“...Your Divinity, the Courier has returned,” a eunuch official relayed to the Divine Emperor.

Raising an eyebrow in genuine, if minimal surprise, the man-god replied: “Oh? Send him in.”

The little man walked into the throne room and kowtowed as appropriate. Not in a mood to wait for the whole sequence to be through, he commanded: “Stand. Did you fulfill your task?”

“Yes, your Divinity. I would not have returned if I had failed, for I would have died in the attempt. Though, I may well have died even if I had succeeded, if another had not offered up his life to complete the donning ritual in my stead…”

“As an Imperial Courier, your life is more valuable than even a Commissar, let alone a common soldier,” the Emperor proclaimed. “If you suspect that even a single man in that outpost was unwilling to sacrifice himself for the Empire, just say so. I shall see to it that they are re-educated and you will be rewarded for each of their heads.”

Visibly taken aghast by the implication, the Courier defended a group of strangers: “No, it was… It was not like that, your Divinity! They were good soldiers to a man, they aided my efforts without question or hesitation! One of them simply demanded that he be allowed to act as the sacrifice, to atone for some sort of mistake.”

It was clear that the Courier was a virtuous man. Too virtuous for the purpose which Xiān Dì had initially envisioned for him… But there were still many uses for him. Xiān Dì would make a face of him; a figurehead for his New Era of Cultivation, his great leap forward. Deciding to leverage the Courier’s moral compass and his obvious sense of duty to Emperor and homeland, Xiān Dì made all his scrying mirrors retract, and with a gesture, banished every living soul from his throne room except for the Courier.

As the man-god stood from his throne and walked towards the Courier, confusion and fear were evident upon the little man’s face despite his best efforts to hide them. He tried not to turn away and audibly struggled for breath in Xiān Dì’s immediate presence, despite the emperor wearing innumerable aura suppression artefacts and suppressing it even further with his own effort. However, this was a great success in Xiān Dì’s eyes. He had expected the Courier to collapse outright at his approach. The Courier’s spirit roots ran deep, deeper than even his own, but that was not saying much; Xiān Dì hadn’t gotten this far by relying on natural talent.

“You’ve done well, Fang Liu. As promised, I will have you and your family relocated to the Thousand Lakes Province. You will become landed gentry in the region, and your first task shall be the founding of a new organization: The White Dragon Cultivation Society. I would see to it that the most promising cultivators of our great empire are given the opportunity to practice the old arts which have been locked away in my libraries for all this time.”

Before Fang Liu could even utter a sound of confusion, the Emperor was gone from before him and back upon his throne, continuing: “Great evil rises in the lands beyond the Black Wall, and though it pains me to do so, I would foist upon you this grim duty. I sense another war on the horizon.”

“Your Divinity, I… May I ask a question regarding Ser Von Wickten?”

“Ask.”

“He made it clear that you had permitted him to pursue the Heretic’s Daughter, claiming that he could find her no matter where she was. I… Do not trust that man. Was he telling the truth?”

Amused by the bold-faced accusation and genuinely happy to talk about one of his favorite creations, Xiān Dì nodded: “Yes, he was. As the subject of his Pure Purpose, he will always be able to find her with increasing precision the closer he comes… However, the magic goes both ways. I suspect that a creature of instinct like her will be able to detect Von Wickten’s presence from a significant distance. Now, regarding your transferral to the Thousand Lakes region… I shall assign the Third Provisional Divine General as your retainer.”

Xiān Dì clapped his hands.

“Gonubana!”

A masked woman with a huge wheellock rifle on her back appeared as if out of nowhere. Her left arm and leg, as well as a significant portion of her body were visibly made up of jade-encrusted silver.

Zel suddenly felt an ominous pang in her stomach. She tossed the pew aside, it spinning and landing on its narrow side. She pulled out her Tablet, retrieving blade after blade as she justified her compatriots’ looks of concern: “Something is wrong. A malicious something is approaching, fast. Two minutes at most.”

Two-dozen blades plus one; twelve good ones, six truly nice blades with cold-iron reinforced edges, six pig-iron fillers, and one of the high-tier Dragon Knight blades which she fixed to the Butcher using Arcline, with all the others being wrapped up in her braids for the time being. Lightning crackled over her skin as it turned a shade of bronze, her muscles writhing as she imbued herself with Metallum and fed her Thundergods. There would be no gradual escalation of force - she intended to meet the threat with maximum force from the outset.

“...I’m going to assume the fact you can sense it from this far means it’s something big,” Vic uttered, hastily stowing his notebook and leaping to his feet, Oculus in hand and his skeletal creation floating like a marionette behind him.

Zef fixed her mask to her face and Jorfr retrieved his hammer, summoning his armor of frost.

“I may need you to distract it for a short while. Once I pass the Fifth Step, I’ll be out of commission until Storm Conqueror’s Mantle takes hold.”

“Doesn’t that take more than two minutes?!”

“It was three minutes and some change back in Arches. I’ve gotten it down to two minutes at most… And I can pause the process to defend myself if I need to, thanks to my communion with the Stormbloom. If we’re lucky, it will be ready before-”

She didn’t get to finish that sentence.