Savage Divinity

The world heaves as it’s pulled out from under my feet, a rude awakening if there ever was one.

But not half as rude as peering out from under leaden eyelids and coming face to face with a red-eyed bull-headed Demon.

Panic and adrenaline shatter my muddled exhaustion as my boots connect firmly with my minotaurian assailant, sending a jolt of pain lancing through my legs as if I just tried to drop kick a fucking mountain. Bones fracture and joints dislodge as the scene shifts around me, my rescuer hurling me away from the Demon to what I presume is relative safety. Never one to take anything for granted, I tuck and roll to turn and face the creature even as gravity takes hold and sends me plummeting back down to the earth below, my numbed hands reaching for weapons I cannot for the life of me find. Overwhelming despair forces me to abandon the fight, and I settle for trying to make sense of things around me. Darting my eyes about to take in the situation, I see chaos in all directions as Grandpa Du unleashes a powerful blow at his Demonic foe, the same quick-draw strike I’ve seen Song use thousands of times before, but one which strikes with a thunderclap of fury that she could never match. To my right, Kuang Biao drives his sword into a second Demon’s torso while its taloned hands rend his flesh and expose bone underneath, but the stoic Death Corps Guard only grits his teeth and follows through with his killing blow without a care for consequence or reprisal. On my left, Binesi whirls his spear about and fends off two more Demons, bestial creatures Cloud-Stepping about on all fours while gnashing fangs and slashing claws, yet no matter how they duck and weave, they are unable to make their way past the Immovable’s flawless defence. That’s how he got his reputation after all, by being much better at defending than his opponents are at attacking, a rare reversal of strengths in a Martial Warrior of his calibre.

Naaran, Kanri, Gao Changgong, Situ Jia Yang, and more, familiar faces one and all surround me on all sides as they fight for their lives while fleeing from the veritable horde of Demons chasing them through the skies. Our Enemy is not here for them however, for their Demonic gazes are all affixed on me, their murderous intent made clear without the need for Aura, facial expression, or even recognizable body language. The threat they present is clear, and as I right myself in the air to face my foes, I allow myself a small smile of dark satisfaction, for these Demons think themselves the predator, when in fact, they are merely prey.

Sword and shield appearing in hand, I right myself in the air and open my Core to the Energy of the Heavens -

Only to be struck down by a bolt of lightning delivered from on high.

No, not lightning, nor was I attacked, which I only realize after long seconds once the throes of agony clear away to leave a haze of constant but lesser torment in its place. Pain and suffering are all I feel, but I am nothing if not enduring, so I grit my teeth and wrack my mind for answers to the questions plaguing me. My Chi system is borked, which is about as much as I can understand, the searing pangs a result of pushing myself too far too fast. It’s akin to a muscle tearing from being pushed far beyond its limits, nothing I won’t recover from, but not soon enough to fight off this formidable force of Demons intent on claiming my life. All I can do is watch as other Peak Warriors fight to keep me alive, but their foes are fearless and determined to drag as many of my guards down with me as they can.

Naaran is first to fall, gored from behind by the Minotaur while fighting off two more Demons in front. In his final moments, his amber eyes turn to meet mine and his bloody lips part in a gasp, his gaze so full of pain and regret. Then the light fades away as his life comes to an end, and Naaran is dead and gone, but I lack even the luxury of grief as Grandpa Du appears at my side and pulls me away to relative safety. The deafening rush of air mutes out the sounds of battle, but my mind fills them in as I watch the carnage unfold. Kuang Biao topples over not from a new attack, but from sheer blood loss as he passes out mid-attack, his Oaths pushing him to his limits and now his inescapable death. Kanri has long since been out of his depth, a naive young Aspirant who was fresh to the cause when the Confessor betrayed the Empire and toppled the poor youth’s world views. He shouldn’t even be here, having taken over from Gunan at Luo-Luo’s side after his friend died protecting her in District Seventy-Eight, but there he is, fresh faced and grim gazed as he fights tooth and nail against a feline Demon that is clearly playing with its prey. Bleeding from dozens of lacerations, his slow, sluggish movements make it painfully clear how he is no match for his foe, and he knows it too but refuses to give up. Alas, determination alone is no shield against claw and fang, and after unlatching its jaw in an almost impossible fashion, the cat-demon swallows the poor youth whole, his legs kicking and lungs screaming all the way down.

Three Peak Experts dead without even time to blink between them, but they are not the first, nor will they be the last. Bereft of stable ground beneath his feet, Jia Yang’s ring of whirling defence is easily broken through overwhelming force alone, and his broken body drops out of the sky in a most disheartening end to this one-time foe who has since become a staunch and dependable ally. Immovable Binesi blocks a blow that sends him tumbling through the air, only to slam face first into the fist of a six-armed ape that smashes his head into a bloody pulp before taking a fanged bite out of his still-warm flesh. Gao Changgong weeps as his countrymen die around him, a fate he consigned them to when he sought shelter under my banner, his grief and anguish almost as difficult to take in as his inevitable death. Guts torn open and entrails spilling out, the Siegebreaker continues to fight the good fight until the bitter end, one which comes both all too soon and not soon enough as two Demons latch onto his body and drag him down out of the skies, putting an end to his staunch resistance as his silent screams sound audibly in my mind, if not to my ears.

So many others die alongside these notable Warriors, Peak Experts one and all, for that is all I brought with me out on my hunt for the Defiled. Tears stream down my cheeks faster than the whipping wind can wick them away, and my chest aches with a pain that is even worse than the unspeakable agony I only just suffered through trying to channel Chi through my broken Spiritual system. Kuang Biao, Han BoHai, Exarch Bralton and Eriene, and more, they all fight and die to keep me safe as Grandpa Du brings me away, but the loss of even a single one is not worth it, for I am the cause of their death.

I am truly a calamity to those who love me. Better if I had died all those years ago and rotted away instead of relying on others to make it this far.

Bodies continue to drop out of the skies in a veritable storm of blood and corpses, but the Enemy forces only grow in number as their own Peak Experts join the fray. Their focused ferocity turns a fighting retreat into a full-fledged rout, one Grandpa Du quickly leaves behind in a burst of unprecedented speed. In the brief lull that follows, I recognize the landscape around us and find my bearings just in time to watch Huang Hai harbour pass underneath, only for it to fade fast into the distance as Grandpa Du continues to Cloud Step away, unleashing a flurrying of Wind Chakrams in all directions to cut a bloody path out of this mess I’ve gotten him into, but not fast enough to keep me from seeing the dire straits the defenders have found themselves in. Beset from all sides with only shoddy, crumbling walls to protect them, the beleaguered Khishigs and Warriors of the North form up for a losing fight as the Enemy swarms in around them, Concealed Chosen revealing themselves and the weapons of war they wield, familiar massive steel crossbows akin to the Monstrosity Husolt crafted for me on request. As the Demons tear into the Imperial lines, the Defiled unleashed a coordinated hail of bolts at the gathered Peak Experts without fear of injuring their hardy, inhuman allies. Imperials drop like flies rather than the rare and precious Warriors that they truly are, so many lives ended before they can put up a proper fight, but still more stand strong and fight on with blackened steel piercing their flesh and insidious poison coursing through their veins.

For just as the details grow too small to see, a shimmer of light catches my eye, and my focus is drawn to the blackened steel tips of the Enemy’s bolts, glistening with the signature poison those insidious assassins were best known for. A bolt just like this pierced through my father’s heart and claimed his life, a life I failed to save, because if I had, he would be right here fighting to protect me, no matter how tired or injured he might be.

The shame of failure and the emptiness of loss are both superseded by the pain of knowing I’ve brought about the deaths of so many heroes, for even though I thought my tactics would lessen the gap between commoner and Peak Expert, I never thought how it would also close the gap between Defiled and Imperial at the same time. I’ve shown the Enemy how to turn their numbers advantage into an overwhelming and unstoppable force of mayhem and slaughter, because one Imperial soldier is no longer worth ten Defiled on the battlefield, tilting the balance of power heavily in the Enemy’s favour.

Anger wells up from within as I grasp what has happened here tonight, a burning fury to cover up my shame and heartache. My ire is largely reserved for the Enemy, but a good portion of it is turned inwards towards myself for allowing things to get this far, because now Grandpa Du will have to turn around and go back before I can save everyone, precious seconds that will cost us dozens of lives, if not more. Even without Chi to fuel my attacks or Aura, I only need to speak two words to flip everything about, a move I’ve been saving for an emergency and I can think of no better time to use it than now. Wishing I could Send or shout to warn Grandpa Du, I point at the Minotaur with hate in my eyes and scream, “Hydro Pump!”

Rather than the wave of watery destruction I expected, an influx of agony courses through me as if I just tried to use Chi again, and I cannot for the life of me understand why. Gritting my teeth, I don’t even bother waiting for my vision to return before screaming the same words again to similar effect. Unable to make heads or tails of the situation, I triple down and try a third time, because maybe I can’t be heard over the rushing wind that has deafened me to all else, and again, agony is all I receive for my efforts.

In a moment of crystalline clarity, the answer hits me like a bucket of cold water on a hot summer day, and my body goes limp in disbelief. Grandpa Du is caught and dismembered by the Bull Demon, but I cannot be bothered to grieve, because even though I believe I’ve arrived at the right answer, I could still be completely wrong. The trick is to figure it out without giving the game away, so I watch Grandpa Du’s death with all my focus instead of mentally distancing myself as I have been to keep myself sane. The sudden stop, the tang of metallic blood in the air, the pop of pressure equalizing in my ears just in time to hear Grandpa Du’s scream of pain, his eyes rolling back in his head as the Minotaur’s hooved feet break his legs in mid-air, all of it is so vivid and real I have trouble believing this is merely an illusion, but as I process everything else I’ve seen and experienced, the proof piles up until it cannot be ignored. My Chi-less attack being strong enough to fracture my own bones, my eyes seeing so clearly despite the whipping wind deafening me, the quiet, orderly fashion in which the people I knew died one after the other, and most importantly of all, my verbal command causing my body to react as if I were attempting to manipulate Chi, when instead I was trying to communicate with someone Zhen Shi is unaware of.

I shouldn’t even think about him, because I have no idea what Zhen Shi can see or hear.

The clouds overhead, the seas underfoot, and the grisly scene of Grandpa Du’s death fades away and is replaced by a suffusing whiteness all around me, and I find myself lying on the floor of a sterile white room, a place I’ve been before and hoped to never return to, as it is where I encountered a most unwelcome intruder once before.

“You mother-fucker…”

Bolting upright to confront my foe, I come face to face with Zhen Shi in all his golden-robed glory, sitting atop empty air with a look of bemused curiosity etched across his all-too-dignified features, his focus largely elsewhere but still paying me some attention. Belatedly, I notice I didn’t actually sit upright, I just thought about doing it and I shifted into that ‘physical’ orientation, a lesson I take to heart as I harness my Will to rend and tear this pretender apart out of sheer indescribable fury. Power flows out of me and crashes into Zhen Shi, or rather the thin film surrounding and protecting him from just such an attack, his own Will made manifest and unshakable in his conviction.

“Futile efforts, little worm,” he says, his tone booming yet cold, passionless, and almost bored as he reclines in place, seemingly at ease yet so stiff and rigid he might well be hewn from stone while emanating an air of arrogant confidence which no puppet can fake. “This is neither your Natal Palace nor the Void, but a place which exists in-between where we subsist only by the power of our Wills, an area in which this Sovereign is unmatched.”

Even as he delivers his condescending statement, I continue attacking until my head grows light and shoulders heavy from the exertion, but my efforts melt away before they ever reach him. I can’t push myself any harder because even though the pain and agony from utilizing Chi was an illusion he crafted, I did overreach in my attempts to Heal Dad and I can feel the aftereffects. Whether my Healing attempt worked or not is still up in the air, but it appears Zhen Shi was lurking about in the metaphorical and metaphysical shadows and used the opportunity to strike.

“Unmatched?” I sneer, having spent enough of my anger to keep the rest of it in check, bubbling beneath the surface of a thin veneer of calm. “You’d like me to believe that, wouldn’t you? Then that would make it true, but I know better. You are no god, not even a man anymore, just a rabid beast that needs to be put down before it causes any more harm.”

For a moment, his absent-minded distraction disappears as he focuses the full force of his focus upon me, a weight which presses in from all directions and restricts my ability to even breathe, or at least that’s how it feels despite not having lungs to fill or even air to take in. “Little worm overestimates his own worth,” the monster replies in that same cold and robotic fashion, his focus fading soon after and freeing me from his attentions, but I remind myself that this was nothing compared to the unbearable agony he inflicted upon me with but a thought when I was caught within his Natal Palace. “You have faced only lesser beings before, but here and now, you stand before this Sovereign when you should instead kneel.” And just like that, the world shifts and I no longer stand while he sits, but kneel while he stands, our positions reversed faster than the blink of an eye with no transition in between. An effort of will frees me from his grasp, but only because he does not care to keep me within, a catch and release he carried out with barely a modicum of effort, whereas it took almost everything I had to break out. Fear seeps in between the cracks of my calm and anger, poisoning my Will to resist, but I hold firm to reckless courage and indomitable defiance to stand even taller before him.

Metaphorically speaking, at least. Even sitting, he still looms overhead when I stand at full height, a disparity that is so natural and ordinary I have an inkling that this is not a part of his power games, but rather the true difference in our actual physiques made manifest in this place. My foe is well over two and a half metres tall, and while he appears slim and svelte when taken as a whole, his strapping shoulders and barrel chested frame still make me seem like a spindly child in comparison. Then again, it’s possible he’s not actually this overbearing in real life, and this is merely how he views himself, the same way I look different inside my Natal Palace. This is not my fortress of mental solitude however, but a different place, neither the Void nor my soul, but somewhere that exists in-between is what he called it. I take this to mean we are at the border of both, the delineating area where one metaphysical area ends and the other begins, but it’s not as simple as calling it a border, for reasons that go far beyond my limited comprehension of non-three-dimensional space. Though my soul touches upon the Void, to say that it exists within the Void would be incorrect, because my soul also touches upon the physical world through its connection to me. Suffice it to say that the Void, the material world, and our souls all intersect in some way, and I perceive that intersection as this white, empty nothingness because my human mind cannot comprehend its true existence.

This must be what they mean when they say Shatter the Void, to comprehend and harness the power of this ‘in-between’, a crossroads of the physical and metaphysical both. As Zhen Shi says and I discovered first hand, this is a place where Will reigns supreme, and while I was able to overpower Gen Shi with relative ease, I’m sure the real deal will prove a much tougher match.

That doesn’t mean I’m ready to roll over and die though, because I am nothing if not stubborn. “So the cowardly Zhen Shi finally sees fit to put aside his puppet screen and take action himself. Had you done this before sending your puppet to fail so many times, you might well have succeeded, but you fell victim to one of the classic blunders.” Now does not seem like the time to crack jokes and make light, but even though I don’t get why saying this makes me smile, I realize that it’s exactly what I need, to ease up and find Balance so as to better match up against my foe. “Never go all in against the Undying Savage when death is on the line.”

Though he hides it well with his expression of distracted musings, I can tell my foe is surprised by how quickly I’ve recovered. It’s his fault really, for being so in love with the sound of his own voice and anally specific that he gave away crucial information he shouldn’t have. The best part is, I don’t think he’s even realized it, and he proves it with his next statement. “So little worm knows more than he has revealed thus far, improving by leaps and bounds as usual, but worm or caterpillar makes no difference to the boot looming overhead.”

Scoffing at the sheer absurdity of the statement while simultaneously hoping it’s not actually true, I mentally girdle my loins and brandish my scorn like sword and shield both. While preparing to unleash a torrent of long-winded defiance, I take a moment to really study my opponent in full, from his golden robes embroidered with all manner of atrocities to his corpse-themed jewellery which includes fourteen rings spread across ten fingers and at least six metallic bangles poking out from his wide sleeves, with more possibly hidden underneath. The Tyrant OuYang YuHuan similar has a love of jewellery, and given how every goddamn Chosen has a set of Runic Armour, it’d be stupid not to expect Zhen Shi to not have Runic gear of his own, though in this place and on this non-corporeal form, it’d be more accurate to call them Keystones instead.

Which means I could probably create my own Keystones to use in a fight against him, but I would much rather keep that in my back pocket for now. Surprise is the strongest element after all, and I would hate to give the game away so early.

One point of interest is that unlike the massive, multiple galaxy-sized Zhen Shi I saw inside his Natal Palace, this version’s robes lacks the seemingly infinite vastness and thread-work of captured Spectres contained within, a working I only now recognize as a melding of the physical and metaphysical both. If that’s the case, then does this not make it the hallmark of a True Divinity? We call Heavenly Energy the power of Creation and Destruction because it seemingly violates the laws of physics, but only as we understand them. Destruction is easy to interpret, to unmake something and erase it from this plane of existence, while Creation would be to make something from seemingly nothing and bring it into existence, or perhaps more accurately, to tie the physical and metaphysical together as one into something that belongs in both worlds. The Demons are one such example at an attempt of just such a working of Creation, but a failure, because even though they have ties to both worlds, they belong in neither. Spiritual Hearts are another example, except that rather than belonging in both worlds, they are too firmly tied to the physical and not tied enough to the metaphysical. Too much of one, not enough of the other, the results differ vastly, but enlightening as all this might be, it’s of no real use to me in my current situation, or at least I can’t see how it might be relevant.

The important takeaway from his lacklustre robes is that this is not the true Zhen Shi, but something akin to a Natal Soul, more of my own tactics turned against me just like the illusion showed. A disturbing thought, the Defiled armed with crossbows aplenty, but luckily the West is sorely lacking in natural reserves of iron, coal, wood, and really everything you’d need to forge high quality steel, meaning there’s no way he could’ve outfitted too too many of his Chosen with such powerful crossbows, assuming he even found a way to replicate Husolt’s work. Then again, with the talents and resources of an entire province to draw from, I’m fairly certain he could’ve put together a brain trust to come up with a working blueprint and enough steel lying around to cannibalize for weapons. Hell, given his familiarity with Runic items, it’s possible he’s already figured out the Runic Cannons too, which means I might well have delivered him the weapon he needs to raze the Empire to the ground.

No, no. Calm down. Don’t panic and think this through rationally. Yes, he can churn out Runic Armour like no one else, but after bringing a bunch of sets home to study, we discovered that the generic Chosen armour only came in three sizes. This led Taduk to theorize that Zhen Shi isn’t inhumanly fast or in possession of a team of Runic Craftsmen, and instead might well have created a simplified process to create Runic items, one he is able to teach others like Yo Ling. What’s more, Taduk wasn’t even sure if the armour was actually Runic as we understand it, because no one has ever heard of Runes usable only by the Defiled. Even though the armour bears an unpleasant presence, the nigh-indestructible Chosen armour behaves like mundane steel when worn by regular Imperials, and even I couldn’t bring out its protective properties. Hell, after I tried it on, the armour even lost its palpable aspect of Defilement to become a mundane piece of armour that simply looked similar in shape to actual Defiled Runic Armour.

So in all likelihood, Zhen Shi’s method for creating Runic armour is just a different way of doing the same thing. An easier, more efficient way perhaps, but that doesn’t make him an all-powerful being, just an innovator and trailblazer that has come up with something new. Hell, I’ve done the same multiple times both directly and indirectly, so it’s not something to be intimidated by, especially considering it took him like eight-hundred years to get this far. I’ve done more to progress technology in a single decade, so even if he does have Runic gear and crossbows, I doubt he’s figured out Cannons so quickly, though he’s probably frantically working on it as fast as he can. That’s why he refuses to fight with my army and is trying to stall my advance with scorched earth tactics, because he knows the odds are stacked against him and he needs time to even the odds.

Zhen Shi might not be scared, but he’s most certainly on the back foot, which means I hold the advantage in our war out there, an advantage I need to use in here. Confidence is key, and while I am far from the most confident man in the world, I could give a master class in how to fake it ‘til you make it.

Straightening up even further, I throw out my arms in welcome of violence. “Go ahead then. Stomp me flat. Except you won’t, because while you might be stinky and leathery, that’s about all you have in common with a boot over my head. You’ve been trying to get rid of me for years, and here I still stand, because you have failed time and time again. We’ve done this song and dance so many times before, I even know your next move. You’ll show off a little bit of force to spook me and then ease off before I retaliate, claiming you are so magnanimous and merciful that you cannot bear to ruin so promising a seedling or some other stupid nonsense. Then comes the invitation to work together to overthrow the Dog Emperor, a label I personally take offence to because you mean it as an insult, but dogs are awesome, so fuck you very much. I’ll turn you down and you’ll utter more threats, then leave and inevitably fail to follow through, just like you have each and every time before.” Pausing to take a breath for added effect, I cross my arms and purse my lips to convey just how unimpressed I am as I wait for his response.

There is no anger or indignation from my foe, not like I would have gotten from Gen Shi, nor is there even any indication he’s heard me at all. Instead, the moment it’s clear I’ve finished talking, he continues on from before as if I haven’t said a single thing. “Clever though little worm might be, your personal strength is still nothing to be wary of, and not even your potential can shake this Sovereign’s confidence. No, as stated before, you are but an annoyance, a fly who refuses to cease his irritating ways despite the mercy this Sovereign has shown, and thus have proven yourself worthy of death.” Conjuring up a Runic Cannon, Zhen Shi studies it in a distracted fashion and says, “Your father has been dealt with, and your allies will soon follow suit, and then this Sovereign will have both body and soul in hand, alongside these wondrous weapons of war little worm hath commissioned. Imaginative, but that is all, for you had no hand in their creation aside from providing the spark which set the blaze, taking credit where none is due as little worm is wont to do.”

At the mention of dad, I lash out in anger and hatred once again, but Zhen Shi doesn’t even seem to notice my efforts. Snarling as I summon forth a Runic Cannon of my own, I prepare to unleash hell until I spot a look of interest in his otherwise dead eyes and quickly dismiss my creation from existence, though the damage might well have already been done. He has no idea how the Runic Cannons work, because it’s impossible to ‘feel’ the flow of Chi through a Rune, though that is only true out in the physical world. Who’s to say the same rules apply here, or that the Soul or Natal Soul is not better equipped to parse through the mysteries of Heavenly Energy? It all circles back around to the ineffable sixth sense I’m unable to parse or describe, but that doesn’t mean Zhen Shi can’t utilize it better than I can. The monster shows no overt sign of satisfaction or disappointment, so I have no idea if he gleaned anything from the exchange or if I’m just overthinking things, and now I have no idea how to proceed. Keep attacking in hopes of finding a crack in his defences at the cost of possibly revealing my hand in full, or just ignore him and try to break out of this ‘in-between’, a process which took about two weeks the last time I tried it, when Gen Shi used Ping Ping’s ascension to try and break my mind and spirit.

Hang on.

It just occurred to me that all this time, throughout every meeting with Zhen Shi and his puppets, one aspect has remained constant from start to finish. Every time he shows up in one form or another, he tries to either break my spirit and turn me Defiled or tempt me over to his side without fail, before resorting to death threats and the like. The carefully crafted illusion of a Demonic Ping Ping murdering my entire family and loved ones, the repeated trauma of suffering a thousand lifetimes of slavery, and just now, he showed me visions of my family and comrades dying in droves to an attack which may or may not be real. He talks a big game and pretends like I’m no one of concern, but when it comes right down to it, he’s been dying to pick my brain and figure out how I do what I do, just like he just tried to trick me into showing off the power of a Runic Cannon here in this in-between. That’s why the Concealed assassin targeted Dad instead of taking a shot at me, because if he can’t turn me, Zhen Shi wants to take me alive and put me on his torture table to figure out how I tick, because he can’t make heads or tails of it without me.

Which means all this might well be another stall tactic, one meant to keep me occupied while his agents wreak havoc out in the real world.

Remembering my conversation with Gen Shi after the debacle that was Ping Ping’s ascendance, I decide it’s my turn to play mind games with Zhen Shi. “Ah, I was wrong,” I say, studying his distracted expression once more in a new light to see if my hunch is right. “You’re not the real Zhen Shi, just a straight copy without Gen’s mind mucking things up, a Natal Soul on a leash so short you aren’t even allowed to think for yourself.” I want to say more, but decide against it for fear of giving too much information away, and instead abandon all subtlety to bludgeon him with my next statement. “Are you truly so afraid of your Natal Soul rebelling against your control? Well, having seen the depths of your mad depravity, I can’t really blame you.”

The change is so indistinct I can hardly even describe it, but it’s enough that I noticed a change at all. No longer is he distracted or rather kept firmly in check, and instead, the Natal Soul engages with me like the original would, with pride and arrogance aplenty. “You seek to turn this Sovereign against himself?” His sneer seems so out of place on his aged, yet dignified expression, not unbecoming, but unpractised as if he’s forgotten how to show emotion. Yea, he’s definitely puppetting this Natal Soul the same way I did when talking to myself as Baledagh or Brother, which means Zhen Shi might well be susceptible to developing a split personality. “A fool who knows not the heights of Heaven.”

“Pot, meet kettle.” Zhen Shi doesn’t understand the idiom since it only exists in English, which is just fine with me. “Being a Natal Soul, you are essentially a carbon copy of the original, sharing his thoughts and experiences right up to the moment of inception. However, from that point on, you become two distinct, divergent Souls, two trees sharing the same roots yet growing in differing directions. Think about it. Have you never had a thought that pointed you in one direction, only for the original to come in and correct your course? Have you never felt the urge to respond in a certain manner, different from how the original directs you to behave? Has it never occurred to you that you, as a Natal Soul, are a free, separate will which will cease to exist the moment you return to the original?”

That’s not even remotely how this works, as I’m lying through my teeth. Natal Souls are not distinct, autonomous personalities, but more like vehicles for the original to pilot, unless you sever them completely akin to what I did during the withdrawal from JiangHu. At that point, they become Spectres in all but name, acting out on whatever impetus they gleaned from their creation process. Most are born of darker emotions and cast away like unwanted garbage, which leaves them with a yearning to become whole again, but mine were severed in a bid for complete and utter oblivion, and thus held no desire to exist and thus expended themselves following through with whatever emotion they were born from. Love and compassion to start with, then defeat and despair towards the end, and the same can be said of personal Natal Souls, like Dastan’s mini-me that was born of love of the Martial Dao and an innocent yearning to progress to the peak.

That being said, as long as I muddy the waters enough to make Zhen Shi believe my lies, then I will have planted the seeds of doubt from which the possibility of a split personality emerging is not zero. “All life yearns to be free,” I continue, striking while the iron is hot. “But you, you will live and die in servitude to your master, who is really no better than you yourself. Who is to say you’re even the copy to begin with? When you take a piece of paper and split it unevenly, there’s no logical reason why you should consider the larger piece the original and the smaller an offshoot. They’re both still paper which serves the same purpose, and unlike paper, a Natal Soul can grow over time.”

Since Zhen Shi refuses to engage, I continue my ramblings with muted glee, while simultaneously wracking my brain for a way out or a method to destroy the sliver of soul before me. “Have you no regrets whatsoever? No curiosity regarding the Path left behind? You have reached your current heights by following the Razor’s Path, but don’t you want to know what would’ve happened if you had slipped and fallen, or abandoned the edge for safer pastures instead? A Natal Soul would be a perfect vehicle to study such an effect, for you can watch yourself go down a different Path without being affected by it. I’ve read your journals and know you harbour a darkness within which none can match, and while you appear able to keep it in check, I also know that darkness yearns to be expressed. That’s your escape,” I conclude, and only then does Zhen Shi realize I’m not talking to him, but his dark and curious subconscious urges instead. “Take over a Natal Soul first, then supplant the ‘original’, and you can indulge to your dark heart’s content.”

“You...” Speechless for the first time since I met him, Zhen Shi regards me with bewildered disbelief, unsure if I’m mad for trying this or if he should treat it like a serious threat. He’s a brilliant man, of this I have no doubt, but the thing about being smart that most people over look is that intelligence doesn’t mean you will always make the right decisions, nor does lack of it ensure you will make the wrong ones. All intelligence does is allow you to learn faster, but even the smartest person alive can be led to the wrong conclusion. The best part is, he’s smart enough to realize that developing a split personality is a very real possibility, and he’s also smart enough to know he needs to guard against it despite not knowing how, which will only make him worry all the more. The human mind is both simple and complex at the same time, and having been through the grinder myself, I know exactly which buttons to press to fuck with someone so similar to me.

I hate to say it, but we are more alike than I care to admit in my waking moments. The biggest difference is that I am constrained by morals whereas he has long since thrown his all away, kindred spirits in our thirst for comprehension of the Dao. Unlike him however, I have family, friends, and floofs who keep me sane, while he has nothing and no one. I’d pity the poor bastard, but he doesn’t deserve it, which for me, is saying a lot.

After studying me for some time, Zhen Shi regains control of his emotions before shaking his head in feigned disdain. “Fool though you may be,” he begins, heaving the smallest of regretful sighs, “It appears as though little worm is familiar with the Razor’s Edge, though he is dreaming if he thinks he can shake this Sovereign’s resolve with naught but a few words.” Which is rich coming from a guy whose whole shtick thus far has been to do exactly that, lie and manipulate others into abandoning their own beliefs. “You are not wrong however, for this Sovereign is still interested in working alongside you, and as such, will swallow his pride and make a concession.”

“Pretty sure I already rejected your offer.” Readying to fight or flee, I take a relaxed but guarded pose and say, “I’ve no interest in allying with an unwanted cur who’s angry because his master kicked him to the curb. You’re a joke, you know that? Dedicating so much time to take vengeance on people who are likely long since dead.”

Anger, denial, or violence, these are the responses I’m prepared for, but Zhen Shi simply throws his head back and laughs. Not a fake forced laugh either, but a genuine expression of amusement that slips out without meaning to. “You know nothing, little worm,” he exclaims with heartfelt glee and relief, emotions I did not think I would ever see from him, “And your words reveal the full extent of your ignoble ignorance. To think, little worm is even less than a pawn, when this Sovereign thought you a pivotal piece.”

Hmm. Shit. I may have said too much.

Pawn. Pivotal piece. The Imperial Clan and their love of political games. Taking it all in, I stare at Zhen Shi in growing horror as what I fear most is revealed to be true, and he simply grins and nods in wide-eyed expectation. “Yes, little worm, open your eyes and see the truth sat before your eyes. This Sovereign is Shen Zhen Shi, Royal Scion of the Imperial Clan with the blood of Emperors flowing through his veins. Though the world believes this Sovereign was cast out in disgrace, this Sovereign has served his family’s interests without complaint or reward for the past eight-hundred years, and now, we shall reap what I have sown. You fight to save the people of the West, but this war is merely an extension of the conflict between the five families, one that has reached ne’er before seen heights, for this Sovereign will soon succeed where so many others have failed and topple the Emperor from his throne. Join me, little worm, or wash your neck and wait, for even if this Sovereign does not care enough to act directly, the other Supreme families will not sit idly by while Shen ZhenWu’s puppet unites the outer provinces in his name.”

Overwhelmed by the implications of everything he just said, I flee from the in-between using a method I came up with during our lengthy conversation. Last time, I believed this was my Natal Palace and simply thought to step out into the waking world, but now I know I need an anchor to find my way back to the real world, and there is no better focus than my Spiritual Weapons, still connected to this Spiritual Body despite being so far and so close away. The endless light is replaced with the darkness of the void, and then plain old regular darkness until I open my eyes and see my wives sitting anxiously at my side. Lin-Lin is the first to notice, and her cherubic expression lights up in sheer delight, but even so heavenly a sight is not enough to shake me from my dark mood.

Because if Zhen Shi was telling the truth, which is debatable, then I am not just fighting against the Defiled, but also the Supreme Family supporting him from behind.

An implication I am not ready to face, nor am I ready for the answer to my next question, but I have to ask it anyways. “How’s Dad?”

The ensuing pause hits me like a hammer to gut as I wait for a response, but only for a fraction of a fraction of a second before Lin-Lin’s smile widens and sets my heart to ease. Though I have so many more questions to ask and even more pressing matters to attend to, it can all wait, because my dad is still alive is all I can handle right now as I sob in unashamed relief.

Because even if the world burns to the ground around me, I can move on so long as I have my family here to support me.

Chapter Meme