wing and hopefully nurtured into capable Warriors and outstanding commanders. That was the way of it with young Warriors whose families had plenty of wealth but were lacking in powerful connections, and there were few more noteworthy than Hongji himself these days. The two aides were not his first choice for protege by far, but they were neither lacking in ambition nor potential, so he took them on to give them a chance, as well as four others who were of more humble origins and were thus currently busy getting themselves fed and dressed. The advantages of wealth were not small in life, but he was determined not to allow these minor gestures get in the way of his final verdict of who to take on as his true successor.
That was yet another sore spot for Hongji of late, finding someone to inherit all of the lessons he’d learned over so many years of service. It wasn’t just about Martial strength or tactical acumen, but also his ethos and philosophy, for he had come so far based on merit alone, which in his opinion, should not be the exception, but the norm. If there was anything to be gleaned from the past few months, it was that there was no room for politics in the military. Much as he still respected Colonel General Shuai Jiao, Hongji was devastated to see the Living Legend fail to live up to standards and be the impartial hero Central and the rest of the outer provinces so desperately needed. Without Ryo Dae Jung and Mitsue Juichi to keep him in check, Shuai Jiao’s true nature was revealed to all as he consolidated his power base in the aftermath of Bai Qi’s devastating siege, gathering allies and subduing enemies with a wanton lack of his prior magnanimity. The people of Central were either with Shuai Jiao or against him, an ultimatum delivered not in so many words, but in actions which spoke much louder. Merchant companies were forced to kowtow to Marshal Yo’s demands while Officers were denied rewards and promotions if they failed to swear fealty to their Commander General, with the unspoken implication that they were all expected to obey his commands above all others, save for the Emperor or those who spoke in His name.
A move to set himself up against Legate Falling Rain, anyone with eyes could see as much. Even if backed by an Imperial Family, Hongji could not for the life of him understand why Shuai Jiao could not bring himself to work alongside the Legate, for he’d proven himself time and time again to not only be a commander and Warrior worthy of admiration, but also a man willing to compromise and make allies of former enemies. Even Situ Rang Min sat firmly in the boy’s camp now, driven there by circumstance but never made to eat crow for his failures and even elevated to a position of no small importance. The former Clan Patriarch was now second only to Marshal Yuzhen in terms of political and mercantile powers of the North, and no slouch when it came to military power either, having clawed out a place for himself in the hierarchy of factions after his fall from grace not even a year past. If Shuai Jiao were to approach the Legate with a willingness to cooperate, then Falling Rain would have welcomed him with open arms and likely given the Commander General everything he’d already claimed for himself and more.
Which perhaps was the crux of the issue, for much like Hongji himself, Shuai Jiao had arrived at his lofty heights based on merit alone, but alas, he did not seem too keen on allowing others to follow in his footsteps.
A shame Shuai Jiao had not seen fit to try and win Hongji over to his camp, for there were many things he would’ve liked to say. Thankfully, the Legate smoothed things over without having to resort to bloodshed, though to be honest, when Hongji heard tell of the Legate’s impending arrival in the Citadel, he’d said a small prayer for the boy and Shuai Jiao both, for he was certain one of the two would not live through the night. One mountain cannot hold two tigers, but the Heavens were merciful and both men merely butted heads before agreeing to work together, though even Hongji was not so naive as to believe this was the end of it. No matter how he approached the matter however, he only saw one of two ways this could end; either this offensive would stall or fail and Falling Rain would return home in disgrace, or he would set out what he hoped to accomplish and return home with an unshakable foundation from which to rule no matter what Shuai Jiao did to oppose him. If the Legate could truly drive the Enemy out of the West, then he will have won over the hearts and minds of every man, woman, and child of the Outer Provinces in a way even the Emperor could not match.
Which in turn could give rise to another whole host of issues, but one problem at a time...
Answering questions for his two aides while enjoying his hot breakfast, Hongji put off discussing actual work until the rest of his aides arrived, for there were no pressing matters at hand which couldn’t afford to wait. Outside his yurt walls sat Meng Sha, the second of four Western harbours the Imperial Army had retaken in a single night, and the new headquarters for the entire Western offensive. This meant that there were many storied Living Legends on hand to deal with the day to day minutia of military management, leaving Hongji uncharacteristically free these past two weeks to put brush to paper and write. A more difficult task than he expected, to put his thoughts into words others might read and understand, and he envied young Han BoShui’s ability to turn a phrase into lyrical verse and paint a vivid picture in his readers’ minds with only a few strokes of the brush, an ability Hongji tried to emulate without success. Were those bound papers on his desk meant for his own perusal, he could hardly care less, for he was quite fond of scribbling poetry in his spare time for no one to read besides himself. Only rarely did he care to share his work, a mere handful of occasions over a lifetime of composition, so to make the jump and present what amounted to a full-fledged dissertation was something of a shock to say the least.
Once all his aides were readied and gathered, including the most promising of the bunch, Tam TaeWoong, Hongji stood from his chair and set out to make his rounds. Stopping at his desk to retrieve his notes, he held the two stacks of paper in hand and for a moment, considered feeding it all into the blazing brazier which was fast turning the yurt into a steam house. A waste of charcoal just to heat his breakfast, but Hongji couldn’t muster up the will to stop the manservant in time. Now, those alluring flames offered him a different temptation, a chance to consign these literary atrocities to the flames and start anew, or perhaps give up altogether and never try his hand at it again, for anything worth doing was worth doing right, and he feared he lacked the capability to do this justice. What did it matter anyways? Who in their right mind would care to read about Hongji’s Insights into the Dao? Though a Peak Expert by definition, he stood firmly in the rear of the pack, a Warrior of middling renown who stood out only because of his tactical acumen rather than Martial abilities. Almost any Peak Expert in existence could defeat him in single combat, for his speed, strength, agility, and reaction time were all lacking to say the least. His only saving grace was his unique Insights into the Dao which he used to create his own personal fighting style, wherein he formed his Domain into the shape of an Ethereal Palm to affect the physical surroundings, but even that wasn’t impressive enough to warrant coveting. It was far from the most effective or efficient method of combat, overly reliant on the element of surprise and wholly lacking in raw destructive power, while being costly and draining to utilize for more than an instant. Though visibly impressive, he rarely won his fights with the Ethereal Palm alone, and it was not as versatile as it might appear, lacking any and all dexterity and resembling a hand only in image alone.
When he first tried to use the Ethereal Palm in a duel, his opponent had laughed and called it the ‘Ethereal Flyswatter’, which, loath as he was to admit, was a better interpretation of the skill’s function. It was a hammer strike of Chi that was spread out over a wide surface area, making it useful for battering weaker opponents about and keeping them at bay, but not so useful when it came to killing someone of equal or greater strength. That being said, the Legate had personally expressed interest in the Ethereal Palm, so much so that he carefully requested Hongji share his methods without applying any pressure or obligation. It was done in such a hesitant, roundabout manner, Hongji hadn’t even realized what the Legate wanted until long after their meeting ended and he recounted the exchange to Min, whose eyes immediately went wide with excitement. “He wants you to teach him!” she’d said, clinging to his arm with a vice-like grip as if afraid he’d run away. “Oh, imagine it now husband, you could be Mentor to the Legate himself!”
All nonsense of course, as the boy already had a Mentor and a formidable one at that, the fierce and intimidating Lieutenant General Baatar, a successor to not one, but two Living Legends, Akanai and Nian Zu. Some even whispered that Baatar was the strongest of them all, due to an errant comment Akanai made about Baatar’s ability to ‘easily’ dispatch Bai Qi. Having seen all three Warriors in action, Hongji wholeheartedly agreed, for though the Colonel General was a fearsome combatant few could match and Akanai on a level he could not even discern, if given the choice, Hongji would much rather fight either one of them than the Bloody-Fanged Wolf. There was something utterly unnerving about Baatar’s piercing blue eyes, a wild look within that promised death and violence to spare. It was far more than mere bestial fury, for as reckless as he might appear, his actions hinted at a core of iron discipline from which he would never waver, a fact which made him all the more fearsome. A crazed man is feared because he is unpredictable, but a sane man who could match that was far more terrifying to oppose.
What’s more, from what Hongji could tell, Baatar was a formidable tactician to boot, lacking the classical education to explain his thoughts and responses, but wholly capable of matching the likes of Bai Qi and Shuai Jiao in matters of military tactics through little more than experience and instinct. No, Falling Rain most certainly was not looking to take Hongji as his Mentor, but merely coveting the methods behind the Ethereal Palm and unsure how to properly ask for it. A simple enough task in theory, as Hongji had no Disciple to pass his teachings onto and in truth never truly cared about keeping his methods to himself. Most martial skills were kept secret because they offered their user an advantage in battle, one which would no longer exist if the secret were shared, but the Ethereal Palm was hardly a heaven defying attack like Nian Zu’s Shooting Star or Mitsue Juichi’s Mountain Collapsing Stomp. The Legate was simply a curious man who enjoyed ruminating on the Dao and all its workings, and the Ethereal Palm had likely caught his eye due to its unique and flashy nature.
So Hongji set out to write a primer on how he devised the Ethereal Palm, but it was difficult to do as he had no real understanding of the details. It was simply something he did, like sitting up or jumping, so natural he didn’t understand why other Warriors were unable to replicate his efforts. Chi was a real, tangible substance, something that could not be seen, smelt, tasted, or heard, but existed all the same. Anyone with a Core could feel the Energy of the Heavens stir when enough Martial Warrior’s gathered, sense it pulling at the hairs on their skin and rushing through their veins like a surge of anger or desperation, elation or excitement. Knowing this, Hongji never thought twice before trying to use his Chi in a more direct manner, and wasn’t all too surprised when he succeeded. It existed, and anything that existed could be used as a hammer, so long as you applied sufficient force.
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That was another of Papa’s nuggets of wisdom, though Hongji suspected his father might have been drunk while dispensing it. Didn’t make it any less apt, and it was one of his favourite phrases to use when teaching junior officers how to lead a charge.
And so, since he lacked the ability to explain the concept behind the Ethereal Palm, Hongji tried to tell the story of how he came to discover it, which then required him to add in the story of how he arrived at those circumstances, and so on and so forth. That was the first book, something of an autobiography of his Martial Path leading up to his discovery of the Ethereal Palm, while the second contained all the Insights and observations he’d uncovered in the decades since. This was no sagely primer of detailing how to learn the Ethereal Palm, but more of an old man’s rambling put onto paper, a tangled mess of a narrative that he feared failed to educate or even entertain the reader.
Who knew a story spanning a few dozen pages would be so difficult to write? Had he known this beforehand, he would’ve simply offered to tell the Legate everything he wanted to hear rather than promise to write it all down for fear of seeing the look of disappointment in the young hero’s face when he discovered how useless Hongji’s Ethereal Palm truly was.
Stifling a sigh with little success, he resisted the urge to consign everything into the flames because despite his reservations, he still held out hope that what he’d written would be of use to the Legate, slim though the chance may be. Young Rain had done so much for Hongji, so how could he balk at such a minor, insignificant request in return? Tucking the two books into his sleeves, Hongji offered Tam Taewoong a wry smile, the only one of his aides who dared question his actions. Not in so many words, but merely a single raised eyebrow, a skill Hongji had spent countless hours in front of a mirror mastering. The young Warrior needed no such practice however, as his expression was the perfect blend of idle curiosity and lacking judgment. “My collection of poems,” he declared, flashing his aides a wicked smile. “Whichever one of you performs the most poorly today will earn the privilege of spending your evening writing a detailed report on your three favourites of the bunch, as well as why the others were unable to make the cut.”
The other five stiffened in muted alarm, and one almost let a tired groan slip out before they realized it was merely a jest, but Hongji forgave them for their lacking enthusiasm. Few young men cared to dabble in poetry anymore, for gone were the years of Mitsue Juichi’s ascent when his calligraphy poems were all the rage in Central and beyond. Hongji himself still had one such poem, a replica he purchased from a street side vendor catering to impoverished intellectuals like himself, or those who wanted to appear intellectual without spending a vast fortune on the originals. Nowadays, the children were more keen on feats of strength and agility, a newfangled craze sweeping the provinces thanks to the tales of Legate Falling Rain’s wedding demonstrations. Even the military had adopted those obstacle courses for their own use, because one of the greatest hurdles in teaching new Martial Warriors was waiting for them to acclimate to their rapidly changing bodies. There was a saying that a girl changes twelve times between childhood and adulthood, but Martial Warriors of both genders changed maybe thrice that. One only needed to look at Tam Taewoong to see the truth, who’d come to Hongji in Sinuji as a slim and pasty youth, a pretty boy who tried so hard to appear older than he was. Now though, there was no need to pretend, for the boy had grown into a slender yet rugged man, blessed with broad shoulders and a straight back. His arms were no larger than they were before, but chiselled and defined through countless hours of harsh combat and gruelling training, and he held himself with a grace and confidence that others would kill to match. This young Warrior came to Hongji as a pup, and now he was a wolf in truth, though one that still fell far short of the talented Falling Rain.
Putting aside his internal musings, Hongji brought his aides out on a tour of the harbour fortress. Meng Sha had originally been a military encampment, but little remained of the original foundation as far as Hongji could see. The fortress was eight times larger than its previous incarnation, with walls so tall they blocked out the morning sun until it was almost time for lunch. As an added benefit, it also blocked out the dry wind which not only sapped the warmth from his bones, but also wicked away the moisture from his skin and mouth and left a sandy grime in its wake. To make matters worse, winters in the West were wholly devoid of snow, for in midday, the temperature would rise until even a light shirt left him in a balmy heat, only for all that warmth to disappear in the blink of an eye as soon as the sun sank below the horizon. While natural ice was rare to find, a cup of tea would easily freeze over if left out overnight, and suffering through these two extremes left Hongji in an irritable mood that the damned sand only exacerbated to a nigh unfathomable degree as it somehow made its way into every nook and cranny of his body. Spit on the stones? Sand. Blow his nose? Sand. Wipe his ass? Yes indeed, there was sand there too. Madness is what it was, but the worst part was that Meng Sha meant ‘Dream Sand’, or perhaps more accurately ‘Sandy Dreams’, and Hongji admired the man with the gall to make light of this hellscape. Were it not for the loyal Imperials still trapped and tormented within these lands, Hongji would happily cede this forsaken, sand-blasted province over the Defiled in a heartbeat, for only then would they know true suffering.
Time passed slowly as Hongji led his aides through the dusty clouds of granular discomfort and inspected the camp, a far cry from the minor fortress which once stood here. This was no box of a fortification, but more of a wall running along the bowl-shaped coastline, with a straight section of wall in the centre and an ‘arm’ on either side that stretched out into the water itself. While a dedicated enough besieger could simply swim around the barricade, they would be in for a rude awakening if they should try, and Hongji looked forward to seeing the aftermath of the first fools to dare test the waters. The walls themselves were both tall and sturdy, wide enough for two ranks of warriors and three ranks of irregulars to stand atop and fight comfortably, with room to spare for moving reinforcements up and down the lines. Four stately concrete towers overlooked the wall, one at each ‘joint’ between centre and arm as well as two more on either side of the main gates. Their lofty heights were bedecked in deadly bolt-throwers aplenty, but their true purpose was to spot for the catapults sitting on a platform further back, one built into the centre of the fortification and surrounded by soldiers on all sides. From there, these weapons of war were free to unleash death at any and all opposing armies, regardless if the Enemy decided to come by land or by sea, having fast become the pivotal weapon in all their engagements against the Defiled.
It felt strange leaving their backs open to the water, but the natural harbour wall ensured no ships could ever make it past the blockade sitting in the entrance, a bulky merchant vessel manned at all times by no less than three volunteers with orders to scuttle the ship if the Enemy were ever to try and run the blockade. This was a fortress built with non-standard tactics in mind, but Hongji saw no flaws in the designs put forth by Grandmason Gwangjon and Quartermaster Cao Cuo. The latter had even more to offer, having drawn up plans for a shifting camp rotation that could better obfuscate the sleeping areas of high ranking Officers, a necessity now that the Enemy Wraiths were using crossbows themselves. Hongji’s own force of crossbow soldiers had impressed him with their deadly effectiveness, but even he shuddered to think how he would fare if faced with a similar unit on the battlefield. An all out cavalry charge would do the trick, but at no small cost to the cavalry who were far more difficult to train, while the best case scenario would be to stand and return fire at the Enemy, trading bolt for bolt and life for life until one side ran out.
A trade which would inevitably end in the Enemy’s favour, for if there was one thing the Defiled did not lack, it was Warriors willing to die for their cause.
Still, on paper, the war efforts were going well. No one expected the Enemy to give up these vital harbours so easily, but Lieutenant General Akanai was wise not to rise up and take the bait. Four harbours was already stretching the limits of what they could hold, but she didn’t even try to hold LuZhuo or Huang Hai, giving up both to better secure the more defensible positions of Meng Sha and Dong Jiang. While two weeks was but a blink of an eye in terms of construction, that was before the Legate’s incredible vision brought about the wonders of concrete and cast iron. Not only that, but Grandmason Gwangjon had mastered the art of construction to near perfection, his facilities put in place within hours of landing and work beginning mere minutes after the plans were finalized. The Defiled could either assault the walls en masse and clump up for the engines of war to rain death from above, or wade through the shallows and try to circle around the walls, where they’d make easy targets for the Irregulars standing guard.
Formidable though the defences might be, Hongji was more concerned with the soldiers manning said defences. The air was rife with fear and tension, and the soldiers were all on edge. They’d set out two weeks ago with an army over a million strong, but less than a thousand in total had seen battle thus far. There was another saying of Papa’s that suited the occasion, that you should never put the cart before the horse. This army was the horse, harnessed and ready to go wherever the road might lead them, but first, they needed to fix and hitch the wagon. The Legate had expected a fight to claim these harbours, and so too did the soldiers, so they worked themselves into a fevered frenzy in anticipation of the bloodshed only to have nowhere to unleash their frustrations. It didn’t help that they’d lost seven Peak Experts since departing for the West, the sum total of the entire army’s casualties, but the effect on morale was more detrimental than losing seven thousand common Martial Warriors. Then there was the fact that the Legate was out of commission once again, with no sign of waking even after twenty days of rest and recuperation, though Hongji had felt firsthand the powers young Falling Rain wielded on that fateful day, and would not fault the boy if he slept for an entire year.
All this and more meant that while discipline was still firmly in place, Hongji saw signs of it starting to slip as bored and frightened soldiers were wont to do, so unless the Enemy were kind enough to attack within the week, they might have a whole different crop of issues to deal with.
As a ‘lowly’ Brigadier however, all this was above his pay-grade when it came to this particular army, so he continued his rounds and set his aides upon the soldiers as they passed, keeping track of the issues they spotted and how they went about solving them. There was no real point system, as being a commander required flexibility and nuance, but no matter how he looked at the matter, young Tam Taewoong was the best of the bunch. The boy was not only a talented Warrior, but also an able commander willing to listen and adapt without direction. The boy would make for a fine protege, but Hongji lacked the confidence to properly guide him along his career path, to say nothing of the Martial Path. That was one thing he’d hoped to ask the Legate about, finding a proper Mentor or supporter for young Taewoong without injuring the Central boy’s pride, but it seemed like such a minor matter in the grand scheme of things, Hongji had never gotten around to it.
And now, it might be too late.
Suppressing his dark thoughts, Hongji vowed to persevere as he dismissed his aides and headed towards the Bekhai camp. Greeting the Khishig sentry that stopped him, he inquired if the Lieutenant General had time to spare for him, and to his surprise, the woman simply Sent a message and pointed out the direction to head in while remaining at her post. It wouldn’t be so much of an issue if the camps were still laid out according to Imperial Doctrine, but Liu Xuande had recently overhauled many standard practices, a move which was supported by the Legate, Akanai, and even Colonel General Nian Zu himself. This meant Akanai’s Command Tent would not be in a standard, easily found location, but as Hongji wandered through the camp, he found plenty of Warriors seemingly at ease who were happy to point out the way without needing to be asked. Security through obscurity, the young Legate had called it, and truth be told, Hongji was rather impressed by how well it worked.
Stopping outside a yurt that looked exactly like his own, he hesitated as to whether to knock or declare himself first, but the decision was taken from him. The door opened to reveal Akanai’s hulking husband behind it, whereupon he offered a scarred grimace which might have been his version of a smile. “Chen Hongji,” he rumbled, in a distinct, lyrical burr which Hongji found rather enchanting, for he wondered how it would sound in song. “C’mon in.”
To his surprise, Akanai was not the only other person inside the yurt, for Baatar, Nian Zu, and Du Min Gyu were all sat on the floor waiting for him to join them. So taken aback by the sight of so many lofty individuals, Hongji almost made a fool of himself by bowing over their heads, for though the yurt was larger than most tents, it was still rather cramped with so many seated within. “Sit,” Akanai commanded, eschewing any polite greetings in a brusque manner others might take offence to, but Hongji had come to realize was her way of displaying comfort and familiarity. If she wanted to be rude, she would not say a thing at all, and her invitation was akin to open arms and a warm smile from other, more politically apt individuals, though she was far more genuine than any politician could ever hope to be. Gesturing at the map on the table, she continued, “We were planning the attack, or at least putting together a plan to bring to the other commanders. What are your thoughts on what we have so far?”
Again, despite the straightforwardness of the request, Hongji knew what an honour it was to be included in the planning, for it meant they valued his opinion. There was no need for explanations either, as the movements were made clear on the map in front of her, with pieces to denote the moving forces. “A three pronged attack,” he muttered. “Bold.”
“You disapprove?”
“I did not say that.” Three cities under Enemy control, all out in the shifting desert dunes where two armies could pass within kilometres of one another and never be aware of the other’s presence. “You’ve a method to arrive here undetected I presume? At Pan Si Xing? If not, you risk giving the game away.” Whoever named these cities and harbours had a flair for the dramatic. First Sandy dreams, and now a homonym for Death Sentence. “A coordinated attack on three targets at once. Bold and ambitious, but it denies our Enemy the time needed to gather its troops together to overwhelm any of our forces in one go. Much to be gained, but not without risk, which can be mitigated if we can hide our approach to Pan Si Xing. Make it look like we’re targeting Shi Bei, with this second in place to intercept reinforcements from the northwest, and possibly even catch out forces moving from here and here once we go on the offensive.
“Good, good.” Flashing his wolfish grin, Baatar fixed his pierce gaze on Hongji and nodded in quiet glee, one darkened by murderous intent. “You were right. He sees much in a glance. I agree.”
“With what?”
“Our scouts report Bai Qi is mustering an army in Pan Si Xing,” Akanai declared, so casually one might think she was speaking about buying groceries on her way home rather than the Commander General of the Defiled forces. “I’m of a mind to send the pup out to take his head, but I would like you to go with him to keep him in check.” So it would seem there was something to the rumours then, or Akanai believed her efforts were better spent elsewhere. In answer to his unasked question, Akanai gestured at one of the targets Hongji picked out and added, “I will be leading the attack here, at Tian Zangli.” Heavenly Funeral? This was just too much. “Bai Qi’s head is a prize to be sure, but the pup can handle him well enough and will benefit more from the honour and glory. I will content myself with the head of the Mataram Patriarch instead.”
This woman did not do anything by half measures, and he feared to ask who was waiting at Shi Bei, but she simply sat in silence and waited for his answer, which meant she was not yet ready to share. Regardless of what she intended, it was clear she had the means to feasibly accomplish her plans, so there was no point bringing up minor matters like terrain or travel time. “Then I will offer Lieutenant General Baatar my utmost support, whatever that might be worth.”
“More precious than gold and diamonds,” Akanai replied.
“No titles in private friend,” Baatar added, clapping Hongji hard on the shoulder while fixated on something only he could see, visions of slaughter and bloodshed no doubt. “Not from a man who matched wits with Bai Qi and emerged victorious.”
High praise from anyone, but it meant so much more coming from one of the stoic Bekhai, and Hongji felt his cheeks warming from the compliment. Before he could come up with a response however, Akanai interrupted and said, “We will discuss the details in depth, but first, what brought you here to my doorstep?”
“Nothing of importance,” he stammered, instinctively reaching for the notes before thinking better of it, and his movements did not escape her notice. Even knowing she was seven or eight times his age, it was still difficult to accept that he was standing before a senior, and his pride protested having to behave like a startled schoolboy before his teacher. Not enough to sway him from his actions however, so he simply swallowed his pride and explained, “The Legate asked me to share my thoughts on my Martial Path and the Ethereal Palm in particular, and though I agreed to do so, it turned out to be much more difficult than expected. I’ve no shame in admitting that I’ve given up, and hoped to be rid of what I have by handing them over to you. When the Legate wakes, I will be happy to discuss the Dao to his heart’s content, but I could not rest easy without handing these notes over to someone for safekeeping.” Shrugging, he adopted a stoic manner and stated in his most matter-of-fact tone, “Nothing is certain in life except death.”
To his surprise, everyone smiled upon hearing Hongji quote his father, but Nian Zu explained readily enough. “Young Rain has a similar saying, only he adds, ‘and taxes’, at the end.”
That got a rise out of him, and Hongji laughed without restraint. “That certainly sounds like the Legate, both wise and fatalistic.”
“Do you mind if I read through this?” Of all the people to ask, Hongji was surprised to see the fabled Great Teacher Du Min Gyu chomping at the bit to get his hands on the notes, already reaching over as he asked for permission while Akanai’s hand slammed down to pin the notes in place.
“Of course,” Hongji said, and then he froze as Akanai disappeared from in front of him and reappeared at the other end of the yurt, flipping through the pages like a woman possessed. So she wasn’t just being respectful of his privacy, but also keeping the notes so she could read them first, and he could not for the life of him understand why.
Grumbling in disappointment, Du Min Gyu glared daggers at Akanai before heaving a helpless sigh. “Hmph. A woman her age should give way to her juniors, but some manners can never be taught.”
As he turned to reach for a chest behind him, he was beat to the punch by Baatar who offered the Central hero a passing nod of commiseration, his smile so full of mirth and lacking in bloodlust it almost seemed out of place. “This is for you,” he said, removing a stack of papers so tall he needed both hands to bring it out of the chest, with more still waiting within as he pressed them into Hongji’s hands. “You will have to memorize it all here, as it is not safe to make copies just yet, but it is not so difficult once you pick up the boy’s trick. No need to read the page in its entirety and memorize the words themselves, simply commit the image before your eyes to memory and you can read it whenever you like.”
Blinking in confusion, Hongji stared at the papers and back at Baatar, for he was the only one still paying him any mind. The others were busy committing Hongji’s notes to memory, passing them down one after the other like one of the Stonemason’s assembly lines. “What is this?”
“The notes we and many others have written regarding our respective Martial Paths.” Turning to stare beyond the wall at what Hongji could only assume was the Legate’s hidden location, Baatar’s features relaxed as he smiled in the most calm and peaceful manner Hongji had ever seen from the man save for the recent New Years celebration which coincided with the Legate awakening from his coma. “My son has grand dreams, ones my Mother shares. Where she sought to spread the teachings of the Martial Dao to the people of the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains, the boy now seeks to do the same for the rest of the Empire. He has not yet given voice to this particular aspiration, but we all know him well enough to see what he intends. He has written his own primer as well, there at the end, though you should take care when reading it as his perspective is rather unique and difficult to follow at times. For example, he opens with a statement regarding a powerhouse, and it took some time before we understood that he was using the term not to denote a powerful faction or individual, but instead as a synonym for a source of power.”
Taking a moment to steady his breath, Hongji stared at the papers before him without daring to blink, for within these pages sat a wealth of knowledge no amount of coin could buy. These were the experiences of some of the strongest Warriors of this time, so to read their personal notes was akin to becoming an unofficial Disciple. Hardly a fair trade, his experiences for theirs, not to mention a priceless look into the mind of the Legate who defied all common sense. Were he to study these notes, he would undoubtedly uncover a weakness which could be used against them, which showed just how much they trusted him. Allowing him to read this was the same as giving him a dagger to hold over their heads, and they didn’t even bother to ask him for an Oath.
“A gift too precious to accept,” Hongji said, holding fast to his conviction and pushing the papers away before he could read them. “I appreciate the gesture, but I could not rest easy knowing I have taken advantage of you so.”
“If anything, we are the ones taking advantage of you.” Cackling as he looked over Hongji’s notes, the famed Sanguine Tempest seemed more crazed than fierce, the glint in his eyes approaching madness. “Your Ethereal Palm? The boy, he believes it to be an advanced form of Domain Plating, a skill which thus far can only be learned, but not taught. However, I’ve barely scratched the surface of your notes and already have an inkling of where to proceed, and yet you say you have taken advantage of me? To think that a talent like yours could languish in mediocrity for so long... Pei! Between the two of us, you are far more worthy of the title ‘Great Teacher’ than I, a fact I will proudly admit to all.”
“He is correct.” Nodding as he pushed the papers back over, Baatar promptly added a second pile beside it, followed by a third and a fourth. “The Brotherhood believes strength is a poor measure of progress along the Dao, and I have recently come to agree. Even among Divinities, your mastery of Domain Plating is exceptional, it is only your ability to apply it that is lacking. For example, rather than a direct attack, have you tried condensing it in a similar manner to how Brother Du uses Wind Chi, targeting the ears to deafen your foes and throw them off balance?”
“It’s not as easy as simply condensing the attack,” Hongji replied, happily accepting a cup of tea from the fearsome Husolt, only to cough as he discovered it was a cup of wine instead. Matching the hulking man’s grin, he nodded in thanks and set to discussing the Dao with Baatar, while Nian Zu, Du Min Gyu, and Akanai listened in. Gratifying as it was to be taken so seriously, it was even more gratifying to learn, for this single discussion with so many great minds helped him find where to place his next steps along the Martial Path.
This was the Legate’s dream, a world in which Martial Warriors shared their experiences rather than hoarding their secrets like gold, and while there were risks associated with openly sharing their methods, there were many benefits to be had as well. So many that Hongji did away with his initial intention to choose only one successor out of all his military aides, for so long as he was willing to put in the time and effort, then there was no harm in taking all of them under his wing and instilling them with not just his tactical acumen, but his morals and ethics as well. A matter for later however, as he spent the rest of the afternoon parsing through those notes and progressing leaps and bounds along the Martial Path, and while he was still no match for Bai Qi, perhaps he would have a few new surprises to unleash against the Enemy in Pan Si Xing.
Hopefully effective ones at that, for from the looks of things, they would need every bit of help they could get and more...
Chapter Meme