Chapter 491

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Breathing easier in the wake of the Justicar’s departure, I quietly pledge to commit less crimes in the future, or get better at hiding them.

It’s not like I’m out robbing and pillaging to my heart’s delight, but I do tend to skirt around the law whenever possible. The way I see it, if my enemies aren’t playing by the rules, then why should I? Turnabout is fair play, but if even the Justicars can’t be counted on to play fair, then it’s only a matter of time before Mom and Dad need to step in and flip the board. Not a prospect I look forward to, considering there’s no turning back from open rebellion, but in light of Mom’s violent reaction earlier, it almost seems like she can’t wait to start slaughtering Imperials. Touched as I am, I’d rather not see the Bekhai dragged into a revolution over little old me, because then every death becomes my fault and I have enough remorse as it is dealing with the death of my soldiers.

If we were close to the mountains or even just closer to the Northern Province in general, I might be convinced to cut our losses and head home, but here on the border between West and Central, we’re sandwiched between the Imperials and Defiled. To get out, we’d have to fight our way out of the citadel, head two-hundred and fifty kilometers north to SuiHua, commandeer enough boats and supplies for fifteen-thousand Khishigs and their families, then break through a series of blockades which are already in place to stop Defiled naval forces from making their way deeper into the Empire, all before we even set foot in our home province. Powerful as the Bekhai are, I doubt we’d even make it to SuiHua considering the sheer number of loyal Imperial soldiers around, and I’d hate to force my allies to pick a side.

Not that I expect it’d be a difficult decision. Talking about rebellion is one thing, but actually rebelling over such a stupid issue? Even BoShui might have second thoughts...

Despite the gravity of our situation, I can’t help but smile at Luo-Luo’s reaction, sitting slumped in her chair while Yan fans her face, so utterly overwhelmed by our brush with the Disciplinary Corps. So dramatic, but she tends to get like this when it comes to matters with Imperial Scions. Still clasping her hand tight, I try not to think about how large her hands are compared to mine and wrack my brain for something reassuring. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure this was all a bluff. Shock and awe, you know, scare me into submission by threatening to expose my crimes, but it probably won’t work. I mean, it’s hands down a terrible idea considering how many people it’ll offend, and a few crimes won’t completely tarnish my reputation. Worst comes to worst, I’ll make a big public apology, pay the fines, and head off to the front lines, though I refuse to hand over my people.” I’ll probably have to smuggle them out or something. This would be so much easier if GangShu were here, because then I could lump all my former bandits into the Mother’s Militia and blame their crimes on him. He already took credit for their heroics before and during the battle of Sanshu, so this is just an extension of that.

“Pei.” No longer restrained by Alsantset and the Justicar’s presence, Mom smacks the dining table with a growl. “Absolutely not! You know as well as I that going to the front lines would mean your death, and I do not mean at the hands of the Defiled. I would sooner consign Heaven and Earth to the Father’s Maw than watch you go meekly to your doom.”

Both warmed and horrified by the statement, I let go of Luo-Luo and shuffle over to comfort Mom before her blood-pressure reaches critical levels. Kissing her on the cheek, I hug her tight and smile as she clings to my wrist, as if to ensure I won’t fly away. “Much as I appreciate the sentiment, I think a trip to the front lines wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Yes, my enemies might try to have me killed, but it won’t be so easy, especially since I think the Legate expected a trip to happen. Last we met, he spoke of offering assistance and the next day, he sent Brother Biao to join my Honour Guard. We all thought this was meant to offend the Yangs, but what if the Legate knew Jixing would accuse me of these crimes?”

“Of course!” Recovering from her stupor, Luo-Luo bolts upright in her chair, her eyes lighting up in realization as she lays it all out for us to understand. “Had Lord Husband not pointed out the flaws in their plans, then he would have been stripped of rank and sent to the front lines in less than an hour’s time, but he would still have his title and command of his Honour Guard. With a young and talented Peak Expert by his side, our enemies would have to think twice before sending someone to assassinate him, and even if Lord Husband were to be placed in an untenable position against the Defiled, Brother Biao could easily bring him away to safety. Thus, as long as Lord Husband lives, Yang Jixing must continue to commit resources to dealing with him, leaving Lord Husband’s Patron free to stir up discord amongst the people of the Empire and turn them against the Disciplinary Corps for forcing a crippled hero into such dire straits.”

“Yea…” I totally thought of all that. Well, not really. I got as far as, ‘Kuang Biao protects me’, which isn’t terrible. What Luo-Luo said makes sense though, and I can’t help but look down on Jixing for not seeing the obvious. Does he really think no one will blink twice if he orders a cripple into an active war-zone, or arrests soldiers for crimes they were absolved of for their part in the Battle of Sanshu? “Anyway, given this information, I don’t think it’d be the worst thing in the world if I paid a visit to the front lines. I could make a big fuss about how this wasn’t my choice while also showing everyone I’m beaten, but not defeated, you know? Plus, Ping Ping is pretty popular since a lot of soldiers and camp followers like to stop by to offer a prayer.” The big girl doesn’t seem to particularly care for their piety, but she doesn’t mind it either. I wonder how people would react to learning there was an actual Divine Turtle hiding in Mama Bun’s floof…

“It’s dangerous,” Mom says, clearly not happy with the idea, but leaving the final decision in my hands, which given my history, seems like a terrible idea.

Even then, my mind is made up. “So is the alternative.” I’m always leery about mentioning rebellion out loud, even here in the safety of our home where Mom says I can speak freely. I miss Sending. So much easier to criticize and complain when you don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing. “A short trip, around a month or less. It’s possible the Justicars won’t even take away my rank now that I’ve pointed out how dumb Jixing’s plan is, but we can still use this to show I’m being pressured. Honestly, I’m kinda disappointed in how incompetent he’s been so far. The Legate has plans within plans, while Jixing just throws tantrums. I expected more from an Imperial Scion.”

“A novel way of seeing things.” So quiet I’d almost forgotten he was here, Du Min Gyu gestures at his empty teacup and I head over to fill it. A little annoying considering I’m crippled and the teapot is right beside him, but he’s not purposely making things difficult, just not accustomed to pouring his own tea. Nodding in thanks, he sips his tea with a steady hand and steely gaze as he studies me closely. “Most people of the Empire would balk at even speaking ill of an Imperial Scion, much less outright defying one. This Yang Jixing is a young man, I presume? One of high birth and accustomed to having his every whim fulfilled?” Seeing my nod, the old man shrugs. “Thus, while the plan might seem foolish from our perspective, Jixing likely sees the issues as insignificant and easily dealt with. Even if he should offend multiple powerful officials of the Empire, he is still an Imperial Scion of high standing, so who will make trouble for him? He’s likely more concerned about regaining lost face from your refusal, as his reputation will suffer once others learn he was rebuffed by a mere ‘savage’.” Smiling to show he means no offense, he sighs and shakes his head while flashing a wry smile at Yan. “Licentious though your betrothed may be, at least he’s proven himself steadfast. Contesting against an Imperial Scion to keep his Consort, the playwrights will work day and night to be the first to tell this tale.”

The statement earns me a gratified blush from Luo-Luo and a smile that’s not quite a smile from Yan as she wrestles with her jealousy. Mila had the same issue all last night during Yan’s welcome party, which leaves me worried for the future. Lin aside, the other ladies in my life aren’t exactly brimming with enthusiasm at the prospect of sharing me, but I’ve no idea how to go about convincing them to get along without devolving into scenarios which belong in a pornographic screenplay. As fun as it would be to try and sex my wives into submission, I doubt I have the skills or stamina to do so, though Yan didn’t seem put off by it last night…

Dammit. I really owe the Legate big for his tofu pudding…

“Luo-Luo, pick out some works of art to gift to the Legate, as belated thanks for his support.” And to show Jixing that if he sets the Justicars on me for looting, then he’s going to have to ask the Legate to hand over the ill-gotten goods. The little brat might not care about pissing off Marshals and Magistrates, but I doubt he’ll be so quick to move against Shen ZhenWu. In fact, it’s probably better if he does, because like Luo-Luo said, that’d give the Legate a reason to step in. “Are there any unrelated people in power I can drag into this too? We should send them gifts as well.” Get rid of as much stolen property as we can while simultaneously bringing unrelated people into this mess. I mean, I did the same thing when I first got back from Sanshu, but now it’s just a matter of scale. “Also, do we have anything which is definitely not stolen, but we can arrange to look like it was stolen?” Seeing everyone’s questioning gaze, I shrug and explain, “I figured we could send Jixing a ‘stolen’ gift to make it seem like I’m taunting him. If he has enough restraint to swallow his anger, then all we’ve done is annoy him a bit, but if he takes the bait and sends the Justicars after me on erroneous charges, then he loses face again, maybe even enough to send him running. Sounds good, right?”

“No.”

“Terrible idea.”

“Why poke the dragon?”

“Brilliant!” Mom, Alsantset, and Du Min Gyu all shoot my idea down at once, but Luo-Luo is positively glowing with admiration. So excited she doesn’t even notice the stares, she explains, “It all makes sense now. In conflict amongst Imperial Scions, the greatest loss comes not from death or defeat, but by being manipulated or deceived by one’s foes, and doubly so if it leads one to harm one’s self or one’s allies. Such was Lord Husband’s Patron’s intent in this conflict between Lord Husband and Yang Jixing, to sit back and watch the Prime Minister’s son kick an iron board, but Lord Husband’s level-headed reaction to the Justicar’s accusations ruined those schemes. Now Lord Husband can make it up to his Patron with a simple amendment to his plans. Instead of delivering the deceptive gift to Jixing, it would be better if we secretly gave it to Lord Husband’s Patron instead. Then, all we need do is quietly spread word of the ‘stolen’ art in our possession, and when Jixing makes his move, then he inadvertently moves against Shen ZhenWu, who will be more than happy to slap Jixing down as long as he is informed of our plans in advance.”

“...What?”

Thankfully, I’m not the only one confused by Luo-Luo’s explanation, and even the politically savvy Du Min Gyu seems lost, but Luo-Luo assures us this is the optimal play. After hammering out the details, Luo-Luo rushes off to falsify documents and forge artwork, because apparently she knows how to do both. Despite my earlier pledge, I can think of a hundred different ways to use Luo-Luo’s art skills, none of which involve selling art, but in the interest of good behaviour, I banish those thoughts to the void. In truth, I file them away for when things get desperate, and make a mental note to find out if it’s actually illegal to forge another noble’s seal, and what the penalty for doing so would be. Let’s be real, forged documents would make my life so much easier when navigating the crooked world of merchants and caravans, not to mention how the wrong letter in the right hands could do a lot of damage.

Like say... What would happen if Rang Min were to find a love letter written by an ally and addressed to his wife?

...No, that’s too cruel. It’d probably get the wife killed. Same thing, but the love letter addressed to him?

...Awkward, but probably not too damaging. Whatever. I’ll think of something.

Wrapping up our eventful breakfast, everyone heads out to watch the twins Demonstrate the Forms, but I beg leave to go back to bed on account of tossing and turning all night. It’s not until I get back to my room that I realize what Yan’s blush, Alsantset’s knowing smile, and Du Min Gyu’s glare meant, and I mentally kick myself for poor choice of words, but it’s too late to go back and explain now, so I mentally apologize to Yan and say, “Brother Biao, if you could join me inside?”

This is the real reason I wanted to step away, so I could question Kuang Biao away from prying eyes. Marching into my room without a word, the former Royal Guardian ignores my non-verbal suggestion that he take a seat and stands before me at full attention, a tall, handsome man with broad shoulders and a slim waist. Svelte, rather than muscular, though the heavy Death Corps plate armour can make anyone look bulky and imposing. I’ve been trying to show him I won’t treat him like a slave and encourage him to be himself, but the young Peak Expert has wholly embraced the Death Corps persona as if born to it, though he’s far less enthusiastic about my safety than the others. He even tried to convince me to call him by his new designation, Red One, but that is not only dehumanizing, it’s also needlessly confusing since I’d have to relearn everyone else’s designations.

Seriously, I should just give them all names, but I don’t want to come up with three-hundred and sixty of them...

Since Kuang Biao is determined to stand and I’m not petty enough to order him to sit, I settle down in my walker and hammer out how to word my questions properly. I don’t want to straight up ask what he knows, because I don’t want to accidentally trigger any conflicting Oaths, which he told me about the day he joined my Honour Guard. As a Death Corps soldier, he’s Oathsworn to obey my commands and answer my questions, but after swearing his Death Corps Oaths, Jixing also made him swear an additional one never to reveal Yang family secrets. I figured those sorts of Oaths would be standard fare for Royal Guardians serving the Five Supreme Families, but demanding strict Oaths from non-slave subordinates is generally frowned upon for the same, traditional reason why Justicars don’t just drag Martial Warriors off and make them confess their crimes under Oath: because history has shown that Martial Warriors won’t stand for it.

Powerful, superhuman warriors don’t respond well to overbearing and restrictive demands. Who would’ve thunk it?

There’s a thin line between obedience and servitude, but one the Empire treads carefully, making sure to clearly delineate the difference between slave and free person, even if the result isn’t all that different. Sure a peasant could defy orders from a powerful Martial Warrior, but it’s probably not the best idea to do so if the peasant wants to keep breathing. The same could be said of a former Number One Talent of the Empire and an Imperial Scion, but what can I say? I have issues with authority.

I always thought the general aversion to Oaths was because they hinder you from reaching the Martial Peak. You don’t see a lot of Oath-Sworn slaves reaching Peak Expert status, but apparently, it’s only rare and not unheard of. It’s possible I’m still right and Oaths do restrict progress along the Martial Path, but I’m not certain it’s entirely magical, as it could just be a matter of motivation. Why get stronger if you’re still going to be a slave? Regardless of the reasons, Oaths are a matter of last resort, reserved to prove innocence in the face of overwhelming evidence, rather than as an investigative tool, which is great for me because way too many people know my secrets.

Sadly, Jixing is better at covering his tracks, so if I ask Kuang Biao point blank about the little shit-stain’s plans, the former Royal Guardian will probably choke to death on his tongue. “Aside from the Defiled,” I say, triple checking for paradoxes as I go, “If I were to go to the front lines, what sort of threats do you think I might face?”

“Traitorous schemes to leave your troops under-equipped and unsupported, nefarious plots to order you into danger, and Imperial assassins masquerading as Wraiths.” The answer comes immediately, but no more is forthcoming.

“What about something like poison?”

“Unlikely.” Rationing his words like they’re precious jewels, Kuang Biao only explains once he can no longer ignore my raised eyebrow in good conscience. “Poison would raise too many questions, for it is not a tool the Enemy would use.”

Guess I won’t need a food taster, then. Good thing too, because there is nothing more unappetizing than eating someone else’s leftovers, even if they’ve only taken a single bite. “If left with only my Honour Guard, how confident are you of keeping me alive?” Not only is he the strongest warrior amongst my Death Corps, Kuang Biao is also the only with proper training in battlefield tactics, which means if he thinks I’ve no chance of survival, then he’s probably right.

“One-hundred percent.”

“...How confident would you be of keeping most of my retinue alive?”

“Zero percent.”

...Well fuck. “So if I go to the front lines, my soldiers will probably die?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“...How can I change this?”

“This is beyond Great One’s ability.” This time, Kuang Biao doesn’t need prompting to continue, as if he enjoys telling me how it is. “Unless Great One knows a commander who is both virtuous to a fault and utterly without weakness, lacking in greed, past mistakes, dark secrets, or beloved friends and family who can be used against them, then the death of Great One’s soldiers is all but certain should he march off to the front lines.”

“What if I left with my allies?”

“Then they may be the first to turn against you.” Shrugging at my surprise, Kuang Biao says, “Not all share your indifference towards Imperial Authority, and those in power often have the most to lose.” Softening at my disheartened expression, he adds, “It would be best if Great One remains in the Citadel regardless. This one has read the reports of Great One’s last battle, and it appears the Enemy places much value on your death.”

“Yea, what can I say. People love to hate me.” I didn’t think going to the front lines would be such a big deal. I figured I’d head over to Sinuji with Ping Ping, say hi to Hongji and other old friends, wave at the crowd and maybe shake a few hands, then head on home where it’s safe and sound, but I suppose it won’t be so easy. Kuang Biao can keep me alive, but anyone travelling with me will probably be left behind to die. I suppose I should cancel my travel plans, but depending on how Jixing reacts, I might not have a choice if he goes public with my crimes. I can argue my case, but I doubt I’ll win, which means bad times ahead. A shame the Tyrant’s research has stalled and Taduk’s been too busy to help, but no matter. Worst comes to worst, I leave most of my retinue behind to minimize casualties, which still sucks, but isn’t the best of a bad situation.

After bidding Kuang Biao farewell, I sit in the gloomy darkness of my room and stare at the wall, where my crumbling Spiritual Weapons sit above the last few gourds of Chi Water I’ve kept. Hoping things might be different, I close my eyes, steady my breathing, and reach for Balance, but only find searing agony awaiting me in the darkness behind closed eyes. The Legate’s tofu pudding did a lot for my recovery, but my Core is as shattered as ever. If I still had my strength, I might challenge Yang Jixing right here and now, but I’d be stupid to do so. Aside from the brief period of time when I supposedly became a Water-Wielding Peak Expert, even at my best, I’m probably no match for Jixing. Considering he’s at odds with the Legate, a man holding the title of Divine True Warrior, it’s safe to say Jixing is probably no slouch of a swordsman himself. The Seneschal warned me that there were plenty of youths in the East who could readily defeat me, and I don’t doubt Jixing is one of them, not to mention the shadowy presence who put Ping Ping on her guard that first night we met him.

Being weak sucks donkey dick, but even recovering isn’t enough. Even then, I can’t just give up, so instead of going back to bed, I pull out ink and a metal pen to write letters warning all my allies of Jixing’s threat, as well as another letter asking Broken Blade Pichai for an audience. This will be my third letter to him without a response, but until he outright refuses, I’ve no choice but to keep trying.

If I can’t reach Heaven in a single bound, then I’ll do it one step at a time, even if I have to start over from the beginning. I’ll get there eventually, with or without help. I believe it.

Probably.

Hopefully.

...

I wonder if I can convince Pong Pong that Jixing tastes like shrimp?

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