Chapter 737 unedited unmemed (Patreon)

Sorry for the increasingly later chapters. Like I said many times before, life is picking up again, and unlike what I said before, I have not actually comitted to shorter chapters. 

With that in mind, and the fact that I still have a lot of editing to do on the next releases and a dentist+ dinner appointment wednesday, I doubt I'll have a chapter out before thursday. I'll try to have one out fri or sat as well, but who knows. I might have to take a break from reg releases to catch up instead. Sorry again, but such is life. I'm not thrilled with how this chapter went either, but no time for even more rewrites -_-

Anywho, hopes you all enjoy, and thanks for continuing to support me through this, though I will wholly understand if you stop. Bye for now.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1--ul4GPoBTT3F3Lj03Hz2pDqMdl069n94td2rDwgUrU/edit?usp=sharing

Behind every Great General lay a mountain of corpses, and having risen to fame in the turbulent Western Province, Gao Changgong’s mountain towered over most.

Not a point to take pride in, to have killed and lost so many Warriors over the course of his career, but an inevitability of war. At sixty-seven years old, his career spanned over five decades now, having taken up arms at the tender age of fifteen after desert nomads slaughtered his family in a fit of rage over their lacklustre larder. Those were hard days during difficult times, when peasants rose up in revolt every other month because they were too hungry or thirsty to work, which was why the Western Imperial Army was willing to take in commoners to train them from the ground up in hopes of uncovering a diamond in the rough.

Gao Changgong had been one such diamond, and Bai Qi another, but rather than build a friendship upon this foundation of similarity, they became the most bitter of rivals instead.

He still remembered the first time he met the cruel Prince of Barbarity, during the Kang Tao rebellion. Changgong had been but a raw recruit back then, trembling from head to toe as he stared across the field at the army arrayed against him. Fisherfolk mostly, men and women he would have once called his own people before that life was lost to him, and it pained him to point his spear at such pitiful souls. This all began with the murder of a local merchant lord and the refusal to honour his contracts, a conflict that soon spiralled out of control as rioters took the streets and set fire to Magistrate’s manor, killing the Imperial Tax-Collector housed within.

An unfortunate turn of events that led to this all-out rebellion, and Changgong could see the sheer desperation in their eyes even from so far away. These were not people who murdered out of greed and excess, but impoverished labourers tired of going hungry while working day and night to meet the Province’s demands. He remembered well the pain of knowing there was salted fish sitting in the warehouse next door while his stomach sat empty and swollen, stored and secured by the merchants who owned father’s fishing boat and charged him for the privilege of using them. Nets too, with a hefty penalty for each one that broke since they were woven from materials which had to be shipped in, enough so that many took to using sharpened sticks instead because they could no longer afford to take on more debt. Knowing this, how could he not empathize with the poor souls across from him?

One thousand soldiers had gathered here along the coast, so close to the village Changgong once called home. Against them stood ten to twelve times their number, desperate commoners holding their ground against trained Martial Warriors with naught but the same nets and sharpened sticks they fished with. They were no match for the force arrayed against them, this much was clear, and they knew it too, their lines already wavering before the battle had even begun. With only two years of basic training behind him, Changgong knew little of actual warfare as this would be his first real large-scale engagement, having only seen actual combat in barroom brawls and bandit hunts. As such, he expected the Commanding Officer would open a dialogue with the fisherfolk and offer them a chance to surrender, but there would be no discussion on the field that day. Instead, the horns sounded the charge, and being the novice soldier he was, Changgong followed orders and joined his fellow soldiers in slaughtering every last man, woman, and child who stood against them.

A battle which haunted Changgong to this day, for despite knowing that those who died in battle were spared the horrors of what came next, Senior Captain Bai Qi was not a man of half-measures.

Major Bai Qi soon after, for the quick resolution earned him a promotion through the ranks once he demonstrated his had the strength and resolve to hold it. This more than anything made Changgong sick to his stomach, the fact that the higher echelons of command cared naught for the suffering of the Western people so long as shipments of fish and clean water came in on time. However, as a soldier locked into service with no backing or significant talent to speak of, he had no choice but to continue serving under Bai Qi for another five years. The war-crazed slaughterer sought out conflict after bloody conflict, and while not all campaigns were as abhorrent as the first, Changgong soon discovered that stringing up dead and dying bandits proved no less distasteful than doing the same to impoverished rebels. Effective? Undoubtedly so, for few cared to cross Bai Qi twice assuming they survived their first encounter, so Changgong kept his head down and followed orders because he felt he had no other choice.

Then came the fateful day when he finally opened his eyes, the same day Bai Qi promoted him to the rank of Captain to reward him for his years of ‘honourable service’.  “You be the most promising talent under this soldier’s command,” Bai Qi had said, his slim build and youthful features making him look younger than even Changgong. “Had I a thousand others just like you under my command, then we could usher in an age of peace unlike any the West had ever seen.”

A jarring statement to hear, for Changgong saw no such peace in sight, nor could he see a future in which any peace could be secured. The peace of oppression was no true peace at all, no different from the cruel injustice his father suffered at the hands of the merchants who all but owned them. Having grown older and wiser after seeing the world, he knew that his family had been slaves in everything besides name, ones free to do whatever they pleased so long as their master’s harsh demands were met. A province under the tyranny of Bai Qi’s rule would be no different, peaceful yes, in the sense that there would be no bandits or rebellions, but only because the remaining people of the West lacked the courage and strength to stand against him. Was it worth it, the exchange of freedoms for the sake of peace and prosperity? Having seen the thankless fate of most fisherfolk living under merchant rule, Changgong did not believe so.

Having found the courage to look back on his actions and see them for the sins they were, he was determined not to continue forwards on this path and set himself to task seeing Bai Qi brought to justice. The moment he learned enough characters to convey his message, Changgong penned an anonymous letter to the Disciplinary Corps detailing the atrocities committed under Bai Qi’s command. When this failed to elicit any sort of response, he sent copies of his letter to influential merchants, Officers, noble families, and anyone else he thought might care. Eventually, someone took notice of his efforts and brought it up to someone in the higher echelons of command, until it finally came to the attention of the local Magistrate who had Bai Qi drawn up on accusations of suspected Defilement. Changgong only learned of all this after the fact, as it’d all been handled quietly and nothing came of it save to bring him to Bai Qi’s attention, who not only emerged unscathed from the investigation, he also recognized the handwriting on the letter accusing him of all his misdeeds as the brushwork of one of his favoured Captains.

To his credit, Bai Qi didn’t retaliate against Changgong for raising his concerns in so cowardly a manner, and instead merely had him transferred into a different retinue after stating that their bond of trust was broken. Say what you will about the murderous bastard, but he dealt with his problems in a frank and forthright manner, and Changgong could respect that much at least, the one useful lesson he took away from his time serving under the future Lord of Martial Peace. Anything worth doing should be done in an open and aboveboard manner, because to do otherwise would be to admit shame in your actions. Changgong wanted Bai Qi to pay for his crimes, but in a public trial with the reason for his fall from grace known to all, so that others could learn from his terrible example.

Now, nearly fifty years later, Changgong scorned his younger self for not slitting the monster’s throat in his sleep.

For decades, they rose through the ranks as the most accomplished officers of their time, and though they never served in the same conflict together again, they were both accredited with bringing peace to the West. Changgong was always a step or two behind though, never quite able to match up with Bai Qi’s exploits even after taking into account their difference in age. The reason was simple: if you needed a soldier to fix a problem, like the rebel Magistrate of LuoYang or the ShaNan marauders, then Gao Changgong was the soldier to call on. However, he was merely the hammer with which to flatten any protruding nails, whereas Bai Qi’s methods offered lasting change and stability by ensuring every last nail was embedded so deeply they could never rise up again. He was a man who believed the ends justified the means, and so long as people had food and water a plenty, they should not mind the iron boot resting atop the necks.

Still, the results spoke for themselves and there were times when Changgong’s determination wavered as he saw the changes wrought by Bai Qi’s rise to prominence, for it was true that the West had never known such peace. Twenty years without an official rebellion, that was what Bai Qi’s supporters claimed of late, and it was true. No force had risen up to reject the rule of law in that time, but only because the Lord of Martial Peace responded to rumours of civil unrest with preemptive military action. The oppressed soon learned to keep their heads down and their mouths shut lest they receive a visit from one of Bai Qi’s loyal dogs. As an added effect, with no sieges to break, Changgong’s once ascendant career stalled at the rank of Major General as he served at the Western Wall for the better part of a decade, but he cared naught for fame or renown. All Changgong wanted was a Western Province in which the people had food and water enough to survive, and under Bai Qi, such a dream had been made possible, albeit in the worst of ways.

None of that mattered once the Western Wall fell to treachery and deceit, a failing Changgong took full responsibility for. Though he’d not been in command of the entire Wall, he gave the order to his fifty-thousand soldiers to withdraw instead of staying to stem the Defiled tide pouring through the breach. A gatehouse had fallen, faster than anyone believed possible, and a decision had to be made, but rather than set the example and pray his fellow commanders followed suit, Changgong placed his faith in the soldiers of the West rather than the Wall itself and brought his army away to fight another day. Two months they held in Shen Sha, the City of the Divine Sand, and when it became clear they could hold there no longer, he ensured that every last person under his protection was seen to safety before finally abandoning the city to the Enemy forces. He led the survivors north to the Defiled held coastal city of Taktala, where he freed the captured population and set fire to the ocean trawlers feeding their enemy combatants, while simultaneously plundering enough dried and salted rations to feed his forces for months. Even under Bai Qi’s rule, the West was never wholly settled, and Changgong’s people had plenty of shifting dunes, abandoned mines, and hidden oasis's to hide in while he and his soldiers went to ground while doing everything in their power to make the Enemy bleed for every step they took in the Western Province.

All the while holding out hope for the Lord of Martial Peace to make his presence known and drive the Defiled back from whence they came.

It was a strange sort of charm Bai Qi possessed, that of a fearsome, murderous beast, but one that ensured the overall stability of the West, which made him their beast, one to set loose against the true Enemy wreaking havoc in their lands. However, in all the months of hard-fought resistance, never once did Bai Qi make his presence known, nor did the Mataram Clan take action, for reasons that were obvious now. During those times however, Changgong crossed paths with other famed Warriors of the West and drew them to his banner, most notably the Thorny Desert Flower, Brigadier Leony of Lhatep, who devised the segregated structure of their resistance efforts before meeting her unfortunate demise at the hands of a Defiled hunting party. A grievous loss for the resistance, but he went to great lengths to spread tales of their victories as often as possible, whether it was something as minor as waylaying a shipment of weapons to a monumental success like freeing a garrison of captured soldiers.

Before the Defiled invasion, Changgong would’ve likely executed the lion’s share of Western soldiers currently serving under his command, but desperate times called for desperate measures, so he could only stay his hand. This wasn’t to say he welcomed every compromised Warrior with open arms, and over the months they uncovered more than one traitor hiding within their ranks, but thanks to Leony’s efforts, the damage any one traitor could do was limited to his or her own link in the chain. No one knew where any other group was hiding, not even Changgong himself, and they had designated meeting times and areas depending on a number of different factors involved. It made it difficult to coordinate any sort of large-scale response, but their goal was not to overthrow the Enemy themselves, but to survive until Imperial reinforcements arrived to cleanse the West of the Defiled taint.

But as the weeks, then months, then almost an entire year passed by, Changgong was forced to admit that help was not coming. There were rumours of the border being closed off and the West declared lost, but Changgong clung to hope and urged his people to do the same until Brigadier Shaoyi failed to report back from his mission to scout out their Defiled pursuers.

And so, for the umpteenth time in recent memory, Changgong gave the order for his people to withdraw, but this time, he meant to abandon the province for good, having long since made preparations should the worst have come to pass. His people were lucky enough to make contact with Healer Taokang Geyan, a good man and personal friend who’d been absent from the province when it fell. Through him, they learned of matters in outer provinces and the changes that had taken place since the Defiled invasion, but all Changgong wanted was a place where his people would be safe and fed. He’d been ready to sell his life for this, to swear an Oath of service and urge the soldiers under him to do the same, for over the course of his steadfast resistance, he’d gathered an elite fighting force the Empire had rarely ever seen, one which had been forged in the fires of this Defiled Tribulation to emerge stronger than ever before, a tempting prize for any ambitious Central noble with the power to take them in.

To his surprise, no such Oath was demanded, or even brought up, for soon, Geyan sent word of safety and shelter from the most unlikely of benefactors. Akanai of the Behkai, a half-beast Lieutenant General whom Changgong had never heard of, not before Geyan wrote a letter detailing the rise of young Falling Rain.

Now, being a Great General of no small fame himself, Changgong knew how rumours of a Warrior’s reputation could easily get away from the truth, and thus he thought it strange that the cynical and level-headed Taokang Geyan had bought into the obvious lies about this northern youth. A formidable military record on the front lines given his young age, and Geyan personally attested to the boy’s brilliant mind, but some of his titles were just too fanciful to believe. The Chosen Son of the Mother Above? The attendant to the Divine Guardian Turtle? An Imperial Scion by marriage to a concubine? Propaganda meant to stir up the hearts of simple folk and given them a future to believe in, but nothing more. What stood out most was how clever and experienced the boy appeared when it came to matters of military tactics, possessed with knowledge far beyond what one could learn from mere books and instruction. No, he had someone guiding him from the shadows and telling him what to do, as so many young ‘geniuses’ liked to do, but pride was a common failing for good reason.  Still, according to Geyan, it was the boy who argued against his Grand-Mentor Akanai to take the Western soldiers in, which Changgong believed meant the boy was also greedy and possessed delusions of grandeur as well as pride aplenty, since he wanted the Western soldiers and acted as if nothing could possibly go wrong. This worked to Changgong’s favour of course, though it seemed odd that the Bekhai made no demands for Oaths or even mentioned any sort of debt or repayment. Instead, they sent representatives to receive his people form the shores of the Azure Sea and provided them with food, clothing, and shelter while hiding their existence from the rest of the Empire.

With each passing day, Changgong watched his people reclaim their lives with help from the Bekhai, and as the debt grew beyond what even he and his army could repay, he worried the Bekhai would soon come calling for reparations. He did his best to keep up with new developments, but aside from Geyan and the Bekhai, he had no contacts with the outside world, and thus could not trust everything he heard from their letters and lips. Falling Rain had been crippled, was well on his way to recovery, had been made Legate despite his infirmity, and had amassed a fortune selling stamped papers of debt for more than the debt was worth, these were but the most far-fetched of rumours that Changgong could remember, and of the least interest. Far more compelling were the things few cared to ever mention, such as his schools and orphanages taking in children of all backgrounds and providing them with free beds, meals, and an education to boot, all at no cost to them. Then there was the matter of how well paid his soldiers were, a topic that came up often as the Bekhai Warriors were cut from the same cloth as soldiers found anywhere else in the Empire, and did so love to complain about anything and everything. Small wonder the soldiers of Falling Rain’s retinue would fight on the front lines consecutively for so many weeks, because they knew that their commander would not waste their lives frivolously and that their families would be well cared for should they ever fall.

The more Changgong learned about Falling Rain, the more interested he was in meeting the boy, yet despite all their supposed troubles, never once did the Bekhai call upon the Western soldiers to aid their personal cause. It wasn’t until after Huanhuzi emerged as a threat to SuiHua harbour and the entire Western Wall in turn that Falling Rain finally contacted them for assistance, which was hardly the personal favour Changgong expected. Even then, there was no talk of Oaths of slavery or even one of silence, just an apologetic letter asking for help from the Western soldiers who ‘had already given so much for their countrymen’. The boy was either a charitable fool or coached by the greatest politician in existence, for his actions had long since won him Changgong’s gratitude and that of the surviving people of the West.

Leading his soldiers to battle against Huanhuzi was hardly a matter for consideration, as he was happy for the opportunity to do so. He’d clashed with the canny half-badger many a time over the course of his career, and he was glad for the opportunity to do so again, even if he had to change his name. Gao Changgong was dead and gone now, and in his place stood Gao Liang, though he was still adjusting to the change so many months later. Unfortunately, due to injuries suffered during the withdrawal from Jianghu, It was only recently that he came to know Falling Rain on a more personal level, all while witnessing his miraculous recovery and meteoric rise firsthand. No longer did Changgong believe Falling Rain had someone guiding him from the shadows, for his plans wowed even his Mentor and Grand-mentor both despite being accomplished tacticians themselves. Even more impressive was how the boy progressed from comatose cripple to a full-fledged Martial Warrior far beyond any of his peers in strength and comprehension in a matter of weeks, a rising dragon unlike any ever before seen.

And now, Falling Rain had finally seen fit to call upon Changgong and the Warriors of the West again, not to fulfill any obligation or repay any debt owed, but because he trusted them to guard his back and do what was necessary to see their countrymen free from oppression. A worthy cause championed by a good man, Falling Rain was truly a rising dragon unlike any other.

After a brief meeting to discuss strategy, Changgong followed the Legate as he led a force of three-hundred Peak Experts away from LuZhou under the cover of night. Even though there were crowds of Peak Experts gathered in the three Citadels these days, it would be difficult for anyone else to command such formidable force to fight as a unit on the battlefield. As a rule, Peak Experts were a prideful bunch, and not without reason, but not only were Changgong’s hundred and eighty three Peak Experts wholly willing to follow the Legate’s commands without question, the Templar Aspirants were similarly devoted to Falling Rain and contributed fifty five Peak Experts to the cause, four and a half dozen more individuals than Changgong would’ve expected to find within their ranks. There were a myriad of minor forces scattered across the Azure Empire formed by a single Peak Expert alone, for it was better to be the head of a dog than the tail of a phoenix, yet the Confessor’s former spymaster had somehow managed to convince more than fifty of his lofty minded peers to support his cause, for no reward save unpaid service the Mother Above. Madness is what it was, but they would not betray Falling Rain, not like everyone suspected the Azure Ascendants would once matters grew dire. They were present too, a small faction of five Peak Experts or close enough to it. Six now, with former Corsair bandit leader Liu Gan having joined their ranks, but given the Tyrant’s absence, this made little different to their overall numbers.

The remaining numbers consisted of a mixture of Bekhai, Northern soldiers, Royal Guardians, Death Corps, and a single smiling monk who the Legate clearly didn’t want coming along, as well as the fearsome tiger Rakshasa whose status was similar to Bai Qi’s. The beast was a murderous monster, but one who would hopefully fight for them, so they would tolerate his presence for now. Changgong would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t looking forward to unleashing the beast against the Enemy, though the Legate’s wild plans left much to be desired. Despite the glaring flaws and multitude of ways things could go wrong however, Changgong was confident in their chances tonight, for despite starting off as a skeptic and doubter, he now truly believed the boy was Chosen by Heaven and the favoured son of the Mother Above, for nothing else could explain his luck and strength.

A common sight these days, the twenty-one year old Legate Cloud Stepping through the skies, usually with his ‘wifey’ in tow. In comparison, Changgong had been thirty five when he learned to Cloud Step, and forty when he mastered the skill well enough to avoid embarrassing himself in public. What’s more, after twenty plus years of further practice, his skills paled in comparison to the Legate’s flawless grace and refined elegance as they soared through the night’s sky. Where Changgong leaped from point to point like a farmer in a sack race, the Legate bounded along with effortless efficiency as if literally walking through the clouds themselves. This was true Cloud-Stepping, and anyone who believed differently was just plain wrong. Falling Rain possessed a mastery of the skill that few would ever match, not even after a lifetime of dedicated practice, and it came to him as naturally as breathing.

Noticing Changgong’s attention, the Legate glanced over with a raised eyebrow in silent question, one Changgong responded to with a grin and a gesture towards their differing strides. Catching onto his meaning, the Legate furrowed his brow and gave a little half shrug before Sending, “Envision your Lightening lifting you from below and pulling you up from above at the same time, two forces working in concert instead of just one bearing the full burden. At the same time, when jumping, there’s no need to put so much physical effort into it. The step portion of Cloud-Stepping lasts barely more than an instant, so the majority of your efforts are going to waste. Constrain the jumping to just your toes, feet, and ankles and release as much force as possible within a split second for smoother and more efficient trip.”

While it grated to be lectured by a boy young enough to be his great-grand child, Changgong’s pride was a small price to pay for the Legate’s Insights. It wasn’t as easy as the boy made it sound, but after a few minutes of travel, Changgong finally understood what to do and found that while he wasn’t moving any faster, his forward progress was much steadier than before. “This Gao thanks Legate for his guidance,” he Sent, truly grateful the young man would share his secrets so easily. “This Gao swears never to divulge this to another soul, so long as he should live.”

“Why not?” The quizzical Sending caught him off-guard as the Legate continued, “It’s no profound secret or anything, and it’s not like it’ll work for everyone. It helped you, which is great, so if you know anyone else in similar straits, don’t hesitate to share my advice.”

A marked difference from the mindset of most Imperial Nobles, as even the army guarded its secrets jealously. Not so with the Legate, who shared teachings and information as if they had no value whatsoever, or rather as if everyone was entitled to learn. An odd attitude considering how carefully he guarded himself against threat, as one would expect him to hide everything regarding his methods to keep his enemies from learning how to counter them. Instead, he practised out in the open where anyone could see him and happily explained his thought process to anyone who cared enough to ask, and sometimes even to those who couldn’t be bothered to listen. The Dao was largely personal to each and every Martial Warrior, but the Legate was determined to simplify it into something anyone could understand, a dream which made Changgong wonder just how far this young man could truly see.

Young Rain reminded him of himself, and Bai Qi as well, possessing the latter’s decisive nature and unshakable determination to do what was necessary for the greater good while maintaining his empathy and compassion for the common man. If only Bai Qi could have retained his humanity in a similar manner, or perhaps Changgong was to blame, for he never took the effort to explain why he disagreed with his former commander’s vision. Could they have changed things for the better working together? Difficult to say either way, but Bai Qi was beyond all redemption now, and Changgong prayed he would find cause to bring the traitor to justice on this day.

It didn’t take long for Sha Meng harbour to come into view, less than half-an-hour of Cloud-Stepping in total, and the Legate had them stop a good distance away to rest and give time for his spies and scouts to assess the situation. The reports soon came back indicating that the inhabitants were in poor condition, but mercifully still alive unlike the unfortunates back in LuZhuo. Seeing the remains of his fellow countrymen used to create such a grotesque spectacle almost broke the young Legate, and truth be told, it almost broke Changgong himself, because he’d been foolish enough to believe in the Legate’s naive aspirations of saving the people of the West at minimal cost. No, better to accept that the fighting would be bloody indeed, with death tolls in the millions when factoring in civilian casualties. A hefty butcher’s bill to pay, but so long as they drove the Enemy from the West, then it would be well worth the cost.

A mindset which ironically was similar to Bai Qi’s attitude wherein the ends justified the means. By doing this, Changgong was consigning millions of his countrymen to their deaths, but the difference was that under Defiled rule, they were dead either way, and at least this way, he could save a fraction of those poor souls.

The scouts’ reports continued to filter in over the next hour, and they painted an increasingly grim scene. Aside from the twenty-thousand estimated prisoners housed inside the fort, one sturdier and better built than LuZhuo as it was built by Imperial hands to combat pirates and bandits alike, there were at least eight-thousand Defiled stationed in and around the harbour, a pittance compared to the fleet anchored in LuZhuo, but far more than three-hundred Peak Experts could manage with ease. While a single soldier was supposedly worth ten Defiled, and a Peak Expert worth a hundred Defiled, this assumed the Imperial soldiers were holding a defensible position against tribal savages, not assaulting a fortified encampment full of disciplined soldiers clad in Runic Armour, to say nothing of the Enemy Peak Experts or Demons lying in wait. What’s more, not every Peak Expert could match the likes of Bai Qi, Nian Zu, Du Min Gyu, or Mitsue Juichi, able to kill dozens with a simple wave of the hand. Peak Experts were faster and stronger than your average Warrior, but on a battlefield, individual strength mattered less than overall coordination, and Peak Experts held no advantages there besides an abundance of experience accrued over a lifetime of trials and tribulations. Even if the odd were more in their favour, losing a single Peak Expert to eliminate a mere three-thousand Chosen would make for a poor trade, given how it generally took the better part of four decades to replace a Peak Expert, to say nothing of the vast luck, effort, and natural talent required, as opposed to the mere seconds it took to ‘train’ a generic Defiled Warrior. Were there maybe half as many Defiled, an argument could have been made to whittle the Enemy numbers down by striking hard and fading away, tactics favoured by bandits and pirates both, but unless they could identify the Enemy Peak Experts by sight, then Changgong was in favour of lying in wait to observe the situation while the fleet made its way over, but the Legate seemed determined to make a play tonight, as he ordered his scouts to focus on uncovering the enemy positions above all else.”

“Split into groups of five and maintain Concealment as you surround the harbour fort,” the Legate Sent, dispatching these same orders to the rest of his command cadre once he had all the information he needed. “Avoid direct engagements and pick off the Enemy while they run.” Defiled? Run? Even tribal sorts were not so cowardly as to flee from a force ten times smaller, even one comprised solely of Peak Experts. No, the orders stated to remain in Concealment, so how did the Legate expect to make the Enemy flee? “Gao Liang, you’re with me,” the Legate continued, flashing a strained smile as he Sent, “Pass the word along that discretion is the better part of valour. I know you and yours are eager for vengeance, but you’ll kill no more Defiled once you’re dead. Better to kill ten today and spend the rest of your life fighting than to slaughter thirty or forty before falling.”

Warmed by the young man’s sentiment more than he was annoyed by the disrespect, Changgong swallowed what he wanted to say about teaching one’s grandpa to butcher hogs. “By your will, Legate.”

As the Peak Experts broke off and moved into place, Falling Rain Cloud-Stepped out over the water to stand atop the natural harbour wall, an outcropping of stone and coral that forced incoming ships to gather at the mouth of the bay and enter one by one after making a sharp, ninety degree turn on the approach. The natural wall also made for the perfect vantage point to take in the harbour and ramshackle fort, which was likely why the Legate chose to stand here, but it left him exposed and vulnerable should the Enemy discover his position. Thankfully, Falling Rain was not so foolish as to come out here alone, as accompanying him were his Death Corps Guards, Imperial Protectors, Bekhai Khishigs, and Templar assassins, as well as the solitary smiling monk and the tiger beside him. Despite harbouring many doubts regarding the wisdom behind these actions, Changgong knew the time for discussion had long since passed. Even a bad decision was better than sitting around arguing in the field, especially considering they risked discovery with each passing second. Besides, the young Legate had enough people second guessing his decisions, so Changgong was content to advise only when asked and serve in whatever capacity was necessary, which meant keeping Falling Rain safe and sound. Losing three-hundred Peak Experts would make for a disastrous start to the campaign, but it would be nothing compared to losing the Legate himself, for upon his broad shoulders sat the hopes of a free West, a hope that would die alongside him, binding the surviving Warriors of the West to his cause more tightly than any Oath ever could.

Unfortunately, much like Bai Qi, the Legate was not a man to do things by half-measures, for as soon as he received word that his troops were in place, he ordered the torches lit and dropped his Concealment before Changgong could interject. “This is Legate Falling Rain,” the boy declared, bold as could be. “I have come to demand your surrender. Lay down your arms and your lives will be spared. Resist or harm an innocent, and your lives are forfeit.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “So long as no one is killed during the wait, you have five minutes to comply before I sound the attack.”

The balls on this boy, to use his own presence as a bluff to make the Enemy think twice, but while the Defiled were a great many unpleasant things, cowards they were not. The Legate’s warning only served to give them enough time to move out to the walls and ready a defence, but despite the obvious refusal, Falling Rain stood tall and proud out in plain sight as the Enemy readied for battle. If the opposing commander had half a brain, he would know that the Legate could only have gotten here so quickly by Cloud-Stepping over in haste, meaning he would only be accompanied by Peak Experts. As such, the smart thing to do was to hold position and wait for Enemy Peak Expert reinforcements to  arrive, and it seemed as if he was preparing to do just that.

“Five minutes are up,” the Legate declared, accurate to the second by Changgong’s count, and he readied his staff to defend the boy with his life. “By your actions, I can only assume you are rejecting my offer of surrender?” The Enemy forces jeered and crowed in response, and several screams rang out as Imperial citizens were thrown to their deaths with a sickening splat on the jagged rocks below. Stifling a sigh, the Legate lowered his head in regret and raised his hand to signal the attack. For a split second, Changgong wondered if the Legate wanted the gathered Peak Experts to storm the walls in a battle of three-hundred against eight-thousand, but then the Heavens roared with righteous fury and shook the world around him. No, not the Heavens, but the Legate’s Runic Cannons, the dragon-shaped tubes launching heavy iron spheres from the left and right flanks of the fort. There was no earth-shattering rumble as the walls came apart, but instead, a chorus of screams rose up as Defiled died in droves atop the battlements to the cannonballs which had been aimed lengthwise along the wall to maximize the casualties.

The Azure Ascendants unveiled five Runic Cannons during the siege of Central’s Citadel, and they used them here again to great effect, but standing alongside them in the air were three figures whose leather armour identified them as Bekhai Khishigs, Two gold-furred half-monkeys with irascible smiles flanked a hulking, one-eyed half-bear whose rage and fury was fearsome to behold, and together with the Azure Ascendants, they loaded their cannons and fired again, the second volley arriving mere seconds after the first. The heavy weapons belched solid death and rendered Defiled Warriors into meat paste with a spray of blood, and then they did so again, and again, and again, firing at a rate of perhaps one shot every three seconds. Changgong had seen the weapons at work during the siege and thought them a powerful tool, but here atop the close confines of the fort wall, they were nigh unmatched in sheer, destruction power.

The Defiled broke in less than a minute, screaming and shrieking in abject terror as they threw themselves from the walls, with many following the unfortunate prisoners to their inevitable deaths on the jagged rocks below. Some survived the drop, but only just, and Changgong derived no pleasure in seeing the ‘fearless’ Defiled drag their broken bodies through the rocks and sand in a desperate attempt to find shelter from the explosions above. The majority kept a cooler head, or at the very least retained enough survival instincts not to risk a nigh fatal drop in order to avoid near certain death, but they did not stop running once they were inside the fort. To them, the sturdy stone walls no longer offered any protection and instead had become the cage they would die in, so they fled the walls without thinking twice and scattered across the sandy dunes, where the waiting Peak Experts picked them off with ease. “Send word to let a few escape,” the Legate declared. “So they can spread word about what happened here to the cities inland and bring hope to those who still endure.”

“And if they set a trap for your at the next harbour?” Changong asked, “Or Heaven forbid, slaughter the captives and withdraw entirely?” A price he was willing to pay, but would still rather avoid if possible.

“Then we’ll deal with it as it comes, though ideally I’d like to attack the next harbour within the hour.” Eyes narrowed in muted dissatisfaction, he had the look of a man about to put down his favourite camel, an unpleasant task, but a necessary one given the circumstances. Most would have relished the bloodshed, like Akanai’s cannon wielding husband up on the battlements, but not the young Legate. He’d known suffering enough to derive no pleasure from it, or at least, so Changgong believed until the boy’s eyes lit up in delight. “Demon birth,” he exclaimed, with all the excitement of a child catching sight of his favourite sweets. “Come with me so we can kill it before it escapes.”

A strange man, this Legate Falling Rain, mourning the death of Defiled while celebrating the birth of a Demon, a fate far worse than death. No matter though, because Changgong had sworn to serve the young Legate, and would march headlong into the Father’s Maw with but a single command.

Not without hesitation of course, but he’d do it regardless, because if anyone could bring them back out alive, it would be Falling Rain, Chosen Son of the Mother.