Chapter 524 unedited unmemed

Early because i got a family dinner then gotta drive parents to the airport.

Enjoy :D

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ah3eLTK62gxDJqjTXTpAMMa8DvBTG1DRElxHDwiOoG0/edit?usp=sharing

I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

Okay, technically, it’s not napalm, and technically, it’s evening, and technically, I’m breathing through my mouth to avoid the nauseating stench of burning flesh, but the sentiment is still the same.

This. Is. Awesome.

Over two kilometres away, the conflagration burns bright enough to illuminate Sinuji like midday, a massive funeral pyre custom-made for the million-strong Army of Defiled engulfed within. As the scorching heat permeates through my thick, winter cloak and sets my skin to sweating, I do my best to peer into the flames and make out Not-Gen’s death-throes, but the dazzling incandescence is too much for my mortal eyes to handle. Then again, it doesn’t look like the Martial Warriors are doing any better, with soldier and slave alike shielding their eyes from the destructive brilliance of Hongji’s explosive welcome.

It’s a breath-taking sight, a grand spectacle of epic proportions which this world has never seen, a fiery inferno wrought of oil and Chi wreaking havoc on the Enemy’s forces. While I take pride in being the one to first suggest this idea, Hongji wasn’t kidding when he said I was thinking too small, though he over-exaggerated when he said he’d craft a blaze visible from Nan Ping, I’ll allow it for the sake of well-deserved dramatic effect. It’s safe to say that Chen Hongji has made history here today in Sinuji, killing a million Defiled warriors despite being absent from the fort itself. My only complaint is that the deafening crackle of flames drowns out the screams of the Defiled, but it’s a small price to pay for this scale of massed devastation.

I gotta say, even though all of this could’ve kept me from being crippled and broken the last time a Defiled army visited Sinuji, having seen the results firsthand, I’m glad Hongji stayed his hand and didn’t blow his fiery load on Gen’s last pitiful entourage of three-hundred thousand. We dealt a grievous blow to the Enemy here, with one million Defiled reduced to cinders and ash, including at least fifty Demons and the eight-hundred year old body-snatching boogeyman who led them, not to mention the hundred-and-fifty thousand so-called Chosen of Heaven, along with their costly Runic Armour and prized Spiritual Weapons. I suspect Zhen Shi’s true body is still alive and well somewhere in the Western Province, but he’ll need a new meat-puppet to play with since this one will soon be scattered to the wind.

The Emissary of Earth and Flame, done in by copious amounts of oil and elbow grease. Poetic, in a way, or maybe ironic. Either way, I’m happier than Pong Pong in a pool filled with shrimp and thoroughly enjoying the light show.

Honestly, I have no idea how Hongji set this all up. For the sake of secrecy, only the highest echelons of command were privy to the details, and the work was undoubtedly carried out by oath-sworn slaves. My best guess is that Hongji dug a network of tunnels underneath the open fields, or maybe even used the tunnels dug by the Enemy’s mole-rat Demons against them. With those in place, then it becomes a simple matter of flooding the tunnels with pitch and oil, letting the gasses build up to explosive proportions, collapsing the tunnel entrance to create an appropriate firebreak, then setting the whole thing off in an explosion of scorching hot death via a Chi-fuelled fire-bird from Tenjin.

If only I knew how to take all this destruction and bottle it up into one, tiny, metallic, self-propelling cylinder...

A shame only a handful of people know they have Hongji to thank for all of this, though I’ve no doubt the Empire will praise his name for decades, if not centuries to come once news of his brilliance emerges. Everything regarding this plan was understandably kept secret for the sake of security, and I wasn’t privy to the planning process since it was all kept strictly to a need to know basis. Even Watanabe wasn’t informed of these preparations, or so I inferred from his panicked attempts to get himself out of Sinuji ahead of the Defiled Horde’s arrival. All the cloak and dagger was absolutely worth it though, because if Zhen Shi even had an inkling of the warm welcome we had waiting for him, he would’ve never brought such a tempting target to roast on the fields of Sinuji. Nian Zu only informed me of Hongji’s painstaking preparations a few days ago, after the Defiled Horde was first spotted, and I’ve been understandably giddy ever since. It’s been hard keeping this all to myself, especially with all my friends and family beside themselves with worry. I almost let the cat out of the bag more than once while entertaining the long stream of concerned visitors earlier today, but at least now I know I can count on Tam Taewoong and the three most prominent Healers in Sinuji.

That said, the reaction from the soldiers of Sinuji is nothing like I’d expected, with none of the cheers or celebrations I’d envisioned these past few days. Shocked silence I can understand, but as I tear my eyes away from the Defiled corpse-fire, I find the surrounding soldiers staring at me in unchecked horror. No, not me, but at Tenjin beside me, who has yet to notice as he takes in his handiwork with pride and satisfaction.

Masahige is the first to regain his voice, his subdued question barely audible above the roaring inferno. “How could you? You’ve killed us all...”

“...What in the fuck are you babbling about?” More than a little miffed, I jerk a thumb towards the fire and say, “Last I checked, it wasn’t our asses in the fire out there, and with the giant stone-studded dirt path between us, there’s way the flames can spread this way.” It’s not like I was expecting any thanks, but what’s with the accusations?

Cringing as he tries to look at Tenjin and fails, Masahige sobs, “A Divinity has acted and broken the treaty. We’re doomed, all of us doomed.”

Oh, he thinks Tenjin is a Divinity who wiped out the Defiled with Heavenly Energy. Laughable as it might be, I can see how they might come to such an erroneous conclusion, but as I open my mouth to clear up the misunderstanding, the earth lets loose with a thunderous roar and shudders with violent fury. Crashing headlong into Kuang Biao’s steely armour, I clutch his arm for support and look up just in time to see five towering earthen pillars rise up from amidst the flames. Towering high about the incandescent blaze, the pillars sprout into the night sky like ponderous mountains growing in front of my eyes, their massive, streaming forms shuddering beneath their own weight. One moment, it seems as if the mountains will grow unto infinity and crush Sinuji beneath their ponderous mass, but the next, they burst apart in surging tide of dirt and debris. The earthen tide obscures the night skies for all of a second before landing atop the fiery conflagration with a resounding crash, setting the ground to trembling once more as it belches clouds of cinders, smoke, and soil in every direction as far as the eye can see. My heart skips a beat and I join the other defenders of Sinuji in holding my breath, silently hoping my eyes deceive me and things are not as they seem. One minute, then two, then a third passes without development, and for the briefest of moments, I think everything is going to be okay, but then the dust clears and all of Sinuji gasps as our fears are made true.

The Defiled army survived. Not uninjured and not whole, but as the bodies dig their way out of the dirt, it’s easy to see there’s still a hell of a lot more Defiled than there are Imperials in Sinuji.

...

That’s fucking cheating!

Seriously, this is bullshit. We lit the biggest bonfire this world has ever seen, and some crazed motherfucker piloting a meat suit puts it all out with a wave of his fucking hand. It’s been four months and change since I last saw Not-Gen, but Zhen Shi has already figured out how to put Gen’s other Blessings to good use. How is this even remotely fair? Gen gets three functional Elements to work with, Earth, Fire, and Metal, while I’m here stuck with Water. He throws fireballs, raises mountains, and crafts awesome metallic claw-hands while the best I can do is hydrate turtles with bathwater. Hey, who knows, maybe if I complain enough, I’ll eventually Awaken to the Blessing of Salt. Fuck you, Mother in Heaven, you’re a real bitch.

Opening my mouth to voice my objection in a less childish manner, I’m once again interrupted but this time by Kuang Biao himself. “Keep quiet and out of sight,” he Sends, positioning himself in front of me while simultaneously urging me back. “You’ve pissed them off enough. No need to open your mouth and make yourself a target. Even I can’t save you from a Divinity.” Good point. Shrinking back as best I can with my walker, I look for a safer place to watch the drama unfold, but considering what I just witnessed, I doubt anywhere in Sinuji could still be considered safe. How the fuck are we supposed to fight against someone like Zhen Shi while he puppets a twenty something year old Gen?

...

Wait...

I think all the shock has made me stupid.

“What Divinity?” I ask, peering out at the field through the crook of Kuang Biao’s arm. So what if it makes me look scared? Anyone in their right mind would be too.

“The one who just put out the fire.” The added ‘idiot’ is implied, because I’m pretty sure Death Corps aren’t allowed to disparage their masters, but Kuang Biao adds, “And what did I say about keeping quiet? Handle the coward behind us before he incites massed panic.”

Reluctantly tearing my eyes away from the Defiled, I turn to see Masahige clutching his head with eyes wide open. “I told you,” he whimpers, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Told you, you’ve doomed us all. The treaty is broken and now we’re all dead. We’re all going to -”

Considering he could literally break me like a twig, I discard my first thought which is to slap Masahige across the face and instead direct Green One to do it with a nod. Startled out of his stupor at the impact, the lieutenant snarls and reaches for Green One with a snarl, but is promptly manhandled into submission with ease by my Death Corps guards swarming him from all sides. “Get a hold of yourself,” I snap, trying not to laugh at the sight of him being held up by the scruff of his neck. Truth is, it’s not really all that funny and mostly sad, but terror does strange things to a man’s mind. “You are an Imperial Warrior, one trained to defend the Empire against the Defiled.” Pointing at the Defiled army as they stagger back into formation amidst the smoke and embers, I state, “There stands the Defiled.” Holy shit there are a lot of them. At least half survived, maybe more. Fuck my life. Pointing at Masahige’s feet, I add, “And this here? This is Imperial land. We are the first line of defence, and behind us is everyone we love and cherish. Our mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, our friends and countrymen, all of whom will die if the Enemy has their way. Stay on task and let Divinities worry about Enemy Divinities, just like you let our Experts deal with their Demons. Your job is to deal with the Defiled, so until the Mother sees fit to claim your eternal soul, you will stand here and defend this ground until your dying breath. Do you understand, soldier?!”

Luckily for me, Masahige’s training kicks in and the ingrained discipline overpowers his fear. “Yes, Great One,” he yells, forgetting he technically outranks me. “This one will stand, and this one will fight!” Though tinged with hysteria, Masahige’s shout ripples down the line, echoed by many a stalwart soldier, and soon enough, a cheer rings out and is picked up but thousands of Imperial throats, a wordless howl of defiance in the face of the Enemy’s overwhelming display of power. Many of the soldiers around me shower Tenjin with reverent gazes, their eyes filled with adoration for this supposed Divinity standing in their midst, and I thank the Heavens I didn’t disabuse them of the notion earlier. Discomforted by their veneration, Tenjin does his best not to squirm or make eye contact while Tursinai clutches her belly and buries her face in Song’s shoulder to keep from ruining things with her uproarious laughter.

God I wish he really was a Divinity. I should’ve agreed and brought Jorani up to the wall, at least then I could stand behind him and feel safe knowing GangShu would keep us both alive.

Frantically trying to remember the last time I saw the dreamy rat bastard and praying he’s somewhere nearby, my muted panic is interrupted by yet another localized earthquake, except instead of pillars, I watch in horror as a wall of soil rises from the earth and hurtles forward to consume us. Clouds of charcoal and smoke are propelled towards us by the cresting wave of soil and soot, congealing into a thick, ashy fog escorting the solid mass behind it. Two kilometres passes in the blink of an eye and the wave soon blots out the starry sky, but the ashen clouds sparkle like a miniature, star-studded nebula, twinkling with the light of a million glowing embers.

And then the whole thing explodes and a shower of dirt, pebbles, and viscera rains down over our heads.

Cradling my ears and tucking my chin to my chest, I weather through the worst of the dirt storm with help from Dastan and Sahb, their Runic Shields raised overhead to block what they can. Coughing and sputtering to keep the dirt out of my lungs, I come to my senses and find a ragged beggar sitting on the parapets before me, with one foot tucked beneath his knee and one elbow propping himself up with his free hand holds his pipe to his lips. He puffs once, then twice, then exhales softly, spewing out a ridiculously long stream of milky white smoke. Spreading faster than I can follow, the pipe smoke wafts away the dust and ash wherever the two might meet, clearing the air in a matter of heartbeats and leaving Sinuji’s outer wall utterly pristine. Throughout it all, Guan Suo continues to laze upon the parapets and smoke his pipe, his white-ringed and red-furred tail leisurely swishing from one side to the next.

...You know what? I’ve decided. From here on out, he can steal as many meals as he wants and I’ll just smile and ask if he wants more.

“You!” Halfway between the Defiled army and Sinuji stands the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen, her back hunched and wrinkled skin hanging loosely from her cheeks. Even from this distance, I can see her gap-toothed grimace directed towards Guan Suo, though I wouldn’t dare mention it to her face considering she’s poised atop a stony plateau which wasn’t there when I last looked.

“Me,” Guan Suo replies, as indifferent as always while puffing away at his pipe.

“You were there that day, at the winery.”

“Yep.” Blowing out a ring of whitish smoke, it forms into Common Characters which spell out his name, only backwards because it’s meant for the Enemy. “Name’s Guan Suo. Most call me the Smiling Slaughterer. You make another move, and you’ll call me death.”

Only now do the pieces fall into place, and I’m not sure what to be more shocked by. The fact that I’m looking at a Defiled Ancestral Mole-Rat or that Guan Suo is probably Mila’s biological father. “Names. Pei. A human fabrication, one I will not fall victim to.” With an ugly sneer, mole-rat lady’s buck-teeth gnash in frustration as the ashen clouds coil around her, no doubt Guan Suo’s unsubtle threat. “Blessed by Air and Fire, you think this makes you strong enough to disregard the treaty? Strong enough to kill a peer without paying a price?”

Instead of answering, Guan Suo taps his pipe on the parapet stone and empties it with deliberate ease, only to pack it with the same casual disdain. Puffing once before answering, he holds the bowl in hand, points the stem at his foe, and asks, “You daft or something?”

It’s easy to see where Mila inherited her surly demeanour from, though it’s much cuter when she does it.

“First off,” Guan Suo drawls, his pipe back between his lips and the clouds thicker than ever. “I prefer to call it Smoke. None of this vague Air and Fire business. Second, you ain’t my peer. I’d tell you to call me grand-daddy, but if I had a grand-daughter ugly as you, I’d kill myself in shame.” To punctuate his point, the ashen clouds lift the mole-rat lady into the air as the earthen plateau implodes beneath her feet, only to unceremoniously drop her without warning. Landing with a crash, the Defiled Ancestral Mole-Rat snarls with bestial fury as her skin smoulders and cauterizes beneath the ashen smoke, but a whitish cloud sits before her face, arranged in a single character known to even the most uneducated of peasants.

Death.

The blood drains from the mole-rat lady’s face as she struggles to free herself from the smoke, but Guan Suo continues, “Third, I’m not the one here violating the Treaty. You acted first, so I’m well within my rights to kill you here and now.” Blowing out yet another long stream of smoke, he smacks his lips and adds, “The half-fox was right. You might’ve been a Divinity once, but now you nothing but Defiled filth. Time was, you’d have probably already figured it out. The fire from before? Aside from the spark which set it off, that blaze was entirely mundane. If it’d been mine or another’s, you wouldn’t have had to gone to so much effort raising dirt to snuff it out.”

Their exchange is probably incomprehensible to most Martial Warriors in Sinuji, but being a Water-Blessed individual myself, I’m able to follow along. If the blaze had been Fire Chi, all mole-rat lady would’ve had to do is emit Earth Chi of her own and the two would’ve cancelled out, like how I negated Gen’s fire-bolts using Water Chi on Unity’s blade. It’s not about elemental affinity, but rather equal but opposing forces cancelling each other out, like waves on a string or ripples in a pool. I mean, it would’ve taken a metric shit tonne of Chi to conjure a blaze that big and an equal amount to put it out, but it still would’ve been easier than raising literal mountains of dirt to blanket the earth.

“Impossible,” the mole-rat lady screams, her rage ringing in my ears even as her skin sloughs off from Guan Suo’s relentless and seemingly effortless assault. “Lies and deceptions, another human construct which impedes my Path.”

“Fool.” Waving a hand in Tenjin’s general direction, Guan Suo says, “Introduce yourself, young firebrand. Let her see who she’s accusing of breaking the Treaty before we send her to the Father’s Maw.”

Where I might’ve hesitated before making myself a target for a pissed off Defiled Divinity, Tenjin doesn’t miss a beat. “I am Tenjin,” he declares, infusing his voice with Chi and pride while simultaneously illuminating himself with a bird of flame circling overhead. “Son of Healer Tokta and Weaver Khorijin, Husband to Sentinel Tursinai, and twenty-nine year old Fire-Blessed Sentinel of the People.”

“Firebrand Tenjin!” A soldier shouts, and the cry is echoed across Sinuji. “Firebrand Tenjin! Firebrand Tenjin! Firebrand Tenjin!”

The cheers continue for a long time before dying off, and Tenjin stands tall throughout it all, with Tursinai in her rightful place beside him. Truth is, she’s much stronger than he is and can beat him with one hand tied behind her back, but there is no jealousy or resentment in her eyes, only genuine pride and admiration. Tomorrow, her husband’s name will be known across the Empire as the man who dealt a blow so devastating, the Enemy mistook him for a Divinity.

Firebrand. Not the worst title, and beats ‘Undying Savage’ by a fair margin.

What? I’m not his wife. I’m allowed to be jealous.

No longer alone on the parapets, Guan Suo is joined by a heroic figure clad from head to toe in sky-blue Runic Armour, a full set from boots to helm. Looking resplendent beneath the starry night sky, GangShu’s armour shimmers as he strikes a pose and says, “Now that that’s all been cleared up, I reckon it’s time ye execute the bitch.” Undoubtedly leering beneath his full-face helm, GangShu adds, “Ye only skirted the Treaty last time around, but ye still almost killed me boy. Turnabout’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

“Fuck yer Treaty.” The blackened clouds eating away at the mole-rat lady dissipate into nothingness as a portly, lumbering figure appears at her side, dwarfing her and everyone else in existence in both height and width. “Ye want a fight? This grand-daddy be happy t’ oblige.”

That slurring accent. Those droopy ears. That fat, bulbous face. Even from such a distance, his identity is unmistakable, or at least it is to me. For months, I suffered at the hands of his progeny, and to this day, the memories still haunt me in wakefulness and in sleep, but now, I finally get to lay eyes on the bastard responsible for my torment.

The Immortal Zhu Chanzui. Defiled Ancestral Pig, Mahakala’s murderer, and a bastard who deserves to die a slow and painful death.

Two Defiled Divinities against two Imperial ones. While Guan Suo is undoubtedly superior to mole-rat lady, I can’t help but remember a conversation we had when I thought the scraggly bastard was just a half-red-panda, one which is far more frightening now that I know how powerful he really is. “Newborn calf like yourself might not fear the tiger,” Guan Suo had said, “But even I’d think twice before crossing blades with that one.”

Oh hell... GangShu was amazed Big Poppa Piggy beat Mahakala, which means he’s probably not confident about beating either one of them, and the Enemy still could pull out Anathema to use against us. The only bright side is that the sun is down which means the black goop should stay dormant until morning, but it’s possible light isn’t the trigger, but heat, which makes it that much more dangerous for everyone involved.

Besides, who knows how many more Divinities are hiding in the shadows?

As if in answer to my question, and the Abbot shuffles out to join GangShu and Guan Suo on the parapets, drumming out a steady beat on the wooden fish in his hand. “Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo,” he intones, looking none-too-regal in his plain, grey robes. Even the blocky wooden fish is lacklustre and uninspiring, as if carved by a five-year old who’d never seen a fish before in his life, its eyes too bulging, lips too thick, and body too square. “This monk’s junior brother used a curious phrase, one which resonates with the Great Path. ‘To err is human, to forgive Divine’. Such wisdom, such insight, this monk is ashamed to admit his inferiority, but is this not also human nature?” Shaking his head with a sigh, the Abbot draws himself up to full height for the first time ever, transforming from humble monk to burning warrior without changing a single thing about his appearance. “Zhu Chanzui, this monk only human, so he cannot forgive you your crimes. The blood of my Senior Brother stains your hands, and for this, you must die.”

...As heartening as it is to hold the upper hand in this clash of Divinities, the pessimist in me can’t help but remember yet another troubling conversation I had in the past. Mahakala claimed he was stronger than the Abbot, and considering he lost to Zhu Chanzui, the best odds I can give are 55-45 in our favour, assuming all present Divinities have been accounted for. Not-Gen could still be lurking around somewhere, and seeing how he’s being puppeted by an eight-hundred year old monster, that’s a third Divinity to match our numbers which means the outcome looks bleak.

Yanno, I’m kinda starting to regret setting all of this into motion and wish we could just fight a million-strong horde of Defiled with sword and spear. It sure as hell beats all this Divinity power-level guestimation bullshit, but alas, the decision is out of my hands. This is what I get for trying to fight smart. I bet if the Tyrant ever gets working cannons, the Enemy Divinities will just throw a shit fit and destroy them all.

It’s true. Might makes right, and right now, I am all sorts of wrong.