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Chapter 744 unedited unmemed
🕑 Added 2021-09-25 01:25:46 +0000 UTCI just never learn. Chapters are in fact getting even longer, and i both love and hate it. Sorry for extra lateness, but hope it was worth it. Enjoy!
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1UxJlqW1mChGuukIagYVjJvFItoG7gTkJD0zx2oJNjDQ/edit?usp=sharing
Dressed and ready to greet the day, Yan stopped to bid her beloved husband a silent farewell while wondering how she ever got along without him.
The mornings had been long and lonely these last two weeks, yet not anywhere as lonely as she suspected the days ahead would be. There was a time when she valued her independence, took pride in it even, but after wedding her cherished fool and experiencing the joys of a happy marriage, she no longer knew what to do with herself in his absence. Mornings were usually their time together, because in those scant few hours before Mila and Lin-Lin were to wake, Yan would have him all to herself, a luxury she feared she would not have for much longer once he collected his final two wives. She didn’t begrudge him for his lascivious ways, but she did so earnestly wish she could spend more time with him each day, though even if the days were twice as long and she his only wife, she would still yearn for more time to spend at his side. To see his smile, hear his voice, smell his scent, and feel his touch, this was all she wanted from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning until she laid her head down to rest at night.
Now, it wasn’t just the matter of his divided attentions keeping her from her husband’s side, for Yan now had to contend with the fact that he might not ever wake at all. Initially, everyone believed he would soon wake once he recovered from overexerting himself in an incredible feat of Healing in Huang Hai, but after twenty days spent without so much as stirring a finger, even Taduk and Lin-Lin were beginning to worry about his chances of recovery. Some mornings, Yan would wake and find him so still and lifeless that she feared he’d passed away in the night, with only the heat of his body and the feel of his breath against her skin to reassure her that she still had a husband yet. This wasn’t the first time he’d fallen comatose and Yan prayed it would not be the last, but no matter how many times she went through this, she knew she would never get used to it. The uncertainty was the worst of it, for after the inexplicable events of that fateful night, Rain only woke briefly to ask Lin-Lin about his father before falling back asleep soon after, a sleep from which Yan feared he would never wake.
According to Akanai and Taduk, they suspected Rain had somehow drawn upon the raw Energy of the Heavens to Heal his father, a feat which apparently overtaxed his still-mortal body, mind, and soul. The Mother demanded too much from him, and worse, he demanded much from himself, for when Yan heard what had transpired, she knew Rain would’ve blamed himself for his father’s injuries, even moreso than the Wraith who wielded the crossbow. A foolish way to go about things, but such was his pride, believing himself so capable that nothing could ever go wrong without it somehow being his fault. Easy to imagine what went through his mind when he saw his father take a poisoned bolt through the heart, but Rain once again managed to create yet another miracle and save his father from certain death.
There was some debate on the topic that the family had yet to really delve into, for it bordered on a subject few cared to contemplate in depth. Baatar was very forthcoming about the experience, detailing the events with such clarity that Yan could envision it happening before her eyes as if she had been there herself. They’d been talking alone, father and son, with the former consoling the latter after all the atrocities they’d witnessed that night, the horrifically posed scene in LuZhuo and the senseless slaughter of Huang Hai a rough opening to a war that many believed would stretch on for many
months, if not years to come. There was no doubt in Yan’s mind that Rain’s judgment had been clouded by anger and hatred, for even after so many years, he had yet to learn not the hate the Enemy. Yan fought because there was fighting to be done, but Rain took the Enemy’s actions too personally, as if they killed simply to spite him rather than because they’d lost themselves to madness.
For this reason alone, Yan feared the worst for her foolish husband, because while others might believe Rain drew upon the power of love to mend his dying father’s wounds, she was not so convinced. There was an equally good chance that it was hatred and despair which drove him to such heights, hatred not just for the Enemy, but also for the Mother Above who dared to try and take Rain’s precious family away.
Which was it then? Did Rain summon the Energies of Creation to mend his father’s heart, or did he draw upon the powers of Destruction to reject death and drag Baatar’s soul back from the Mother’s warm embrace? There were no words for such a miracle, for even the Medical Saint Taduk did not dare claim himself capable of Healing death, and yet Yan’s sweet, sentimental husband might well have done just that.
Miracles aside, having taken four harbours in quick succession meant Rain already accomplished more in a single night than what his detractors claimed was possible, for they saw no way in which the Empire could go on the offensive against the numerically superior Defiled forces. This was because they had yet to understand the true value of Rain’s cannons, the great equalizers as he sometimes called them, and Yan could only agree. Though romanticized by dramas, stories, poems, and ballads, the cold, hard truth of the matter was that war was merely a game of numbers, one in which the winner was almost always the side that killed more combatants than they lost. In the struggle against the Enemy however, each Imperial soldier was worth ten Defiled, or put another way, for every soldier lost, the Imperial army had to kill ten Defiled just to even the odds. Formidable as Peak Experts might be, they were still human yet, and even if the Enemy were willing to line up and present their necks for chopping, swinging a weapon a hundred times through flesh and bone was still a draining and demanding task. Add in the fact that the Enemy was trying to kill you as you tried to kill them, and trading blows in close combat for a single minute could tire you out more than hours of back-breaking labour. It wasn’t just physical fitness that limited a Warrior’s effectiveness on the battlefield, but also their morale and mental fortitude both. This was why the most important skill for a commander was the ability to relieve the pressure on his or her troops, whether it be through clever rotation of Warriors to keep them all relatively fresh, or by stepping up to shoulder the bulk of the pressure to allow allied Warriors more room to breath.
Brigadier Hongji was the first type of commander, while Grandpa was the second, and Yan considered herself a good balance of the two. Juggling troops in combat was no easy feat, but with Sutah around to help share the burden, she did not think it arrogant to claim that she was a capable enough commander who never asked for more than what her soldiers could provide. Then, when things were heating up, she was able to ease the pressure with her Forest Clearing Gale, the skill she recently developed by combining the properties of Grandpa’s Wind Blades with the principles of Mitsue Juichi’s Mountain Collapsing Stomp. This was an attack which summoned a visible twisting gale of wind, one which spit out hundred of finger-length Honed Wind Blades as it hurtled through the Enemy ranks, a single move that could potentially take dozens, if not hundreds of lives, and it marked her as a Warrior to be wary of upon the fields of battle. Most Warriors of note excelled as duellists, formidable opponents such as Kyung, Song, Mila, and Da’in, but Yan was a rare except to this rule, as her strengths lay not in single combat, but in one against many. One Warrior killing dozens, or even hundreds of Defiled was no small feat, even if said Defiled were bottom of the barrel grunts who barely knew which end of the spear to attack with, for there were almost always more Defiled than there were Imperials, yet Yan was a young Talent capable of killing hundreds, perhaps even thousands over the course of a single battle, provided she had Chi and time to recover. While she would die in an instant if caught out on the battlefield by a foe of their calibre, none of the aforementioned talents could match Yan in terms of sheer volume of kills, and in most battles, this was a statistic which mattered more than anything else.
The cold hard truth of the matter was that there were few other Warriors able to match Yan when it came to wholesale slaughter, and even fewer Demons and Defiled. Such was the way of the Martial Dao, one which emphasized personal strength rather than widespread destructive capability, and in some ways, one could say Yan had set forth upon a dead-end track. The Forest Clearing Gale was a formidable attack, but who was to say it would improve in time? As a young Talent not yet twenty five, her accomplishments were impressive to say the least, but could the same be said three or four decades from now?Killing chaff was hard and necessary work, but she could not focus too much on this one aspect of her Martial Path, for such focus would come at the expense of other vital areas. The last thing she wanted was to become anarrow specialist, a Warrior who could do one thing very well and fell short in all others. Not the worst fate to suffer, but as Du Min Gyu’s Terminal Disciple, Yan had a mountain of expectations heaped onto her shoulders, the heaviest of which belonged to herself.
Yet for all this talk of her formidable talents, Rain’s Runic Cannons now enabledany random Peak Expert to match Yan’s level of carnage with only a bare modicum of instruction. Place the cannonball into the dragon’s mouth,point it at your target, insert Chi, and watch the Defiled die in droves. A four step process to match what Yan achievedthrough countless hours of blood, sweat, and tears, as well as no small amount of luck and guidance. Asif that wasn’t enough, the Runic Cannons even used less Chi to accomplish more damage, so long as you picked clumped targets to aim at and didn’t waste any shots killing one or two stragglers at a time. Infuriating wasn’t nearly enough to describe it, though Yan consoled herself with the fact that at leastshe didn’t have to lug around a weighty metal tube and a sack of equally cumbersome ammunition. With eight cannons alternating fire on the battlefield, massed armies had become something of a liability, which hurt the Enemy far more than it affected the Warriors of the Empire. The Uniter didn’t even dare to meet Rain’s forces in the field, instead running with his tail between his legs while adopting hit and run methods, ones which the Imperials ironically had used against the Defiled prior to the reveal of the destructive Runic Cannons. A Peak Expert with a Cannon was worth thousands of Defiled Warriors, and once his or her Chi was spent, all they needed to do was hand the Cannon over to another fresh expert so they could begin the slaughter anew.
The face of war was ever- changing now that Rain was firmly in control, and Yan found it all so very exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Exhilarating because her beloved husband had brought this change about, and more to the point, had even anticipated and expected as much, but terrifying because now they no longer had his unique perspective to draw from, and Yan was not sure what would come next.
Kneeling at the head of his cot, she ran her fingers through his hand and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand, marvelling at the soft and supple sensation of his unblemished skin against hers. It took an effort of will to fight the urge to strip down and crawl into bed with him, but even Lin-Lin and Mila had accepted sleeping apart from him for fear of causing complications to his health, fast asleep in the separate cots laid out right next to Rain’s, consigning Yan to sleep all by her lonesome without their husband at her side. She didn’t hold it against them, as they’d offered to take turns, but Yan refused because the simple truth was that she was better suited to sleeping alone than either of her sister wives. Lin-Lin was all but inconsolable without Rain to cheer her up, always glued to his side with her wide eyed stare whether awake or asleep, and Mila herself fared only a little better. They were even less equipped to deal with this strife than Yan herself, and she loved them both as much as she loved Rain himself, so she stayed strong and contented herself with these quiet morning moments so that they would suffer just that much less.
The three of them presented a sweet and sentimental image, laid out alongside one another in so chaste a fashion, each confined to their own cots save for a single hand each from Lin-Lin and Mila that reached over to lightly touch Rain’s. As pure and chaste as it all might seem, Yan knew there was good reason for their restraint, because while lying still for so many days on end might seem harmless, the human body was not meant to lie fallow for so long. If Mila or Lin-Lin were to fall asleep pressed up against him, there was a chance their weight might well cut off circulation to Rain’s arms or legs and cause his fingers and toes to rot whilst still attached, though Yan already visually confirmed this was not the case today. This was a ritual every morning now, for she wasn’t running her fingers through his hair simply because she enjoyed how it felt, but also because she was checking for sores which might have formed overnight. His flawless skin showed that his Core was still firmly intact, a matter of only minor concern considering his overshadowed accomplishment in reforging all three of his Spiritual Weapons which were damaged during that fateful night, and soon enough, Yan finished confirming that her husband was still in good health, save for the minor fact that he just refused to wake.
“How much longer do you need to sleep, dear husband of mine?” Yan Sent, jokingly using the same tone Jing Fei used when speaking to her husband Zian. Rain loved the man like a brother, but he’d never gotten over his fear and concern for Jing Fei, even though it was clear to anyone with eyes that she loved her husband with all her heart. “Your beloved wives are growing lonely without you to keep them company.”
The lack of an answer caused her more pain than she would ever care to admit, his silence a damning testimony to his continued absence. Anger flared as her resentment bubbled to the surface, bitter that he would do this to her so many times and cause her so much heartache. For a brief moment, she wondered if life would be easier if she just walked away, left him to Lin-Lin and Mila both and resumed the life of freedom and adventure in Central she gave up to marry him, a thought so ridiculous she could only scoff.
The poisoned whispers of their insidious foe, aiming to drown her in despair? Or merely a flight of fancy in a moment of weakness, an idle thought she would never follow through on? Regardless of the source of her inner turmoil, the solution was the same, to embrace the pain and hope for the best because the first was proof of her love for him, and the second her only path forward through the dark times ahead.
A burst of warm and loving Aura enveloped Yan’s entire being, and for a brief, beautiful moment, she thought Rain had finally awakened again, but then she spotted Pong Pong’s yellow-patterned green shell emerge from his den under Rain’s pillow. Letting loose with an adorably tiny squeak, the Divine Turtle slowly blinked as he trundled over to nuzzle her fingers resting atop Rain’s head, his Aura continuing to emanate fond reassurances that even Taduk could not make. Stirring at the sound of her little friend, Ping Ping blinked sleepily from her place beside Rain’s head, having taken over an entire pillow for herself so she could rest her head against his cheek while they slept. Wiggling her hindquarters and shaking her tail, she joined Pong Pong in nuzzling her hand in hopes of eliciting a scritch or two, and Yan could only acquiesce to her sweet demands.
Oddly enough, neither turtle seemed all too concerned with Rain’s comatose state, as if such a thing was only to be expected from time to time. Part of her hoped it was because they knew something she didn’t, but the more pragmatic part of Yan’s mind knew it was more likely because turtles like Ping Ping tended to hibernate through the cold months of winter, and she assumed it was the same for Pong Pong. No doubt they both believed this was the case with Rain, seemingly confused as to why everyone else was so concerned for his health, but Yan still appreciated their efforts.
“Morning you two,” she whispered, stroking Pong Pong’s head with her thumb the same way she’d seen Rain do a thousand times, and the little turtle leaned into the gesture with a sense of joy and contentment that Yan envied wholeheartedly. Unable to contain her emotions any longer, her shoulders shook as she silently sobbed for no reason other than to express her sorrow and be rid of this burden, praying the turtles’ confidence stemmed from something real, like their visits to Rain’s Natal Palace rather than the misconception she believed it to be. Alas, hope and faith were difficult to come by these days. The Enemy was willing to go to such great lengths to deny the Empire a victory, and she knew that this was a tactic that was most effective against Rain, for he was a kind and caring man who could not bring himself to understand the Enemy’s lacking humanity. That’s why their actions enraged him so, because unlike most, he did not see the Defiled as irredeemable monsters. No, he believed that there was still a shred of humanity buried deep within each and every single one of them, for he had experienced Defilement for himself and, despite all his talk of hatred and slaughter, yearned to save the Defiled from themselves.
Which only made their complicity in their crimes that much worse. Easier to believe them evil monsters than to see them for their true selves, simple men and women who’d succumbed to the darkness inherent to the hearts of humankind. Oh her sweet, simple, fool of a husband, whose heart ached for all the people of the world and even empathized with the Enemy who hated him so fiercely, a stance she did not dare even entertain for fear of losing her will to fight.
A weighty presence pressed itself into Yan’s belly and she almost yelped in surprise until she remembered where she was. Looking down through tear-filled eyes, she found sweet Aurie peering up at her in innocent concern, his sad, mournful expression conveying almost as much as Pong Pong’s Aura. The wildcat was sad not just because she was crying, but also because he’d been consigned to his new place sleeping under Rain’s cot rather than sprawled out over his legs as the sweet cat preferred. A gross injustice as far as he was concerned, and he came out to commiserate over shared hardships, as if the pampered wildcat knew what true hardship really was. It was so adorably ridiculous Yan could not help but giggle, which Aurie took as a sign to sit up and nuzzle her cheek, his chest rumbling in delight as she hugged him close. Having had his fill of nuzzles, he turned his attention to Rain, and under her watchful eyes, the wildcat laid his chin down atop Rain’s chest and closed his eyes in muted delight, taking a short second to bask in his favourite person’s presence before heading over to the door to wait to be let out.
This sort of greeting was a new behaviour, something many of the animals had picked up of late, to share a quiet moment with Rain each and every day. Though Yan had not seen it for herself, Mama Bun did something similar after she woke, placing her nose right up against Rain’s to stare into his eyes for long seconds just like she did the last time he was comatose. It always ended the same way, with the sweet, spoiled rabbit giving a disgruntled huff and reluctant kiss as if to say she was displeased by his lack of reaction but still loved him all the same. The bears were even less delicate about it, using their chins to smother Rain’s face, but they always came away gurgling in contentment as if having had played some great joke. Much like the turtles, none of the animals seemed all too concerned about Rain’s comatose state, which was a far cry from how they behaved the last time he fell unconscious and unresponsive, with gloom and frustration aplenty. Yet another sign that perhaps matters were not as dire as they seemed, but even this was not enough to ease Yan’s groundless and irrational apprehensions. They were still animals after all, and Pong Pong aside, hardly the most clever examples of their breeds, though Yan loved them all the same.
The important takeaway from all this was that Ping Ping, Pong Pong, and Mama Bun were all still unable to visit Rain’s Natal Palace, as evidenced by Mama Bun’s reaction every morning and her continued insistence on sleeping at Rain’s side, snuggled up atop his chest and snoring fitfully away in her sleep. Were she able to visit, she would not be so disgruntled and disappointed each morning, and would instead remain curled up in his embrace until it came time for lunch. Or at least that’s what Lin-Lin believed, and Yan had nothing on hand to refute her, as both turtles didn’t seem all too bothered by Rain’s current predicament and carried on about their days as if nothing had changed. This meant there was nothing to do except wait and hope for the best, which was easier said than done, for Yan missed him dearly and yearned to see him smile again.
Another warm burst of Aura emanated from little Pong Pong, one so genuine and heartfelt Yan wondered if the Divine turtle could read her emotions the same way she read Aurie’s. It was difficult to tell how much Pong Pong actually understood, for there were moments like this when he seemed so aware and sagacious, and other times when he behaved no differently from any other animal, such as when it came time to eat. Hopping onto Yan’s proffered hand, he accepted a lift over to the still sleeping Rakshasa even though he could have made the journey across the yurt in a single bound. Lazy as ever, the massive tiger slowly came to his feet and Yan fought the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him, a beautiful and majestic creature who inspired awe even when stretching and yawning. Grumbling as if gravely aggrieved, he lowered his head for a pat which Yan dared not refuse him, rubbing his ears good and well until he was wholly satisfied and chuffing in glee. Meanwhile, Pong Pong had gotten himself well and situated in between Rakshasa’s ears, nestled so deeply in the tiger’s fur he could stop Concealing and no one would be the wiser.
Opening the door to let Aurie, Rakshasa, and the rabbits all out, Yan allowed herself one more glance at her sleeping husband before finally getting on about her business. Stood outside ready and waiting was none other than Kyung, and though his stony expression gave nothing away, Yan knew he saw more than he let on. Even without accounting for his phenomenal hearing, he only needed one look at her puffy, reddened eyes to know she’d been crying, and his arm twitched ever so slightly as he considered offering her a hug, only to immediately quash the notion. The fact that he even contemplated a show of affection meant the world to her however, because her adopted brother was not a man used to showing any emotion whatsoever, not even anger or happiness. A coping mechanism turned ingrained habit, but Yan was slowly working with Grandpa to chip away at Kyung’s defences.
Even though he didn’t take the initiative to hug her, she still appreciated the sentiment, as well as the reminder that he only resembled a giant stone pillar on the surface, tall, cold, and unyielding. “Thanks, big brother,” she said, and the tension eased ever so slightly from his shoulders as he took in her smile, relieved that she was not about to burst into tears once agin. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine.” Just as soon as Rain was awake again. Until then, she would fret and endure, because there was nothing else she could do. “How’s Grandpa?”
“Doing well.” Glancing in the direction of his yurt, Kyung’s lips turned upwards ever so slightly in the barest hint of a smile. “Meditating on the Dao and new notes he received last night. It has been a long time since I’ve seen him so lively.”
“That’s good to hear.” Grandpa was a man who thrived on warfare, one who never stopped dreaming of his triumphant return to the battlefield, and now that he’d succeeded, he’d become a man changed. His obsession with the Dao was both frightening and inspiring to behold, especially these last few weeks in the wake of the Central Citadel siege, weeks he spent ruminating in secret over what he called, ‘a fool’s errand’, one set upon him by Rain, but he would not say what until he knew how to explain the concept without confusing her to no end. All Yan knew was that it had something to do with his Blessing of Air and the way he sometimes gathered wind into the palm of his hand to make a strange popping sound, after which he’d mutter to himself about control and pressure before starting all over again. As for the notes, Kyung meant Brigadier Hongji’s personal Insights into the Dao, but Yan wasn’t allowed to read them, or Akanai’s, Baatar’s, or anyone elses. ‘Walk before you run’ was the general sentiment regarding the matter, and while Rain had been more than happy to share his notes with her, Grandpa made him promise not to, and Yan’s husband was a man of his word.
Feeling the need to let off some steam after breakfast, she set off towards the training grounds and asked, “Feeling up for a spar?” After a second passed without answer, Yan turned back to Kyung with a single raised eyebrow, only to find him staring at his feet in what could only be described as shy embarassment. “Ah. She’s there, is she?” She meaning Da’in, who Kyung was head over heels in love with, yet had been too stubborn and unyielding to give into his passions before Aunty Jeong became aware of her eldest daughter’s amorous intentions. Perhaps things would’ve turned out differently if Kyung struck while the iron was hot, but not all men were as insatiable as Rain, a fact Yan had only recently discovered. Forget about once every night, it turned out most couples only made love two or three times a week, and even less for those who’d been married for years. In contrast, ever since his wedding and honeymoon with Lin-Lin, Rain spent each and every single night with all three of his wives and woke up hungry for more the next morning, with no sign of slowing down just yet.
Not that Yan was complaining of course, for she enjoyed their bedroom games almost as much as he did, and the same could be said of Mila and Lin-Lin. What’s more, Yan was eager to see what sort of expressions Luo-Luo and Li-Li would make once Rain sank his teeth into the both of them. Two beautiful women, one elegant and dignified, the other cold and aloof, it would be oh so fascinating to watch Rain peel back their facades to reveal the form of their animistic passions hidden underneath. Before marrying him, Yan would’ve never in her life imagined Mila could be so docile and submissive or Lin-Lin so primal and voracious, so it would be interesting to see if Li-Li and Luo-Luo would similarly exceed expectations.
Putting aside her grievances at having her own needs go unmet, Yan focused on her brother’s happiness instead. A tricky thing, stealing away a bride from the Ryo family household, and truth be told, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea after Aunty Jeong sided with Shuai Jiao over Rain. Not because Yan held a grudge, but because she was still unsure why the kind and level-headed woman would do such a thing, for she was a staunch proponent of loyalty and integrity. Her husband and children were a domineering bunch, but they never took advantage of the helpless and stuck to their righteous principles no matter the cost. Partially because Shuai Jiao set the standard of the honest and virtuous politician, but also because the Ryo’s were generally good people who loved their province and country dearly.
So why did Aunty Jeong choose Shuai Jiao over Rain after he did so much to help them without asking? There had to be a good reason for her defection, and until Yan knew why, she felt it better to keep the Ryo’s at arm’s length. They were all here in Meng Sha, the prime representatives of Central’s contribution to retaking the West, but a polite nod in passing was about all the interaction she had with them. As for Kyung, it seemed like he’d settled on avoiding Da’in at all costs, because despite being able to stare death in the eyes without flinching, the thought of confessing his feelings for Da’in had left him unmanned.
Oh they would make such an adorable couple, Da’in and Kyung both, bold and imperious Warriors yet unable to sit down and have a genuine conversation about their own feelings. Theirs would be a union fraught with frustration and misunderstanding, but so long as they hand love enough, then nothing else mattered.
Alas, Kyung was not yet ready to face Da’in, and Yan was loathe to force him. “Alright,” she conceded, and it was amusing to watch him deflate with relief. “We’ll spar this afternoon instead. Care to accompany me on a surprise inspection then? I’ve been through the camp enough times to correct most of my soldiers, but I could use a second set of eyes to maybe catch what I’ve missed.”
Truth be told, Kyung knew all the ins and outs of military command, and only lacked the ambition to strike out on his own. Combined with his stubborn refusal to shatter his Core and be freed of his Oaths until after the war was over and done with, Kyung seemed adamant to remain an obscure guard and hidden Expert, despite having the Martial skill and tactical acumen to become a Colonel at the very least, if not a Brigadier to match the man he’d trained alongside and rivalled, the departed Cho Jin Kai.
With Kyung, Aurie, Rakshasa, and both Divine Turtles in tow, Yan set out for her retinue’s barracks, where she technically should have stayed overnight considering she was their immediate commanding officer, but Sutah had the kids well in hand and knew what to do if the Defiled attacked unexpectedly. He pretty much ran the retinue single-handedly these days, with Yan being little more than a figurehead, which suited her fine since she still commanded when battle was truly at hand. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for commanders to have someone handle the day to day drudgery of the rank, as even Nian Zu didn’t personally supervise his Famed Fifty, much less the Warriors of his personal retinue. Few were as involved and hand’s on as Akanai, which only made Yan admire her childhood hero turned Mother-in-Law all the more.
Halfway through her inspection however, Grandpa arrived in a flurry of Cloud-Steps to bring her away. “Come, come,” he said, so lively and excited as he grabbed her hand and led her back out of camp. “There’s something I want you to read. Ask no questions, for I will not answer, as anything I say could colour your perception and lead to false Insight.”
Going along with the flow, Yan followed him back to his yurt where the rabbits and bears had moved outside to laze in the morning sun under Li-Li’s supervision. Bounding over to join his siblings, Aurie returned soon after to fetch Rakshasa to join in on their games, and the regal tiger begrudgingly went along. They were so vastly different in size, with Aurie’s shoulder barely sitting higher than her waist while standing on all fours, while Rakshasa shoulder was almost higher than Yan’s head, but a cat was a cat no matter the size, and these ones got along uncharacteristically well.
“In, in, in,” Grandpa urged, so impatient he didn’t even glance at Kishi as she ran over to join in on the fun, chittering and squeaking all the while. Once they were through the door, he shut it closed behind him as Kyung replaced the near finished candle with a fresh one. There was no book, scroll, or paper on the table for Yan to read, but before she could even ask, Grandpa reached into his sleeves and pulled out a folded note which he handed over in haste. “Here, read this, but try not to read into the brushstrokes. No, wait. Yan, cover your eyes. Kyung, prepare ink and paper to transcribe this note for Yan. I want her to see this with fresh eyes and consider only the message itself.”
Even this much wasn’t enough as Grandpa insisted on leaving with Kyung before allowing Yan to read whatever it was he wanted her to see, so as to ensure his expression would give nothing away. Since he was going to such great lengths, Yan reined in her mirth and took this seriously as it showed just how much he cared about her success, always worrying Rain or someone else would unduly interfere and lead her down a dead-end path. Taking a deep breath to calm her mind, she reached for Balance and sought still serenity before finally turning her attention to the letter in hand, and was almost immediately disappointed. All this fuss for an auto-biography, which was hardly what she expected. The Imperial Army put great stock into these sorts of things, believing that the anecdotal scribblings of a Martial Warrior could help guide the next generation along their Martial Path, but even after reading more than her fair share of these dull and dusty ramblings, she had yet to find anything of use within. Most Martial Warriors willing to share these personal histories with the Imperial Army were trained by the army to begin with, so reading the experiences of one was almost no different from any others. Still, Yan had faith in Grandpa and knew he would never lead her wrong, so she settled in and read the snippet he so painstakingly provided for her.
“All my life,” the unnamed narrator began, the most unpretentious opening Yan had ever read, “I have never had a place to truly call home. My childhood household was warm and full of love, with happy memories aplenty, but even then, I knew the shack we lived in and the fields we tended were never truly ours. Instead, they belonged to a noble who allowed us the privilege to work his fields in exchange for a set price, one to be paid in crops or coin. Thus, every season of every year, my parents wore themselves haggard with stress and anxiety wondering if their harvest would be enough to cover the rent and still leave enough for the family to eat. Back then, my grand ambition was to one day move away with my family to farm on our own land, so that we could all be free from the stress and worry of unpaid rent or possible eviction.”
A humble beginning, but Yan could hardly see why Grandpa was so adamant she read this. Stifling a sigh, she held fast to Balance and continued on. “When I was fifteen, army recruiters stopped in our village speak with the youths, promising fame and fortune to anyone in possession of a Core and signed on as a soldier. Against my parents wishes, I snuck out to meet with the recruiters and hear what they had to say, which was little more than a basic explanation of how to meditate and open ourselves up to the Heavens. By some miracle of the Mother Above, I successfully took my first step along the Martial Path six months later, Creating my Core and setting off to join the army after uttering promises to my weeping mother and stoic father that I would soon return with coin enough to buy the farm for them.”
“Little did I know an entire decade would pass before I saw them again, for I had only just set out on my Path. Basic training only lasted a mere six weeks, but to my younger self, each day felt like a week as the sergeants broke me down and built me back up in the image they so desired. The training camp barracks was little more than a tent full of single cots, and far from a welcoming environment at that, as leaving anything out of place was grounds for a public dressing down as the sergeants pointed out your mistakes for all to see. Imagine my relief when training finally came to an end and they announced I was a solider in truth, but rather than being dismissed from camp to return home for a visit, I was immediately dispatched to serve at my first post, a sea-side shanty town plagued by marauding pirates.”
Unable to remain patient any longer, Yan began skimming through the text as the narrator briefly detailed no less than thirty-two different postings which brought him all across Central in the next seven years, which was atypical to what Yan expected since most postings lasted for half a year at the minimum. Apparently, the narrator’s commanding officer had enemies in low places, for that was the only way to explain why their unit was dispatched to so many different postings without any real emergency taking place. There were minor clashes aplenty, but few consequential victories to be had, if any at all, and the narrator’s bland and unvarnished depiction of events set the scene for just how disheartening it must have been to do so much and have so little to show for it.
“At twenty two years of age, I was considered an experienced soldier of seven years, yet not even halfway through my first term of service. I had come to expect my entire career to play out just like this, and I worried that by the time I returned home with the coin I promised my parents, they would not recognize their son, or worse, no longer be there to receive me. I was an only child to aging parents who worked themselves to the bone each and every day of the year, and now I’d left them with no one to care for them. There were services to help soldiers like me bring coin back to their village, but even without the warnings of my older comrades in arms, my naive, younger self could still see how predatory those companies were. All I could do was let the army keep my pay save for what little I spent on myself, experiencing the vicissitudes of life through the narrow lenses of a soldier constantly on the march. I went where they directed me, ate what they placed in front of me, wore what they provided me, and slept wherever I could lay my head down to rest. The first wine I tasted was distilled in the back of an army wagon. The first woman I lay with was a camp follower prostitute almost twice my age. My first shave was done using a sword as my razor and polished spear as mirror. My first loss was that of a brother I’d met in basic training, a fellow farm-boy who died weeping in my arms as his life’s blood spilled out from the gaping hole in his chest.
A jarring rendition of events, and Yan cursed herself for skipping ahead and missing out on the gravity of it all, but she was too eager to find out what came next to go back just yet. “Then, my Captain fell on the field of battle, and his second followed soon after. So too did the next three soldiers who stood up to take charge, and only then did I realize I was the most senior member of the retinue still left standing. I remember little of what I said or did during that fateful battle, only that I fought and killed until there were no enemies left standing before me. For my ‘valiant efforts in the face of adversity’, I was promoted to the rank of Captain and given command of the tattered remnants of my former Captain’s retinue. Three days later, a batch of fresh recruits were dispatched to bring us back to full strength, alongside a tutor tasked with teaching me to read and orders to head out towards the next conflict. Such was the start of my long and arduous career, one in which I, a naive young farmboy accepted every mission he was presented because he didn’t know any better.”
Yan wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at seeing how similar this man was to Rain, who himself went though a similar phase while fighting on the front lines in Sinuji. Liking the narrator more and more, she continued to devour the tale which was so different from BoShui’s flowery prose, a bland and matter-of-fact account that said much with only a few words. There was so much left untold, yet there was still enough for her to fill in the details, and the next two years of the narrator’s life went by in a flash, an entire decade summed up in the span of a few paragraphs.
“From rank recruit to Captain was a journey of seven years, but little more than a year later, I was made Senior Captain after my commander took note of my record of service. Soon after my promotion, my commander took me aside and suggested I take some time off to tackle the next step along the Martial Path. He told me then that twenty five years of age was the demarcating line between snake and dragon, so while I had the markings of the former, everyone would think me the latter if I was unable to successfully Form my Natal Palace before year’s end.”
So this was the reason Grandpa was so excited for Yan to read this, and she took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. “I accepted the proffered reading material and began the long journey home, yet when I arrived there almost three weeks later, I was no closer to success than when I began. My long awaited reunion with my parents took precedence then, a memory I cherish to this day, for any rank, medal, or commendation was utterly worthless when placed next to the smiles of my aged parents, and this more than anything gave me renewed focus to continue along my Path. The noble who owned their farm refused to sell the land to a mere Senior Captain, and instead, I was forced to use most of my savings to pay the steep penalty for the contract my parents entered into before I was even born, one that treated them like slaves to be bought and sold like chattel. For the first time in my life, I truly hungered for advancement, both in my career and along the Martial Path, for only then could I protect that which I held dear.”
Or in other words, might makes right, a universally accepted fact, but somehow, Yan could tell that the narrator no longer saw things the same way.
“The advice gleaned from military documents suggested I base my Natal Palace on a place of significance in reality, but I’d spent the last ten years drifting from conflict to conflict and was currently living out of the back of a wagon while searching for a home for my parents to live in. What place of significance did I have to hold onto? None whatsoever, for the trials and tribulations had made me strong, but they failed to instill me with the confidence and courage both to push forward without someone to direct me. Seeing my troubles, my father sat me down like in days of old, so small and frail now that I possessed a Martial Warrior’s physique, but in my eyes, he’d never been stronger than on that day. He smiled, patted my hand, and told me that it didn’t matter if they lived in ruin or opulence, so long as I lived my life with head held high. Then he told me that he’d found work on another farm, that he wanted to go back to toiling day and night to enrich not just some noble landowner, but another farmer as well, an extra middleman to pay before he and mother received their fair share. Though he didn’t say it in so many words, I could tell he was afraid that my humble background would hold me back, that my filial efforts would distract me from the Martial Path and promising prospects before me, so he bade me farewell and brought my mother away to subsist in worse conditions than I left them.”
“I spent the rest of the night in quiet meditation, parsing through the complex emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I had no constant in life to lean back on, none save for the love and support of my parents who now believed I would be better off without them. Logically, I understood the decision, but I could not bring myself to agree with it, but he was my father and his logic sound, so how could I chase him down and deny him without first offering an alternative solution? It was clear I was out of my depth, lacking in both coin and good sense, so how could I be expected to support my parents when I barely knew what to do with myself?”
“Come morning, the sun rose and the morning dew dried, but still I was undecided on what to do next, so in a bid to find escape from my troubles, I sought Balance and Insight into the Dao. I had no set goal in life, similar to how I’d lived my entire life thus far, only a yearning to be better today than the man I was yesterday, the man who let his parents walk away for fear of being burdened by them. Without a place of significance to base my Natal Palace upon, I could only look inwards into myself, and there I found my answer. So long as I drew breath, I could rely on myself to strive and struggle for the life I desired, one in which I chased after my father and told him that he was no burden, but the guiding light in my life which I failed to heed often enough. Why must a Natal Palace be based on a place of significance? Chi is formless, so why must the Natal Palace be envisioned and remain fixed in mind? So long as I existed, so too would my Natal Palace, and thus, I made myself the anchor for this significant milestone along the Martial Path. When I opened my eyes, I knew I had succeeded, and only then did I have the courage to chase after my parents and bring them away to a better life.”
That was the abrupt conclusion to what Kyung copied for her, and for a moment, she wondered if he’d left a page out, but there was no chance that was the case. That last sentence was a jumble of words which she individually understood, but made no sense when put in that order, and she read it several more times to try and understand his meaning. Did he envision himself, like the Natal Soul Rain spoke of? No, he asked why it must be envisioned, so it had to be something more... abstract. He made himself the anchor, so that as long as he existed, so too did his Natal Palace. There was no mention of formation, no moment of realization, only a statement of existence, as if his Natal Palace had been there all along.
There were some scant similarities in this account to what Yan experienced herself, but too many differences to account for. She herself lacked a stable and beloved place to reference, her bitter animosity over never being adopted clashing with her inner turmoil over leaving her home of almost twenty years. Central didn’t offer her a warm welcome either, not after Grandpa declared her as his Terminal Disciple and adopted granddaughter without thinking things through, a touching gesture she loved him for yet still logically disagreed with. Then there was the matter of the narrator feeling as if he could onlyrely on himself, for Yan had many people who helped her along the way. Not just Grandpa and Rain, but Mila, Lin-Lin, Kyung, Eun, Da’in, Wu Gam, Tomor, Mugi, Altan, Akanai, Tursinai, and so many more.
No, she was too focused on the specifics, on the differences, on convincing herself that this wouldn’t work. Instead, she should set her mind to trying to understand what Grandpa Du wanted her to read. It wasn’t any specific detail in the narrative, else he would not have given her so much to digest. The question to ask was not howthe narrator Formed his Natal Palace, but rather what could Yan glean from this man’s experiences to help her along her Path. It was the method he used that was the key here, the basis upon which he built his Natal Palace, not a place in reality like Rain and the village or Mila and the bamboo grove, but... what? Himself? No, but rather the concept of self-reliance. So long as he existed, so too did his Natal Palace, that was what he said, and it was this which gave him the strength and conviction to progress forward along his Path.
So if not a place, what was a concept Yan could use as an anchor to her Natal Palace?
The answer delivered itself to her the moment she stepped outside the stuffy yurt, a cool and refreshing breeze that wicked away the smell of herbal incense and candle wax. Though she possessed the Blessing of Air as Grandpa was always quick to point out, it was the wind which Yan held near and dear to her heart. Air was stagnant and stifling, but the wind was a gust of gentle freedom and a gale of overbearing dominance in one, a representation of her ability to do as she pleased. It was the wind which spoke to her, not the air itself, but the movement of air that set her skin to tingling and mind at ease. With the wind at her back, she could go anywhere and do anything, but only because she knew she had people ready to catch her if she should fall.
People like Grandpa and Kyung, who were stood outside and doing their best not to appear too hopeful so that she wouldn’t feel ashamed if she failed to glean anything from the readings. People like her sister-wives Mila and Lin-Lin who were likely finally getting out of bed and no doubt wondering if she would come back to join them for lunch. People like her in-laws Baatar and Sarnai, who both only had glowing praises for them all, or Alsantset and Charok who were always there to answer any questions she might have regarding her husband and married life.
And of course, there was Rain himself, the one personwho not only supported her decision, but also encouraged her to follow through with it in a time when she needed it most. Back then, even though she was excited to have been chosen by an esteemed Hero of the Empire, she’d also been terrified of leaving everyone and everything she knew behind. To her, the wind was freedom, but she would never have had the courage to take so great a leap without Rain’s love and support, and she would not have made it this far without Grandpa, Eun, Kyung, and so many others. The wind was her reminder, her anchor and object of significance, one that was invisible and formless like Chi, but every bit as real as she.
“I’m not sure,” she began, cocking her head in uncertain certainty, “But I think I just Developed my Natal Palace.”
Hardly the most confident of statements, but seeing Grandpa and Kyung’s smile, Yan knew it to be true, for this was a moment she would remember for all eternity, so long as the wind still blew.
Comments
Nigel Franklin
I enjoyed this chapter.
Gjim
The fuzzy feels
Gardor
Please give yourself a limit for the number of POVs before Rain wakes up, like ten total with soft, iterative time skips, so that we're not stuck in Rain coma limbo again. And also, just to reiterate, make sure each chapter has a purpose in the context of the greater story, please. Great chapter!
Zarik0
Long is not a problem ;P Beautifull chapter, i get a puff of emotion in the Yan part when she think and read the story I want Grandpa to say something like "ah i cant believe it worked this fool of Rain is right, we can do it" ;P
Arnon Parenti
The wind is in all places, maybe this means she can make and break whole mountains like Mila's sun Palace
Allastin
Lol, it’s sort of a Rain-like statement that she just made
Thenais
thx for the chapter !
Diplodicus
Thanks for the chapter Ruff! Interesting read, does this mean Yan can't visit her Natal palace because it isn't a place?
