A light, a radiant torch was born in the south. In the ruined wastes left fallow by the great scourge by the passage of the great Khan Ogodei, a flower of radiance and rebellion bloomed, far from any civilized place, and yet the whispers of its promise reached far and wide, music to the ears of those who suffered the yoke of Hui malice and negligence. Her light stirred hope, her light stirred wrath in those long helpless to resist the will of nightmare dukes; a resolve fit to match any trial was born.
In the wake of Ogodei, the province's south lay in ruins. The Li were dead, the Wu were fallen, and countless clans were gutted or dead. The Chu crouched atop their mountain, beating their chests like mountain apes, the petty kings of the wasteland left by their negligence, spitting belligerence at the young Rushing Cloud.
The South seethed with resentment. I recall it well. That hate, that sense of abandonment. The great heroes of the Argent peak had struck down Ogodei, and for a moment, there had been hope when the Emperor came, he and his son, to laud them. To chastise the Hui and raise the Sects.
The Sects were a spot of brightness, a rallying point. But they were watch towers, not a bulwark for the whole south. The Cloud came on, pillaging, burning where they could not be. And the Liar Lords sneered at all requests for aid. There were hundreds of groups, soon enough. Hundreds of groups plotting around their malicious authority, building networks and building connections.
The Hui tore them apart, like a cat tormenting an insect, one by one. No one could trust that another group might not be a mere patsy or that they would even know if they were. You could never know if the face of your closest comrade was a mask for a smiling demon, just waiting to take your skin, too.
Until she came.
Where the radiance bloomed, entwined with its rose, the plots of the Liar Kings withered, and the people rejoiced. No tricks, schemes, or betrayals could mar the pitiless light that laid everything bare. Stripped of the pall that had lain over them, the clans of the south burst forth into restiveness, their calls for an end to the cruel negligence that had dominated the fallow lands since the fall of their rightful rulers rose.
Pitiful and unworthy things that they were, the Liar Lords only scourged their own people further for defiance.
Hui Yuxuan. The Special Liason for the Argent Peak Sect.
Dead. His southern manor and garden scourged to drifting chalk like dust, a swathe of devastation that had devoured him, his household, and all of its retainers. It was an undeniable power.
His wife, one of the more recent elders of the Argent Peak Sect, was gone as well. The reprisals were vicious. The hunters in our midst went from playful cats to hunting tigers. I cannot count the number of times I felt those slimes combing through my thoughts. I am only more able to hide secrets than most; thank the Black Madam.
As the rumors came in, we still didn't believe. The scourging truth, the light of revelation… was only another trick. Yuxuan's rivals had some new toy, and we were likely witnessing a play against the current patriarch from one of the Eight. That was the thought among those of us who had been in resistance the longest.
Then she came before me, and I could no more call her false than I could hold any name but Hui Lijie in my heart of hearts. I thought I would die then and there as the burning gaze pierced me. I would have been pleased enough for it, for in my heart, I also saw the death of my cancerous blight of a clan, who had let all the south burn for petty plots, who had allowed my beloved Li Zhiyuan and all of his family die for a game, made the mountain and vale where I had spent my youth was but a wasteland of howling ghosts.
It would have been a worthy death.
I still recall her laughter and her hand lifting me from my feet like adamant shears winding around my throat. I had good eyes, but she would better aim them, she said to me.
And so it was.
One by one, she met us, those hardened cults and brotherhoods that had survived every purge, and through her, we were given a vision, a direction. Secure communication, unbreakable operational security, and a clear goal were the gifts she offered us first.
We made good use of it.
The battered clans of the south rose, and though fear dogged their hearts and stayed their hands, the righteousness of the Radiant Truth became undeniable in time. The hunters of the Hui began to disappear one by one; their agents, spies, and informants burned under revealing light. Her grace drew the enraged eyes, locking them upon her, and in the shadow of her light, the people made more subtle motions, building up where they had been cruelly ground into the dirt by uncaring masters.
But even with her great victories, there was still much doubt. The north, the old clans who yet lived, could only be cautious, for they had so much further to fall, so many lands still intact to guard. The radiance was bright, but many felt only fear at its scourge.
Until the Radiance found the one who could speak Her message with clear eyes and a voice to stir souls.
It was a rare pleasure to be the hunter. A rare pleasure to be the one who saw another's mind cracking open, layers upon layers of masks peeling away until the true self was made bare, quivering, and vulnerable under the light.
I was a kinslayer before; I am a kinslayer ten times over now. I feel no regrets. But it was not enough. Between Lady Diao and myself, there was enough knowledge of that wretched clan's internal workings to direct our actions. She and I guided our actions to target most of the faction Yuxuan had belonged to. However, we made sure to nip and bite at the others, too, all of them. No plot descending from the eight would be so foolish as to spare its own men to obscure a trail better after all.
Efforts were made to make allusions to a culprit or two anyway, though… it helped. Our Light, our Ideal… she could not be tarnished by such scheming. I speak as if it were all wholly deliberate, but in the end, there were times when she would strike as she would, as her ideal demanded. Even lies, by implication, caused her light to sear.
…The only lies that could persevere under her light were the ones that one had come to in one's mind, thinking it the full truth. And even then, if any scrap of contradicting evidence appeared, her light would make of it a searing, unignorable sore in one's soul.
It was well that she left no survivors where she struck.
It was better still when I brought a firebrand in the southwest to her attention. He had been active for some time, first as a commander in the armies of the Chu… and then as something of a preacher and an itinerant, a priest with no sect or god to call his own. He'd been ignored until now, when, even at his relatively high realm, Hui Yunfen, the wife of the Chu head, considered him more humorous than anything. That had changed, though.
Jia Hong was to be executed.