“Am I correct in assuming that this little act of rebellion is now over?”
Shi Xi gazed upon the collected heads of the Sects of Hai Guang as they kowtowed before her.
Those that yet live at least, she mused.
That was not to say that other sect leaders of the once rebellious city were not present in the grand hall. They were most definitely present. Scattered about the place. Or in several places in some cases - their lifeblood soaked into the rather expensive carpet that dominated the center of the room.
Indeed, their leader’s corpse had pride of place, even in death, several meters off the ground, the rebellious dragon-kin’s body was pinned to the backwall of the hall by Shi’s blade.
What honor I do you cousin, Shi tittered internally.
She would retrieve her lost blade in time of course, but for now she felt it served more effectively where it was.
She certainly hadn’t needed it to greet the shaking and terrified mass of cultivators before her. The fight had gone out of them the moment they stepped into the room.
What they had thought to be another meeting with their city’s ruler and her most immediate council had become a surprise greeting from the Imperial Inquisition.
Though whether it was the grisly tableau that surrounded them or Shi and her masked colleagues that terrified them so, she could not say.
Perhaps it’s the fact that they sensed none of it? No approaching armies, no thundering divinities, not even a peep from the city’s defensive array.
To give her rebellious cousin her due, she had made some rather impressive defensive preparations before enacting this little rebellion of hers.
Shi idly glanced down at a sheaf of papers depicting the other woman’s plans. Plans that had been pilfered from her cousin’s personal office - neither Shi nor her people had been idle while they had waited for the city’s remaining Sect Leaders to arrive.
Hidden Cultivators. Spirit Weapons. Even a Spirit Array intended to drive off a Divinity – for the low price of a few hundred spirit beast cores.
It wouldn’t have worked. At worst it might have made a founder of the Empire slightly uncomfortable.
Even a casual glance showed that dear cousin Chen had been working with estimates. Estimates that were several orders of magnitude too optimistic.
Then again, that wasn’t too surprising. It took a certain amount of optimism to think that one could break away from the Empire’s embrace just because it was distracted and distant.
While the current war and pseudo-spirit beast invasion made the movement of large armies more difficult than it might otherwise be, that did not mean the Empress was not without other options should some distant province decide it no longer needed to heed Imperial authority.
Shi and her inquisitors were just one of many tools at her disposal to bring her errant subjects back in line in a timely and efficient manner.
Indeed, they were often the preferable alternative.
Shi kicked her feet up as she sank into her cousin’s throne, uncaring of the way the lower hem of her enchanted silk robes dipped into a puddle of blood. The liquid would not discolor the robes of the Inquisition as they were already a vibrant red.
A very deliberate design choice on Shi’s part. Her work was difficult enough without the added strain of ordering a new set of robes every time she was forced to correct the actions of an errant colleague.
She glanced up at the kowtowing cultivators and noted that none had answered her earlier question. Which was a shame as it had not been entirely rhetorical. A few pointed fingers and half-stammered confessions would have served as an excellent excuse to further cull the horde of traitors.
Unfortunately, it seemed her little display of bloodshed had reduced the gathered mass of top tier experts to silence.
A lesson for next time, she thought.
She raised a delicate, if bloody hand, and her masked underlings sheathed their weapons. Though there was a hint of hesitance in their actions. One Shi well understood. Her people were selected from only the most loyal of the Imperial Clan and that fervor showed in their work.
They no doubt hated to leave a job half done. Just as Shi did.
Alas, the Empire needed all the cultivators it could muster in these trying times. Even a group of disloyal cads like these still had a place within her mother’s grand design.
“Am I also correct in assuming that the true hands behind this rebellion are here?” She gestured to the carnage around her. “And that the rest of you were merely biding your time until Imperial loyalists arrived? Like loyal daughters of the Celestial Throne?”
It was a blunt a statement of ‘forgiveness’ as could be given within the bounds of face, and even in their shellshocked state, the women before her did not miss it.
“It is as you say great mistress!” The leader of the Copper Grass Sect proclaimed grandly, bowing ever deeper.
It was rather amusing how authentic her protestation appeared, given that Shi knew the Copper Grass Sect had been instrumental in designing the anti-lightning wards that festooned many of the city’s highest towers. The designing of which may as well have been a statement of hostile intent towards the Empire as a whole, given that it was well known that most Imperial Scions made use of elemental lightning in their flying techniques.
Though Shi had to wonder if said runes were created after her sister got the idea of independence into her head… or long before. It was a question that would require answers, but not here and now. It would be a matter for her inquisitors to follow up at a later date.
As well as make copies of the admittedly brilliant designs.
This whole conflict would have dragged on much longer if we did not have alternate means of transport available to us, Shi thought.
It was amusing to think that despite all her defenses against aerial assault, her sister had never once considered that the ‘mighty Imperial Inquisition’ might make use of the most mundane of means to bypass them entirely.
Shi’s eyes tracked towards a distant window, where even now one of the gliders she and her people had deployed still hung from the roof of a distant building.
It had been easy enough to do. They needed only to use their techniques to gain enough altitude, before allowing the mass of wood and fabric to carry them over the city’s airspace - in the dead of night.
It was not an ideal method of travel – and some of her people had been blown off course by inopportune winds - but it and other mundane methods like it had often proven the more effective option when the Inquisition needed to move in a more clandestine manner.
It certainly allowed us to catch our foes unprepared, Shi thought.
Indeed, the former Magistrate of Gong Ho had been engaged in some manner of party with her inner circle when Shi and her Inquisitors crashed through the windows of the Palace.
She smiled at the thought. Gliders and other methods like it were a carefully kept secret of the Imperial Inquisition. It was through them that they had cultivated their fearful reputation for catching their foes unprepared.
“Very well,” Shi allowed magnanimously. “Return to your sects. Inform them that the foolishness of their former magistrate is at an end and they may once more rejoice in returning to the Imperial fold.”
She flicked a finger, and her people moved forward. “My sisters-in-arms will accompany as you do, to give credence to your claims.”
And ensure that the sect leaders did exactly as they were told. Each Inquisitor was a member of the Imperial Clan – if not the main line – and while not a match for a Magistrate of even middling ability, they would still be capable of matching the likes of the women before her in open combat.
Not that she expected it to come to that. There was some truth to her earlier statement that the city’s main rebels were dead. Those that she and her people had slain last night had been her sister’s closest supporters. Those Sect Leaders that remained were simply the ones who chose to go with the flow. Some of them might even have been truthful in their claims that they were secretly waiting for an opportunity to strike back in the name of the Empire.
She doubted it – in her experience Sects were loyal to themselves above all – but it was possible.
As the crowd of cowed cultivators departed, Shi turned to her nearest second in command. “Have the bodies of the slain rounded up and delivered to their appropriate sects. Should the elders prove suitably remorseful for their leader’s shameful ‘lapse in judgement’ and willing to provide an appropriate tithe in recompense, they may be forgiven.”
The dragon-kin didn’t miss the way her fellow Inquisitor twitched in distaste. “And if they do not appear… appropriately remorseful?”
Shi smiled. “Then I shall deliver unto them the appropriate judgement for their actions.”
Their was no missing the eagerness in her voice, nor the renewed energy in her fellow red-robed cultivator as the woman bowed.
“As you command, my mistress.”
With a wave of her hand, Shi dismissed the woman, who left to fulfill her duties. The Imperial Princess watched for a moment, before reaching into her robes to pull out a fresh sheaf of papers. These she had received mere hours before enacting last night’s operation – and though she already knew the contents, she read them anew.
Often, she found that a fresh set of eyes found new details that they had earlier missed.
A foreigner had arrived in the Empire and laid claim to one of her cities. In any other time that would have been cause enough to see the outsider killed. The Empress did not forgive those who chose to plunder her hoard.
Shi’s fan opened beneath her face, covering her mouth in with the flaming depiction of a mighty phoenix.
…This was not any other time though, and recent events had made actions that might otherwise have been unthinkable more palatable than they might otherwise be.
The outsider would still have to die, of course, but their death needn’t be immediate.
For while their actions were certainly deserving of the punishment that would one day befall them, they may yet provide recompense by aiding the Empire in the meantime.
A being that could kill a divinity – even a pale foreign mockery of such – was not a tool to be discarded out of hand. Indeed, by their presence alone, this outsider had already eliminated one of the Arch Traitor’s most valuable assets.
For that reason alone this situation must not be approached without due caution, Shi considered, tapping a finger against her chin.
And it was caution, not fear that guided her thoughts.
Perhaps another might have experienced some trepidation at the idea of dealing with a being on the level of a divinity, but Shi had occasionally been called to deal with the Empire’s founders in her role as High-Inquisitor.
And while their was no denying the majesty and power of the Divine Ancestors… in her experience True Immortals were a skittish and cowardly bunch. As evidenced by the woefully small number that had answered her mother’s call for aid.
Their power was real, but they seldom chose to use it in any real meaningful fashion.
To that end, she could only assume that this newcomer would act in a similar fashion. The fact that they had chosen to steal away one of the Empire’s cities while the bulk of her forces were distracted only lent further credence to the idea.
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To that end, the city could be conceded, though not without a show of force on the part of the Empire. The Rooster was already in place. A second divinity could be seconded for a short time.
And I have just come into possession of a large fighting force destined for the breach, Shi smiled. And what harm might be caused by a small detour on the way there?
As she’d noted, True Immortals were a cowardly bunch. Even the possibility of a threat to their lives was often all it took to send them scarpering or make them otherwise compliant.
A trade. They may have the city in return for their personal aid at the breach, she decided. In a supporting role at first.
A promise that would quickly prove moot once said Immortal was before the Empress herself.
The outsider would be the first into the breach when the Empire’s counter-attack on the breach came.
And if they did not die in the fighting that ensued – which was a frighteningly small possibility – they would die afterward.
Content, she snapped her fan closed before standing up.
Hai Guang would march to Ten Huo.
--------------------------
Private Teng never thought he’d grow sick of riding a spirit beast.
Hell, he’d never thought he’d even see a spirit beast.
Yet now he’d both seen and ridden a spirit beast and he could easily say that he was thoroughly sick of it.
The cramped insides of the Crawlers innards had become his entire world. He and the rest of the squad had spent nearly a week traveling from Jiangshi to Ten Huo. A week of running battles, frantic chases and constant gunfire as they shattered the fleeing remnants of the Instinctive horde that had once been laying siege to the coastal city.
There’d been a celebration at the end, of course. They’d entered the relieved sub-provincsial capital as conquering heroes.
The food hadn’t been much to write home about, but who cared about that when he’d had a drink in one hand and a cute tiger-girl hanging off each arm.
Of course, it’d all come to an end too soon. They’d not been picked for training duty like the lucky bastards in the Fourth. Fortunately, they’d not been picked for the Northern Fortress Project either like the poor sods in the Second.
No, First and Third divisions were slated to return to Jiangshi, which all things considered, was not too poor a fate.
Or it would have been, if Fourth Platoon was actually traveling with the main force. A main force that was likely three quarters of the way home by now.
Whereas Fourth Platoon was barely a quarter of the way there.
The smell was what was getting to him most. He didn’t know whether it was the beast itself or te other men with him, but the very air was heavy with it. It was enough to make him glad his beast-trait was a tail and not an enhanced nose like some of the poor sods around him.
To the left of him, someone coughed quietly and Teng sighed as he stared down at his boots.
Sure, he was glad enough for extra ‘hazard pay’ - a strange concept to be sure – but in moments like this he couldn’t help but think that he’d trade it all in a moment just to be out in open air and eating something that didn’t taste like boot leather for a few hours.
Unfortunately, their orders were clear. The Crawlers moved around the clock. The drivers worked in shifts and the squad slept in the passenger compartment.
And he couldn’t even complain because he’d been told in quite simple terms that the order to continually be moving had come from the top.
The very top.
The man himself.
And while Teng was as filial a member of the militia – nay, army! – as anyone, he couldn’t help but wonder if the Master’s generosity some areas was to cover for his slave driving in others.
Not even the cruelest landlord Teng had worked for in the past had demanded that he be working at all hours. Hell, with the Crawlers moving, he was technically still working as he slept!
“That’s it!” The man furthest to the back of the vehicle grunted. “I can’t take it anymore. If we can’t stop for some fresh air, can we at least open the back ramp? I need some goddamn fresh air.”
The sarge looked up lethargically from where he’d been manning the radio, his long rabbit ears flopping over his eyes as they tended to do when he was without a helmet.
“Wouldn’t recommend it,” he said, his provincial accent coming through strong.
“Why?” Yi asked.
The sarge shrugged. “Just a few hours back I heard a bit of radio chatter from Second Platoon. They’re down by the river and apparently lost a man to some kind of bird. Plucked him right out the cupola. Middle of the day.” He glanced at the ceiling. “They’re thinking of calling the thing that did it a Mist-Phoenix.”
“Was it made of mist, belched mist or just generally wafted mist off its feathers?” Another member of the squad asked.
The sarge just shrugged.
Teng didn’t bother to ask if the man who’d been carried off had lived. The answer was self-evident. Even with crawlers and gonnes, spirit beasts were spirit beasts. It wasn’t so bad back at Jiangshi itself, with its high walls and guard towers, but out here in the ‘wilds’, it was a different story altogether.
And it said a lot about how cooped up he felt that Teng still wanted to open the back ramp. If a spirit-beast went for him when he did, then that was what happened – he’d see how it liked a face full of rifle fire.
He scoffed at the thought.
Them, a bunch of peasants in armor taking on a spirit beast? It was surreal to think he could still remember a time when spirit beasts were something you grandad claimed to have seen while drunk. They certainly weren’t something even the biggest conman and braggart would ever claim to have killed.
Yet Teng had two such beasts to his name now. One from back when the animals had been relatively normal, if crazed. He’d only found out the big bear was a spirit beast afterward when Lady An came to claim the corpse.
Fortunately, he already pilfered one of the big bastards teeth – a trophy he’d offered to return, but the kindly woman had let him keep it.
He still sometimes daydreamed about that moment.
…Master Johansen was one lucky bastard.
The second had been just two days previous. He’d been manning the flamethrower and used it to hose down a stone-encrusted millepede - as long as a guard tower was tall - that had been attempting to wrap around a neighboring Crawlers midsection. Admittedly, there were two other crawlers who could also lay claim to that ‘kill’ but Teng wasn’t about to discount himself either.
According to some of the chatter around the militia, the beasts weren’t ‘true’ spirit beasts. At least according to the cultivators someone somewhere had overheard.
Teng was skeptical, because he had no idea what to label an animal that could command the elements other than a spirit beast, but that was how the rumors went.
They were just regular animals warped by Instinctive Ki.
The effects of which seemed to finally be tapering off. The things no longer ran at anything with vaguely humanoid with little more than mad bloodlust. For the most part, they seemed to have returned to being animals again.
Incredibly aggressive animals with little in the way of fear, but still just animals.
Teng ran a finger along a scar on his forearm. In some ways he might have preferred the beasts to remain the way they’d been before. It had been horrifying for sure, but it had at least been predictable.
These new animals were smarter than their berserker selves of the past.
And every hunter knew it wasn’t the bear charging through the field that got you, but the mountain cat in the tree above you.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m willing to risk it,” Ye continued. “I’d sooner end up in some beasts gullet than spend another minute sucking down this stench. Besides,” he grinned. “If any beasty does try to get me, they’ll just as soon get a waft of feisty little Jia here.”
In an unconscious echo of Teng’s earlier thoughts, the tiger-kin raised his revolver rifle. A rarity these days to be sure, but Ye had insisted on keeping the older mode when the new ones were handed out. And given they all used the same bolts, it had been allowed.
Not least of all because while the weapon was less accurate and supposedly less powerful than the new bolt-action ones, the sheer weight of fire it could put out in a moment could be useful in a pinch.
Though the tiger-kin had surely paid for his insistence. The fact that the squad had decided early on into their journey wear breastplates and thigh-guards only, rather than their full uniforms, meant that Teng could easily see the powder burns Ye had his wrist from where the cantankerous rifle had vented its fury at its owner.
The sarge sighed for just a moment, before nodding slowly. “Alright, but only because you’re insisting – and the one closest to the back.”
In other words, Ye would be the first to find out if something out there wanted some kin flesh.
Technically, there should have been a man opposite Ye to share that risk, but old Guan had come down with something a day before they’d been ordered to move out. There hadn’t been time to source a replacement in the time they had – and to be honest, the squad as a whole was glad for the extra space in the Crawler the man’s absence created.
“Ha,” Ye laughed as he slammed the switch next to him, inscructing the Crawler to opens its… rear mouth?
To be honest, Teng was still incredibly confused by the creatures he and his colleague rode – even if they were glad for their presence.
Of course, what manner of creature the Crawler was became a rather moot point indeed for all of them as the opening ramp revealed the scaly features of a crocodile that was damn near as big as the beast Teng was riding.
With scales as black as night, the thing looked almost as surprised as the squad as the two found themselves staring at each other.
It was sneaking up on the Crawler’s blind spot! Where the antenna-eyes don’t reach, Teng realized as he watched the crocodile bound along at a speed that easily allowed it to keep up with their steed’s slumberous gait. I told the lieutenant our formation was dogshit. And this is why!
Crawlers were supposed to cover each other’s blind spots when they didn’t have infantry deployed to do that job!
All those thoughts flashed by in an instant, and though the entire squad were quick to reach for their weapons – the spirit beast croc was quicker.
Between one blink and the next, its massive maw reached into the compartment and clamped around Ye’s midsection. The tiger-kin’s shrieks swiftly became a gurgle as he was violently ripped from his seat and out into the night.
Gunshots rang out as the squad started to fire, heedless of their sergeant’s warnings that the might hit their friend. It was a moot point. Teng had heard the crunch. If Ye wasn’t dead already he would be soon enough.
Yet their retaliation had little effect, blood flowed as their shots found found purchase in the creature’s unnaturally tough scales, but they didn’t bring it down. Even as the crawler slewed to a halt – the driver finally realizing they were under attack – Teng watched as the croc’s mouth snapped open and closed once more, swallowing Ye’s body whole.
Though it wasn’t easy. Despite the light from the Crawler’s interior and the flashes of gunfire, the thing seemed positively indistinct against the darkness outside.
More shots rang out, coming from what sounded like the other crawlers.
The other squads must have disembarked, Teng realized.
That was what they were supposed to do when under attack, to better cover the Crawler’s blindspots. And fortunately for them, the beast had recoiled from the incoming fire.
“Out!” The sarge shouted and the squad hastened to obey.
His eyes struggled to adjust to the low light as his feet hit the dirt, running to the side as he’d been trained to allow the next man to disembark.
Yet in the distance he could still see that the track-layer – the whole reason for their slow journey - was still moving. The great spiderlike machine was uncaring of the carnage behind it, moving along on its strange two-pronged metal web, laying down more with the arms on the front as it moved.
It was a peculiar sight, and when they’d first been given the task of escorting the machine on its journey to Ten Huo, Teng had been amused to think that their ‘small’ crawlers were required to provide escort for a beast that outmassed them five times over.
The thing was as big as a house.
He was less amused now.
If it would only turn and fight, it would make short work of the crocodile. Just one of its trunklike limbs could flatten the animal that had killed his friend.
Yet it didn’t turn. It continued on.
Swearing to himself, he turned his attention back to the croc. He could see it clearly now. Or relatively clearly. Four Crawlers had whirled upon the beast, the great spotlights on their turrets bathing it in white.
A move that actually seemed to hurt it more than the gunfire had, as Teng watched great plumes of oily black smoke roll off it where the light touched.
Shadow-Croc his mind automatically supplied.
If this… thing was going to be named anything, it was going to be that. An absurd thought for him to have as the thing turned its baleful eyes on them, but he oft found that his mind went to peculiar places in times of stress.
And staring down a beast that had killed a man whom he considered, if not a friend, then at least a colleague, definitely counted.
“Fire!” The lieutenants voice called from his spot in the cupola of the lead Crawler.
He needn’t have bothered. The entire platoon was shooting at the beast already.
Yet it still didn’t fall. Though it had reared back under the spotlight and recoiled from the shots, it refused to flee.
And soon enough that fear turned to rage and it started to charge, heedless of the damage it was taking.
They weren’t going to bring it down in time. Teng could see that. And as he glanced back to see if the flamethrowers were going to have more effect, he cursed as he saw the problem.
The plattoon’s formation was in shambles! The crawler’s fury was great but callous, they could not vent it without hitting the men who were supposed to be beside the beasts – not in front of them!
He tried to shout out a warning, but he knew in his heart that it was pointless. There wasn’t enough time.
That was when it happened.
A boom rang out and the croc stumbled. It was a very familiar sort of stumble. Teng had seen it often enough after bringing down a buck.
It was the sort of stumble an animal performed when it didn’t know it was already dead.
And as he watched, the croc hit the floor, its legs giving out the exact same way all those deer did back when he’d been just a simple farmhand.
The clearing fell silent as the creature fell still and all Teng could hear was the distant work of the track-spider and his own labored breathing.
Then the cheering started. It always did after the platoon survived a clash. After all, few things were more invigorating than the killing of a spirit beast. It was almost unnatural, the sudden wave of excitement that burned in his belly each time it happened.
It was a primal sensation. Kin against nature. Reason against instinct.
Teng raised his arms to the sky and yelled out his joy.
Though he quieted down as the sarge approached, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he regarded the blood around the beast’s muzzle. No doubt he was already blaming himself for Ye’s death. Still, the man wasn’t one to seek comfort from others. Or himself. He’d troop on.
Which was why Teng was the unsurprised as the rabbit-kin turned to where the final shot had come from.
“You know they were supposed to replace that,” he said conversationally. “The cannon. Before we left. Fortunately for us, some delay meant we left without getting a refit.”
Teng nodded, watching as men clambered over the dead animal, knives coming out as they fished for trophies from its claws, teeth and scales. Smoke no longer roiled off the thing, the effect having stopped in death. Which was a shame. It would have made for a far more interesting trophy if it persisted.
He’d get himself a scale or a tooth later – it would be a good reminder of Ye - but for now he was content to listen.
“I’d say that was lucky for us,” the Private agreed.
“Hmm,” the sergeant nodded. “I’m going to ask the lieutenant to put that fact down in his report.” It was a well-known fact that a large part of the fact that the man was an officer was more down to his literacy than any real skill in command. “The flamethrowers are good for smaller things, but sometimes you still need a big hit.”
The other man eyed him. “Would you cosign it?”
Teng considered it.
Cosigning a ‘recommendation’ was another strange rule that the militia had. Apparrently it was Lady Ren who came up with it. Basically, men could make suggestions that would theoretically be taken up the chain of command. The more signatures a recommendation received, the more ‘weight’ it was given.
And if it was considered useful, those signing it received a bonus.
Naturally, the men and women of the militia started throwing out random ideas and cosigning everything.
At which point punishments started being handed out for ‘frivolous’ suggestions.
Naturally, cosigning an idea started to have more weight applied to it.
Teng glanced back at the downed animal and an idea started to percolate in his head.
They’d been fucked before that crawler turned around. No two ways about it. And it wasn’t always possible to have a crawler around.
What they needed was… something bigger that could be carried by a man. Not for cultivators. But for things… like this…
“Actually…”