The battle for Pan Si Xing had thus far been a comedy of errors, but Baatar was confident they would still win the day.

His certainty was based on more than just blind faith and empty conviction, for he’d long since learned that no matter how dark the night may be, the morning would always come in time. Any failure short of death was merely a temporary setback, for where there was life, there was hope. An idiom which was more than an empty platitude to Baatar, and instead the adage which he lived by, for the trials and tribulations of Heaven rarely progressed as expected. A lesson little Rain learned before his return to the People, taught to him by the harsh vicissitudes of life and the sadistic guards of the mining camp, but it took Baatar a great deal more time and a significant investment of Mother’s effort to teach him the same.

He remembered his lessons fondly, when Mother would appear with a practice weapon in hand and hurl it at him without warning. An exercise to teach him that battle and bloodshed would never wait until he was ready to begin, so he should instead be prepared at all times. Then there was the sparring itself, which was always just brutal and unforgiving enough for him to survive to the end, but only barely. Some thought Mother cruel for pushing him so far, but he relished every second of their time spent together because it was the only time he ever truly felt like himself. To his feral, youthful mind, life in the village had seemed so complicated, but only because he refused to accept the rules as they were rather than as he envisioned them. In his mind, his bedroom was sacrosanct, a place for him and him alone, yet so many people refused to heed his warnings to keep out. He’d clearly marked the room and everything within as his, carving his name into the wood the moment he learned how to write it, yet time and time again, people ignored his warnings to keep out and somehow he was always at fault for defending his territory. It wasn’t right, or at least, he felt it wasn’t, but life refused to conform to his standards and it drove him mad having to live by someone else’s rules.

But with sword in hand, the world made sense again, for only one rule remained: endure. That was all. Against Mother, defeat did not mean death, but there were times when the pain and suffering made him wish otherwise. Their matches would always go on until he could no longer stand, most times because he was unconscious and required Healing, and yet, he never fled from Mother’s approach. No, instead he craved it. Yearned for it even. Feared she would lose interest and wanted nothing more than to recover quicker so they could fight again. Every night he thought of how to put what he’d learned to good use and possibly return some of his pain to her. Not because he hated or resented her and wanted to see her hurt, but because in doing so, he would be one step further along the Martial Path and one step closer to standing alongside her, where he would finally have the qualifications to repay her for the care and attention she’d bestowed upon him.

Yes, the care. Even though he’d been little more than a child, Baatar knew no one else wanted him around. He saw it in their eyes whenever they looked at him, not seeing a young pup who wouldn’t survive on his own, but rather a monster hiding in human flesh. They approached him like they would approach a wild wolf, only when necessary and with caution and reluctance. They left his food at the door rather than invite him to eat with them, yet barged in to take whatever they pleased instead of asking him to bring his clothes or laundry out. He was a wild, temperamental child, this was true, but he was still human, still a person with feelings and emotions. Everyone else only saw the wolf and treated him as such, all the while ignoring how people and wolves both yearned for camaraderie and affection.

Not so with Mother. Aside from the first time she appeared without warning to drag him out for a fight, she always came at the same time every morning so he knew when to meet her. When he approached, she met his eyes until he could no longer match her intensity, and never flinched when he snapped or snarled. What’s more, after all the fighting was done, she’d often check his injuries none too gently and declare he was fine enough, before punctuating the seemingly dismissive statement with a gentle pat on the head or cheek. She called him pup, but she treated him like a person, and that, more than anything, was why Baatar cherished their relationship so much. She was family long before she formally adopted him, and by showing him what it was like to be accepted, she made him want to be a part of the People and belong to a community that looked out for their own. In wolf terms, the People were his pack, but in order to convince them to accept him, he had to learn not to let the wolf always be in control. So he fought his bestial urges and struggled to learn the lessons of the human world, but it was a long and arduous process indeed. Then, when he finally learned to be human, he discovered Balance demanded he let the wolf out to roam from time to time, which was the only reason why he could bear to part with his beloved rose and the comforts of home to wander the cold and unforgiving landscapes of the North.

Over the years of patrols and conflicts, Baatar learned to always plan for every situation, but he also learned that those plans rarely ever survived past the first minute of conflict. Life had a way of surprising you no matter how prepared you might be. Even the greatest strategist in the world couldn’t predict what would come next, like the time Mother brought him to Shen Bin to see the megalodon terrorizing the coast, then told him to go kill it before pitching him into the water. He was seventeen at the time, and the massive, whale-sized shark could have swallowed him whole without even noticing his presence, but he eventually emerged victorious against his aquatic foe, albeit with more than a little help from Mother.

Now that had been a battle to ignite the blood, and he came out of it with a Spiritual Heart to forge his first weapon, the Bloody Fang forged from the tooth of a megalodon. Baatar had something similar planned for little Rain, but his daughter was too protective of her little brother and refused to let it happen. What a shame, for it would have been a memorable bonding experience for them both, and Baatar ended up missing out on Rain’s first hunt for a Spiritual Beast.

Having gone into the excursion expecting to stand on the beach and watch everything unfold, that day taught Baatar that expectations had little to do with reality. There were few certainties in life, so he wasn’t all too surprised when their plans fell apart the moment they arrived outside Pan Si Xing. Even though the army had successfully made their way into the mine-shafts unnoticed, the element of surprise would not be as effective as they’d hoped it would. The boy’s spyglasses came in handy here, allowing the scouts to survey the city from afar without alerting the Enemy with their Scrying. Preliminary reports discovered that there was no singular building that stood out as a command centre for the Enemy leadership, meaning they had no inkling of where Bai Qi might go to assert control over his forces. This proved to be the first wrinkle in their grand scheme, but far from the last, because if they couldn’t find Bai Qi to kill him quietly, then they had no choice but to lure him out.

Which would be difficult, because as unpredictable as life might be, the Defiled were even less predictable, and Bai Qi was undoubtedly Defiled. One who exhibited a remarkable amount of self-control, but Defiled nonetheless, for his actions spoke volumes to his mindset. Before embarking on this crusade West, Baatar had studied his foe in depth by reading everything there was to read about the Lord of Martial Peace. Cruel, but effective was the best way to describe his actions, a man who would happily slaughter thousands today to theoretically save millions down the line. His cruelty was not reserved only for his enemies either, for he was equally cruel to himself and his soldiers, demanding nothing short of excellence and punishing any and all who fell short. During his claim to fame in the rebellion of his hometown of Yique, Bai Qi had been but a mere Captain of only twenty-two years, hardly older than little Rain was now, yet he convinced two dozen of his peers to infiltrate the rebel Magistrate’s palace in the dead of night to kill the rebel leader. Only five of his comrades survived to see the next morning and their personal accounts of the action were terrifying to behold, for it painted a picture of an indomitable young Warrior who would stop at nothing to succeed.

To access the Magistrate’s inner sanctum, young Bai Qi crawled through several hundred metres of sewage tunnels that led into the heart of the palace. Once there, he emerged from the ladies quarters where the Magistrate’s wives, concubines, and younger children slept, all of whom were slaughtered in their sleep to keep them from raising the alarm. This was before Bai Qi knew the Magistrate was Defiled mind you, for he’d gone into this mission without any notion that his foes were anything other than the rebels they appeared to be. Had they been guards and Warriors, then Baatar could understand the need, but killing women and children in their sleep for no reason other than convenience was beyond unconscionable, but not to Bai Qi. In his eyes, anyone enabling or supporting the Magistrate’s rebellion was equally as guilty as he, a black and white outlook that left much to be desired. The servants in the palace hardly had any choice in the matter, nor did the Magistrate’s children, and while they would have likely been sentenced to nine-familial Extermination in the end, Bai Qi hadn’t known that going in.

Matters only escalated once they were inside the palace proper, and he was quick to sacrifice his allies in ones and twos to further his mission’s success. None of the accounts said as much of course, but Baatar could read between the lines and understood Bai Qi’s thought process well enough. Everything was done in the name of the greater good, whether it be the death of an innocent child or that of his comrades and peers. Guards were killed and fires set, distractions to draw his target out of hiding, and once the Magistrate revealed himself, Bai Qi did not hesitate to sacrifice a dozen more of his comrades in one fell swoop to make the Magistrate think assassins had tried and failed to strike him down. Only then did Bai Qi emerge from hiding to take the Magistrate’s head, attacking as soon as his foe lowered his guard before fleeing into the night once the deed was done. In the end, they uncovered evidence of a Defiled plot through sheer luck and happenstance, for in his haste to escape, Bai Qi stumbled into a secret passage which led to a hidden room filled with all manner of horrific atrocities, including an entire shelf filled with perfectly preserved human heads.

This was where the Defiled Magistrate brought his victims to satisfy his dark urges, and being a local of the city, Bai Qi recognized the head of the city’s previous Magistrate sitting on the shelf, the current rebel’s father who supposedly died in his sleep. This was indisputable proof that the Magistrate was Defiled, and Bai Qi brought the head out to show his superiors. Against the wishes of his comrades no doubt, for of the five other survivors, three were also local born Warriors with families residing in the city, which was why they’d been willing to go along with his crazed scheme. The alternative would have been to fight the rebels and risk their families getting caught in the crossfire, to be used as hostages by the rebel Magistrate or condemned as accomplices when the Imperial Army retook the city. Knowing this, those three local survivors would have also known that revealing the rebel Magistrate as a foul minion of the Father would result in a Purge being called down on the city. While their official accounts made little to no mention of this fact, Baatar sensed they resented Bai Qi for not being more circumspect and holding off on passing this information along so they would all have time to get their families to safety.

It didn’t help that Bai Qi himself had family in the city as well, parents who were eventually put to the sword by his own hand, if he was to be believed. Madness, others might call it, but from this and so many more records of Bai Qi’s career, Baatar could see that the Lord of Martial Peace was a man of order and control, one who adhered to a set of personal rules and would abide no deviation from them. Baatar knew this because he’d once been that same sort of person, one who refused to adapt to the world around him and believed the world should adapt to him instead, Thankfully, Mother taught him otherwise, but unfortunately for the Empire, there was no one to teach that same lesson to Bai Qi, so when his world of order and control fell apart in the face of the Defiled invasion, his courage and conviction went with it. Easier to accept a lie than admit the truth, so Bai Qi rejected the possibility that his methods and actions were wrong and decided that the world was wrong instead.

Or at least that was how Baatar interpreted the man’s recent actions and decisions. There were many whispers of Bai Qi’s oddly civilized behaviour and apparent self control, but this was merely the facade he wanted the Empire to see. The Enemy was recruiting from not only the ranks of the West, but from all the outer provinces at once. They tried to gain a foothold in Sanshu with Yo Ling and the Golden Highlands Council, as well as in Central with the Canston Trading Group. It would come as no surprise to learn that the fussy and fastidious Marshal Huong had quashed a similar attempt in the South, to say nothing of how the Enemy succeeded with the Mataram Clan in the West. This only went to show the great lengths the Uniter went to in order to prepare for his invasion, which was why Bai Qi continued to maintain the illusion of control, an illusion Baatar hoped to shatter today.

According to the boy, their foe, the monster of legend and former Imperial Scion Zhen Shi saw the outer provinces as a mere stepping stone towards his true goal, but Baatar was of a mind to turn it into a stumbling block instead.

Hurtling through the air at a breakneck pace, he unleashed a devastating blow at Bai Qi the moment his feet touched the sand. A risk, waiting so long before swinging his Crescent Moon pole-axe, but without the added strength from bracing his feet against the ground, he would have been blown aside by Bai Qi’s counter-attack. Their weapons collided with the force of a cannonball and numbed him from hands to shoulders, but a forceful exhale and effort of Reverberation rid him of the brunt of the aftermath. As his feet dug a furrow through the sandy streets until he came to a stop, he grimaced at the stark contrast to his foe, for Bai Qi’s feet remained planted where he stood. Not quite a reversal of positions from their initial exchange since Baatar had not been sent flying, but it was enough for the traitor to regain some measure of face at the cost of a minor internal injury.

A fool to care so much about appearances even now. In doing so, Bai Qi was committing to not just mere victory, but a victory achieved with grace and aplomb. A bold declaration and a grave insult to Baatar for his skills to be held in such contempt, but rather than anger, he only felt delight. Much as he would relish the challenge of a fair and equitable match against a foe of this calibre, there was far too much on the line to indulge himself so. Instead, Baatar would accept any sort of victory here, not because he wasn’t confident in his odds, but because the Empire could not afford even a minor defeat, not so early in the campaign.

Though they’d crossed blades only twice now, Baatar had learned enough to confirm some of Mother’s suspicions regarding Bai Qi’s prodigious strength. In truth, the man was monstrously strong, capable of exerting a tremendous amount of force in a single swing to overpower his opponents. There was no trick there that Baatar could see, merely countless hours of dedicated practice to build up the foundation required to unleash all his Reinforced strength in a single blow, as well as a peerless grasp of precision and timing to aim and Amplify his attacks where they would be most effective. That’s why Baatar’s first attack was able to knock Bai Qi back so far, because he purposefully mistimed his strike to throw Bai Qi off, a trick that would not work a second time now that he was aware of it. During their second exchange, Baatar discovered that his strength was undoubtedly inferior to his foe’s, but as Mother predicted, the discrepancy was not large enough to be the sole determining factor of their match.

“Your father hits harder,” Mother had declared, patting Baatar’s head and ruffling his ears like he was still a child no older than Tate. “But he is slow and unable to match Bai Qi blow for blow. I am faster, but lack the strength and fortitude required to stand toe to toe against him, for even if I do everything right, there is little I can do to defend against his overwhelming power. A poor match up all things considered, especially when you add his Runic armour into the mix, meaning I must kill him decisively with a single strike, else I will not survive his dying blow.”

Which really was the only reason Bai Qi’s head was still attached, because his life was not worth Mother’s in trade. “And you believe I can defeat him?” Baatar had asked, more because he wanted to hear what she had to say rather than he needed the assurances. He still had yet to meet the Warrior he dared not face, for even if Mother meant to take his head, he was confident he could hold out for at least a dozen blows.

Then again, there were many Warriors dead and cremated in decades past who likely believed the same thing, so he wasn’t exactly keen to try his luck. Pride comes before the fall, or so little Rain was known to quip. A rather insightful and wholly jaded observation from a boy his age, but he’d always been older than his years.

“You might,” Mother replied, pinching his cheek for his uppity tone. “You are not as strong as your father, nor fast as I, but you come close on both accounts, so you will fare better than either of us in a direct exchange.” Stroking his cheek in quiet apology for the light pinch from before, Mother’s eyes softened in a way that had once made him jealous of little Mila, and it warmed his heart to know she truly loved him like her own. “Bai Qi is a formidable opponent, pup, so above all else, be sure to return alive. These shoulders are still capable of holding the Heavens up a little longer, so do not despair if he proves too difficult to defeat.”

That was the thing about strength and the Martial Path. So many commoners and Warriors believed that strength could be measured with a delineated scale. In their mind, if Warrior One was stronger than Warrior Two, and Warrior Two stronger than Warrior Three, then surely Warrior One could defeat Warrior Three as well. Alas, life was not so simple, for one still had to consider how the strengths and weaknesses of each Warrior matched up. It was always possible for one Warrior to be at a disadvantage against another, only to possess the advantage against a third Warrior of similar strength. Neither Mother nor Father could claim they were confident of defeating Bai Qi in combat, but Baatar’s strengths and weaknesses made him a surprisingly good match for the traitor. Did this mean he was stronger than his parents? Of course not, for they would defeat him nine-hundred and ninety-nine times out of a thousand if they were to cross blades, a fact which Mother took great pride in proving every time they sparred.

Though outwardly Baatar had nodded and agreed with Mother’s advice to err on the side of caution, inwardly, he was determined to kill Bai Qi or die trying. One of them would be rendered unto ashes here in Pan Si Xing, or he would write his name backwards from here on out. Drawing back his Crescent Moon, he unleashed yet another attack at his foe, but this time, it was Bai Qi who was in motion and Baatar’s feet were planted in the ground. The results were as expected, with the traitor sent sliding off at an angle while Baatar didn’t budge a single centimetre. Speed was power, but so too was stability, and in both their cases, they were able to draw more strength from the latter than the former.

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There was a time when Baatar thought himself a failure of a Disciple for having been unable to learn from Mother’s strengths, but she consoled him by saying her job was not to guide him to follow in her footsteps, but to help him find his own way forward instead. Now, Baatar’s Path had brought him here to this mirror match up against Bai Qi, and he could not be any happier. Even their weapons were similar, his Crescent Moon pole-axe against Bai Qi’s Green Dragon Crescent Blade, which was really just a fancy name for a reclining moon-blade, or a single edged curved glaive. The only difference was the addition of nine, thick leaden rings inserted along the back of the blade, supposedly meant to add more weight to what was already a long, heavy, and unwieldy weapon.

The wind whistled through Baatar’s teeth as he bared his fangs in an uncontrolled grin, unable to contain his glee at having found this destined foe, and as he met his opponent’s eyes, he found a similar joy and satisfaction there. A chuckle slipped out, just a small, huff of air that somehow transformed into a full-belly laugh, and Baatar cackled to the high Heavens in thanks for this most welcome of blessings. It wasn’t hysterics, as others might believe, nor had he cracked under the pressure. Instead, he wanted to celebrate this sensation of apprehension and relish the knowledge of his uncertain outcome. How long had it been since he faced a foe who made him feel this way? Against Mother and Father, defeat was all but guaranteed, but his peers could offer him no challenge, yet now he’d finally found a rival worthy of appreciation, for no longer was victory or defeat guaranteed. Only against a Warrior of Bai Qi’s calibre could Baatar unleash his full potential without worrying the battle would end too soon, and he thanked the Mother Above for providing him with this most fulfilling trial and tribulation.

It was a lonely Path to the Martial Peak, but even lonelier for Baatar who had no one to walk it with. For too long, he forged ever onwards while unrivalled by his peers yet wholly outclassed by his elders, but now, Bai Qi had given him the gift of uncertainty once more. Victory or defeat could go either way, an outcome which would be determined through skill, strength, determination, and luck, the prospect of which had Baatar trembling from head to toe in excitement.

Once his laughter was played out and his emotions in check once again, Baatar nodded at his foe in wide-eyed anticipation. “Thank you,” he said, brandishing the Crescent Moon in a figure eight to stretch his muscles and clear away the last of his nervous jitters. “Do not disappoint.” The effect his statement had on Bai Qi was telling indeed. His pride wounded by the disdainful words, his mask of control slipped ever so slightly as his fury reared its ugly head. A flaring of the nostrils and widening of the eyes, followed by physically swallowing his rage and response, but Baatar did not care for whatever words he might have.

The time for talk was over and done with.

The time for action had come.

Shifting forward a single step, Baatar stopped in place to gauge his opponent’s response. Their earlier exchanges already proved that in a clash between the two of them, the immobile Warrior held the upper hand, and since Baatar lacked the ability to close the distance with confidence now that his foe was guarded and readied, he could only resort to this. Step by careful step he progressed, first one, then two, then a third, only to freeze in place as Bai Qi matched his progress and then some, so that he moved just barely more than Baatar had. A competitive spirit, this Prince of Barbarity, reaffirming just how similar the two of them were, but while there might have been a time when they could have been the best of comrades, they were wolves of opposing packs now, which meant their differences could only be resolved by death. Forward they moved, one after the other, creeping closer and closer to one another with the utmost care, for deception was also a valid part of a Warrior’s strength. It wasn’t that neither of them cared to trick the other, but rather that neither one took up the other’s bait, whether it be a foot too far forward or a neck exposed ever so temptingly as to invite the other to strike. The soldiers, civilians, and Defiled watching might only see two Warriors slowly advancing upon one another centimetre by centimetre, but Baatar and Bai Qi had exchanged almost a hundred and fifty moves in their minds alone.

A swing aimed at Bai Qi’s neck would leave him open to the counter thrust. A knee presented too far forward invited a low strike that could easily be countered with an overhead slash. Baatar’s weapon dipped low, Bai Qi countered by shifting his stance to the right, which forced Baatar to readjust the placement of his next step on the fly. Move by move, they tested one another without delivering another blow, seeking to learn as much as they could while revealing as little as possible, for in a match of this magnitude in such close range, there would be no time to think much less react once they let loose. Though he learned precious little that he didn’t already know, Baatar was happy to confirm what Mother shared and discover a like-minded opponent on the other end. Relentless aggression, that was Bai Qi’s preferred mode of operation, the same tactic Baatar enjoyed using against his foes, but if this was the case, then he believed he held the upper hand, for he had something the Prince of Barbarity never had.

A peerless, indomitable Mother and Mentor who beat him black and blue more times than he could count, most recently just before they parted ways in Meng Sha. An invaluable aid along the Martial Path, because as little Rain wrote in his primer, “You learn more from a single defeat than a hundred victories, for failure will help uncover the flaws which need to be fixed.”

Seizing the initiative, Baatar launched a sequence of attacks he devised during his approach, one tailored specifically to target his opponent’s strengths. The opening two-handed slash was merely a feint, one he pulled short to line the tip of the Crescent Moon with Bai Qi’s throat and deliver a deadly thrust. His foe responded as expected, curtailing his counter to the initial slash and actively parrying the thrust aside rather than rely on his armour to block it. This wasn’t merely pride, but conservation of Chi, for it cost him less to parry than to let his Runic Armour bear the brunt of the blow. Better if he’d side-stepped, but he foresaw the trap laid out by Baatar whose forward foot was poised to sweep the ankle as he moved. Going with the parry to advance even closer, he pushed up against Bai Qi and locked hafts with the traitor, the blades of their weapons on opposite sides as they pit strength against strength in a match of Reinforcement. There was no room to move or strike, no Amplification or Reverberations to deliver as they engaged in a shoving match like children on the playing field. Both braced their arms, then pushed forward with their chests, because to do otherwise meant falling back and Bai Qi’s pride would not allow it. He had been challenged in an area he’d long since reigned supreme, and he refused to be seen backing down from this match.

But in Baatar’s eyes, this sort of pride was empty and meaningless. Pride alone could not fill a wolf’s belly, nor could you take shelter and rest easy beneath pride. The only pride that mattered was the sort that came alongside success, which meant he was not here to prove his strength. He’d come to Pan Si Xing to win.

A sudden step back followed by a vicious headbutt caught Bai Qi by surprise, one of little Yan’s favourite moves which Baatar co-opted for himself, and he looked forward to seeing the look of delight on her face when he shared the tale at dinner. Keeping close to his foe, he shoved Bai Qi back three steps as the traitor reeled from the attack, but true to his reputation, he gave Baatar no chance to disengage and attack. With their weapons so close together, it was easy to sense any movement before it took place, so Baatar’s attempts to wrest his blade into position to take Bai Qi’s head were easily countered without looking. Everything had gone according to plan for once, and Baatar was even a little surprised, but he didn’t let it stop him from following through. Another one of little Rain’s sayings was ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’, a wise adage many a Warrior failed to adhere to. Most Warriors saw Baatar’s wolf-ears and straightforward demeanour and decided they knew him through and through, a muscle-bound Warrior whose greatest strength came in the form of a furious and relentless offensive. They were wrong, for the wolf’s greatest strength was neither fang nor fury, but cunning flexibility which they employed so often.

So as he manoeuvred his Crescent Moon into position, he let go with one hand and grabbed Bai Qi’s weapon instead, causing his foe to tighten his grip and tense his muscles in preparation to contest him. Then, Baatar released his hold on his opponent’s weapon and retreated with all haste. With Bai Qi still reeling from the headbutt, this opened up enough space for both of them to swing their polearms in the blink of an eye, but Baatar was relaxed and ready to attack, while his foe was tense and frozen in preparation for a struggle that would never come. A simple, one-handed, horizontal chop smashed into Bai Qi’s shoulder, the traitor twisting aside even as the blow was delivered to minimize the impact, but it was still enough to break his stance as Baatar’s Amplified Reverberations travelled down his foe’s shoulder and through his spine to shake him to the core. Using the momentum of his chop to line up for another thrust, Baatar put the full weight of his body behind the attack and lamented as the tip of the Crescent Moon drew blood from Bai Qi’s cheek while poised to pierce clean through his skull.

Too fast. The battle had only just begun, and now it was over too –

Baatar’s impetus came to a crashing halt as the curved blade of his Crescent Moon got caught on the second of nine rings embedded into the back of his opponent’s blade. He’d seen the weapon moving to intercept, but judged that the blade would not arrive in time to stop him from delivering a killing blow. An accurate read, but in a feat of near inhuman precision, Bai Qi angled his weapon so that the ring would catch the tip of the Crescent Moon. A difference of mere centimetres, but that was all it took to get the ring in the way of Baatar’s poleaxe. Normally, one would expect the Honed edge to carve clean through what was supposedly plated lead, but the seemingly unremarkable ring chimed as it strained against the force of his thrust without breaking.

Meaning the ring itself was a Spiritual Weapon.

Nine Spiritual Rings, most likely, because why would he only make one? The Green Dragon Crescent Blade wasn’t one Spiritual Weapon, but ten in total including the glaive itself, all coming together to form a single, super weapon that was greater than the sum of its parts. This was new and unwelcome, for Baatar had no idea what such a weapon could do, but he couldn’t imagine a man like Bai Qi committing so many resources to a fool’s errand. Despite it all, Baatar still strained with effort in an attempt to force his thrust through, but the ring gave Bai Qi ample leverage against the back of his blade, which he used as a fulcrum to force Baatar’s weapon away.

“Good, good,” the traitor declared, his voice shaking with strain as he fought for positioning and leverage Baatar refused to give up without a fight. “You be the first foe to force this Prince into revealing the secret behind the Green Dragon Crescent Blade. Take pride in this accomplishment, Baatar of the People. Yours is a name this Prince will not soon forget.”

And then, with a wrench of his arms, Bai Qi ended the struggle as Baatar ceased resisting against his opponent’s superior strength and leverage to surrender to the flow instead. Both his feet came off the ground as Bai Qi tried to pull the Crescent Moon out of Baatar’s hands, but he didn’t resist and let himself be pulled along and buy time to recover. Cloud-Stepping in place, he barrelled shoulder first into Bai Qi’s chest and grunted as tender flesh met indomitable Runic steel, but the impact freed his weapon from the confines of the ring. An unconventional move Baatar didn’t even need to think up in order to turn the tide around, for in his youth, he spent the better part of a decade trying to force Mother to use an actual weapon instead of her bare hands, which she often used to snatch his sword in her vise-like grip the same way Bai Qi’s Green Dragon Crescent Blade had. This was Baatar’s advantage in this match up, for he had experienced a hundred thousand defeats while Bai Qi had progressed along his path unrivalled. If it was Mother, she would have made Baatar pay dearly to extricate himself, but Bai Qi had never experienced this himself, for he’d never had to use the rings in real combat. A clever trap, but if he expected to win using these silly little schemes, then he was not half the Warrior Baatar thought he was.

In truth, Baatar had failed his son in this regard, for though he wanted to spar with the boy each and every day, little Rain always looked so miserable and unhappy when they were done. The boy was different, for he was not so deeply in love with the Martial Path, but rather resigned to it. To him, combat and sparring was a means to an end, whereas his true love belonged to the mysteries of Chi, Heavenly Energy, and other such esoteric studies, which meant that while constant sparring would help shore up his flaws, his personality meant he would come to resent the training and possibly even slow his progress along the Martial Path. Mother sparring with little Rain was fine, because at least she knew how to hold back, but Baatar would have long since gone overboard in his enthusiasm to spar with his son.

Now was not the time to become distracted however, as Baatar danced about the street to avoid a direct clash against Bai Qi while he gathered his thoughts. The rings might well be the reason why he could hit so hard, some form of extra Amplification or Reverberation, or possibly even Lightening and Stability to boot. No, an angled Deflection was most likely, aimed along the same angle as his attack to add extra impetuous to his swings. Difficult to say for sure without ample testing, but even little Rain could not afford to squander so many precious materials to craft a test weapon. Father might, but Mother kept a tight grip on the purse-strings, so whether she allowed him to squander so much on a curiosity was another thing altogether.

Gritting his teeth as he blocked a swing, Baatar cursed his own distraction. Fight now, contemplate later. Firmly on the back foot, he fell back before Bai Qi’s offensive flurry of blows, the air ringing as his weapon sang and struck. Unable to avoid a confrontation any longer, Baatar unleashed the wolf within and fought with every scrap of skill and fury he possessed. There were no Movements of the Forms that came to mind as he moved, merely his body responding with the Movements he’d engraved into his muscles over decades of practice and repetition, but no matter how strong, agile, fast, or clever he might be, Bai Qi was always there to match him. Through the streets they moved like Wraiths, working Concealment and Cloud-Stepping into their every action as they flew about the battlefield unhinged. No longer could Baatar afford to keep this as a one on one duel, for they were so evenly matched that the unknown variables of the nine rings gave Bai Qi the unshakable upper hand. Strategically retreating before his foe, he tried to maneuver them into position for his allies to lend aid, but he was not the only one with support.

Surprisingly, Rang Min was the first to render assistance, delivering a powerful, two-handed blow that Bai Qi barely blocked in time, the surprise on his face clear for all to see. Immediately after, a small, child-like Demon nicknamed the Dark Child stepped in, and with help from three more Demons it appeared to command, they drove the fearsome former Patriarch away.

The Wedded Exarches stampeded past, unable to land a blow on Bai Qi despite their superlative speed, for his position and spatial awareness enabled him to move out of their path well in advance. The two young Exarches were talented, but too single-tracked in focus, while lacking the finer control needed to go after more agile targets. After three passes, Demons and Half-Demons alike flocked to engage them, and no more aid would be forthcoming for some time, for even though Bai Qi could dodge them, he couldn’t afford the distraction against Baatar.

A Wraith appeared at Baatar’s back, but he noticed it far too late, so late that it was already dead thanks to Jia Yang’s assistance. The man was not the strongest duellist present, but Baatar trusted no one more to guard his back, for once the keening cry of his sabre was raised, only an elite few could ever break through his defence. This was in addition to his superlative perception and flawless positioning, always knowing exactly where he was needed at any given time, a skill which served him well in his speedy ascent through the ranks. They’d come a long way since they first met, when Baatar had readied to take the man’s head in a trial for daring to covet his precious son’s possessions, but he was glad they’d come to terms since.

MuYang’s repeated shots either missed or glanced off Bai Qi’s armour, while some came dangerously close to striking Baatar instead. A Demon threw itself into the fray but died to an errant strike from Baatar, which almost cost him his life as Bai Qi renewed his offensive. The Lawgiver Won Gwang almost took the traitor’s arm off, and might well have had his unconventional man-catcher not gotten caught on the edge of a Runic Bracer. Time and time again, others tried to interfere in their match but were left wanting, and slowly but surely, Baatar’s confidence shrank as he came to terms with his seemingly inevitable defeat. Bai Qi was too strong, too fast, and too clever by far, and though Baatar had come close to killing the traitor, he was no match for the Lord of Martial Strength. There would be no escape here, not for him at least, because there was no one else who could keep him occupied while the Imperials retreated. Surely Hongji would see the writing on the wall and was prepared to order a full withdrawal, so Baatar would sell his life dearly to see that his comrades got as far away as possible before Bai Qi went a hunting.

Truth be told, Baatar’s only regret was that he could not see his son once again. He’d bade farewell to his rose, his daughter, his son-in-law, and grandchildren, as well as everyone else who mattered. The only person he never got a chance to say goodbye to was little Rain, and it pained him to leave things so. What if the boy never woke from his coma, having traded his life for his father’s, only for Baatar to throw it away like a fool blinded by his own hubris.

Bullshit.

Baatar could almost hear the boy cursing in that irreverent manner no one else could pull off, so full of tongue-in-cheek contempt that it was almost endearing. Now this was a sight, a father being scolded by his son for thinking so little of their bond, one that seemed imagined but felt all too real. Regardless if it was truly Rain speaking to him from afar, the exchange brought a smile to Baatar’s face and renewed confidence to his arms, for he could not bear to die without speaking to his son and learning the truth of this interaction. Channelling the Energy of the Heavens, he unleashed a powerful slash which was promptly blocked and trapped by Bai Qi’s rings, but this time, rather than go with the flow, he held fast and struggled for as long as he could to buy the precious seconds he needed.

Then he let go of the Crescent Moon and ducked down while reaching out to take the Bloody Fang in hand, which came whistling out from the building it was buried under. As Bai Qi’s Green Dragon Crescent Blade went wide due to the sudden and unexpected lack of resistance, Baatar delivered a series of blows to his foe’s armoured knee, groin, and midsection. Honed steel shrieked as it glanced off Runic brigantine, but the impact was enough to drive an already reeling Bai Qi even further back as he fought to stay upright, but in doing so, he twisted just right and revealed an opening at his hip which Baatar promptly drove the Bloody Fang into.

Bellowing in pain and rage, Bai Qi took an errant swipe that went wide as he stumbled away, pulling himself off the sword in a spray of crimson blood. Not one to give up the advantage, Baatar pounced upon his foe and gave no quarter as he bashed him this way and that using the superior speed of his short sword. This was his range, so close to his foe that their toes were nearly touching, inside the reach of most other weapons giving him free reign to strike wherever he pleased. Again and again the Bloody Fang raked and prodded Bai Qi’s armour, draining a significant amount of Chi with every attack. It was only a matter of time before the traitor’s Core ran dry, and then his invulnerable Runic armour would be worth less than the metal it’d been crafted from.

Retreat.

There was no hesitation as Baatar leaped back, for he had no reason to doubt the warning. One which almost felt as if it had been delivered by Rain, the same way he chimed in to dismiss Baatar’s melancholic thoughts, with emotions and assurances that went beyond mere words. This was why Baatar wasn’t surprised when Bai Qi’s Green Dragon Crescent Blade swept across at an angle that should have been impossible for the glaive, but that was because it was no longer a glaive. Instead, Bai Qi held a sabre in hand, having separated the blade and hilt from the rest of the glaive that was little more than a staff now. So not ten Spiritual Weapons, but eleven, truly Bai Qi was full of surprises, as well as words he felt necessary to bandy about.

“A most worthy foe, you be,” the traitor intoned, speaking with that slow, self-important cadence he so loved to use. “But this Prince has no more patience for your antics. Two secrets you have forced this Prince to reveal, and as reward, you have the honour to bear witness to a third.” The wind rose and the sand swirled about his feet before gathering into the palm of his hand, and it took Baatar a moment to recognize that these movements were not natural, a revelation which was soon followed by the opening of a sinkhole inside his stomach. “Yes,” Bai Qi said, taking great delight in the despair he saw in Baatar’s eyes. “This Prince be Blessed by Sand, for the West be my Domain.”

At least this explained why he was so talented at Reinforcement, blessed by Wind and Earth as he was. ‘Well son,’ Baatar thought, calling his Crescent Moon pole-axe back to hand as he readied to sell his life dearly while hoping the boy could actually hear him. ‘Your father is not so proud as to refuse any help you might have to offer.’

Alas, the boy remained distressingly quiet, but Baatar didn’t blame him for falling silent. ‘I love you son,’ he thought and Sent, hoping the boy could hear him. No more needed to be said, just those three simple words, for they had a magic all their own.

And with that, Baatar shut out any and all distractions as he readied to sell his life dearly.

Chapter Meme 1

Chapter Meme 2