Despite its spacious, silk-lined interior, Zian grew weary of the confines of his carriage hours ago, the pride and satisfaction from this morning long since faded. Jostling as he bounced and rolled over the stone-paved road, he stared out into the distance to ease his nausea, willing the sun to set faster and put an end to this torturous, prolonged day of travel. He’d thought himself so clever and capable by manipulating events to his advantage, but once again, he’d underestimated Falling Rain’s cunning and resolve.

It all seemed so simple, the plan naturally coming together without effort. Mother’s spies kept him informed of events happening in Sanshu, though he cared little for reports regarding reform, reconstruction, or redistribution. In the past, he’d left these matters for Mother to deal with, lacking her patience and tact for diplomacy. Whispers and favours traded during clandestine meetings, half-truths and hidden-threats in every word and gesture, he’d much rather meet his enemies with sabres in hand on the field of battle. Alas, diplomacy and spy-craft were indispensable tools for these games of power, and after experiencing firsthand how an expert like Yuzhen wielded them, he was determined to master them.

Therefore, when he learned Rain had taken Jester Wang and a few dozen other former Butchers into his retinue, Zian put aside his surprise and did everything he could to suppress the news. Not to protect his rival, no, Zian intended to take advantage of this gross misstep. Rain was no ignorant savage, he wouldn’t risk associating with possibly Defiled bandits unless there was an equally significant reward, and what would be more rewarding than finding Yo Ling’s hidden treasury? Imagining decades of plunder and loot was enough to make even Zian salivate in spite of the inherent risk which came with it.

Hindering the ‘Great Hero’ Rain, ‘Unrivalled beneath Heaven’ was merely a bonus. The arrogant bastard, to hear people tell it, Rain and the Bekhai were the only warriors of note in all of Sanshu. Never mind Zian’s seven consecutive duels, no, they wanted to hear about some slave girl getting a lucky strike against some demon or how Rain led a thousand soldiers to victory against twenty times their number. By the Father’s contorted testicles, the odds got worse every time Zian heard the story yet Rain still prevailed through sheer pluck and courage. It was a travesty.

Enough whining. Focusing his thoughts, Zian went over his plans once more in case he missed something. Should word spread of their discovery of Yo Ling’s treasury, not only would they be forced to turn over all their findings to the Empire, but they’d be forced to deal with every merchant and noble who’d ever suffered a loss at Yo Ling’s hands. Easy to imagine how they’d come clamouring for reparations, insinuating Zian had embezzled all manner of lost, priceless treasures. Lack of proof wouldn't matter, nor that Yo Ling clearly spent a massive fortune to arm his Butchers. Not even an Oath would convince the world his hands were clean. Rumours and hearsay would spread with the wind, negatively impacting his reputation and risking the chance of less scrupulous individuals capturing him for interrogation.

Then again, if you do not enter the tiger’s den, then how can you capture the tiger’s cub?

Of course, none of this mattered if Zian wasn’t there to find the treasure. With every tongue in the city wagging about the power of Gerel, Tursinai, and Tenjin, blatantly blackmailing the Bekhai was nothing short of suicide. Even with Jukai protecting him, Zian’s chances of survival were slim to none if those three Bekhai experts were determined to take his life. Although he’d left a secret will detailing his findings as insurance, it wasn’t a life-saving measure, only a life-avenging one and he treasured his life too much to risk it in such a reckless manner. Instead, he used his hard-learned lesson from Yuzhen to his advantage: keep quiet and let your enemies unveil their secrets to you. Instead of outright threatening Rain, Zian kept close watch on the Bekhai, intent on travelling with them under the guise of safety and solidarity.

And it was a resounding success.

Sort of.

Though he wanted nothing more than to call a halt to the day’s journey, he had no intentions of giving Rain a chance to escape. The crafty bastard was no fool, feigning his departure three days past and leaving Zian waiting in the plaza for hours. Thickening his skin, Zian returned to his borrowed residence to resume waiting, and now, his patience and tolerance were rewarded as they set out together. The majority of the Bekhai contingent rode in wagons at the convoy’s rear while Rain led the way with his roosequin-mounted escorts, ostensibly scouting ahead for danger but in all likelihood seeking to leave Zian and his peers behind.

Ah, his peers, the sole fly in his ointment. After joining with the Mother’s Militia and Dastan’s retinue, the Bekhai grossly outnumbered Zian’s half-strength retinue almost ten to one. To keep from being murdered in the wilds, he brought his Society peers into the plan to even the odds, though it meant splitting the treasure even further. Sang Ryong and Jin ZhiLan shared his enthusiasm, but Han BoShui was oddly uninterested in the whole proceedings. In fact, Zian suspected BoShui only agreed to come along because he’d been in his cups, red-faced and reeking of vomit and alcohol as he nodded along with whatever was suggested.

How far the mighty had fallen. . Rising from clan outcast to clan successor under the tutelage of Major General Han BoHai, BoShui’s skills were undeniable, a former contender for the number one talent in the north. Now, all his hard worked was for naught with the Shrike’s death weighing heavily on him, the two rumoured to have been closer than most siblings. More often drunk than sober of late, Zian’s one-time rival seemed determined to drown his sorrows or die trying. Worst of all, after uncovering the whole truth of the Shrike and how she was abandoned by her Clan to her monstrous Master after taking part in a Purge, Zian found no pleasure in BoShui’s misery. It’s no wonder BoShui fell behind the other talents of his generation after dominating them for so many years. Losing his beloved cousin to the Confessor was bad enough, but to kill her with his own hands...

Whatever the circumstances, there was nothing Zian could do. They weren't friends, and so long as BoShui followed along with his retinue, he saw no immediate harm in letting the Han successor drink himself into a stupor. The thought of alcohol set Zian’s stomach to churning, all of a sudden made keenly aware of his choppy environment. Enduring as best he could, he placed his head half out the window to better feel the fresh air passing by, and just in case he needed to vomit.

Six to eight hours in the carriage? Zian could handle that with ease, but to ride from dawn till dusk was pushing the limits of human tolerance. If someone were to cut him open and view his innards, he was sure they’d find them disjointed and out of place, his intestines wrapped around his lungs and kidneys shunted to one side. Miserable and nauseated, he wallowed in his suffering, pledging to make Rain pay dearly for his scheming ways. Originally, he’d planned to split the treasure 50/50 with the Bekhai, but now, he wanted more no matter the cost.

As his carriage came to a shuddering halt, Zian melted with relief, stumbling out his carriage with no thought of face. Who cares if the world sees him fall headfirst to the dirt, he needed to feel solid, stable ground beneath his feet. Thankfully, Jukai was on hand to steady him, and after taking a moment to calm his nerves and stomach, he glanced around to find Ryong and ZhiLan in similar straights. Skin pallid and faces haggard, their gazes were filled with animosity and recrimination, blaming him for their arduous day. Affecting a cold sneer, Zian pretended to be unfazed as he strode off-road to find somewhere quiet to lie down and recuperate.

Staring up at the darkening skies, Zian wondered if he was capable of another day like this. Seeing his soldiers stumble about, bow-legged and sun-burnt, he couldn’t imagine riding on horseback was any better. Damn the Bekhai and their comfortable roosequins, after finding Yo Ling’s treasury, Zian intended to buy an entire horde of the oversized weasels. If one could overlook their foul musk, the creatures had a gait as stable as a rock, their tails swishing left and right but never up or down. Throughout the day, Zian saw many a Bekhai laying flat on their stomachs while riding their roosequins, though Falling Rain took it one step further and sat with his rabbit-eared lover nestled in his arms.

How enviable.

After a half-hour of rest, Zian recovered enough to find his appetite. Brushing off errant strands of grass and leaves, he followed the delectable scent of herbs and spices towards the Bekhai camp. Affecting a detached attitude, he willed his belly to stop rumbling and turned his attention to the sounds of weapons clashing. Moving around a crowd of bandits-turned-Bekhai, Zian stopped in place to stare, all thoughts of food forgotten.

Surrounded by a circle of onlookers, Rain’s cat-slave sparred against a massive half-bear warrior in a dazzling display of skill and speed. Moving from one form to the next, her saber tested her opponent as her feet floated across the grass. Braided hair flowing in the wind, she swayed back and forth in a hypnotic manner, striking out with Twitching Tail, Fanged Clutch, Killing Lunge, and Swiping the Rushes. Despite unleashing a myriad of cunning and powerful strikes, she still couldn’t break the status quo as the half-bear danced in the firelight, sword and shield in hand. Impossibly light and wholly at ease, he stepped and twirled, parried and blocked, untouched by his opponents saber unless he chose to be. Over and over it went, the girl attacking and the man defending, trading a dozen moves in a heartbeat before trading a dozen more, her jaw clenched and brow furrowed while his teeth shined and eyes twinkled.

It’s not that the girl was inept but rather her opponent too skilled. Were Zian in her place, he couldn’t imagine doing any better, though he itched to try. Yet another unknown expert, how many crouching tigers and hidden dragons lay concealed among the Bekhai? Hell, in a handful of years, this girl would count among them. Freely moving from one-handed strikes to two, switching the weapon between left and right handed grips, moving in an endless cycle of dynamic and unpredictable attacks, Zian swallowed his pride and objectively matched himself against her. Her footwork was adequate, Tiger Stalking the Dragon, but her preference to hold ground meant his Oriole’s Rising Steps would run circles around her. Her hand speed was slightly above his, her power below, but matching her two-handed strike against his one was a losing gambit. His greatest advantage lay in two sabres against one, but if he struck carelessly, her riposte would claim his life. To win, he’d have to risk injury and disrupt her rhythm before overwhelming her from all angles.

Overall? Even without his Aura, the match was in his favour, but only 60-40, or maybe even 55-45. Far leaner odds than he’d like, considering her young age and slave status.

“Incredible, right?” Rain’s voice shook Zian out of his thoughts. Grinning widely, the insolent brat patted Zian’s back in an overly familiar gesture, carrying a covered basket in his other arm. “Even after seeing it so many times, I still have trouble believing Vichear can move like that. It’s not fair, fat people are supposed to be slow and ponderous.” Frowning at Rain’s disrespect, Zian refused to answer, turning back to study the match. Unable to read the mood, Rain continued to speak without missing a beat. “Anyways, join me for dinner. I already invited your friends, so you can go sit with them or come with me to feed the birdies. They’re gonna love it, I found a whole nest of danger noodles.” Uncovering the basket, Rain tilted it to display his catch, an indeterminate number of snake corpses.

Swallowing his revulsion, Zian nodded and gestured for Rain to lead the way. Though he’d rather not make small talk with his rival, accompanying him was the polite thing to do. After a short, silent walk, they were greeted with a cacophonous symphony of laughs as the birds fluttered to the cage side, eagerly bobbing their heads for food. Truth be told, Zian didn’t see the point in keeping pets like this. The birds would be better off fried and eaten, but to each their own.

Speaking in a sickly sweet tone, Rain’s words were anything but as he fed the birds one by one. “Enjoy the meal you feathered bastards. You’re all lucky I need you alive.” A particularly fat bird squawked in indignation, annoyed he’d yet to be fed. “Shut the fuck up Roc,” Rain said in his sing-song voice. “You fat mother fucker. You eat last because I hate you.”

Unable to bear it any longer, Zian asked, “Why must you speak like that?”

In response, the birds turned to face him, their dark, soulless eyes tracking his every movement as blood dripped from their beaks, pausing mid meal to assess a threat. Still using his overly cheerful voice, Rain answered, “They don’t like it when you speak gruffly. Add in their ability to recognize different people and a penchant for stripping flesh from bone, I’ve decided it’s better to stay on their good side in case they ever get loose.”

Resisting the urge to appease the murderous birds, Zian feigned disinterest while noting to keep an eye on the sky while they travel, just in case. Once finished, Rain rinsed his hands and strode to his campfire where the others were waiting. ZhiLan and Ryong sat with impeccable posture despite the lack of chairs, while BoShui lazed on his side with wine-gourd in hand, clothes ruffled and face unshaven. What a disgrace, even if he was mourning, as the Han Clan successor, he should know better than to appear in public like this.

Perhaps he should have a word with BoShui. His failures reflected poorly on Zian, regardless of his decision to quit the Society. Deep in thought, Zian nodded at his companions before clasping his hands to greet their host, Rain’s betrothed, Sumila. To his left was Warrant Officer Huu, his twin wives (lucky bastard), and Tong Da Fung. The rabbit-girl sat with ZhiLan, chatting away like the best of friends while the slave girl handed out bowls of rice and broth. Her skin still glistening with sweat, she was a rare beauty, her bronzed skin and luscious lips igniting his desires. Rain seemed blessed by the Mother in more ways than one, surrounded by gorgeous women at all times.

Scenting the food, their little party was soon surrounded by a small pack of animals, led by a pair of bear cubs running straight into Rain’s lap to beg for scraps. A massive wildcat larger than most dogs took a seat right next to Zian, staring him down and licking its jowls. Though he wouldn’t fear the creature with weapons in hand, it was unnerving to have it breathing down his neck as he ate.

Was this all a scare tactic? Wear him down with the long carriage ride, shock him with the slave and unknown warrior’s skills, threaten him with the voracious birds, and then terrorize him with this wildcat? Glancing at the animal out the corner of his eye, he watched it lean in closer and closer as time moved on, fighting the urge to fight, run, or cringe. He was Situ Jia Zian and he would not be intimidated by this... kitten. Soon, the creature was only centimetres from his neck, its hot breath brushing his cheek as it started to growl, emitting a deep, resonating rumble from its chest.

Perhaps it was time to rethink his decision to join the Bekhai hunt for treasure. Though he intended to abandon his place as Situ Clan heir, he was still the son of a magistrate, and a wealthy one at that, with no real need of more gold.

“Jimjam, leave Zian alone.” In response to Rain’s harsh tone, the wildcat yowled in protest, displaying a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. After huffing in displeasure, ‘Jimjam’ padded over to headbutt Rain in the chest, transforming from a ravenous murderer to harmless pet in the blink of an eye. Amazed by the sudden change, Zian choked on his soup, sputtering and coughing for a good minute before catching his breath.

Falling Rain, a worthy rival indeed.

After finishing their delicious meal of succulent deer steak and wild mushrooms, Rain cleared his throat and moved in close. “I have a proposition,” he said, glancing at each of them in turn. “I’ve someone in my employ who can lead us to Yo Ling’s secret island. Now, in the interest of mending fences, I’d like to extend an invitation for you to join us. We split what we find 50/50 and never speak a word of it to anyone. How’s that sound?”

Taken aback by Rain’s sudden honesty, Zian glanced at his companions. ZhiLan and Ryong indicated they would follow his lead, while BoShui couldn’t be bothered to even shrug, gulping down wine like a man dying of thirst. Turning back to Rain, Zian pursed his lips. “50/50? I think not. We have four Warrant officers against your three. Our retinues count twenty former Captains and Senior Captains, eight former Majors, and a former Colonel, while you have one Lieutenant Colonel, one former major, and two senior Captains. Since we’re bringing more elites, we deserve a larger share. 80/20 in our favour.”

“Ha, no.” Shaking his head, Rain countered, “Doesn’t matter how many former officers you have, they’re all subordinates. Don’t insult my intelligence and tell me you’re gonna give them an equal share. On the other hand, we have three current officers who outrank you.” The hateful savage, emphasizing his recent promotion. A senior captain outranked a Third Grade Warrant Officer, but was only equivalent to a Second Grade Warrant Officer. “Tally it up and we have six officers versus your four, so it should be split 3:2 in my favour. Plus,” he added with a smirk, “You need me or you’ll never get to the island. I don’t need you, I only need your silence. I’d prefer to buy it, but-”

“Oh? Making open threats now are we? You’re welcome to try buying our silence with steel and blood.” Zian sneered. “You’ll find it more costly than you can imagine.”

Zian’s declaration was met with a chuckle. “So confrontational. I was going to say, I don’t necessarily have to loot the island anytime soon. The Butcher Bay Bandit hideout has been hidden for fifty years, and I expect it’ll remain hidden for another fifty. I could come back anytime and you’d be none the wiser.” Extending his hand, Rain looked Zian in the eyes. “50/50, no one talks. Deal or no deal?”

Inwardly scowling, Zian cursed himself for a fool. In his overwhelming greed and thirst for adventure, he’d overlooked the simplest of solutions. All Rain needed was patience and he could keep all the spoils for himself. Even if Zian revealed Rain was sheltering former Butchers, nothing would come of it. At worst, Rain would be forced to execute the bandits after forcing them to reveal their secrets. Hell, with the stories of Gao Qiu’s valiant last stand against Yo Ling, public opinion might even side with Rain. The people loved their folk heroes and former bandits turning against their Defiled comrades to defend the Empire sounded like something lifted straight out of a drama. Stifling a sigh, Zian shook Rain’s hand. “Deal.”

It seems he was a long way from mastering the art of diplomacy.

Chapter Meme