A cornflower blue streak cut through the bleak monochrome clouds, its flight unimpeded by the cutting gales that assaulted it.

Even from a distance, all the Misty Cradle disciples could feel the power contained within the mysterious phenomenon. More disconcerting was the way each of their identification talismans hummed in response to the strange occurrence.

As it came closer, it became obvious that what they were observing was an item coated in a complex formation of Qi.

Seemingly having identified them, the object slowed considerably before settling into a circling pattern above them. Zhao raised an eyebrow at Che Fang, the two alone at the front of a line of novitiate cultivators.

The procession of recruits had stopped to gape at the sight of the supernatural item in the sky, liveliness returning to their faces for the briefest of moments.

The highborn man indicated a grabbing motion with his hand, which Zhao mimicked. Acknowledging the gesture, the trinket broke from its orbit above to hone in on his palm.

After diving through the canopy of the giant pines surrounding them, the jade landed softly in Zhao’s grasp.

The paler blue color of the treasure stood out against his Inner Disciple robes, indicating a status above his own. Che Fang urged the recruits to keep shuffling forward against the stiff wind, while the other official disciples caught up with them.

Nan Xi and Ming Fe were the first to reach them, the former cursing under her breath as the muddy ground strained to coat her robes with every step. When they stepped off the well trampled ground onto the rocky outcropping Zhao stood upon, the disgruntled woman sighed in relief.

The final three members of their group appeared at the tail end of the recruits a few minutes later, Tai Yang and Bai Chi bickering.

“No, no, no!” Bai Chi insisted. “Technique is far more important than raw strength you brute! Stop filling his head with your nonsense.”

Tai Yang chortled. “Without the power to back it up, fancy forms will ultimately break before might.”

Stuck between them, Gu Hong raised his hands placatingly. “Maybe,” he suggested, “both are important to a cultivator?”

Both older men turned to regard him as if the boy had spit on them, but Zhao stepped in before they could voice their disagreement.

“Brothers, we have a serious matter to attend to,” Zhao said while revealing the item in his hand, treating it as if it were an explosive seconds away from incinerating them.

Bai Chi took one look at the jade and gulped. With wide eyes he noted, “I’ve only ever seen one like that before… it was a message from a Core Elder.”

Everyone tensed up at the declaration. Core Disciples rarely interacted with the outside world, let alone Core Elders.

Anyone considered that valuable by their sect devoted themselves wholeheartedly to pursuing cultivation at the expense of all else. They were only brought out of seclusion to deal with serious matters, which they always brought to a close quickly.

Steeling his nerve, Zhao sent a strand of Qi into the message jade to stimulate it. His action caused a booming voice to resound in his head, ‘Inner Admissions Disciple Zhao Mi. Your orders have been changed by the authority of Core Elder Xi. The Misty Cradle Sect’s enemies currently siege our territory from each of the cardinal directions. You are to use the recruits you have gathered to delay their encroachment on the north.’

There was a pause in the message before the directive continued with a heavier gravitas, ‘The Misty Cradle Sect will not tolerate shameful behavior at this juncture. Dismissed!’

Zhao stayed a slight tremble in his hand as he paled.

Rather than explain their orders, he passed the jade around the assembled disciples.

If his predicament were less dangerous the exposition might have been funny. Elder Xi’s manner of speaking was strikingly similar to that of certain NPCs from the video games of his previous life.

‘Well, except for that little addendum he added,’ Zhao thought bitterly.

Whatever internal politics were afoot at the sect, he remained oblivious. Up until recently, Zhao had done his best to keep a low profile, and asking probing questions had been counterproductive to that goal.

With all the old monsters crafting plans-within-plans, Zhao had assumed he would have failed to comprehend any valuable insight regardless. Now he was starting to doubt his previous approach, as it occurred to him that Elder Xi might have just sentenced their collective slaughter.

Zhao could imagine exactly how the argument played out in the Council of Elders.

The northern territories were the least valuable, given that the landscape became increasingly treacherous and deserted the farther north one went.

If considering each cardinal direction strategically, the north was by far the most isolated given it abutted the so-called ‘end of the world’ mountain range. An occupying force would need to be constantly resupplied from the east or the west.

It would be easy for one of the Elders to propose abandoning the north and its dearth of treasures, talent, and commerce in favor of throwing greater effort into defending a more valuable area. After all, even if the northern lands fell, they were useless and could not be held once the enemy’s primary forces were rebuffed.

An Elder opposed to Zhao’s group would have pointed out that the band of lowly Inner Disciples sent to ‘recruit’ in the north had already killed a Foundation Establishment cultivator. One of their allies would have suggested that, surely, they could do it again.

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The fact that the Che clan and the Li clan held a grudge against the disciples in question would be played off as irrelevant, easily dismissed by claiming unity was more important in the face of an outside threat.

Elder Shen would have had no choice but to relent in his protests, as his motives would already be suspect after playing fast and loose with the rules in sending the disciples out in the first place.

The conspirators would have claimed there was no mal intent, but that if the disciples did die, it would be no great loss.

Zhao could almost see the smirks on those old bastard’s faces as the orders flew out of the sect, sealing his fate.

Maybe he was being paranoid.

Although the Myriad Voices art had calmed down after the night of the attack, it could easily be creeping back in. Zhao turned to Che Fang to probe his thoughts.

“I suspect we have been targeted, which is unsurprising,” the genius speculated, reaching the same conclusion as his sect brother. Not wanting to demoralize the others, the two kept their convergent judgements quiet.

Before rumination could take hold of them, Bai Chi spoke up. “So, we advance to the next village and fortify it. Arm the mortals,” he said. A faraway look crossed his face as he continued, “A last stand where we give our lives to buy the sect room to breathe. A noble death.”

Tai Yang actually nodded to that absurd resolution.

Thankfully Nan Xi, Ming Fe, and Gu Hong all looked unresigned to their supposedly impending deaths. The trio’s downtrodden gazes and nervous fidgeting gave them away.

For his part, Zhao thought he probably shared Che Fang’s calculating countenance as he wracked his brain for a better plan.

The internet had once let Zhao read stories of battles long over on a whim. While entertaining, he’d never taken them seriously enough to recall their strategy or tactics in a moment of crisis.

Names like Sun Tzu or Carl von Clauswitz had been memed online and discussed in lectures enough that Zhao could recall just enough wisdom to be frustrated.

‘Appear weak when strong and strong when weak’ sounded nice but offered no concrete guidelines for him to adopt.

What made it worse was that an ancient Chinese general’s advice would probably be most applicable to his situation, given an absence of mechanized weapons and concepts like total war or- Zhao paused as a thought occurred to him, ‘Or guerilla warfare.’

His gaze sharpened as he considered it. At the very least, he supposed it would help them hide their lack of numbers.

‘Well, it's worth a try to convince them,’ he decided.

Clearing his throat, Zhao spoke up. “I have an alternate proposal,” he said carefully, catching the gathered disciples’ attention. “A great general once said ‘A great warrior fights on his own terms or not at all’, so perhaps-”

Bai Chi’s Qi spiked. “Are you proposing we desert our sect?!” he accused, reaching for his blade.

“No!” Zhao asserted, waving his hands to dispel the notion. “What I mean is…” he trailed off, struggling to voice his thoughts.

“What I mean is this,” Zhao restated before pressing on, “the Yellow Autumn Sect would expect resistance of the form Bao Chi described. Rather than play into their hands, we could use subterfuge to muddy their understanding of the situation. Convince them we are greater in number and more skilled than the truth.”

Nan Xi gave him a flat glare. “Fancy words from a delusional man,” she accosted with a shake of her head.

Waving a finger at Zhao she ranted, “I don’t want to die either, but you can’t expect encouraging words to lead us to victory. All I hear is the desperation of a man whose mind is being corrupted by a cursed spiritual art that he knowingly engaged with!”

Tai Yang stepped towards Nan Xi with a grim expression, only to be stopped by a gentle hand from Zhao Mi.

“Why not listen and help me think this through?” he counseled. Shrugging Zhao added, “I can think of worse uses of our time than brainstorming ways to survive.”

The fight in Nan Xi’s eyes died down. “Brainstorming?” she muttered confusedly, the question unspoken.

“Er-” Zhao stumbled through an explanation, “It’s an expression. A rough translation would be a preliminary discussion of ideas, no matter how preposterous they are.”

“A translation from what?” someone muttered. Zhao pretended he hadn’t heard.

“What tactics are you proposing we adopt?” Che Fang questioned intently, ideas flickering behind his eyes.

After a deep breath, Zhao set his shoulders and presented his idea. “We disappear into the forest. Pick where and when we fight. Focus on setting traps and bait the enemy into wasting their effort whatever way we can.”

Bai Chi’s face turned reddened like a ripening tomato. “So we abandon the mortals?!” he shrieked, spittle flying as he pressed on, “Let those demonic cultivators tromp around our territory and close in on the sect proper with what amounts to token resistance?”

Whirling on Tai Yang, the older man grabbed his sect brother’s shoulders. “Surely you, of all people, see the absurdity of this suggestion!”

Zhao held his breath, knowing that the battle maniac’s next words would likely determine whether the others would fall behind him or mutiny.

“...Bai Chi,” The giant said simply, grabbing the back of the shorter disciple’s neck and bringing him in close. “You should speak more carefully. One could almost mistake your words for insubordination.”

Before the man in his grasp could muster a defense, Tai Yang smiled fiercely. “Do you not remember our earlier discussion, Bai Chi? Even I was forced to admit that the only hope of success against a stronger opponent is relying on skill. Is this not the situation we find ourselves in?”

Che Fang and Zhao exchanged a glance, shock evident on both their faces. The former quickly picked up the conversation. “Thank you, Tai Yang. I agree, in the face of certain death we must adopt unconventional means. All in favor?”

Their youngest, Gu Hong, raised his hand zealously. If the stars in his eyes got any brighter, Zhao would have thought Qi was involved.

Ming Fe also enthusiastically agreed. A different emotion swam in her gaze, directed towards Tai Yang. Zhao quickly shifted his gaze towards Nan Xi.

Feeling the mood turning, she too raised her hand in support of Zhao’s proposal.

Deflating upon being left the sole member of their party to object, Bai Chi closed his eyes. “Fine,” he managed to say between clenched teeth. “Though I object, I will go along with this insanity until the futility of it becomes apparent to all.”

Zhao nodded appreciatively, considering the older disciple’s response the best he would get.

“Let us resume our journey,” he said tactfully, “and while we walk, everyone can consider exactly how we can execute my idea. I expect each disciple to submit five suggestions once we make it to the next village.”

Adopting the demeanor of a competent leader, Zhao took the lead in catching up to their recruits.

Che Fang stuck to him dutifully, his face tight with concentration. Together they wove through the flagging mortals, making their way to the head of the convoy easily.

When Zhao absently glanced back, he caught sight of the cold calculation taking place in Che Fang’s mind as the ruthless disciple evaluated the people around them.

With a shiver, he faced forward and resolved himself not to question the machinations of the disgraced young master.

Zhao wasn’t blind to the fact that, months ago, he had made a similar decision regarding Tai Yang. He reasoned that such an approach might be best applied to all his companions going forward, lest he drive himself more mad attempting to decode each type of crazy cultivator's thought process.