Chapter 467 (Patreon)

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Lip curled in a contemptuous sneer, Baatar scoffed and said, “Despicable.”

There was no answer forthcoming from the twin monkey brothers lying sprawled out in the grass, and Baatar didn’t expect one since they were too busy fanning their faces and heaving their chests to speak. Although there were other warriors in similar straits all around them, Baatar demanded more from the once-promising pair, and seeing them like this had him foaming at the mouth. Once, he thought their lack of discipline was all that kept them from becoming the Peak Experts everyone knew they could be, but after taking the brothers under his wing, he realized he’d grossly underestimated how difficult it would be to force them to reach their full potential.

Raising his guard without appearing to, Baatar prodded Jochi in the ribs with his boot none-too-gently. “On your feet.”

“...Just. Another minute.” Arm draped across his eyes, Jochi nimbly slid away from Baatar’s boot, gliding across the grass and dirt like it were smooth ice instead. Panting and wheezing as if struggling to breathe, he engaged in a blind struggle with his brother laying beside him as they fought to position themselves away from Baatar and use the other as a barrier.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Baatar booted Argat as well and snarled, “Enough pretending! You think me blind? Neither of you are winded, so on your feet now or I will have you both bound and suspended from the citadel gates.”

Any self-respecting Martial Warrior would have leapt to their feet at the thought of such humiliation, but Argat and Jochi merely scowled and pushed themselves up with a deliberate lack of haste. Not only were they undisciplined, the two monkey brothers were also lazy, belligerent, and defiant, prone to feigning injury and devising ruses to fake their way out of proper training, not to mention lashing out in anger when their schemes didn’t work out. Were it up to Baatar, he would leave them to their sloth and be happier for it, but their Mentor had flown into a rage upon hearing the mischievous pair had accepted Disciples of their own. Then Argat and Jochi dug themselves deeper into their pit by claiming they were only half-Mentors to the Lang brothers, an utterly ridiculous and irresponsible statement if there ever was one.

Half a mentor? One might as well call themselves half a parent...

Wincing at the pangs of guilt elicited by the comparison, Baatar massaged his forehead and cursed his past self for agreeing to this. Unable to treat the monkey brothers harshly, their Mentor had forced them both to join Baatar’s training sessions for his personal guards, a decision made without consulting him, and it soon became apparent why. Not only were the Lang brothers more promising, hard working, and rewarding to train, Jochi and Argat were a nightmare to deal with. Liable to shirk their duties and cut corners if left to their own devices, Baatar was forced to play nursemaid to the difficult pair and keep them close by, hence their current efforts to feign exhaustion in hopes of escaping his attentions.

If they took half the effort they used to slack off and put it towards their training instead, then Baatar suspected Argat and Jochi would have long since become Peak Experts rivalling Mentor herself...

Knowing their tempers were close to erupting, Baatar judged it was time to instill a little fear into them once again. “Weapons at the ready,” he snapped, giving them a half-second’s warning before lashing out with his leaden practice pole-arm. Jochi reacted first this time, parrying the blow and directing it towards his brother out of spite for not giving way earlier while they laid on the ground, but Argat was ready and waiting to block. Drawing his weapon back, Baatar unleashed a second attack, then a third, hammering away at the brothers as they stood with feet rooted in place and orders to do nothing but defend. Four hands against two, but even then, Baatar landed a fair number of hits on their bruised flesh and their scowls darkened with every successive strike. Pleasant as it was to knock sense into the frustrating man-children, he was careful never to give them an opening to counter-attack lest the devious brothers take advantage to exact revenge for their many beatings and claim their hands slipped or some other such nonsense. Were they back home in the village, he could tolerate their tomfoolery, but here in the citadel with so many soldiers as witnesses, Baatar could not afford to let his guard down around these rascals and hooligans. While a long ways from defeating him, Argat and Jochi were more than capable of creatively humiliating him if they put their minds to it, whether it be by prodding his ass with a spear, fart in his face, or some other inspired piece of tomfoolery.

Mother knows they’d done worse to their esteemed Mentor while growing up...

Sensing danger in their gazes, Baatar stepped back and ordered Dagen and three others to take his place before turning his attention to his personal guards, having given them enough time to rest after a light, eighty kilometre run. One thousand Experts were gathered here before him, talented warriors and veteran soldiers to the last. While many were Sentinels and acquaintances, most were northerners recommended by Nian Zu, BoHai, and his other peers, while still others were unaffiliated soldiers with enough skill to catch his eye and agreed to join his personal guard. Any of them could attain the rank of Major if they so desired it, if not higher, but whether it be a lack of ambition, tactical acumen, or patronage, these soldiers were content to serve at his side. Dragons among men, their loyalty was unquestionable and their potential unmatched by any except those standing at the foremost of their peers, those rare celebrated talents such as Han BoHai, Ryo Dae Jung and the like.

The boy could have reached such heights in a decade or two, but alas...

His mood turning sour, Baatar ordered his guards to begin sparring in their weighted armour and they set to with fierce tenacity, if not enthusiasm, their endurance pushed to the limits after months of gruelling training. While intended to raise their individual strength, he also used this shared suffering as a means to build a sense of camaraderie amongst these proud warriors and foster cooperation between them. Each of these talents stood out from their peers and could eventually reach the Peak of Martial strength given time, but their lonely existences meant they were unused to working with the warriors around them. A single soldier meant little on the battlefield, for even the most powerful amongst them would eventually succumb to exhaustion if left to fight on their own, meaning stamina and teamwork were key to turning talented warriors into a coordinated fighting force.

Throughout the citadel, there were hundreds of groups just like this one, with soldiers of variable skill preparing for the oncoming hordes of Defiled. They’d been at this for months now, and Baatar’s patience had long since worn thin, eager to ride out with his guards and meet the Enemy in battle on the front lines, but his orders were to hold fast and do nothing. Tactically, it was the right move since Central’s flat, open plains offered the Imperial forces no advantage against the Defiled’s vastly superior numbers, but after the debacle in Sinuji, Baatar was convinced they could no longer afford to wait. While they’d always been a threat, the Defiled had been nothing more than wild savages, but this had changed in recent years. Not only had the various tribes stopped fighting amongst themselves, which alone was already a grave threat to the Empire, but now they were organizing and establishing industries and supply chains. While the majority were still mindless, rage-fuelled cretins, Sanshu and Sinuji had proved there was more to the Defiled than senseless violence and feral cunning. This was a new breed of Defiled they faced, a smarter, disciplined Enemy who fought using military tactics and could mass produce Runic Armour and Defiled Weapons. Given enough time, it was possible the Enemy hordes would not only outnumber the Imperial forces, but they’d also be better equipped to boot, and the thought of facing such a fearsome foe filled Baatar with apprehension and excitement.

A shame they couldn’t salvage the Runic armour from their Defiled foes, but the possibility of those tainted items infecting their wearers was too much of a risk. Had the boy not been injured so grievously and still able to cleanse Defiled Taint, then Baatar might have taken a risk and quietly saved a few sets from the fires, but...

Shame and remorse eating away at his gut, Baatar strode up and down the lines of warriors and offered advice, criticism, and praise until it was long past time to leave. Annoyed he even had to wait for his escort team, he hurried away as soon as they were ready with as much haste as possible given his lofty status, since seeing the second-in-command running or riding away at full speed was liable to incite a panic. Arriving home well before dinnertime, he found his beloved wife and son sitting beneath a canvas canopy in the park beside their manor, watching the octopus, quins, and Guardian Turtle frolic in the pond while the rabbits, bears, and twins played on the field and the birds circled around overhead. Bundled in a padded overcoat despite the mild Central winter, Rain sat on his walker with a bird laying in his lap and laughed at the wildcats pouncing and tumbling about, their eyes wide while in desperate pursuit of a feather on a string which was deftly controlled by his sweetheart Lin.

In almost eight years since he brought the boy home, Baatar had never seen Rain this happy, which said a lot about the sort of parent he was. A failure of one.

The boy had already shown himself prone to bouts of depression, and after Sinuji, everyone worried he’d succumb to them again or worse, but despite his shattered Core and constant suffering, Rain’s morale recovered in a matter of weeks, if not days, unlike the rest of him. Though his sleep was still plagued by nightmares and days wracked with pain, he almost seemed like a different person of late, a happier, cheerier, more relaxed Falling Rain, one unlike anyone had ever before seen. As Sarnai explained it, being crippled freed Rain from the burden of his obsession, no longer feeling the constant need to make strides along the Martial Path. Without this force driving him into a reckless pursuit of strength, he could finally let go of his worries and enjoy himself, spending his days in peace with his loved ones and pets. Perhaps this was how Rain would have been all along if he’d forsaken the Martial Path and become an herbalist or scholar instead. Heaven knows the boy was suited for any of those professions given his brilliant inventions and unconventional thinking, so seeing him like this made Baatar wish he’d never taken the boy as his Disciple and left him to lead a happy, carefree life in the village.

How different might the boy’s story have been if not for Baatar’s interference, Falling Rain the Healer and, tinkerer, and merchant instead of Falling Rain the cripple and maligned.

Swallowing his sorrow, Baatar unharnessed Balor and set him loose before going to join his wife and son. The bears noticed him first, ambling over with their gurgling grunts before leaping into his arms. Chuckling at their silly antics, he arranged a bear under each arm before giving his beloved wife a kiss, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to ward him off. “Dog-brained fool,” she Sent, her cheeks heating with anger and embarrassment. “How many times must I tell you? No one wants to see a great hero kissing his frail old wife.”

Knowing she would spare his reputation and never scold him in public, Baatar took full advantage and kissed her again, a deeper, more passionate kiss, the sort he usually reserved for the privacy of their bedroom. Unfortunately, in recent weeks, he found his marital bed occupied by too many furry, unwelcome guests, and their interference left him starved of affection. “Your Husband is indeed a great hero, but where is this frail old wife you speak of? I only have one wife, and she is a beautiful rose, so if others are too jealous and cannot stand to see me kiss her, then they are welcome to look away.” Silly woman, always worrying about appearances, but his rose had always been one to fret. Adjusting the squirming bears in his grasp, he turned to Rain and smiled. “You are looking better today.”

Every word true, but it wasn’t saying much. The dark circles under his amber eyes made him look half-dead and ready to collapse with exhaustion, while his skin was still pock-marked with pimples and darkening scars, but his cheery smile more than made up for the flaws. Beaming with pride, Rain said, “Thanks. I feel better too. Made it a hundred steps before lunch today, though I think I’m done walking for the day. It’s not much, but it’s progress. At this pace, it won’t be long before I can get rid of the walker, though I’ll miss how convenient it is carrying a chair everywhere I go.”

“Good, good.” Though he wanted to share in his son’s joy, a burst of muffled laughter caught his ear and he turned to glare at the offenders. There they stood not fifteen meters away, a crowd of snobbish young nobles and their boot-licking lackeys, laughing at Rain’s declaration of progress. The park was open to all whether they be civilian or soldier, and many were here along with their families to see the animals or pray at the Divine turtle, not to mention an inordinate number of shabbily-dressed Protectorate lurking about. Were it not for them, Baatar would have long since fenced off the park to keep these undesirable young fops away from his son. No doubt these fools had been following Rain and Sarnai about ever since they left the manor, making mocking gestures and cutting remarks in hopes of getting a reaction from them. Baatar had told Rain he was free to order his Death Corps guards to beat them bloody every time they dared showed their damnable smirking faces, but Rain was far more forgiving than he should be.

Before Baatar could march over and demand their name, the dandies and fops sensed his hostility and scurried away, but no doubt they’d be back again tomorrow. If not them specifically, another group would take their place, these worthless scions of noble houses taking great delight in Rain’s adversity. Who were they to laugh at his son? What accomplishments had they to boast of? Some were a decade Rain’s senior and still had yet to Condense an Aura or Form a Natal Palace, so what right did they have to mock a man who did both before the age of nineteen?

“Ignore them, Dad,” Rain said, interrupting Baatar’s brooding anger. “When dogs bark, you don’t drop to all fours and bark back.”

Though not spoken loudly, the retreating young nobles heard Rain’s mockery and most turned around to glare, but Baatar’s presence kept them from coming back. Having seen their faces, he would be on the lookout for them during the next grand social event, and so help their families once he knew who they were. Laughing loudly for them to hear, he said, “An apt analogy, son. Barking dogs indeed.”

“Pei.” Glaring at their retreating backs, Sarnai chimed in. “Dogs they may be, but dogs in need of a lesson. Just have them beaten and thrown into the pond, your father will bear the consequences, assuming there even are any. You are too kind son, too tolerant of those insufferable twits, which is why even a mere server –”

Trailing off mid sentence, Sarnai coughed and fell silent. “What happened?” he asked, knowing they had planned to dine at a restaurant earlier today. It was to be Rain’s first real excursion outside the manor aside from his short trips to the pond, one he’d been looking forward to for days now.

“Nothing happened,” Rain replied, but his strained tone and Sarnai’s smouldering glare said otherwise. “We were late to the restaurant because I wanted to walk there and they gave away our tables. No big deal.”

This was an act which touched Rain’s bottom line, and Baatar could see the server would live to regret his actions. Putting the bears down, he stroked the boy’s hair and Sent, “Just don’t burn the place down. Even if you kill the server, no one will dare touch you.”

“So bloodthirsty.” Rolling his eyes, Rain regained his good cheer and grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve put things in motion. Truth be told, I kind of wanted to go full-noble at the restaurant and scream, ‘Do you know who my father is?’, or something close, but even crippled and broken, I can’t let myself sink so low.”

Since they made no effort to conceal their conversation, many of the other park-goers heard his comment and laughed, because in truth, Rain was still better than those worthless scions who mocked him. Had the Enemy not conspired to break him, Rain would not only be the Number One Young Talent in the Empire, he would soon also be a contender for the Number One Expert under thirty. Even after his Core shattered, Rain took yet another step along the Martial Path and developed his Domain, and though the circumstances had been unique and he was unable to duplicate his success since, he’d already done it once so he could easily do it again after he learned to overcome his shortcomings. Baatar had sent multiple messages to Broken Blade Pichai asking the Southerner to come share his experiences with Rain, but thus far, there’d been no word from the reclusive Peak Expert. While he could put in a request for a leave of absence and go invite Pichai in person, there was too much which needed to be done, and Rain had never once mentioned wanting to speak with the Southerner, but the moment he raised the request, Baatar would move Heaven and Earth to fulfill it.

Oh how he wished he could go back in time and keep himself from leading Rain down this path, or if that wasn’t possible, at least change how he’d gone about Mentoring the boy. It was difficult to guide a brilliant mind like Rain’s, because too much guidance might hinder his talents while too little could see him veer off the proper path, but since he progressed so quickly without guidance, then Baatar saw no reason to interfere. Learning so many new skills could impact the boy’s foundation and spread his focus too thin, but the boy was already at the forefront of his peers and had many years to shore up his weaknesses before turning twenty-five.

Unfortunately, Baatar had grown complacent in Rain’s progress and didn’t pay the boy enough mind. Oftentimes, Heavenly Insight and mundane inspiration were indistinguishable from one another, much like the boy’s idea for Natal Souls and Keystones, but what Baatar failed to account for was that Rain wasn’t merely a genius, he was an unconventional genius. When presented with a bottleneck, instead of working hard to break through, he instead devoted his efforts to devising ways around them. Where most who found it difficult to Amplify would continue practising until they mastered the skill, Rain developed a way to relegate Amplification to an unconscious process via his Keystones, alongside other skills he found troublesome to manage. While it might seem like Insightful brilliance, Baatar saw through the flaws with a single glance and spent long hours convincing the boy of his concerns.

Although the Keystones allowed Rain to use Amplification on demand, he was no longer performing the skill, but reproducing a single instance of success. It was the difference between drawing a portrait and tracing one, because no matter how many times you did it, tracing another artist’s work would never make you a proper artist. If Rain never consciously practised a skill, then how was he to learn all the distinct characteristics and subtle nuances involved? This applied not only to Amplification, but also to Reinforcement, Lightening, and other skills, for this fundamental knowledge and familiarity would be crucial during later steps along the Martial Path. Though useful, Keystones were like Sarnai’s wheeled chair: rely too much on it while you are healthy, and your strength would waste away.

Though Rain had ventured down a dead-end fork on the Martial Path, it was a small matter which could easily be fixed had his Core not been shattered. Where others might stumble and falter for months, years, and even decades, before reaching a milestone, Rain had run headlong down the Martial Path and made great strides with every passing week. Despite minimal direction, he Condensed his Aura in the heat of battle and he even Formed his Natal Palace without knowing what a Natal Palace was, a feat never before even heard of. Though Rain attributed his quick progress to almost becoming Defiled, if the Father could simply bestow so much strength upon His mortal agents, then the Empire would have long since fallen to the Enemy’s might.

Just knowing how far Rain had gone on his own filled Baatar with pride because his son was a brilliant genius, but it also shamed him to know his Disciple had achieved such heights without his help, meaning he wasn’t only a failure of a father to Rain, but also a failure of a Mentor.

“Don’t worry Dad,” Rain said, startling Baatar out of his thoughts. Reaching over to squeeze his hand, Rain smiled and whispered, “I won’t be like this forever. Just you watch.”

Brimming with pride, Baatar vowed to do better by his son and Disciple, though he wasn’t certain Rain even needed a Mentor. “I believe you, son,” he said, squeezing back ever so gently. “This is merely a minor issue for a man like yourself.” Clearing his throat and holding back tears, he quickly changed the subject to a lighter subject. “The new year is almost upon us, and you will finally be a man grown, though some would argue you have been one since the day we found you.” Chuckling at Rain’s awkward, almost shame-faced cringe, Baatar continued, “Since the timing is right, what say we set a date for your marriage to Mila and Yan? Immediately after the two weeks of new years celebrations is always a popular time, and it’s also when I married your mother...”

Sensing something was wrong, Baatar trailed off as Rain looked away and Sarnai fixed him with a murderous glare. After a long silence, Rain coughed and said, “Err... I was thinking... we should probably hold off until after I recover. Because... well... yea.”

“Dog-brained fool,” Sarnai Sent, her tone ablaze with fury. “How is he to consummate his marriages as he is? My son’s skin is thick, but even he has his limits.”

All too late Baatar understood what Sarnai meant, and he immediately went red with shame. How terrible of him to suggest... The poor boy, he couldn’t even...

...

No wonder Mila and Yan had ridden out for the front lines in bloodthirsty pursuit of Gen, or at least whatever strange being inhabited him. Not only did this creature cripple their beloved betrothed, he also interfered with their sweet marital bliss...

Despite all the unknowns regarding Gen and the Defiled Expert inhabiting his flesh, Baatar was certain the creature’s fate would be sealed if he stumbled across Mila or Yan, for like Rain once said, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

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