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Chapter 648
🕑 Added 2020-11-02 02:57:17 +0000 UTChttps://docs.google.com/document/d/1HatgRWjr42Med-pohxHtiCw_UgB9gngwYVyIsaQ8N1Y/edit?usp=sharing
The earth shook and skies howled as the gathering storm rumbled overhead, but even this was not enough to drown out the din of battle as heroes of the Empire clashed against Demons and Defiled.
This was a day that would be long remembered in history, and one Chen Hongji would never forget, but also one he hoped would soon end. Gongsun Qi had pressed him from all fronts and pushed him to his utmost limits, but had the Prince of Barbarity been in command of an Imperial Army, then Hongji would surely have lost. Even with the advantage of Imperial discipline and massed ranged weapons, the traitor general almost won through sheer ingenuity and adaptability. Hongji’s left flank was in tatters, his right on the verge of being overrun, the Irregulars had been routed, and the Legate himself was almost killed by a cadre of Demons and Chosen who broke through the front lines. Were it not for the Royal Guardians, skirmishing Bekhai, and staunch Death Corps soldiers holding firm, then his army would have broken long before reinforcements arrived.
And even then, with twice as many Imperial troops here on the field, the Enemy still held the advantage of numbers, which meant there was still bloody work to be done. The stubborn Defiled were as spirited and bloodthirsty as always, and though the cavalry appeared to be in full retreat, Hongji’s intuition told him Gongsun Qi still had moves to make. Haste makes waste, so when Hongji was given overall battlefield command, he kept to the basics and cycled his tired soldiers out for fresh, reinforcing ones. A show of respect from the three reinforcing Colonel Generals, allowing Hongji to finish what he started, but truth be told, he would much rather foist this difficult task onto someone higher ranked. A near victory meant his soldiers would be more cautious and reluctant to risk their lives, for they’d fought hard to survive this long, while the reinforcing soldiers would be over-eager for glory. This disparity meant keeping a close eye on his Officers to ensure they didn’t step out of line, whether it be to rest easy on their laurels or go chasing after glory, when he would much rather lay down in the dirt for a nap.
From early morning preparations to the current late afternoon scramble, he’d not had a moment of rest, his mind and body completely spent. So tired, he couldn’t even appreciate the astonishing duel between Mitsue Juichi and Gongsun Qi, the primary contributors to said earth-shaking commotions. They arrived like clockwork, a resounding explosion of steel and earth as the Obsidian Shadow repeatedly struck at his foe from Concealment. Impressive as the display might be, more impressive was how Gongsun Qi repeatedly accepted Mitsue Juichi’s attacks head-on, blocking with the shaft of his Green Dragon Crescent Blade and somehow diffusing the force from the Mountain Collapsing Stomp to the ground around him while leaving a small area beneath his feet untouched. Despite knowing he’d turned against the Empire, it was difficult not to admire him as he stood a man alone on an empty, broken field with weapon at the ready, a bold and brash figure in his black and gold brigantine armour with a pearly-white grin for all to see. Though his army was teetering on the brink of disastrous defeat and his life in grave peril, the Defiled General was thoroughly enjoying himself and seemingly still confident in his chances of victory, both in this duel and the overall conflict itself.
A Heroic figure standing at the Peak of Martial might. Such a shame he turned against the Empire.
With good reason, for the Empire left him no choice.
A chill ran down Hongji’s spine as he did his best to focus on the battle at hand, but there wasn’t much to focus on. On the surface, it seemed like Gongsun Qi lacked the time or inclination to give detailed orders as his battle-lines fell into disarray, but one could hardly fault him since he was locked in a deadly duel with the Obsidian Shadow. Mitsue Juichi did not make his name by fighting in duels, but by crushing his foes with overwhelming force in a single blow, usually from Concealment. This was not to say he was a poor duellist, as he’d been forced to demand trial by combat many a time in his early years while establishing his family dynasty, but few cared to press him once he mastered the Mountain Collapsing Stomp and could demolish an entire stage with a single strike. Difficult to avoid an attack with the ground crumbling beneath your feet, assuming you even survived. What’s more, his twin mace style was dazzling to behold, on those few occasions he’d been forced to use it, but Gongsun Qi had yet to do anything besides stand in place and defend against the Mountain Collapsing Stomp. No doubt planning to wear his opponent down, Hongji feared the Enemy commander planned to win the battle in the same manner, which was why he set his reinforcements to replacing his tired soldiers instead of using them to surround and collapse on the Defiled. They didn’t break like regular Imperials would, so spreading his soldiers out would only give Gongsun Qi a chance to divide and conquer Hongji’s forces. Better to take things slow and safe than rush into disaster, which left him plenty of time to ponder and deliberate on the circumstances which led up to this bloody, near ruinous battle.
His meeting with Gongsun Qi was still fresh in his mind, and as nonsensical as some of the Defiled general’s statements had been, he could not help but sympathize with the westerners’ plight. How would he have felt if the Defiled broke into Central and the Imperial Clan closed off all its borders? Betrayed. Discarded. Forsaken. In light of this, one could hardly fault Gongsun Qi for embracing the Father’s lies, because mortals were still socially minded creatures, and to lose the support of one’s society was a devastating blow, no matter the individual. There was no doubt in Hongji’s mind that Gongsun Qi had committed all manner of atrocities in the name of the Empire, beginning with his part in purging his home city. The man admitted to killing his own parents, which would have been devastating enough, but how many other family members did he consign to death? How many friends, lovers, neighbours, and comrades? A heavy burden for any man to bear, but Gongsun Qi bore it well, because he believed in the greater good. Left unchecked, a Defiled outbreak in his home city could have thrown the entire province into turmoil, if not the Empire at large, so he did what he did because he knew it served a greater purpose.
Having read many an account of Gongsun’s Qi’s life, Hongji found it easy to imagine how the Western Hero had based his entire life upon this singular mantra, that the safety of the many outweighed the suffering of the few. Easy to justify when you yourself had suffered for the greater good, so why spare others this same suffering? And thus, the Prince of Barbarity and Lord of Martial Peace was born, a force for order through bloodshed who brought peace through the sword. Small wonder he broke after the Imperial Clan abandoned the West, seeing his own mantra turned against him despite a lifetime of careful adherence to his personal Path, one of shared suffering in exchange for peace and prosperity. Now, that peace had been shattered and his efforts rendered moot, his Path proven a mistake from the first step unless he could radically change his world view. And thus, Enemies became allies and the Empire became the new Enemy, one he must inflict this shared suffering upon lest his life’s work and hard sacrifices would have all been for naught, and Bai Qi would have killed his parents and so many others for nothing.
Could Hongji even blame the man for breaking? A mortal son of Heaven could only bear so much, these trials and tribulations too cruel and merciless for all but the strongest to endure.
Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps the Mother Above did not love Her children, but instead only wanted the strongest to survive, though for what purpose, Hongji could not say. A foolish endeavour, to question the motives of a God, but his weary mind would not relent as he lamented the loss of a once great man and Living Legend. The Empire would celebrate if Gongsun Qi should fall here today, but in truth, they should mourn, for not only did they lose him when the Western border was closed, the Enemy took him in and turned him against his countrymen, a tragic nightmare for which the Imperial Clan was to blame.
For Falling Rain had seen fit to grant mercy to the Western survivors brought north by Major General Gao Changgong, a move which paid dividends now that they helped Lieutenant General Baatar destroy Huanhuzi’s forces terrorizing the shores of the Azure Sea.
A move which Hongji feared would not be well-received. Granted, it was not common knowledge that Gao Changgong had escaped from the Western Province after stumbling across a smuggler’s operation trafficking supplies from North to West in underwater submersibles, but a secret involving so very many people would be difficult to keep. All it would take was one Western soldier to be recognized or caught seeking news of estranged friends or loved ones and the truth would come barrelling out, and he was sure the Imperial Clan would not look kindly upon their newest Scion’s actions. Falling Rain was a magnanimous man, but by accepting so many Western refugees without informing the Emperor was all but spitting in His face. To make matters worse, Hongji wasn’t certain popular opinion would fall on Legate Rain’s side, as it had in so many other instances. Here they were, fighting and dying to keep the Western Defiled out of the Empire, while the Legate flirted with disaster in the north by accepting Gao Changgong and his ilk into the province sight unseen and without notifying anyone else. On the one hand, Hongji could see why the Legate would do such a thing, for he had a kind, compassionate streak about him, but on the other hand, he could not imagine why the powers of the North would allow such a thing.
Then again, perhaps they hadn’t. The official reports labelled Gao Changgong’s forces as unknown forces, and Hongji only knew the truth because Akanai saw fit to inform him. A gambit meant to force his hand, a small part of him suspected, to see if he would turn against the Legate or keep this secret to himself, but this was not the Bekhai way. They would not lie about something like this, and if they did not trust him, then they simply would not have told him, a wholly foreign way of going about politics, but a refreshingly honest one he could somewhat appreciate. Either way, there was a storm building on the horizon in addition to the real storm hanging over their heads, and he almost wondered if a victory here would be worth the price to be paid by Legate Falling Rain.
Even if every single soldier in Gao Changgong’s army was free of Defiled taint, there would be no proving it beyond the shadow of a doubt. If word of this were to spread, then the Legate’s many enemies would use this to destroy him, assuming the Emperor didn’t do it for them. Ignoring the inherent risks of allowing Western soldiers into the Northern Province, the borders had been closed by Imperial Mandate long before the First Imperial Grand Conference, which meant Falling Rain’s actions were tantamount to rebellion.
The crime for which was punishable by Nine Familial Extermination, a punishment even the Emperor could ill-afford to enforce, considering the Legate’s carefully laid plans might well have snatched victory from the jaws of disaster here on the battlefield today.
A difficult dilemma, this. On the one hand, Legate Falling Rain was a hero deserving of reward, and without Gao Changgong’s forces emerging from the sea to attack Huanhuzi’s bandits from behind, Hongji was hard pressed to imagine a scenario in which the pirate fleet was so easily neutralized. An argument could be made that if, Heavens forbid, the Legate was working with the Enemy, then the pirate fleet could have been a sacrificial pawn, but he’d gone to great lengths to convince the Colonel Generals of the Empire to support this plan with more than mere assurances. Only now did Hongji realize the scope of the Legate’s efforts, for he had insisted that if they were to gamble with the fate of the Empire, then they should do so without holding anything back.
The original plan was to send three armies to reinforce Castle Jianghu, Castle Wulin, and Castle Youxia, at which point the soldiers of Castle Jianghu would retreat and draw Gongsun Qi’s army out to be crushed by a convergence of all three reinforcing armies. However, after openly deploying these three reinforcing armies to the second-line castles, the Legate delayed his plans by several days to give time for three more armies to maneuver into place, armies commanded by Colonel General Nian Zu, Colonel General Tran Hoang, and Major General Gao Changgong respectively. Concealed by the collaborative efforts of multiple Divinities, the first two armies set out for Castle Youxia and Castle Wulin respectively, and were now hard at work liberating the defenders from the Defiled laying siege to those castle walls.
Give flesh and break bone, that was the Legate’s style, one he used here to surprising effect. Instead of committing seventy percent of all available forces, he committed more than a hundred percent, if one included Gao Changgong’s forces into the calculation. Suihua harbour and Castle Jianghu was the flesh he willingly gave up, but he was not content to merely relieve the second-line defences. Falling Rain meant to break the spine of the Defiled offensive here and now.
And he might very well accomplish it...
All of this had been carried out in utmost secrecy because the Legate was a great believer in operational security. Even Hongji and the other second-line commanders had been left out of the loop until now, so that their actions and decisions could not inadvertently give the plan away. The scramble for support, the requests for reinforcements, the desperate battle to hold the walls for as long as they could, all this and more lent truth to the Legate’s deception, and now Colonel General Nian Zu was hard at work dismantling the Defiled army outside Castle Youxia. Colonel General Tran Hoang was having the worst of it, despite having three armies present to match the Defiled’s two, the original defenders, the reinforcements led by Major General Patcha Tong, and his own secretive reinforcing army. A difference in quality of troops, Colonel General Tran Hoang suspected, for while Gongsun Qi’s so-called Chosen of Heaven played at being disciplined soldiers, the Mataram Clan Warriors assaulting Castle Wulin to the south were the real deal, trained Imperials who’d willingly turned against the Empire.
Knowing this, Hongji couldn’t help but think back to Gongsung Qi’s comment during their one and only meeting, where he remarked, “I would much rather you both surrendered, for this Prince has dire need of capable subordinates.” I. This Prince. Gongsun Qi was speaking of his own, personal need, not the collective Enemy war effort itself, because he knew firsthand how his ‘Chosen’ could perform if provided proper leadership. Hongji had already remarked that the Defiled commander would have won if not for the lacking discipline of his troops, discipline which would be made possible by the presence of capable field and junior officers. That was the sole weakness of this Defiled army, a dearth of leadership, for while the Defiled had Chieftains and Demons aplenty, he’d noted a startling lack of lower-ranked Champions and other leaders to help coordinate the Defiled troops’ efforts.
And even with this debilitating handicap, Gongsun Qi almost won the day with his superlative ability to command, and despite three Colonel Generals and another army joining the fray, was still not defeated yet.
As if to punctuate Hongji’s thought, Gongsun Qi’s laugh echoed across the dark skies. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.” Defiled and Imperial alike diminished in fervour as they curtailed their efforts to kill one another to listen in on this exchange, their mutual curiosity overcoming their zeal and enmity. Standing upon a mound of untouched dirt amidst a swathe of destruction around him, Gongsun Qi cut a dashing figure there upon the battlefield, the damage to his pauldron doing nothing to take away from his valiant bearing. “This Prince heard tell of how the Colonel Generals of Central were not worth their salt.” Scoffing loudly enough to be heard over the whistling wind, he added, “How disappointing to discover the rumours true. Even the half-breed doe presented more of a challenge.”
Rather than answering, Mitsue Juichi unleashed yet another Mountain Collapsing Strike, and with his attention wholly focused on their conflict, Hongji saw the truth of the matter. Rather than blocking an attack aimed towards him, Gongsun Qi now moved to intercept the attack, one aimed towards the ground at his feet and directing it out and away. Their duel was not one of equals, but rather a statement made by Gongsun Qi, one which stated that Mitsue Juichi was not his match. “You cannot even force me to move my feet,” the Defiled traitor had claimed, and despite his best efforts, the Obsidian Shadow was unable to prove otherwise.
How could the gap in strength be so great? The Father blessed his Defiled minions with undeserved strength, but even then, how could Gongsun Qi be so far above the famed Mitsue Juichi?
Appearing out of the shadows at the forefront of the army, Mitsue Juichi cut a sorry sight on the battlefield. The oldest serving Colonel General by almost a decade, the Obsidian Shadow had been a household name in Central for as long as Hongji had lived, and it pained him to see this celebrated hero in such disarray. His colourful robes were torn and ruffled, his elaborate painted nails snapped, and his cheeks hung loosely as he panted and heaved in place, a man clearly past his prime and not in the best of shape. A trail of dried blood ran down the side of his head, ruining the effect of his powdered face and leaving no doubt as to which of them was on the losing end of this exchange, but still Mitsue Juichi clung gamely on. Eyes narrowed in barely restrained anger, the Obsidian Shadow fumed and spoke with his pitched, falsetto voice, one not at all suited for the wrinkled, plump grandfather before them. “I suppose I should not be too surprised that the traitor general has studied my records and prepared accordingly. A shame I never saw fit to do the same, but I never thought you worth it.”
Gongsun Qi laughed, again, exaggerating for effect. “And here this Prince believed a Colonel General would have more pride than to whine like a beaten dog. You are correct, however. This Prince has studied you well, with help from someone who knows you well and loathes you as only family can.”
Mitsue Juichi’s fury was frightening to behold, the tired old man transforming into a god of war before their very eyes. Disappearing from sight, he reappeared behind Gongsun Qi and lashed out with his twin maces. Ducking a blow to the head and blocking a second to the knee, the traitor general responded in kind and their exchange surpassed Hongji’s ability to keep up, their arms and bodies a blur as they traded blow after blow after blow. The earth exploded and Gongsun Qi’s mound crumbled apart in an instant as a massive crater erupted in the middle of the battlefield, but still the two Colonel Generals could not be tracked. No, that wasn’t true, their individual movements were too fast to follow, but anyone with eyes could see the trail of destruction they left behind.
A blur of gold shot out of the pit followed by a multicoloured streak of fury, and a second crater erupted from deep within the Defiled lines. Unarmoured tribal types who delighted in torture and bloodshed, but even they didn’t entirely deserve to have such carnage inflicted upon them. Blood and dirt flew in all directions and a chorus of screams rang out, but the eruption had yet to even peak when a second exploded nearby, indicating Mitsue Juichi was done holding back. Thundering explosions detonated across the Defiled army, and everyone could see the struggle between the two Colonel Generals, with Gongsun Qi struggling to bring the fight back to neutral ground while Mitsue Juichi ran roughshod through the Defiled army. Impossible to say how many Defiled he killed in so short a time, but Hongji had to believe the Obsidian Shadow had caught up to Du Min Gyu in sheer volume of kills. Even though a part of him knew this was not an efficient use of Chi or stamina, he could not help by marvel at the massed destruction on display, all wrought at the hands, nay the feet of a single Martial Warrior.
Mitsue Juichi was a relic from another time, one who clung to outdated fashions and let himself slip, but by the Heavens, the man could still fight.
All this took place in the blink of an eye, and by the time Hongji had time to blink a second time, the chaos had subsided. Returning to the Imperial lines flanked by Ryo Dae Jung, Shuai Jiao, Akanai, and Du Min Gyu, the Obsidian Shadow was the very picture of fury incarnate. “Hideo!” he bellowed, struggling against Shuai Jiao who held him firm, and Hongji’s heart broke from the pain in his voice. “Hiroshi! Do not despair! After these Defiled have paid for what they’ve done, I will bring you home and do whatever it takes to make you both whole again, this I swear!”
Again, the Lord of Martial Peace laughed, but when the dust settled, Hongji’s spirits soared at the sight of his foe, ringed by a similar number of formidable Demons. Finishing what Akanai had begun, Mitsue Juichi had demolished what remained of Gongsun Qi’s Runic armour, the cracked steel shell just barely clinging to his frame. Holding his reclining moon blade with one hand, the other hung loosely at his side, the pale, broken bone jutting out from an ugly wound. “So, perhaps your reputation is not entirely undeserved.”
“Release Hideo and Hiroshi now, Defiled filth,” Juichi demanded, breaking free from Shuai Jiao’s grip and hefting his twin maces once again, revealing that he had not escaped their clash unscathed. Deep furrows ran across the old Warrior’s wrists, so parallel and symmetrical they could only have been left by sharp, grasping talons, no doubt belonging to one of Gongsun Qi’s Demonic guards. Putting the clues together, Hongji inferred that the Demons had come to their commander’s aid, and the Imperial Peak Experts had responded in kind, sending only the strongest and faster Warriors to fetch Juichi. Both Akanai and Du Min Gyu looked none the worse for wear, even though both were older than Juichi and had been fighting all day alongside Hongji. The Bekhai commander had yet to even change out of her tattered armour, which she really should since her pale, bared belly was distracting to the extreme.
Now was not the time to dream of beautiful women though, and the Lieutenant General deserved more respect than that, so he refocused on the matter at hand. Still laughing in response to Juichi’s demand, Gongsun Qi’s tone and expression were tinged with burgeoning madness, the calm, collected facade finally starting to crack beneath the stress of defeat. “Old fool,” Gongsun Qi sneered, and it occurred to Hongji that despite his youthful good looks, the Defiled commander was no spring chicken himself. “Still so blind to the truth. Mitsue Hiroshi, the lone talent capable of propping up the crumbling foundations of your family, is dead.”
The words hit Juichi like a hammer, and were it not for Shuai Jiao’s silent support, the old Warrior might have fallen to his knees. There was no proof provided, but Juichi believed Gongsun Qi’s claim because he had no real reason to lie. True grief spilled from the Obsidian Shadow, mourning a lost family member for the second time, but what did Gongsun Qi mean by what he said about Hiroshi? Was the supposedly unremarkable Mitsue Family Patriarch a hidden Peak Expert? If he had skill enough to match Juichi in his youth, then he would’ve been a well hidden treasure indeed, for already the vultures were circling the Mitsue Family holdings and just waiting for Juichi to die. Now, all those hopes had sputtered out, and Juichi’s legacy would die with him, but to Hongji’s discerning eye, this was not a man lamenting lost riches, but one mourning a beloved son.
Remembering himself, Juichi straightened up and demanded, “Then what of little Hideo? Return my grand-nephew at once.”
“Grand-Nephew, is it now?”
Though the voice was unfamiliar, Hongji instantly knew who it belonged to judging by Juichi’s expression. His powdered face turned even paler and his jaw dropped open in shock, his lips moving without sound as he struggled to find the words to respond and failed miserably. Eyes wide and bulging, he stared across the field at a figure which emerged beside Gongsun Qi, one clad in the Runic armour of the Chosen. The figure removed his red-plumed helmet and revealed a bald head atop a youthful sneer, so despite suspecting who it was, it took Hongji a moment to recognize young Mitsue Hideo.
Not so for Juichi, who staggered back into Shuai Jiao’s waiting arms. Aging a decade in mere seconds, the Obsidian Shadow faded before everyone’s eyes as he whispered, “Little Hideo?”
Standing tall alongside Gongsun Qi, Hideo raised his nose to the sky and declared, “I, Mitsue Hideo, do hereby renounce the old fool Mitsue Juichi as my Mentor. With the Heavens as my witness, may this be so.” Each word pierced the old Warrior like a dagger plunging into his heart, and Hongji watched the hope drain from Juichi’s eyes as he watched his most beloved Disciple forsake him, a sight which brought many a tear spilling down Imperial cheeks. “For the sake of your pride,” Hideo continued, burning with righteous anger while delivering untold pain to a hero of the Empire, “My father, Mitsue Hiroshi, a Dragon among men, languished in mediocrity and kept his true strength hidden. Why? So none would compare him against your worthless sons and lacking Disciples, myself included. You failed as father, you failed as a Mentor, and now, with no heirs worthy enough to carry on your family name, you’ve failed as a Patriarch. How does it feel, old fool, to see your life’s pursuits amount to nothing?”
Closing his eyes, Juichi took his time replying, heaving several sobbing breaths before straightening up. “Come back to me, little Hideo. Return to my side, and I will do whatever it takes to bring you back into the light.”
“...Have you gone deaf and senile, old fool? Were you not listening? You are no Mentor of mine.”
“So be it, but I am your Grand-Uncle still.” Stretching his arms out as if to embrace him from across the field, Juichi said, “Please, little Hideo, you have strayed and gone down a dark Path, but it is not too late yet. Come back to my side, and I swear to you, no one will take you away.” Seeing his words have no effect, Juichi slapped himself across the face hard enough to set his previously Healed cuts to bleeding. “Grand-Uncle is to blame.” A second slap rang out, this time on the other side. “I taught you poorly and mistreated your father.” Another slap left a bloody hand print on his powdered white cheek. “Whatever grievances you have, I will redress them, this I swear, but first you must return to my side. Please.”
The last word broke both Mitsues as the elder cried and the younger screeched. “You know nothing, old fool, nothing!” Tears streamed down Hideo’s cheeks as he strained against someone’s grip, and only then did Hongji notice the gangly monk beside him, with eyebrows so thick they almost negated the point of shaving his head. That explained why Hideo was also bald, having fallen in with the defectors from the Penitent Brotherhood. Perhaps there was still hope yet then. “Not too late? Old fool, you don’t even know what takes place inside your own manor walls. It is almost a full year too late for me, and still you cling to false hope.”
Confusion, then clarity, then resignation flashed across Juichi’s face, divining some hidden meaning in Hideo’s words which went unnoticed to the rest, and it destroyed what little hope he had left. Unable to look at his grand-nephew anymore, the aged Living Legend sobbed and turned away. Nodding in agreement to a whispered request, Shuai Jiao handed the grieving Mitsue Juichi over to a pair of soldiers and stepped forward to flick his sleeves. Clad in unremarkable, brown robes, his flat, ordinary expression did little to inspire confidence, but this was the foremost Colonel General of Central, an efficient and tenacious Warrior and Commander who was neither flashy nor impressive, yet always emerged victorious no matter the obstacle before him. Running a hand over his bald head as he cleared his throat, Shuai Jiao offered a small, almost apologetic nod to Hideo and said, “Your Grand-Uncle loves you more than words can ever describe. As he cannot bear to see you suffer, I shall endeavour to make this quick and painless as possible.” Turning to Dae Jung, he smiled and shrugged ever so slightly before springing into action.
One moment he stood at the forefront of the army, and the next, he stood face to face with Gongsun Qi, happily demonstrating why he was nicknamed the Grasping Vine. The dirt broke open once again, but rather than erupting in fury, what emerged belied all belief as verdant green plants grew before their eyes, choking, creeping vines which fastened themselves to Demon and Defiled alike. Only a small area around Shuai Jiao was affected, but it was enough to capture the traitor General, all his guards, and Hideo too, though the thick-browed monk somehow miraculously escaped. Arriving shortly behind Shuai Jiao was the Sword King himself, his pitch-black blade drinking in what little sunlight they had left, all that could make it past the dark clouds overhead. The sword flashed and a Demon died, neatly bisected without resistance. His true target, Gongsun Qi, escaped unscathed, but in the lull of his attack, Shuai Jiao made his second move. A single hand reached for Hideo, and though his movements seemed slow, they were deceptively fast, closing in around the boy’s neck.
Only for the thick-browed monk to intercept.
A struggle ensued, but not one Hongji could follow, their hands seemingly glued together as they sought to grab, lock, throw, or dislodge one another in a clash at extreme close combat. Not an area Hongji excelled in, but while everyone knew this was Shuai Jiao’s favoured range, the fallen monk was no slouch himself, ably defending himself against the Grasping Vine’s physical attacks while somehow avoiding the touch of the plants emerging all around him.
Wait. Did Hongji’s eyes deceive him? The monk wasn’t just ably defending himself, he was doing so with only one hand, his other raised in supplication while he stood with head bowed and eyes closed in silent prayer.
A monster. That was the only way to describe someone capable of fending off a Colonel General with a single hand, much less with eyes closed as well. How many more monks were there like this one? How many Defiled Peak Experts? What of the Demons who’d come out to face the Sword King, including a pale, hulking, Water-Blessed tyrant which washed away all of Shuai Jiao’s obstructing efforts? The Dark Child was also still there, and so many more Demons of unknown strength, so how was the Empire supposed to win against these stacked, almost hopeless odds?
Persevere. What more can you do besides try?
Of course.
Seeing the Colonel Generals were preoccupied, Hongji returned to the bloody work at hand and set his soldiers to killing. Win or lose, the outcome had yet to be decided, and even if all the Colonel Generals should fall and his soldiers slaughtered to the last, even if Heaven and Earth were torn asunder, Chen Hongji would persevere so long as he still drew breath. What more could a mere mortal do? Such was life, trials and tribulations without end, but an end to this battle was already in sight. Just a bit further, he could feel it in his bones.
For better or for worse.
Comments
Rest Arino
Feels like dragon ball z characters tbh
CentaureHeart
Thanks for the chapter!
Zarik0
Thx for the chap
Allastin
I’m sure you will. I mean you wrote it yourself lol. “ Persevere. What more can you do besides try?”
Editors cost monies and times. Twould be great to have an editor to tighten things up, but at the end of the day, that's a lot of extra work on my plate. Editing is actually really difficult for me, because even if I don't make any changes, I agonize over possibly making changes. I'll sit down, retype a sentence a dozen times, then decide i like it the way is was. move on to sentence two, and repeat. That being said, I have some ideas to help manage pacing in my next foray, but it's too late to put that into action here. My idea involves copying jim butcher's style and having 4 distinct plot threads going at once that all tie together at the end, so there's always something to move forward with when something else needs to percolate. No idea if i can do it, but Im gonna try
I would just like to say that although I enjoy pretty much every chapter you put out, you need an editor mate. Have you ever read the Inheritance series? It started off so strong with Eragon but by the 3rd book it was so overly detailed and monologued that it was boring. I’m feeling the same vibe here. Like you have almost too many great ideas, someone needs to come in and make it so that the pacing isn’t screwed
