Chapter 56
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
Chapter 56
Fung struck out with all his might, chopping the arm off of his final opponent. The onlookers gasped and cheered, the bloodthirsty crowd delighting in his display as the judge stopped the match, healers running out to save his opponent. Stalking off to the side of the stage in a foul mood, he stood beside his teammates, fuming in anger. The competition had been a farce, all the strongest opponents eliminated in the preliminary match, leaving only dregs and cocky nobles. He had Rain and his comrades to thank for that, but he could not face any of them at this competition.
After the event with the carnugators, Fung had refocused his efforts towards training, driven forward to gain strength, acknowledging for the first time that he was truly too weak and did not know how high the sky was. A frog within a well, thinking himself impressive. He had always enjoyed training, but since turning 16 he allowed his indulgence in pleasures of the flesh to supersede his training, since he was stronger than his peers of the same age. After meeting Rain and the other Bekhai, and chatting with his curious minded friend about how to truly become strong, Fung no longer slacked, and began desperately training. He had injured himself over and over again, feeling his wounds knit together stronger than they were before, suffering through the pain and agony, all for this moment when he could face someone of true strength without embarrassing himself.
Instead, his opponent had been chased away by the greed of the Society, and Fung had loosed his anger upon the worthless remaining competitors, taking a limb from each competitor he faced, to the delight of the crowds and the anger of the Society. Hmph, those bastards deserved no face, and Fung would not pretend otherwise, whatever the cost.Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m
You frown too much, Young Master Fung. He could hear the sarcasm in her words. Ong Jing Fei, a lovely and venomous young lady, she terrorized him just as her mother terrorized his father. She smiled and waved at the cheering crowd, jubilant and contented with their new champions. You'll lose those handsome looks you're so proud of. Why are you not strutting about like a peacock, celebrating our victory? She fluttered her eyelashes at him, the urge to throttle her rising in him. The bitch knew why, she simply enjoyed needling him. We are the champions of this contest, to be bestowed with wealth and honor. You should be happier. It must be difficult, without your little barbarian here to celebrate with you. You aren't as much fun when he isn't around. She patted his arm, sending shivers down his spine. He loathed her with every ounce of his being and she knew it, still playing at being the dutiful wife-to-be. Her voice lowered as she leaned in close. Could it be true, the rumors that the consummate playboy Tong Da Fung has succumbed to the pleasures of another man? A shame your little barbarian cock-boy will be dead soon.
Fung backhanded her across the face. The silence of the crowd was deafening as she tumbled to the floor and lay sprawled on the ground, her pitiful cry reaching the heart of every watcher. Immediately, he regretted acting on his anger. The bitch was a thespian, faking the extent of her injury. He could strike at her with all his might for an hour and she would emerge unhurt. He felt her twist away from his strike, throwing herself down, playing at the maiden in distress. Ignoring her antics, Fung signaled for the Master of Ceremonies to continue. The damn Society, he spit on their honor, and when he returned home, he would have their growing factions in Shen Huo stomped out. Then, once he was personally strong enough, he would divorce the horrid bitch, and have her exiled from his city as well. Fools without ethics is what they all were, and he would have none of that in his home.
He could only pray to the Mother that Rain and his family still lived and would make it home safely, as he cursed at his own helplessness.
He needed strength, and playing at these games of war were of no help.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Situ Bolin sat still while the healer tended to the little Patriarch, his own wounds stinging as he slowly mended it. Such humiliation, to be injured by these damn pups, to have suffered so much from worthless savages. They had dark magics, to allow them to control such fierce beasts like the binturongs and their unholy two-legged mounts. He would capture the damn witch that protected them and have her flayed alive, bit by bit, until she revealed her tricks. To dare use such evil, they were likely half Defiled as it stood, the reports placing their village north of Shen Huo, a desolate and cold place to live. That area was a zone of death, the territory of a powerful Ancestral Beast, and if not for dark magics or sacrifice, how else could they live there? Their unholy practices had made these barbarians strong however, and the Situ clan had sorely underestimated their opponents.
No matter, they would fall before the might of the Situ Clan in the end. As much as it shamed him, he had sent out several Elders to chase down the slave girl. There had been no sighting of her, so it was likely she was with the others, the weaker members of their party. While Bolin wanted the combatants alive, he now also wanted all of them alive, so that he could vent his frustrations on the families of those who vexed him so. It would not end there, no, he would torture the location of their backwoods village from them, and take his warriors there for a visit, wiping their tribe from the continent, letting them fade into obscurity. Only then would his rage be sated, the fire within him quenched.
The little Patriarch moaned as he was treated, his injuries severe. The little horned cunt had trampled him with her beast, breaking bones without killing, intent on crippling the boy. Such viciousness, if only Bolin could stride backwards through time and snap her neck when he first lay eyes upon her. The boy would be weeks in healing if they meant to keep him whole and strong without overtaxing his body. In such a time of strife, to not be able to send the little Patriarch to battle, allow him to be seasoned in combat, it was truly the shame of the Situ clan, something that would be talked about by his peers within the Society for years to come. Unforgivable, for them to be so remorseless, humiliating them time and time again. Better if they had killed him, so that the Patriarch could act himself, sparing the boy this shame.
Uncle. Little Gulong spoke through his pain and Bolin rushed to his side to hear his words. His heart rent at the sight, the boy's face fractured and swollen, missing a large patch of skin, an ugly sight to behold. Uncle, it hurts.
A piercing scream was heard, followed by more grunts, the sounds of arrows raining upon them as their pursuers tried to fight free. She could hear the movements of the fighters, crisp and clear, the power behind each action apparent from the sound of air breaking as they moved, but it was not enough. Held in place, they could do nothing but die. She could see nothing in the gloom, only a sense of moving shadows, as a fierce battle raged in near silence, experts falling like overripe apples. Soon, there was only the sound of gurgling blood and falling bodies, before silence consumed the night once more.
Mila waited patiently, arrow at the ready, until she heard the whisper. Lighting a torch, she brought it out to the cave entrance, illuminating the scene. Three elders were dead, pin cushioned with arrows, an ugly death for a warrior, but these scum were not deserving of the title. She studied their faces, trying to match them to a clan or sect, but there was no memory of them in her mind. It was not the Society as a whole that fought them, but rather a few factions acting in self-interest, and each would have sent nameless, faceless warriors. If they were caught assassinating citizens in good standing, it would strike a heavy blow to their reputation, and the Society would face Imperial Justice.
One was still alive, croaking and gasping as he slowly bled to death. Alsantset was the first to arrive, the others filing in slowly from their hidden perch. Rain crouched down to stare in the eyes of one of the dying, a disturbing habit of his. Why stare at death so closely? Rain ended the man's suffering, a mercy this worthless trash did not deserve, to die by the blade of a true warrior.
She crouched down and searched each body, rewarded with two tokens of wood, shaped like an arrow, with carved runic symbols stained in blood. Song's blood. Burning them with her torch, Mila prayed that these were the only ones. Hopefully, the Society no longer had a means of tracking them, and they could lose themselves in the throngs of civilians in Feng Huang, so long as they hid the roosequins. She could finally see an end to the chase, a path towards survival. She picked up a spear, a heavy weapon, ornately carved, belonging to one of the dead. Rain had been complaining about a lack of a longer weapon, although he did just fine with his sword.
Mila grimaced at Yan and Huu's injuries, both looking like death warmed over. Rain wasn't much better, grim and haggard, his armor long destroyed, dressed in bloody rags as he always was after a battle. His eyes were sunken, his muscles withering, the lack of food and overtaxing of his body costing him dearly. They all needed rest and food, but they were unlikely to find it soon. Despite his obvious exhaustion, Rain looked... hungry for more battle. It was unsettling, not the joyful desire for challenge, but the fatalistic urge for it to be done with. Either kill all his enemies or be killed.
Once he lost his hesitation, Rain was a fearsome opponent. He fought almost recklessly, closing in without fear, every strike of his threatening to kill, ready to trade heavy injury for a death-blow, something few warriors had the determination to accept. To even find a warrior willing to trade their life for their opponent's was a rarity, how could they be willing to give their life to cause a mere injury?
As she listened to Alsantset's report of the situation, she smiled as Rain studied his new spear and silently praised her. Their situation was dire, but no matter. The Society had already paid dearly for a harsh lesson. The People were not to be treated lightly, and even if Mila were to fall here, Mama would crash through their gates and burn the grounds, salting the earth behind her. The thought warmed her as they rode in the darkness, forwards towards another day of battle.
They had been riding for less than 15 minutes when a voice rang out in the darkness. By Imperial Order, the People tribesmen are to appear before this Justicar. Make yourselves known within the hour, and you will be collected.
Mila felt her fear creeping down her spine, an urge to vomit almost overcoming her. A Justicar. That meant this was no longer a private battle, that it would be a public feud brought before Imperial Justice. Without Mama's protection, they were simply civilians in the eyes of the law, doomed to be sentenced to execution for killing members of the Society. Tears welled in her eyes as she despaired. All their hard work, the desperate attempt to escape, all of it was for nothing.
They could not run from Imperial Justice, for that would bring extermination down upon the People. They could only accept their fate, and pray for Mama to avenge them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Situ Chilok fled from the ambush, arrows digging into his flesh, hampering his movements as he stumbled down the mountainside. It had gone disastrously, the five of them stepping into the trap so easily, fools all of them. Those worthless branch family elders were useless. He cursed his idiot son Chiang, and that idiot little patriarch Gulong. Those children had brought disaster upon them. He needed to return, to warn the Clan. If they were forewarned, then they could prepare and fight accordingly. The Situ Clan still had strength to call upon, they only needed to be aware of the need.
He hurried as quickly as he could, falling as much as walking, crying as he moved, knowing death had already arrived for him, but still he struggled. He was an Elder of the Situ Clan, a guardian no less, he could not die in vain. Hearing his opponent arrive, the sound of cloth breaking through the air, Chilok turning to face his enemy. If he was to die today, then he would at least die fighting. Leaping towards his opponent with weapon in hand, he died well before he could come within reach, never truly sighting his killer.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Chapter 56
Fung struck out with all his might, chopping the arm off of his final opponent. The onlookers gasped and cheered, the bloodthirsty crowd delighting in his display as the judge stopped the match, healers running out to save his opponent. Stalking off to the side of the stage in a foul mood, he stood beside his teammates, fuming in anger. The competition had been a farce, all the strongest opponents eliminated in the preliminary match, leaving only dregs and cocky nobles. He had Rain and his comrades to thank for that, but he could not face any of them at this competition.
After the event with the carnugators, Fung had refocused his efforts towards training, driven forward to gain strength, acknowledging for the first time that he was truly too weak and did not know how high the sky was. A frog within a well, thinking himself impressive. He had always enjoyed training, but since turning 16 he allowed his indulgence in pleasures of the flesh to supersede his training, since he was stronger than his peers of the same age. After meeting Rain and the other Bekhai, and chatting with his curious minded friend about how to truly become strong, Fung no longer slacked, and began desperately training. He had injured himself over and over again, feeling his wounds knit together stronger than they were before, suffering through the pain and agony, all for this moment when he could face someone of true strength without embarrassing himself.
Instead, his opponent had been chased away by the greed of the Society, and Fung had loosed his anger upon the worthless remaining competitors, taking a limb from each competitor he faced, to the delight of the crowds and the anger of the Society. Hmph, those bastards deserved no face, and Fung would not pretend otherwise, whatever the cost.Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m
You frown too much, Young Master Fung. He could hear the sarcasm in her words. Ong Jing Fei, a lovely and venomous young lady, she terrorized him just as her mother terrorized his father. She smiled and waved at the cheering crowd, jubilant and contented with their new champions. You'll lose those handsome looks you're so proud of. Why are you not strutting about like a peacock, celebrating our victory? She fluttered her eyelashes at him, the urge to throttle her rising in him. The bitch knew why, she simply enjoyed needling him. We are the champions of this contest, to be bestowed with wealth and honor. You should be happier. It must be difficult, without your little barbarian here to celebrate with you. You aren't as much fun when he isn't around. She patted his arm, sending shivers down his spine. He loathed her with every ounce of his being and she knew it, still playing at being the dutiful wife-to-be. Her voice lowered as she leaned in close. Could it be true, the rumors that the consummate playboy Tong Da Fung has succumbed to the pleasures of another man? A shame your little barbarian cock-boy will be dead soon.
Fung backhanded her across the face. The silence of the crowd was deafening as she tumbled to the floor and lay sprawled on the ground, her pitiful cry reaching the heart of every watcher. Immediately, he regretted acting on his anger. The bitch was a thespian, faking the extent of her injury. He could strike at her with all his might for an hour and she would emerge unhurt. He felt her twist away from his strike, throwing herself down, playing at the maiden in distress. Ignoring her antics, Fung signaled for the Master of Ceremonies to continue. The damn Society, he spit on their honor, and when he returned home, he would have their growing factions in Shen Huo stomped out. Then, once he was personally strong enough, he would divorce the horrid bitch, and have her exiled from his city as well. Fools without ethics is what they all were, and he would have none of that in his home.
He could only pray to the Mother that Rain and his family still lived and would make it home safely, as he cursed at his own helplessness.
He needed strength, and playing at these games of war were of no help.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Situ Bolin sat still while the healer tended to the little Patriarch, his own wounds stinging as he slowly mended it. Such humiliation, to be injured by these damn pups, to have suffered so much from worthless savages. They had dark magics, to allow them to control such fierce beasts like the binturongs and their unholy two-legged mounts. He would capture the damn witch that protected them and have her flayed alive, bit by bit, until she revealed her tricks. To dare use such evil, they were likely half Defiled as it stood, the reports placing their village north of Shen Huo, a desolate and cold place to live. That area was a zone of death, the territory of a powerful Ancestral Beast, and if not for dark magics or sacrifice, how else could they live there? Their unholy practices had made these barbarians strong however, and the Situ clan had sorely underestimated their opponents.
No matter, they would fall before the might of the Situ Clan in the end. As much as it shamed him, he had sent out several Elders to chase down the slave girl. There had been no sighting of her, so it was likely she was with the others, the weaker members of their party. While Bolin wanted the combatants alive, he now also wanted all of them alive, so that he could vent his frustrations on the families of those who vexed him so. It would not end there, no, he would torture the location of their backwoods village from them, and take his warriors there for a visit, wiping their tribe from the continent, letting them fade into obscurity. Only then would his rage be sated, the fire within him quenched.
The little Patriarch moaned as he was treated, his injuries severe. The little horned cunt had trampled him with her beast, breaking bones without killing, intent on crippling the boy. Such viciousness, if only Bolin could stride backwards through time and snap her neck when he first lay eyes upon her. The boy would be weeks in healing if they meant to keep him whole and strong without overtaxing his body. In such a time of strife, to not be able to send the little Patriarch to battle, allow him to be seasoned in combat, it was truly the shame of the Situ clan, something that would be talked about by his peers within the Society for years to come. Unforgivable, for them to be so remorseless, humiliating them time and time again. Better if they had killed him, so that the Patriarch could act himself, sparing the boy this shame.
Uncle. Little Gulong spoke through his pain and Bolin rushed to his side to hear his words. His heart rent at the sight, the boy's face fractured and swollen, missing a large patch of skin, an ugly sight to behold. Uncle, it hurts.
A piercing scream was heard, followed by more grunts, the sounds of arrows raining upon them as their pursuers tried to fight free. She could hear the movements of the fighters, crisp and clear, the power behind each action apparent from the sound of air breaking as they moved, but it was not enough. Held in place, they could do nothing but die. She could see nothing in the gloom, only a sense of moving shadows, as a fierce battle raged in near silence, experts falling like overripe apples. Soon, there was only the sound of gurgling blood and falling bodies, before silence consumed the night once more.
Mila waited patiently, arrow at the ready, until she heard the whisper. Lighting a torch, she brought it out to the cave entrance, illuminating the scene. Three elders were dead, pin cushioned with arrows, an ugly death for a warrior, but these scum were not deserving of the title. She studied their faces, trying to match them to a clan or sect, but there was no memory of them in her mind. It was not the Society as a whole that fought them, but rather a few factions acting in self-interest, and each would have sent nameless, faceless warriors. If they were caught assassinating citizens in good standing, it would strike a heavy blow to their reputation, and the Society would face Imperial Justice.
One was still alive, croaking and gasping as he slowly bled to death. Alsantset was the first to arrive, the others filing in slowly from their hidden perch. Rain crouched down to stare in the eyes of one of the dying, a disturbing habit of his. Why stare at death so closely? Rain ended the man's suffering, a mercy this worthless trash did not deserve, to die by the blade of a true warrior.
She crouched down and searched each body, rewarded with two tokens of wood, shaped like an arrow, with carved runic symbols stained in blood. Song's blood. Burning them with her torch, Mila prayed that these were the only ones. Hopefully, the Society no longer had a means of tracking them, and they could lose themselves in the throngs of civilians in Feng Huang, so long as they hid the roosequins. She could finally see an end to the chase, a path towards survival. She picked up a spear, a heavy weapon, ornately carved, belonging to one of the dead. Rain had been complaining about a lack of a longer weapon, although he did just fine with his sword.
Mila grimaced at Yan and Huu's injuries, both looking like death warmed over. Rain wasn't much better, grim and haggard, his armor long destroyed, dressed in bloody rags as he always was after a battle. His eyes were sunken, his muscles withering, the lack of food and overtaxing of his body costing him dearly. They all needed rest and food, but they were unlikely to find it soon. Despite his obvious exhaustion, Rain looked... hungry for more battle. It was unsettling, not the joyful desire for challenge, but the fatalistic urge for it to be done with. Either kill all his enemies or be killed.
Once he lost his hesitation, Rain was a fearsome opponent. He fought almost recklessly, closing in without fear, every strike of his threatening to kill, ready to trade heavy injury for a death-blow, something few warriors had the determination to accept. To even find a warrior willing to trade their life for their opponent's was a rarity, how could they be willing to give their life to cause a mere injury?
As she listened to Alsantset's report of the situation, she smiled as Rain studied his new spear and silently praised her. Their situation was dire, but no matter. The Society had already paid dearly for a harsh lesson. The People were not to be treated lightly, and even if Mila were to fall here, Mama would crash through their gates and burn the grounds, salting the earth behind her. The thought warmed her as they rode in the darkness, forwards towards another day of battle.
They had been riding for less than 15 minutes when a voice rang out in the darkness. By Imperial Order, the People tribesmen are to appear before this Justicar. Make yourselves known within the hour, and you will be collected.
Mila felt her fear creeping down her spine, an urge to vomit almost overcoming her. A Justicar. That meant this was no longer a private battle, that it would be a public feud brought before Imperial Justice. Without Mama's protection, they were simply civilians in the eyes of the law, doomed to be sentenced to execution for killing members of the Society. Tears welled in her eyes as she despaired. All their hard work, the desperate attempt to escape, all of it was for nothing.
They could not run from Imperial Justice, for that would bring extermination down upon the People. They could only accept their fate, and pray for Mama to avenge them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Situ Chilok fled from the ambush, arrows digging into his flesh, hampering his movements as he stumbled down the mountainside. It had gone disastrously, the five of them stepping into the trap so easily, fools all of them. Those worthless branch family elders were useless. He cursed his idiot son Chiang, and that idiot little patriarch Gulong. Those children had brought disaster upon them. He needed to return, to warn the Clan. If they were forewarned, then they could prepare and fight accordingly. The Situ Clan still had strength to call upon, they only needed to be aware of the need.
He hurried as quickly as he could, falling as much as walking, crying as he moved, knowing death had already arrived for him, but still he struggled. He was an Elder of the Situ Clan, a guardian no less, he could not die in vain. Hearing his opponent arrive, the sound of cloth breaking through the air, Chilok turning to face his enemy. If he was to die today, then he would at least die fighting. Leaping towards his opponent with weapon in hand, he died well before he could come within reach, never truly sighting his killer.
Chapter 56Fung struck out with all his might, chopping the arm off of his final opponent. The onlookers gasped and cheered, the bloodthirsty crowd delighting in his display as the judge stopped the match, healers running out to save his opponent. Stalking off to the side of the stage in a foul mood, he stood beside his teammates, fuming in anger. The competition had been a farce, all the strongest opponents eliminated in the preliminary match, leaving only dregs and cocky nobles. He had Rain and his comrades to thank for that, but he could not face any of them at this competition.After the event with the carnugators, Fung had refocused his efforts towards training, driven forward to gain strength, acknowledging for the first time that he was truly too weak and did not know how high the sky was. A frog within a well, thinking himself impressive. He had always enjoyed training, but since turning 16 he allowed his indulgence in pleasures of the flesh to supersede his training, since he was stronger than his peers of the same age. After meeting Rain and the other Bekhai, and chatting with his curious minded friend about how to truly become strong, Fung no longer slacked, and began desperately training. He had injured himself over and over again, feeling his wounds knit together stronger than they were before, suffering through the pain and agony, all for this moment when he could face someone of true strength without embarrassing himself.Instead, his opponent had been chased away by the greed of the Society, and Fung had loosed his anger upon the worthless remaining competitors, taking a limb from each competitor he faced, to the delight of the crowds and the anger of the Society. Hmph, those bastards deserved no face, and Fung would not pretend otherwise, whatever the cost.Updated from novelbin.comYou frown too much, Young Master Fung. He could hear the sarcasm in her words. Ong Jing Fei, a lovely and venomous young lady, she terrorized him just as her mother terrorized his father. She smiled and waved at the cheering crowd, jubilant and contented with their new champions. You'll lose those handsome looks you're so proud of. Why are you not strutting about like a peacock, celebrating our victory? She fluttered her eyelashes at him, the urge to throttle her rising in him. The bitch knew why, she simply enjoyed needling him. We are the champions of this contest, to be bestowed with wealth and honor. You should be happier. It must be difficult, without your little barbarian here to celebrate with you. You aren't as much fun when he isn't around. She patted his arm, sending shivers down his spine. He loathed her with every ounce of his being and she knew it, still playing at being the dutiful wife-to-be. Her voice lowered as she leaned in close. Could it be true, the rumors that the consummate playboy Tong Da Fung has succumbed to the pleasures of another man? A shame your little barbarian cock-boy will be dead soon.Fung backhanded her across the face. The silence of the crowd was deafening as she tumbled to the floor and lay sprawled on the ground, her pitiful cry reaching the heart of every watcher. Immediately, he regretted acting on his anger. The bitch was a thespian, faking the extent of her injury. He could strike at her with all his might for an hour and she would emerge unhurt. He felt her twist away from his strike, throwing herself down, playing at the maiden in distress. Ignoring her antics, Fung signaled for the Master of Ceremonies to continue. The damn Society, he spit on their honor, and when he returned home, he would have their growing factions in Shen Huo stomped out. Then, once he was personally strong enough, he would divorce the horrid bitch, and have her exiled from his city as well. Fools without ethics is what they all were, and he would have none of that in his home.He could only pray to the Mother that Rain and his family still lived and would make it home safely, as he cursed at his own helplessness.He needed strength, and playing at these games of war were of no help.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Situ Bolin sat still while the healer tended to the little Patriarch, his own wounds stinging as he slowly mended it. Such humiliation, to be injured by these damn pups, to have suffered so much from worthless savages. They had dark magics, to allow them to control such fierce beasts like the binturongs and their unholy two-legged mounts. He would capture the damn witch that protected them and have her flayed alive, bit by bit, until she revealed her tricks. To dare use such evil, they were likely half Defiled as it stood, the reports placing their village north of Shen Huo, a desolate and cold place to live. That area was a zone of death, the territory of a powerful Ancestral Beast, and if not for dark magics or sacrifice, how else could they live there? Their unholy practices had made these barbarians strong however, and the Situ clan had sorely underestimated their opponents.No matter, they would fall before the might of the Situ Clan in the end. As much as it shamed him, he had sent out several Elders to chase down the slave girl. There had been no sighting of her, so it was likely she was with the others, the weaker members of their party. While Bolin wanted the combatants alive, he now also wanted all of them alive, so that he could vent his frustrations on the families of those who vexed him so. It would not end there, no, he would torture the location of their backwoods village from them, and take his warriors there for a visit, wiping their tribe from the continent, letting them fade into obscurity. Only then would his rage be sated, the fire within him quenched.The little Patriarch moaned as he was treated, his injuries severe. The little horned cunt had trampled him with her beast, breaking bones without killing, intent on crippling the boy. Such viciousness, if only Bolin could stride backwards through time and snap her neck when he first lay eyes upon her. The boy would be weeks in healing if they meant to keep him whole and strong without overtaxing his body. In such a time of strife, to not be able to send the little Patriarch to battle, allow him to be seasoned in combat, it was truly the shame of the Situ clan, something that would be talked about by his peers within the Society for years to come. Unforgivable, for them to be so remorseless, humiliating them time and time again. Better if they had killed him, so that the Patriarch could act himself, sparing the boy this shame.Uncle. Little Gulong spoke through his pain and Bolin rushed to his side to hear his words. His heart rent at the sight, the boy's face fractured and swollen, missing a large patch of skin, an ugly sight to behold. Uncle, it hurts.A piercing scream was heard, followed by more grunts, the sounds of arrows raining upon them as their pursuers tried to fight free. She could hear the movements of the fighters, crisp and clear, the power behind each action apparent from the sound of air breaking as they moved, but it was not enough. Held in place, they could do nothing but die. She could see nothing in the gloom, only a sense of moving shadows, as a fierce battle raged in near silence, experts falling like overripe apples. Soon, there was only the sound of gurgling blood and falling bodies, before silence consumed the night once more.Mila waited patiently, arrow at the ready, until she heard the whisper. Lighting a torch, she brought it out to the cave entrance, illuminating the scene. Three elders were dead, pin cushioned with arrows, an ugly death for a warrior, but these scum were not deserving of the title. She studied their faces, trying to match them to a clan or sect, but there was no memory of them in her mind. It was not the Society as a whole that fought them, but rather a few factions acting in self-interest, and each would have sent nameless, faceless warriors. If they were caught assassinating citizens in good standing, it would strike a heavy blow to their reputation, and the Society would face Imperial Justice.One was still alive, croaking and gasping as he slowly bled to death. Alsantset was the first to arrive, the others filing in slowly from their hidden perch. Rain crouched down to stare in the eyes of one of the dying, a disturbing habit of his. Why stare at death so closely? Rain ended the man's suffering, a mercy this worthless trash did not deserve, to die by the blade of a true warrior.She crouched down and searched each body, rewarded with two tokens of wood, shaped like an arrow, with carved runic symbols stained in blood. Song's blood. Burning them with her torch, Mila prayed that these were the only ones. Hopefully, the Society no longer had a means of tracking them, and they could lose themselves in the throngs of civilians in Feng Huang, so long as they hid the roosequins. She could finally see an end to the chase, a path towards survival. She picked up a spear, a heavy weapon, ornately carved, belonging to one of the dead. Rain had been complaining about a lack of a longer weapon, although he did just fine with his sword.Mila grimaced at Yan and Huu's injuries, both looking like death warmed over. Rain wasn't much better, grim and haggard, his armor long destroyed, dressed in bloody rags as he always was after a battle. His eyes were sunken, his muscles withering, the lack of food and overtaxing of his body costing him dearly. They all needed rest and food, but they were unlikely to find it soon. Despite his obvious exhaustion, Rain looked... hungry for more battle. It was unsettling, not the joyful desire for challenge, but the fatalistic urge for it to be done with. Either kill all his enemies or be killed.Once he lost his hesitation, Rain was a fearsome opponent. He fought almost recklessly, closing in without fear, every strike of his threatening to kill, ready to trade heavy injury for a death-blow, something few warriors had the determination to accept. To even find a warrior willing to trade their life for their opponent's was a rarity, how could they be willing to give their life to cause a mere injury?As she listened to Alsantset's report of the situation, she smiled as Rain studied his new spear and silently praised her. Their situation was dire, but no matter. The Society had already paid dearly for a harsh lesson. The People were not to be treated lightly, and even if Mila were to fall here, Mama would crash through their gates and burn the grounds, salting the earth behind her. The thought warmed her as they rode in the darkness, forwards towards another day of battle.They had been riding for less than 15 minutes when a voice rang out in the darkness. By Imperial Order, the People tribesmen are to appear before this Justicar. Make yourselves known within the hour, and you will be collected.Mila felt her fear creeping down her spine, an urge to vomit almost overcoming her. A Justicar. That meant this was no longer a private battle, that it would be a public feud brought before Imperial Justice. Without Mama's protection, they were simply civilians in the eyes of the law, doomed to be sentenced to execution for killing members of the Society. Tears welled in her eyes as she despaired. All their hard work, the desperate attempt to escape, all of it was for nothing.They could not run from Imperial Justice, for that would bring extermination down upon the People. They could only accept their fate, and pray for Mama to avenge them.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Situ Chilok fled from the ambush, arrows digging into his flesh, hampering his movements as he stumbled down the mountainside. It had gone disastrously, the five of them stepping into the trap so easily, fools all of them. Those worthless branch family elders were useless. He cursed his idiot son Chiang, and that idiot little patriarch Gulong. Those children had brought disaster upon them. He needed to return, to warn the Clan. If they were forewarned, then they could prepare and fight accordingly. The Situ Clan still had strength to call upon, they only needed to be aware of the need.He hurried as quickly as he could, falling as much as walking, crying as he moved, knowing death had already arrived for him, but still he struggled. He was an Elder of the Situ Clan, a guardian no less, he could not die in vain. Hearing his opponent arrive, the sound of cloth breaking through the air, Chilok turning to face his enemy. If he was to die today, then he would at least die fighting. Leaping towards his opponent with weapon in hand, he died well before he could come within reach, never truly sighting his killer.
