Chapter 628

Chapter 628

As the sun rose over the horizon and the Enemy marshalled for the attack, Dastan stood ready and waiting upon the walls of Castle JiangHu, eager to greet his foes with axe and shield in hand.

There were no tribal chants or macabre exhibits to weaken Imperial morale, no mocking screams or daring displays to entice a duel, none of the usual precursors to battle when facing the Defiled, for these were no mere tribal savages. No, the forces arranged against Castle JiangHu today were far more insidious than the usual heathen outlanders who worshipped the Father through torture and bloodshed. These faithless foes, the so-called Chosen dressed in their yellow brigandine armour with red-plumed helmets and marching in tight, disciplined formation, were former Imperials themselves, men and women of the Empire who knew enough not to wholly give in to base desire, yet accepted the Fathers lies and willingly fought on His behalf. At least the foreign Defiled had the excuse of not knowing any better, but these Chosen had willingly turned against the Mothers light and marched against the Empire itself, because they believed their reasoning sound and their cause just.

In another life, one in which the Golden Highlands Coalitions bid to conquer Sanshu succeeded and the Northern Wall was overrun, Dastan might well have counted himself as one of the Chosen, marching alongside Defiled auxiliaries to overthrow the corrupt Emperor. This, more than anything else, terrified him to the extreme. On some levels, he sympathized with their cause, for their plight had been caused by the Empires negligence when they abandoned the entire Western Province without a fight the moment the Enemy broke through the Wall. However, while he understood the desire to rise up in rebellion to depose the Emperor, he couldnt reconcile this with the depraved acts of torture and torment which were arranged for Castle JiangHus benefit. How did one go from a law-abiding, Mother-worshipping, Father-fearing citizen of the Empire, to a Chosen who forced captured Imperial soldiers to torture other prisoners, in the span of a single year? Perhaps less even, as the entire province was not conquered in a day, for surely Imperial Heroes made ready to resist as soon as the Wall fell. Were the morals of humankind so easily perverted? Were their virtuous ideals truly so fragile?

As much as he hated to admit it, the answer was yes, and he hated knowing it could have been him leading the charge against an Imperial fortification if not for Divine Intervention, because what else would one call the actions of the Mothers Chosen Son?

Pounding drums sounded the advance, and the Defiled Chosen set out across the field, marching at a steady pace to the percussive rhythm, one which was neither fast nor slow. Once they entered range, Imperial horns raised a clarion call and the catapults creaked and clacked in response, unleashing their deadly payloads to whistle through the air like the piercing screams of the vengeful dead. Landing in an explosive spray of dirt and blood, the catapults drew first blood as they often did, but the zealous Chosen responded by picking up the pace almost before the beating drums could give the order. This was a mark of trust in leadership, with Officers anticipating their Generals intentions and preparing to follow through, something Dastan only read about and never saw in action until the Chosen took the field. The Enemy soldiers and Officers had full confidence in their commander here at Castle JiangHu, and it showed in their actions as they marched, jogged, and eventually sprinted headlong into the waiting Imperial defences, silent as the grave save for the steady cadence of beating drums and thudding boots.

To make matters worse, the past few days showed that their near fanatical trust was justified, for their commander was a formidable foe. Castle JiangHu was superior to Fort Sinuji in every imaginable metric, with taller, thicker outer walls arranged in ways to funnel the Enemy into choke-points and killing fields, and an inner wall festooned with crossbows and catapults overlooking the outer. There were more than three times the number of soldiers in Castle JiangHu than Fort Sinuji, and almost twice that many Peak Experts and Demon Slayers, all commanded by Brigadier Hongji, a hero whod proven himself to be one of the most able field-officers in the Empire, but even then, the castle was almost overrun close to a dozen times in the last five days. Every few hours, a new crisis would arise and leave the defenders holding on by the skin of their teeth. While an unexpected assault from a cohort of Peak Experts and powerful Demons was to blame for the latest emergency, prior to this, the Enemy earned their near-victories through sheer numbers, ample training, and tactical acuity.

Dastan still remembered the surprise he felt on his first day in the castle, when the Enemy showed up outside the walls with reinforced ladders, stone palisades, and other makeshift siege equipment in tow. A logical development, all things considered, yet it was akin to seeing wolves working a forge or deer tending to a farm, a tale so absurd and fanciful he wouldve laughed outright if he overheard it at a bar. While the Enemy was a cagey and dangerous foe, Defiled tribesmen were more analogous to cunning beasts than devious humans, able to utilize tactics to some degree, but usually forgoing them in favour of raw strength. Even though their siege equipment was shoddy at best, ramshackle devices thrown together from materials salvaged from captured convoys and overrun forts from the front lines, the Chosen used them to great effect and almost took the castle walls that first day, and might well have if not for Hongjis superlative commands.

Even now, after having seen them in action several times, the Enemys teamwork and coordination still took Dastan by surprise. Usually, they attacked with a screen of expendable Defiled out front, mixed bands of Northern, Western, and Southern Defiled who threw themselves at the walls without care or regard for losses, but this time, the vanguard was made up of frenzied Chosen, crazed bastards who were almost no different from your run of the mill Defiled save for their fancy armour and helmets. Behind this thin screen of attackers were the Chosen elites, or the siege-breakers as Dastan and so many others had taken to calling them, holding their iron, bronze, and in some cases even leather shields overhead with one hand and their ladders in the other. Arranged in two neat rows around each device, the Chosen carried their ladders like a battering ram as they ran headlong towards the castle walls, weathering the storm of stones, bolts, and arrows raining down from overhead. Never slowing as they approached, the foremost Chosen relied on the efforts of their comrades pushing behind them to run straight up the steep, slick surface of the castle walls, all but flying over the parapets to land neatly atop the battlements, where they fought like Demons to hold their position. One or two ladders were easily defeated, but repeat this several hundred times along the outer wall, and the Chosen were bound to find success at least once or twice.This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

Every time the Enemy gained a foothold on the outer walls, the Imperials paid a bloody price to dislodge them, a price they could ill-afford considering the numbers involved. The first day was the hardest, because while it seemed like a simple strategy to counter, the reality of the situation was not easily explained. Given the opportunity, Dastan was sure he and his comrades could replicate the Chosens feat, but they were veteran warriors whod fought side by side for the better part of a year. How many Imperial units and retinues could say the same? Less than half, was Dastans best guess, and hed be surprised if even a tenth of those remaining Imperials could execute this tactic with the flawless timing and coordination demonstrated by the Chosen. Every ladder went up the Wall and delivered their seige-breakers within seconds of one another, enabling them to work together to cause mass chaos atop the parapets, form a bulkhead, and keep the Imperials from focusing the ladders down one by one.

This was but one of the many clues indicating the Chosen were better trained and more unified than the Imperials arrayed against them, for Warriors were a prideful bunch more focused on individual strength than anything else. Very few officers bothered training their soldiers to fight as a unit, but unfortunately for the Enemy, Falling Rain was one such officer.

Leaving the Chosen on the left to Sahb, Dastan moved as soon as his target came into sight, delivering a Reverberating shield smash into the foremost traitor and sending the brave fool sailing out into empty air before his boots even touched the battlement floor. The next Chosen appeared almost immediately after, already moving up before the ladder was locked in place so that two Chosen on the wall might become four, then six, and eight, and so on, but he had the misfortune to face Dastan Zhandos. His battle-axe slammed into the Chosens helmet, neatly parting the crimson plumage and glancing off the Rune-reinforced steel, but Dastan expected as much and unleashed his Domain solely along the edge of his weapon. The air buckled and burst as an invisible blade detached from his Honed axe, bursting through the atmosphere and sliding down the Runic helmet before cleaving clean through his opponents face and skull. As the body dropped like a sack of rocks, a muffled shout of surprise sounded out and Dastan surmised that the plummeting corpse brought the next traitor in line down with it on its journey to earth below.

This was the Severing Cut, his Talent which was far more versatile than he first expected. In fact, he discovered this facet of his technique almost entirely by accident when sparring against Sahb. They wanted to know if his Severing Cut could pierce through a Runic shield, though in retrospect, they should have probably thought up a better way to test it than for Dastan to simply utilize it against his second. It turned out that his Severing Cut could not pierce through a Runic shield as expected, but it could go around it. Unlike a physical attack which would glance off the Runic shield, Dastans Severing Cut redirected itself along the surface of Sahbs shield like a stream of liquid dribbling down the surface. Unlike a liquid however, once the way forward was no longer obstructed, the Severing Cuts momentum continued unabated, shooting forward to almost bisect Sahb at the waist during testing. Luckily, the stony Warrior was made of sterner stuff and an old hand at treating grievous injuries with Panacea, because a lesser man mightve bled out before being treated by a Healer. As far as Dastan could tell, his Severing Cut was nothing like Lady Yans Wind Blades, which behaved like a physical projectile, but rather it was more of an extension of his Domain, much like Hongjis Ethereal Palm. His Intent was to Cut, which meant his attack would do whatever it took to carry out his will, even if it meant bending the laws of the physical world to do so.

Allowing himself a small smile of satisfaction over his perfect execution, Dastan fell into the rhythm of battle. It was a simple matter of chopping every head that popped up the ladder, while also keeping an eye on his comrades around him in case they were in need of assistance. Technically, he could kick the ladder away after chopping the lock off, a clever hinged device which swung up over the parapets to bite into the stone walls and clamp the ladder in place, but then hed have no Defiled to kill save for those enterprising few who tried to surmount the wall through sheer effort alone. Better to kill Defiled as they came up rather than let them mill around at the base of the wall, where any fool with a Spiritual Weapon could cut their way through the stone and steel. It would take some effort of course, because even though most materials offered little resistance to a Honed edge, the walls were thick enough for three men to lay head to foot inside. Add in the possibilities of traps or soldiers waiting within to kill anyone foolish enough to try, as well as the utter dearth of Spiritual Weapons amongst the Chosen ranks, and few cared to try their luck at tunnelling straight through the wall.

For long minutes, Dastan slaughtered his foes with laughable ease until he noticed someone down the line in need of assistance. Calling for Camsul to take his place, Dastan sprinted down eight spots and shouldered Bulat aside, shifting the fat mans prodigious bulk out of the way just enough so that the blow aimed at his neck landed on Dastans shield instead. Swinging his axe low, he took his foes leg off at the knee, shearing through the mundane armour with ease before following through with a shield slam to send his foe toppling off the battlements and killing a second Chosen beside him with an axe to the neck. There werent too many encounters which required use of his Talent or even his Domain, because despite their teamwork and training, most Chosen were still fairly average as far as soldiers went, and Dastan was a fledgling Demon Slayer of no small renown.

Not that he cared for fame, so Dastan focused on his bloody work and fought like a man possessed, smashing, hacking, booting, and brawling his way across the outer wall and slaughtering every Chosen he came across. There was no challenge here, no battle of skill and wits, just a seemingly endless grind in which Dastan raised and lowered his axe time after time after time, but this did not mean there was no way to progress. During the harrowing withdrawal from Sinuji, hed joined the rearguard once matters grew desperate enough, and there he fought alongside some of the strongest Warriors in the Empire. Exarch Bralton and Exarch Eriene were awe-inspiring as they took up Dastans current role on the battlements, darting about the battlefield to lend support to whoever might need it. The pair defeated their foes through raw power alone, cutting though Demons like dry reeds until they kicked over the steel board that was the Dark Child.

In many ways, the married Exarchs embodied the dreams of so many Warriors across the Empire, Experts who reached the Peak of the Martial Path through sheer diligence alone. They had no Talents, no Blessings, no powerful Mentors or wealthy backers, lacking even a prosperous home city to support them with soldiers and supplies. Bralton and Eriene hailed from rival horse-rearing nomads who made their trade in and around the forests north of Shen Huo, and developed their skills over years of tribal conflict over the best grazing grounds. Since both tribes were so small they couldnt afford the losses, these conflicts rarely tipped over into bloodshed, and soon these matches simply became a competition between the two future Exarchs. As news of their prowess spread, they attracted the attention of a travelling Major. After seeing Eriene in person, he became enamoured with her beauty and sought to take her as his concubine, but the nomads refused and earned the Majors ire. This led to a heated exchange in which the Major killed Erienes father, only to be wounded by the enraged young woman in return. When the Major returned with loyal soldiers for revenge, Eriene pledged herself to Bralton if he would help her kill the Major, which he did, but only after refusing her hand in marriage.

Id be better off bedding your mare than marrying you, Bralton was reported to say, though Dastan could hardly believe it. Eriene was a rare beauty, with alabaster jade skin and eyes as clear as limpid autumn water, not to mention the fact that they seem happily married to this day, but sometimes, rumours gained traction because the truth was too boring to be believed.

That said, Dastan was not so egotistical to think he could match the Exarchs accomplishments and rise to the Peak of the Martial Path with only base Insight and the Forms themselves. Instead, he took inspiration from another warrior on the battlefield, the underrated Brigadier Hongji himself, whose fine control over his Domain allowed him to strike his enemies down in mid-air without laying hand or sceptre upon them. The Ethereal Palm, the Brigadier called it, which he used to pull the husband and wife pair aside and rescue them from what seemed like imminent death. While his strength was nowhere near as overwhelming as what the Exarchs displayed, the juxtaposition between overwhelming power and dexterous control opened up new avenues for Dastan to explore.

Prior to that battle, he believed he needed more Chi and a larger Domain to get the most out of his Talent, both of which would only come with time, but after seeing Brigadier Hongji in action, he realized the raw strength was not the only option available. Utilizing ones Domain to affect the physical world was nothing out of the ordinary, as most Martial Warriors did so unconsciously to bolster their attacks and defences, but the Brigadier had taken this basic aspect of his Domain and practised it to perfection. He even added in elements of Reinforcement and Deflection to allow him to use his Domain like a set of hands, grappling with foes from a safe distance or dragging wounded allies out of harms way. To Dastan, seeing this was akin to growing up in a remote village and thinking everyone in the world lived in some sort of blocky house, then going to Sanshu and seeing all the marvellous buildings for the first time. In this comparison, Dastan was the ignorant villager and Peak Experts were the majestic armoured gate houses, while Hongji was the towering Magistrates palace with its curved roof, elegant arches, and stunning zen gardens, a modern marvel of engineering and architecture.

This was a sort of mastery rarely seen in any Chi skill, much less one as basic as Domain deployment, and it was mind-boggling to think that Hongji had been languishing in relative obscurity before the West fell.

To this end, Dastan devoted his efforts to mastering his Talent, which as far as he could tell, was some mystical combination of Honing, Guiding, and Reverberation, as well as a few inscrutable skills he had no name for, because he couldnt really describe it. However, if he could learn how to be more efficient with these skills and apply that knowledge to his Severing Cut, it might one day become possible to utilize his Talent at all times in place of Honing, allowing him to unleash a barrage of nigh unblockable attacks. If such a day were to ever arrive, then his opponents would have no choice but to dodge his every blow, lest they fall victim to the Severing Cut. Progress would not come quickly, but it was still faster than waiting around for his Core and Chi reserves to naturally grow, and this had the added benefit of leaving him more Chi to utilize in other ways. To this end, he spent long hours in his Natal Palace perfecting his Severing Cut, and here, in the midst of battle, he made sure to utilize Honing, Guiding, and Reverberation as often and efficiently as possible.

Indeed, there are standards to be kept, after all. The bossmans boyish grin fell away as he glanced at the prisoners, his eyes narrowed in thought, rather than anger. So which one tried to fake his way onto the battlements?

Him.

Approaching Dastans prisoner with the intent to inspect him, Kuang Biao and several other Death Corps moved to bar his path, to which Rain responded with a sigh. Er, right. All Death Corps and Royal Guardians. Out. The Death Corps immediately obeyed, but the Royal Guardians hesitated. Seeing this, Rain explained, Personal secret. I have my Bekhai guards with me. That he did, with the fierce elder Naaran standing in the corner, and nine others Dastan recognized, but never got the name of. Now shoo. I cant do anything with you all crowding around.

Exchanging curious looks as they left, the Royal Guardians obeyed, and Dastan snickered as soon as they were out the room. I do believe they suspect youre about to do something to your prisoners. Seeing the bossmans quizzical expression, Dastan elaborated, Something... sexual.

Oh. Oh! Fuck! Cheeks colouring in embarrassment, he looked at Naaran who nodded in response before daring to give voice to his intentions. I was just gonna touch them. Not sexually, he added, not at all helping his cause. Just yanno... a... chaste touch of the cheek. Or wrist, yea, wrist is much better. Totally innocent, nothing deviant about it, I just wanted to check how Defiled these Chosen are..

Dastans mirth died away as he understood the bossmans intent, as he wanted to see if he could Cleanse the Chosen or if they were wholly Defiled and beyond his help. Though the Death Corps were gone, the Bekhai guards were no less devoted to keeping their charge safe, throwing the prisoner to the ground before devoting six Warriors to pin him in place, including Naaran whose sole purpose was to pin the broken hand in place for the bossman to touch. No doubt rolling his eyes at what he perceived to be overly cautious behaviour, he leaned over, touched the prisoners finger, and studied his restrained subject for several seconds before asking, You feel... any different? Less... murder rapey and more... remorseful?

Death to the sheep who follow the wolf into his den! Came the reply, and Dastan could see the Chosens eyes still burning with ire. Death to the Imperial Clan, false dragons one and all.

Arent you charming. Stepping away and wiping his hands on a handkerchief, the bossman turned to Dastan and asked, I take it he was convincing, else you wouldnt have bothered reporting it. How believable was he when he pleaded his case?

Thinking back on the haunted expression and trembling frame, Dastan replied, He missed his calling as an actor. Id have sworn he was telling the truth.

Hm. Turning back to the prisoner, the bossman kept his hands to himself this time and squatted down to speak. So, Im guessing theres a part of you in there that knows what youre doing is wrong. Maybe the Spectres loosened your bonds, and let the real you slip through a little, just enough to convince Dastan there. I suppose it backfired, else you couldve kept the charade up longer, but what I want to know is: do you regret your choices?

The Dog Empire left the West to rot, the prisoner snarled, spitting as best he could with his face pressed against the ground. And he would do the same to Central, North, and South if it suited him. Why pledge loyalty to a tyrant who demands everything and gives nothing in return?

You didnt answer the question. Ignoring the prisoners rhetoric, the bossman repeated himself. Do you regret your choices? Joining the Defiled?

Defiled, Pei! We are the Chosen of Heaven, and we will right the wrongs inflicted upon us by the Imperial Clan.

You told Dastan you served in TieJian. Unless that was a lie, then youve only been with the Defiled for a few days, but no doubt youve seen your fair share of atrocities already. Seeing the prisoner fall silent, the bossman tried a different tack. Youre Central-born? You have family here? Parents? Siblings? A wife? A husband? Kids? Friends? A pet? Youll never see any of them again you know. Even if I let you walk out the gates back to the Enemy army, youll never see any of your loved ones again. Do you regret your choices?

Even Dastan could see that the prisoner was conflicted, for his words did not match his expression. ...My only regret is that I cannot rip your heart out and taste your blood as it still beats.

Fair enough. Straightening up, the bossman looked out the open window and said, The fighting looks like its dying down. Put him over there, and when the Enemy retreats out of range, send him back by way of catapult. Alive, please, he added, causing Naaran to freeze in place. So he can greet them as he approaches. The Imperial prisoners fear the Defiled, so they surrender far too easily, in a matter of days even. We cannot allow this to continue, so its time to remind everyone how the Empire treats the Defiled: with utter contempt. Doesnt matter if theyre all dressed up in fancy armour and spewing righteous rhetoric, the only good Defiled, is a dead Defiled.

With how kind and caring the bossman usually was, it was easy to forget how cold and merciless he could be. The other prisoners raised a ruckus with their howls, but the bossman was unperturbed, going down the line and touching each one in hopes of Cleansing them of Spectres, but either his gift was no longer working due to his shattered Core, or every prisoner present was too far gone to help. In truth, Dastan was glad none of the prisoners could be Cleansed, because then the bossman would insist on saving them, and thereby forcing himself into an awkward position when it came time to explain this to the Empire at large. Even knowing he himself almost turned Defiled and was saved by the bossman, Dastan still felt uncomfortable about the secret getting out, not because he valued his pride, but because he feared the response would not be what the bossman expected.

Like he said, the only good Defiled was a dead Defiled, and even Falling Rains most devoted admirers might balk if they learned their idol had almost turned Defiled. A former slave was difficult enough for most to respect, but an almost Defiled would be universally reviled.

With the prisoners taken care of, Rain turned back to Dastan with a smile. Well, my friend, he said, glancing out the window once more to see how the battle was progressing. Its been some time since we talked. How have you been? Also, you dont have to answer if you dont want to, but did anything ever happen with Sorya and Anrhi? I know they made a big fuss about cooking you a meal before you left, and they were all giggly the next day, so... details?

Smiling as he looked upon his friends upright back, Dastan marvelled at how incredible a man this was. Even being Legate of the outer provinces hadnt changed his perspective, still a friendly, empathetic, mildly perverted young man who would hopefully change the world for the better.

Because if even Falling Rain couldnt accomplish this, then no one could.

Chapter Meme