Seated in the stifling wagon, Mila fought hard to hold her tears back as she held Papa’s hand and prayed.

Out here in the West where the blazing sun and dry desert heat could sap the moisture right out of your body in less than an hour, tears were a luxury she could not afford. The fact that she was here by his side instead of out commanding her retinue was already liability enough, and she refused to become even more of a burden by falling victim to dehydration, or worse, drinking more than her fair share of their limited water reserves. Papa wasn’t dead, nor was he in danger of dying, so there was no need to cry. That’s what she told herself at least, but seeing him laid out across the wagon floor reminded her of the wagons full of corpses she’d seen far too many times. Sanshu, Sinuji, JiangHu, Meng Sha, and more, with bodies stacked six or seven high until the wagon bed was overflowing, it was all too easy to overlay those horrible sights over-top her comatose Papa and imagine what could have been if not for a quirk of fate.

Despite knowing Papa put down his hammer and took up his staff to accompany them on this campaign West, no one told Mila he intended to challenge a Half-Demon Warrior in single combat. Not just any Half-Demon either, but an amber-eyed Exile of the People who single-handedly wounded the Sword Saint Jeong Hyo-Lynn while fighting her and three other Peak Experts at the same time. When Papa stepped forward at Tian Zangli and offered his challenge, Mila’s heart skipped several beats, because even though she knew he was strong enough to stand at Mama’s side, she’d never seen her Papa practice a day in his life, much less fight a life and death duel. No, he’d always been the hardworking breadwinner of the family, toiling for hours on end at his smithy to help arm and fund the Sentinels. With Magistrate Tong Da Hai acting as his intermediary in order to keep his anonymity, Papa became one of the most highly sought after Divine Blacksmiths of the North and earned a fortune selling his services to anyone who could afford him.

Mila spent many a day working as his assistant, working the bellows and stoking the forge while he set his hammer to its rhythmic work, and she loved it every bit as much as she loved the Martial Path. Ninety percent of crafting a Spiritual Weapon took place before even igniting the coals, that’s what he always told her, because a Divine Blacksmith who wasted even a single sliver of the precious Spiritual Heart was no true Divine Blacksmith at all. In stark contrast to his imposing size, Papa was a careful and meticulous man who wielded his hammer with a light and almost dainty touch, for working with steel was not about strength as so many outsiders believed. Rhythm, speed, endurance, and precision were all more important than raw strength when it came to forging weapons, and he was always urging her to be more gentle when working at the anvil. “Steel has a life all its own,” he’d told her, as his eyes drank in the hot orange glow of an ingot basking in the flames. “And the Spiritual Heart, that there’s a gift from Heaven. Ye can’t force a merger between the two by beatin’ them both senseless, the same way ye can’t get a quin to run faster by whippin’ it bloody. No, much like the crop, the hammer is just a bit of gentle encouragement, but every Spiritual Heart’s got a different temperament, so best to go slow and careful while learnin’ it.”

When not working at the forge, he was often found with a drink in hand while playing chess or doing handiwork alongside one of his many friends, for he was a warm and cheerful man with smiles aplenty for everyone who crossed his path. Mama was a kind-hearted and compassionate woman, but she was ‘too shy to show it’, or so Papa loved to say, which was why he worked extra hard to be neighbourly and amicable to everyone he saw. He was always the first to show up when he knew someone needed a hand, oftentimes without even needing to be asked, and Mila often came across him helping someone patch a roof or build a shed while she trained with Mama in and around the village. What’s more, aside from cooking and laundry, Papa pretty much handled all the domestic work around the house, which gave Mila the impression that he was a house-husband who supported his more military minded wife.

So upon hearing him challenge the fearsome Half-Demon who almost killed the Sword Saint herself, Mila almost rode out with Zabu to bring her Papa back, because clearly he was out of his mind. She would have Sent something in a panic if Sister-in-Law Alsantset hadn’t been ready and waiting to reassure her, clearly having been forewarned of Papa’s actions. “Do not fear,” the cool tigress had said, reaching over to take Mila’s hand in her own and offer a comforting squeeze. “Your mother would never have agreed to this course of action if they were not confident of success.”

But confidence was no guarantee of success or survival in a battle between Peak Experts, much less against a foe strong enough to seize the upper hand and escape unscathed in a four against one match. Then there was the familiarity exhibited during their verbal exchange, one the Half-Demon thankfully carried out using the language of the People. Even though the use of their native tongue hinted at a link between the amber-eyed Half-Demon and the People, this was little more than a confirmation that the Half-Demon’s distinctive eye colour was more than just an unfortunate coincidence, especially in light of Papa’s personal challenge. As things stood, the soldiers under Mama’s command were already gossiping like bored housewives in a knitting circle, but they would have so much more to talk about if they knew what the Half-Demon had said.

“Can it be my father is busy with other affairs?” The Half-Demon had asked, his pompous and sarcastic tone making it clear he already knew the truth. “If only he showed so much concern for his own son, then perhaps matters might not have come this far.”

His own son, implying the Half Demon was related to someone among the People caring for a son that was not his own. Mila’s first thought was someone with an adopted child, of which there were many, but that would make no sense. The Half-Demon was clearly an exile, but no member of the People had been exiled over the course of Mila’s life, so how would this Half-Demon know what his father was up to more than twenty years after the fact? The only way this was possible was if the Half-Demon’s father was one of the public faces of the People here in the Empire, a list that was woefully short once you accounted for the fact that amber-eyes were only inherited by the child if both mother and father had them as well.

So unless the Half-Demon was much older or younger than he appeared, there were only a handful of elders who fit the bill, the most prominent of which was Rain’s warden and bodyguard, Naaran.

Of course, Mila could be wrong and completely off base, because maybe the Half-Demon had scouted his father out on his own, but she had a gut feeling that she was right. More to the point, this raised questions as to Rain’s parentage, for now Mila and every other Sentinel present suspected his father and mother were also exiles. That would explain how a twelve-year old Rain ended up as a slave, likely sold or abandoned by his exiled parents, who might well have been Defiled to boot, a theory which made far too much sense to dismiss out of hand. It mattered little to Mila herself, because she loved her husband dearly and knew he was no Defiled traitor leading them to their deaths, but the People were an insular bunch at heart. Though they’d long since come to accept Rain, there were still those who called him ‘foundling’ and other less than savoury terms despite having done so much and come so far up in the world.

To be fair, being the son of Defiled exiles was far worse than being just a lost foundling, for the latter was a cause for celebration, while the former was someone to best be quietly rid of.

At least now Mila knew why there were precious few amber-eyed individuals in their forties to sixties among the People, because apparently they’d been exiled prior to her birth. Most likely for suspicion of Defilement, the same way they almost exiled Rain, the campaign for which made a lot more sense now that Mila knew what she did. Even though she and many other youths would have been ignorant to Rain’s background, surely the adults and elders all suspected at the very least. No wonder Rain had so much trouble getting accepted into the community, because even though he was socially awkward and reclusive, the People were one to look after their own, yet few ever cared to reach out to Rain. How would he take this news? Not well, she assumed, for her husband was a depressive man who did so love to overthink things.

Then again, maybe not. Rain had never expressed any desire to learn who his parents were, which Mila only now realized was strange considering his boundless curiosity regarding almost everything else. This was a man who conducted a widespread tooth-extraction experiment in a bid to prove that teeth did not naturally grow back, so for him to never vocalize a desire to know who his parents were or how he ended up on auction as a slave was out of character to say the least. Perhaps he remembered more than he let on, or perhaps he subconsciously avoided the topic due to having suppressed the memories of his childhood, but regardless of the reason, Mila suspected Rain might not be as surprised as she initially thought.

Unfortunately, after the Half-Demon showed himself and voiced his telling questions, Papa threw himself into battle and Mila no longer had time to ask questions. While Papa and the Half-Demon traded blows over Tian Zangli, Mila followed Alsantset’s lead alongside the rest of the Sentinels as they manoeuvred into position on the south-west side of the city. The din of battle was near deafening despite only two combatants taking part, with Papa’s staff ringing far louder than his hammer ever did as he battered his foe all about the battlefield. Every time Mila looked up and saw his afterimage in the skies, she almost fainted out of sheer fright, for he blazed a trail all over the city over the course of his epic exchange. Unable to match Papa’s raw strength, the Half-Demon led him all about on a merry chase, and despite being unable to follow the details of their actions, Mila saw enough to know that Papa had long since overstepped his bounds. Fighting over the city itself seemed like a foolish endeavour, for no one expected the Enemy to honour the rules of engagement, especially in a match of this calibre. Martial Warriors had their own pride to maintain, but the Defiled were crazed killers clad in human skin, and these armoured Half-Demons even more so.

And yet, honour the rules they did as Papa’s duel stretched on for almost a quarter of an hour without interference, long enough for both sides to exchange a thousand blows each at the very least. For Mila, it might well have been the longest fifteen minutes of her life, because even with the State of Enlightenment stretching each second to feel ten times longer than usual, she was unable to do more than catch a glimpse of Papa’s hulking figure. Not knowing how he fared was the hardest part of all, so when they finally arrived at the first lull in their duel and separated to catch their breath, Mila heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing Papa emerge unscathed.

The same could not be said of the Half-Demon exile, whose unholy armour was cracked and broken in multiple places, most prominently all along his pale and sinewy left arm which dangled limply at his side. The black chitin radiated a dark glow as caustic Ichor flowed out of every fracture and fissure, hissing as it produced steam at the mere touch of air, yet somehow leaving the Exile’s pale skin untouched. That alone was enough to prove he was less than human, but despite Papa emerging with the upper hand, Mila’s relief was short-lived. Before she even finished her sigh, those amber-eyes turned to her and crinkled in sadistic glee, causing her breath to freeze in her throat. There, from across the city, the Half-Demon held her gaze just long enough for Papa to notice before disappearing from sight, and the next thing Mila saw was a spray of blood as a pointed spear burst out of Papa’s broad, dependable back as he took a deadly blow in her stead.

Her memory of the next few seconds were a complete blur, but a single thrust was only the beginning. The Half-Demon followed up with a barrage of attacks that left Papa’s bones and organs exposed in at least a half-dozen locations, with each successive injury more grievous than the last, but he defended himself and Mila until help arrived to drive the Half-Demon back. Tokta was there to treat Papa’s wounds, and so was Mama, and Mila remembered Alsantset bellowing orders and leading the Sentinels away to set fire to the city, but she herself stayed by Papa’s side from beginning to end. All she could do was cradle his head and utter indecipherable apologies between gasping sobs, as it was all Mila’s fault for lacking the strength to defend herself, a fool who didn’t even have her shield in hand despite standing on the front lines of the battlefield.

This was not her way, self-blame and recrimination, but the truth was that it was her fault Papa almost died. No one else blamed her, but she knew this to be true, because she could have easily avoided being targeted by simply standing a little further back in the crowd. Even though her red hair still made her stand out, she would not have been so tempting a target with so many bows and spears between her and the Half-Demon, and Papa would not have had to use his body to block what would have been a killing blow. Not only that, she should’ve had her weapons at the ready, but she spent the entire duel clutching at her bow like a fool, and when the Half-Demon made eye contact, she could do naught but freeze up like a fainting goat before the tiger.

What use was there in being first, second, or even third among your peers when your strength amounted to nothing in the end? It was so demoralizing to know how far she had yet to go despite having achieved so much along the Martial Path. She’d been so proud about having Formed her Natal Palace so young, marking her as a prodigy few could match in any generation, much less her own, but her strength was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Alsantset was only twelve years older, yet she had not been caught off guard by the Half-Demon’s attack, already pulling Mila away to safety even as the spear emerged from Papa’s back. Then there was Gerel, who was only a little older than Alsantset yet even stronger still, emerging from Concealment with a superlative thrust that almost pierced clean through the Half-Demon’s throat. Mila hadn’t even seen him appear with her own eyes and only learned about it second hand, as the Sentinels were quick to boast about the exchange. The exile’s eyes had widened in shock at his close brush with death, and with his armour cracked and leaking even as he fell back from Gerel’s furious onslaught, he could do naught but flee for the safety of Tian Zangli, which resulted in the talented Demon Reaper letting loose his frustrations on the helpless Defiled sent to bar his path.

Which made it clear to Mila that Gerel was personally invested in killing the Half-Demon exile. Despite being the most talented Warrior of his generation, Gerel always kept himself apart from the village and only ever emerged to join the Iron Banner on patrol, but she always thought it was because he was an orphan who never found a connection to hold onto. Now, she knew better, and once she had a thread to tug on, she could not help but note how many times she or someone else had noted how similar Gerel and Rain were in appearance. It’d been much less obvious before when Rain was thin and gaunt, but now, they could almost be brothers, or cousins at the very least. Even more telling was how Gerel had been the one to bring Rain on stage during the ceremony to acknowledge him as one of the People, all those years ago when the Iron Banner brought a foundling home. At the time, no one thought anything of it, but now, Mila found it strange that the anti-social Gerel would volunteer to take part in a ceremony that had nothing to do with him.

Unfortunately, Mila knew next to nothing regarding Gerel’s parents or family, nor was anyone in a mood to speak of it. After Papa almost died, Mama led her army to set fire to Tian Zangli before escaping south to avoid pursuit. It was very much a hit and run engagement, one meant to lure the Mataram Patriarch YuGan out into battle, but the Enemy did not take the bait even after Mama pushed their animals to appear vulnerable and near exhaustion. What’s more, Mila spent all of her time at Papa’s side, where Tokta was the only person who came to visit, and he uncharacteristically refused to answer any of Mila’s questions. “It is not my story to share, sweet child,” he said, patting her on the head and ruffling her ears like he did when she was younger. “If your mother thinks you should know, she will tell you herself, but do not press her just yet, for she still has an army to command and cannot afford any distraction just yet.”

And so Mila sat in idle silence by her father’s side, plagued by her doubts and insecurities. Long hours passed without event, and her mood only grew darker and darker. Then, she felt Rain reach out to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his touch before realizing she’d only imagined his presence, which quite nearly broke the dam holding her tears back. Oh how she yearned to rest her head upon his shoulders and just sink into his warm embrace, to have him stroke her hair and tell her everything would be okay, but he was still unconscious back in Meng Sha and out of reach. “I miss you so much,” she whispered, feeling foolish for talking to the empty air.

“...I ain’t dead yet, lass, so don’t go writin’ me off so soon.”

Jumping at the sound of Papa’s gruff and gravelly voice, Mila rushed over to his side with a squeal. “Papa!” she said, her tears finally spilling out despite all her efforts to hold them in. “You’re awake.”

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“Aye, and itching something fierce.” That brought a frown to Mila’s face, and Papa cracked open his good eye and smiled. “Now where’d me bright little lass gone to with her beautiful smile? None of yer tears now, yer Papa ain’t goin’ nowhere just yet.”

Too ashamed to admit she’d been talking to her absent husband, Mila held Papa’s hand to her cheek and cried. “I know Papa. Sorry for being so silly. I should’ve had my shield ready and stayed further back. I won’t do it again, I promise, so you just rest okay?”

“Bah.” Pursing his lips until they cracked, he eyed her sideways and said, “Yer startin’ to sound like yer husband now, always takin’ blame for things outside his reach. That was a Half-Demon who fought toe to toe against the Sword Saint herself, someone who might well be a match for yer Mama, and ye think you could’ve blocked his attack? Don’t be foolish, girlie.”

Rather than argue, she moved to help Papa lift his head and carefully raised a water-skin to his lips. “Drink slowly,” she admonished without acknowledging anything he said, a useful trick she learned from Mama. “You haven’t had a drop of water in hours now, but you’ll do more harm than good if you choke on it, and then Uncle Tokta will have my hide.”

“Bah,” Papa exclaimed after pausing to catch his breath. “He’d sooner tan the hide off his own son than lay a finger on you. Apple of his eye, you are, and there ain’t nothing poor Tenjin can do to compete. Tokta always wanted a daughter but Khorijin almost died giving birth the first time around, so they didn’t want to risk it. Then he saw ye and immediately offered to take ye in if we didn’t want ye, because ye won him over with little more than a smile before ye could even speak.”

Tokta had always been kindly and sweet, but Mila never knew he’d offered to adopt her. A touching sentiment that almost brought a smile to her face, but Papa’s injuries made it difficult to do anything besides frown. In the end, he almost emptied the water-skin before falling back asleep, too tired to even eat the dried fruit Mila had waiting in hand. Healing so many injuries had taken a toll on Papa’s strength, and even the refinement from Taduk’s Spiritual Baths was not enough to make up for it.

At least he was alive though, which might not have been the case if the Half-Demon’s weapons had been coated in Wraith poison, so Mila was grateful for that. Heaving a small sigh of relief, she turned to look out the wagon and realized they were no longer heading south or even south-west. Instead, they’d turned North-east at some point during their travels, which was not a part of the plan. Though curious to know more, Mila kept Papa company as he slept until the wagons stopped for the night, at which point Mama finally made an appearance with two bowls of congee in hand. “Eat,” she said, handing Mila the first bowl while gently waking Papa with a brush of her fingers running across his cheeks, a gesture that reminded Mila of her own husband once again.

They said nothing as Mama fed Papa and Mila ate her own meal, and instead, they sat in comfortable silence and took solace in each other’s company. Others might think Mama heartless for not coming to see her wounded husband sooner, but if she had, then she no doubt would’ve been criticized by the stupid Southern Marshal for being overly emotional and unsuited to lead. Mila understood and accepted as much, and she also knew that Mama would’ve been right here by her side if Papa’s condition had been any worse, but she was the Commander of the army and had responsibilities to attend to before going to see her wounded husband.

Even then, it was easy to see that Mama felt guilty for not being here sooner, even though neither Mila nor Papa had anything to say. As such, Mila kept her burning questions to herself, even though it cost her more than she cared to admit. When Papa finished the last spoonful of congee, Mama wiped his mouth with a handkerchief before slipping her hand into his with a deep breath. “There has been a development in Pan Si Xing,” she began, and Mila and Papa both tensed in alarm, but Mama did not mince words and continued, “The pup is uninjured save for his pride, for he failed to claim Bai Qi’s head. The traitor general fled the city, and all his forces left with him.”

“Baatar took the city?” Mila exclaimed, perhaps louder than she should have, but Mama would’ve put up a Sound Barrier if she was concerned about eavesdroppers. “How is that possible?”

“Details are scant still,” Mama replied, cracking a half smile that meant she was grinning inside, “But the pup said that the Enemy fled after a light rainfall broke out over the city.” Mila’s first instinct was to blame Taduk, but Mama read her well. “No, not Taduk,” she replied. “Now that the Enemy is aware of his strength, he is no longer able to take direct action without reprisal, which means he is not allowed to take action at all.”

Then it had to be Rain. He was the only person besides Taduk who could summon forth a rainstorm that would send the Enemy fleeing. “He’s still...?” she asked, unable to finish the question, and Mama merely nodded with a grimace, meaning as far as she knew, Rain was still comatose, except...

Raising a hand to her cheek, Mila was reminded of how she mistakenly thought she sensed his presence earlier, but perhaps it hadn’t been a mistake at all.

Tilting her head in question, Mama wordlessly asked if everything was alright, and Mila merely nodded without giving voice to the events. Who knew what the Uniter could hear, whether it be through thoughts, words, or Sendings, so better to keep this to herself until she was sure Rain was up and about. Nodding in acceptance of Mila’s silence, Mama sighed and said, “The problem now is Pan Si Xing is indefensible, and now the pup feels obligated to ensure the safety of its citizens. They are headed back to Meng Sha as we speak, but luckily, the Enemy has withdrawn all its forces, not just the ones stationed in the city. They no longer care to pursue us through the desert and instead have taken to fortifying the surrounding cities, which means we can no longer afford to keep up our offensive without unacceptable levels of risk. This leaves me no choice but to link up with the pup and aid him in his endeavours there.” Reaching over to pull Mila into her embrace, Mama continued, “I’ve given Nanda Bayin command of the infantry forces and tasked him to link up with the pup. His wagons will help speed up their trip to Meng Sha, and you and your papa will go with them.”

Ostensibly because Papa was wounded, but Mama was giving Mila an excuse to reunite with her husband. “What about you Mama?” she asked, wishing she could work up the determination to refuse and continue serving as a Sentinel, but she desperately wanted to see her husband again, especially if he was awake and well.

Cracking a cold and intimidating grin, Mama kissed Mila’s hair and Sent, “Bai Qi and Mataram YuGan have escaped beyond our reach, but one target still remains at large.”

And for a brief, infinitesimal moment, Mila almost pitied the traitor Guard Captain from Sanshu.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening her eyes to the sound of battle and bloodshed yet again, Yan could not even be bothered to lift her aching head.

The siege of Shi Bei had thus far been a battle of endurance, and she struggled to remember how many days it’d been. Two or three, it was difficult to say, because she’d slept and woken at least nine times since the hostilities began. Maybe as much as ten to twelve, but she was too tired to figure it out just yet, but not so tired as to immediately fall asleep again. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and rested as much as she could, for it would soon come time to march into battle yet again, at which point she would need every scrap of stamina she had left to her in order to keep the Enemy tides at bay.

This was a siege unlike any other, for despite being the besiegers, the Imperial Army spent the last few days holding back the Defiled tides. Yes, the Enemy had come spilling out of Shi Bei, because the catapults, crossbows, Nian Zu’s Shooting Star, and Grandpa Du’s newfangled Explosive Wind had all rendered the Enemy’s defensive advantage moot. This had always been the plan going in, to bombard the Enemy forces for as long as they could until the city was reduced to mere rubble, and Grandpa Du’s unexpected advancement only helped matters along. Yan’s heart bled for the Imperial citizens who were caught in the crossfire, to say nothing of the poor souls forced to labour day and night to repair the damages, but Nian Zu was careful to only target the walls that were free and clear of obvious civilian presence. There was no way around it, for regardless of what they did, the people of the West would die, but at least this way, the survivors would at least have a chance at freedom if the city fell to the Imperial forces.

A tall task to be sure, but difficult as it was, Yan was beginning to believe they could win.

The most important factor was the lack of Defiled reinforcements, meaning Lieutenant General Akanai’s master plan was coming along wonderfully. A four or five sleep cycles ago, Nian Zu had announced to the entire army that Tian Zangli had been set ablaze, the smoke from which could just barely be seen from Shi Bei. That prompted a rousing cheer from the troops, but the Enemy had redoubled their efforts and poured almost everything into the offensive, because they knew their only hope for victory was to eliminate the catapults alongside as many Irregulars as possible. Thankfully, defending those had been left to stronger Warriors than she, famed Peak Experts like Grandpa Du, Exarch Gam, and Aunty Jeong among so many others. Yan had long since lost track of how many Wraiths and Demons they’d dispatched since the battle began, for that number should be well into the thousands by now, and yet still the Enemy advanced without end. Tian Zangli was a production base safely ensconced deep behind the front lines, while Pan Si Xing was nothing more than a centrally located command hub, so neither one had a sizable standing army, but Shi Bei was one of the largest Enemy staging grounds and supported tens of millions of Defiled Warriors, both behind its walls and stationed in the surrounding deserts.

Meaning that even without the threat of Enemy reinforcements arriving on the horizon, Nian Zu had his work cut out for him.

That was a burden for taller shoulders to bear however, and Yan only needed to hold the line as commanded. This wasn’t to say she remained wholly ignorant of the overall situation, but after fighting for at least fifty hours in the last seventy two, she was just too tired to seek information on her own. Thankfully, Kyung spent most of his time watching Yan’s back rather than fighting at her side, which meant he had plenty of energy to go back and forth between her camp and Grandpa’s to keep up to date, so when it finally came time for her to crawl out of bed, she emerged from her tent to find him waiting with the latest news on his lips. “Pan Si Xing has fallen,” he Sent, which hit Yan like a hammer to the gut. “Bai Qi escaped, and Baatar is currently escorting the civilians to Meng Sha, while the bulk of Akanai’s forces are headed here to encircle Mao Jianghong before he can escape.” Giving her a pointed look, he added, “This has yet to be confirmed, but the Colonel General has it on good authority that Falling Rain might have personally taken part in the battle of Pan Si Xing, though we believe he still has yet to wake from his coma.”

That was a lot to take in first thing in the morning, even if it was technically time for afternoon tea. Water was too precious to be boiled here however, to say nothing of coal and wood, but Yan couldn’t stomach cold brew so she would have to do without. It didn’t surprise her too much that Rain had done something miraculous once again, but how did he affect a battle while lying unconscious well over two-hundred kilometres away? Why were they so sure it was Rain? If he could affect the battle in Pan Si Xing from such a great distance away, why didn’t he just wake up first, or better yet, make his presence known to her?

Most importantly of all, if Rain had the strength enough to send Bai Qi running for the hills, why didn’t he do the same to Mao Jianghong here and save his beloved wife from this gruelling affair?

“Estimated time of arrival?” Yan asked, wanting to know how much longer they would have to hold out before the cavalry came riding to the rescue. While mounted units had little to offer in a traditional siege, they would cut a swathe through the Defiled out here on the sandy dunes of Shi Bei, to say nothing of the threat heavy cavalry presented to the sprawling encampments stretching out in all directions from the city. Numbers were not the only metric to measure strength by, for under the right conditions, a coordinated cavalry charge could easily kill twenty to thirty times their number of scattered, unarmoured infantry in a single charge, of which the Enemy had plenty to spare.

“Four hours.”

Which was just long enough for Yan to serve out her full shift. This was all Rain’s fault somehow, Yan just knew it in her heart, but she still yearned to toss her responsibilities aside and head straight to Meng Sha just in case he was already awake. Putting aside such thoughts for now, Yan strode out to meet with Sutah and check on how the kids were doing, the answer to which was ‘not great’. Her soldiers were tired and spent from all this non-stop fighting in the oppressive desert heat, which wouldn’t be so terrible if they weren’t strictly rationing their water too. The first supply wagons from the Central Citadel had come and gone, but until they had a surplus worth shaking a stick at, it was always better to be safe than sorry. If push came to shove, the Enemy could launch a suicidal attack targeting the Imperial water wagons, and then everyone would be in dire straits, for aside from the sizable oasis Shi Bei was built around, there was no source of water large enough to sustain so many soldiers.

Thankfully, the Enemy was not so desperate yet, and Liu Xuande had the foresight to hide these vital supplies well, so well in fact that even Grandpa Du couldn’t uncover where they were hidden. This led Yan to believe the water was being Concealed by a Divinity, since that was the only explanation that made sense, which did nothing to blunt Grandpa Du’s enthusiasm, though she had no idea why he was so hell-bent on finding the water. Martial Pride, perhaps, or maybe he’d made a bet with Exarch Gam to pass the time, but regardless of his reasons, Yan wished he could find it just so she knew how much water they had to spare. Drinking a small mouthful at a time was hardly satisfying, and she allowed herself to indulge a little more only because she knew she would get another full one soon enough at the end of her next shift. The kids were less understanding regarding their constant thirst, but Sutah and the rest of her under-commanders had matters well in hand. In an ideal world, Yan would have given each of her soldiers the benefit of the doubt and handed out individual water skins, but she also understood that the average soldier was trained not to think because thoughts got in the way of obedience. Better safe than sorry, so she oversaw the distribution of water while commiserating with her kids, but without promising anything she couldn’t deliver.

When it came time to fight, Yan led from the forefront as per usual and unleashed a devastating Sanguine Whirlwind on the packed Defiled troops, buying enough breathing room for the soldiers already fighting to fall back so that her kids could take their place. The first time she did this, her kids had cheered her on and fought like Warriors possessed, but after three days of constant fighting, they lacked the energy and enthusiasm to spare. All she got for her efforts was an acknowledging shout as her kids pressed forward into the teeth of the Enemy and a soft sigh from the soldiers returning to camp to rest. The constant fighting and threat to their lives was almost too much to bear, so the easiest way to endure was to pointedly ignore it unless stuck in the thick of things. Even Yan couldn’t find joy in her accomplishments anymore, having killed who knows how many thousands of the Enemy by now, but still they came in droves.

So disheartened by her lacklustre impact on the battle, Yan almost let her guard down as she backed off to recover, but luckily Kyung didn’t even know how to write ‘relax’. Shoving her none to gently aside, he brandished his sabre and cut down not one, not two, but five Wraiths in succession, a sizable force dispatched to take her life. Twirling shield and battle-fan both, Yan gathered the Air and readied to unleash it upon her foes, and none too soon either. Materializing seemingly out of thin air, a massive bestial Demon lunged at her with fangs and talons bared. Having engaged the Wraiths, Kyung was in no position to defend her, but Yan was no helpless maiden in perpetual need of rescue. With a wave of her battle-fan, she summoned a Wind Blade that slammed into her Demonic foe, some unholy melding of wolf and snake, but despite carving out a furrow that almost severed the Demon’s burly front paw, her attack was unable to shift its momentum away.

But she would not die so easily, for she was Du Min Gyu’s Terminal Disciple.

Pushing her Lightening as far as it would go, she summoned the wind to carry her away from danger. To the soldier’s watching, it would appear as if she’d been lifted up and carried away by a giant invisible hand, but all she did was hop to the right and let her Chi handle the rest. Though still a ways away from matching Grandpa Du’s feat of drifting on a breeze, her mastery over the Wind meant she could accelerate faster than most of her peers, though she couldn’t maintain her top speed for more than a second or two. Still, an instantaneous burst of speed was nothing to sneer at, and she smirked as the Demon was set upon by the elites of her retinue, their sabres, spears, and swords making short work of the creature, which was clearly built more for speed than durability.

This wasn’t the first time the Enemy had targeted her on the battlefield, nor was she the only one singled out for these attacks. Da’in, Ken-Shibu, Yong-Jin, Wu Gam, and so many other young talents had come under attack, not because the Enemy felt threatened by their talents, but because Mao Jianghong was trying to force their protectors out into the open and get a better read on the forces arranged against him. Even though Grandpa Du took his tea and meals in plain view every day, it wasn’t as if he was wholly unprepared for an attack. If they could draw him out by threatening Yan however, then he might truly be unprepared for what came next. To this end, Yan immediately gathered her elites and stuck close to her protectors, most of whom were Grandpa’s students and were fiercely devoted to the cause.

And yet, even they were not prepared for Mao Jianghong and his cadre of armoured Half-Demons when they appeared out of thin air, but as Yan noted earlier, there were few mortals capable of hiding from Grandpa Du’s perception. Her heart sang with joy as he appeared at her side to lock blades with the Enemy Commander himself, but then her stomach flopped as she realized that Grandpa was playing into his opponent’s hand.

For the Half-Demon’s wasted no time in unleashing their foul Aura of dread and terror which no one present could defend against, not even the Sanguine Tempest Du Min Gyu.

And just as quickly as they appeared, the Half-Demons vanished from sight as an explosion rocked the area around Grandpa Du and sent Imperial and Defiled alike crashing in all directions. Cackling in mad delight and untouched by the unholy Aura, Grandpa raised his arm and summoned a visible torrent of Air that gathered in the palm of his hand, so fast and turbulent it set his clothes to flapping and the sand to swirling about him. The cascading wind lasted for all of a blink of an eye before coming to an abrupt halt, at which point Grandpa made a throwing motion and cast his Chi working at his Concealed foes. “Target my granddaughter will you?” he boomed, even as the empty space was ripped apart with another thunderous boom, revealing five damaged Half-Demons encircling a surprisingly intact Mao Jianghong. “You think me a soft persimmon to squeeze?”

Again, Grandpa raised his arm and summoned the wind to hand, but the moment he launched his next attack, the Half-Demons scattered and left Mao Jianghong undefended. Yan had never seen the man before today, but the pictures of his likeness had been circulating for some time now, and she had to admit that they didn’t do him justice. Few would ever describe the Defiled as handsome or dashing, but Jianghong fit the bill nicely, save for his murderous scowl that ruined the whole effect. Were he to smile and bat his eyes, he would be the perfect fit for the stage as any dashing hero of noble birth, for he was more than just good looking, but downright perfect in appearance. If Luo-Luo were a man, she would likely be a match for Jianghong’s good looks, but even Rain fell short in comparison, though Yan personally preferred the combination of her husband’s youthful grin and soulful eyes to Jianghong’s cold and bitter expression.

One made all the colder by the shield of ice he summoned to block Grandpa’s latest Chi skill.

Normally, Elemental Chi should have cancelled one another out, but even faced with this unexpected turn of events, Grandpa kept his wits about him and prematurely detonated his Wind Bomb. The impact and subsequent explosion sent Jianghong flying through the air, but he quickly regained control and Cloud-Stepped away, not back to Shi Bei but over and beyond into the horizon, followed by a steady stream of Enemy elites. No doubt Jianghong got word of Akanai’s imminent arrival and he sought to gain some small advantage before retreating, but Yan was reminded of Nian Zu’s warning given before the siege was even underway, claiming that Mao Jianghong might well be a threat comparable to Bai Qi himself. At the very least, they now knew he possessed the Blessing of Ice, which was Fire and Water both, a fearsome combination that provided offence, defence, and utility in spades. In fact, it was quite likely the most popular and in demand Blessing of them all, but as far as Yan knew, there wasn’t an Imperial Warrior alive who possessed it.

Except for Mao Jianghong, who’d truly hidden himself deeply while serving as the Guard Captain of Sanshu. A dangerous foe, this snake in the grass, one who’d revealed himself as a dragon, but these were burdens for taller shoulders to bear, unless he was willing to wait another five to ten years for Yan to catch up. Stifling a sigh of regret, she raised her voice in a rousing cheer to celebrate Grandpa’s new and improved Explosive Wind, which was both faster to create and more powerful than anything he’d demonstrated before. There was still a city to take, but bereft of its commander and the majority of its elites, an Imperial victory was only a matter of time.

After which, Yan would petition for permission to head back to Meng Sha immediately after hearing the full story from Akanai. If Rain was awake, then Yan could hardly let Lin-Lin monopolize him for too long, because who knew if or when he’d slip into another coma again...

Chapter Meme