There isn’t much to do on the front lines.

I mean, yea, it’s a warzone and people are fighting and dying and such, but aside from the increasingly sporadic skirmishes, there isn’t much else to do. I can’t fight, I can’t train, I can’t cook, and I can’t play with my floofs, at least not in the ways I want to. No rickshaw races or bear wrestling matches, no flying kites with the twins or chasing the wildcats through the forests, though in retrospect, I can’t do most of that now anyways. I can’t even research Zhen Shi’s notes without going through a risky and shameful process to hide it, which means I spend most of my time sitting around with nothing to do. I debate religion with the Abbot, argue Military law with Watanabe, talk strategy with Masahige, brief Nian Zu to keep him up to date, and discuss the finer points of physical medicine with the army Healers over tea, most recently with the one-eyed Taiyi ZhuShen who still won’t give up on obtaining a section of my skin to study.

In short, in the last thirty or so days, I’ve been teetering on the brink of unbearable boredom interspersed with brief but action-packed hours of excessive excitement, if one can call being afraid for one’s life and the lives of everyone around him ‘exciting’.

Reminding myself that boredom isn’t the worst thing in the world, I snuggle in beside Lin and pass the time lost in my thoughts while the soldiers and Sentinels gathered on Sinuji’s training fields do their best to progress along the Martial Path. As much as I miss being a powerful Martial Warrior, I sure as hell don’t miss the ever present compulsion to train and grow stronger for fear of losing face, reputation, or my life. Maybe even all three at once if I got unlucky, but now that I’m crippled, I’ve come to terms with my weakness. As I am, a child could kill me if they really wanted to and there’s little I could do to resist, but even at my best, any random Demon or Expert could’ve ended my life just as easily if I didn’t have people to guard me. The only difference now is my guards have more threats to assess, but me? I don’t need to do shit. My talk with Lin after blowing up at the Abbot really helped put things into perspective. Regardless of my level of strength, there’s little I can do to affect things, so what’s the point in being all anxious and afraid?

Plus, the Abbot showed me I can still sorta use Chi, albeit so far in only one specific manner which I have yet to replicate. While I haven’t seen Kukku since or spotted any Concealed Experts despite knowing they’re there, the single success means my shattered Core is still somewhat functional, if only in the sense that a broken cup can still hold water, for a short time at least. I’m broken, but not hopeless, though it’ll take years, if not decades to mend.

That isn’t to say I’ve completely given up on a speedy recovery, but there’s no sense getting all worked up and distressed about something I can’t fix. It sucks being weak, but being gloomy and apprehensive won’t change a thing, so I’ll keep doing what I’m doing without letting my situation get me down. While the dearth of entertainment makes it difficult to keep my spirits up, I’m handling it well enough, working at rehabilitation while doing my best to sway public opinion over to my side, though neither effort has seen much progress of late. It still takes effort to stand unaided or fill my lungs to the brim, but I’m now strong enough to amble around all day with my walker at a slow and steady pace, though the consequences of overexertion keep me rickshaw or palanquin bound more often than not.

As for the other thing... Well, I’m not one for small talk or glad-handing, and even Nian Zu’s efforts to drum up support have had little to no effect. Despite Dastan’s phenomenal talent and future potential, there’s been no public outcry condemning our situation even after a month-long tour in Sinuji. Granted, the front lines are nowhere near as hectic as they once were, trading daily raids for twice-weekly assaults, and even those have diminished into measly tantrums thrown by a mere sixty-thousand or so Northern Defiled tribesmen. The Southern brand of Defiled have yet to make an appearance, and the desert-dwelling Western variety have all but disappeared in recent weeks, which makes sense I suppose. The Defiled have always been outnumbered by the citizens of the Empire, but considering all Defiled are Martial Warrior equivalents compared to only one percent of the Imperial population, the disparity in total population doesn’t matter as much. Even then, the Western Defiled carried out a sustained offensive over the front lines for almost an entire year, and towards the end, they lost tens of thousands of warriors per battle, with multiple battles taking place over the course of a week, if not every day, so it makes sense that there aren’t too too many of them still kicking around. Those who still survive are the wiliest and luckiest of the bunch, and I daresay the most dangerous too, especially after surviving through so many life and death situations. These elite Defiled will also have had plenty of corpses to feast upon, and if the Abbot is to be believed, this means they’ll be that much stronger for it. He’s big on claims and light on facts, so I’m not entirely convinced the Defiled really gain strength from eating the corpses of their kin and enemies, or whether it’s simply the aftereffects of consolidating so many Spectres into one host who’ve convinced the poor crazed cannibals that there’s a good reason to committing these unspeakable acts.

Honestly, the more I learn about the Defiled, the more I empathize with and pity them, especially those born into the life. They got a bum deal straight out of the womb, and if it weren’t for a combination of ten percent luck, twenty percent skill, and fifteen percent concentrated power of will, I might’ve almost maybe could’ve turned out exactly like them.

...There was a lot of uncertainty packed into that one sentence, because let’s be real... no one wants to believe they might’ve become a monster if not for a series of improbable twists of fate. At least, I don’t, because that leads me to question my whole atheist-coloured stance on Divinity and religion in general, as well as the whole Mother/Father dichotomy going on. It’s a matter I’ve given a great amount of thought to in the past few weeks, mostly so I can convince the Abbot that those Deities don’t exist, or at a bare minimum, don’t give a shit about humanity as a whole. Spectres aside, I cannot for the life of me figure out why Imperials and Defiled share so many similarities, yet end up creating two almost antithetical results. It can’t be as simple as good versus evil, because that’s not how things work in the real world. Things aren’t inherently good or evil, not in nature, and while all of life is based on interactions between positive and negative ions, that’s in reference to electric charge, not morality. Why would Heavenly Energy be any different?

Disturbingly enough, Zhen Shi also thinks the same way, or he did according to how his notes read. No Mother, no Father, no heaven or hell, just energy, plain and simple. I’m not entirely thrilled about sharing the same opinion as a murderous torturer, but considering we’re talking about what I believe is a fundamental law of the universe, it’s hard not to concur with his train of thought. I mean, if Zhen Shi says ‘water is refreshing’, I’m not gonna change my opinion just because we share it, so really, there’s nothing wrong with agreeing with him, in this one specific instance.

Ethics aside, if Heavenly Energy isn’t Heavenly, and there is no good or evil to it, then where do Spectres fit into all this and why do they drive said Defiled to commit horrific atrocities? It’s been a question plaguing me ever since I became aware of their existence, but while debating with the Abbot and preparing for future debates in my bedroll late at night, I might have stumbled across the answer. I once likened Spectres to supernatural herpes as a joke, but I might’ve been closer to the truth than I thought. It’s not unheard of for a disease to alter an individual’s behaviour, like rabies or mad cow, so it’s possible the Spectres are something along the same vein, a metaphysical infection brought about by the manifestation of ominous thoughts. I’m living proof that humans unconsciously utilize Heavenly Energy to simply survive in this hellish deathworld, not to mention regrow teeth and probably fight off a whole host of mundane diseases, so it’s possible that we also unconsciously use Heavenly Energy to create Spectres as a self-defence mechanism, divesting ourselves of dark and morbid thoughts to fight depression and suicidal thoughts, just like I saw firsthand with Jorani and Awdar. They were ready to die, eager to even, but after birthing a Spectre which subsequently got Succed into my belly, they were... better. Not great, but not suicidal anymore, which was an improvement.

It also explains why there aren’t any beneficial Spectres, because we humans like to hold onto their happy times...

If my guess is true, then this means the Spectres are quite literally monsters of our own creation, and I believe Balance is to blame. Martial Warriors are taught to suppress their emotions, or even sever and cast them into the void, which sounds like a formula tailor made for Spectre creation. It makes a scary amount of sense to be honest, especially considering how it’s entirely possible the Old Healer is right and the Imperial Clan is purposefully propagating a flawed method of Balance to the Empire at large. Even the Abbot’s revamped method isn’t entirely correct, because how can going against one’s nature ever be considered Balance? It’s like if you were already missing one arm, and your solution was to chop off the other, but considering True Balance as he sees it is supposedly a method passed down by the Mother herself, and the Abbot won’t even entertain the possibility that the Mother doesn’t exist, our discussions never get any further than that.

Arguing religion with a holy abbot is like pushing water uphill with your hands. You work hard, get dirty, and exhaust yourself just to get absolutely nothing done.

Knowing the origin of Spectres brings new questions to light, like how did the Canston Trading Group take Spectres and turn them into Anathema, but considering it’s irrelevant to my current plight, I haven’t really delved into the subject as of yet. Also, Anathema terrifies me, seeing as they’re some kinda Super Spectre that not only eats away at our physical bodies, but also our eternal souls as well. I hope Mahakala made it out before they got him and is reincarnated as a bouncing baby somewhere, but I’m not entirely sure he did.

On that dark note, I bring myself out of my depressive thoughts and rest my head against Lin’s, literally leaning on her for support, both physically and emotionally. Sensing my need for comfort, she curls her arms tight around my waist for a reassuring cuddle, there for me if I need her, but also respectful of my love of silence. Solitude is nice, especially when you have someone close by who respects it, and there’s no one better than Lin to be alone with.

...That came out wrong.

...Well, I wouldn’t mind being alone with her. Like, really alone, without her hidden guards glaring daggers into the back of my skull, but that won’t happen.

Unfortunately, Lin is really the only one who understands my love of solitude, as not even my caring Sister really gets it. Seeing my miserable expression, Alsantset reaches over to smooth my hair, a habit she picked up when we rode together back when we first met. “What do you think, little brother?” Nodding towards the sparring grounds, she clarifies, “About your Consort’s Martial Skills.”

I haven’t really been paying too much attention because Luo-Luo’s sweaty figure in her skin tight outfit is too tantalizing a sight, but I caught enough to form an opinion. “She’s too fixated on looking nice. Her tailored armour, polished riding boots, and bejewelled headband all tell me she’s here to put on a show, and the audience is buying it.” In previous days, only the most dedicated soldiers and Sentinels bothered coming to the training fields, but today, the crowd is packed to the... well not rafters, but they’re packed. If not for Ping Ping’s arms huddled around us, I might not even have room to breathe with so many thirsty soldiers gathering to watch Luo-Luo prance about the field and twirl her flail, while avoiding Tursinai’s sickle with a dancer’s grace. I won’t lie and say it isn’t pretty, but honestly, it’s a bit... impractical and almost offends my warrior sensibilities, which makes me regret encouraging her along this dance-fighter route. Seeing Alsantset’s disapproving frown, I shrug and add, “You know it’s true. She even had to collapse on the ground all dramatic like, slowly falling with one hand pressed against her forehead, like a scene straight out of a play.” All while baring her glistening, heaving breasts in my direction, I might add. “Learning to fight from dancing is fine, but she’s still treating this as a performance rather than the life and death training it truly is.”

I know Alsantset agrees, because she glosses right over it and says, “You should be more supportive instead of treating her like a stranger. Do you not see how hard she had to work to reach this level of skill, all while managing your business interests? She does all this for you, little brother, yet you remain cold and distant.”

Because it’s the only way I can control my sexual urges around her. Plus, I won’t lie and say I don’t kinda enjoy bullying her a little, but only a bit. Okay, a lot, but in my defence, she’s so fun to bully. “That’s the problem Sister. She does all this for me, to become the person she thinks I want her to be. If I accept her for her actions, then she will never show her true self and I will never meet the true Zheng Luo. She will forever be Luo-Luo, the mask she wears in order to obtain my approval. It is deceptive, and I cannot love a lie.”

Still stroking my hair, Alsantset shakes her head and sighs. “So sweet, yet so cruel at times. You wish to know the true her, but you ask too much. From birth, she was cloistered away from the world to be trained as an Imperial Servant. A slave in all but name, yet she sees this as a privilege, and her purpose in life is to conform to the needs of her patron. You see her actions as lies and deceptions, but I see genuine effort and interest in her attempts to adjust to her new life. What you do not realize is that Zheng Luo and Luo-Luo are one and the same, little brother, for she herself is still discovering who she really is, and like it or not, you are an integral part of who she will become.”

Her part said, Alsantset walks away before I have time to rebut, which was smart because I didn’t have a proper one ready and would’ve said something stupid instead. Shoulders shaking as she giggles into my arm, Lin’s eyes light up as I look to her for support and am left wanting. “I already told you what I think hubby. You should really marry her. Luo-Luo is tall and pretty and so sweet with children, plus it means I don’t hafta handle any of your business stuff anymore.” Suppressing another giggle, she adds, “Plus, she’s so fun to bully ya? Oh hubby, you should see how wide her eyes get when she screams, like this one time, during a rickshaw race...”

Sweet Lin, a woman after my own heart. When her story is done, I tap her nose in reprimand and say, “I’ll try to be nicer, but I doubt anything will happen, not with me looking like this.” I try not to think about it too much, but after a month in Sinuji, a lot of old issues are cropping back up, like the pimples, body odour, and general grossness which all began when I lost my Chi-beautifying treatments and had under control for all of a week, if that.

Which raises another question, one I sink my teeth into while looking at Ping Ping’s giant head resting on the ground beside me. It sounds mean to say this, but I have no idea how she ever came to be worshipped as a Divine Beast, because she shares a lot of my... physical flaws. At first glance, she looks like something out of a monster movie, a jagged, reptilian beast with a spiked shell, sharp beak, and beady, black eyes which watch my every move. She’s a giant, gentle sweetheart with a kind soul, but that doesn’t mean her appearance doesn’t still terrify me on an instinctive level. It’s honestly a little ridiculous that she’s the shining example of the Mother’s presence in the Empire, especially considering she has the mental attitude of a sulky, overly attached toddler to go with her armoured saurian appearance.

Seriously... she’s supposedly an alligator snapping turtle cranked up to thirteen, but I’ve seen Ping Ping’s mundane cousins, and they’re nowhere near as metal as she is. In fact, I’d even go as far as to say she looks a lot like what I’d imagine a Defiled alligator snapper would look like, more menacing with her irregular surfaces and asymmetrically spiked shell much like the Defiled themselves are misshapen and malformed. It might sound like I’m hating on Ping Ping, but these are the facts: Heavenly Energy makes Martial Warriors pretty. Ping Ping is ugly, even for an armoured dinosaur like herself. Ergo, there must be something going on with Ping Ping that’s keeping her from becoming the beautiful terrapin heart-throb she’s supposed to be, and considering she’s supposed to be close to Divinity, I think there’s something to be gleaned from all this. Maybe my reptilian aesthetic senses are off, but comparing Ping Ping to Pong Pong is like night and day, and not just because of their sizes. Although his hygiene leaves much to be desired, Pong Pong is a stunning Adonis of a turtle with smooth, rounded edges and a hypnotically symmetrical pattern etched into his shell, the vibrant yellow marks standing out from his dark green skin. Meanwhile, Ping Ping’s yellowish-brown markings seem scattered about at random, with no pleasing pattern or overall motif to catch the eye, as if her discoloration is the result of some disease instead of being her natural appearance.

It’s okay Ping Ping, looks aren’t everything, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say you were ugly. Man, I feel terrible about even thinking it. You’re a sweet girl and I love you to bits. As soon as my people figure out rubber, I’m gonna make you a giant floating ball to play with. Oh, just imagine the havoc we could wreak after I teach you to play fetch...

Fun and games aside, all of this musing on my ugly self and even uglier Defiled brings to mind Jorani’s experience at the Canston Winery, more specifically his second visit with Du Min Gyu in tow. Their trip almost ended in disaster when a Defiled Ancestral Beast made an appearance, a mole-rat lady who according to Jorani looked like a half-melted mess of skin and warts. Her ugliness isn’t what’s important here, but rather, something she said while toying with the three Peak Experts sent to the Winery. Eccentric Gam called her ugly, and Jorani said she called her physical form a temporary set-back, one she would fix once she rediscovered how everything works. ‘I did so as a beast, a creature barely capable of rational thought, so I most certainly can do so again.’

I never paid her much mind, what with her talk of calling mole-demons her babies making her sound nutty as a chipmunk in autumn, but it sounds a lot like she was talking about using Heavenly Energy. Is it possible that the path to true Divinity, to Pong Pong’s Divinity, lies not in Balance, but in embracing both positive and negative sides of Heavenly Energy? True Balance, which was exactly what the Old Healer told Jorani. Embrace all emotion, take love and hate, joy and sorrow, courage and fear, and let them flow through you in perfect harmony.

...Why do all the crazies make so much damned sense?

“Come brother.” Reappearing at my side with Luo-Luo in tow, Alsantset pulls me onto my feet and directs my Death Corps to gather my palanquin. “The Colonel General demands our presence.” Her brow furrowed and feet restless, she paces in place before switching to Sending to add, “The Emissary marches on Sinuji at the head of another army, and I fear he comes for you.”

To finish what Gen started, I suppose, or maybe Zhen Shi hopes I’ve had a change of heart and will accept his offer the second time around. Sitting in my palanquin, I reflect on today’s discoveries and wonder what I would do if he asked me to join him again, knowing what I know now.

He may be a murderous psychopath hell-bent on destroying the Empire, but he has so many answers I need...

Chapter Meme