Jack leaned back in his chair, surveying the rows upon rows of monitors before him. He’d said he would reduce the number of incoming cultivators and he liked to think he was as good as his word.

To that end, he’d martialed his entire drone fleet, each one carrying enough explosive firepower to really ruin someone’s day.

Sure, impact explosives weren’t something he could do yet… but timed explosives? Those were easy enough. That fact, combined with his computer’s ability to detect how long it would take for those explosives to hit the ground from any given height – and the difference between impact and timed explosives became effectively null.

“There they are,” he murmured as distant campfires finally came into view, the flickering flames lighting up like stars in the grainy feed of his drone’s cameras.

The enemy had not been hard to find. Though to be fair, they weren’t trying to hide. They lit cooking fires in the day and campfires at night. How much of that was arrogance, and how much of it was a need to keep prowling animals at bay, he did not know.

He was thankful for it though.

“They’re barely two day’s march from us,” he murmured.

He also had a lot fewer drones in his impromptu bombing wing than he might like.

Seventeen.

If that number seemed random, it was because he’d originally started this little exercise with twenty. Unfortunately, from the very first time he’d sent one up, the wildlife seemed to have taken umbrage to his drones flying around and attacked them with startling regularity.

Seriously, the turnover rate for his scouts was ridiculous. Hence why he only had twenty of the damn things to begin with. Certainly, he could have bumped up those numbers by expanding the production line that created them, but until a week ago, his scouting needs had been pretty much met by his current supply.

After all, he had a map of the surrounding area. Anything beyond that hadn’t seemed important.

So yeah, because of some particularly ornery overgrown pigeons, his impromptu bomber wing was a lot smaller than he’d hoped.

Which was also why he shouldn’t have been too surprised when his bomber wing came under attack five minutes after takeoff. Specifically, some horrific bat thing had come screaming out of the night to swipe a drone from the sky.

It seemed that numbers were no protection for his poor plastic protocopters.

Two of his brave drones had been forced to play rearguard while the rest escaped the mutated aerial predator. Unfortunately, even once his other drones were clear, he hadn’t been able to have the rearguard act as floating landmines to take out the bat, because the noise of the explosion would have travelled.

So they had died a feeble – and more importantly - quiet death.

Still, those three drones had not died in vain, because now his seventeen strong bomber wing was within sight of its objective and he’d learned a valuable lesson on having things and not needing them vs not having them and needing them.

From now on he’d be stockpiling drones of all stripes – and maybe looking into some way to keep them from being ravaged by birds, bats and/or the occasional insect.

Maybe start producing cheap floating mines? Using helium and a rope?

It was worth considering.

“Incredible.”

It was not the first time Ren had said that since he’d brought her in here. And while he’d normally have basked in the unearned vicarious pleasure that came with seeing a local be wowed by his space age tech, his focus was predominantly on other things.

“Ren. Lin. Gao.” All three individuals straightened up as he called their names – though the last one seemed more than a little nervous about being in such ‘storied’ company.

Which was a fair concern to have. Normally Jack would have had Captain Kang here for something like this, but given his current antipathy towards the man for his screw up with ‘killing intent’, Jack had called in Gao instead. Plus, the sergeant tended to be just a tad more flexible than his captain, which was something Jack knew he needed here.

“Which of these tents do you think our cultivators friends will be in?” he asked.

He had a feeling he already knew, but it never hurt to ask.

“The more ornate ones, Master.” An spoke just a second before Ren.

“The… An is correct, Master Johansen.” Ren acknowledged. “As you can see, this tent here, surrounded by the others, that is likely where Clan Leader Cui dwells.”

She paused, frowning. “Though as to the location of her sister… I do not know.”

Gao seemed to be getting over his own shellshock as he leaned forward. “Aye, and begging your pardon your beneficence, aren’t there a few less fancy tents than we were led to believe there’d be?”

Jack nodded. It did seem like the ring of less fancy tents encircling the big one numbered a lot less than Men’s words had claimed there’d be. He almost asked if the cultivators were doubling up, before resisting the urge to laugh at the very idea.

“Men said her mother had twenty lesser disciples accompanying her and her aunt, but I’m not seeing any ‘aunt tent’ and only nine disciple tents.” He leaned back in his chair. “You think she was lying?”

Ren tapped her fingers against her forearm as she regarded the screen – and despite himself, Jack couldn’t help but be impressed. Despite her initial surprise and awe when she entered his inner sanctum and saw the live-feed coming from his drones, she’d adapted quickly. The awe was still there, to be sure, but it was hidden in the background now, behind a veneer of calculating intensity.

“Given the evidence, I’d say it was almost guaranteed.” She glanced at him. “Still, if you can maintain this connection with your flying familiars for a little while longer, I would suggest circling around to see if we can’t find any other campsites. It’s possible that the sisters have split their forces for some reason.”

Jack raised an eyebrow in confusion, but moved to do as she asked, sending his drones off in different directions with a few deft flicks of his holographic control panel.

“Any particular reason they’d do that?” he asked.

This time it was An who answered.

“Powerful cultivators have powerful personalities. Clashes and arguments are not uncommon. They may have chosen to… give each other space.”

Jack hummed, acknowledging the point. “They’re sisters though?”

Ren laughed. “Speaking from experience, I can say that blood-ties oft mak things worse, not better.”

Huh, he hadn’t known Ren had a sister. Though to be fair, there was very little he did know about Ren. Given that was the case, some might have considered it foolish for him to let her into his inner sanctum. And he acknowledged that on a certain level it was. Still, she’d killed in his defense and that went a long way in her favor in his mind.

Well, that, and the fact that in being party to Men’s death meant she’d thoroughly burned bridges with the Marble Cloud Sect. Even if she was part of the Jade Fang Consortium, that wasn’t something she could just wave off. According to An – and Lin – Sect Wars had been fought for less.

Much less, he thought.

So for better or worse, the dog-eared woman was with them until the end of the line.

“Uh, Master Johansen.” Gao spoke for the first time, eyes wide as he regarded one of the displays. Jack frowned as he saw it was spinning. Rather nauseatingly. It was made worse by the fact that the video feed had no audio, giving everything a somewhat weightless feeling as the displayed drone tumbled through the sky. “What was that?”

“It means our little nocturnal friend is back,” he huffed.

Or another flying rodent had come along to piss in his cereal. Either way, he was now down another drone, and soon to be down a few more if he didn’t act fast.

“Our little scouting mission has just run out of time,” he said, hopping back on the controls. “We’ll just have to hope that Men was lying and this is all we’re up against, because I doubt I’m going to get another chance at this.”

Not with the enemy army so close to his town. Either this attack would make them rethink their strategy and retreat, or they’d rush at him. If they did the former, great. If they did the latter, well, he wouldn’t be launching any more bombing missions any time soon. At least, not until he’d replenished his drone fleet’s numbers.

So he commanded his drones to position themselves over their destinations and release their payloads, before splitting up and running for home.

…He didn’t stick around to see the results of his bombing run.

He wasn’t that twisted.

Even then, with him booking it out of there as soon as the job was done, only three of his bombers made it back – the rest having been picked off by aerial predators.

Or just the same bat being really systematic about it.

Still, he hoped his attack had some effect on the Marble Cloud Sect. Because he wasn’t going to be attempting another for some time.

------

Yin had been woken by fire, heat and pain. Were she a lesser woman, the elemental attack that struck her tent might have killed her.

Fortunately, she was not a lesser woman.

She had leapt from the burning remains of tent, sword in hand, ready to do battle with whatever foe dared to attack her in her sleep.

That had been nearly ten minutes ago – and Yin was beginning to believe that no further attack would be forthcoming. The danger was gone. The Hidden Master – for it could have been no one else – had launched his fireballs from the cover of darkness and then fled before they could respond.

“The coward,” she hissed, gripping at her throbbing side as she finally lowering her blade.

Which was a signal to her followers, who had formed up around her, to do the same. Gingerly, they holstered their weapons, though at no point did any of them take their eyes off the tree line. She was not alone in being injured either. She could see more than a few of them sporting burns, cuts or favoring certain limbs.

“Go,” Yin commanded. “Secure the camp.”

Her disciples nodded, before disappearing to do her bidding. Only her second remained, the woman’s eyes peering out into the smoke and fire that surrounded them. Neither of them needed to strain their ears to hear the lamentations of the mortals that had been wounded in the attack.

They came from all around them.

Pathetic, Yin thought as she turned back to the flattened and tattered remains of both her and her follower’s dwellings. They weren’t even the target of this attack.

Her disciples were.

As evidenced by the way that only seven of her remaining nine disciples had chosen to rally to her in the opening moments of the attack. Whether the other two were dead or simply too wounded to respond, she did not yet know.

She would soon though.

“At least now we know this mystery male really is a hidden master.” Her second opined. “Peppering us with fireballs from beyond our ability to sense him. That’s a hell of a statement.”

Yin wanted to snarl at her second’s flippant words, even as she privately agreed with them. Only a master of fire control could have possibly-

“No.”

Yin didn’t quite jump, but it was a close thing as she whirled to find Bai standing behind them, something held in her arms. It was eerie just how silent the other woman was. Yin had been utterly unable to sense the other woman until she had spoken.

“What is that?” she asked, trying to hide just how much that fact unnerved her.

Bai hefted the tray sized box easily, her hand idly flicking one of the windmill-esque propellers attached to the side. The only one of four such protrusions that was still intact, the others having been snapped or bent by something. Likely the same thing that had gouged great claw marks into the top of the… thing, from which Yin could see bizarre wires spilling.

“I do not know.”

Yin resisted the urge to scowl at the non-answer. The other woman had deteriorated mightily since they’d killed Cui. Her speech had gone from being quiet and sparing to… simple. As if the act of speaking in full sentences was somehow taxing to her.

Certainly, Bai was not alone in developing odd habits as a result of her more readily embracing instinctive cultivation, but hers were easily the most pronounced.

“Then why have you brought it to me?” Yin spoke slowly.

“It’s what attacked us.” Bai said, her voice barely a whisper. “I saw them. Flying in the sky. This one was knocked down by a scaled bat before it could… drop whatever exploded.”

Yin’s eyes widened. “You saw what did this? Before it happened?” She paused. “Why didn’t you raise the alarm!?”

Bai cocked her head and Yin already knew the answer.

To do so would be against her nature. Her Dao. Which was to be silent. Unseen. Even as she stood there, Yin could see the girl was physically fighting to speak.

Which would be a problem. Not just in the short term, but the long as well. After all, when she finished exacting her vengeance on the hidden master that had dared to strike at her, Yin and her people would need to return to the sect.

They would need to return to ‘normality’.

And while the rest of her followers were not quite so far removed from normal as Bae, they’d developed troubling traits of their own. Yin knew that more than a few of the mortals accompanying them had gone missing as of late – and Yin knew not all of those disappearances were a result of animal attacks.

She supposed it was fortunate that such behavior was not too far divorced from normal cultivator behavior…

She shook her head, returning her attention to the issue at hand.

“If this attack really did come from these… enchantments,” she said, regarding the… mystic device that Bai held. “Then it works in our favor. A crafter will be a weaker in straight combat than a dedicated warrior.”

Her second nodded, seeing the logic. “This also confirms that Men encountered him.”

That brought a smile to Yin’s face. Yes, the fool girl had likely encountered this crafting cultivator, riled him up, and then died a doubtless ignoble death.

And in the process, she also revealed the sect’s forces that were on their way. Her smile faded a little as another idea occurred to her. Though what if she came to terms with him? Then found out about her mother? That would explain this attack…

No, she shook head. It was too unlikely. It was far more likely that this was an attack in response to Men’s own. Not a result of the girl having turned this hidden master to her side.

Her attention returned to the present as she noticed a notable lack of mortals putting out fires. It had been a few minutes since she’d instructed her people to start getting the camp in order, so there should have been a large crowd of mortals working to stamp out the fires around the camp.

Yet there were none.

She turned to her second – noting with some irritation that Bae had disappeared without her noticing, taking the mystic device with her.

Which was a shame, she’d been hoping to look at it. While she was no craftsman herself, a mystic device that could both fly and breathe fire was of no little interest to her. Alas, indulging her curiosity would have to wait.

“Find out why no one is putting these fires out.”

Her second nodded, darting off into the smoke.

She returned a few minutes later with an answer.

A most unsatisfying answer.

The mortals had scattered to the four winds, or at least, the peasants had. The guards hadn’t, but they were busy trying to corral those peasants that remained to keep them from following their brethren.

Cowards and fools, the lot of them, Yin thought, biting her thumb.

Outside the bubble of relative safety provided by her disciples, the wildlife would tear the deserters apart. Yin’s secret allegiance to instinctive cultivation gave her people no real protection from beasts.

As evidenced by the trail of such creatures their small army had picked up since they’d left the city. The animals had stalked them, but not attacked.

It had been puzzling for Yin, at first.

Early on, the beasts had rushed the walls of Ten Huo with reckless abandon, heedless of the futility of the act. Eventually though, that had stopped, and most within the city came to the conclusion that the animals around the city that had been ‘corrupted’ by instinctive ki had simply been culled.

Now though… Yin wondered if the beasts hadn’t just become more discerning in their bloodlust. Those that remained were smarter now. Regaining some of the hunting instincts of their former selves. Certainly, the beasts stalking her army had made a few probing attempts to poach the odd lone mortal, but they’d made no real attempt to attack.

It seemed they’d sensed the strength of Yin’s cultivators and chosen to wait. For what, the animals likely didn’t know. They were too maddened by bloodlust to leave, but to frightened of the cultivators to attack.

So they’d waited for an opportunity.

And one had come.

As Yin stretched her senses, she found she could sense those animals moving now, sweeping through the disparate groups of fleeing mortals like a scythe through wheat.

In different circumstances, it might have been beautiful.

As the situation currently was, it was annoying.

“Gather up as many of the deserters as you can and bring them back into the fold.” Her tone practically dared any of her people to complain about being given a task as menial as collecting wayward mortals. “Don’t take too long though. We leave in two hours.”

“So soon?” One of her disciples frowned. “In the night?”

She pinned the speaker with a glare, the other woman flinching back before the matriarch’s gaze.

“Do you care to wait till morning? To let our foe martial his strength and attempt this again?” She gestured around them. “No, we move now. Through the night. With luck, we’ll catch him while he is recuperating.”

Her hand moved to her aching side, trying not to think about the fact that she could also use an opportunity to recuperate herself.

No, she couldn’t afford it. Not with the beasts circling and her mortal contingent shrinking by the day.

This Hidden Master needed to die.

Now.