Gaius Antonius 101 - The Black Phoenix
When the Ma Empire went to war, it was a sight to behold.
A horde of horse-mounted warriors made their way across the rocky landscape of northwestern Qiguai, the bitterly cold winds of winter resisting them the whole way. Whipped to a great speed by the wind, the thick snowflakes hit their faces hard enough to sting, clinging to any surface that would hold them fast. Hats, gloves, the insides of hoods, the manes of their horses, even the insides of their quivers and the gaps in their armor; it invaded them with the same ferocity which they invaded Qiguai.
Near the front of the horde road Elder Atlan, distinguished easily by his ornate armor, his beautifully curving dark wood bow, his golden halberd and his two-ton, six-legged steed. Surrounding the Elder was his honor guard, the mightiest of his Foundation Building Experts, all armed and armored almost as impressively as he. At the rear road Elder Blackclaw, a thin, whipcord shadow riding a pale steed. Dangerous sorcery hung around her, mighty spirits bound in service which watched always for coming danger. She and her disciples, silent and professional, drove the horde forward, all the while casting wide-range support techniques to bolster their stamina, ease the aches of their long ride and keep them constantly alert.
In between these two forces of nature rode some fifteen thousand Ma Clan warriors, all eager to fight and grow strong. Many organized themselves into families, close-knit sub-Clans who rode together. Others were unaffiliated, riding with their friends or under the command of a superior to whom they had sworn their service. Overhead, trained hawks and falcons flew, as did rarer, stranger birds, scouting out in all directions and bringing back reports. Amongst those birds rode the colorfully-dressed Elder Altansarnai, who sat atop a mighty Dragonfish and watched for any attack from the skies.
This column of troops represented one of the largest force concentrations amongst the attacking Ma forces, and had penetrated deep into Qiguai territory several times already. Morale was high, and the horsemen chatted about all manner of things as they continued their steady march. This time, they would be laying siege to the Valley Contestant Sect. A new sort of challenge, but one for which they were well-equipped.
Atlan was proud indeed to be the leader of such an expedition. Never before had so many been under his command, and if he continued to lead them to victory, it would no doubt bring him greater favor in the court of the Ma Emperor. He smiled, looking up to see the familiar form of his prized falcon. While not a true phoenix, its bright red and green feathers spoke of its mighty ancestry, and embers trailed in the wake of its flight.
Atlan raised his left hand, and the falcon obediently landed on his gauntlet, reflective eyes gleaming with intelligence. It made a series of clicking sounds with its beak, a code which Ma Clan scouting birds were trained to use to give reports to their masters. one click, pause, one click, pause, three clicks - human, one, not moving.
"A single person all alone, you say?" Atlan asked, raising one bushy eyebrow. "Setting up camp, perhaps?" He mused, stroking his beard. "No, sundown is four hours from now, it's far too early."
The falcon continued its report. One click, pause, two clicks, pause, one click - unarmed, facing us, standing on foot. The Elder blinked a few times. "Hrm, could this person be waiting for our arrival, then? Are they really alone?"
"A decoy perhaps, my lord?" One of the honor guard offered. "To lure us into an ambush."
"Quite possible." Atlan nodded. "But what an odd decoy indeed. Would they not make it more enticing?"
"Should we send an advance force, my lord?" Asked another Expert.
"Mm, let's. A bird can only glean so much." The Elder agreed. "Five Foundation Building and five hundred Qi Condensation should be enough. If it is a trap, we wouldn't want to lose too many men."
"As you command." Replied the Expert, who then pulled out a large, hollowed-out bull's horn and blew into it as hard as he could. A long, booming note sounded out across the army, prompting them to, as one, stop their horses and cease any chatter. He then broke off, riding against the current, who parted before him.
——
A few dozen rows back, a cluster of mounted Ma warriors strained to see over the heads of their fellows. They were of the Longfeather family, who were generally of short and stocky stature, and so many of them had to stand up in their saddles in order to better catch a glimpse of what lay ahead of them. One of them, a heavyset woman with large, colorful jewelry pierced into her nose and ears, sat back down and turned to face the others.
"One of the Honor Guard is coming this way." She announced to her many assembled relatives. "Most likely assembling a scouting party. Try and get his attention."
In response, the warriors of the Longfeather family began shouting and hooting, calling out to the attendant so that he might take notice of them. Many followed the lead of the pierced woman, standing on their saddles and even waving their hands to draw attention to themselves. This was perhaps an unbecoming display, but for an out-of-favor family like theirs, any chance to win glory had to be snatched.
Indeed, the Longfeathera had committed a shockingly large proportion of their population to this campaign, including three of their five Experts. It was a dangerous gamble, but one which could greatly improve their standing if they performed well. Furthermore, they had hired an eclectic collection of mercenaries to fight under the Longfeather banner, further bolstering their numbers. One of these mercenaries, a young man clad in heavy black armor, added his voice to the collective, raising a clenched fist to the sky as he shouted for the attendant's attention.
Finally, the Honor Guard turned his gaze to the Longfeathers, quietly appraising them. They quieted down, allowing themselves to be judges, until finally the man pointed to the heavyset woman. "You, and one best one hundred riders. Come to the front, five minutes." He commanded gruffly, then turned around without even waiting for a response.
A clamor once more rose, this time among the warriors competing to be in the scouting party. The heavyset woman, a veteran Expert by the name of Davaa, quickly shut them down, picking out one after another and calling them to her side by name. Those chosen were made up of primarily Longfeathers, but among them were a few mercenaries as well. These soldiers could be identified easily enough, wearing not the yellow-on-brown of the family but their own unique styles.
The black-armored man was among those chosen, and let out a quiet, hidden sigh of relief which no one heard. From his domineering posture and face-covering helmet, it seemed to those around him that he had expected to be chosen from the start. A white cape flowed from his shoulders, long enough for the last foot of it to drape across the back of his horse, and a bright crimson circle was emblazoned on the front of his breastplate, within which soared a black phoenix.
They rode to the head of the pack, whereupon they met up with a conglomeration which had split off from the main body like a budding starfish. The scouting party had been assembled from five disparate factions, creating a contrasting, mismatched assembly. This was far from an ideal fighting force, who by most accounts ought to be familiar with one another so as to properly work together, but such things were hardly necessary. This paltry company was meant only to ride ahead, and to lure out any hidden danger, should it exist; they were made up of those whom it would be no tragedy to lose.
As the party rode on ahead through the snow, a quarrel nearly erupted between the members of two families, Strongheart and Speartongue, who had warred with one another one century prior and still harbored lasting animosity. These bitter words were shut down after a time by the presiding Experts, who knew how violently Elder Atlan would suppress disorder amongst his ranks.
As they rode on, some among them began to complain of headaches, and even the horses seemed to grow unsteady in their steps. Cultivation level seemed to have no bearing - all were equally effective, although most hid the degree of pain so as to not display weakness. Finally, though, it grew too much to bear, and one man slumped forward, having passed out in the saddle. Soon enough, one toppled out entirely, before swiftly waking up and re-mounting.
"Patriarch!" One warrior pleaded to one of the Experts. "Should we really-"
"Silence!" The Expert in question shouted. "We must complete our mission!"
Scouting parties were meant to be hardy but expendable. So long as one survived to bring back a report, the mission would be a success, and even the fact of a destroyed scouting party was a potent warning of danger ahead. Elder Atlan would punish them harshly if they did not bring back useful information.
The part rode on, even as the intense discomfort grew worse and worse. This time, when someone collapsed, they did not get up again. Several more soon followed, entirely incapacitated by this unknowable pressure.
The wind seemed to grow more fierce and the snowfall heavier, as if the weather itself had grown irritated with the riders, yet still they continued. The Ma were a hardy people accustomed to wild terrain and cold weather, and so were their horses. The snow grew thicker still, and light-producing techniques were used to illuminate their surroundings.
More riders fell. The wind grew sharper, louder. The riders could neither see nor hear one another, and some began to panic, shouting and feeling about for their fellows. The strange pressure grew stronger and stronger, toppling men and horses alike, where they lay unnoticed by their fellows. Still they rode on.
The storm finally died down, leaving only one still upright: the black-armored man with the phoenix on his chest. He staggered forward, his fallen horse left behind, muttering to himself.
Looking up, the warrior beheld a figure looking down at him from atop a hill. They were clad in an all-covering robe which fluttered in the cold wind.
"You'll do."
——
Gaius tilted his head at the armored man before him, who had endured his emanations the longest out of his group of five-hundred. Sixth Heavenstage, but with extremely high-quality armor for his level. A wealthy scion, perhaps? If so, that made his strong will even more notable, as those brought up in great privilege often lacked mental fortitude.
When Gaius first came to the Qiguai Clan, it was to test several candidates whose potential Redmoon had already verified, and who were known to be taking part in the Blood Path's invasion. His hopes had been high that a capable new champion would reveal themself, but he'd had no such luck. All five of them had been flawed in some way, crumbling under his interrogation and being reduced to gibbering wrecks.
Not wanting to go home having accomplished nothing, Gaius had intercepted this Ma army on a random hunch, a fragment of a vision telling him that a great power would be born from his meeting with them.
"You seem capable!" He called out, crossing the distance between himself and the mercenary in one leap.
The armored warrior shouted in surprise, leaping back a good ten feet and drawing his sword. "Stay back! Who are you!?" He asked, channeling qi into the blade. Gaius immediately noted the superior quality of the weapon; how many Qi Condensors in the entire Golden Devil Clan carried equipment like that? It couldn't be more than twenty.
"I'm here to test your abilities." Gaius announced, pointing at the man. "What is your name?"
"They call me the Black Phoenix!" The man declared, taking a stance and brandishing his sword. "You want to see what I can do? Just watch!"
Black Phoenix swung his sword, firing off a projected slash which split the ground in front of him. Gaius dodged it smoothly, only to be faced with another, and then another after that, a storm of cutting force which he deftly avoided.
Gaius chuckled, ducking under a horizontal slash. "That's not a bad-"
He could not complete his thought, as a glowing green projection of a phoenix crashed into him. Gaius blocked it with the palm of his hand, noting the surprising amount of heat and force the attack was generating. Offensive power greater beyond what a normal Qi Condensor could produce; his assessment of this warrior went up once again.
"How about this, then!?" Black Phoenix shouted,making a complex gesture with his hands and conjuring up a plume of dark smoke. Swift as a serpent, the smoke formed a circle around Gaius, who deflected the phoenix projection to better observe this new trick.
Suddenly, Gaius felt slightly lightheaded and a bit out of breath, and what little tough tundra grass surrounded him withered and died instantly. Fascinating, he thought. The smoke circle acted as a sort of vortex, sucking out vitality and pumping in a poisonous miasma in its place.
Not yet done attacking, Black Phoenix ran his free hand over the blade of his sword, coating it in bright green flames. Strangely though, there was a faint scraping sound, and not one that came from metal-on-metal - more like stone-on metal.
"Try this one! Blazing Execution!" Black Phoenix declared, bringing his sword down and launching a flying slash nearly twenty feet in length. As the technique collided with the ring of black smoke, they consumed the accumulated qi to produce even more flame, turning the ring into one of fire, which then loudly detonated.
How utterly fascinating, thought Gaius as he weathered the blast. A finishing move like that belonging to a Sixth Heavenstager should have been impossible…
…because it
was.
That wasn't Black Phoenix's own power - he was secretly using arrays, ones probably made for him by a strong Expert, and passing them off as his own techniques. Disappointing, but also highly amusing.
Gaius walked out of the smoke, and the armored warrior seemed flabbergasted to see him unharmed. Still, Black Phoenix held his ground, taking a defensive stance.
By this time, many of the scouting party's members had recovered, and were approaching the pair. They approached slowly, many of them with weapons drawn, none willing to outright attack the one who had defeated them all with will alone.
"How fascinating; you truly are a polymath." Gaius remarked. "Do it one more time, would you?"
"Certainly." Said the Black Phoenix, channeling qi into his hand once more. "I will demonstrate as many times as you-"
Quick as lightning, the robed figure zoomed forward, grasping the other man's hand just as his qi took shape. The world became a nonsense smear of color as his body was displaced, and he found himself in a very different place.
A half-dressed man with long hair and large eyes was holding Gaius' hand, and immediately let go with a shout, scrambling away backwards on his hands and feet. "What the
fuck!?"
"What the fuck?" Asked Gaius a split-second later, too confused to immediately reply to the man before him.
He looked around, beholding a chamber carved out of rock, well-lit by candles and False Sun Crystals alike. Shelves upon shelves of herbs and minerals lined the walls, and a man-sized, uneven slab of speckled granite lay in the center, radiating a feeling of immense power.
A… laboratory? Or perhaps a forge? Both?
"H-h-how did you know!? How could you
possibly know!?" Quailed the terrified man, causing Gaius to glance back at him.
He was dressed only to the waist, and even then, in little more than a pair of plain, comfortable white pants. His hair was messily tied back, the bare minimum of work to keep it out of his face, and there was a bit of soot smudged onto his cheek. Clearly, this man had expected no company. His face was rather handsome, though perhaps 'cute' was the more appropriate term, and his body, though clearly healthy and athletic, was nothing to write home about.
Why in the world would the Black Phoenix have teleported Gaius here of all places?
How in the world would he have done it, given the no doubt huge distance involved? That was not a Qi Condensor's work.
"I'm supposed to be the one blowin' you away…" Gaius muttered, stroking his chin beneath his hood. "But I'll be -
this is new to me."
"Ah, an accident…" the man stammered, setting back to his feet. He cautiously approached Gaius with his hands up and palms forward, plastering a friendly but clearly fake smile across his fine features. "I do sincerely apologize. I swear, I didn't mean to bring you here, sir. T-this is just a transportation trick of mine. If you'll just let me explain, I promise this can be sorted out."
"You're talkin' a different tone now that I see behind the scenes; I figured you were just pullin' array-slips outta some hidden compartment for that little charade of yours." Gaius chuckled, planting his hands on his hips. "Specially-made equipment, teleported into a co-conspirator's hand so he can pretend it's the work of his own techniques. How the hell are you pullin' off a two-man operation like that?"
"W-well, you see…" The man trailed off, then grimaced, clearly hesitant to reveal his secrets. Gaius flared up his qi and the man flinched. "It's not a two-man thing, it's just me! I can teleport these things so far because it's all my body!" He declared, taking several steps back.
"Go on…"
"It's a… synergy, so to speak. I'm using something called the Clone-Splitting Competition Art, and- eek!" The man suddenly stopped speaking, letting out a fearful yelp as the gently flickering qi signature before him became a sharp blade of wrath.
Gaius' body stiffened in shock, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop thirty degrees. Malice rolled off him like fog, first in a trickle, then a torrent. "Did you say Clone-Splitting Competition Art?" He asked, his voice scarcely above a whisper.
The other man appeared to all the world like a rodent caught in a trap. His breath hitched, and his voice became a quiet, choked gurgle in his throat as the weight of Gaius' wrathful attention fell upon him.
Maria, Maria, how could this happen? Gaius thought, his mind caught in a chaotic swirl of memories and emotions. Not only was she stolen away from the world - from
him - before her time, but now even her memory was disgraced. How could a wretch like this bear her technique?
"Get up." Gaius commanded, and the rat followed. Disobedience was not an option, not against Dao Emanations burrowing into his brain to compel him. He extended his open hand in front of the man's face, then curled his fingers one by one into a fist.
"Please tell me what I did to offend you!" Screamed the terrified man. "Let me make it right! I meant no harm!" The tendons on his neck stood out beneath the skin as he tried to break free and run away.
Gaius channeled a stream of qi into his loosely-gripped fist and squeezed it hard. Raw power swirled inward to a single point, death made physically manifest and held an inch from the man's face. "I don't like being lied to, boy. Worse than that, I don't like that you have that technique." He growled.
No one but Maria should have the Clone-Splitting Competition Art. If there'd been anything of her to entomb Gaius would have hunted down the scroll himself to lay it in her coffin with her. One motion would correct this error - the King's one-inch punch, the ultimate expression of Fa Jin, would liquefy this rat's head and spray it all over the far wall.
But would that be right for the Clan? Gaius wasn't here for personal reasons, he was here to seed more Blood Favored, weapons they sorely needed to keep the war going. What kind of Golden Devil would he be if he let personal hangups come before the needs of the many?
The aura of doom which seemed to surround the King's fist slowly faded away, and he lowered his arm. Gaius' Dao Emanations withdrew back into his body, leaving the other man shaken but unharmed. His pupils were constricted to a barely visible size, and his knees wobbled like reeds, but he had endured the Emanations well, just like last time.
"Now you listen up and listen good, boy." Gaius commanded, attempting to regain control of this bizarre situation. "You're gonna tell me what's really goin' on here or you're gonna regret it."
"Okay, okay, I'll tell you everything!" Replied his accidental captor. "Here's how it began…"
——
He Mingzhe was not strong. This, he knew from the moment he came into the world.
The child of a slave was, of course, a slave themself. Raised in the heartland of Demonic Altar country, the young boy's early days were occupied primarily by two things: difficult labor and the ever-present threat of pain. His father had been a tailor and shoemaker and his mother had been a housekeeper, and so was he born into both roles helping to maintain the comfortable life of his master, a Qi Condensor by the name of Luo Xia. Not that little Mingzhe or his family ever called her by anything other than 'master', of course.
The relationship was perfunctory, and generally not excessively cruel, which he supposed was a small blessing. In the cultivator's moderately-furnished, two-story house, Mingzhe helped his father launder and maintain Luo Xia' many outfits, and crawled into spaces his mother could not reach in order to more effectively clean them, or assisted in the preparation of meals. Luo Xia would slap or kick him or his parents when she was annoyed with them, but she never seriously hurt them, and otherwise paid them no mind. It was… eminently survivable.
His master was an unremarkable cultivator who never achieved much of note, and the fact that she made it to the Seventh Heavenstage before her death spoke more to the strengths of the Blood Path than it did to any noteworthy talent on her part. When she died, it was with the same ignominy with which she lived, and having no heirs, her property was seized by the Sect and put up for auction. Shortly before his ninth birthday, Mingzhe and his mother were purchased by a new master named Yi Sheng, and it was then that the hard times began.
Under Demonic Altar culture, it is frowned upon kill a child slave. This is not out of any kindness, but simply because it is a waste of one who could potentially exhibit cultivation talent in adolescence. Furthermore, a slave that is found to have substantial cultivation talent is purchased by the Sect at a good price. This incentive was just barely enough for Yi Sheng to keep the young Mingzhe alive for five years. His mother barely lasted one. Of those hard times, he remembered almost nothing, and preferred it that way - one of many tricks the boy picked up to keep himself safe.
At age 14, he was hauled out of Yi Sheng's home, a primal thing, a skinny little mass of terror, and was found to have ample cultivation ability. He was purchased by the Sect and brought to one of many academies for basic training, and here is where he once more began forming long-term memories.
In basic training, He Mingzhe was once more reminded of his own weakness, cultivator-in-training or no. For six months, he was beaten daily by both brutal instructors and stronger trainees as the fundamentals of martial combat were imparted to his flesh by force. Out of his class of one hundred, nine died, and if those nine could be said to be the nine weakest of ten trainees, Mingzhe was perhaps the fifteenth weakest. Every day, when the many hours of drilling ended, he was fed a gruel made of rice, milk, blood and cheap medicinal herbs.
Despite all this torment, Mingzhe was grateful. The boy had already learned well how to say the right words to keep himself safe, and in this environment he sharpened it further. He spread false rumors, set his peers against each other, and forged strategic alliances to keep the bullies focused on anyone other than him. He traded portions of food or tokens for time in the yard, repaired shoes and clothes with rudimentary tools made from discarded scrap, even helped torment other weaklings, all in exchange for favors. By the time graduation rolled around, Mingzhe had a circle of friends and contacts whom he could make use of in the future.
253 years after the start of the newest Demon-Suppressing War, He Mingzhe became a First Heavenstsge cultivator. Just eighteen months later, he reached the Second, riding the coattails of a powerful but dimwitted classmate named Peng An. Two and a half years after that, he hit the Third by swindling a Junior out of a large bounty of Third Heavenstsge meat for half its market value. Fast progress, though perhaps a bit less so in the Great Era.
This advancement turned out to be just in time, as the invasion of the Qiguai Clan began just a few weeks later, and there were always out-of-favor Elders to be found who would take any soldiers they could get.
Advance, avoid unnecessary risks, seize opportunities and win favor with anyone stronger than him - those were the four rules by which He Mingzhe lived his life. any word he spoke or action he took was always toward one or more of those ends. Any thoughts of the future were far from his mind in this brutal society; to keep living was its own reward.
——
The first group in which Mingzhe found himself was a company of worm-riding raiders led by an Expert named Bright-Eyes, and with them he saw more fighting in a month than he did in most years. The invasion was no blitzkrieg, but a steady grinding down, penetrating the Qiguai Clan's borders and burrowing into its territory like worms. Mingzhe took no great risks, and in doing so he made no great gains. He ate only mortals, and in battle, he stayed at the rear of the company, engaging in combat only when necessary. Some might call this cowardice, or perhaps a lack of ambition, but in truth, Mingzhe had no intention of staying with this group.
The Demonic Altar's contribution to this front of the war was intimately a small one, based more on money than on troops. When they met up with a larger company, this one comprised of Ma soldiers and intending on penetrating deeper into the country, Mingzhe was quick to turn coat, as were several of his fellows, whom he had convinced of the efficacy of his plans. They defected to the Ma, bribing them with years' worth of hoarded wealth to let them aboard, and given the two groups were on the same side, it didn't take much convincing for the famously poor and beleaguered horsemen to accept.
They rode south, deeper into Qiguai land, and the fighting grew more intense. Whereas Expert vs. Expert skirmishes had been rare before, here it was frequent, and the three Experts who led the company lost one of their number after a few months. Mingzhe and his fellow turncoats were paid less than the regulars, but that was fine, as they did not intend to stay here either. The plan spread, and a few more people were recruited. Mingzhe, as the mastermind, was given the table scraps of his stronger compatriots, and soon found himself uplifted to the Fourth Heavenstage.
On the whole, his little group skewed young and poor, a gang of ambitious people ready to make a big gamble. Ever since the outbreak of the Demon-Suppressing War, the Qiguai Clan had not allowed blood path cultivators into the secret realm, and that was obviously triply enforced now, with this war raging on. If any of them were to enter that place and plumb its riches, it would be through trickery.
The next group to come around was a company of scouts, equal parts Ma Clan and Time Shatter Sect. By comparison, this one was smaller, more elite and better-equipped and getting in would be difficult, but as it turned out, one of their Experts already had the same idea as Minzhe's group. An ambitious young Foundation Builder from Time Shatter, she was more than willing to abandon her company to raid the Qiguai Realm, and her fellow Experts were willing to look the other way in exchange for a cut of her winnings. Such is the reality of war: cohesion breaks down as the opportunities for plunder increase
The scouts rode further south than even the raiders, relying on stealth and caution to avoid patrolling Elders and sending intelligence reports back to the front lines. The Qiguai Secret Realm was painfully close, and all they needed now was tickets. The Time Shatter Expert had enough wealth to personally buy the tickets of the gang's Qi Condensation members, in exchange for half the value they found in the realm. A paltry price for a bunch of Blood Path users who couldn't make use of the realm's cultivation materials anyways. As for the Expert's own ticket, she was not tainted by the Blood Path, and so it was no issue to disguise herself as a Righteous cultivator.
He Mingzhe was not strong. People much stronger than him routinely perished in Secret Realms, in fact. But he was, if nothing else, daring, and that can count for a lot.
——
Mingzhe's group hunted down and killed a few isolated Secret Realm entrants, as well as hunting down some treasures of their own in the easier areas, but soon enough they settled on a particular quarry: a group of powerful Qiguai Clansmen(and one Golden Devil) led by Princess Li Liqiu.
Individually, these prey were all stronger than any one member of Mingzhe's group - that was of course what made them such good cultivation material. Even with a major numbers advantage, direct combat was far too dangerous. And so they followed and waited for their chance. On the way, however, Mingzhe was separated from the rest, finding himself sucked into a water current which dragged him into an upside-down sea in the sky.
Ultimately, Mingzhe could accredit his survival only to luck, or perhaps the will of another power, as he evaded the predatory fish of that sea through a combination of cleverness and not being particularly good prey. After nearly a day of darting from one strange air pocket to another, he came upon an impossible cave. In that cave was a scroll which seemed blank, but which flashed with a bright light when Mingzhe opened it.
When nothing more seemed to happen, Mingzhe regained his strength and then left the cave, finding his way out of the reverse sea and back to his gang. By his own reckoning, he had no idea how he found his way back so easily, nor why the predatory fish seemed so willing to let him pass after he entered the cave.
Keeping the details of his excursion secret from his allies, Mingzhe helped orchestrate an assassination. They poisoned the Qiguai Princess on the day of her tribulation, then attacked her entourage in the ensuing chaos.
That was where it all went wrong. In her death throes, Li Liqiu summoned new reserves of desperate strength, calling down enough lightning to destroy them all. He Mingzhe was vaporized by the blinding divine power. Then he woke up in a cave.
Or rather, another him did. That space Mingzhe had made in his mind, where he shoved all of the things he couldn't bear to remember, had slowly metastasized into another self entirely. Using the technique the secret scroll had imparted unto him, Mingzhe had unwittingly split off that dormant personality into a clone, which had now awakened after the death of the original self.
This was how He Mingzhe learned the power of the Clone-Splitting Competition Art.
It was, patently, an absurd advantage for any cultivator to have, and particularly so for a Qi Condensor. Who, in the entire world, could have learned to cast this technique normally? To create a perfectly functional facsimile of oneself, made of real flesh, able to act autonomously with the same intelligence of the user and cast techniques of its own? Furthermore, to create a superposition of one's soul in two places in space, allowing for either to serve as the 'true body' should the other die? Unthinkable. Only by engraving the technique into the brain and the soul would it become possible to cast, and even then, a separate, bespoke personality was required in order to offload the mental burden.
There were no official records of this scroll's existence, as only the technique's two known practitioners had ever discovered it. Perhaps it only made itself known to those capable of learning it. Mingzhe was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth either way, especially when destiny itself had perfectly equipped him to wield it.
Blink-Swap was a support technique intended to confuse and misdirect an opponent by teleporting an object or weapon from one hand to the other. Though teleportation techniques were rare and highly-valued, Blink-Swap's heavy restrictions made it useful only for a surprise attack. But, Mingzhe wondered, what if were to put his hand very far away? As it turned out, both clones being his body meant that all four hands were valid targets for the Blink-Swap, enabling objects and even being to be transported vast distances with ease. It even worked on the clone bodies themselves; Mingzhe need only place his hand on some part of himself, and the technique would work.
Realizing this, Mingzhe fled back to the entrance of the secret realm, taking residence in the neutral safehouse in which the wounded were treated. Meanwhile, his other body searched the secret realm, grabbing all sorts of cultivation materials to sell off later and practicing the synchronicity with which the two now acted. His mission complete, he paid the Time Shatter Expert who let in his group, then returned home to the Demonic Altar Sect.
When risk is removed, 'high risk, high reward' simply becomes 'high reward'. Mingzhe now had his eye on the greatest possible advantage he could gain: access to the Demonic Altar. Qi Condensation was, after all, a dangerous position to be in, and if he could just sneak into the Altar's sacred chamber and draw power from it, Mingzhe could ascend right away. He spent three years living under the radar, planning the perfect heist. Gather this, bribe him, learn X. Gather that, bribe her, learn Y. Patience and caution were, as always, his allies.
The first attempted burglary ended in death, as did the following ten, but that was fine; with each failure, the thief learned. On the twelfth attempt, his clone got in, only to learn the awful truth: the Demonic Altar was broken, smashed to pieces by some unknown force and left to lie there, where further use could be extracted from it. In those few seconds of shock and hesitation, Mingzhe was caught and died again.
No matter - that just meant a new plan could be made. After spending every last Contribution Point he had he had on potentially useful supplies, Mingzhe fled into the mountains. After months of travel, he took up residence in this cave, which he would reshape into a proper home over the coming years. Then, he sent in his clone once more. Eight more attempts, eight more deaths; finally, another success. Mingzhe stole the largest surviving chunk of the Demonic Altar and Blink-Swapped it into this new lair of his, to make use of it for himself.
——
From that day forward, Mingzhe explained, life had become very, very good. While one of the brothers remained in their hideout, the other ventured out into the world, able to take huge risks without downsides. Each clone being a good deal weaker than the whole, death came often, but death was but a minor inconvenience.
He climbed the foothills of Turtlebone Mountain in search of rare materials. He rode into battle in the Qiguai Clan amongst the armies of the Ma Clan as a mercenary. He robbed Righteous and Demonic alike and transported it all back to the fortress. Wealth came quickly and easily, and anything he could not use, he sold for something he could.
Each clone was, yes, but very well-equipped, and able to make whatever useful tools he needed with the Altar Fragment. Oftentimes, one clone would enter an environment to test the waters, die in the process, and using that valuable data, he would create arrays and forge equipment to better brave those trials next time. Mingzhe attained victory in much the same way as a river destroyed a boulder: steady and unstoppable effort.
All the while, stories slowly spread: He was becoming known as the Black Phoenix, an undying, fearless warrior of unknown origin, a specter haunting the battlefield. This only served to raise the price of hiring him, as any prospective contract could be written up for a certain number of deaths.
"A-anyway, that's where we are now!" He Mingzhe concluded, giving him a submissive, simpering faux-grin. "I've got a good thing going here, and it's only getting better! I'll give you a cut! Think about it, I'm offering you passive income here!" He pleaded, sweating fearfully.
It was a well-acted display, but Gaius didn't buy it for a moment. This man seemed to his assessment to be much like a rat; a clever prey animal, always plotting, always with a hidden place of backup plan. Even now, He Mingzhe would be looking for a way to spin this situation to his own advantage.
To think a man like this had inherited Maria's technique. The Clone-Splitting Competition Art was a supreme technique, fit to take someone great and elevate them into a peerless warrior. No one but her could be more suited for it. And here it was now, in the hands of…
this. Gaius' fingers twitched, craving to curl into fists and pound the man before him into pulp.
He shut his eyes, half-listening to Mingzhe's nervous ramblings and taking a deep, calming breath. cowardly or not, there was great value in what Mingzhe had achieved with his clever myth-making. Sometimes, the threat of a weapon could be as powerful as the weapon itself. And besides, it wasn't as if the man behind the curtain was useless; he paled in comparison to the falsehood he had constructed, but taken objectively, the man himself was still quite impressive.
"I'll give you twenty-five, no, thirty percent! I can still advance fast and turn a good profit with those margins. As I get stronger, you'll only make even more money." He Mingzhe declared, rubbing his shaking hands together and bowing his head lower. "Please consider it, my lord. This unworthy creature was wrong to deceive you; let me make it up to you!"
Like most good performances, this one was half-true: the rat really was scared for his life, but he was making himself look pathetic on purpose. Most likely planting the seeds of some long-term deception, where he would work for his new 'lord' for a time, be overlooked as a cowed and dominated tool, then betray said 'lord' years down the line. He Mingzhe was very dangerous indeed, to friend and foe alike.
Gaius snatched the array-smith up by the collar and lifted him off his feet, and the fear became a bit more real. He let out a strangled yelp, resisting the urge to claw at the offending hands to instead raise his own in supplication, fingers splayed and palms forward. "P-please! Please h-hear me out!" He whined, eyes darting about the room in the vain hope he would find some source of inspiration.
"I've heard plenty." Gaius sighed in annoyance. "I don't want yer money and I don't want yer beggin'. I want you to be stronger; from this day forth, you are my weapon."
Gaius pitched the man forward, dumping him onto his back and planting a foot on his chest which squeezed the air out of his lungs. "Talk about fuckin' synergy, huh!? Thought you'd coast your way to the top, didn't ya!?" He laughed cruelly, pressing down harder for a moment before letting up. Mingzhe squirmed, indignant flashing in his eyes for but an instant before it was once more replaced by calculated submission.
"I did! I was too arrogant, great lord! Please forgive me!"
"That technique is meant to make the strong stronger! You use it to pretend you ain't weak!"
"It's true, I am weak! I just wanted to survive!"
"This look really suits you!" Gaius laughed,moving his foot off the man's chest and grinding his bootheel into the man's face instead. "You little shit. That technique belonged to someone great, someone who should have conquered the world! What right do you have to use it!"
"I just wanted to live!" He Mingzhe shouted, and finally, there was no performance in his voice. This was not begging, it was an assertion of his own existence. Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke. "Every day, it's been about that! Is it so bad to want to survive!? To thrive in this shithole of a world!?"
"If nothin' else, I admire yer survival instincts." Gaius remarked, looking down into the weeping but fierce eyes of his newest candidate. He released his emanations, pouring them into Mingzhe, letting them seep through the man's skull. "Maybe you ain't completely hopeless.
Fall."
He Mingzhe looked confused for a moment, before his eyes burst wide open as the vision overtook him.
——
The boat must stay afloat, but any means necessary.
Borne across this rust-red sea, this was the axiom He Mingzhe had always known. When he saw damage to the hull, he patched it immediately, checking and re-checking to be sure that no damage remained. When the waves grew high and choppy, he battened down every hatch and took down the sails, waiting patiently for favorable wind. This chain of event and reaction was a comfortable rhythm to Mingzhe; live long enough while keeping your eyes out, and opportunities will come. Those opportunities will, themselves, bring new opportunities.
"Are you truly content to live this way?"
What was there to be discontented about? Cultivators were too frivolous with their lives, too attached to their pride and honor to reckon with reality. With the constant danger of death stripped away, one could enjoy the beauty of the world all the more. The graceful movements of a predatory cat, the primal ferocity of a tornado, the divine power of lightning.
Lightning…
A blinding bolt struck the ship's mast, burning the outside. It smoldered, would have caught fire if not for the driving rain. The booming sound of thunder made Mingzhe cringe back, slipping on a puddle and banging his head on the railing.
"It was that day that put fear in your heart…"
In the water, he saw it. Righteous and Demonic, tearing into one another as always. Flames and wind and blades every which way, death in all directions, the cultivators heedless of it, blinded by duty or greed or both. Then came the lightning, that terrible blinding shock which burned him away to nothing.
"That first death took something from you, didn't it?"
"It took nothing!" He Mingzhe retorted, holding fast even as the waves grew more violent. "It taught me the value of life! Of protecting myself! I wanted to see more, to do more!"
"You think yourself but an isolated consciousness, not a part of the world?"
The waters swelled into a massive wave, crashing over the boat, aiming to suck him down. Mingzhe clung mindlessly to the railing, even as the sea and the sky shook themselves into a clamoring wet smear of nonsense information. He took what breaths he could, ignored the screaming of his aching muscles and held fast.
When the shaking stopped, he opened his eyes, stumbling to his feet. He rushed below deck, looking everywhere for hull damage. There were several leaks, water slowly streaming in and flooding the ship's interior. Immediately, he grabbed a bucket, scooped up all the water he could and ran back to the deck. He dumped the water over and, without a moment's pause, turned to run back down, a tireless one-man bailing team.
"Of course I am!" He shouted. "Everyone's world is different! My world is everything but me! Yours is everything but you! If I don't live, if I don't protect that boundary, everything is lost!"
The storm continued for hours, and so did Mingzhe's efforts. He bailed water until his arms shook, then bailed it some more. When one of the stairs broke, he kept using the staircase, skipping that step every time. When all of the stairs broke, he propped up a ladder to take its place, holding the bucket in his teeth as he climbed. The water slowly went higher and higher, but not once did Mingzhe stop moving.
Finally, the storm abated and the water level fell, and Mingzhe's efforts overtook the speed of the flooding. The water level went down little by little, thousands upon thousands of bucketfuls taken on and bailed out as time ticked forwards. There remained, at all times, one thought on the man's mind:
'I will survive.'
"Enough. You pass."
——
"You've got willpower in spades. That, at least, I respect." Said Gaius, crossing his arms and looking down at the sprawled out form of He Mingzhe. His topknot had come entirely undone from his tossing and turning, and his long hair was now splayed out all around him. He looked up with cloudy eyes, slowly coming to.
"You pass with a C+: good enough. I'll leave ya be, and I'll also give ya somethin' real nice." Declared Gaius, squatting down and grabbing Mingzhe by the hair to lift up his head. "Now, you'd best listen well and good, boy. Understand me?"
Mingzhe nodded, whimpering quietly.
"First: You're gonna make yourself useful. You're gonna send out one of your two selves to fight the Righteous Powers. You're gonna kill them, eat them, and keep growin' stronger. Work on your other projects all you want, so long as you don't slack off on that. Understood?"
Mingzhe nodded again, the nervousness slowly leaving him to be replaced with curiosity and excitement. No doubt he was wondering what kind of gift could make his new patron so assured of his success.
"Second: if you're culivatin' fast as hell and playin' it safe at the same time, that means you have no excuse to take the easy route. I wanna see at least twelve Heavenstages and at least eight Pillars outta you, do you fuckin' understand?"
"Oh, come on!" Mingzhe whined. "Why do you even-"
Gaius slapped him across the face, then did it a few more times for good measure. "Shut it. You ain't talkin', I'm talkin'. At least twelve Heavenstages, at least eight Pillars. It's good for ya."
"Okay, okay, I'll-"
Gaius slapped Mingzhe again, a bit harder this time. "No talkin'! Nod your head!"
Mingzhe nodded, seething with embarrassment, looking to all the world like a little dog who had just been kicked.
Gaius leaned closer, until his face was just a few inches away from Mingzhe's. The guy was cute, he begrudgingly admitted in his own mind. If only his personality were better. "Now, I'm gonna check up on ya every few decades to make sure you're makin' good progress. Don't try to hide from me; I'll find ya eventually, and you'll come to regret it. If you're doin' a good job, I'll give you a gift. Good materials, or maybe a favor."
Mingzhe nodded, as much as he could with the other man's face right in front of his, at least. He gave a small, nervous smile that failed to reach his eyes, an unspoken assurance that he would follow these commands.
Gaius got up and walked away toward what seemed to be a dining table, pulled out one of the two chairs and sprawled onto it. As he waited for He Mingzhe to collect himself and get to his feet, he tried to consider the matter more rationally.
This was a good find, and he ought to stop tormenting the man now, lest he provoke open rebellion. A wild card dealing damage to the Righteous Powers all over the region was a deeply valuable asset, and the versatility of Mingzhe's potential abilities was not to be underestimated. The only weakness Gaius could think of was that, outside of the equipment he could make, Mingzhe himself was not especially strong at all. Solve that problem, and he would be at least somewhat worthy of his title.
"Nice digs, really. You carve this out yerself?" Gaius asked, looking around as Mingzhe shook off the lingering effects of his Emanations. "I guess ya had the time."
It was a bit spartan, being a safehouse hidden in a cave and all, but between the stove, furniture, shelves, forge and bellows, comfy-looking cot, cookware and other odds and ends, it was about as well-furnished as a cave could get. There was even a nice painting on the wall, depicting a misty afternoon vista in the mountains.
"This is the first place… I could ever call my own, you know that?" Mingzhe remarked, pressing his thumbs into the soft flesh just above his eyeballs to relieve the ache in his head. "A home that's just mine, only mine, no master or schoolmaster or landlord, a real home that belongs to me. A truly safe place."
"You never forget your first." Gaius said wistfully, a nostalgic smile gracing his lips. "Alright, send me back." He commanded, holding out his hand. "Your other self has to save some face, I'd bet."
——
"Do you think he's dead?" One Ma warrior asked nervously to his comrade, gesturing at the still-unmoving form of Black Phoenix, who had some fifty minutes prior called out "He speaks to me!" and sunk into a meditative position. So still was he that snow had begun to pile up on his body, turning the black armor white.
"He's still breathing, I think." Said the other warrior, eyeing Black Phoenix closely.
No one had dared to touch the heavily-armored mercenary for fear of disrupting whatever process he might be undergoing, and so the horde had slowed down greatly in the wake of that strange incident. They had instead returned back to Elder Atlan's army and reported their findings, and the horde had trudged on ahead.
They sluggishly flowed around that lump of dark metal, leaving a bubble of isolation some three feet in radius around him. If Black Phoenix remained still, he would be left behind - that was the way of the Ma Clan, and they did not have the time to wait around for this new development. They did have a Sect to besiege, after all.
"Besides, he can't die, right? Isn't that how phoenixes work?" Asked another warrior. "I've heard he returned to life in one day every time he's killed. He must be Phoenix-blooded like Wei Feng of the Golden Devil Clan."
"You're just saying that because of his Daoist Name."
"No, he really does come back to life. My friend saw him killed a few months back."
"Probably just injured."
"His head was cut off!"
"My uncle lived through that."
All conversation stopped when Black Phoenix suddenly and loudly gasped, the greatest expression of emotion anyone had seen from the otherwise stoic mercenary. In a flash of light, the robed figure from before appeared at his side, and Black Phoenix scrambled into a kneeling position. The layer of snow which had settled onto his body burst in all directions from the sudden movement.
"Thank you, great lord! This humble servant thanks the great Wise Man for his approval!" He shouted, his voice booming across the field. All around, gasps of shock and cries of dismay rang out.
The Wise Man. The figure of myth who selected the Blood Path's greatest champions. He was here? That was him?
"But of course. You are an exceptional talent." Declared the Wise Man, placing his hand on Black Phoenix's shoulder. "Today, you will become one of my Chosen! You will wage war in my name!"
Cheers rang out among the Ma warriors, who stood in awe of this divine figure. Some were already believers, others were skeptics who were now seeing the truth, and yet more lay somewhere in between, in that surreal space where a distant theoretical idea becomes concrete and visible. If the Wise Man was real, it meant their cause, their warfare, had support from a higher power, and with that knowledge came courage and enthusiasm.
Elder Altansarnai's Dragonfish descended from the sky and she leapt from its back, sending various disciples diving out of her way. Pushing her way through the crowd, she bowed to the Wise Man, her round face fixed into a respectful, courtly expression. "We are honored to be in your presence, Wise Man. Would you like to stay a while? You would be our honored guest." She said sweetly, the closest one of such noble standing ever got to begging for attention.
"This… isn't my place." The Wise Man answered. "You have your battles to fight and I have mine. I can't stay."
The Elder seemed to want to protest this, but nonetheless held her tongue. She stood aside, observing quietly as the Wise Man escorted his new Chosen away from the horde. They parted, cheering or calling out compliments to Black Phoenix or beseeching the Wise Man for blessings along the way.
Watching from afar, Elder Atlan ground his teeth so hard they felt like they might shatter. A Qi Condensation mercenary! A drifting wastrel with no past and no future, chosen over him! Atlan had fought in one bloody battle after another for centuries. He had killed thousands; tens of thousands even! Those in the Ma Empire who could claim to be his equal or greater could be counted on two hands. And yet an unproven
boy received such a blessing!?
Unacceptable. Unacceptable! It just didn't make sense! Atlan knew for a fact that there was no quality he lacked which made him unsuitable for that esteem.
Well, it was as they said, wasn't it? To those on the Blood Path, the only rule was to grow strong. Not even one's own family could be trusted, and the Wise Man elevated this path. He would not begrudge Atlan for indulging his anger, as was he right as one of the strong. He would not mourn the death of his chosen as well, for to be on the Blood Path was to walk with death hand in hand. Atlan smiled. Yes, he thought; that Black Phoenix knew the game the moment he first ate human flesh.
——
Two men trudged through the frozen woods, their boots crunching through the snow and leaving a pair of tracks to mark their journey. No one seemed to be around, but 'seemed to' was not good enough. The leafless branches of the trees seemed to reach out to them like sharp, jagged fingers. In a place like this, it felt as if a hidden danger could be around any corner.
No, this wouldn't do. Someplace even quieter would be ideal.
The shorter man was on guard, his senses trained for any threats. The rustle of branches in the wind, the plop of snow falling from overburdened treetops, the quiet padding of small animals, he subtly reacted to all of it. This was a creature of reaction, thought Gaius, a man whose only real virtue was his vigilance.
"You're a real good actor, you know that?" Gaius laughed, clapping the clone's armored back playfully. "Ain't many out there who can lead on a crowd like you can. Hell, ain't many who're such well-rounded crafters - most people specialize too hard, thinkin' they can achieve some world-class masterwork."
"They're idiots, thinking they can rely on the support of others forever." The clone scoffed. "It makes them vulnerable to betrayal and bullying; I don't know how they can stand living like that. My name is He Wenyan, by the way."
Gaius blinked in surprise for a moment, before remembering the nature of Maria's technique. So this was He Mingzhe's 'other self', the sin-eater he created to take on his trauma and leave himself sane. Wenyan was a more aggressive sort than his 'brother', his body language louder and more forward, his voice a bit rougher.
"Same nature, different personality. Same words, spoken in a different dialect…" Gaius muttered, rubbing his chin. He Wenyan turned and shot him a puzzled look, the red plume of his helmet swaying with the motion.
At last, something promising came into view: the remains of a raided and burnt-down down, the skeletal husks of the buildings seeming to reach up to the sky in a vain grasp at salvation. Wenyan made a quiet grunt of recognition, which meant that Ma Empire horde must have destroyed this town as they rode through. Yes, this would do just fine.
As the pair entered the town, Wenyan looked around, his gaze lingering on the ruins as if snagged by them. Whatever the reason for this may have been, the armored warrior said nothing, and continued to follow behind Gaius. One building in particular interested him: a watchtower, smashed in half and toppled over by some brutish technique, or perhaps just the raw strength of a body artist.
The trek was eerily quiet. No human remains lay anywhere; the Ma were resourceful people, and used every part of the body for one purpose or another. Anything of value had been taken, and anything without value had been destroyed so as to ruin it for future use. These ruins were not filled with destroyed buildings so much as they were filled with splinters and rubble, which therefore perhaps suggested the prior existence of buildings. Only the watchtower and fragments of the outer wall remained in any capacity, like the jagged ribcage of a picked-clean animal carcass.
"There's no hope." Wenyan remarked. His tone was glib, but carried a faint undertone of sadness, like a wound which had long since scarred over.
"Pardon?" Asked Gaius, pausing at the smashed-open gates of the tower and turning back to Wenyan.
"No hope for anyone." Wenyan shrugged. "Most humans live and die in the dark as mortals; slaves in some nations, menial workers in others. The lucky ones become cultivators and kill each other over resources. I never had a chance to not be a monster, but I think most cultivators would become one if it benefited them."
Gaius hummed noncommittally. "And so, there's no hope?"
"No hope for us to ever be better." Wenyan sighed. "People are evil by default. Maybe a comfortable and virtuous upbringing can change an individual, but as a whole…" he trailed off.
"Sounds like ya don't like other people much." Said Gaius.
"I suppose I don't. Mingzhe is enough company for me." Said Wenyan.
Gaius led Wenyan down into the basement of the watchtower, a dusty little room which must have once stores weapons and supplies, but which was now stripped bare. It resembled nothing moreso than it did a purposeless pit in the ground. Then, as Wenyan finished walking down the creaky wooden steps, Gaius pulled him close and spoke.
He whispered the word like it was something meant only for them. Like a promise between lovers, or the last words of a parent, or a sacred, secret covenant.
THE FIRST GIFT
耗
IS PASSED ON
Wenyan staggered back, his eyes filled with an unnameable terror. Awareness like he had never known shot through his being then, an awareness even Gaius himself did not share. He could only imagine what the blessing must feel like, to be linked with one's own qi so intimately.
"What are you!?" The clone asked, continuing to flee until his back hit the far wall. "What are you and what are you trying to do!?"
"I am a shadow. I am your savior. I was created to destroy the Righteous Powers, first in the Virtuous Flipper, then across the Third Sea, then across the whole world." Gaius declared, spreading his arms gregariously. "You've been chosen, and now it's time to do your part. Conquer! Feast! Destroy the Righteous!"
"I'll do it!" Wenyan declared, clenching his fists and thrusting out his chest in an attempt at a show of bravery. He was feeling the power now, the endless font of energy bubbling like magma within him and begging to be put to use. "With this… with this…"
"You can do anything?" Gaius chuckled, crossing his arms and tilting his head in bemusement. "That's good, I like that confidence."
"Twelfth Heavenstage and Eighth Pillar, right?" Wenyan asked. "I'll do that easily."
"Glad to hear it." Replied Gaius, turning and leaving without another word. He heard Wenyan's nervous, shuddering laughter echoing through the ruins behind him.
"Another happy customer…" he chuckled, before picking up a faint presence at the edge of his senses. A cluster of suppressed qi signatures hovered in the woods a mile out of town, rendered an indistinct blob by some kind of scrambling. It was fairly impressive, if easily foiled by Gaius' enhanced awareness. He headed towards it, whistling.
Gaius stopped in the middle of them, noting their locations. One and all, they hid themselves well, radiating almost no killing intend and giving off next to no sound. The King raised a hand and pointed behind himself with his thumb, toward the ruins. "Hey fellas, go get 'im."
——
Wenyan's eyes jerked open, shaken to consciousness by a sudden jolt of pain running up his spine. As this alarm array activated, so too did a defensive one, conjuring a glittering, translucent field around its maker.
When had he fallen asleep?
There was a metallic clatter against the barrier, which began to collapse under multiple strong impacts, and Wenyan surged to his feet, drawing his sword and swinging in a random direction.
The staircase exploded into tiny fragments, and the ceiling was smashed as well, simply from that half-formed wave of qi and aggression. Stone fell upon Wenyan like fists as the ceiling caved in, and he heard someone scream as they were caught in the cave-in as well.
"Who are you!? What do you want!?" Wenyan roared, slashing the rocks to bits and leaping out of the collapsing building. Before he could even land, a dozen people were on him, shadowy figures garbed in bluish-black, swinging various wickedly sharp weapons.
He Wenyan, for all of the equipment he carried, was physically an ordinary cultivator. As he activated a jade slip to launch a wave of burning needles, he prepared to be quickly overwhelmed. Three enemies were shredded apart by the flechettes, and he turned to meet the rest with his blade.
Wenyan had meant only to parry the closest assassin's blade, but instead it was shattered. He stepped back to gain distance, only to find himself propelled back over ten feet. Wenyanms eyes bulged in shock as he realized just how far his basic reinforcement could escalate now.
"Hah! You picked a bad time to make an enemy of me!" Wenyan taunted, running another jade slip over his blade to coat it in green flames. The Black Phoenix is reborn!
One, two, three. With each swing, an assassin died, as unfamiliar power and speed propelled He Wenyan forward, darting from one opponent to the next. He fought like a cornered animal, for that was what he was; a vicious, thrashing thing, eyes and teeth flashing in the dark. Snicker-snack, and a fourth killer died, bisected at the waist.
A sharp pain snapped Wenyan out of his power-rush, and he looked down to see a curved knife embedded in his side, expertly slipped between the plates of his armor. He pulled it out, already feeling lightheaded. His movements grew sluggish, and the assassins capitalized on that moment, pouncing as one.
Oh well, perhaps a flawless victory had been too lofty a goal. Another jade slip appeared in the Black Phoenix's hand, which he held upright. A bright flash, tens of times brighter than daylight, illuminated his surroundings, blinding the unprepared assassins. They were disciplined, and even in their blindness could tell roughly where their target was, but this was enough of an opening for the weakening Wenyan to slay one more and escape.
Swinging his sword clumsily, Wenyan sent out a cutting wave big enough to kill all who remained. Still, the opponents were skillful, and while two were rent apart, three others dodged, flinging wickedly sharp needles at him. Wenyan knocked a few away, but two got through, biting into his flesh in the gap between his breastplate and pauldron. The awful sickness grew far, far worse.
Seeming satisfied with their work, one assassin looked at the other and nodded. The three turned to run, their bodies cutting through the cold night air. From their assurance, Wenyan surmised that he would be dead very shortly, which was, if nothing else, irritating.
The Black Phoenix went to make chase, only to stumble. Dark, bubbling blood oozed from his mouth and eyes, and his muscles refused to obey his commands. With one last surge of willpower, Wenyan raised his left hand and activated an array-slip. A bright-green projection of a hawk flew out, shooting forward at incredible speed and blasting a hole right through one of the assassins. With that last, spiteful attack completed, Wenyan toppled over and everything went dark.
——
He Mingzhe winced, feeling a sharp pain in his soul as his other body was killed. His tongs and hammer slipped from his hands, clattering on the stone floor as he reeled from the sensation. The sensation of dying remained unpleasant and jarring no matter how many times it happened, as did the damage sustained by Mingzhe's soul from the sudden separation. He knew from experience that he would not feel wholly well for another day.
Well, there was no rush. Mingzhe channeled the Blink-Swap technique, bringing Wenya's body to his side, where its sudden appearance displaced the air around him with a
whoosh. The wounds inflicted by those poisoned weapons were hardly a pretty sight, leaving his flesh corroded and necrotic. More than just pragmatism, this was an insult from Altan: 'you are not even worth eating'.
Mingzhe snorted with amusement. Let his enemies fight however they wanted; none of it would ever truly reach him. One of his bodies had just killed ten elite Ninth Heavenstagers while himself being at the Sixth, an accomplishment which was well worth such a mild inconvenience. With a wave of his hand, Mingzhe absorbed the clone's essence back into himself, leaving the body itself to crumble into dust, only his equipment remaining.
Turning back to the Altar Chunk, Mingzhe picked up his hammer and tongs and returned to his work. It was a sword, or rather, Spirit Steel in the shape of a sword. Much work remained to be done until it could be called complete, and thus worthy of the word.
He hammered away maniacally, shutting out all else aside from his work. His most recent 'death' was of no consequence, nor was any half-finished projects he'd had in mind beforehand. What mattered most right now was a weapon, one of
truly surpassing quality. Every bit of the Foundation-quality Spirit Steel he had gathered with painstaking slowness would be put toward this task.
This piece of the Demonic Altar held immense strength, enough to infuse incredible power into He Mingzhe's work, but its influence was ultimately limited by his own ability to enchant something he made. In other words, the more power he could put into his creation, the greater its baseline, and the greater its baseline, the more of the Altar Chunk's power it could contain; it was a multiplicative effect. If He Mingzhe were to put his full effort into a weapon now, after receiving this unbelievable blessing… just what kind of power could he wring out?
The red-hot metal slowly took shape under his hammer, one strike at a time, until the glow faded too much to continue. Without pausing, Mingzhe grabbed the blade in his tongs and slid it back into the forge. As he worked the bellows, the young Blood Chosen thought about how he might enchant the weapon.
A straight sword was ideal, and a large one at that. He didn't have enough Spirit Steel to make a greatsword, and didn't want to wield one in the first place, but at 40 inches in length and 2.5 in width, it was fairly large for a straight sword. This was to provide the best possible canvas for array-carving, to make a well-rounded and extremely powerful weapon. More specialized tools could come when he had the resources. Sixfold patterns of channeling, strengthening and repulsion, to withstand or channel any technique. a fivefold pattern of flight, for fast movement and smooth, easy control. A fourfold pattern of projection, to slash from tens of feet away. Five threefold patterns of restoration, each one linked to one of the other patterns and to every other restoration pattern, providing a redundant self-repair system to keep the weapon in tip-top shape through any amount of use.
An interlinked array system like that would require simultaneous activation; the amount of qi required for one of this strength would kill any normal Qi Condensor, or even an unorthodox one. But with his newfound qi efficiency, it was possible. This extremely powerful and robust enchantment would be further amplified by the power of the Altar Chunk, which seeped into the weapon with every strike of his hammer. Already, Mingzhe was mapping out where to place the weapon's arrays even as he worked the bellows.
When the sword was done, he would need to start over, collecting high-quality metals and tempering agents. He would sell everything he currently had to purchase new crafting manuals from the Sorrowful Blacksmith Sect(they would never sell to a Blood Path artist, but a middleman could always be hired). He would forge weapons and armor which made anything Mingzhe had made before look like worthless junk. With that superior equipment would come the strength to hunt down superior alchemical regents, and from those would come superior pills and elixirs. He Mingzhe's entire operation would be rebuilt, brick-by-brick, until he stood on the greatest possible foundation.
Then, finally, the legend of the Black Phoenix would rise again.
——
This guy is one I've been cooking up for a while. I did a set of fate rolls for a hypothetical character's turn one Qiguai Realm visit and they got +12 impact, +8 impact and +5 impact, or something along those lines. After some thought on how to fluff those, I came up with He Mingzhe, a clever trickster who uses a combo of broken abilities to pretend to be a terrifying warlord.
I ended up having him be an extra from Flavius' turn 16 fate as a sort of Easter egg, in order to create a greater sense of connectivity. The two characters don't really have anything to do with each other, they just happened to cross paths back then.
If you're wondering why his version of the Clone-Splitting Competition Art is worth fewer points than Maria's, it's because he is less psychologically suited for it, and thus manifested a weaker version. His two clone bodies are each about three quarters as strong as his unaltered self, and the cooldown timer is about a day, not an hour. They also don't gradually grow stronger by competing with each other. It's still overpowered(especially with Conqueror more than making up for the relative weakness of the two bodies), but some of the aspects that made it absolutely ridiculous have been toned down.
Rather than a localized threat, He Mingzhe will be a gradually escalating region-wide Nuisance, dealing damage to the Righteous powers all over the map and being impossible to get rid of. As shown by his fight with those assassins, even with Conqueror he is not a force of nature, because underneath his many layers of bullshit the man himself is rather weak; a pathetic Wizard of Oz-like figure. Still, does that really matter when defeat and death is of little consequence?
Remember kids, He Mingzhe is like Diavolo: all of his deaths are canon. 
