Chapter 450

Chapter 450

While going through my daily stack of letters and reports, it occurs to me that duty is a funny word and terrible burden.

As a Second Grade Warrant Officer, I am duty-bound to defend the Empire from its enemies, despite so many of my allies working to see me dead or disgraced. Under orders from the Legate, I spent two months on the front lines, staying longer and accomplishing more than any other officer there with me, yet instead of learning from my tactics and choice of equipment, my peers openly derided me for using bows, crossbows, cattle, and chariots, the weapons of peasants and cowards alike. Sitting on my table are more than a dozen letters from officers and nobles in Sinuji, presumably offering kind advice but really theyre little more than thinly veiled verbal slaps to the face, recounting my failures and laying them firmly at my feet. Too many Defiled? Shouldve stood and fought with more courage. Wraiths? Why didnt I notice them earlier? Demons? Bring more Experts, stupid.

Throwing the letters aside, I sit and stew in displeasure at being stuck in Sinuji, where every random Wraith, Demon, and assassin knows to find me. Im so vulnerable and exposed I cant even take a shit in comfort and privacy, yet no one has anything to say regarding gratitude or respect for my efforts. Instead, judging by the rumours and letters on my desk, it would seem most people think Im not doing enough despite having done more than anyone else my age or rank. I can thank the Legate for this. By crowning me Number One Talent in the Empire after a best of one tournament with extremely limited participation, he turned me into a target for every young talent in the Empire, my wives included. Everyone wants my lofty title and since the Legate has made no moves to protect me, my rivals sense Im fair game.

To make matters worse, the public expects me to be a shining example of virtue and righteousness, because Ive been gifted these talents by the Mother, so I must prove myself worthy of her Blessing. My achievements have nothing to do with hard work, ingenuity, or excellent training, no, my victories have been ordained by Heaven and accomplished despite my disgraceful tactics and cowardly choices. As for the failures, those are all my own, the consequences of my sins and a sign Ive lost the Heavenly Mothers favour, if the rumours floating around are to be believed. Already its gotten to the point where everyone knows I slunk back to the fort with my tail between my legs, and now Im somehow solely responsible for the poor morale plaguing the front lines because Im an overbearing, hot-headed savage who let his newfound status go to his head. Stories of my unbridled arrogance paint me as a monster whos been banished to the outskirts of Sinuji because I had a soldiers tongue ripped out over a heated exchange of words, a tale which conveniently leaves out whose tongue was ripped out and what words were exchanged. Lies built upon a kernel of truth, which makes it that much harder to disprove.

This brings me to my next point. If I had proper backing, no one would dare whisper these lies about me, but as the first and only external Imperial Consort, I must uphold the honour of the Imperial Clan while drawing on precious few of its benefits. Things mightve turned out differently if Id accepted the Legates offer to be his bitch-boy, but such is the price I pay for freedom. I must be humble due to my origins, yet prideful of my lofty status, noble and eminent as befitting an Imperial, yet courteous and respectful lest I be accused of vanity, pretension, or overstepping my bounds. The nobility envy my title and constantly test the limits of my newfound status, while at the same time endeavouring to get in my good graces to exploit me for all Im worth. They expect me to play their games of politics with the odds stacked against me, and whether I play well, play poorly, or choose not to play at all, my actions will offend someone assuming my existence doesnt do it first. With each passing day, my list of enemies grows ever larger while the allies I can count on remain few and far between.

In short: duty sucks, responsibility sucks, politics sucks, army life sucks, and the Empire sucks.

Most days, I dont give a rats ass about public opinion, but all the hate gets to me sometimes, and today is one of those times. I almost died more than once yesterday, and I lost good soldiers to Wraiths and Demons, yet no one gives a shit. I also learned how to use External Chi and charged a Demon to distract it, but the first item isnt exactly useful yet while the second was kinda stupid and not worth bragging about. Besides, its not like I couldnt manifest Water Chi before. It sticks around longer than before, but its hardly the powerful breakthrough Id hoped it would be. As evidenced by my little bout with the Wraith, Water Chi isnt exactly deadly, but Yan had no helpful advice to share. All she does is slash with her Wind Chi, and the wind slashes, like it somehow makes sense, except it doesnt. When was the last time someone was cut by the actual wind? Never would be my guess. I mean, the wind can carry things which might cut a person, but cutting with the wind itself? Absurd.

Yans experience directly contradicts Guan Suos cryptic advice about water being water, but the grumpy old man refused to show his face after I asked him about Concealment, so instead of thinking up better ways to use Water Chi, I spent the rest of yesterday alternating between apologizing to empty air and covertly searching for hidden guardians, assassins, and smoking half-red-pandas. Even now, as I sit alone in my yurt, my eyes are drawn to the shadows in search of unseen observers, my paranoia magnified by the very real possibility that there could actually be someone there. It doesnt help that it feels like Im being Watched, which is an actual thing Experts do. According to Luo-Luo, I should always behave as if theres someone Watching, or better yet, never be alone, which sounds like my personal version of hell. I couldnt sleep a wink last night because I kept wondering if there was an Expert standing next to my bed, so I tossed and turned about while randomly flailing my arms and legs, hoping Id hit someone and reveal them. What Id do next was up for debate, but I even left Mama Bun with Song because I didnt want to be seen cuddling floofs.

Thats how bad things have gotten. How is a man supposed to survive without floof cuddles?

In a foul mood thanks to the lack of sleep, cuddles, privacy, and overall personal strength, I finish going through the unflattering reports before going about my other duties. With Argat laid up with his injuries and Lei Gong still asleep, I make do with Ping Ping, my Death Corps guards, and hidden fake Khishigs to guard me as I set out for inspection. Why my secretive saviours refuse to show themselves is a mystery, but short of asking Lei Gong to force them out into the open, theres nothing I can do except leave them be. Colonel Hongji didnt know anything about them, so maybe theyre Imperial agents or something, here to make sure the Legates sacrificial pawn doesnt die a meaningless death.

Wandering about the camp with my escort, I check on my soldiers and yearn for the days when I could banter and joke around. Now its all business all the time, as the soldiers of my retinue have bought into the propaganda and are afraid to chat and laugh with me like before. My mere presence is enough to turn brave warriors into nervous wrecks, so being the compassionate person that I am, I do my best to leave them alone as much as possible. Sadly, this means I have precious few people to talk to, especially since Yan wants to keep our relationship professional while out in the field. This isnt to say I cant have a normal conversation with her, but despite her insistence we behave like colleagues and not lovers, Yan enjoys teasing me into utter frustration, frustration which I can no longer... vent since people could be Watching. Song isnt much for conversation either, and though she is available to talk at, Id rather avoid falling more in love with her if I can help it.

Settling down in a wide, open area, I make sure Ping Ping isnt touching me before drawing Peace and closing my eyes. Though I no longer need to reach for Balance to gather Chi, I do so regardless because sometimes it helps me think. The Energy of the Heavens is unruly as ever, a torrent threatening to sweep me away, but I struggle and endure to resist the undercurrents. Its a world of difference from Devouring Heavenly Energy for Chi, but the familiar conflict sets my mind at ease and I set to pondering the mysteries of Water Chi.

If Water Chi behaves like water, then how do I turn it into a weapon? Hone it?

Taking a deep breath, I take a few minutes to calm my mind and reflect on how I got here. Its been years since Ive practised with a striking post, and the first time around, I used it to practice Honing with Peace. Today, years later, Im standing before a striking post to practice Honing again, but this time, its not with my sword.

Im going to Hone Water Chi.

It makes sense right? If water is water and requires outside assistance to do non-water things, then why cant I use Honing to make water cut? I dont understand how Elder Ming made an actual sword of water or how Pudge made tentacles, but if all I want to do is cut, then Honing is the skill to use. With this in mind, I hold Peace horizontally before me and focus on the flat of the blade. If I want to wield Water Chi in battle, I cant be popping into my Natal Palace to prepare, so Ill need to learn how to materialize it with eyes wide open and its best to start now. Time passes as I picture the cold metal drawing moisture from the warm air to form beads of dew across its shiny surface, but reality is not so kind. My first attempt is a failure, as is the second, and the third, but then I stop counting. Try, fail, repeat, until finally, I succeed, my focus sharp as the blade I hope to forge. The Water Chi pools across the flat of my blade and I command it to Hone, envisioning the water churning about in a whirling chain of jagged edges. When the time feels right, I flick my wrist and launch the stream of water at the striking post, where it splashes across the metal and does little else.

A failure, but again, this is nothing new. How many times did I fail in front of my first iron striking post? A thousand? Ten-thousand? It doesnt matter, because eventually, I succeeded, as I will eventually succeed with this.

Eventually.

Maybe.

I hope.

Fuck, there goes my focus.

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