Eyes gleaming with excitement and good cheer, my adorable wifey bounces in her chair and cheers for Luo-Luo’s performance, a reaction shared by most of the crowd judging by their deafening applause. Even Mila stands to join in, her customary taciturn scowl replaced by a beautiful, teary-eyed smile which fills me with longing and makes me wonder if there’s something emotionally wrong with me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed Luo-Luo’s performance, but I wasn’t moved by it, not like everyone else seems to have been. Even my pets appreciated the music more than I did, each of them leaning against the carved wooden railing to better enjoy the show. While Luo-Luo played, the wildcats swayed and the bears rocked back and forth to the rhythm of the song, but now they seem to be in a trance or something, their bodies relaxed and utterly still while staring at the stage. Nestled between Song’s ears, Blackjack sits upright and at attention but otherwise non-responsive, and even the laughing birds settled down in the aftermath of the performance, utterly silent unlike the cacophonous appreciation they offered yesterday to this same song.

Well... not exactly the same. Today’s piece was the same basic tune, but more technically complicated than how she played it yesterday, with more strumming and harmonies and whatnot. I dunno, I’m not a musician, but it was definitely longer while looking and sounding more difficult to play, without really interfering with my enjoyment. An evocative and moving arrangement, lovely to the ear, but... it’s still a one instrument song. No vocals, no bass-line, no percussion, no dancing, just Luo-Luo doing a solo on stage and flexing for like thirty minutes.

My attention span is not long enough to focus on one instrument for so much time...

I dunno, maybe I’m just a pleb when it comes to the arts, but Mama Bun and Pong Pong share my lack of interest and are the only other creatures in the crowd to not be entranced by the performance. Poking his head out from his shell, the tiny turtle glares in Luo-Luo’s general direction while my sweet bunbun flattens herself on my lap in protest of the thunderous applause. I’d probably hate it too if I had giant floppy ears, so I’m glad I left the rest of the bunbuns at home. Wishing I could block out the noise for her, I stroke her head and soothe her nerves, but to no avail. Pong Pong could probably put up a sound barrier, but I have no idea how to communicate with the little guy. I’ve noticed he uses Chi a lot in daily life, always running faster and jumping higher than any turtle should be able to, but his movements go unnoticed by everyone except me. Even Mom and Dad don’t see him zipping by, which is weird because you’d think Martial Warriors would be keen on keeping track of a Divine Beast powerful enough to summon tsunamis. I asked about it, but no one really had an answer, only guesses, the most common of which being some sort of selective Concealment. Mama Bun and I can see him, but everyone else overlooks his presence unless I point him out, a skill I desperately want to learn so I can use it during social events.

And for other things... I’m not proud of wanting to peep, but I can’t help it. It’s a sickness.

While the applause is still going strong, Mila looks down and fiddles around with her long, red gown, a tight, formfitting piece which modestly accentuates her womanly curves while leaving her covered from neck to ankle. The dearth of bared skin does nothing to take away from her alluring appearance, especially since she usually keeps her body hidden beneath loose, baggy shirts, not to mention how fetching she looks with her coiffed hair done up in a neat bun, leaving her pale, freckled nape and ruby-studded earrings on full display. Lin and Song wear similar dresses in blue and green respectively, and as lovely as they both are, I can’t tear my eyes away from Mila’s rounded hips as she fumbles with something around her waist, and doubly so when she bends over to do the same around her ankles.

Calm down. You’re in public. Mom is two seats over. Akanai and Husolt are also somewhere in the room. Most importantly, Mila will not respond well, so do not, I repeat, do not slap that ass, no matter how tempting it might be.

Just as I rein myself in, temptation strikes again as the bottom half of Mila’s gown comes apart and exposes her shapely leg from thigh to ankle. Almost choking on my tongue, I drink in the lovely sight as Mila undoes the bindings on the other side to similar effect before taking up her spear and shield. Standing at the railing in her battle-ready evening gown and jewelled tiara, she is the portrait of a dignified and domineering warrior no matter the outfit, and her bared legs only adds to her city-destroying beauty without taking away from her intimidating bearing. So mesmerized by the sight of her milky-white thighs, my brain almost ignores the stunning declaration she makes to the crowd once their applause dies down.

“I am Captain Sumila of the Bekhai, twenty years old,” she shouts, her feral, toothy smile sending a shiver of fear and longing down my spine. “Daughter of Lieutenant General Akanai and Divine Blacksmith Husolt, Sister to Li Song and betrothed to Falling Rain. After hearing such a rousing performance, I’ve fortuitously Condensed my Aura, so in gratitude to my Sister-Wife Luo-Luo, I would like to give a demonstration of my meagre skills as well.” Her eyes burning with anticipation, she slowly takes in the watching crowd and says, “Would any of my peers care to engage in a friendly spar?”

All but growling her last few words, there can be no doubt in anyone’s mind that this spar will be anything but, yet some fool from the Baiji Sect is still stupid enough to immediately accept, no doubt hoping to humiliate the Bekhai princess they see standing before them. Whatever. Mila deserves to celebrate her success and the Baiji Sect already hates us because I killed their golden boy Teng Wei Chuan, so I cheer my freckled, fiery wifey on and belatedly wonder if she wore something appropriate under her gown, in case... you know.

Hang on... what does her successful Aura Condensation have to do with Luo-Luo’s ‘rousing performance’? While Mila marches downstairs to meet her competitor on stage, I give voice to my question without expecting an answer, but Mom is quick to reply. “I suspected as much after hearing about your consort’s performance and the Imperial Scion’s offer, but the effect was even better than expected.” Though veiled, I can still see Mom’s joyous expression beneath the sheer, dark silk, holding her head high while patting Rustram’s cheek. “The specifics are not for you to ponder until you progress further along the Martial Path, but as you know better than most, Aura is intrinsically tied to emotion. Zheng Luo would not be the first artist to influence a Martial Warrior’s development, whether it be through song, verse, painting, or dance, but I must admit, I am surprised by how effective her performance has been. Four new Aura users have been born today in this room alone, a result which I dared not even dream of.”

“Wow.” Wait. “...Are they using Aura right now?”

“Yes.” Mom’s proud demeanour collapses as she realizes the implications of my question. Switching to Sending, she hides her worry and asks, “You do not feel their Auras?!”

“No.” Which puts a real damper on the whole affair. Even broken and crippled, I should feel the effects of Aura, friendly or otherwise, yet here I am surrounded by three new Aura users and utterly ignorant as to who they might be. This isn’t the time to bring down the mood with my problems, so at my prompting, Mom supplies me with names and I put a fake smile on to congratulate Rustram, Bulat, and Lang Yi on their newfangled success.

Not gonna lie, even though I’m happy to see everyone making great strides along the Martial Path, I can’t help but resent them for it too. Where I once stood at the forefront of my peers, now it’s only a matter of time before I’m left behind in the dust, surpassed by all my friends and subordinates until my accomplishments are little more than a memory. How long will it be before I can stand at their side again? I don’t even really want to be a warrior again, but all my friends are warriors and I don’t wanna be left out...

I peaked too early.

Watching Mila kick ass with her powerful, pale thighs isn’t enough to bring me out of my funk, and it only gets worse once Aurie snaps out of his trance and slinks over to my side, his head low, shoulders hunched, and tail drooping. With pupils so dilated he could star in a tragic, animated movie, my sweet floof oh-so-gently rests his head on my knee and blinks slowly to show his love. It breaks my heart to see him so distressed, because whether it’s offensive or defensive, animals don’t respond to Aura the same way people do. My sweet runty kitty is spooked by all the emotions in the air and is looking for comfort, specifically for my loving Aura to soothe his nerves and tell him everything is gonna be okay, but I can’t do that anymore. Leaning over to rest my head against his, I summon all the warmth and affection I can muster and try to transfer it over, but without Chi to power it, my Aura remains buried and inert. I don’t even know if it’s still... Condensed, or whatever the term would be, or if it went the way of the dodo alongside my Core and Natal Palace.

This sucks. Instead of enjoying the sight of Mila’s thicc thighs while she bashes idiot young nobles on stage, I’m trying to hold back tears while mourning everything I’ve lost. The physical weakness is nothing, but I can’t tell my sweet kitten I love him anymore. He knows right?

A hand lightly strokes the back of my head and I assume it’s Lin’s until Song Sends, “There. There.” Almost laughing at how stiff and robotic she sounds while trying to comfort me, I carefully turn and smile in thanks, and she merely nods and retracts her arm before returning her attention to the match on stage. Taking a deep breath, I sit up and pat Mila’s empty chair, which makes Aurie’s face light up with joy as he hops up and leans against me like the clingy kitten he’s always been. While pointy fur prickles are still an issue, the minor discomfort is worth it to cheer up my runty kitten, though seeing how he towers overhead when we sit side by side, I’m not sure I can call him runty anymore.

Out on the stage, Mila dispatches several more opponents with ease, though my eyes fail to track how she goes about it. The movements are too fast and the matches end in the blink of an eye. The first idiot is disarmed, another gets his ribs broken, and a haughty female Captain gets thrown into the audience, much to their delight. Afterwards, it’s just more of the same, with most of Mila’s matches ending in a single move, and after kicking her latest opponent off the stage, a Senior Captain from Shen Jin whose name I didn’t catch, my beautiful warrior betrothed draws herself up to full height on stage and looks out over the crowd, not even sweating after defeating seven or eight of the North’s best talents. Though she has yet to show the depths of her skills, it would take an opponent on the level of Zian, BoShui, or Dastan to push her to the limit, but aside from my friends, I don’t think there is anyone both talented and young enough left in the North to match Mila here today.

Were I healthy, stupid, and not her betrothed, I might’ve volunteered to get my ass kicked just for a chance to touch her deliciously plump thighs, but luckily, the young men of the North are more sensible than I. Luckily for them that is, because if Mila doesn’t kill them, then I most certainly will. Pudge and other Demons can shake off bullets to the face, but Martial Warriors are decidedly less durable.

After a long, quiet minute with no new challengers stepping up, Mila gives a dismissive huff which is easily heard in the awkward silence, her unbridled arrogance well deserved after her overwhelming display. “Are there any Martial Warriors under thirty who care to come up?” Her invitation gets the crowd all riled up and a few names are called, with BoShui and Zian being chief among them, but neither of them step out, nor does anyone else for that matter. While I’d like to think it’s because everyone’s been cowed by what little strength Mila has already revealed, it’s more likely the older warriors don’t care enough to bother. They’d have nothing to gain and everything to lose by challenging a twenty-year-old half-beast, because anything short of their overwhelming victory would only serve to stoke the flames of Mila’s new and explosive reputation.

Hell, even if they do beat her handily, she’ll be the twenty-year-old who matched blades against a warrior a decade her senior. Even at my prime, I doubt I could’ve awed my opponents like Mila just did, displaying overwhelming strength, skill, and general superiority in a mere handful of matches. I’ve always said she’s the real Number One Talent of the Empire, and now the citizens of the North know it too.

As if hearing my thoughts, Mila meets my eyes and favours me with a gorgeous smirk before locking eyes with Song. “Then since no one is willing to come up, might I invite my Sister, Li Song of the Bekhai down for an exhibition match?”

Trying not to ogle as Song does the same wondrous things to her gown and bares her long, olive legs, I join my voice to Lin’s and we clap and cheer for the sisters on stage. Eyeing my sweet wifey’s gown, I notice she has the same knotted buttons holding it together and my imagination goes wild. I’ve never been much of a leg guy, but I think today has awakened something inside me and I like it. I would love to see Lin’s bare, slim legs, with her honeyed skin and dainty feet...

After Song makes her full introduction, the match between sisters kicks off without preamble. In their opening exchange, Song proves her skills by being the first opponent to force Mila to retreat, driving the previously-dominant red-head back and eliciting a surprised gasp from the audience. Before anyone can complain about rigging the match, Mila’s counterattack leaves everyone stunned as she charges forward and actively parries a powerful two-handed slash. Thrown back by the impact, Song narrowly avoids Mila’s lightning quick follow through and returns the favour with a thrust of her own, and then the match begins in earnest. Again, it’s hard to make out the specifics of their battle as they trade lightning fast blows, but even a pleb like myself can tell they aren’t holding back in this deadly dance of steel, silk and skin, a dazzling exhibition of Martial Skill and finesse which only two closely matched opponents can bring out.

Wow... They came ridiculously close to seriously injuring one another in that last exchange. Uh oh. Did I tell Song to ‘do her best’ and accidentally order her to go all out?

Before I can succumb to panic and shout for the match to stop, Mila gets a good shield slam in and sends Song sliding across the stage to end the match. Dazed and unsteady, Song slowly pushes herself back to her feet before breaking out into a rare and charming smile, and the two lovely sisters share a warm embrace on stage amidst the audience’s applause, a heartfelt moment which I can’t help but perve over. I can’t help it. Women fighting in sexy dresses is just too provocative, it really gets me going. Maybe afterwards, I’ll invite Mila to sneak off and convince her to bare her legs in private, so I can check if she really wore shorts under her gown...

I bet Lin didn’t think to wear shorts either, and I doubt Song would even care to...

As soon as Mila and Song step off the stage, Alsantset takes their place, looking formidable in her more utilitarian outfit, a short, tight tunic and hip-hugging trousers similar to what Yan wears. I suppose she picked up the fashion while they served in Sinuji together, and the outfit combined with her ripened allure and half-tiger heritage sets the crowd to mooning over her breathtaking beauty. After introducing herself in Behkai fashion as an Expert of the Empire, she repeats Mila’s challenge almost word for word, and even I can see there’s something going on here. A show of strength, I suppose, and though Alsantset’s smouldering glare is obviously goading the Society into action, they’re all too happy to swallow the bait and send one of their lambs up to be slaughtered.

As domineering and arrogant as Mila might be, most of the injuries she caused were to her opponents’ pride. In contrast, Alsantset likes to spread the damage equally between pride and physique, so she promptly mutilates her opponent in a single pass, a bloody demonstration which leaves a seasoned Martial Warrior screaming in agony while the crowd watches on in horrified silence.

After her initial bloody demonstration, the sparring heats up and my sister wins two more gruesome matches before battling to a draw against a Domain capable underling of the Situ Clan. Charok takes her place, but lacking an actual rank, a handful of matches pass before the crowd realizes he’s no less powerful than his wife, albeit more merciful. After nine victories, he’s finally pushed to the limits while matched against a Seven Star Sect Disciple and ekes out a minor victory by injuring his opponent with a concealed throwing spike, a twenty centimetre long weapon I convinced Mila to make a few months ago. Yet to be sated, the crowd cheers for more blood to be shed and both Bekhai and Society are happy to oblige, but rather than moving up in skill level, Mom makes the call to send Bulat out to fight, a nameless soldier with no rank or backing.

And if I’m being honest, despicable to boot. I almost understand shame after seeing him grab his opponent by the balls and throw the poor bastard off stage...

More and more challengers take the stage, including Rustram and Lang Yi, but after a dozen or so lower-level matches, Ulfsaar steps up and announces himself as an unranked, Domain-Capable Expert over fifty, which is news to me. Impressive as I think his achievement is, in the eyes of Peak Experts, the half-bear’s accomplishments aren’t noteworthy enough to stand out, and the results speak for themselves. Even against a random Domain-Capable Expert from the Society, Ulfsaar has a tough time and eventually loses in his first match, but at least he displayed his raw power. Neera goes up next and announces herself as the same, then secures a hard fought victory, followed by Wang Bao who is twenty years younger and has no age appropriate opponent, yet still wins his first match through sheer grit and tenacity, then gives a good show in his next match before admitting defeat.

Afterwards, Sahb takes the stage, and the crowd goes wild at his introduction as they cheer for a twenty-four year old Domain-capable Expert.

And again when Dastan takes the stage afterwards, and introduces himself the same way.

Neither of them win their matches, but considering they both faced opponents at least twice their age, it was to be expected. The crowd cheers louder for the two Oath-Bound soldiers from Sanshu than any others, because young talents are always treasured above all else. Clever of Mom to send the other Domain-capable warriors out first, emptying the Situ Clan’s roster of their younger Experts and leaving no one more age-appropriate to match Dastan and Sahb.

Expecting this was planned to end on a high note, Mom motions for me to sit and wait while a new challenger takes the stage.

By Cloud-stepping over the audience.

Leaping off the balcony of the level below us, Gerel’s footsteps impact against empty air and echo throughout the square to announce the arrival of a Peak Expert, or something close to it. Bald as always, the gleam of his scalp is eclipsed only by the shine of his silver armour as he lands on stage with his sword on his hip, glaive over his shoulder, and a scowl on his face. Without looking at anyone in particular, he infuses his voice with Chi and announces, “Captain of the Marshal’s Guards, Gerel of the Bekhai. Thirty-three years old and challenging any Peak Expert under forty.”

The crowd falls silent for long seconds before bursting into excitement, because a Peak Expert under forty is almost unheard of aside from a legendary few, an accomplishment shared by illustrious heroes such as Nian Zu, Lu An Jing, Shuai Jiao, and Ryo Dae Jung. Suffice it to say, there is no one in the crowd today who meets his criteria, so after a long pause, Gerel smirks and ups the age limit to sixty-three. An oddly specific choice until someone in the audience remarks that the Situ Patriarch just happens to be exactly sixty-three years old, and everyone falls silent once again to wait and see how the Society will react to this blatant challenge.

You know, if Gerel wasn’t such a massive jerk, he’d be a man after my own heart.

Chapter Meme