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Chapter 791
🕑 Added 2022-03-28 01:35:04 +0000 UTChttps://docs.google.com/document/d/1W5BdqSwk5KX1ye5rTKBaD2AgpDn3UfDDWW-feR37vhg/edit?usp=sharing
Standing atop the walls of Shi Bei beneath the pouring rain, Baatar flashed his grin at the hordes of Defiled surging in on all sides, for soon, he would embark upon a slaughter like none had ever before seen, and he would do so with his son at his side.
A bittersweet occasion this, the chance to fight alongside his son as equals and comrades rather than merely watching over him from afar, for as exciting and exhilarating as it might be, he never thought this day would come so soon. The girl had yet to even have her chance, though he suspected the day would come soon, and while little Alsantset was no doubt proud as a mother hen regarding the boy’s staggering achievements, Baatar had hoped to have his wife and daughter both by his side when they first brought little Rain out into battle as a Peak Expert. The girl wasn’t quite yet ready to stand at his side on the battlefield, while his rose had no doubt been held up by Shuai Jiao’s plots and machinations. A debt to be settled another day, but now Baatar had no choice but to bring the boy out into battle by himself, and he was not sure how to best approach this.
The problem was that the boy’s fighting style was too similar to Baatar’s for their efforts to mesh well together. Just as two tigers could not share a mountain, two forceful and aggressive Warriors would find it difficult to fight side by side. Regardless if you were a Peak Expert or otherwise, fighting alongside an ally would not result in an additive increase in effectiveness. One plus one did not necessarily equal two on the battlefield, because neither Warrior was able to unleash their full potential while fighting so close to their allies. Of course, the same went for the Enemy, but there were always more Defiled than Imperials on the battlefield, meaning fighting alongside your allies was always prudent. Even if you couldn’t bring out your full strength, being limited to eighty percent for the full battle was better than dying early on to a knife in the back.
Hence why most Peak Experts preferred to either fight alone or alongside a personal retinue of guards familiar with their styles. Only then could one ensure that their allies could fight alongside them without hindering them in any way, though usually, this meant one domineering Peak Expert became the focal point while the others supported in their own way. There were always exceptions to the rule, of course, though a truly equal partnership on the battlefield was a rare thing to find. Baatar’s old friends, the Wedded Exarches Bralton and Erien were one such example, while the siblings Song Qing and Song Jian another, and the fact that the Enemy had gone to such great lengths to kill them here in Shi Bei was a testament to how powerful and effective their cooperative efforts could be, and Baatar was determined to avenge his fallen friends and allies no matter the cost. What’s more, if he had his beloved rose fighting here alongside him, he was wholly confident that Bai Qi would have not only failed to injure him in that first ambush, but the traitor general would have also been skewered upon Sarnai’s spear. Together, their strength was greater than the sum of their parts, for she knew how to best direct Baatar’s aggression and how to rein him in when necessary, allowing him to focus on fighting and nothing else while she guarded his flanks as they moved about the battlefield in perfect harmony.
Then again, perhaps not, for the last time they’d fought alongside one another in this manner, Sarnai had taken grave injury and fallen into a coma, only two short years ago during the last siege of the Northern Wall. His fault, this he knew to be true, for he’d left an opening which allowed a Demon to take him by surprise, and Sarnai threw her spear at it to save him, leaving her defenseless against the second Demon still lurking in the wings.
Cursing how quickly time flowed by, Baatar refocused on the matter at hand. Easier said than done with the bloodthirsty wolf screaming to slaughter every enemy standing before him, but the patient hunter told him to wait for the opportune moment, and he knew which of them to heed here, so he set himself to planning for his inaugural battle with the boy once more. The biggest problem was that little Rain had progressed too far too quickly, leaving all his peers and wives far behind. Without capable allies who were familiar with his style to fight alongside, this meant Baatar and his retinue would have to watch over the boy instead. Not an issue for the others since the boy fought in a similar manner to Baatar’s, a bold and domineering style that focused on lightning quick aggressive and decisive killing blows meant to end the match as quickly as possible, but now he had to come to terms with how he would behave while fighting alongside his son. Better to have the boy adjust his style to support Baatar, but he wanted to see the Warrior Falling Rain had become and discover the limits of his current strength.
A man capable of cutting down a Divinity, yet not strong enough to battle a Peak Expert in single combat. A strange combination to be sure, but that was how little Rain described himself, though not in so many words, and the boy was always one to disparage his own efforts and achievements. Naaran’s perspective was only marginally more useful, as he agreed with the boy’s statements. “That traitor monk could have beaten him bloody if he’d been willing to lift a finger, but the boy’s not without promise. Treat him as a slower, less experienced and more hesitant Gerel who’s twice as reckless and hits about a hundred times harder if given three full seconds to prepare.” That was all Baatar’s old friend had been willing to say, indicating that he’d see for himself soon enough, which was both infuriating and understandable at the same time, since Naaran had only seen a brief glimpse of the boy’s strength and wanted to avoid colouring Baatar’s perception any more than necessary.
Glancing over at his old friend, he felt his grin grow even larger as he spotted a matching smile etched across Naaran’s face, a rare sight to be sure. It was good to see him smile again, and he had every right to be happy and proud, even if there were those who would claim otherwise. Nosy and meddlesome know-nothings who had no stake in matters at hand mostly, but life had not treated Naaran well, and Baatar was more than happy to share this moment with one of his oldest and truest of friends. The man had been denied his glory in youth, lost his wife soon after, then was abandoned by the rest of his family in a dark turn of events. At least now he had something to live for besides Kharuul, for even when Naaran rode with the Iron Banner, he only did so to get away from the village where he’d loved and lost so much.
Those old emotional wounds had been ripped open during the siege of the Central Citadel, and he was liable to take new ones here in Shi Bei today, but for the moment, Baatar could see the shadow of the man his friend used to be, and for that, he gave thanks to the Mother Above.
Gerel was also lurking quietly in Concealment somewhere nearby, but he was less adept at managing his rage. Not without reason considering Naaran had much more practice at it, but several times now, Baatar had been forced to physically rein Gerel in before anger overcame reason. He pushed himself too hard to make up for mistakes which were not his own, even if he would never care to admit that was his primary motivation, and just like little Rain, he demanded too much of himself. A shame they never got along, but it was hardly unexpected for two dragons to butt heads, though in this aspect they were more akin to stubborn billy goats who were too stupid to do otherwise. Perhaps the two of them would mend fences in the heat of combat, though Baatar wouldn’t put money on it and was just glad young Gerel was willing to serve as honour guard for little Rain.
For the Imperial Clan to withdraw their Death Corps and Royal Guardians was all but spitting in the boy’s face, and once the matter with the Defiled was settled and done with, Baatar hoped the outer provinces would take note and re-evaluate their relationship with the absent Emperor. Though the eastern province had largely funded the war efforts thus far, it was coin obtained by taxing the outer provinces, so what was the point in paying taxes in the first place? Better to keep the coin for themselves than continue tithing to a scheming sovereign sitting on the sidelines to see if the other provinces were worth saving, to say nothing of the black-hearted scoundrel Shuai Jiao who even now refused to show his face. North and South had come out in full support of Central, and even then, those venomous politicians were unwilling to put aside their schemes. Were it not for the innocent people of Central, Baatar would have no qualms about turning around to head home and leaving Central for the Enemy, because between Bai Qi and Shuai Jiao, he respected the former far more than the latter.
One dreamed of helping the people and took things too far, while the other claimed to help the people yet only cared for himself. Hardly a competition really, and while the Emperor might be too high to reach, Shuai Jiao had no such protection from Baatar’s inevitable retribution.
Assuming Mother didn’t kill the scheming snake first, but that wasn’t likely. She loved the Empire too much, not just the people and the provinces, but the concept itself, that of a singular nation of people working together to the betterment of all. Uniting the people of the Saint’s Tribulations Mountains was the result of her idealistic dreams and showed that it was possible, but it required someone as brilliant, hard-working, benevolent, and virtuous as Akanai of the People. Alas, there was no one else like her, and there might never be, meaning the Sentinelsmight well fall apart after her death. Baatar would fight to keep it together, but only to keep the memory of his Mentor and mother’s dream alive, and not because he believed in the ideal, meaning that if he took up the mantle of Chief Provost, it could only end in disaster.
Little Rain would be better suited for the role, for he shared Mother’s dreams and ideals, except he dared to dream even bigger and didn’t limit himself to the mountains alone. A dangerous prospect that, putting him at odds with men and women of power who were comfortable with the status quo, including the Emperor himself. All along, Baatar had hoped the boy would learn his limits before he overstepped them, but now, little Rain was akin to a Divinity and capable of enabling other Divinities to unleash their full strength, meaning his dreams might well finally be within reach.
Such exciting times they lived in, and things would only get more exciting in years to come, but first, Baatar had to ensure his son’s survival in this battle here today. Turning his attentions to the boy, he saw him heave a small sigh and waver on his feet while hiding a grimace of pain, a display which set Baatar’s heart to racing. For the boy to show discomfort at this time meant that a normal man would have long since collapsed in pain, or at least close enough to it. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder to steady him in place, a bad habit to get into for men of their status. Though they were currently shrouded in a veil of Concealment which few could pierce, it was always good to behave as if everyone could see you at all times when out in public, if only to avoid doing anything shameful. A lesson the boy had yet to learn, mostly because he was utterly shameless, but truth be told, Baatar found this sort of attitude refreshing more than anything else. He himself wished to hold his rose’s hand while out in the market, but between her fixation on the apparent difference in their appearance and the silly expectation that only women with loose morals would allow any sort of physical contact in public, Baatar had no choice but to bend to public opinion.
Not little Rain however, who held his wives’ hands and embraced them in full view without a care in the world for who might see them, a trend many youngsters had adopted much to the chagrin of the older generation, but new waves would inevitably overtake the old, though Baatar thought he had a few years yet before the boy reached his current heights.
A feat only possible because the boy refused to admit that he was human and at times needed to rest.
“Thanks Dad,” the boy Sent, wasting his Chi when he should otherwise be conserving it, so Baatar waved it off and threw up a Sound Barrier instead. His own Chi reserves were woefully low, but it would take at least an hour of dedicated meditation to make enough of a difference, as he lacked the boy’s ability to gather Chi as easily as breathing.
Which in retrospect made Baatar feel a little foolish, since the boy could waste as much Chi as he pleased and replenish it almost instantly, but it was too late for regrets now. So many things to keep in mind when dealing with little Rain, for he walked a unique Path all his own. “You are not resting,” Baatar began, resisting the urge to stroke the boy’s hair or thump his back with pride. “Now that you have become a pillar of the Empire, you will need strength to hold up the Heavens for others. It will not do for them to see you fall and falter now, not after so grand an entrance.”
And what an entrance it was, standing at the prow of ship riding a hundred-metre-tall wave of water ploughing its way through the desert sands, a tale he would never grow tired of telling for as long as he should live. Sarnai would be sour at having missed so magnificent a display, but considering it took him less than two years to bind so much Water Chi, then surely she would have a chance to see it the next time around. Mother in Heaven, the implications of the boy’s abilities were almost too staggering to comprehend, for now he theoretically possessed strength enough to wipe out any city or stronghold within two-hundred and fifty kilometres of the Azure Sea, if not further. Even though the boy’s good nature would never allow him to engage in such reckless destruction, his enemies would hardly sleep easy with only his kind intentions to keep them safe, and Baatar looked forward to seeing how they would behave moving forward. The smart ones would capitulate and work with the boy instead of against, but those too stubborn to accept which way the wind was blowing would be troublesome to deal with indeed. No matter though, for if the boy was too soft-hearted to kill whoever needed to be killed, Baatar was still strong enough to hold up the Heavens for him.
Or slaughter the boy’s foes with sword and pole-axe in hand. Whichever was easier and more convenient.
Not even a little put-off by Baatar’s gruff tone, the boy grinned and lied, “I’ll be fine.” A bold boy, lying to his father like that, but he was nothing if not bold despite seemingly ready to topple over from turning his head too quickly. “There’s uh… a lot more stuff that Mila never mentioned, and I’m not sure how to explain, but I can do more standing here than I can with sword in hand.”
A moment’s thought was all it took to arrive at the right answer, showing just how out of sorts the boy truly was. “You are doing what you did in JiangHu, using your Natal Souls to assist the soldiers of Shi Bei.”
The look of surprise said it all, but it was quickly replaced by amused relief, because now he knew he had someone supporting him. “Yea pretty much. Got it in one. Guess my head hurts more than I thought.”
Another bad sign, actually admitting he was in pain, considering the last time he’d done so was soon after shattering his Core in Sinuji. That being said, Baatar was pleased to learn that the boy was so grossly mistaken and a laugh escaped from his lips. “Good, good,” he began, so happy to still be capable of helping his boy. “And here I worried you had progressed so far that I no longer had anything worth teaching.” Unable to help himself, he draped his arm over the boy’s shoulder and pulled him close for a half-hug, and it felt so natural and normal for them to stand side by side on the battlefield like this, not just as father and son, but as Mentor and Disciple as well. “Listen well, boy. The first lesson you must learn is that no man is an island, not even one as powerful as you. As a commander, you take on too much responsibility, and in doing so, you put your soldiers and comrades at risk. If you falter and fail, then they will die, for they have placed their trust in your commands, so you must place your trust in their abilities. This is a lesson you know well, one you have put to good use in your business endeavours, but one which has not translated into your war efforts.”
Despite scanning the surroundings for signs of Concealed Wraiths or worse, Baatar knew the boy was scowling as he shuffled his weight from foot to foot, unable to contain his pique because he believed his father’s advice to be wrong, but was too respectful to point it out. To this end, Baatar met the boy’s eyes with a smile and gave him tacit permission to speak up. “I can help them win the battle this way,” was all the boy could muster, a weak argument which even he didn’t wholeheartedly believe, which is why he was quick to add, “Or at least reduce the number of casualties.”
There it was, Baatar’s soft-hearted fool of a son, and he loved him all the more for it, but the boy was not suited to be a General and commander. There were times when difficult decisions needed to be made, and little Rain was incapable of making them. “At what cost, son?” Seeing the boy’s confusion, Baatar steeled his heart and pressed on, for this was a lesson the boy needed to learn. “Imagine if you had a weapon that could win this battle outright, but doing so would cause famine to sweep across the Empire and kill millions through starvation. Would you use it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Even if our defeat here was written in stone?”
Again, the boy opened his mouth to answer immediately, but then he stopped to consider it. “Yes,” he replied after giving it some thought. “I mean, yes, I would not use that weapon. It’s one thing to die in war, and another altogether to die to famine.”
“Yet if we were to lose here, the Defiled would be free to run rampant throughout the West and possibly even break through to Central.” Stifling a sigh as the boy settled in to argue the facts, Baatar continued speaking so as not to give him a chance. “The fact of the matter is that a famine can be weathered, but a Defiled victory here in Shi Bei would mean the deaths of every last Westerner still resisting, as well as those we rescued from Pan Si Xing. Knowing this, you would still refuse to use the weapon?” Baatar had almost been tempted to leave those people behind, but he could not give an order which he himself would refuse to follow. Looking back on it now, even if his eyes were not amber and he was not of the people, Baatar liked to think that he would not have brought the boy back to his slavers, for doing so would have gone against everything he stood for. Back then, he’d thought the girl weak for wanting to protect a stranger she barely knew, but he saw this for the strength it was, the strength to stand for what she believed in, and a strength little Rain shared.
He showed it now, holding fast to his conviction in spite of having no leg to stand on. “That’s… I don’t know.” Good, good, the boy was thinking now, rather than complaining about unfairness or arguing the details. “The logical thing to do would be use the weapon, because we’d save more lives in the long run than those we lose to famine, but life isn’t just about numbers. Even if less people die, that doesn’t justify causing a famine. Being the lesser of two evils doesn’t make it the right choice.”
Alas, the boy was wrong in this, and Baatar had no choice but to explain why. “We are not speaking of life, boy, but war, and war is nothing if not about numbers. Given the choice, I would use the weapon in a heartbeat, because death by starvation is a better alternative to leaving the West to the Enemy.” Forcing himself to look the boy in the eyes, Baatar mustered up every scrap of confidence he had and stood strong before his son’s hurt and disappointed stare. “You value the lives of your soldiers and do everything you can to preserve them, which usually is the mark of a good commander, but sometimes, lives must be spent in order to ensure even more lives can be saved.”
The boy had no argument for this, so instead, he tried to argue the circumstances, pointing at himself and saying, “One man’s strength to save hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers seems like a good trade to me.”
And there it was, the boy’s greatest failing of all, his propensity to undervalue his own achievements. “Perhaps, if that one man were anyone other than you.” Shaking his head with a smile, he patted his son’s head and said, “You will find this an unpleasant truth to bear, but war is an unpleasant affair, so heed me and do not argue before considering my words carefully. Your life is worth more than the hundreds or thousands or even millions of lives you might save expending your strength in this manner. It matters not how many soldiers you lead to Insight or how many commoners you guide to become Martial Warriors, because you have reached a level of strength which no number of crossbows, spears, or even cannons could ever match.”
It was difficult for the boy to stay silent, but he heeded Baatar’s advice all the same, and it was easy to see him turning over the statement in his head, and even easier to see that he agreed in spite of himself. If the Enemy should for whatever reason choose to break the Treaty, little Rain was the only person capable of keeping the Enemy Divinities from wreaking untold destruction upon the Empire and turning Shi Bei in to a second Arid Wastes, to say nothing of a deterrent against the Enemy’s hidden stockpile of Anathema which they had yet to utilize. Seeing the boy’s crestfallen expression as he struggled to accept the truth, Baatar stifled a sigh and patted his sweet son on the back. “You are a kind boy and always have been, a trait which I admire greatly. To have seen and suffered through such darkness yet emerge better for it, I dare not claim I could do the same.”
There was the carrot, but now came time for the stick, one Baatar could not bear to use while looking at his son. “But as you said before, mercy to one’s enemies is cruelty to one’s self, and you can no longer afford to be so cruel. The Enemy has come with the intent to slaughter us all, while our allies have left us here to die, but I have faith in the men and women of Shi Bei.” Gesturing at the soldiers fighting bitterly along the walls, Baatar continued, “I believe in their ability to hold these walls and stand firm against the Defiled tide, for these mere foreign tribesmen are nowhere near enough to break them. Soldiers will fight and die, but they will hold nonetheless, because they know that this is a price which must be paid, as this is only the beginning.”
Glancing down at his son, Baatar saw just how hurt and lost the boy was, so unwilling to accept things as they were and determined to overturn convention upon its head. There might come a day when he succeeded, though Baatar would hesitate to say that crossbows and cannons would change war for the better, but he would adapt or die as needed. The boy was so talented and brilliant beyond his years, but it would take time for the world to come around to his radical ideas, time he would have aplenty if he’d managed to become something akin to a Divinity in longevity. “This is your stage, son,” Baatar concluded, just brimming with pride as he held his boy close and did what he could to soothe the pain of the truth, “Where you will soon show the world your newfangled strength, but you must wait until it comes your turn to fight. Soldiers against soldiers and Generals against Generals, such is the way of war as it stands, and you are no longer a mere soldier.”
For once, the boy nodded and accepted Baatar’s lesson without uttering a word of dispute, or at least he did until he realized what had just been said. “Wait what? You expect me to go out and fight? Like…fight fight?” Glancing around in a panic, he stuttered and said, “But…. Uh… Grand-Mentor told me to sit tight, so…”
“She did,” Baatar replied, fighting the urge to also glance around, only to do so under the guise of sweeping for Wraiths, “And I would never dare tell you to disobey her, but… there are exceedinglyrare occasions in which she might be… overly cautious. Only because she loves and cares for you,” he quickly added, just in case Mother was actually listening somehow, because she was never one to spare the rod and spoil the child, even if said child was over eighty years old. “And her warning was meant to keep you from pushing the limits of a Divinity, whereas I want you to display your strength as a non-Divinity to bolster the spirits of the soldiers.” Meeting the boy’s eyes with an impish smile, Baatar found an equally mischievous smile awaiting him. “Surely you are curious about the limits of your strength too, and here, I can be right there by your side as you test them.”
Nodding along in silent agreement, the boy fell silent once more as he watched the battle unfold, and this time, Baatar knew his son was only idly watching because he could not for the life of him stand still. It was simply his nature, his chaotic mind reflected in his jittery actions, something they all once thought was a sign of lacking focus, but had since been proven untrue. It wasn’t that the boy was incapable of focusing on the task at hand, but that most times, he had no need to focus and could afford to let his mind wander as he pleased without negatively impacting his performance. That’s why meditation had been so difficult for him at first, because he found it boring and unbearable to still his thoughts, the same way a Peak Expert accustomed to Cloud Stepping would find galloping on horseback slow and tedious. A sign of a strong mind perhaps, which was in line with the boy’s most recent claims regarding a Balance between body, mind, and soul, though Baatar still had yet to wholly comprehend everything written in his son’s seemingly indecipherable notes.
Thus, it came as no surprise to Baatar when, not five minutes after promising to rest and recuperate, the boy found himself no longer able to stand idly by. “Dad,” he began, with a saccharine inflection that was nowhere close to what one might hear in little Mila’s voice when asking her father for a favour, but had the same general intent, and damn Baatar if he wasn’t dying to fulfill his son’s every request. “I know you said I should rest, but stamina wise, I’m all topped up and ready to fight. I’m just a little overdrawn on Chi, so I should be fine so long as I stop using it.” In spite of himself, Baatar grunted and nodded in agreement before hearing what else the boy had to say, which was a mistake because he added, “If that’s the case, then is it alright if I showed myself and said a couple words to the troops, to inspire them or something?”
Dangerous, truly dangerous, for there was no doubt in Baatar’s mind that the Enemy would stop at nothing to kill little Rain. In fact, the siege of Shi Bei almost seemed to have been tailor made to keep the boy isolated in Meng Sha, though there still remained the mystery of why Hongji’s scouts stationed outside the walls had been unable to inform anyone of the city’s plight. Until little Rain informed them, the soldiers of Meng Sha had been blissfully unaware of an all out offensive here in Shi Bei, which meant there was foul play afoot, but he would have to wait before settling those debts. Regardless, for the boy to show himself and say a few words… the first was foolish and the latter unwise as in spite of many laudable qualities, he was not a man who inspired confidence through words or actions. That being said, the boy was not only the Legate and technically Baatar’s superior in the chain of command, but he was also something akin to a Divinity, so preventing him from following his heart’s desires might well impact his performance later on. Divinities were an emotional bunch, always one to follow their whims, as evidenced by Taduk and Mei Lin’s personalities, the latter of which Baatar only recognized because Mila had given the girl’s secret away in her excitement.
A second Ancestral Hare, one wholly unrelated to Taduk. If so, then the eccentric Healer was a better man than any of them knew, for the urge to mate and procreate was a powerful one indeed, one that drove all life on this world as they knew it.
As for the boy, he’d always been one to do things his own way, ignoring all their attempts to get him to stop cuddling the pets in full view and refusing to adhere to any reasonable fashions, so regardless of what Baatar said here and now, the boy was liable to do as he pleased regardless. “As you wish,” he said, stifling a sigh and signalling his guards to be on the alert as he dropped his Concealment, only to find that the boy’s shroud was still in place. It fell after a moment’s consideration, for the boy needed to consciously dispel it rather than actively maintain it, which led to him forgetting he was Concealed in the first place. A staggering difference to behold in action, and Baatar was humbled by it, so he fell in line beside his son with sword and pole-axe at the ready, watching the skies and stones for any sign of threat.
To his credit, the boy didn’t speak much or even at all as he strode along the back of the battlements, allowing his presence to speak for him. While he himself was not much to look at, soaked to the bone in his plain black robes which lacked any and all finery and his hair pulled back in an unadorned bun, the presence of his three Spiritual Weapons floating alongside him spoke volumes to his strength. The sword and shield hovered to his left and right at the perfect height for him to reach out and grasp, while his glaive bobbed along behind him in an almost whimsical manner, floating this way, then that as if seeing the sights yet never straying too far out of reach. Anyone who knew anything about retrieving weapons from afar would be gobsmacked by this display of consummate skill, for a large part of moving your Spiritual Weapons without touching them was utilizing momentum and other forces to overcome inertia. You weren’t so much moving the weapons with your mind as you were guiding them back to your hands, but little Rain made it appear as if his weapons had minds of their own, which Baatar only now realized was an actual possibility given the boy’s penchant for using Natal Souls and Keystones.
This was enough to impress most of the rank and file, though Baatar supposed the giant wave the boy rode in on had been impressive enough, but the true marvel of Falling Rain was only noticeable to Peak Experts of exceptional perception. Baatar himself could only barely sense the depth of his son’s Presence, a deep and unfathomable ocean that appeared and disappeared like a mote of dust skirting in front of your eyes, yet there was no mistaking its existence. Difficult to describe it to someone lacking the ability to perceive it, similar to trying to describe colours to the blind or music to the deaf, but Baatar always regarded this Presence as a metaphysical baring of fangs, a warning to rivals and prey alike regarding the strength of the individual in question. Most Martial Warriors were too weak to emit a presence of their own, or perhaps they instinctively hid their presence so as not to alert others of their existence. The old wolf of the Mountains had a majestic presence indeed, one unrivalled by any other Divinity Baatar had ever seen, but in contrast, Taduk barely had any Presence at all, to the point where he could fool even another Divinity.
As for the boy? His presence was not quite at the level of the old wolf’s, nor was it a match for Hua Lie’s, though there were times when he came close enough for it not to matter. Other times, however, the boy was every bit as ordinary as Taduk, and even the lowliest Martial Warrior could sense it, for their disbelief was etched across their faces as they watched their Legate calmly stroll by. Not because they were skeptical, but because they could hardly contain their amazement that someone so young and ordinary in appearance could be a true dragon among men.
It was clear the boy had a destination in mind however, for he soon turned and politely made his way through the line of soldiers to stand closer to the fighting. All this effort just to watch Hongji fight, Baatar was unable to fathom his son’s line of thinking, for even though the man was an exemplary commander, his personal strength left much to be desired. While still a Peak Expert, his mastery of the Forms was woefully inadequate compared to his peers, for his Movements were as plain and ordinary as they came. The sceptre in his hand was more reminiscent of hammer than mace as he raised it high and smashed it down on Defiled head after head, while the best thing one could say about his footwork was that it was clean and ordered, though some would call it simple and basic. It wasn’t that Hongji was doing anything wrong, for his Movements were textbook perfection, but they lacked any and all elegance or artistry, anything to mark those Movements as his own. The only thing that stood out about him was his Ethereal Palm, which was more interesting in theory than it was practical in combat, as the man himself demonstrated by throwing out a palm which failed to even knock a common Defiled off the battlements.
In short, Hongji was a basic Peak Expert, as low in the rankings one could go whilst still remaining a Peak Expert.
Making him perfect for little Rain’s intended purpose, as Baatar soon realized as the boy opened his mouth to speak. “Well fought, Commander Hongji,” he said, his words carrying clearly over the din of battle yet lacking the intense, boisterous quality that everyone associated with Speaking. “I see you’ve been hard at work improving your Ethereal Palm, and the results are impressive indeed.” Not at all, to the point where a good portion of the crowd and even Hongji himself wasn’t sure if the boy was being facetious. “If I could be so bold as to offer a word of advice? You appear to be experimenting with transformations of the Ethereal Palm with limited success, but you are too fixated on the form itself. Chi is Chi, and your Domain is your Domain, so there is no real need to shape them.” Using his hands to demonstrate, he explained, “When you punch, your fingers form into a fist almost naturally on instinct. The same happens when you slap, scratch, poke, or chop, your hand forming the shape best suited for this particular purpose without any real need to guide it.”
There was a power to the boy’s voice that compelled everyone to listen, even as Baatar fought against it in order to remain guarded against ambush, but this same compulsion seemed to affect the Defiled as they slowed to listen and watch. The boy’s hand punched softly at empty air, only to turn into a palm, a claw, a spear, and a blade, not in form but in function as he moved through these seemingly innocuous motions, and Baatar could almost see the secrets of Heaven hiding within them, as if these were new Movements of a Form none of them had ever seen. “Your Chi and your Domain are the same way, so when you move to strike, you need not put so much effort into shaping it, for much like your hand, your Chi and Domain already know the optimal shape to take once your Intent is made clear.”
Truth be told, Baatar had not even known Hongji had been experimenting with transformations, though it made sense given little Rustram’s recent staggering progress along the Martial Path, thanks to a moment of Insight obtained from reading Hongji’s notes. The Commander no doubt had recognized his own handiwork and been disheartened to see someone so young surpass him in a skill of his own creation, hence his efforts to elevate his own skills in secrets. The man was nothing if not prideful, but deserving of his pride, for he worked harder than anyone else when it came to planning for the worst, even harder than little Rain at his most paranoid. Seemingly having arrived at a breakthrough thanks to the boy’s guidance, Hongji let loose with a victorious cry as he raised his sceptre high, only to bring it down as inelegantly as he did before.
A blow which killed not only the Defiled tribesman who was directly struck, but seven more standing nearby. In addition to this, three others suffered blunt trauma injuries to their upper torsos, denoting that they’d been within Hongji’s range, but not so close as to be fatally struck, though the nearby soldiers quickly remedied this with the cold application of steel. As for the boy, he was still speaking as if sitting across a table from Hongji and expounding on the Dao of Domain Plating.
A lesson Baatar paid close heed to, for he too wished to learn this skill, though the boy was all too vague about the specifics. Not without reason, as he could easily do more harm than good by guiding others so recklessly, but there on the wall before Baatar’s eyes, he saw three Domain-Capable Martial Warriors also find Insight and unleash their unique attacks, while Hongji cackled with wild delight and killed every Defiled standing before him with a wave of his hand, which threw out an invisible blade that sliced his foes from hip to hip.
When the boy finally stopped speaking, he looked no different from before, which was better than looking worse. Seeing Baatar’s skepticism, the boy feigned innocence and said, “I wasn’t using Chi or Heavenly Energy, just regular old brainpower. I’ve been thinking about Domain Plating a lot, since it seems like a really versatile skill and having some Chi armour would just be great. I haven’t quite gotten the hang of it just yet, but I also haven’t really had time to experiment.”
“There was more to it than that, boy,” Baatar Sent. “Those words… they were not your own.”
“What? I didn’t steal them from anyone. I don’t think I’ve even heard anyone talk about Domain Plating before.”
“No, boy.” Rolling his eyes at his son’s staggering lack of piety, Baatar subtly indicated the Heavens above and Sent, “What I meant is that your speech seemed Inspired, in a way.”
“Huh…” It was clear the boy was displeased to hear it, for he had an innate aversion to all things religious, though Baatar understood it well enough. If he’d suffered through what the boy had suffered, he too would have begged the Mother Above for mercy, and he might well have hated Her for leaving him to suffer so. “I guess that’s possible,” the boy begrudgingly admitted, though he was quick to add, “But it could also just be the fact that I’m… less separated from the Heavens, I guess? Closer to Heavenly Energy in its raw and natural form maybe? Though it does beg the question if there’s any cost to Insight. Me sacrificing my Natal Souls seems to help others find Insight, and I already know there’s a hidden cost to that, so is it possible that Insight is an exchange of soul for knowledge?”
The first part of the boy’s statement sent a chill down Baatar’s spine, and he wanted to berate himself for allowing the boy to waste his time so. “Sit down and meditate,” he instructed, not even bothering to Send. “Not here. Back of the battlements. Now.”
“Uh…” Allowing himself to be hustled along under a shroud of Concealment, the boy asked, “Why?”
“Because of what you said.” Seeing the boy’s confusion, Baatar gathered every scrap of patience left to him and said, “If you truly are closer to the Heavens and able to find Insight, then you should stop wasting it on others and focus inwards on yourself. Doubly so if this Insight comes at a cost, because you, my son, have strength aplenty, but no earthly idea how to use it.”
“Oh.” The boy’s eyes widened. “Oh! Oh damn!” Unwilling to waste even a second more, he plopped down on the battlements where he stood and crossed his legs in meditation, finding Balance so easily it came upon him before he took his next breath. Chuckling to himself as he felt the Energy of the Heavens stir around the boy, Baatar turned to face the Enemy and stood careful guard over his son.
Now, he was even more excited to see how the boy fought, but every second of meditation might well mean another Insight to propel him along his Path, and Baatar was merely pleased to have been a part of it.
