Savage Divinity

What is perfection?

The technical dictionary would be the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects, but I’m asking about perfection in a more personal sense of the word. How would I describe the perfect meal? The perfect activity? The perfect day? The perfect life? Difficult to say really, but even if I could put it into words, my version of perfection would be wholly unique. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, meaning that at the end of the day, perfection is subjective.

Problem is, even though I can’t describe what perfection entails, I know what perfection feels like. I was just having the perfect dream, one I can no longer remember, but its absence is keenly felt. It was one of those wonderful dreams where everything was just… well, perfect and all my problems are easily solved, except for the fact that I was aware that it was a dream. I remember feeling the same way when fighting the dream Demon way back in wilderness by Shen Huo, when I was but a young man still yet to wholly understand how bat-shit crazy I’d become. The dream the Demon showed me was utter perfection, except my mind kept rejecting every scenario because I couldn’t accept being happy. That’s how I resisted the allure of its illusions, not due to a strong mind or soul or whatnot, but simply because I was so miserable I couldn’t even imagine life any other way.

This time however, was different. Things were perfect, and I was happy, but I knew I couldn’t stay there and continue being happy. I have no words to describe what perfection was like, and I lack any and all awareness of what the dream entailed, but I know it was perfect nonetheless, for I had all the answers and solutions I needed. Either that, or my questions no longer mattered, which in essence is really the same thing. Adrift in a sea of warmth and contentment, I knew I was safe, but more importantly, I was happy. That is how I felt while drifting through a haze of general bliss, so familiar and ordinary without any highs or lows to differentiate the good from the bad, just an all-around perfect existence.

It’s a far cry from how I felt when I first awakened to this new life.

I vaguely remember bouncing about in a moving wagon with the mother of all headaches, while struggling to understand who and where I was. It felt like waking from a dream, a dream in which I lived out an entire life, my past life, from start to finish. It felt so real I wasn’t even sure if it was a dream, but the details were hazy and indistinct. What I could remember was fast fading even as I so desperately tried to hold onto those memories for the sake of having them, because forgetting my dream left me empty and afraid. Every time the wagon bounced, I’d open my eyes to reality and forget a little more, which left me feeling empty and in mourning as if I’d lost something near and dear to my heart, a loss which pained me even though I couldn’t entirely remember what it was. All I knew was that something was wrong, and that I didn’t belong here in this world. A stranger in a strange land, wherein everything came with a heaping helping of horse shit and a living nightmare to boot, a stark contrast to the fast-fading memories of a pleasant and blissful existence which I was so desperate to return to.

My memories of having a past life are still intact, but I’ve never been able to really put together a coherent picture of what my past life was like. I had parents and a dog. I lived alone for awhile, but then I didn’t. I had a job I hated, a passion for video games, and a disturbing fascination with memes. As time went on, I uncovered bits and pieces of my forgotten memories over time, like Buddy and my room in the Natal Palace, or vague notions of how things worked, but there are no real hard details to go along with these recollections. Was I tall or short? Athletic or lethargic? Single or in a relationship? Even Buddy is largely a mystery, because while I know he’s my dog and I love him more than anything, there’s so much still missing. What kind of dog is he? A mutt of some kind, with big brown eyes and floppy ears that make him look oh so adorable, and a predominantly brown fur coat flecked with black and white, not really spots so much as literally singular hairs of a different colour, but enough of them that it shows. That’s really all I can say about Buddy, because aside from his appearance and general demeanour, I don’t really know much else about him. It’s not super important, but I’d still like to know, because it’s in my nature to be curious. That’s just one question of many regarding my dog, and there’s so much more I want to know in general, because maybe then I’ll figure out how I got here and what I’m supposed to do.

None of that matters as I am now, or at least it didn’t until awareness reared its ugly head and forced me to reject my dreams of blissful perfection. Now, all I am left with is the memory of a perfect existence and a sense of having lost it, but no awareness of what that perfection entails. The not knowing is what makes it so much worse, because if I knew what perfection was, then maybe I could figure out how to find my way back to it, except the more I try to hold onto those memories, the faster they slip away. The warmth and contentment drains from my mind and body leaving only emptiness behind, a vast gulf inside me which leaves me feeling hollow and incomplete.

I don’t really understand it, not one bit. Logically, I shouldn’t miss what I don’t remember, but I do. The memory of perfection has long since faded away, but I crave its loss despite being unable to describe it, an ineffable and unattainable state of being which exists only in abstract. What happened to ‘ignorance is bliss’? If I can’t remember it, why am I saddened by its loss? It makes no sense at all, but that’s how it is, so what can I do except accept that I will never be whole? Perfection sits tantalizingly out of reach as the memory of having grasped it fades until only awareness remains, and I am made less for it.

This is just like how it was all those years ago, when I awoke as a confused and terrified little boy who couldn’t remember anything besides his name. Rayne, a name I no longer use because… well because it no longer fits.

What’s so great about my past life anyways? Could it have been better than this one? Sure, my life now isn’t perfect, but I have two loving parents, a doting sister and considerate brother, three beautiful and affectionate wives, a gorgeous consort whose beauty and adoration actually intimidates me, and the most adorable niece and nephew a man could ask for. I have great friends, reliable comrades, stalwart supporters, and a host of admirers, not to mention a whole menagerie full of adorable floofs to cuddle and play with to my heart’s content. Things aren’t perfect, but they’re going pretty great, so even though there are trials and tribulations aplenty, that’s just life. It is what it is, in this world and any other, so why am I so fixated on finding what I’ve lost?

No… a better question is why would I not be?

I am nothing if not curious. This much I know, so why wouldn’t I be curious about my past life? More importantly, why am I not curious about this one? There was a time when I thought myself an invader and parasite, a plague upon the true owner of this body, but I have since come to learn that’s not true at all. Whether it be Brother, Baledagh, Rayne, or Falling Rain, there is no difference or distinction between them, because when you take away the label, what you’re left with is just me. Doesn’t matter what you call me, but this is my body and my life, a truth I have long since come to accept, with a little help from the dearly departed Mahakala.

So knowing all this, why is it that I never bothered to ask Mom or Dad about who I really am, or how I, an amber-eyed member of the People, ended up in a slave camp run by the Canston Trading Group?

I know the answer. Not how I ended up in the slave camp, but why I’ve never asked. Because I don’t really want to know the answer. I don’t know how I ended up where I did, but I know the story won’t be pleasant to hear. That’s why I’ve been playing along and pretending it was just bad luck that saw me sent to the mines, when deep down, I know there must be more to it. I would rather live in blissful ignorance than face harsh reality, but I fear that there will soon come a time when I can no longer keep my head buried in the sand.

But that’s something for future me to deal with, so jokes on him. Present me just has to focus on the here and now, which for the moment, means chasing down that blissful dream once again. Alas, success eludes me and I suffer in cold misery, right up until a tiny bundle of warmth settles in against me and I remember a little of what perfection was like once more. Reality reasserts itself as I find myself curled up in bed with my dog at my side, and for a moment, I am whole again. It’s just me and Buddy against the world, but the world is far and distant, kept at bay by the warm and soothing comfort of my bed and blanket as I drift in that blissful state which exists between sleep and the waking world.

Time passes, and somewhere along the way, I become aware of another presence at my side, one which is every bit as welcome as Buddy. Though I yearn to chase my dreams of perfection some more, I am compelled to open my eyes and gaze upon what I consider an example of perfection in reality. My sweet wifey Lin-Lin lies asleep beside me, her eyes shut and breathing light as she presses her cheek against my shoulder. The sight of her fills me with love and adoration, and I drink in her presence like a man dying of thirst in the desert, reminded of the bliss I’ve found in this life once more.

Somehow sensing my gaze upon her, Lin-Lin stirs in her sleep and slowly blinks her eyes before coming awake with a wide-eyed smile. “Hi hubby,” she exclaims, leaning in for a quick kiss and snuggle. “Sorry we had to end your swim early today, but the fortress came under attack, yea?”

Swim?

End it early?

Wait.

Under attack?

Much as I would love to bolt up in alarm, my fuzzy brain is having trouble processing what’s happening, and all I can do is lie there and utter a flummoxed, “What?”

“Oh, sorry hubby. I guess you’re still disoriented, ya?” Wrapping Buddy in her arms as he pokes his head out to say hi, Lin-Lin nestles into my chest and sinks in with a contented sigh, one my sweet doggo echoes from inside her embrace. “Take your time and don’t worry hubby. Everything’s gonna be alright. You’ll remember everything soon enough.”

Remember everything? What did I forget? You know, besides the whole perfect dream with all the answers and solutions. That being said, even as I teeter on the brink of all-out panic, my memories slowly return to me and the world makes sense once more. I’m in Meng Sha, asleep and comatose while everyone is fighting to liberate the West. After my Natal Soul sacrificed himself to lend aid to the war effort, I asked Lin-Lin to bring me out into the Azure Sea so I could ask Blobby some questions, but I don’t remember talking to him or even going into the water at all. “How long was I in the water for?”

“Mm, at least two hours today, probably more.” Sounding sheepish as she buries her face in my shoulder, she adds, “Yan-Yan and Li-Li brought you out early, and Mi-Mi and I joined you once we woke up and ate lunch.”

“They’re back in Meng Sha?” As far as I can remember, Yan’s in Shi Bei, Li-Li in Pan Si Xing, and Mila is riding somewhere around Tian Zangli. Hang on… “I’m confused,” I declare, and Lin-Lin pats my chest to reassure me that everything is alright, while Buddy grumbles in muted discontent, which earns him a little chin scritch and a pat of the head. “Didn’t I ask you to bring me out into the sea last night? How did Yan, Mila, and Li-Li get here so quickly?”

“Because you didn’t ask me last night,” Lin-Lin answers, her tone so gentle and reassuring that my building panic falls apart at the sound of her voice. “You asked me two weeks ago, and I’ve brought you out every morning since, but every night when I come visit you here, you’ve forgotten everything all over again.” It takes some doing to wrap my head around that, but Lin-Lin’s calm and matter-of-fact demeanour does much to assure me, because I know she’d be more concerned if there was really an issue. “Your memory will come back soon enough,” she says, shifting so Buddy can rest his head on my chest too while she strokes my cheek. “Not all of it, but some, so let’s wait a little and see how much you remember before I go and fill in the gaps, ya?”

“…Okay.” Seems reasonable enough, until I remember the troublesome little detail about Meng Sha being under attack, but this time, even though I make a conscious effort to sit up and panic, Buddy’s reassuring weight sprawls across my chest as Lin-Lin holds me down. “Wifey, I need to get up,” I declare, in as non-confrontational a tone as I can manage. “The fortress is under attack.”

“And there are soldiers here to defend it, hubby,” Lin-Lin replies, while Buddy makes himself more comfortable atop my chest. “You don’t need to worry about the fortress. Everything will be fine, because you’ve already done everything you could, ya?”

“I did?”

Lin-Lin nods, but she doesn’t say anything more, indicating I should quietly work on remembering for myself, but knowing I’ve already done something to help out is a giant weight off my chest. Looking down to give Buddy’s nose a little kiss, I settle into my pillow and hug my wifey tight while gazing upon my sweet doggo, who I only now notice looks oh so miserable despite being coddled and pampered like a baby. His big brown eyes are so sad and mournful, peering at me as if afraid I’m going to disappear, and it occurs to me that he’s still mourning the loss of my Natal Soul. He doesn’t understand that the Natal Soul wasn’t really me, and now he’s worried I’m going to disappear too, but I could never leave him like that.

Unless I did. When I died and reincarnated, did I leave the real Buddy behind? Poor puppy. I hope he made it out alright. No wonder he’s so sad. And to think, he was so excited about going out for a walk too. It’s okay Buddy. I’m never going to leave you ever again. Promise.

All the head pats and scritches in the world aren’t enough to shake Buddy from his funk, but he seems reassured by the attention and the fact that I’m not trying to get out of bed anymore. Heaving a long, doggy sigh, he slowly closes his eyes as I stroke his head and cheeks, and the only time he moves is when I play with his whiskers which annoys him to no end. I love my dog, but sometimes, it’s fun to tease him too, and he endures my shenanigans with grace and aplomb. Between him and Lin-Lin, I find myself relaxing as we all lounge in bed together, and while circumstances are far from perfect, they’re just perfect enough for me to unwind and unpack everything that’s been going on.

It’s not that I’ve given up on trying to remember stuff, but I find that the more I try, the harder it is to recollect anything of worth. So instead of stressing about something I can’t control, I do my best to focus on nothing while luxuriating in the company of my wifey and doggo. Slowly but surely, the fog in my mind clears away and I remember bits and pieces of the past two weeks. I’ve been going into the Sea every day, just like Lin-Lin said, but I don’t really remember much of what happens while I’m there. Perfection, would be my best guess, but it never lasts long, and I’ve an inkling suspicion why. I theorized that in order to take the next step, I need to bring my mind and soul up to par with my Refined body. Only then will I be able to reach my full potential and be ready to progress, though Lin-Lin did make a good point about me focusing too much on getting stronger and not enough on mastering my current strength. That being said, I don’t think anything needs to change, because I’m pretty sure I’m on the right track, with the only caveat being that it’s taking much longer than expected. I figured Blobby would have all the answers regarding how to Refine my mind and soul, and it seems I was right, because what other reason would there be for me to forget everything that happens every day? It’s probably a side effect from Refining my mind and soul, but I have no idea how far along I am and how much further I have yet to go, or really any inclination of progress or improvement.

Which honestly is far from ideal and exceedingly frustrating to boot. I would love a status log or quest journal or even a progress bar, something to tell me what I’ve accomplished, what I need to do next, or how much more I still need to do, but that would make life way too easy, wouldn’t it?

If I succeed at Refining my mind and soul, will I then be able to remember what perfection is like? Not sure if I would want to, seeing how life is imperfect by nature, and the memory of pure bliss might well haunt me for the rest of my days. Then again, what do I really have to complain about? I have so much to be grateful for, and I should be content with what I have, but I am a greedy, covetous man who wants everything and more, so until I learn to curb my greed, I doubt I will ever be happy.

Hmm… did I just stumble across the secret to happiness? Just lower your expectations. Damn I’m smort.

Nothing gets the blood flowing like self-deprecating sarcasm, and I realize Lin-Lin isn’t sleeping at my side anymore. Probably because something woke her up, on account of her being in the middle of a warzone and all. Gathering Buddy into my arms, I ignore his grumblings as I cradle him close and carry him over to the PC, but rather than plunking down in the chair, I hit the button to turn it on and take a moment to watch it boot up. The lights flash and the monitors flicker on, and everything is loaded up in the blink of an eye, a far cry from the clunky computer I used in the Call Centre of the Void. Those were work stations, bargain-bin rigs that were overpriced and outdated the moment they left the factory floor, but this PC here is my baby. I built it myself, complete with blood, sweat, tears, and most of my paycheck, and I love it almost as much as I love my dog, which is really saying something. It’s the flashy lights which does it for me, because as any true gamer knows, they not only make your computer run at least 10% faster, they also help you play better too. Though I don’t have any specific memories of building my PC or playing video games on it, I remember that I did it at the very least, which is enough to evoke a second-hand memory of joy and fulfillment from seeing it now.

I don’t remember remembering even this much before, which I think proves that my mind and soul are stronger now, though I’m not sure if I want to remember everything from my past life. It’s weird enough knowing it exists and the fact that I’m older than my twenty-two years in this world, not to mention how uncomfortable it makes me to admit I might’ve married three women who were less than half my ‘real’ mental age. Uncomfortable, but also mildly proud, which just makes me that much more uncomfortable, but in my defence, even if I was forty years old in my past life before dying, I’m fairly certain I have the mental maturity of a twelve-year-old boy, so if anything, it’s my wives taking advantage of me.

Okay, not really, but I love them, I married them, and I’m not giving them up. Not now, not ever, so I’ll just have to live with my sins and deal with it.

Knowing he won’t be comfortable if I only support him with one arm, Buddy slips out of my embrace and plonks down in my chair, curling up and taking up a good three-quarters of the cushion while leaving just enough room for me to place half an asscheek on the seat. I faintly recall having a second chair I could switch to when this got too uncomfortable, but here in my Natal Palace, I could sit on empty air and feel fully supported, so there’s no need for a second chair here. Technically, I could also make the seat big enough for both of us to sit comfortably, but sometimes, its more fun to squeeze in, so I take my eighth of a seat with a smile and pat his head as he settles his chin atop my thigh.

Keeping one hand on his head, I use the other to open up the browser and check out what’s going on, only to find a livestream of me strapped to a cot with Lin-Lin sprawled across me. Okay, so she didn’t wake up all the way, but the din of battle is enough to draw her out of my Natal Palace. Given how difficult it is to wake my wifey, this is concerning to say the least. The clash of steel and screams of the dying is so faint that I can barely make it out even with the speakers turned up to max, but if her hearing is anything like her dad’s, then she can probably hear it all loud and clear.

Panning the camera around, I see Mila and Li-Li on either side of Husolt nearby, supporting him even though he looks perfectly capable of standing unassisted. Not that he complains, because he loves his daughters dearly, and it shows in his silly, pleased grin which he wears to hide his growing rage and blood lust. Guard Leader Hua Lie and the rest of her sentries are scattered about the docks, alongside a smattering of Royal Guardians, Death Corps, Adherents, and Imperial soldiers thrown into the mix. Each one of them is Concealing themselves on top of letting Hua Lie Conceal them, which means they’ll be extra hard to spot even for someone as skilled at detection as Grandpa Du. An overabundance of caution all things considered, but as powerful as Hua Lie might be, she is still a bicorn bunny and therefore cautious by nature, something I never noticed before her heritage came to light.

I wish Taddy could fall in love with her, but only if she truly loves him back. Problem is I’m not sure that she does, because even though she’s done much to protect him and Lin-Lin, I feel like she sees it as more of a transaction than anything else, and that’s not how love works. I wish her all the best, I really do, but I can’t help but think her relationship with Taddy is doomed before it even begins, because my Teacher is nothing if not a romantic.

Turning my attention away from Taduk’s love life and my immediate surroundings, I move the camera to overlook the battle itself. Meng Sha is not the largest fortress I’ve stayed in, but it’s still big enough to house two-million soldiers comfortably. Knowing this, I take it slow and easy while making sure I don’t push myself too hard, but it seems I’ve recovered enough to not strain myself with Scrying anymore. That’s an improvement at least, though I’m not sure if I’m ready to rejoin the waking world just yet. I’ll try if I have to, but until I know more, I think it’s best to keep to the status quo and wait until I naturally wake instead of forcing the issue myself.

That being said, I will wake myself in a heartbeat if the situation demands it, but things are not so dire just yet. Spotting my retinue stationed above the main gates, I arrive just in time to see Old Bulat heave a Defiled Chosen off the battlements, and I mentally applaud his efforts with a smile. Even though he’s not the strongest Warrior in my retinue, he’s one of the most dependable people I know, and though I’d never put him in charge of the entire retinue, he makes a damn fine second with someone to keep him honest. His valiant efforts do much to inspire the soldiers under his command, and it’s all I can do to keep from jumping out of my seat when I see him casually shoot a Mataram Officer in the face. His gruff, no-nonsense attitude is like a breath of fresh air, though he almost smiles when Dagen tells him who he killed with that shot. Mataram Yu Kong, son of Mataram YuChun, a promising young Talent whose Path was cut short before even stepping foot on the battlements.

Sensing danger a heartbeat before it arrives, my instinctive warning gives Dagen just enough time to get Bulat out of the way of YuChun’s spear. Though the older Sentinel takes a grievous wound to do so, his life is in no danger, and he wholeheartedly believes it to be a small price to pay for his wife’s continued smile, for he knows how much she dotes upon her son. Thankfully, Binesi steps in to shoulder the Heavens, though after watching him exchange blows with YuChun a dozen or so times atop the parapets of Meng Sha, I fear that the Western General holds every advantage. Mataram Yuchun is stronger, faster, and more skilled in every way, a superior Warrior by every metric, but not so much so as to guarantee his victory. Against a lesser foe, he would have already won the match several times over, but the Immovable Binesi is no common Peak Expert. Most Warriors fight to win, but Binesi approaches battle with the mindset of survival first, because where there is life, there is still hope yet. Again and again, he thwarts YuChun’s attempts to end the match and skirts death by the narrowest of margins, but it takes more than a close call to ruffle Binesi’s feathers. All in all, I’d give him one-in-five odds of winning, which to me sounds better than saying twenty percent.

It feels odd to acknowledge this, but Mataram YuChun is not in his best state of mind, having just lost his son. At first, I find it surprising to learn that he truly loved his second son, and not just because Yu Kong was the most promising of the bunch, but on second thought, I realize I shouldn’t be surprised at all. The Defiled are not monsters in human flesh, but humans being led astray, which means they can always be led back to the light again. That being said, I am not kind enough to show leniency to an enemy, especially not at the cost of a friend. Binesi only needs one good hit to bring the victory home, but three chances pass him by before I feel compelled to lend aid, and I do so in a manner which I believe is the least distracting and disruptive.

“Pierce the Horizon,” I helpfully supply, but not through Sending words or images of any kind. An actual message might distract him too much, since there’d be too much for him to unpack, like who’s Sending him messages in the middle of a life and death duel and what message the words are trying to convey. Instead, I try to impart my advice through feelings instead, hopefully to make him think that the idea came from within rather than from a third-party observer, which should work in theory. In practice however, it’s not so simple. There are no words to describe the feeling of Pierce the Horizon, not really. In terms of physical movements, it’s a simple thrust that starts with the hand level to the hip and puts the full weight of your body behind it without needing to move your feet. Arms, shoulders, hips, and legs, everything moves in tandem to provide the maximum power in a series of push-pull interactions that is essentially an immobile, straightforward thrust that hides a thousand different transformations which makes it infinitely complex.

That’s the long and short of it at least, a verbal description of the action itself, but the feeling? That’s harder to put into words. It’s the pleasure you get when you strive for a goal that could be beyond your reach, and yet you try for it anyways and end up pleasantly surprised when you succeed. It’s the satisfaction you get when you do something a thousand times and still don’t really understand, but then everything clicks on your thousand and one try, and you finally get it right. It’s the moment of suspense that comes from jumping off the last few stairs, except you’re not sure if you were already at the bottom, or if you misjudged your jump by a step or two. Take all of that, and add in the satisfying, tactile sensation of putting everything you have into a strike and hitting the target clean on, and then you have an inkling of what Pierce the Horizon really feels like, and it is this feeling which I try to convey.

Alongside an image of Binesi’s spear piercing through YuChun’s throat, because let’s be honest, that’s probably a lot easier to understand.

Alas, my efforts fall flat as Binesi executes Skewer the Blossom instead, though to be fair, it’s impressive to see how he’s taken what is primarily an offensive movement and turned it into a defensive strike. Defending isn’t just about blocking, dodging, and parrying, because sometimes, the best defence is a good offence, a lesson Binesi understands well. The issue is he isn’t thinking big enough, because instead of keeping YuChun off balance and buying room to breathe, he could have ended the fight then and there with a devastating thrust to the face.

A second opportunity presents itself, and I try to help out again, this time communicating that he should use Hanging Grasp Branch to target YuChun’s left shoulder. For the second time, my efforts fall on deaf ears as Binesi continues his staunch defence, and my third, fourth, and fifth attempts end in similar failure. Maybe there’s something wrong with my Aura, or maybe my message isn’t getting through clearly, so I give up trying to help and withdraw before I screw things up for Binesi instead. Turning my attention back to the battlements, I see Jorani throwing himself into the thick of things with the courage of a lion. A clever bit of ropework sees him catch his foe off-guard, and he sends Yu Kong’s would-be avenger sailing off the wall with a strangled scream of regret. Rather than the satisfaction of a job well done, Jorani’s eyes darken in self-condemnation, but he shakes it off and heads back into the fray once more. Probably has one of the Uniter’s minions whispering into his ear, seeking to sow doubt and misery in hopes of eking out some small advantage, but he has no hold over Jorani. There was a time when I’d have been worried about his mood and the possibility he might become tainted or form a Spectre, but he’s come a long way since Sanshu to become one of the people I trust the most.

And with that bond of trust between us, Jorani has no difficulties accepting my assistance and advice, given freely without even thinking. To an outsider, it looks like he’s blessed by the Heavens and fortuitously avoiding death time and time again, but it only looks that way because he’s following instructions even he himself can’t hear.

Much like Dagen, Bulat, and Jorani, Wang Bao also heeds my unspoken advice without hesitation, though I can sense his inner turmoil holding him back. He doesn’t get enough credit for all his hard work and dedication, which I know doesn’t come easily to him. This is a man who literally lived a bandit’s life, taking what he pleased without caring about the consequences, yet now, he is one of the most disciplined soldiers of the retinue. He’s as fierce a Warrior as any, but it’s his willpower which makes him stand out, because deep down, he is still the same black-hearted scoundrel who plundered and butchered at the Red Devil of Sanshu’s side. Though Wang Bao has long since left his past behind and turned over a new leaf, he still has the same lack of morals and murderous urges buried within, a near psychopathic mindset that sees himself as a wolf among sheep. The only difference is that he no longer lets the wolf run free, and while he yearns to break free of his constraining restraints to become the wolf once more, he knows there’s no going back if ever succumbs to his dark urges again. What’s more, in becoming a guardian to the flock, he has found a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction he never experienced as the hunter, so he continues to play his part as the fine upstanding citizen he wishes he could truly become. That’s why he’s so grateful to me, because I gave him a second chance he feels he didn’t deserve, and because of that, he wants to be a better man than the monster he thinks he is.

Much like courage is not the absence of fear, integrity is not the lack of immorality, but rather the ability to hold fast to honour and virtue despite the temptation to do otherwise. In this, Wang Bao is second to none, for he knows sin and temptation better than most, so while he might not have been born a good man, I believe that so long as he strives to be one, then he has already succeeded.

“There’s no need to fear your anger,” I tell Wang Bao, but again, not in so many words. “It is a part of you that will never go away. Fear only gives it power over you. Embrace it and master it so that it can never control you again.” Unlike with Binesi, Wang Bao understands the gist of my message immediately, and he lets loose with a roar of fury which sets his foes to shaking as he stops holding himself back. No further guidance is needed, for if there’s one thing he knows, it’s how to kill a man, Defiled or otherwise.

Several times now, I’ve helped the Warriors of my retinue, which makes my failure with Binesi stand out that much more. Belatedly noticing there’s more going on, I absently ‘recall’ how I’ve been lending aid to the other Warriors of my retinue without noticing, or even consciously trying. From my perspective, it’s as if I’m providing a passive buff on the macro scale with my presence alone, and I only become aware of what I’ve been doing when I focus on one specific person at a time. Bulat, Dagen, Jorani, Wang Bao, and Binesi all received my advice at more or less the same time, alongside so many others, but my mind is unable to keep track of everything happening all at once. I can only perceive events in a sequential fashion one at a time, but that’s a small price to pay considering I’m able to lend a hand without even needing to try, so I take my time and watch the battle unfold from a dozen different perspectives.

Ral, Chey, Ravil, Siyar, and others all heed my unspoken advice without hesitation, each one stepping up in the own way to help hold the line, but the one who stands out the most in Lang Yi. Silent as a Wraith, he fights without pomp or pageantry, but his moves are eye-catching indeed, for after coming to terms with his loss of love and hatred for those who took her, he has progressed by leaps and bounds along the Martial Path. So far that in some ways, his spearmanship is superior to Binesi’s and YuChun’s, though only in technical and theoretical terms. It’s more than just picking the right Movements to use, but also how he sets up his strikes to always target more than one enemy at a time, and he needs no aid from me to achieve this. With his first move, he skewers three Chosen on his spear, piercing through their throats with one swift charge as if they all just lined up for him to kill. Every sweep, strike, and thrust affects at least two Defiled each, and he does so as effortlessly as breathing.

A month ago, I might’ve said this was One with the Spear, One with the Self, and One with the World, but I see now that I would’ve been wrong. What he’s done here goes beyond all that, because he’s taken all these core concepts alongside a few others I don’t recognize and condensed them down to something more advanced, something that is both straightforward and infinitely complex at the same time. With spear in hand, he has become something akin to a force of nature, as if Blessed by the Spear itself, and I can think of no other Warrior who can match him in this facet alone.

Which is how Lang Yi, a former fisherman turned Martial Warrior who isn’t even an Expert, almost claims the life of Mataram YuChun, and in doing so, saves Binesi from near certain death.

Alas, Lang Yi’s base speed and strength are both too lacking for his thrust to land, and he most certainly would’ve died to the counter if not for Jorani holding YuChun’s spear back, as well as the combined efforts of Dastan, Wang Bao, and Chey, all of whom coordinate their efforts as only veterans of a hundred battles could. Though I know I’m helping in some minor ways, it pains me to sit and watch as my comrades are beaten bloody in one fell swoop, but I noticed the Azure Ascendants waiting in the wings some time ago and know they’ll step in if things get bad. Much as I would love to help out even more, I’ve an inkling suspicion that the Tyrant OuYang YuHuan will be even less responsive to my advice than Binesi, and I think I know why.

On a sidenote, Naaran really knows how to play to the crowd, belittling a Lieutenant General with only a few scant words. I didn’t know he had it in him, but I can see why he’s such good friends with Dad.

To confirm my hunch regarding my unreliable attempts to give advice, I head back to the docks where my body is strapped and ready for transport, while doing my best to ignore the indignity of my situation. To be fair, if I didn’t want to be carted around like luggage, then I shouldn’t have fallen into a coma, so really, I only have myself to blame. Seeing Li-Li struggling to get Princess back into her shoulder bag, I stop to watch the weasel-bear’s silly antics, but something tells me there’s more going on than what meets the eye. Sweet Princess is scared, but it’s not the battle which concerns her, because if it was, she’d keep glancing at the walls. No, there’s something else bothering her, a closer, more immediate threat than the distant fighting, but I have no idea what it could be. Whatever it is, I can tell Princess is scared, but not so scared as to become clingy and fearful. Instead, her efforts to stay with her favourite person stems from a desire to protect her, as if she thinks Li-Li will be in danger without her.

Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to test my theory, I gather my emotions and convey a message to Li-Li. “Bring her,” I say, without using any words at all. “Maybe she can help.”

Not sure how, but I’ve a gut feeling, and Princess is a stubborn girl wholly deserving of her name. She’s made her mind up to stick with her favourite person, so even if she’s left behind, she’ll just find her own way back to Li-Li on her own. Thankfully, judging by how she turns to look at my body in confusion, the half-cat seems to understand my message, and better yet, takes it to heart with little to no hesitation, proving my theory right. The reason why Binesi couldn’t ‘hear’ me isn’t because he was ignoring my messages, but rather because they’re not even reaching him in the first place. If emotions belong to the realm of the soul, then it’s possible that only people who trust and accept me can receive them in this form. What’s more, only the people closest to me can parse through my emotions, and there’s no one who understands me like Li-Li. She gets me in a way that not even Lin-Lin can match, because while Mila, Yan, Alsantset, and everyone else are all happy to give me the space I need, none of them really understand why I need it. Li-Li gets it, and more importantly, she doesn’t judge me for it, because she understands that it’s not that I need time away from the people I love, but rather that I sometimes need to be alone with my thoughts.

I don’t understand it either, but it is what it is, and Li-Li gets it. Huffing a small sigh, she puts on the shoulder bag and lets Princess crawl in, and I coo as the weasel-bear emerges with a honey-cake in each paw. “Hey pretty girl, you look after Li-Li okay?” Though Princess shows no sign of having heard me, she nuzzles up against Li-Li’s side and nibbles away at her treats while staring at the wall up ahead. Curious to see what’s got her hackles in a fluff, I take a moment to bid sweet Mila goodbye before I leave, but not in so many words or even emotions, more of a mental farewell than anything. Though she’s concerned about her father, my freckled, redheaded wife is one of the strongest people I know, and she doesn’t need me distracting her before a big fight. Much as I would love to support her in this moment of weakness, revealing my presence would likely do more harm than good, so I leave her in the arms of her father and head off towards the front lines with Li-Li and Princess.

Upon my return to the battlements, I immediately notice the change in atmosphere, but only because I was looking for clues to what might be bothering Princess. It’s not evident at first glance, or even second, or third, but as I watch the soldiers of my retinue battling against the Defiled in abject silence, I can almost taste their despair lingering in the atmosphere. Even though they are still holding strong, Imperial morale is slowly being chipped away by the oppressive mood, one devoid of the customary glee or satisfaction from a battle well fought. Ordinarily, I would think that this was simply because Mataram YuChun was too formidable a Peak Expert, but the Tyrant is doing a fine job holding out against him, though partially because Lei Gong is watching from the wings, ready to unleash a bolt of lightning the first opening he sees. As such, morale should be improving all across Meng Sha, especially in light of Situ Chi Gan’s contribution to the cause as he mounts the Ebony Reaper’s head atop his own ragged banner pole and waves it about for all to see.

The old Guardian of the Situ Clan is built different, that much is clear, but even his heroic display of strength and disdain isn’t enough to lift the spirits of the Imperial soldiers. For long seconds, I struggle to find a reason for this depressive atmosphere, one that reminds me of what I experienced in LuZhou. It’s nowhere near as overwhelming as the slaughterhouse scene I uncovered at that first harbour, where the Uniter sought to elevate death into an art form by blanketing the area in atrocities as far as the eye could see. In doing so, he transformed the area in a veritable font of hatred and violence, misery and regret, but rather than the palpable air of death of suffering I found in LuZhou, the Aura is far more subtle and indistinct here.

And Aura it is, but not one emanating from an individual or Demon, but rather from the area in and around Meng Sha itself.

A realization I only reach thanks to Yuanyin’s seemingly meaningless ramblings, something about how a single spark is enough to light a mighty beacon of hope. There is something foul afoot here in Meng Sha, something spewing hopelessness and despair into the air to infect the mind and spirit alike, but I cannot for the life of me understand what it might be. Had I remained here on the wall instead of heading back to test my theory, I doubt I would’ve even noticed it creeping up on my psyche, the same way a frog in a pot doesn’t notice the water slowly heating up around it. That’s why the Defiled are going all out without fear, because while it seems like this can only end in mutual destruction, they believe this insidious Aura will tip the scales of power in their favour and drive the Imperials to despair and defeat.

Which means we’re fighting against the clock here in Meng Sha, unless I can do something about it.

I get it Mother in Heaven, these trials and tribulations are meant to make us stronger, but why is it that I’m always the one left to pick up the slack?