Chapter 744

Chapter 744

Dressed and ready to start her day, Yan stopped at her beloved husbands cot to bid him a silent farewell and wondered how she ever got along without him.

The mornings were long and lonely these last two weeks after Rain slipped into yet another coma, but nowhere near as lonely as she suspected the days ahead would be. There was a time when she valued her independence, took pride in it even, but after wedding her cherished fool and experiencing the highs of blissful marital life, she no longer knew what to do with herself in his absence. Mornings were usually their time together, because in those scant few hours before Mila and Lin-Lin were ready to wake, Yan had Rain all to herself, a luxury she feared she would not have for much longer once he collected his final two wives. She didnt begrudge him for his lascivious ways, but she did so earnestly wish she could spend more time with him each day, though even if the days were twice as long and she his only wife, she would still yearn for more time to spend at his side. To see his smile, hear his voice, smell his scent, and feel his touch, this was all she wanted from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning until she laid her head down to rest at night.

Now, it wasnt just the matter of his divided attentions keeping her from her husbands side, for Yan also had to contend with the fact that he might not ever wake at all. Initially, everyone believed he would soon wake once he recovered from overexerting himself in an incredible feat of Healing in Huang Hai, but after twenty days spent without so much as stirring a finger, even Taduk and Lin-Lin were beginning to worry about his chances of recovery. Some mornings, Yan would wake and find him so still and lifeless that she feared hed passed away in the night, with only the heat of his body and the feel of his breath against her hand to reassure her that she still had a husband yet. This wasnt the first time hed fallen comatose and Yan prayed it would not be the last, but no matter how many times she went through this, she knew she would never get used to it. The uncertainty was the worst of it, for after the inexplicable events of that fateful night, Rain only woke briefly to ask Lin-Lin about his fathers health before falling back asleep soon after, without so much as a peep from him ever since.

According to Akanai and Taduk, they suspected Rain had somehow drawn upon the raw Energy of the Heavens to Heal his father, a feat which apparently overtaxed his still-mortal body, mind, and soul. The Mother demanded too much from him, and worse, he demanded much from himself, for when Yan heard what had transpired, she knew Rain wouldve blamed himself for his fathers injuries, even more so than the Wraith who wielded the crossbow. A foolish way to go about things, but such was his pride, believing himself so capable that nothing could ever go wrong without it somehow being his fault. Easy to imagine what went through his mind when he saw his father take a poisoned bolt through the heart, especially if the bolt was meant for him, but Rain once again managed to create yet another miracle and save his father from certain death.

There was some debate on the topic that the family had yet to really delve into, for it bordered on a subject few cared to contemplate in depth. Baatar was very forthcoming regarding the entire experience, detailing the events with such clarity that Yan could envision it happening before her eyes as if she had been there herself. The two of them had been talking alone, father and son, with the former consoling the latter after all the atrocities theyd witnessed that night. The horrifically posed scene in LuZhuo and the senseless slaughter of Huang Hai made for a rough opening to a war that many believed would stretch on for many months or years to come, and Rain would have taken it hard. There was no doubt in Yans mind that his judgment had been clouded by anger and hatred, for even after so many years, he had yet to learn not to hate the Enemy. Yan fought because the fighting needed to be done, but Rain took the Enemys actions too personally, as if the Defiled killed and tortured to spite him rather than because theyd lost themselves to madness brought on by the Fathers foul lies.

For this reason alone, Yan feared the worst for her foolish husband, because while others wanted to believe Rain drew upon the power of love to mend his dying fathers wounds, she was not so convinced. There was an equally good chance that it was hatred and despair which drove him to such heights, hatred not just for the Enemy, but also for the Mother Above who dared to try and take Rains precious family away from him, a possibility no one wanted to voice out loud. Hiding from the truth wouldnt change a thing though, so which was it then? Did Rain summon the Energies of Creation to mend his fathers heart, or did he draw upon the powers of Destruction to reject death and drag Baatars soul back from the Mothers warm embrace? There were no words for such a miracle, for even the Medical Saint Taduk did not dare claim himself capable of Healing death, and yet Yans sweet, sentimental husband might well have done just that.

Miracles aside, having taken four harbours in quick succession meant Rain already accomplished more in a single night than what his detractors claimed was even possible, for they saw no way in which the Empire could go on the offensive against the numerically superior Defiled forces. This was because they had yet to understand the true value of Rains cannons, the great equalizers as he sometimes called them, and Yan could only agree. Though romanticized by dramas, stories, poems, and ballads, the cold, hard truth of the matter was that war was merely a game of numbers, one in which the winner was almost always the side that killed more combatants than they lost. In the struggle against the Enemy however, every Imperial soldier was worth ten Defiled, or put another way, for each soldier lost, the Imperial army had to kill ten Defiled just to even the odds. Formidable as Peak Experts might be, they were still human yet, and even if the Enemy were willing to line up and present their necks for chopping, swinging a weapon a thousand times through flesh and bone was still a draining and demanding task. Add in the fact that the Enemy was trying to kill you as you tried to kill them, and trading blows in close combat for a single minute could tire you out more than hours of back-breaking labour. It wasnt just physical fitness that limited a Warriors effectiveness on the battlefield, but also their morale and mental fortitude both. This was why the most important skill for a commander was the ability to relieve the pressure on his or her troops, whether it be through clever rotation of Warriors to keep them all relatively fresh, or by stepping up to shoulder the bulk of the pressure to allow allied Warriors more room to breathe.

Brigadier Hongji was the first type of commander and Grandpa the second, while Yan considered herself a good balance of the two. Juggling troops in combat was no easy feat, but with Sutah around to help share the burden, she did not think it arrogant to claim that she was a capable enough commander who never asked for more than what her soldiers could provide. Then, once things heated up up, she also had the ability to ease the pressure on her troops thanks to her ricocheting shield and the Forest Clearing Gale, the skill she recently developed by combining the properties of Grandpas Wind Blades with the principles of Mitsue Juichis Mountain Collapsing Stomp. This was an attack which summoned a visible twisting gale of wind, one which spit out hundreds of finger-length Honed Wind Blades as it hurtled through the Enemy ranks, a single move that could potentially take dozens, if not hundreds of lives, and it marked her as a Warrior to be wary of upon the field of battle. Most Warriors of note excelled as duellists, formidable opponents such as Kyung, Song, Mila, and Dain, but Yan was a rare exception to this rule, as her strengths lay not in single combat, but in one against many. One Warrior killing dozens, or even hundreds of Defiled was no small feat, even if said Defiled were bottom of the barrel grunts who barely knew which end of the spear to attack with, for there were always more Defiled than there were Imperials, yet Yan was a young Talent capable of killing hundreds, perhaps even thousands over the course of a single battle, provided she had Chi and time to recover. While she would die in an instant if caught out on the battlefield by any of the aforementioned duellists, Yan could easily outclass them in terms of sheer volume of kills over the course of a battle, which in most cases was a statistic which weighed heavier than any other.

The cold hard truth of the matter was that there were few Warriors able to match Yan when it came to wholesale slaughter. Such was the way of the Martial Dao, one which emphasized personal strength rather than widespread destructive capability, and in some ways, one could say Yan had set forth upon a dead-end track. The Forest Clearing Gale was a formidable attack, but who was to say it would improve in time? As a young Talent not yet twenty five, her accomplishments were impressive to say the least, but could the same be said three or four decades from now? Killing chaff was hard and necessary work, but she could not focus too much on this one aspect of her Martial Path, for such focus would come at the expense of other vital areas. The last thing she wanted was to become a narrow specialist, a Warrior who could do one thing very well yet fell short in all other areas. Not the worst fate to suffer, but as Du Min Gyus Terminal Disciple, Yan had a mountain of expectations heaped onto her shoulders, the heaviest of which came from herself and her desire to do her beloved grandfathers legacy due justice.

Yet for all this talk of her formidable talents, Rains Runic Cannons now enabled any random Peak Expert to match Yans level of carnage with only a bare modicum of instruction. Place the cannonball into the dragons mouth, point it at your target, insert Chi, and watch the Defiled die in droves. A four step process to match what Yan achieved through countless hours of blood, sweat, and tears, as well as no small amount of luck and guidance. As if that wasnt enough, the Runic Cannons even used less Chi to accomplish more damage, so long as you picked clumped targets to aim at and didnt waste any shots killing one or two stragglers at a time. Infuriating wasnt nearly enough to describe it, though Yan consoled herself with the fact that at least she didnt have to lug around a weighty metal tube and a sack of equally cumbersome ammunition. With eight cannons alternating fire on the battlefield, massed armies had become something of a liability for the Enemy hordes. The Uniter didnt dare to meet Rains forces in the field anymore, and instead was running with his tail between his legs while adopting hit and run methods, ones which the Imperials ironically had used against the Defiled prior to the reveal of the destructive Runic Cannons. A Peak Expert with a Cannon was worth thousands of Defiled Warriors, and once his or her Chi was spent, all they needed to do was hand the Cannon over to another fresh expert so they could begin the slaughter anew.

The face of war was ever-changing now that Rain was firmly in control, and Yan found it all so very exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Exhilarating because her beloved husband had brought this change about, and more to the point, had even anticipated and expected as much, but terrifying because now they no longer had his unique perspective to draw on, and Yan was not sure what would come next.

Falling to her knees beside his cot, she rest her chin on his pillow and ran her fingers through his hair before caressing his silken cheek, marvelling at the soft and supple sensation of his unblemished skin against hers. It took an effort of will to fight the urge to strip down and crawl into bed with him, but even Lin-Lin and Mila had accepted sleeping apart from him for fear of causing complications to his health. Both were fast asleep in the separate cots laid out right next to Rains, consigning Yan to sleep all by her lonesome without their husband at her side. She didnt hold it against them, as theyd offered to take turns, but Yan refused because the simple truth was that she was better suited to sleeping alone than either of her sister wives. Lin-Lin was all but inconsolable without Rain to cheer her up, always glued to his side with her wide eyed stare whether awake or asleep, and Mila herself fared only a little better. They were even less equipped to deal with this strife than Yan herself, and she loved them both as much as she loved Rain himself, so she stayed strong and contented herself with these quiet morning moments so that they would suffer just that much less.

The three of them presented a sweet and sentimental image, laid out alongside one another in so chaste a fashion, each confined to their own cots save for a single hand each from Lin-Lin and Mila that reached over to lightly touch Rains. As pure and chaste as it all might seem, Yan knew there was good reason for their restraint, because while lying still for so many days on end might seem harmless, the human body was not meant to lie fallow for so long. If Mila or Lin-Lin were to fall asleep pressed up against him, there was a chance their weight could cut off circulation to Rains extremities and cause his fingers and toes to rot whilst still attached, though Yan already visually confirmed this was not the case today. This was a ritual every morning now, for she wasnt running her fingers through his hair simply because she enjoyed how it felt, but also because she was checking for sores which might have formed overnight. His flawless skin showed that his Core was still firmly intact, a matter of only minor concern considering hed reforged all three of his Spiritual Weapons which were damaged during that fateful night, and soon enough, Yan finished confirming that her husband was still in good health, save for the minor fact that he just refused to wake.

How much longer will you sleep, dear husband of mine? Yan Sent, jokingly using the same sickly sweet and almost mocking tone Jing Fei used when speaking to her husband Zian. Rain loved the man like a brother, but hed never gotten over his fear and concern for Jing Fei, even though it was clear to anyone with eyes that she loved her husband with all her heart. Your beloved wives grow lonely without you to keep them company.

The lack of an answer caused her more pain than she would ever care to admit, his silence a damning testimony to his continued absence. Anger flared as her resentment bubbled to the surface, bitter that he would do this to her so many times and cause her so much heartache. For a brief moment, she wondered if life would be easier if she just walked away, left him to Lin-Lin and Mila both and resumed the life of freedom and adventure in Central she gave up to marry him, a thought so ridiculous she could only scoff. The poisoned whispers of their insidious foe, aiming to drown her in despair? Or merely a flight of fancy in a moment of weakness, an idle thought she would never follow through on? Regardless of the source of her inner turmoil, the solution was the same, to embrace the pain and hope for the best because the first was proof of her love for him, and the second her only path forward through the dark times ahead.

A burst of warm and loving Aura enveloped Yans entire being, and for a brief, beautiful moment, she thought Rain had finally awakened again, but then she spotted Pong Pongs yellow-patterned green shell emerge from his den under Rains pillow. Letting loose with an adorably tiny squeak of a yawn, the Divine Turtle slowly blinked as he trundled over to nuzzle her fingers resting atop Rains head, his Aura continuing to emanate fond reassurances that even Taduk could not make. Stirring at the sound of her little friend waking, Ping Ping blinked sleepily from her place above Lin-Lin, having taken over an entire pillow for herself so she could rest her head against his cheek while they slept. Wiggling her hindquarters and shaking her tail, she joined Pong Pong in nuzzling Yans hand in hopes of eliciting a scritch or two, and she could only acquiesce to their sweet demands.

Oddly enough, neither turtle seemed all too concerned with Rains comatose state aside from the odd glance to see if he was awake, as if this deep sleep was only to be expected from time to time. Part of Yan hoped it was because they knew something she didnt, but the more pragmatic part of her knew it was more likely because turtles like Ping Ping tended to hibernate through the cold months of winter, and she assumed it was the same for Pong Pong. No doubt they both believed this was the case with Rain and were confused as to why everyone else was so concerned for his health, but Yan still appreciated their efforts.

Morning you two, she whispered, stroking Pong Pongs head with her thumb the same way shed seen Rain do a thousand times, and the little turtle leaned into the gesture with a sense of joy and contentment that Yan wholeheartedly envied. Unable to contain her emotions any longer, her shoulders shook as she silently sobbed for no reason other than to express her sorrow and be rid of this burden, praying the turtles confidence stemmed from something real, like their visits to Rains Natal Palace rather than the misconception she believed it to be. Alas, hope and faith were difficult to come by these days. The Enemy was willing to go to such great lengths to deny the Empire a victory, and she knew that this was a tactic that was most effective against Rain, for he was a kind and caring man who could not bring himself to understand the Enemys lacking humanity. Thats why their actions enraged him so, because unlike most, he did not see the Defiled as irredeemable monsters. No, he believed that there was still a shred of humanity buried deep within each and every single one of them, for he had experienced Defilement firsthand and, despite all his talk of hatred and slaughter, yearned to save the Defiled from themselves.

Which only made their complicity in their crimes that much worse. Easier to believe them evil monsters than to see them for their true selves, simple men and women whod succumbed to the darkness inherent to the hearts of humankind. Oh her sweet, simple, fool of a husband, whose heart ached for all the people of the world and even empathized with the Enemy who so desperately wanted him dead, a stance she did not dare even entertain for fear of losing her will to fight.

A weighty presence pressed itself into Yans belly and she almost yelped in surprise until she remembered where she was. Looking down through tear-filled eyes, she found sweet Aurie peering up at her in innocent concern from his place under the cot, his sad, mournful expression conveying almost as much as Pong Pongs Aura. The wildcat was sad not just because she was crying, but also because hed been consigned to sleeping on the cold floor rather than sprawled out over Rains legs as the sweet cat preferred. A gross injustice as far as he was concerned, and he came out to commiserate over shared hardships, as if the pampered wildcat knew what true hardship really was. It was so adorably ridiculous Yan could not help but giggle, which Aurie took as a sign to sit up and nuzzle her cheek, his chest rumbling in delight as she hugged him tight. Having had his fill of nuzzles, he turned his attention to Rain, and under her watchful gaze, the wildcat laid his chin down atop Rains chest and closed his eyes in muted delight, taking a short second to bask in his favourite persons presence before heading over to the door where he waited to be let out.

Little did I know an entire decade would pass before I saw them again, for I had only just set out on my Path. Basic training lasted a mere six weeks, but to my younger self, each day felt like a year as the sergeants broke me down and built me back up in the image they so desired. The training camp barracks was little more than a tent full of single cots, and far from a welcoming environment at that, as leaving anything out of place was grounds for a public dressing down as the sergeants pointed out your mistakes for all to see. Imagine my relief when training finally came to an end and they announced I was a soldier in truth, but rather than being dismissed from camp to return home for a visit, I was immediately dispatched to serve at my first post, a sea-side shanty town plagued by marauding pirates.

And still not a single relevant detail in sight. Unable to remain patient any longer, Yan began skimming through the text as the narrator briefly detailed no less than thirty-two different postings which brought him all across Central in the next seven years, which was an atypical experience since most postings lasted for half a year at the minimum. Apparently, the narrators commanding officer had enemies in low places, for that was the only way to explain why their unit was dispatched to so many different postings without any real emergency taking place, as a petty punishment and means to keep the commander from ever getting too familiar with any superior Officers who might help advance his or her career. There were minor clashes aplenty, but few consequential victories to be had, if any at all, and the narrators bland and unvarnished depiction of events set the scene for just how disheartening it must have been to do so much and have so little to show for it.

At twenty two years of age, I was considered an experienced soldier of seven years, yet not even halfway through my first term of service. I had come to expect my entire career to play out just like this, drifting from one conflict to another, and I worried that by the time I returned home with the coin I promised my parents, they would not recognize their son, or worse, no longer be there to receive me. I was an only child to aging parents who worked themselves to the bone each and every day of the year, and now Id left them with no one to care for them in their infirmity. There were services to help soldiers like me bring coin back to their village, but even without the warnings of my older comrades in arms, my naive, younger self could still see how predatory those services were, with no guarantee that the coin would ever reach its destination. All I could do was let the army hold my pay save for what little I spent on myself as I experienced the vicissitudes of life through the narrow lenses of a soldier constantly on the march. I went where the army directed me, ate what the army gave me, wore what the army provided, and slept wherever I could lay my head down to rest. The first wine I tasted was distilled in the back of an army wagon. The first woman I lay with was a camp follower almost twice my age who gave me a discount I later learned was no discount at all. My first shave was done using a sword as my razor and polished shield as mirror. My first loss was that of a brother Id met in basic training, a fellow farm-boy who died weeping in my arms as his lifes blood spilled out from the gaping hole in his chest.

A jarring rendition of events, and Yan cursed herself for skipping ahead and missing out on the gravity of it all, but she was too eager to find out what came next to go back just yet. Then, in one fateful engagement, my Captain fell on the field of battle, and his second followed soon after. So too did the next three soldiers who stood up to take charge, and only then did I realize I was the most senior member of the retinue still left standing. I rallied the men, and from there, I remember little of what I said or did during that fateful battle, only that I fought and killed until there were no enemies left standing before me, and pitiful few allies beside me. For my valiant efforts in the face of adversity, I was promoted to the rank of Captain and given command of the tattered remnants of my former Captains retinue. Three days later, a batch of fresh recruits were dispatched to bring us back to full strength, alongside a tutor tasked with teaching me to read and orders to head out towards the next conflict. Such was the start of my long and arduous career, one in which I, a naive young farmboy accepted every mission I was presented simply because I didnt know any better and was too stupid to ask.

Yan wasnt sure whether to laugh or cry at seeing how similar this man was to Rain, who himself went through a similar phase while fighting on the front lines in Sinuji. Liking the narrator more and more, she continued to devour the tale which was so different from BoShuis flowery prose, a bland and matter-of-fact account that said much with only a few words. There was so much left untold, yet there was still enough for her to fill in the details, and the next two years of the narrators life went by in a flash, an entire decade summed up in the span of a few paragraphs.

From raw recruit to Captain was a journey of seven years, but little more than a year later, I was made Senior Captain after my commander took note of my talents and record of service. Soon after my promotion, my commander took me aside and suggested I take some time off to tackle the next step along the Martial Path. He told me then that twenty five years of age was the demarcating line between snake and dragon, so while I had the markings of the latter, everyone would think me the former if I was unable to successfully Form my Natal Palace before years end.

So this was the reason Grandpa was so excited for Yan to read this, and she took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. I accepted the proffered reading material and began the long journey home, yet when I arrived there almost three weeks later, I was no closer to success than when I began. My long awaited reunion with my parents took precedence then, a memory I cherish to this day, for any rank, medal, or commendation was utterly worthless when placed next to the smiles of my aged parents, and this more than anything gave me renewed focus to continue along my Path. The noble who owned their farm refused to sell the land as he had no reason to curry favour with a mere Senior Captain, and instead, I was forced to use most of my savings to pay the steep penalty for the contract my parents entered into before I was even born, one that treated them like slaves to be bought and sold like chattel. Having finally seen the full weight of the burden my parents carried, I was set upon by a hunger for advancement both in my career and along the Martial Path, for only then could I protect that which I held dear.

Or in other words, might makes right, a universally accepted fact, but somehow, Yan could tell that the narrator no longer saw things the same way.

The advice gleaned from military documents suggested I model my Natal Palace on a place of significance in reality, but Id spent the last ten years drifting from conflict to conflict and was currently living out of the back of a wagon while searching for a home for my parents to live in. What place of significance did I have to hold onto? None whatsoever, for the trials and tribulations had made me strong, but they failed to instill me with the confidence and courage to push forward without someone to direct me. As the days passed, my father saw my troubles and eventually sat me down like in days of old, so small and frail now that I possessed a Martial Warriors physique, but in my eyes, hed never been stronger than on that day. He smiled, patted my hand, and told me that it didnt matter if they lived in ruin or opulence, so long as I lived my life with head held high. Then he told me that hed found work on another farm, that he wanted to go back to toiling day and night to enrich not just some noble landowner, but another farmer as well, an extra middleman to pay before he and mother received their fair share. Though he didnt say it in so many words, I could tell he was afraid that my humble background would hold me back, that my filial efforts would distract me from the Martial Path and promising prospects before me, so he bade me farewell and brought my mother away to subsist in worse conditions than when I first left them.

I spent the rest of that night in quiet meditation, parsing through the complex emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I had no constant in life to lean back on, none save for the love and support of my parents who now believed I would be better off without them. Logically, I understood the decision, and while I could not bring myself to agree with it, my father had spoken and made his decision clear. How could I chase him down and deny him without an alternative solution to offer him? It was obvious to all that while the army prepared me to fight and lead, it did little to teach me the ways of life and how to be a man. I was out of my depth, lacking in both coin and good sense, so how could I be expected to support my parents when I barely knew what to do with myself?

Come morning, the sun rose and the morning dew dried, but still I was undecided on what to do next, so in a bid to find escape from my troubles, I sought Balance and Insight into the Dao. I had no set goal for doing so, similar to how Id lived my entire life thus far, only a yearning to be better today than the man I was yesterday, the man who let his parents walk away for fear of being burdened by them. Without a place of significance to base my Natal Palace upon, I could only look inwards into myself, and there I found my answer. So long as I drew breath, I could rely on myself to strive and struggle for the life I desired, one in which I chased after my father and told him that he was no burden, but the guiding light in my life which I failed to heed often enough. Why must a Natal Palace be based on a place of significance? Chi is formless, so why must the Natal Palace be envisioned and remain fixed in mind? So long as I existed, so too would my Natal Palace, and thus, I made myself the anchor for this significant milestone along the Martial Path. When I opened my eyes, I knew I had succeeded, and only then did I have the courage to chase after my parents and bring them away to a better life.

That was the abrupt conclusion to what Kyung copied for her, and for a moment, she wondered if hed left a page out, but there was no chance that was the case. That last paragraph was a jumble of words which she individually understood, but made no sense when put in that order, and she read it several more times to try and understand his meaning. Did he envision himself, like the Natal Soul Rain spoke of? No, he asked why it must be envisioned, so it had to be something more... abstract. He made himself the anchor, so that as long as he existed, so too did his Natal Palace. There was no mention of formation, no description of what he envisioned, no moment of realization, only a statement of existence, as if his Natal Palace had been there all along, and he only just realized it.

There were some scant similarities in this account to what Yan experienced herself, but too many differences to account for. She herself lacked a stable and beloved place to reference, her bitter animosity over never being adopted clashing with her inner turmoil over leaving her home of almost twenty years. Central didnt offer her a warm welcome either, not after Grandpa declared her as his Terminal Disciple and adopted granddaughter without thinking things through, a touching gesture she loved him for yet still logically disagreed with. Then there was the matter of the narrator feeling as if he could only rely on himself, for Yan had many people who helped her along the way. Not just Grandpa and Rain, but Mila, Lin-Lin, Kyung, Eun, Dain, Wu Gam, Tomor, Mugi, Altan, Akanai, Tursinai, and so many more.

No, she was too focused on the specifics, on the differences, on convincing herself that this wouldnt work. Instead, she should set her mind to trying to understand what Grandpa Du wanted her to read. It wasnt any specific detail in the narrative, else he would not have given her so much to digest. The question to ask was not how the narrator Formed his Natal Palace, but rather what could Yan glean from this mans experiences to help her along her Path. It was the method he used that was the key here, the basis upon which he built his Natal Palace, not a place in reality like Rain and the village, Mila and the bamboo grove, or Grandpa and the Wutai Mountains, but... what? Himself? No, not himself, but the concept of self-reliance. So long as he existed, so too did his Natal Palace, that was what he said, and it was this which gave him the strength and conviction to progress forward along his Path.

So if not a place, what was a concept Yan could use as an anchor to her Natal Palace? Surely not self-reliance, for she would not be where she was today without the support of so many, but there had to be something...

The answer evaded her as she pondered for hours on end, only to deliver itself to her the moment she stepped outside the stuffy yurt. A cool and refreshing breeze washed over her, bringing away the smell of herbal incense and candle wax and reinvigorating her very being by reminding her of that which she loved and adored. Though she possessed the Blessing of Air as Grandpa was always quick to point out, it was the wind which Yan held near and dear to her heart. Air was stagnant and stifling, but the wind was a gust of gentle freedom and a gale of overbearing dominance in one, a representation of her ability to do as she pleased. It was the wind which spoke to her, not the air itself, but the movement of air that set her skin to tingling and mind at ease. With the wind at her back, she could go anywhere and do anything, but only because she knew she had people ready to catch her if she should fall.

People like Grandpa and Kyung, who she found standing outside and doing their best not to appear too hopeful so that she wouldnt feel ashamed if she failed to glean anything from the readings. People like her sister-wives Mila and Lin-Lin who were likely finally getting out of bed and no doubt wondering if she would join them for lunch. People like her in-laws Baatar and Sarnai, who both only had glowing praises for her, Alsantset and Charok who were always there to answer any questions she might have, Li-Li and Luo-Luo who always had a friendly floof or poignant melody to share if Yan ever needed it. And of course, there was Rain himself, the one person who not only supported her decision, but also encouraged her to follow through with it in a time when she needed it most. All those years ago, even though she was excited to have been chosen by an esteemed Hero of the Empire, shed also been terrified of leaving everyone and everything she knew behind. To her, the wind was freedom, but she would never have had the courage to take so great a leap without Rains love and support, and she would not have made it this far without Grandpa, Eun, Kyung, and so many others. The wind was her reminder, her anchor and object of significance, one that was invisible and formless like Chi, but every bit as real as she.

And just like that, the world changed in a way only Yan herself could perceive as she became aware of the vastness of the Heavens around her. Im not sure, she began, cocking her head in uncertain certainty as she parsed through these newfangled sensations, But I think I just Formed my Natal Palace.

Hardly the most confident of statements, but seeing Grandpa and Kyungs smile, Yan knew it to be true, for this was a moment she would remember for all eternity, so long as the wind still blew.

Chapter Meme