notanautomaton
I've got 99 quests, I've finished one
[X] Pass command to Xia Lin
The prevailing arguments for putting Xia Lin in charge so far seem to be based around trying to give her a feeling of usefulness and inclusion.
The thing is that those are bad arguments for handing over field command in an unknown situation.
There are only 2 of us present. We don't have the force to go in guns blazing unless everyone in there turns out to be yellow or below. And even then if they take the formation down wrong deliberately or it gets damaged in any fighting we're at ground zero of a really big boom.
If this outpost is still occupied by the Hui, Ling Qi's stealthy approach is almost certainly better until we can at least ascertain numbers.
If it is not occupied by the Hui, then Ling Qi's flexible approach is still likely to be better to figure out what we're dealing with.
If we had more troops here then I might be tempted to hand over command. But as is Xia Lin is probably better in an advisory role, telling us where a barracks might be, probable command post locations if it is occupied etc.
People assume that Xia Lin is an Ultramarine that unerringly follows the code. I'd assume that a member of an ultra elite military campaign would be skilled at military improvisation.
Fucking get in there Gan, your nextWhat Gan probably needs more is scarier encounters to provoke Domain Insights. Getting stabbed eleventy billion times by a dancer with a knife or get hit on by Lin Hai's fox spirit to induce jealousy in SOMEBODY UNAMED are experiences he just can't get playing kiddy games in the Outer Sect.
Going on some damned fool idealistic crusade out into the Deep Wall as part of his bosses quirky miniboss squad is a start hopefully he gets molested by some Land of the Midnight Sun spirit who showers him in techs and babby spirits to glomp because he suplexes some burly ice prince in a friendly shirtless wrestling contest at the behest of some rando in his diplomatic party can't imagine who.
The dark branches teemed under her spiritual senses. Among the trees, thousands of mismatched knothole eyes peered back at her. Little spirits of wood and growth, hiding behind every clump of needles and clinging to every trunk. The river's burble was a low pitched song, echoing from the forest deeps. Faeries of cold and wind danced among the frost dusted canopy, fragile snowflake frames tinkling like bells.
She didn't even flex her aura when faeries swirled close to toy with her hair, or wood spirits clung to her hems with little claws of sap and bark, letting her carry them for a time before dropping onto new trees or rare patches of unoccupied soil.