Bei forwent her Bakunawa mask.
Any cultivator worth their name would recognize her fighting style, which begged the question why she bothered?
Face.
To stride the streets of Beijing and invite challenge matches in the hated guise of the Philippine Dragon-serpent would be too much of an insult.
There had been incidents in the rest of Southeast Asia.
Usually, the Phoenix Dynasty’s grubby little talons got greedy.
Their eyes grew too big for their stomachs, as Grandmother’s saying went.
She had participated while wearing her mask in a few of those defenses when settlements wished to maintain their independence rather than join the so-called glorious empire.
Now, she was simply, Bei, the Rising Comet, smashing one arrogant young master after another on the streets of the Phoenix Dynasty’s capital city.
The thought brought a smile to her face.
“You dare mock me!” arrogant young master number three for the day spat.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your insolent smile disrespects my glorious lineage!”
“How can you tell?”
“What?”
“That it’s insolent. What if it’s just friendly? What if it doesn’t even have anything to do with you? What if I’m just happy that there’s such a pretty bird on that tree?”
“When I defeat you, woman, you will learn your place. Perhaps, you’ll be lucky and I’ll make you my concubine.”
“Wow,” she said flatly, “not even your wife. How exciting. Also, I’m a minor. How old are you?”
His face purpled, but he held his tongue.
“Oh, I see. You must follow the path of the raging pedobear, but,” she paused theatrically, turning her head to the angry sect that arrogant young master number one for the day belonged to, “I thought you weren’t part of the Panda Bear Sect.”
“Worm of a woman! I said that we are the Sect of the Roaring Bear. The great brown bears of the north.”
“That seems weird. Why would you call yourselves that. Those bears are more of a Russian thing.”
They had made her take classes for useless subjects. Old history, geography, flora and fauna. She supposed it could be useful to know what sort of mutant animals one might find in a particular region if they ever found themselves there.
“The great panda bear is the bear of our people. Have some pride. In the old days nations all over the world clamored to possess the panda bear. Most expensive of all bears.”
“Your nonsense betrays your fears,” arrogant young master leered. “Do not worry, for I will be gentle.”
“And you are not helping your pedophile image problem.”
A snort and a laugh.
All eyes turned to where the referee stood.
Beside the wizened-looking woman, which was deceptive because the cultivator was likely the strongest one there, though Grandmother would’ve had some say in the matter, was one of the fledgling phoenixes.
Princess number whatever.
Bei had already forgotten.
A daughter of the Phoenix Prince.
One of many nieces of the Empress.
The princess was about Bei’s age from the looks of it.
She stood with arms crossed and a smirk that conveyed her truth.
That everyone within range of her vision was beneath her.
Bei wondered if that was true.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t find out.
Minokawa, Cal, had definitively said no fighting with the phoenixes.
Also, it would’ve been bad face, Grandmother had explained, to antagonize a host that was there to ensure that the only dangers they faced were in the challenge matches.
“This is a challenge match,” the wizened referee said. “No fatal blows are permitted. It ends when one yields or is rendered unable to continue.”
Maiming was technically frowned upon, but not explicitly forbidden.
The hypocrisy of the sects had meant that she had to be on guard.
Both her previous opponents had tried to deal lasting injuries.
One had tried to slash her eyes, while the other had tried for her groin.
Such dishonor, such shame.
“Are the challengers ready?”
She gave the arrogant young master her best haughty gaze, raising her chin and looking down at him over her nose, wrinkling it as if she caught a whiff of something unpleasant.
They hated it when on the receiving end.
He sneered, stripping to the waist to reveal hard muscles that glinted in the sun.
The Iron Body Dao.
She almost snorted.
So obvious.
The energy in the gathered crowd buzzed.
The challenge area was a large dirt square in the middle of a roadside park.
There was a playground for children and old aunties vigorously practicing a variety of martial arts.
As the fight drew near, nearly all of those people had stopped what they were doing to gather around the sects, who claimed prime viewing positions around the square.
Martial aunties jockeyed for position.
Young siblings waged the eternal battle for a place upon father’s shoulders. Not realizing that those shoulders were broad enough for both of them to have a place at the top of the mountain.
It was, Bei realized, a fitting microcosm of many old Earthian societal systems.
Then she realized that her extraneous class lessons had infected her thoughts, threatening to divide her focus on the only thing that mattered.
She tore her glance away from the tall, broad-shouldered father and his warring children.
Her Dao was all that mattered.
It was less of singular, focused path than a twisting branch of many that weaved together like the twisted streets of Beijing.
That was acceptable according to Grandmother.
Bei was young and like a fledgling bird she needed to spread her wings and learn to fly.
Ironic in that was her greatest passion.
To feel the wind rushing through her hair as she soared the skies free from the arbitrary rules and restrictions that would keep her in a place dictated by others.
Lightening was her greatest focus.
She had soared past mere cloud-stepping, though still had far to reach true, unfettered flight.
In that one aspect she had already surpassed cultivators ten, fifteen levels above her.
Many masters couldn’t traverse the skies with as much ease and grace.
She was skilled and high-leveled for her age.
The Philippines was a good environment for growth. Access to challenges wasn’t restricted. The most difficult sparring partners available, if somewhat sporadically due to their duties. All the food a growing body needed. And all the time in the world to devote to her cultivation. There was no labor for the sake of labor just to keep her downtrodden like the peasant she had been once. No toiling just because it suited the powerful and wealthy.
Freedom.
True freedom was the biggest boon to her meteoric ascent.
“Begin!”
The ground shook with thundering steps, but Bei was already soaring through the air in a graceful flip.
Arrogant young not-master Iron Body snarled, leaping up with a knife hand thrust.
She tapped a light finger on his.
It was as though he struck a slip of silk blowing in the wind.
He lacked the intent and speed to pierce it.
She focused her Qi, turned it into lightning.
Small yellow arcs traveled down her opponent’s fingers, to his arm and all the way to his shoulder before expending her power.
A body made into a thing like unto iron had benefits and vulnerabilities.
Her opponent’s face twisted as his arm spasmed, muscles clenching painfully out of his control.
He was too weak.
A true master would’ve had techniques to address the vulnerabilities in their Dao.
She pulled her lightening from her right foot and leg to land a stomp on his ugly face.
Amplifying the blow almost wasn’t necessary as gravity did most of the work to plant him into the dirt.
She followed him down, planting both feet into his sculpted stomach.
Standing on him like a flag, she smirked before pushing her Qi into lightning.
Ha!
The way he convulsed with his eyes bulging was hilarious.
Comets rose, yes, but they also fell.
This technique was a fraction of her best one.
She flipped away in another graceful arc that carried her back to her starting position.
The arrogant young master didn’t rise.
The referee clacked a pair of sticks ten times before declaring Bei the victor.
The arrogant young master stayed down. His sect mates rushed to his side to help him up.
They sent daggered gazes in her direction while he spat blood and avoided her eyes.
She made sure that they saw her sneer.
“Perhaps, you should’ve learned the Iron Tongue Technique!”
She had no idea if such a thing existed.
“Too far, Bei,” Grandmother said mildly as she returned to where the rest of her fellow students waited.
“Who wishes to go next?” Grandmother said.
“I will!” Efren raised a hand.
Grandmother had eschewed tradition to teach anyone that wanted to learn.
She didn’t even call it a school, nor did she start a sect.
No, Grandmother’s experiences pushed her down a different path.
One in which martial secrets weren’t meant to be jealousy hoarded like some covetous dragon, held only to be doled out in a bid to increase one’s personal power and control over others.
They would share all that they new with each other in an effort to raise each other to the heights of their potential.
They would sweep across the martial world like an unstoppable tide that lifted all boats.
Bei caught the eyes of the young siblings on their father’s broad shoulders. One on each. They had learned.
A boy and a girl.
Both stared at her in awe.
She raised her chin, held her head high and smiled before waving.
She fought for all those little children that wished to be cultivators, but couldn’t because they lacked the wealth to pay the masters, lacked the familial connections to secure a position as students, were born into the wrong station or any number of things that arbitrarily disqualified them without regard for their potential.
They would give all those people… the young… the old… everyone in between the opportunity that the sects had denied them.
----------------------------------------
Howard was the best at what he did.
Now, what that meant depended on the situation and where he was in his life.
Back before the world went stupid he was a soldier and being the best meant putting bodies in the dirt.
It had been easy at first.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Kill the guys shooting at you with their AK’s and RPG’s.
Then it got harder.
Bombs in cars, bombs in the side of the road, bombs carried by the hajjis.
Sometimes he still saw the faces of the people he shot thinking that lump in their robes was an IED.
He had cared enough the first few times to give a shit about whether it had been one or something else, like a bag of dried fruit or in the case of one girl, a pad of paper and some pencils. She had liked to draw and was good at it. He still had strong memories of one of the other guys tossing her worn satchel into a trash fire on the other side of the dusty street.
Shit like that made him swear that once he was done then he was done.
It didn’t stick.
He had lasted a few years as a civilian.
He couldn’t shake the war and what he had seen and done.
His country didn’t help. No one wanted to keep a twitchy vet employed. Sure, they’d hire him, but within a year they’d get rid of him.
It didn’t help that he had self-medicated.
The VA wasn’t a help.
It felt like once they didn’t have a use for him, they didn’t care what happened to him.
Promises of tuition for college fell through.
The number was a lot lower than what the recruiters had promised before he had signed up and they made him jump through so many hoops to collect.
Almost like they made the process as complicated as possible so they could keep denying him over the slightest mistakes on the dozens of forms he had to get to a half-dozen different people.
In the end, they had won.
He had nowhere else to go, so he went back to the one place that he had been good at.
Back to the Middle East, killing people that didn’t want him there.
Then there was Afghanistan.
Same old shit.
Killing for nothing.
Ironically, the spires had improved his life.
A weird power, physiological changes.
They were fitting.
He had lived his life like an attack dog for the country and now the spires had turned him into something closer to that.
A feral-type.
Stronger, faster, tougher.
Animal-like senses and instincts.
Quicker healing for some weird reason.
The environmental changes had been even better.
Conscience-free killing like Drake’s crazy-ass wife liked to say.
Monsters.
Shit humans.
Finally, he could start atoning for what he had done long ago.
He didn’t care if it was even possible.
The only thing that let him sleep at night and take the nightmares was the idea that he could try.
That’s why he had gone all in with the boss after they had put the slavers into the dirt.
The boss wouldn’t lead him astray.
Their targets were shit scum that the world needed planted deep in the ground.
No more pulling a family out into the dusty street in the middle of the night because some informant claimed they had a cousin that was making bombs.
No more gunning down an AK-wielding teenager because someone in your unit got an itchy finger and had filled the kid’s dad with lead at a checkpoint a few weeks back.
Case in point, the huge mountain of muscle patrolling down the narrow, twisting street.
He had the jump on the massive alien.
They had the bad habit of not looking up, which meant that his hiding spot in a small balcony was unnoticed.
It’d be simple and easy to jump down and land on the alien’s broad muscular back. There was plenty of surface area for Howard’s big boots.
No chance of slipping and landing crotch first.
Contrary to movies, that’d only get him a pair of smashed nuts.
There was no height from which a man or woman wanted to land crotch first on anything.
Quick cowboy-style getaways weren’t worth the pain and risk as far as he was concerned.
He could land, grab one of the alien’s thick, bull-like horns. Use surprise and strength to twist it, exposing the side of his neck to his stabbing knife.
Not even the alien’s thick, dense muscle would protect him.
That’s what he would’ve done if he was still the soldier he had been.
And all the while he’d have no idea that the four-legged, two-armed alien, the mountain of muscle, was a refugee being forced to fight. That he was the equivalent of a teenager whose voice hadn’t even dropped yet.
See, this was why he’d work for the boss for as long as the man would have him.
None of that fog of war bullshit.
No chance that he’d put a kid into the dirt ever again.
He let the alien kid pass.
Weird guys.
Like a minotaur he remembered from old movies crossed with the horse guys from other old movies…
Wait—
They were both in this one movie where Brit kids went into a closet or some weird shit and ended up in fantasy land.
Fucking spires!
He hoped that there wouldn’t be any talking beavers among the invaders.
Especially, if they turned out to be dicks needing to be put into the dirt.
That’d be a tough one.
The huge alien bull-horse-man tromped away, hooves thudding down the street.
Howard marked the patrol route and waited a bit before heading to the next spot.
Boss’ orders.
Do their best to make sure the ones that ended up in the dirt deserved it.
----------------------------------------
Kayla took copious notes.
Thanks to the Universal Translation System the language barrier didn’t exist.
The Phoenix Dynasty Army’s command staff met in a nice boardroom in a tall building less than a mile away from the front.
Or rather the line that they decided was the front after they’d pulled back.
The general and his staff weren’t happy about it from the shadowed glances they kept shooting her way.
One old man, complete with a long, luxuriant white beard flowing down his chest kept sniffing at her.
Probably one of those cultivators.
She tried not to feel intimidated.
They were all way older than her and a few of them were higher leveled in classes that mattered.
She got the feeling that her presence meant that they couldn’t say what they really wanted to, which meant that they had to keep their talk focused on the Phoenix Empress’ commands.
So, in a way, they should’ve been happy she was there.
Otherwise they’d be distracted from their real job.
The thought made her sit up straighter.
She was here to learn how to conduct combat.
Sure, there was no shortage of old soldiers and officers she had already taken lessons from back home, but this was the first case of open warfare with organized invaders from another world.
There were rumors and stories of past events in other places.
Something about fishmen in California and that thing with the Christian cult versus the Meat Parade in Kansas that might’ve had some weird otherworld influences involved.
The dragon-president had hinted that she should ask Mr. Cruces about it when she had the chance, which so far had been never.
The guy was always busy flying all over China from what it sounded like.
At least he hadn’t left her alone.
That silver-haired lady that was way too hot was supposed to keep her safe.
Seriously, that had to be some kind of illusion or beauty magic.
Was that a thing?
The second, not the first.
There was definitely illusion magic.
Maybe there wasn’t a difference.
One could illusion up some beauty.
Speaking of distracted…
“The bullmen are testing our new lines,” some old guy said. “They’ve been emboldened by the foreigner’s shameful retreat.”
It was funny how they kept giving all the credit for their latest moves to Mr. Cruces when he hadn’t said a word.
The general tutted while an aide fanned him with this fancy gold-inlaid fan.
It seemed weird to Kayla because the building’s AC was working.
“They’ve overextended. Had we not been saddled with a foreigner’s failing strategy then we could take the opportunity to penetrate their lines and hit their supply centers.”
Which was also where all the wounded and youngest bullchildren were located.
It totally sucked for them.
Asshole eidolons making the old ones and teenagers fight.
Granted, Kayla was a teenager, but she was here because she wanted to be.
She was meant to be the leader of her dragon-president’s elite force.
The Dragon-favored Captain hoped to level up and advance into the higher tiers. Dragon-sworn, dragon-touched, dragon-blessed. The order and number of possibilities was uncertain even to the great dragon-president. The dragon-president’s aunt had been stingy with information.
“Those supply centers are filled with their equivalent to our civilians,” the old guy with the long white beard said in that serene, superior way that all the old guys with white beards she’d come across did.
There had been four, which was an oddly high number from her perspective.
“Then, perhaps, they should’ve left them at home,” some other old guy said. “One does not bring to war that which they fear to lose.”
“Did not our great war philosopher say that one must appear weak where they are strong and strong were they are weak?” the old beard guy said.
“Oh, I know that one!” she piped up before she realized the words were coming out of her mouth.
Sidelong gazes fell on her, even from the old guy seated directly in front of her.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat. “Sun-Tzu, The Art of War.”
“Yes, foreign child. We are familiar,” the general said.
“Yet another thing you people appropriated from our great culture,” some old guy said.
“I don’t know what that means, but okay?” she shrugged.
“And we are to allow children to our august war council,” some other old guy said.
It sounded more like a statement than a question to her.
She wanted to say something about a bunch of old guys sitting around jerking each other off while young people, like her, were out there fighting and dying and killing other young people, but that was definitely on the list of things Mr. Cruces had advised her against saying out loud only until she no longer needed to sit on the war councils.
So, she sat up even straighter and primly took notes like a young person.
This was why she had resolved to fight in the front even if she was supposed to become the commanding officer.
“They aren’t our true enemy,” a not so old guy said.
This guy was probably the coolest one out of the lot.
He was like some kind of direct representative of the Phoenix Empress, which she didn’t quite get what the difference was since the general and the other officers and advisers all answered to the empress.
Maybe he was like the Vader or something.
But then what did that make the Phoenix Princess seated next to the general.
She was one of the oldest daughters of the prince, which meant she was, like, twenty.
Scary intense.
She was tossing a small chunk of iron between her hands, which were currently on fire.
The metal would melt in her hands then harden a bit when she threw it.
Huh?
Maybe that’s why the general had his poor aide fanning him despite the AC being on.
The dragon-president never made anyone fan her, nor feed her grapes.
Kayla made a quick note to helpfully inform the general of that fact after her very last war council meeting.
“We continue as planned,” the not so old Vader guy said.
That seemed to be the final word because they stopped complaining about the war plan and started in on the stuff for after the plan succeeded.
What they’d do when the real enemies came through the spires.
----------------------------------------
Meng Shao was a civil servant.
One of many junior managers working in the Port of Shanghai.
The port was nowhere near as busy as it had been before the spires, but it was critical to the movement of people and supplies up and down the river. The dynasty had an eye to the future and the city as well as the port were integral to those plans. Global empires needed port cities.
The last few weeks of his life had been a nightmare that he couldn’t wake from.
Relief was short-lived.
The seven stages flashed across his face and thoughts in the span of five seconds.
Shock came and went quick.
The eidolon parasite in his brain had puppeted him for the past two weeks while he had been fully conscious.
He couldn’t deny it.
What he could deny was what Cal told him.
That he was doomed.
That salvation was temporary.
That the parasite had already eaten close to a quarter of his brain matter and that he was no longer truly himself.
The parasite was copying him bit by eaten bit. His memories, his personality, everything.
Cal was merely keeping the parasite down and out.
To remove it was instant death and it couldn’t be allowed to live.
Anger at the parasite, at Cal, at the dynasty for failing to protect him gave way to bargaining.
Which stopped before it had time to start.
Cal guided him to the inescapable truth of his situation.
Depression was fleeting.
The man understood his fate.
His only concern now was for his wife and two young children.
“I can give you the rest of the day and night to spend time with them and prepare them. I know it’s not fair,” Cal said.
“Why me?”
“Your youth and position. It would’ve used your body and guise to rise through the party’s ranks. If it’s any consolation it would’ve pretended to be you for as long as it needed to. Your family would’ve been safe for as long as it needed to be you. That might’ve been years, decades, the rest of you natural life. That’s what makes it horrific. No one would ever know. It’d just be you. Your memories, personality. Everything that makes you you.”
“My family…”
“Whatever you and they want, I will make happen.”
“Why? What do you want for your help?” Shao brought his head up from his cheap desk.
“Nothing. I came here to kill that thing in your head. That can wait until tomorrow. In the mean time I’ll make sure that you remain you until the end.”
“My wife has no other family. Neither do I. Without me she won’t have any status. Unless— she’s a teacher, you see? She has a co-worker that—”
“I understand.”
“His family is connected. They have status in the party. Women have to have children unless they provide something else worth more to the dynasty. He’ll force her—” he sobbed.
“Would you like me to take them elsewhere?”
“Where? There is no world beyond the Phoenix Empress’ sheltering wings. It’s all a lawless wasteland of monsters and hordes of marauders and cannibals.”
“Propaganda. Let me show you three places your family could move to…”
He shared a portion of his memories with the doomed man.
Like a virtual guided tour of the Philippines and California.
Hours in the span between seconds.
“How…” Shao blinked.
“They will be free to live as they choose. No forced marriage or breeding. No peasantry. They’ll have the time and opportunity to find that which will give them the most meaning. Their true passions.”
“I… okay…” a broken gaze filled with hope, however slight, “you can take me home? I think? I want to be with my family.”
“Sure.”
Shao glanced at his fellow junior managers at their desks.
He hadn’t noticed, but they were frozen in their tasks.
“I don’t know what to tell them. My kids. They’re too young for this.” Shao clutched his head.
“Tell them the truth. That you love them and are proud of them. That you will always love them no matter how far away you might seem. Make today the best day ever. Something they can remember when things get hard. Then, after you tuck them into bed tonight,” Cal handed Shao a small camera. “Record messages. Whatever you can think of. Your story. Advice for future life events. A sanitized explanation of your death and the truth for when they’re old enough. I’ll make sure that they get it all.”
Shao’s hands shook, but he took the camera.
He followed Cal out the door and to his last hours with his beloved family.
Cal kept the eidolon parasite in the poor man’s head trapped inside a seamless box that allowed nothing.
When the time was up he’d take it out and rip everything it had before utterly destroying the foul thing.
Meanwhile, he searched the rest of the city for more.
There was only one other.
The eidolon liked to spread itself out.
Cal sat down at a roadside noodle stall.
A young team of adventurer-types were celebrating their best success at the local encounter challenge yet.
They were low leveled, but had great dreams as everyone did when starting out.
He regarded their young leader.
Tall and lanky with broad shoulders a young fighter’s physique.
An echo of his son.
“Excuse me.”
It was cruel to shatter their hopes and dreams while they were at the highest point.
It was crueler to let the charade continue.
To let the young leader’s true self stay trapped, screaming where no one could hear him from within the parasite’s clutches.
It was a poor thing that he could offer the young leader.
Freedom in death and the promise of revenge.
Perhaps, the young team would accept a better opportunity for growth after they had properly grieved the loss of their childhood friend.