Interlude II

Khan Sen's Peace

The disk in the sky dispersed, blown out like the flicker of a candle. The pillar of wind faded, its Qi returning to the feral wild. Khan Sen watched aghast at the man standing among the clouds who had a serpent crawling around his shoulders. The scales on it glimmered in rainbow colors that flared with the elements.

"Wang... Xuan."

Fear washed over Khan Sen like a drizzle, extinguishing his passion. The fire that raged through his veins froze to a standstill. His body moved without his mind. One step, two. The serpent directed its gaze on him and he stopped. His shoulders sunk as his strength left him. It was a foolish notion to believe in escape now. It doesn't matter, he convinced himself. He'd made his peace before the attack. To get away with his life had never been his goal.

"We..." Khan Sen swallowed his fear, his instinct for life. His end had come, so be it, but there was something left to be said. "We don't know all of what it is you hide," he pulled on his words like a rope, ringing for courage that willed him further. Until the end, like them. "But it doesn't matter. The people have seen it. The events of this day will spread, and you will not stop it. The Red Maiden and her companion have paved the way! We've shown the way! Others will tread it!"

"Silence," it was like a whisper next to his ear, and his world was gone.

"Luo Zheng. You will come with me to explain yourself," the voice declared. "Leave someone in charge of the city while you're gone. Have them sent some men to Hanzhen and Guangen to help establish order."

The voices faded. Khan Sen's eyes remained wide open, but his vision dimmed. He embraced his end as the days of old swept past him.

Shieyin Mei. Her death wasn't an illness. He didn't need evidence to know that. That day, he'd seen her running through the city, crying for help. He was among them; the wretched cowards that turned a blind eye. His inaction was unforgiving.

Khan Sen wished to avenge his daughter who had suffered the same fate as the young maiden, Shieyin. Back when he'd been powerless - still a mortal - they took her. Like a fruit ripe for harvest, on the day she'd reached twelve years of age. He'd since lived his life, swearing revenge. One day, he'd be strong enough. He'd trained patiently, waiting and plotting. One day, it was like a curse he'd laid upon himself. All of it, petty excuses. When the young girl was before him, running for her life like his daughter once had, he was still too weak. It is too soon to act, so he'd believed; one day, waiting instead of reaching out.

He'd called his cowardice patience, and misplaced intelligence with fear, whereas a young man far weaker, yet stronger in will than he would ever be, sacrificed his life to try to free her. A failure in the eyes of many. A tragedy to be told and lamented, to be held in honor, but nothing more. In time, the people would forget about the courageous display of the two youths, but Khan Sen could never. Their will to stand had opened his eyes.

He could continue to wait, and nothing would change. Dreaming and pretending that he'd one day attain his desired might to act out his revenge. But in reality, he was complaining while stagnating, ruminating in his excuses while he prayed to the heavens for a gift that would never come. It made him no different than the rest. When he'd realized it, he decided to act at last. He'd burn brief and bright like them to light the darkness others refuse to acknowledge.

Can you see it now, my brethren?

Can you hear it now, my friends?

What is so clear in front of us?

We're cattle to be raised.

Let it be no more...

Khan Sen drew his last breath at peace.

Interlude End

***

IX

Godlike

"Who are you?" I asked and regretted it too late.

The manor was a sad shadow of its former self. All but ruins, torn to shreds by the wind, revealing the face of the night sky to the underground. Only the tremendous gate was left unblemished; its seal shaking off the debris like dust.

I helped Nysha to her feet, but my attention was directed at someone else. Neither of us had noticed him at first. She still didn't. When I understood, my mouth had already posed the question to my regret. I pushed Nysha behind me, steadying my trembling hand. It was a show of protection that held absolutely no meaning.

In front of us stood the harsh reality of the world. A cultivator whose strength exceeded the mortal imagination. The space around him distorted, crackling as if about to break like glass. A war between the natural order and his existence. I'd seen such like only once before when the sect master of the Falling Star Sect had come out of his seclusion to personally announce my banishment.

The existence before us gazed at the dot of a figure floating in the sky as I held my breath. Nysha was silent but confused, moaning when my grip on her arm tightened. Any ideas about sneaking or running away vanished when he centered his gaze on us. We were lambs tied at their feet, thrown into a cage at the mercy of a tiger we didn't was hungry or not. Our fate was no longer up to us. It had probably never been for as long as cultivators like him existed.

"Were you sent by them?" His voice echoed in my mind without a sound being spoken. A shudder swept over me as he leafed through my existence like an open book. Wang Jen's Second Decree held no sway over him. I gulped down the implication it carried. "No, you're too weak. And so meticulously sealed... Hm, you don't see that every day."

"My utmost apologies, your Excellency. I was blind and foolish, unaware of who I was speaking to," I dropped to the ground, prostrating as if in prayer, pulling Nysha behind me. A god, he wasn't, but he might as well have been compared to us. "I humbly ask of you to allow me to atone for my ignorance."

My head hit the ground, and to my relief, I heard Nysha do the same. I felt her body shaking like leaves in the wind. I couldn't blame her. There was something primal in one's soul that was insuppressible when met with the certainty that nothing was in your hands any longer. A distinct kind of fear with which came solemn acceptance of your powerlessness.

"Be at ease, young ones," his laugh sounded to me nothing like the meaning of his words, "I have no interest in you." My body deflated as I exhaled in relief. Lying to his lesser was beneath him; he would never go back on his words. "I am but a spectator, like you, I suppose, and I must say," he looked at the gate which responded throbbing like a heart, "it's been most interesting. I believe if fate wills it, we may meet again, young Fang. I wish you the greatest fortunes on your endeavors, and an ever greater Will to see them through, but remember, enjoy your time while you still can. Body and mind may last, youth does not.

"May the heavens turn a blind eye to your like," the scenery of the world painted over him like a brushstroke, and he was gone, his words echoing his parting.

I let go of the ten breaths I held, rising to my feet. Next to me, Nysha sniffed, still prostrating on the ground. Some believed that meeting the heaven-defying was a blessing. That one could grasp some profound truth just by standing in their presence. A glimpse at a great technique or wisdom. But the truth is rarely as it's told in stories. Meeting him wasn't a great experience. A whim of his and we'd have joined the records past. What if he had a feud with an untraceable lineage of ours from generations long forgotten? Nothing would have protected us, not even the hollow backing of my name.

"Are you alright?" I tried to help Nysha to her feet, but she didn't budge. She grabbed her trembling arms, muttering to herself.

"What was that voice?" She sobbed, her face fixated on the ground. "Who was talking? The gods? I... It..."

The realization dawned on me. His being had become one of the purest Qi. Nysha couldn't even see him; she'd never been trained. She might not even have comprehended his words correctly. I couldn't begin to imagine what that encounter must've been like for her. A divine experience... Many believed that immortal practitioners are akin to gods, reaching over time. To most, that was not too far off from the truth.

"It's alright," I knelt beside her, steadying her shoulders, "it's alright, Nysha. He's gone."

"Have I wronged?" She was shaken to her soul, shutting her eyes and ears as she grabbed at her head in dismay. "Am I to be punished? I didn't know. Please forgive me, I didn't know. Nyev Alra-saal, medare. Nyev Eaya-saal, kumare. Kalre, san Saal. Kalre..."

Her words trailed into more incomprehensible dyrak, a continuation of itself. She was drowning herself in her own whirl of interpretations.

"Nysha! Look at me, Nysha!" My fingers dug into her arms. "Nothing's happening," I whispered into her ears with utmost certainty. "You did nothing wrong."

"I didn't...?" Finally, my words reached her, and she returned to look at the world around her. "But... He said to... to..." She frowned, her face in tears, struggling to even remember.

"You'll be fine," I stared into her red-rimmed eyes. "Gods do not speak to the mortal. You know that. He was no god," I accentuated each of the words, letting them sink into her, "but a cultivator. One that discarded his mortality. You have heard of it before, no?"

"A cultivator..." she mumbled, clarity returning to her eyes, "I-I've always thought them to be feared... But never this. I'm sorry, Shin, I'm alright now... I've... embarrassed myself."

"Don't be," I smiled, "it's normal, believe me. Nothing to be ashamed about. I didn't fare much better."

She nodded meekly, and I helped her up, hoping it'd be for the last time that day.

"What now?" We both asked each other and we chuckled with a bit more strength in us.

"You've still got your pouch?" I asked and she nodded. The wind hadn't blown it away to our relief. "Then let's go. Whatever is going on upstairs, I want no part of it."

She agreed, eager to leave the ruins behind. There were plenty of new exits to choose from the damage left behind by the disastrous tempest, allowing us to leave into the night unseen. Relief carried our steps far more than the feeble weight of our haul. It suddenly seemed so insignificant to the rest of it all.