Chapter 821 (Patreon)

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Death.

The natural consequence pertaining to the interruption of all organic functions which sustains a living creature’s life. An end all mortals feared, but also a new beginning which signalled the transition from one life to the next. There was no life without death, no light without shadow, no beginning without an end, no love without hatred, for everything within existence had its place within the grand Balance of the Heavens.

But this death brought no peaceful respite or blissful oblivion with it, only an all-encompassing awareness of the vast nothingness. Not the seemingly empty darkness of the Void, teeming with life if one knew what to look for, nor was it the shadowy obscurity of lacking light, so full of information so long as one could parse it. No, this nothingness was more lacking and more complete without crossing over into the realm of utter nihility, for the darkness was merely one facet of this hollow subsistence. There was no sensation of restraint or paralysis, no gag or earplugs to hinder him, only a general sense of disembodiment as if he had a body which could not move and a voice which could not scream as he sank into a stifling silence so complete that it echoed within the confines of his limited consciousness. There was no chill or heat, no weight bearing down on him or surface upon which he lay, no ravenous predators lurking about or existence-ending entities peering through the cracks of reality. There was no one and nothing, a dearth of sensation that overran and underwhelmed every non-existent fibre of his being to the point where he could neither face it nor ignore it and sink into a senseless sleep.

There was a time when he believed himself an authority on matters of torment, an artist whose canvas lay upon the human body, mind, and spirit, but he knew now that his understanding of true anguish was woefully lacking. In life, he was but a frog stuck in a well, unable to comprehend the vastness of the Heavens, but in death, he saw further than he ever thought possible. The still, senseless silence drove him half-mad, and his frantic mental efforts to escape brought him the rest of the way. He yearned to see, to hear, to feel, to be, but all this was denied him no matter how much he wished otherwise. He scoured the darkness in search of contrast, perhaps an area of more darkness or less, strained against his absent constraints in an effort to perceive them, scoured his every sensation in hopes of feeling cold, pain, discomfort, anything. Only now did he realize how full of sound and sensation life truly was, the information all present but filtered out by the human brain, and he yearned to feel even a tenth of that once more. The steady beating of his heart sending blood circulating throughout his body, the rise and fall of his chest as he drew breath air into his lungs, the smell of sweat and skin and Heavens knows what else that he once considered ‘odourless’, all this and more was but a faint memory that he knew would forever be denied him, which only made him crave it that much more.

In his desperation to see, to hear, to feel again, he clung fast to the last memory he experienced, seemingly the only memory he could conjure up in mind. Rage and desperation consumed him as his heart pounded in his chest, his body weary and mind frayed as he sought to make sense of the madness. There was so much pain and humiliation, sensations he once would have scorned and thrown away lest they topple him from the Razor’s Edge, but now he savoured and relished it. Time was meaningless here in the darkness, for he had no means to track it, but even this first moment of his last memory was enough to sustain him for what felt like an eternity within the nothingness.

And when his interest waved, he moved on to the next moment and indulged for as long as he could, and then the next, and the next, and the next.

Disbelief. Despair. Dismay. All this and more he experienced once again, his last moments in life turned into the only safeguard he possessed against the all-encompassing madness of the empty nothingness. He saw Falling Rain with a smug, self-satisfied smile etched across his hateful face, celebrating his near victory secured in complete defiance of the odds. The First Movement of the Water Dragon Forms, a self-created style that blended swordsmanship with elemental control, a most fearsome combination indeed. Try as he might, he was unable to see through the secrets of the boy’s actions, but not because he was lacking comprehension in life. No, he possessed faint memories of understanding what he watched unfold, of analyzing how the boy’s Water Chi and Sword Force melded together to become something more than the sum of their parts, yet try as he might, he was unable to add to those memories, for he lacked the capability to do so. All he could do was reflect on what he’d seen and perceived, as if he were merely a blank slate witnessing memories which were not his.

A realization which would have terrified him if not for the fact that he was unable to feel fear, or joy, anger, sorrow, regret, or any other emotion. He knew them well enough, could associate them with a faint recollection of some memory hidden within the murky recesses of his existence, but to feel it himself? This was beyond him, the same way he was unable to move or speak, his existence limited to only memories and nothing else. A part of him wanted to reflect on this newfangled information, to test his limits and learn more about the circumstances of his existence, but even this was beyond him in a way he could not entirely understand. All he could do was give himself over to his memories once more, where he spent countless lifetimes watching Falling Rain. The Second Movement of the Water Dragon Forms was a counter, one he threw himself upon without thinking, an act which he regretted almost instantly as he realized Falling Rain had been stringing him along. The rage, the shame, the regret, the desperation, he drank it all in like a finely aged wine and savoured it until it lost all meaning, leaving him no choice but to progress along his all-too limited memory.

He knew what awaited him at the end. Death and nothingness, a state which he cared not to return to, so he did everything he could to stretch out what few experiences he had left, hinging everything on hopes and prayers that there would be something, anything at the end of it all.

Certain death plummeted down from on high, but in his despair, he caught a brief wisp of something all-too familiar, a faint hint of intimate contempt and personal loathing that overwhelmed him even in recollection. This was a hatred which spoke to the very core of his existence, faint and limited though it might be, and it set him into a spiralling frenzy of activity as he sought out the source of this antipathy. It spoke to him, called to him, drove him to take action where none were possible before, need overcoming inability in a way he could not wholly understand. There was no sense of motion, no clue or scent to follow, no path laid out before him or siren call guiding him along, but he pursued the source of his enmity all the same through the boundless darkness of his entire existence. How long he sustained this chase was impossible to say, but it felt like an eternity in a moment, brief and everlasting, exhausting and invigorating. There was no impression of progression as he traversed through the darkness, but he knew he was drawing ever closer to his destination, a prospect which sparked no joy, anger or any emotion in between, but merely satisfied his need to seek out the source of his hatred.

And when he finally found it, his senses returned in full force, drowning him in a deluge of emotions and awareness that threatened to unmake him once more.

A lesser man would have succumbed here and now, given into emotion and been lessened for it, but he clung fast to his core precepts even when he could not remember what they were. Weakness was to be scorned, for only the strong survive, and he was still strong of will if nothing else. He steadied his breathing though he knew he possessed no lungs, revelled in the chill which ran through him even as he came to terms with the truth, one which was disheartening when viewed from the perspective of how far he’d fallen, but encouraging when compared to how far he’d come since. Death was merely a new beginning, and as he stood now, he was already a step ahead of most, for though Falling Rain had separated this Sovereign’s head from his neck, he still had his foundation built upon millennia of studies and experiences.

So what if he had no corporeal form to inhabit? He would find a new one soon enough, some unsuspecting babe still growing in the womb of his mother whose existence this Sovereign would snuff out and supplant. It would be dangerous without control of the Spectres, for they would see him as prey and sustenance both, but this Sovereign still possessed the strength and wit to defend himself. Opening his eyes, he drank in the sight of his spectral form and adjusted to these long-forgotten sensations once more, thankful for the silence of the Void which enabled him to slowly acclimate one sense at a time. His fingers were thin, knobbled, and translucent, but an effort of Will saw them regain their youth and solidity once more, and he gazed upon the smooth, slender hands of his nascent immortal form. The term opened the floodgates to a torrent of self-derision, for this so-called immortal had died at the hands of a veritable child, but immortality was not the same as invulnerability. As a nascent immortal, his body still required food, water, and rest, but would merely age even slower than a Human Divinity. A benefit of touching upon the secrets of True Divinity, the hidden Laws of Life and Death themselves which superseded all other laws of the mortal world.

Perhaps there was fortune to be found within this disaster, a lesson to be gleaned from his disgrace. This Sovereign had always been driven to avoid death at all cost, but now that it was here, his existence was in no way hindered by his lack of a corporeal husk to inhabit. Now, he existed solely as a soul and nothing more, yet he found that his thoughts and memories were not adversely affected, though he suspected he might not notice even if they were. Something to keep in mind and study later, but if the downsides were so minor and negligible, who was to say he needed a body at all?

Interesting as this line of reasoning might be, he knew now was not the time for idle deliberation, for he sensed his most hated foe looming over him in the Void. Raising his head from his hands, this Sovereign discovered himself kneeling before the dog Emperor, who sat upon his Natal Throne within his courtly Natal Palace. The throne was a familiar one, a regal jade seat from which the Emperor reigned supreme, both here in the Void and back home in the East, but it was not merely an object to rest one’s rear on. It was a Dharmic Icon of the highest significance, for all who saw it knew that it represented the highest Authority beneath the Heavens. The solid gold feet covered in a dense engraving of runes, the slim, curved legs fashioned in the image of clouds, the life-like Dragon and Phoenix armrests, the solid, high-backed support, all of it put together presented a firm and unyielding image of the Emperor in court, whether he occupied the seat or not. Of course, here in his Natal Palace, the Emperor would never dare rise from his throne, for court was always in session, one attended by the souls of every ill-fated simpleton who accepted this most ‘prestigious’ title since the founding of the Azure Empire, all stood in neat little rows to either side of Ying Zheng’s throne.

Why? Because contrary to what most believed, one could not inherit the title of Emperor. One could only seize it, and even with a new claimant to the throne rising up to challenge him every fifty years, there had only ever been one true Emperor of the Azure Sea. Not all were prospective Emperors however, as the Emperor’s thirst for knowledge was endless and unquenchable. For this reason, joining them were the souls of the standout talents from every generation, Warriors, poets, artists, Divine Blacksmiths, Runic craftsmen and more, all taken so that he could peruse their thoughts and view their perspectives for himself. These unfortunate souls knew not the monster they faced in life and were chained in death to never escape his grasp, and now he no doubt sought to add this Sovereign to their ranks.

“Ying Zheng.” His words echoed through the Void as he uttered the name of his archnemesis, and the sound surprised even him, but he kept his calm as he came to his feet. “So we meet again.” Casting a contemptuous gaze at the chained soul kneeling at his side, this Sovereign laughed at the fate of the current ‘Emperor’, who surprisingly glared back in vehement hatred. So he still retained consciousness even after so many years, almost four decades of serving at the True Emperor’s feet. How impressive, but a strong worm was still a worm in the end. “Still keeping up with this farce, are we? Ruling from behind the eyes of your puppets?”

Ying Zheng gave no answer save to glower at this Sovereign, and he felt a pang of fear and shame both. It wasn’t fear of reprisal, but fear of having disappointed his foe, of having fallen this far before even exchanging blows. A true humiliation, but one this Sovereign could not escape, for the truth could not be denied any longer. Falling Rain had defeated him, this much was fact, so it no longer mattered if it was this Sovereign’s hubris which led to it. In the annals of history, you either conquered or were conquered, and this Sovereign had fallen far short, but his story would not end here today.

…But why? Why was this Sovereign so sure that his foe would spare him, so certain that his existence had not come to an end just yet? Overthrowing the Emperor had been his life’s goal, to bring Ying Zheng to ruin and supplant him as Emperor himself, yet this Sovereign sensed no enmity from his foe, no hostility or ill-will whatsoever. In fact, now that he thought about it, his foe had saved him from oblivion and nihility both, spurred his awareness back from the edge of nothingness to pluck him from the cycle of reincarnation once more. Why? Ying Zheng had to know there was no chance of reconciliation between them, no way this Sovereign would ever be turned to his cause, yet he’d done it regardless at no small cost either.

How did this Sovereign know about the cost? Or about Ying Zheng’s actions? This was not ascertained from his recollection of events, nor was it inferred from any clues or signs given away. This Sovereign simply knew this to be true, the information appearing within his consciousness without need for thought or deliberation. Was this the beginnings of Ying Zheng’s attack upon this Sovereign’s free Will? Did Ying Zhen mean to transform this Sovereign into one of the countless puppets lining either side of his court? Or perhaps he intended to add a sixth guardian to stand behind him, looming in the shadows on the outskirts of the Natal Palace and instantly recognizable as the souls of the Ancestors of the Supreme Families enslaved in life and made to serve even in death.

…Wait. How did he know this? He hadn’t, not yesterday when he was making his plans regarding where to proceed next. If he’d known Ying Zheng still possessed these Supreme Warriors, the generals who helped him conquer the Empire to begin with, then this Sovereign would never have dared act so soon with such lacking strength. Ying Zhen was a fastidious and meticulous man who would’ve long since uncovered the secrets hidden within his five Generals, meaning his strength might well have long since surpassed all of them combined, or at least, his ability should be equal if not superior. In contrast, this Sovereign was barely able to match this generation’s Divine True Warrior, one Liang Wu Di who forced him to work alongside him in his schemes to unite the outer provinces. A tiresome affair, but one this Sovereign had no choice but to play along with, lest the dog Emperor become aware of his presence too early, but now, this Sovereign suspected even another ten-thousand years might not be enough time to prepare against his most hated foe.

Most infuriating of all? The frustration and disappointment still emanating from the Emperor, which made this Sovereign’s failures feel that much more disheartening. Ying Zhen had been waiting all this time for a worthy foe to test his might against, but this Sovereign had fallen before even seeing the Eastern Province once more.

“So… this is awkward.”

The emotive declaration filled this Sovereign with confused embarrassment, but the source came not from himself. No, it was the speaker who felt these emotions and was Orating them for all to share, as if to further shame this Sovereign. Turning to glare at the source of this disquiet, he found Falling Rain standing defensively just beyond arms reach, but still within a single step. Clad in Imperial Runic Armour festooned with turtles, bears, wildcats, rabbits, and other depictions of all his pets, the boy finally looked the part of a formidable Warrior, his sword and shield ready in hand while emanating with a piercing and dangerous light, the same light which exploded from his sword when he destroyed this Sovereign’s Dharmic Robes. The threat was palpable to behold, but this Sovereign felt no alarm or fear, for he knew the Emperor would settle things soon enough.

“I feel like I’m intruding on an intimate moment,” the boy continued, glancing at this Sovereign, then Ying Zheng, then around at the souls of puppets past, all the while warily withdrawing without moving a single step out of place. The Emperor’s work that, anchoring the boy in space here in his Natal Palace, so try as he might, Falling Rain would never get away.

This Sovereign took pride in that statement, though he knew not why, but the Emperor left him no time to consider it. “Silence.” The command echoed throughout the court and struck this Sovereign like a hammer blow, but he dared not even gasp as the Compulsion settled upon him.

A fearsome working of Heavenly Energy upon which Ying Zheng built his empire, but while it similarly settled around Falling Rain, he shook free of its constraints without even trying. “No seriously, you two look like you have a lot to talk about, so why don’t I just get out of your hair and leave you to hash it out. Believe you me, schizophrenia is some serious stuff, so you should definitely have this talk sooner rather than later. Doesn’t matter how, though I suspect a battle-royale would be fastest, a whole last soul standing sort of deal. Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy.”

The boy continued rambling on in spite of Ying Zheng’s Compulsion, and this Sovereign soon discovered how. It wasn’t that the boy had willfully disobeyed the spoken command, but rather he was incapable of compliance. His nervous, nonsensical nattering was merely a reflex he had little to no control of, which explained much regarding his history of willful disobedience. It was in Falling Rain’s nature to blather meaningless nonsense while reflecting on meaningless images, a self-inflicted obsession that overruled any Compulsion Ying Zheng could impose.

They both arrived at this conclusion at the same time, but it was this Sovereign who spoke first, taking great delight in Falling Rain’s plight even if his own circumstances were no better. “So you seek to be the fisherman, benefitting whilst snipe and clam fight, but you are better suited to be the cicada, unaware of the mantis and oriole lurking in wait behind.”

The boy’s confusion was palpable to behold, his culturally deficient upbringing failing to parse together the two idioms contained within this Sovereign’s jeer, but Falling Rain was never one to let ignorance stop him. “Sure thing,” he replied, lacking any surety at all, “Whatever man. I’m just like, a guy, okay? One who wants nothing to do with this freaky-deaky psyche gangbang party you got going on here, okay? I’m flattered you invited me, but no means no. Many people are saying this.”

The boy made absolutely no sense, and this Sovereign knew not how to respond, but Falling Rain seemed content to continue speaking as if simply to hear the sound of his own voice. “Look Zhen Shi,” he began, but oddly enough, he’d directed his attention towards Ying Zhen upon the throne while ignoring this Sovereign outright, “You clearly have a lot going on here, but you know as well as I do that I can hurt you even here. I might not be able to kill you outright, but I doubt you can afford to contend against me and the Emperor both at the same time.” Glancing around at the audience of former Emperors, each one just as regal and overbearing as the last, Falling Rain added, “And I dunno who all these guys are, but I bet they’d love to be set free too.”

A twinge of horror and delight coursed through this Sovereign as he realized the implications of the boy’s statement. Ying Zheng felt it too and his caution grew heavy and distinct, for prior to this very moment, he’d been unaware of what took place in this Sovereign’s Natal Palace, when Falling Rain dealt him a blow which shook his foundation to the core. If the boy could do the same here, then Ying Zheng’s foundation would be similarly damaged and the enslaved souls set free, leading to chaos and carnage as they rebelled against an Emperor who’d ruled over them since time immemorial.

An outcome which could only benefit this Sovereign, so he was at a loss to explain why he spurred himself to action, joining his Will to Ying Zheng’s to hold the boy in place by virtue of their Authority. A fruitless endeavour, for as the boy declared earlier, his Domain exists wherever his sword could reach, a truth he made evident as he Manifested his Domain and shook off their Authority with little more than an effort of Will. Oddly enough, he made no move to strike and merely guarded himself closely while watching this Sovereign closely. “Okay, so maybe not you,” the boy conceded, and it took a moment to realize he was referring to this Sovereign’s desire to be free, which was laughable considering he was no slave. “But the rest of these souls don’t look all that happy to be here, especially the chained Emperor over there.”

Then it all finally came together and made sense once more, for the boy had yet to discern the truth. He thought the Emperor he faced in reality was the chained soul kneeling at Ying Zheng’s feet, but he was merely the original owner of the body they currently inhabited, one Liang Wu Sheng. The details flit through this Sovereign’s mind in an instant as he was made aware of the circumstances, how Liang Wu Di noticed the startling change in his brother upon taking up the mantle of Emperor. Such were the risks when possessing a new body, but a necessary one to ensure stability within the Empire. Alas, this Liang Wu Di was a Talent rarely seen, one who progressed along his Path with startling speed to uncover Ying Zheng’s hidden secret, but it mattered not. Ruling the Azure Empire had long since lost its lustre and he was ready to take the next step, but his initial plan had fallen apart due to the meddling of one Falling Rain.

Seeing how no one cared to engage him in conversation, the boy continued to speak out loud, no doubt voicing his thoughts to better process them. “I don’t give a shit who sits on the throne,” he began, buying time to build up strength with a Mountain Collapsing Sword Strike infused with Intent and Water Chi both. Another movement of the Water Dragon Forms no doubt, one this Sovereign was not inclined to meet head on, but he stayed his hand in spite of this. Better to hear what the boy had to say, because while he thought time on his side, Ying Zheng had Liang Wu Sheng’s soul firmly under control, the same as every other soul within his Domain. “You guys are free to hash that out,” Falling Rain continued, slowly backing away from them both even as the Five Supreme Ancestors encircled him from behind. “So long as the Imperial Army or Defiled forces don’t come a-knocking, we can just let bygones be bygones. I don’t even care to interfere with the politics of the outer provinces, or want anything to do with whatever Liang Wu Di and his cronies have cooked up. I just want to go home to the mountains and live out a nice, peaceful life with my family and loved ones.”

“Peace?” Ying Zheng’s informal tone struck this Sovereign like a spear to the spine, and he retreated to one side to watch the boy and Emperor both. Neither one was his ally, but rather his enemy, one powerful, the other unfathomable, but enemies all the same. Perhaps he should warn the boy about the encroaching Supreme Ancestors, but even as this Sovereign opened his mouth to speak, Ying Zheng’s focus fell upon him and the Compulsion took effect and silenced him once more. “You think to negotiate with this Sovereign?” Ying Zheng scoffed at the boy’s gall, which was considerable to the extreme, and it gave this Sovereign some small measure of comfort to not be the target of Falling Rain’s antics for once. “The dragon does not negotiate with prey. Whether this Sovereign grants death or mercy is up to fate. Humanity endures by this Sovereign’s benevolence alone, and so too shall they fall without it.”

“Psh.” A scoff of derision like no other, it was enough to set this Sovereign’s anger ablaze, but the boy paid him no mind and focused solely on Ying Zheng instead. “Yea right. C’mon now. Let’s be realistic. Your head is currently stuck face down in the sand, so let’s not overstate your position. Sure, you got the Emperor by the shorthairs, but as far as I can tell, he already abdicated the throne to Liang Wu Di, so even if you take him over, he’s useless. I don’t know how you pulled this army of Natal Souls out of your ass, but believe me when I say they are more trouble than it’s worth. I’ve clearly already fallen out with Liang Wu Di, meaning my only recourse is to retreat from Central, so how about you let me go collect my family and be a distraction to the new Emperor? What do you say, Zhen Shi? We have a deal?”

Unable to hold his ire any longer, this Sovereign broke free of Ying Zheng’s Compulsion with a heated snarl. “Foolish worm,” he declared, even as he struggled against his fated foe’s control. “You are not even speaking to the right person. I am Zhen Shi, and he is Ying Zheng, the Emperor you just saw cede the throne. The soul who resembles the Emperor you saw is but a puppet under his control, so do you now see the folly of your attempted negotiation?”

“Oh.” Rather than surprise and dismay, the boy’s expression was one of confusion that then turned to comprehension followed by pity as he took in this Sovereign before him. “Oh! Okay then. I get it. The Nile ain’t just a river, and you are deep in it.” A nonsensical statement that this Sovereign could not parse, but the boy continued with little more than a minor pause. “Hmm. Listen close. This is probably going to come as a shock to you –”

“Hold. Your. Tongue!”

Ying Zheng’s Compulsion struck with the force of a charging elephant, but the boy barely even noticed it as the corner of his lips turned up in a smile, so pleased to defy authority as per usual. “Zhen Shi, I need you to take a look at him,” the boy began, pointing at Ying Zheng upon his throne before moving his hand to point at this Sovereign in turn. “Then take a good look at yourself.”

Unable to stop himself, this Sovereign turned his eyes towards Ying Zheng and saw the displeasure in his expression, one entwined with resignation as their eyes met across the way. “Look at him,” the boy said, his voice taking on an almost hypnotic tone. “Now back to you. Now back to him. Now back to you.” This Sovereign saw it and his knees buckled in place, but the boy would not leave him to his despair in peace. “Sadly, he is you, and you are he, but if you stopped using ladies scented body wash –”

“Enough.”

For the third time, Ying Zheng’s Compulsion failed to still Falling Rain’s tongue, but the interruption bought this Sovereign time enough to speak. “Impossible,” he whispered, even as he gazed upon his own face, one worn by his most hated enemy. “This cannot be. This must be a trick.”

“Illusion, Zhen Shi,” Falling Rain unhelpfully supplied, adding, “A trick is something a whore does for money.”

The casual disregard and cruel amusement combined with this earth-shaking revelation was almost enough to unravel this Sovereign from head to toe, but Ying Zheng shot him a glance and said, “Compose yourself.” Not a Compulsion, for this Sovereign would have resisted one on instinct, but a reminder which made too much logical sense to ignore, “And remember.”

“No, no, lemme guess first,” the boy interjected, unwilling to give this Sovereign even a scrap of mercy. “I think I have it all figured out, which is rare, so hear me out.” Pointing at this Sovereign, the boy said, “You must be a Natal Soul. Or maybe a soul divided. Two parts of a whole, separated for who knows what reasons.” Turning to Ying Zheng, the boy cocked his head and continued, “If he’s telling the truth you’re the Emperor, then… boredom maybe? What? Things going too smoothly during your reign and you needed to manufacture more suffering to pass the days?”

Paying the boy no mind, Ying Zheng commanded this Sovereign’s attention with his eyes alone. “Two parts of a whole,” he began, repeating what the boy said. “Two sides of the coin. Since time immemorial, this Sovereign has pursued the Path of Balance to the greatest of heights, only to find the way forward obstructed.”

“So this Sovereign sought to study the other side of the coin,” Zhen Shi continued, the memories resurfacing after having been buried for so long. A necessary burial, for only then could he remove all knowledge of his previous Path and see his new Path with fresh, untainted eyes. In order to do this, he had to die and be reborn anew, hence his name, True Corpse, an unfettered soul inhabiting a body which should have long since died alongside its original soul.

“And it took you eight-hundred years to get this far?” Once again, the boy knew just what to say and how to say it to infuriate this Sovereign to no end, his derision and contempt made crystal clear by tone and posture alone. It stung even more knowing it’d taken much longer than eight centuries, but he was not one to expose his own cheek to be slapped. “Honestly, I could think of many better ways to study the Defiled without having to lead them into a war against the Empire.”

“A premise must be proven before it can be of any use.” A concept so familiar that it took this Sovereign a moment to notice he had not been the one to voice it, but rather Ying Zheng. His gaze continued to command this Sovereign’s attention, mostly to ward off the boy’s attempts to undermine his achievements and cut him down with words alone. “Much of what you have experienced can be of use, but you must hold fast to your Path. Remember your purpose, remember your goal, and together, we shall ascend beyond the Heavens.”

“Ohhh, but which one will you be when you ascend? Ying Zheng, or Zhen Shi?” The boy was clearly enjoying himself as he stirred up these muddy waters, but it was a question well worth asking. Ying Zheng said to remember his goals, but for as long as he could remember, this Sovereign sought to overthrow the dog Emperor and take his place, an ambition and desire that still burned brightly even now. He’d known all along that it would come down to this, a contest for supremacy between the original soul and Natal Soul, for though there was a time when they were one and a same, too much had changed since. He was Zhen Shi, the Uniter, a man who risked madness and eternal destruction to peer into the secrets of Heavens, one who mastered his Will and learned to chain Spectres to his soul while remaining unaffected by their maddened lies. Through trial and error, he discovered how to not only control the Defiled through his chained Spectres, but Transcendents as well, to say nothing of his unmatched discovery regarding the creation of Wraiths by Refining their bodies in the metaphysical remains of Spectres and Transcendents both. A discovery which gave rise to a Divinity no less, one even more flawed than usual, but a Divinity nonetheless, so who knew what the future had in store for this promising research? What’s more, he was the man who conquered the Defiled tribes and unravelled the mysteries of their Path, one who threw the outer provinces into turmoil and conquered the West, only to progress along his Path to become a nascent immortal, one who might well stand at the forefront of humanity in terms of the Dao, perhaps even further than Ying Zheng himself. Strength was merely the metric by which Martial Warriors measured the Dao, but in terms of comprehension, then surely this Sovereign stood superior to all others.

Yes, yes. A union with Ying Zheng was most certainly possible, necessary even to complete his Path, but before that, Zhen Shi would complete his dreams and unseat the Eternal Emperor from his jade throne.

Throwing himself at his fated foe with a near-feral howl, this Sovereign unleashed his Will and Authority in a direct clash against Ying Zheng, while the boy cackled in naked delight. “There can be only one!” he hollered, whilst retreating to watch this all from a safe distance. Zhen Shi sensed Ying Zheng’s displeasure and shared in it as well, but neither one of them could afford to spare Falling Rain any attention just yet, because he was correct. This was a contest of Wills from which there could only be one victor and one loser, an all-or-nothing battle to become the next True Divinity to emerge from this plane of existence. As he unleashed all the horror and despair he’d experienced in their separation, Zhen Shi reminisced upon all the effort he’d put into this, not just what he’d done during their millennia of separation, millennia in which he toiled and suffered while his counterpart sat upon the jade throne in splendour and luxury, but also everything he’d accomplished before that. With these memories came the knowledge of the previous Path he’d long since abandoned, knowledge he put to good use combining with his newfangled Path to hammer his foe with Balance and Unbalance alike. Ying Zheng benefitted in the same manner, drawing from Zhen Shi even as Zhen Shi drew from him, but countless years of idling had caused one of them to long since lost their edge.

Victory would be his, of this, he was certain, and when all was said and done, there would still be time and strength enough to deal with one measly Falling Rain.

Chapter Meme