6.45 - Hesitation is Defeat

It only took a few moments for Tan Zihao and Li Renshu to arrive. Tan Zihao on his golden cloud, and Li Renshu on his flying sword. Both their expressions were grim, and He Yu could already tell what they were going to say.

“We need to turn back,” Li Renshu said.

He Yu cast a glance over his shoulder, toward the east. The bloody sunset still hung low in the sky, staining the sky red with Jin Xifeng’s spirit. Even from here, He Yu could feel the weight of her power.

“No.” He said the word as simply and firmly as he could. There would be no turning back. Not now. Maybe, before they’d encountered Long Tingguang, they could have backed down. They could have withdrawn to the Jade Kingdom and left the empire to Jin Xifeng. Maybe, had they done that, she would have been content with what she had. For a time. But now? There was no other course left to them.

“Li Renshu is correct,” Tan Zihao said. “Our chances before were slim, at best. Now? She’ll obliterate us all, as much as it pains me to admit.”

For a moment, He Yu examined Tan Zihao’s features. This truth wasn’t one he easily admitted, that much was obvious. Standing in the ruined crater of their battle with Long Tingguang, He Yu could trace every strain of Tan Zihao’s spirit and read its insistence in his Daoist Mind. Every fiber of his being screamed at him. This was a foe worthy of his Dao. This was the thing he needed, the push that—should he survive—would see him over the threshold. Ever further into the Eighth Realm.

But to stand against Jin Xifeng as she had been, when she was still the same expert that had slaughtered the Shrouded Peaks Elders, would have been merely foolish. This? This was suicide.

And they all knew it.

“No,” He Yu said again. “This is our only chance.”

“I understand, perhaps better than anyone else here, the call of a Dao such as yours,” Tan Zihao said. “But to charge into death isn’t heroism.”

“You’re right. It’s not. But I see the truth of things with my perception technique. With my ascent to Divine Soul Apotheosis, my Daoist Mind is clearer than ever. If there is a way to ever overcome Jin Xifeng, it’s found here. Should we turn back, the chance slips through our fingers forever.”

“You have to know,” Li Renshu said, “the Ninth Realm makes her practically a god.”

“I trust He Yu,” Chen Fei said, drawing up next to him. He gave her a quick smile. “If he says this is our path, then this is the one we have to take.”

Li Heng spoke up next. “Grandfather, He Yu’s judgment has been refined through a perception technique I’ve witnessed more than enough times to take its measure. I agree with his assessment.”

While Li Renshu repeated his protests, He Yu looked to Tan Zihao. The old tiger clearly wanted nothing more than to throw his weight behind He Yu’s plan and charge forward into a glorious contest of strength. But his age and his responsibilities to his kingdom held him back. If there was a way they could tip the scales, and get Tan Zihao to come over to their side, Li Renshu would relent. He Yu was certain.

Without Li Renshu and Tan Zihao, it would all be for naught. Their plan wouldn’t work without powerful experts at hand to deal with Jin Xifeng’s followers. It was in the multitudes from which she drew her strength that the seeds of her defeat lay. That was the plan. That was the way forward.

A brilliant colorless star descended upon their conference. It was accompanied by a surging tide and a blazing wolf. Yi Xiurong stepped off her peacock feather and glanced between He Yu and the others. In an instant, she’d appraised the situation. The arch of Zhang Lifen’s eyebrow told He Yu that she’d done the same. He Yu doubted that, despite the way Ren Huang crossed his arms over his chest and simply stood in silence, that he’d missed it either. Yet none of the three offered comment.

“There is no path forward but this one,” He Yu said.

“Then there is no path,” Li Renshu responded. His face was cold, but there was heat in his words. Concern both for his grandson, and for the people of Iron Gate City. They all knew what had happened to Plum Blossom City when Jin Xifeng had reclaimed it, after all.

Yi Xiurong stepped forward and spoke, cutting through the debate in that severe yet measured way of hers. “If you would, appraise me of the matter at hand.”

It was Tan Zihao who answered. “If it weren’t obvious, Jin Xifeng has ascended.” He waved a hand at Long Tingguang’s body. “Her servant sacrificed himself before they could cripple him. Li Renshu advises we withdraw, and He Yu wants to push forward. What do you think?”

Yi Xiurong folded her hands in her sleeves and shifted her gaze between He Yu and Li Renshu. “I think He Yu has the right of it. The threat of further rebellion and instability in the east was all that kept her confined to Jiankang. With her ascension, none of the noble clans, no matter how discontent they may be with her rule, will dare stand against her. With Long Tingguang dead, she no longer has a powerful agent to work on her behalf. If she wants to pacify the west, she must do so herself. So that is what she’ll do.

“To retreat is to court death. So too is to push forward. That much alone is obvious. At least if we advance, we might prove enough of a challenge to bring her to the bargaining table. While I personally have my doubts about He Yu’s plan, Zhang Lifen seems to trust his judgment. So, too, do his companions. Besides, if I am to die, I would rather do so fighting.”

Her words were as surprising as they were comforting. She’d basically said the same thing he’d wanted to, but in a better way. Hopefully, Li Renshu would listen to her. That she was the last remaining scion of the Yi clan would lend weight to her words with someone like the Li patriarch. He’d been enmeshed in the imperial system for long enough, and placed enough value on propriety, that he might be swayed by her status, if not her arguments.

Zhang Lifen spoke up next. “I think my former student and Duchess Yi have the right of it. My martial father, Cai Weizhe, practiced the same cultivation art as He Yu. It’s principle technique shows the truth of things. I’m familiar with its workings, as my own perception technique is modeled after it. If He Yu feels a way forward exists here, I’m certain he’s used his technique, and his Daoist Mind, to arrive at such a conclusion.”

Finally, much to He Yu’s surprise, Ren Huang added his voice to the cause. “I’ll follow him, either way. If Lifen and Lady Yi think his judgment is correct, then that’s enough for me.” Simple, to the point, and very much the Ren Huang he’d come to know in their time together since returning to Iron Gate city.

With the former core disciples of the Shrouded Peaks Sect all in agreement and on He Yu’s side of the discussion, Tan Zihao’s lips split into a broad and eager grin. “Then forward unto death it is! A glorious stand against the strongest foe imaginable.”

Relief washed over He Yu like a cold draught of water on a hot summer day. The assent of Tan Zihao himself would be enough. Even if Li Renshu turned back, surely they’d have enough strength among the king and the former core disciples to deal with the denizens of Jiankang.

Li Renshu let his gaze fall on each of them, meeting their eyes and holding contact for long moments each. Then, at length, he sighed. “I suppose it was ever to end like this. I dearly hope this works out, although I fear none of will live to regret it should we fail.”

They were decided, and it was in his favor. He Yu, Chen Fei, and Li Heng set off once again. They stayed ahead of the others, but less so than before. So far as they knew, none remained to stand in their way, now that Long Tingguang lay dead in the wilderness between Jiankang and Iron Gate City. Even should Jin Xifeng abandon the city and come to meet them, the others would still advance and commit to their bloody work once they arrived. He Yu sensed the others, just at the edge of his spiritual perception, as they drew closer to the capital. Closer to Jin Xifeng. The plan would work, he told himself. It had to.

As they flew, Chen Fei drew up alongside him on her bronze disk. She remained seated in a cultivation position, but was wholly alert, her eyes fixed forward at the crimson setting sun hanging unnaturally in the east, and the slowly expanding twilight centered on Jiankang. She made no effort to conceal the worry on her features as they drew ever closer. “How good do you think our chances are, really?” she asked.

“We’ll find a way,” he said. It wasn’t bravado or arrogance that drove him. It simply was. There couldn’t be another outcome, so far as he could see. From that moment he picked up the shard of his guandao and faced down Tan Xiaoling in the arena, he’d stepped irrevocably upon the path that had led him here. His was to forge a legend. And the first lesson he’d learned at the Shrouded Peaks Sect was that he’d only ever do so with companions at his side.

As much as he would have like that Yan Shirong and Tan Xiaoling could be here for this confrontation, he understood their place. They’s always been more distant to him than either Chen Fei, or especially Li Heng. It was fitting that the two of them were here, now. As he flew, he reflected on these truths, turned them over in his Daoist Mind. As he did, the Dao of Heroism sang. The resonance with his Way gave him comfort and confidence. This was truly the way of a legend, a hero. No matter what happened, he would become the thing he’d always been meant to. That alone gave him all the strength he needed to keep flying, keep pushing forward, and drive ever toward a battle of impossible odds.

The rest of their journey passed quickly. There was no need for stealth; Jin Xifeng surely knew of their coming. So the ground raced by beneath them in a blur of brown and green and blue. The field, rivers, and hills of the empire’s core, the settled and fertile river valleys of the eastern empire, trembled at their approach. And every larger loomed the setting sun, its crimson glow casting bloody light over the land.

Then, the walls of Jiankang broke the horizon. They stood strong and black against the eternal setting sun in the east behind them. Shadows reached out from those walls, like the hands of the grasping dead. Want, a covetous desire to posses, radiated from the city and drew all the world toward it. That want, that desire, pulled at He Yu’s heart. He cast a look to Li Heng, whose jaw was set and gaze hard. A glance and a nod—enough to know both that his friend stood strong against the call, and that he had all he needed to continue doing so.

On his other side, Chen Fei shifted atop her bronze disk. “It’s worse than it was when she broke free,” she said.

“Jin Xifeng has had decades to gather strength. She was at her weakest then, after her imprisonment. Now she’s stronger than she’s ever been.”

“If ever there was a time to forge a legend, this is it, eh, Yu?” Li Heng smiled as he spoke, but it was clearly forced.

He Yu smiled, opened his mouth to reply, but his words never came. The world broke all around them. The central empire fell away. Jiankang on the horizon fell away. All that remained was the sunset, large and blood-red, looming over the horizon in an unnatural stasis. Below, they beheld only the dead. A field of corpses, endless and every one of them reaching, reaching for the figure framed by that setting sun. The countless dead seemed to be reaching in adoration, in supplication. Eager for any boon from their master, the one they’d given everything to.

Jin Xifeng. Dressed in a gown of vermilion silk, she stood atop a mound of corpses. Arrayed about her in a starburst, like razor rays of the setting sun, floated her nine flying swords, each of them gleaming with untold killing intent. Her face, somehow more beautiful than it had ever been, bore no expression other than the weight of age in her blazing, furious eyes.

“Are you so eager to meet your deaths?” she asked, her voice as soft as it was angry.

He Yu’s heart ached. Every fiber of his spirit screamed at him. Submit! Kowtow! Give yourself to the true ruler of all heaven and earth!

He reached for the Dao of Heroism. He cycled the Peerless Judgment and took refuge in his Daoist Mind. He drew himself up to his full height. “We have come to end your reign,” he answered her, projecting all the confidence he barely felt.

“Know this, inheritor of Cai Weizhe’s arts. I will destroy all you hold dear. Your defiance offends the very seed of my existence. Once, I may have shown you mercy. Now? Your end is inevitable. You will be erased from memory, and your entire lineage ground to dust. Then I will do the same to your companions. Nothing of who stands before me will remain. Nothing, except myself. So I swear.”

A thrum of power surged through the world. Jin Xifeng’s spirit reached for them all, the grasping hands of the countless dead reversing their direction. The adoration that had once infused their dessicated remains now turned to fury, to hate. And the nine flying swords realigned, their gleaming points all aimed at He Yu’s heart.