Two years had passed since the defining moment of Hideo’s life, when he suffered a most humiliating defeat at the hands of a slave and traitor, and even after all this time, the memory still stung something fierce.

It wasn’t just losing which irked him so, but losing to such a disgraceful character in so public a manner. If their duel had taken place in a proper arena on sturdy ground, Hideo would have reduced his foes into meat paste with a single stomp of his boot, but out on the floating stage in Nan Ping Bay, he’d been fighting at a marked disadvantage. Not only was he forced to account for the bob and sway of the ground beneath his feet, but he was also restricted from killing his opponents outright, to say nothing of how destroying the stage would have been akin to spitting in the Legate’s face. All this and more meant Hideo was unable to use his greatest weapon, the Mountain Collapsing Stomp, which allowed the contemptible Dastan Zhandos to eke out a victory by the slimmest of margins.

If only Hideo had swung a little faster, aimed a little higher, stepped a little closer… If only… Was there any pair of words more poisonous than ‘if only’?

The day of the First Imperial Grand Conference should have been the day Mitsue Hideo made his grand entrance onto the world stage, but instead, it became the worst day of his life. A series of most unfortunate events set him on course for a dizzying downward spiral which led him to the lowest point of his life, which in time, also brought him to his current, soaring heights. Since the Imperial Grand Conference, he’d encountered trials and tribulations aplenty which would have broken a lesser man, for the Heavens were cruel and merciless indeed. During his isolated meditation, he’d succumbed to his earthly desires and done unspeakable things to Eri-Hime, but even in death, she loved him so and not only forgave him for his weaknesses, but helped him overcome them as well. He owed her so much and wished she were still here by his side, but her soul had no doubt gone into the warm embrace of the Mother Above, where she would soon be reborn anew.

Then, in Sinuji, his father revealed his true strength in an effort to kill Hideo with his own hands. Not because he hated his son, but because Mitsue Hiroshi was a flawed man and a failure of a father who could not understand or accept his son’s newfangled perspective. The man’s strength was betrayal most heinous and revealed his true character, for what sort of man could stand idly by while watching his son stagger beneath the too-heavy burden of the family’s future? It was one thing if Hiroshi lacked talent, but he, a dragon among men, did nothing while Hideo gave everything he had and more to stand out from his peers in a gruelling effort to secure the future of the family out of a misguided sense of filial duty and obligation. No doubt Hiroshi and Juichi shared many a laugh while watching Hideo’s desperate endeavours as he slowly crumbled beneath the weight of expectations, driven to succeed by a false calamity looming over the horizon when they both knew there was no need for Hideo to shoulder the Heavens.

This betrayal pained him all the more because he loved his father so. Despite his supposedly lacking Martial skills, Hideo never once looked down on the man who raised him and instead respected him all the more for having the courage and conviction to put aside the Martial Path in order to maintain the Mitsue family household. None of Juichi’s sons or daughters cared to do the same and instead behaved as if the family’s future had nothing to do with them, so the undesirable burden fell to the nephew Hiroshi, who then had to fend off outside mercantile interests seeking to bring the family low while simultaneously protecting Juichi’s ignorant spawn from their own spendthrift ways. How many times did an uncle or aunt arrive unannounced bearing news of some grand investment opportunity or insider knowledge of a fortune just waiting to be made? Too many times for Hideo to count, and despite being the only person keeping the family from succumbing to poverty, no one ever thanked Hiroshi for all his hard work. Hideo saw first-hand how much effort his father put in to keep the family finances afloat, visiting trading partners and prospective clients all across the Empire while his own family sat besieged on all sides at home. More than once, he remembered gritting his teeth while his aunts made some cutting remark about his mother’s fine dress or fancy jewellery, or the beautiful furnishings of the ancestral home which was more office than household in truth. They were always full of backhanded compliments meant to imply Hiroshi was stealing from the family funds, but never once did he stand up to defend his wife from those hateful accusations.

All this shame and indignity suffered, but for what? All so Juichi wouldn’t have to hear people whisper about how his own children were failures while his nephew was the true Rising Dragon of the Mitsue Family.

And as reward for all his hard work and humility, Mitsue Hiroshi died in disgrace on the fields of Sinuji before the world could learn of his phenomenal talents. This was a man who should have stood shoulder to shoulder with the Sword King Ryo Dae Jung, but the world only ever knew Mitsue Hiroshi as a bean-counting, copper-pinching accountant because he loved his son too much to do what needed to be done. Even Hideo hadn’t known of his father’s strength, but life would have been so different if he had, because then he would have mentored under his father instead. In spite of all Juichi’s strength and accomplishments, the old man clearly didn’t know the first thing about how to raise a competent human being, much less a Martial Warrior. Even knowing Hideo was walking a dead-end path by following in his footsteps, Juichi only warned him against doing so once, after which he more than happily accepted all the praise and salutations regarding the second coming of the Obsidian Shadow.

Worst of all, despite it all, Hideo still loved his father and the guilt ate away at him inside. Following Hiroshi’s death, Hideo was cast adrift in the world with nothing left to anchor him in place, and this weakness brought him to seek solace in the teachings of the Brotherhood. No, not even the Brotherhood, but the vagabonds cast out from their ranks, a pretentious and closed-minded bunch who refused to see any Truth besides their own. At the time however, Hideo was desperate for answers and too scared to seek them out on his own, so he accepted Vyakhya’s misguided interpretation in blissful ignorance, because a flawed answer was better than suffering with no answer at all. Though their conclusions were undeniably unfounded and unsound, the methods the vagabond monks used to guide others to those same answers helped Hideo find the real Truth, that everybody lies and the Truth was what he made of it.

And from that moment on, Hideo was a man reborn.

There were still trials and tribulations aplenty to overcome, such as his failure to overrun the District and capture Zheng Luo, or when Tong Da Fung drove him back on the walls of the Citadel, but Hideo navigated through these calamitous setbacks to emerge stronger and smarter each and every time, until he was finally ready to cast aside the lacking Martial Path and set foot on a new journey in pursuit of the Truth. With help from the Uniter, he’d been reborn as Heroic Heavenly Guardian Hideo, a Cultivator seeking to overturn Heaven’s Will and break free of the shackles restraining him to this ignoble plane of existence. Here in Meng Sha, he displayed his strength for all to see and was this close to overcoming the greatest foe he’d ever faced, the young and monstrous Ancestral Beast Mei Lin. Once he put her in her place, he would claim her as his own, and then he would’ve done the same to Zheng Luo, Sumila, Du Min Yan, and Li Song. Dastan Zhandos would’ve died somewhere along the way, alongside the rest of Falling Rain’s comrades and subordinates, and Hideo’s only regret would have been that the savage runt wasn’t conscious to see it all unfold before his eyes.

That’s how today should have gone, and Hideo had been mere moments away from his crowning glory, only for history to repeat itself as everything went wrong in an instant. The Heavens were to blame, for they conspired against Hideo to keep him from overturning their unjust laws and ascending to stand alongside them, choosing to support their chosen pawn instead of one who spurned their Path. It took two years for Hideo to reach his current soaring heights, but only two minutes for Falling Rain to undo all his hard work, and the runt had the gall to look tired and exhausted as he descended down from the skies with his Dharma Protector, the Medical Saint Taduk who likely did all the heavy lifting when it came to defeating the Transcendent Vyakhya.

A fitting end for that hateful hypocrite of a monk, one who abandoned all his beliefs in a moment of rage. Vyakhya’s star Disciple Monk Eyebrows was still here, standing slack and idly by at the wayside while his fellow monks looked to him for guidance, but there was none to be had from the once formidable man. Where he once stood tall and proud, Monk Eyebrows was now a defeated dog, his shoulders slumped and eyes filled with tears as he stared up at the sky where he last saw his Mentor fly off to, albeit in a monstrous Transcendent form which made a mockery of all the Brotherhood’s beliefs. The man’s faith was shaken, his confidence cracked, and Hideo found a sense of perverse pleasure in knowing there would be others who shared his fate, even if he wasn’t entirely resigned to it just yet.

This all happened because the Heavens were unjust. How different would things be if he hadn’t been born to a family embroiled in lies and deceits? How much stronger would he be if his Grand-Uncle and Mentor wasn’t a failure? How might things have changed if the Grand Conference had taken place in a landlocked city? Or if Hiroshi wasn’t a coward who hid his strength? If Hideo’s uncles, aunts, and cousins had been worth a damn and showed even a bare modicum of talent and ambition? What if Eri-Hime hadn’t snuck in over the fence that night, and Hiroshi hadn’t walked in on Hideo cradling her severed head? What if Vyakhya wasn’t a pompous, arrogant windbag who would brook no discourse or disagreement? Or if Monk Eyebrows had been honest with Hideo from the start? Or if Falling Rain had the common courtesy to die like the mongrel dog he was instead of stubbornly clinging to life and emerging triumphant from all his trials and tribulations.

So many things had gone wrong to bring Hideo to this low-point in his life, but one thing was for sure. Even if it was the Heavens which conspired against him, his hatred was reserved solely for their hateful tool, Falling Rain. If not for him, then Hideo’s star would have risen on that fateful day of the Imperial Grand Conference and brought him high into the Heavens, but instead, he fell to this most contemptible of lows.

Aside from the leaderless monks, there was no one left to stand with Hideo, no one besides the lowly grunts of the Mataram Clan who’d been left to die at the enemy’s hands. Hideo’s cadre had long since escaped even before Vyakhya was booted off the Razor’s Edge by Falling Rain’s contemptible sneer. The Divinities had been the first to flee the scene, followed by Mataram YuGan and the Transcendents soon after, while the surviving Peak Experts took to the skies in a seemingly futile effort to evade certain death. That’s how Hideo had seen it, which was why he remained rooted in place, but that wasn’t the only reason he stayed. Tired and spent though she might be, the monstrous Mei Lin’s predatory gaze warned him against trying to escape, twirling her weightless scarf about in her dainty little hands to set it to scything through the air with a keening wail. There was little doubt in his mind that the scarf was either a Spiritual Weapon or a Domain Plated object which would cleave him from shoulder to hip in a single pass, to say nothing of the fact that he was likely too slow to get away even if he tried. Why she didn’t use her scarf in this manner during their battle was a mystery to be sure, for he might well have taken a grievous injury if he’d been caught by surprise, but there was no accounting for how an Ancestral Beast might think.

And now, as the savage runt’s piss-coloured eyes met Hideo’s, he knew there was no longer any hope for escape, for in that hateful gaze, he saw anger and hatred aplenty. Of course Falling Rain would hate Hideo, for he rose to his current heights through hard work and perseverance, while the Heavens handed the savage runt everything on a silver plate. There would be no false mercy or meaningless forgiveness for Hideo, for the Heaven’s Chosen Pawn could hardly let a true Cultivator live. Doing so would threaten his power and prestige, for Falling Rain’s strength was given to him by the Heavens above, while Hideo had to fight and claw to make progress along every step of the way. Alas, overturning the Heavens was too difficult a tribulation to overcome on his own, but Hideo would die with his head held high knowing that it was better to try and fail than to live the dog life the Heavens had planned for him.

Wasting no time as he landed back upon the docks, Falling Rain plucked his sword out of the air and advanced upon Hideo with the intent to kill. Knowing these might well be his last words, Hideo sneered and said, “And so the savage comes to silence the Truth, but there will come a day when your lies can no longer be kept from the world.”

Without hesitation, the savage runt drew back his blade and delivered a lethargic strike, likely to prolong Hideo’s suffering, but rather than slicing into the meat of his neck, the cold steel clipped him in the cheek with the flat of the blade and drove him down into the sand. “Oh?” Sneering ever so hatefully after delivering so humiliating a blow, the savage runt asked, “And what truth would that be? Let’s hear it. I’ve got time and I could use a good laugh.”

So infuriated by the runt’s actions, Hideo almost didn’t hear the question, nor did he truly understand what the runt was doing when his words finally trickled through the rage and fear. How could he be so nonchalant about all this? Falling Rain was an Imperial agent sent here to help cover up the Emperor’s lies, all so the Imperial Clan could keep the secrets of Heaven for themselves, yet now he was all but inviting Hideo to expose him. What game was he on about? Was he really so foolish, or was he just playing with Hideo and would strike the moment he gave voice to injustice?

Whatever the runt’s reasons, this was Hideo’s chance, so he took a moment to gather his thoughts and put them in a reasonable and coherent order. Where to begin? With Juichi and Hiroshi’s failings? No, the runt would only use this to mock Hideo as an ungrateful silk pants, for the world still saw the Mitsue Family as a strong and prosperous household. With his disgrace in Nan Ping which led to Eri-Hime’s death? The world wasn’t ready for that just yet, wouldn’t understand that Hideo had to fall so low in order to rise up again, and that he’d only been able to do so because of Eri-Hime’s love and forgiveness. With the flawed arguments of the Brotherhood Vagabonds? That would require him to explain the arguments in the first place, for most were unfamiliar with the Brotherhood’s teachings, to say nothing of the skewed conclusions Vyakhya operated under. How about the flaws Hideo uncovered in the Martial Path and the steps he took to overcome them? Difficult, truly difficult, for many of his flaws were personal and the solutions unique to him and him alone, for even if there were another man with these same flaws, the same solution may or may not be effective. Not to mention the fact that while Hideo could speak for hours on the subject of Meridians, Acupoints, Chakras, and the intertwining of the body, mind, and soul, there was also much about the subject which he still had yet to wholly comprehend, and he would look foolish if he couldn’t answer one of the runt’s insipid questions.

“Well?” Shaken from his thoughts, Hideo looked down to see the runt’s wide-eyed, exaggerated sneer as he mockingly said, “We’re waiting.”

It was all a trap, Hideo saw this now, a pitfall he almost willingly stepped into. “You know the Truth I speak of,” he declared, deigning not to play the savage’s games. “Mock me all you want, but history will prove which of us stands on the side of humanity.”

“Yes, of course.” Tone dripping with sarcasm, the runt feigned enlightenment and said, “How could I be so blind? The murderous cannibals are only invading to save us from ourselves and do away with all our misguided notions like empathy and compassion. Heroes of humanity, one and all, led by the greatest hero of them all, the Heroic Heavenly Guardian, Hideo. What a joke. Since you refuse to be any use even in death, then you can just die now.”

The sword slashed out again, but this time it rebounded off steel as someone appeared before Hideo’s eyes, a broad back that was smaller than he remembered and yet somehow still so vast and domineering. “Mercy, Legate. Hideo’s sins fall upon this old fool’s shoulders, for I failed to teach him right from wrong, and thus the punishment should be borne by me and me alone.”

Upon hearing that sharp, lyrical voice once more, Hideo was brought back in time, long before he was a Cultivator, or a member of the Hwarang, or even a rising young Talent of note. For a brief, fleeting moment, he was but a child once more, so happy and relieved to hear his Grand Uncle Juichi coming to save him from the adversity plaguing him so. It’d only been a few months since he last saw him, but the old man had grown even older in their time apart, his customary makeup and lacquered nails nowhere to be seen as he emerged from Concealment to stand before Hideo with his twin maces respectfully lowered yet still held in hand. His travel-worn robes were stained with sweat and sand, as if he’d spent weeks roughing it out in the desert instead of brooding back home in his manor, and though the dark birthmark clouding half his face was unsightly to behold, it was nothing compared to the white hairs and folded wrinkles he’d developed since their argument at the Central Citadel. Then there was his wizened frame and slightly hunched back which made it seem as if he had the weight of the world bearing down on him, a most unseemly appearance for a man who’d always seemed so grand and elegant in Hideo’s eyes, but the old man was still a Living Legend yet. With Grand-Uncle Juichi here, they could fight free of Falling Rain’s encirclement and escape back to the West, where they would –

The fanciful daydream died then and there as Mitsue Juichi, a Colonel General who dominated three generations with his Mountain Collapsing Stomp, cast his weapons aside and dropped to his knees before Falling Rain. Without hesitation, the old man fell face-first to the ground with his hands extended straight overhead, making no effort to slow his fall as he kowtowed before the savage runt with an audible thud. “This old fool sinned in raising such a stupid Disciple.” Pushing himself back up to his knees, Mitsue Juichi avoided the runt’s attempts to stop him from kowtowing again and fell to the sand with another thud. “This old fool did not teach his grand-nephew properly, and let him be led astray by his dark thoughts.” Though he tried to kowtow a third time, the runt would not let him, so the old man simply bowed his head repeatedly while refusing to get up off his knees. “It was this old fool’s fault, not Hideo’s, so let my life pay for his sins.”

“Get up.” Only when the old man and runt both turned towards him, did Hideo realize he’d been the one to make this demand. “Get up,” he repeated, unable to contain his rage as he watched his Mentor, his hero, his Grand-Uncle Juichi, debase himself before all of Meng Sha. “Get off your knees! You are Mitsue Juichi, the Obsidian Shadow, a Living Legend and Colonel General!” Pointing at the hateful runt who dared lay hands on such a hero, Hideo shrieked, “Who is he to deserve your kowtows? He is nothing and no one, a savage runt and hateful puppet for the Emperor pulling strings in the shadows. Where has your pride gone?”

“The kowtows aren’t for me, idiot.” Still holding Juichi up, the hateful runt glared at Hideo without even a trace of smug amusement as he spoke in low tones. “They’re for you. That’s why he can set his pride aside, because he hopes this will be enough to spare your life, but though I am a merciful man, my mercy is reserved for the repentant. Do you repent, Hideo? Should I kill your Grand Uncle in your place?”

Hideo’s fear urged him to fall to his knees and beg for deliverance, to accept the trade and let Grand Uncle Juichi die in his place, while his rage demanded he throw himself off the Razor’s Edge and find power in Transcendence, but his pride would not allow him to accept either option. Better to die on his feet standing for the truth than to kneel and reinforce the lies he so loathed, or worse, cast aside his humanity to become less than a beast. “I have done no wrong save for stand against a tyrannical Emperor whose greed knows no bounds,” he declared, but his inner turmoil robbed his tone of conviction even as he shut the voices out. “You may have won for now, but your lies and deceits will come to the light in time. Man was not meant to kneel before the Heavens, but conquer them instead.”

“Quiet boy. Please don’t make things worse.” Reaching out to pat Hideo’s hands while still fighting to drop to his knees, Juichi turned to the Abbot and bowed his head in plea. “Merciful Abbot, this fool begs you to speak up on our behalf. Hideo has erred, but who in this life is free of sin? No one is so far gone from the light that they cannot be brought back into it, is this not what the Brotherhood preaches?”

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“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.” Hand pressed in prayer, the Abbot appeared every bit as pious as Wisdom Vyakhya had and was likely just as hypocritical. “Benefactor Juichi speaks true, but offering guidance to one who will not listen is no different from drawing legs on a snake; wasted breath and effort. You heard him yourself, that he admits no wrong, so how can this Abbot speak on his behalf in good conscience?” Turning to the runt, the Abbot continued, “Be that as it may, this monk will still say this; mercy offered is never wasted effort, even if it is undeserved.”

“Noted.” The runt’s eyes turned towards Hideo and his vision turned black as the world exploded into pain and misery, only for the agony to recede before the scream even left his throat. Glancing down in confusion, he saw the runt’s short sword protruding from his belly and felt the Energy of the Heavens seeping from his Shattered Core. All he could do was gasp and stagger in place, but Juichi wailed loudly enough for the both of them as he caught Hideo in his grasp. “For his crimes against the Empire, I sentence the traitor Hideo to death,” the savage runt declared, so full of self-righteous conviction as he recalled his sword to hand without Hideo feeling a thing. “Such is the full extent of my mercy, the mercy of a painless death and the time needed to bid one another farewell. More than what most soldiers of the Empire receive while defending their lands from the Defiled, but this I offer to Mitsue Juichi out of respect for all he has done.”

So shocked by the speedy turn of events, Hideo could hardly process what was going on, but the hubbub of the crowd died out as a Sound Barrier sprung up around him and Grand-Uncle Juichi, isolating them from the crowd of soldiers watching from afar. “Oh, sweet child,” the old man cried, tears pouring down his wrinkled cheeks and he gently laid Hideo down in the sand with a gnarled hand supporting his head. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I failed you.”

Though there was no pain, Hideo could muster no strength and found it difficult to even draw breath, as if the air itself had grown too thick and viscous to settle easily into his lungs. The world dimmed as if he were seeing through a pane of off-colour glass, and he was wracked with uncontrollable shivers as the warmth fled from his body and a chill settled into his bones. He was dying, this much was clear, and though he could faintly feel the old man’s Chi pouring in a desperate and clumsy effort to mend his wounds, Hideo knew that not even the Medical Saint could save him now. Falling Rain’s sword had done more than pierce his abdomen, but severed the source of his life itself, and the Heavens were quick to reclaim that which he took with interest to boot. Death had come, and he could only accept it, so he sought out what answers he could before it was too late. “Why did you have father hide his strength?” he asked, still so bewildered by this unfathomable decision. “With his talent, he could have carried the Mitsue Family for another generation and scared off the wolves sniffing at our door, but you had him pretend to be nothing more than a weak, paper-pushing scribe with only a bare modicum of Martial Training. Why?”

Though Hideo could see his Grand Uncle was confused by the question, he didn’t care to ask why. “That was Hiroshi’s decision,” he began, stroking Hideo’s head as if he were just a boy again, here to listen to his famous Grand-Uncle’s war stories. “He said it would give him time to grow stronger and reveal who among our allies were worthy of trust. Like you, I thought his actions silly and meaningless, because with strength, what did it matter if allies could be trusted or not? Easier to trust in strength than to trust in the hearts of men, but Hiroshi was his father’s son. Your grandfather, my older brother, Mitsue Akihiko, the Ivory Flash, he was the true talent of our generation, but the Heavens were cruel and demanded too much from him too soon. Were he still here at my side, our family would have conquered all of Central before Shuai Jiao rose to prominence, but we were betrayed by a close friend and he died to see me out safely. Hiroshi knew all this, and though I had long since dealt with the traitor and those who spurred him, your father wanted to ensure such a betrayal would never happen again. That’s why he hid his strength and made note of those allies who remained true and those who took advantage, for true friends share in wealth and weal both.”

Hideo had never known about his grandfather, for no one had ever spoken of it, but it made him feel better about things because now he knew his suffering served a purpose. Still though, why hadn’t they seen fit to include him in their plans? If only he’d known, then… then…

Then what? What would have changed? Everything perhaps, or maybe nothing. ‘If only’ didn’t matter anymore, because Hideo was too tired even for regret.

Oblivious to Hideo’s inner turmoil, Grand-Uncle heaved a heavy sigh and continued, “As the years passed, our close allies predictably showed their true colours, which was disheartening to say the least, for all of my close friends and comrades proved to be snakes hiding their fangs. Only your uncle Ishida stayed true, because of his close friendship with Hiroshi, showcasing yet another way in which this old fool has failed.” Hideo’s stomach flopped as Grand-Uncle Juichi continued with a grimace. “We were planning to reveal Hiroshi’s strength on the front lines, but then that unpleasantness with little Eri-Hime occurred, and not even the combined efforts of both our families could uncover the culprit. To support his old friend, Hiroshi delayed his plans and stayed behind, but then circumstances in Sinuji demanded he make an appearance there, and then… well, you know the rest.”

There was pain and pity in the old man’s eyes, along with regret aplenty, but no anger, disgust, or even disapproval. He still didn’t know. He didn’t believe that Hideo had been the one to kill Eri-Hime, and that Hiroshi stayed behind to cover up his crime, even though he’d all but admitted it back at the Central Citadel. How could he be so blind to Hideo’s sins? How could he not understand? “What do you think happened in Sinuji?”

Blinking in surprise, Grand-Uncle replied, “Watanabe told me he arranged to have you join the battle against your father’s wishes, so we both presumed you were taken prisoner and your father died trying to bring you away.” His brow furrowing in confusion, a note of consternation crept into his voice as he asked, “Is that not the case?”

It would be so easy to lie, to say yes and let that be the end of it, but Hideo was dying and didn’t want to carry the burdens of his sins even a second longer. “No,” he whispered, unable to muster the courage to speak any louder as the weight of his conscience bore down upon him. “No. I snuck out to join the Enemy, because I knew I belonged with them, for I too am a monster in human flesh. I lost myself in despair after Dastan defeated me, lost myself and turned Defiled. Father knew, so he was keeping me close, and after I snuck out, he died trying to kill me. He was right to try, just as Falling Rain was right to strike me down, for I deserve far worse than mere death.” Tears poured down the sides of his face and he looked up at his Grand-Uncle in an effort to see the man’s reaction to this next confession, even though he was terrified by what he might find. “I killed Eri-Hime. I killed her and ate her, and I remember every sweet, horrific moment of it. It haunts my nightmares in sleep and tempts me in my waking moments, the sound of her sweet screams, the sensation of her warm blood, and the taste of her delicious flesh. Father covered up my crime out of misplaced love and misguided hope, but now I wish he’d struck me down in my madness so that I could have died never knowing the full weight of my sins.”

There was horror in Grand-Uncle Juichi’s eyes, dread and dismay as he was forced to confront the truth, but still he cradled Hideo’s head and stroked his hair, a sensation he clung to in order to cast out the voices in his head. “A true monster would not feel the weight of his sins.” That was all Grand-Uncle Juichi said, and the love returned to his eyes, though Hideo knew that love would forever be tainted by the knowledge of what he’d done. Still, the words helped ease his conscience a little, even though he knew Uncle Ishida would never learn the truth about what happened to Eri-Hime, whose only crime was trusting her big brother Hideo too much.

Falling Rain was right. Hideo was undeserving of mercy, but the soft-hearted fool granted it anyways, all but declaring that Hideo’s crimes were his own and unrelated to the Mitsue Family. This much at least was worthy of gratitude and recompense. “Tell… tell the Legate,” Hideo began, feeling his eyes grow heavy and his head light. “Tell him… the Uniter fears him, but only because he has his sights set upon his true foe, the Emperor hiding in the shadows. The Uniter retreats not to preserve his own strength, but the strength of his forces so that he can bring them to bear another day. Do not for a moment think him weak, for he holds his alliance together not through trust or camaraderie, but strength alone.”

“I will pass along your message, little Hideo.”

“I’m sorry, Grand-Uncle Juichi. Please… don’t tell Mother? Tell her… tell her I love her, and that I’m sorry.”

“She knows, little Hideo. She knows. I’ll look after her as if she were my own, don’t you worry. I’ll…” There was more said, but the fingers ran through his hair one more time the world faded to black around Hideo, and he prayed that what came next was the warm comfort of the Mother’s Embrace, though he knew he was more likely bound for the cold confines of the Father’s Maw.

But such is death, his trials and tribulations finally come to an end, and as Hideo exhaled one, last time, the weight of the world fell off his shoulders and as he found peace at last.

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“You’re too nice hubby.”

With arms wrapped around my waist and cheek pressed against my chest, my sweet wifey pouts as she glares at the dying Hideo. “You should have made him turn Demon to show everyone how ugly and hateful he really is.”

Which had been the plan to start, but then Juichi showed up and I couldn’t go through with it anymore. Kissing Lin-Lin’s forehead and hugging her tight, I console my blood-thirsty Ancestral Beast of a wifey as best I can while still coming to terms with this newfangled information. Lin-Lin, the Ancestral Hare, a future Divinity. Seems almost obvious now that I think about it, but how was I supposed to know? “He deserves a thousand deaths for daring to bully you, but look at poor Juichi covered in sand and dirt. He’s probably been scouring the Western Province for Hideo ever since they had their falling out at the Central Citadel, hoping beyond all hope that he can ‘rescue’ his beloved Grand-Nephew and turn him back to the light.”

“He won’t thank you for your ‘mercy’ you know.” Too shy and prideful to throw herself into my arms, Mila puts up a paltry effort to fend me off as I pull her ever so gently into my embrace, and it’s adorable how she ‘unwillingly’ gives in. “You’ve made a powerful enemy, one with little to lose now that his family’s prospects are no more.”

“I can only take responsibility for my actions,” I declare, trying to sneak a kiss on Mila’s lips and settling for a peck on the cheek instead as she turns away with a huff. “What Juichi does moving forward from here is up to him, and I will deal with whatever may come.”

Bold and daring as ever, Yan throws herself into my embrace and locks her lips against mine, her arms wrapped so tight around my neck that she almost cuts the blood off to my brain. Granted, there might be other reasons my brain isn’t getting enough blood, one in particular which sweet Lin-Lin immediately notices and giggles about, but even I’m not so bold as to try something here, not with two father-in-laws looming nearby. Thankfully, Yan breaks off the kiss just before I lose all sense of control, and she headbutts me gently to warn me from trying anything too untowards. “How sensible of you for once,” she croons, as the sultry look in her eyes makes me consider just Cloud-Stepping out of Meng Sha with all three of them right here and right now, though I suppose I should handle all my business here first. “Striking down a Divinity in one blow seems like a paltry achievement in comparison to your newfangled grasp of the obvious.”

“Ah, well, that first thing really wasn’t much. Easier to attack than to defend, and Vyakhya didn’t do any defending.” It stings a little to know I’m no match for a Divinity in actual combat, because they’re too strong, too fast, and too powerful for me to contend with while doing anything besides keeping the Heavens from nuking us all. That being said, I can’t just admit that out loud since the soldiers of Meng Sha can still hear me, all of them too shocked by the sudden turn of events and unsure what will come next. There are still a good number of Defiled here in Meng Sha, enough to put up a decent fight, so the day isn’t exactly won just yet. Giving Yan, Mila, and Lin-Lin one last squeeze, I reluctantly part from their embrace and greet my sweet floofs as they pace and hop around us in demand of affection. Especially Ping Ping and Pong Pong who saved my ass with their water shenanigans, and I’m pretty sure the tiny turtle was ready to drown Meng Sha in despair if Hideo laid a finger on my comatose frame. Pong Pong isn’t great at showing affection, but he’s a real one for sure, and I intend to see that he gets all the shrimp and seafood he wants once all this is over.

Unfortunately, I cannot afford to spend the next week cuddling my floofs and must mix business with pleasure. “Commander OuYang Min Jun?” I Send, picking his unique presence out of the crowd with help from the Natal Soul assigned to him, still floating around due to the commander’s stubborn refusal to accept outside help. “This is Legate Falling Rain, informing you I am in good health once more and able to serve.”

The Empire, not him, but it feels like it would have been too on the nose to point that out, and the commander responds promptly with, “This servant greets Legate Falling Rain. Meng Sha is yours to command.”

“I graciously accept.” Annoying, but he seems like a stickler for propriety, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my time here, it’s that there’s no sense in needlessly antagonizing your allies. Same goes for your enemies, but that’s a lesson I have yet to learn, as evidenced by what literally just happened. Twice. Almost three times if you count Hideo, but in my defense, I was planning to Devour him for Heavenly Energy once he finished transforming. “You’ve done a commendable job here, and I will see to it that you are well rewarded.” Right after I decide what a suitable reward would be, especially considering he didn’t really do all that great of a job. He didn’t fuck things up, which is about all I have to say, but to be fair, that’s still better than what most could’ve done in his place.

What comes next is a thorough accounting of our remaining forces, as well as an estimation of the Enemy’s forces still here in Meng Sha, including a fair number of Mataram Clansmen milling about the interior of the fortress with no idea what to do next. They’re not as decisive as the tribal Defiled, who either stayed to fight to the last or are hightailing it back west even as we speak, but this is a good thing. Confusion means they’re not sure what to do, which means they’re not wholly beholden to their Spectres like the tribesmen are, and still possess enough control to keep themselves in check. That’s important because fight or flight is instinctive, but freezing up is just human nature, which means those standing here in Meng Sha are all still human yet.

After greeting my floofs and waiting for the commander to wrap up his long-winded reporting, I awkwardly nod at Li-Li while wondering how I should greet Luo-Luo who stares at me with an expectant gaze. In the end, I settle with a stilted hug she is far too enthusiastic to receive and almost succumb to the warm embrace of her soft, bountiful bosom. Those things are almost unfair in how erotically destructive they are, but again, this is hardly the time or place, so much as I would love to get to know Luo-Luo better while burying my face between her breasts, I have more important matters to attend to.

I know I went on and on about Balance and expressing emotions, but that doesn’t mean I can do away with all shame and social awareness.

Passing a reluctant Mama Bun over to Lin-Lin since I can hardly demand a surrender with a bunny in my arms, I Cloud-Step into the air to address the Enemies still in our midst. “I am Falling Rain,” I begin, wondering if I should’ve changed clothes first, but then again, they all just saw me cut down a Divinity, so best to strike while the iron is hot. “To all Enemy combatants still in Meng Sha, your commanders and Divinities have fled the field. I urge you all to lay down your arms and surrender so that we might put an end to this needless bloodshed. I will not lie and promise to spare your lives, but I can promise you each a fair trial. I came West not to purge it of all life, but to give the province back to the people who still call it home, including those of you who took up arms against your own wishes.”

There’s no way the entire Mataram Clan was Defiled to the last man, woman, and child. Some probably fought because they were loyal to Clan and Patriarch without understanding the full scope of their actions, while others might’ve been pressured into it to keep their families and loved ones safe, which means I have no qualms about the Abbot whisking some of the less egregious offenders away, as I’ve already closed my eyes to how Monk Bones gathered up all his wayward brothers and disappeared while I was busy with Hideo. That being said, I fear that two years of struggle and conflict will have done away with most doubts and hesitations, and Defiled or not, the Mataram name has become synonymous with traitor and enemy. Even the most innocent Clansman here believes they will likely be put to death, so why surrender without a whimper when you can die fighting on your feet?

And just as expected, my demand unites them against me, for they know the only mercy I can offer is the same mercy I offered Hideo. Perhaps it would be different if they weren’t clad in Mataram armour and captured while attacking an Imperial fort, but alas, the Empire is not known for its mercy to traitors or Defiled and it shows as the Clansmen raise their voices in defiance and charge headlong into the fray. There is little to no coordination between units, just a massed charge towards the closest foe who isn’t a Divinity, which is in every direction besides the docks where my wives and floofs stand.

An outcome I expected, which was why I ordered the Imperial Peak Experts and Demon Slayers to help hold the line while the Irregulars whittle down the Enemy numbers from afar. Perhaps it’s cruel to crush them all without leaving even a single path to escape, but this is the best way to ensure minimal Imperial casualties, even if the slaughter doesn’t sit well with me. The only consolation is that the Abbot will deal with the traitor monks, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned about Monk Eyebrows and the others staging another coup down the line. That’s not my problem to deal with however, so I focus on what is, namely the struggle between Imperial and Defiled. It brings me no joy to see so much needless death, but I stand and watch regardless, because it is the least I can do after giving the order. Honestly, I should be down there fighting alongside my allies, but somehow, I can’t bring myself to do it. Not in a figurative sense, but a literal one, as in I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that if I were to go down there right now and take up arms against those desperate Clansmen, then I would be making a huge mistake. I know this in my heart of hearts, and it checks out logically as well. Either I personally slaughter the Defiled and hate myself for it, or I give in to my empathy and try to put an end to the slaughter, neither of which will end well. So instead, I keep my distance both personally and emotionally while stewing in anger and discontent, wracking my brain for a solution which I know does not exist. Even though I understand that these people must die, I still wish there was some other way. Hell, I even wanted to spare Hideo, or at the very least, find a good excuse to kill him so I could sleep soundly later tonight, but the stubborn bastard refused to turn Demon or throw Juichi under the bus, meaning even at the end, Hideo was still more human than Defiled.

And now, instead of feeling like an all-conquering hero, one only moments away from a monumental victory, I’m just a guy who killed some old guy’s beloved nephew and has to listen to him mourn and cry. Feels bad man.

How many others here on the battlefield are just like Hideo, sinners who could be reformed in time? Perhaps the Mataram Clansmen are not deserving of pity, but I don’t know that for sure, not really. It’s so much easier to wage war when you believe your Enemy is evil, but the conflicted nature of humanity means that true, unmitigated evil is a rare thing indeed, almost as rare as pure good. The problem is, Balance doesn’t care about good and evil, because in the eyes of the Heavens, the ends justify the means. In the eyes of Heaven, the Defiled are no different from a forest fire or raging flood, something meant to clear away the old and make room for the new, while the Empire is most certainly not a force for good, so what am I even fighting for?

Hideo had one thing right. Humanity should not kneel before the Heavens, because the cruel and merciless Heavens are undeserving of our devotion. Better if we rise up to conquer it instead, but I fear that is a feat far beyond my abilities.

Blobby’s agitation stirs me from my funk as Buddy growls in concern, reminding me to seek Balance and put aside my darker thoughts as I’m unwilling to push my limits and see what would happen if I fell into a spiral of depression. Maybe I’m overthinking things. Maybe another person could find a different rationale for all this or a better solution to the dilemma before me, but the only way I know how to put an end to all this meaningless suffering is by cutting the head off the snake. Once Zhen Shi is gone, then maybe, just maybe, the chaos and confusion will be enough to convince some Mataram Clansmen to lay down their arms and lose themselves in the crowd of prisoners who no doubt prayed for deliverance each and every day. Some might deserve far worse, but I would rather ten guilty criminals escape with a lighter punishment than put one innocent to death, even if I’d save more lives the other way around.

Is this a foolish way of thinking? Probably, but I was never really leadership material. I just want everyone to get along, so I can head home and live my life without constraints.

Sixteen minutes and forty-eight seconds. That’s how long the slaughter lasts, and I do not move from my post in the sky until the last Clansman falls, who I mourn alongside the Imperials who died fighting them. A triumphant cheer sounds out as the survivors celebrate their victory, but I find no joy in this senseless death and no accomplishment in having given the order. Mitsue Juichi has long since passed his message along and brought Hideo’s body away, and I hope the old man has the presence of mind to cremate his grandson before some Imperial Divinity puts two and two together and decides to see if Hideo’s flesh might have some Heavenly Energy to spare. I don’t know if it does, but I would rather not find out, so I belatedly wish Juichi all the best before calling a meeting to plan our next step. “We can’t waste even a second,” I begin, once all the Divinities and important Peak Experts have gathered, not just the people firmly in my camp. We’re short a few of the latter, as many ran away as the Demonic Divinity was forming, and I couldn’t be bothered tracking every last one of them down, but at least the Divinities made it back. “You all heard the Uniter. He claims he has all the answers he needs, which means he might now be tackling the final hurdle even as we speak. I do not know how strong he is, but suffice it to say he is formidable enough to demand the allegiance of no less than five Divinities, with more likely hidden in the wings.”

“What you did with the Demon Divinity,” Niu Mowang begins, looking mighty resplendent in his Runic armour even though I now see it for the weakness it truly is. “Preventing it from unleashing untold destruction? You can do that again, for all of us?”

“Yes, within limits.” No need to tell them too much, because even though it’s easier for me to stabilize reality than it is for them to destabilize it, I’m fairly certain that it’s a skill any Martial Warrior with a Domain could pick up, meaning the face of war will soon change once they all realize the Treaty is even more useless than it already is. Then again, I thought the same about Honed Domains, so what do I know? “I assume at least. I’ve yet to be pushed far enough to see those limits.” Though he tries to appear confident and nonchalant, I can tell the Ancestral Bull has decided to stay as far away from me as possible, given how blatantly I just whipped my metaphysical dick out by claiming how easy killing the Demonic Divinity was. It was easy, but mostly because I didn’t do much while Taddy did all the heavy lifting, but no one needs to know that. “How many Divinities are there in Shi Bei, and how many reliable ones can we call upon on short notice? Meaning immediately, since I intend to kill our foe before he has a chance to put the information he gleaned here today to good use.”

With no one better to focus on, I wait for Niu MoWang to give me an answer, but he responds to my query with a vacant expression until he realizes I’m specifically expecting him to speak. “I do not know,” he replies, offering a half-hearted shrug. “The Imperial Clan is responsible for coordinating the movement of allied Divinities, so it would be best if you spoke with your Imperial Dao Protector. I can contact the Divinities I am familiar with, but there is no guarantee they will come, for most are decidedly neutral in the conflict between Defiled and Imperial.”

Well… shit. My Imperial Dao Protector would be the baldy Xing Yong Wei, who I haven’t seen or heard from in forever, but it seems no one else was aware of this. Taddy already told me there are five Divinities friendly to the People in Shi Bei, so we’ll find out more when we get there, but that will have to wait a bit. “Gather your people and prepare. Peak Experts and above only.” Aside from the people I’m bringing with me of course, because they all refuse to stay here even though it’d be safest not to come with. “We set out as soon as I return.”

“From where?” The question comes from Situ Chi Gan, who has been eying my wifey in a none too friendly manner ever since she revealed her strength, and I have a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with his dead son who Lin-Lin may or may not have killed all the way back during our retreat from the Society Contest. If so, then the guy had it coming and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, but parents are rarely rational when it comes to the lives of their children.

“From the Azure Sea,” I reply, and though their eyes are full of questions, I don’t intend to reply, because some things are best left as a surprise. Besides, it’s not like I could explain it even if I wanted to, because I’m not entirely sure how it all works. See, Blobby is a metaphysical droplet of water, but I kicked him out awhile ago and he’s spent the last few months binding a good portion of the Azure Sea on my behalf, which raises all sorts of questions I don’t have the answers for, but whatever. If ever there was a time to use it, that time would be now, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.

Which, if history has proven anything, is probably not as terrible as it sounds. I’ll figure it out, or I won’t, so here goes nothing.

Chapter Meme