Beneath the Dragoneye Moons

Chapter 472: Minor Interlude - Qiao Zhi

Chapter 472: Minor Interlude - Qiao Zhi

Silver Qiao Zhi was a busy, busy man, but he always had time to hold onto the brass love charm Lin Lei had given him. The [Battlefield Observer of the Threefold Reflection - Radiance] was attached to [Tactician] Huang Ling in [Great General] Pang Nuan’s army. Zhi swelled with pride as he considered how important his job was in the grand scheme of things.

He would win the war. The Mandate of Heaven had blessed the Yan, and it was through Qiao Zhi’s efforts that victory would be obtained.

Zhi scanned the battlefield, looking for promising young flowers. The [5000-man commander] and [Generals] of tomorrow. Those with subtle skills, those quietly slipping under the attention of the rest of the army.

Not the brass-plated woman breathing a cone of Lava in front of her, decimating her opponents. Not the bronze man wielding a scythe. Not the [Beast Tamer]. The megatherium was coated in iron plates, and carving a slow but steady line through the center of the battlefield. The dullahan clad in copper, standing near the back lines with an absurd fishing pole might be worth a mention. The man was casting his line, artfully snagging the occasional head left behind, then reeling it screaming back to where he and his friends quickly smashed it to death, before casting out again.

It was worth seeing if he could get some merits for reporting it.

Qiao Zhi turned to Huang Ling, cupped his hands, and bowed. The decision saved his life, as a whirling blade of all edges and no handle went buzzing through where his chest had just been.

Everyone took potshots at the command post. Any person slain there, from the grand [Tactician] or [Strategist] overseeing the battle, to the smallest [Banner Carrier] or [Messenger] was impactful.

The near miss didn’t faze Zhi in the slightest. The heavens were with him. He’d have his revenge against his good-for-nothing father.

“Esteemed [Tactician], this one has a small matter to report, one which I believe you have already seen but I would be remiss in failing to mention.” Zhi half-shouted each word, enunciating clearly to be heard over the din of battle.

Huang Ling glanced down at the bowing dullahan, his silver armor under flowing robes marking him as a member of the Scholar class. He gestured his commands, and the banners shifted their signals. The troops started to slowly shift and move around in accordance with the new orders, and Pang Nuan, along with his elite cavalry force, began to carve a route through Biao Gong’s troops, intent on plucking the latest flower he’d identified.

“Speak.” Ling commanded. Zhi remained bowing, his hands cupped in front of him.

“The [Fisher of Men] located in the rear lines appears unusually competent, and his style is promising to rapidly gain many levels.” He reported.

“I am aware.” Ling coldly informed the upstart, refocusing on the battle. The observation was valid, but so obvious as to be nearly useless.

The [Observer] bowed deeply and returned to his tasks, the man’s mouth moving as he shouted to the troops while scanning the field.

The [Tactician] briefly reconsidered his words. Qiao Zhi was new enough to the observer role that he should be encouraged when possible, and the only error was in the obviousness of the target. Otherwise, he was entirely correct.

“The target was good. There is a plan. Continue bringing me observations like that.” Huang lied. All warfare was based on deception. In order to fool his enemies, he first must fool his allies.

There was no plan for the [Fisher of Men]. He was too well ensconced in the back of the army, and barring a lucky shot, they would not get him.

Pang Nuan had a plan, a sure-fire way to win the war. In his boundless wisdom, he knew the war would not be short. It would not be won in a single decisive engagement. It would not be won this year.

It would not be won this decade.

His plan?

Lose the battle to win the war. Sacrifice the battle to identify and ‘pluck the delicate blooming flowers’. In a decade, the Chu would wake up one day and find that they had no Talents. No powerful ironclad warriors to take the field, none who could stand in the way of the Yan’s next generation.

Pang Nuan wouldn’t be alive to see the day. Such forward thinking, such dedication to the task and war, such nobility of purpose, almost brought a tear to Huang Ling’s eye.

Qiao Zhi got to his tasks with vigor after being harshly scolded by Huang Ling. They could not afford for a dullahan to only have a single task. Each member of the Yan army had multiple roles, multiple tasks they could fill. Those fighting had two fighting classes. Those at the command post had two different jobs, ones carefully selected that could be done at the same time. Be on guard and raise banners in communication. Be ready to run messages and bathe the area in Radiance, stopping illusions from trying to misdirect the leaders. Observe the battlefield and be the [Speaker of Truth - Sound].

Qiao Zhi did not need to use his mouth to watch the battlefield. Instead, he used it to motivate the nearby troops, reminding them why they were fighting. Spreading the unspeakable truth of the vile Chu.

“The Chu are less than filthy pigs! Rabid dogs have more value than a single hair on their head! They are a vile pest, one that must be exterminated with vigor, for the good of all! They are dirty, savage and uncivilized! They live in mud and squalor! They take the land that is rightfully ours! They can not be trusted, their every breath a malignant lie! The only good Chu is a dead Chu! Their whores are diseased! Their very bodies will corrupt and corrode our noble and pure Yan! Like a parasite, they must be excised!”

As Zhi was extolling the troops, a large, armor-clad wyvern landed on the treacherous cliff bordering the battlefield. For reasons he did not fully understand or need to know, the two sides weren’t fighting over the ridge that would give unparalleled access to the battlefield. His lips curled up in distaste as he saw who hopped down from the beast.

A Valkyrie. One of the meddlesome warriors who kept sticking their nose where it didn’t belong. Lin Lei had been brutally slain by one while on a simple foraging mission. If he somehow survived getting his father killed, his next goal was to hunt down each and every one of the women. He’d slowly make them suffer before releasing them to Thanatos.

A cold shiver went down his spine as he checked on her level.

[Warrior - 530].

Pang Nuan would be able to fight her, he was sure, but nobody else in the army was capable.

Zhi turned away. Not his job, not today. All he could hope for was Huang Ling deciding to get rid of one of the meddlers when she was neatly in massed crossbow range.

Also, that was one big wyvern…

Zhi continued to shout encouragements at the troops, hoping against hope that some of his words would reach the Valkyrie, she’d see the error of her ways, and die fighting the foul Chu. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d set two of his enemies against each other, wouldn’t be the last.

Zhi got back to scanning the field, and his eyes narrowed as he started to notice a pattern. His [Heaven’s Eyes] helped him see that which was hidden, helping spot anomalies. In one spot the mighty Yan were being laid low by base Chu treachery, their valiant soldiers stumbling a moment before being cut down. His gaze sharpened on the area, the truth revealed to him.

Small vines were quietly emerging from the ground, wrapping around an ankle and causing people to stumble before quickly retreating underground. A common strategy.

What was uncommon was how well it was working, and Zhi forced himself to carefully look at the disgusting Chu, attempting to best identify who was causing the issue. It was rare, but not unheard of, for people to deliberately offset the center of their effect, and… ahha! One particular 5-man squad was being a little too protective of an iron-member in the center of their squad, who kept subtly twitching her fingers. Even as Zhi watched she gained two more levels, and shrugged off a crossbow bolt to the shoulder.

He whirled to Huang Ling, cupped his hands together and bowed.

“Qiao Zhi reporting!” He shouted again.

“Speak!” Huang commanded. Zhi rapidly detailed who’d he’d seen and where. Huang smiled.

“Most excellent! Scribes! Mark three more merits for Qiao Zhi!” He commanded, before giving out a series of orders. Banners were moved, and the entire army shifted.

Qiao Zhi felt the intoxicating thrill of power. He had caused this. His words had made the entire army shift, and now Pang Nuan was off to pluck another delicate flower, and trample her into the dirt where she belonged.

Qiao Zhi imagined executing his father would feel the same way. The same feeling of power. The same intoxicating rush.

His family - his true family - were brass, marked as members of the artisan class. Life was going well until a passing court official had taken notice of his mother, and demanded a night of entertainment. Qiao Zhi appearing four months later, clad in silver instead of brass, had torn his family apart. An appeal to the court official had ended with a hefty fine for his family daring to slander the official’s good name.

His siblings had resented him, marked as an outsider, marked as different. Marked as the one who’d destroyed their family. Zhi was eight when his mother couldn’t take it anymore, and the only small blessing in life was that he was marked as silver, as a scholar.

It wouldn’t do for a scholar to be toiling in the fields, no.

He’d gotten his chance. His chance to learn letters and numbers, and a path forward.

Anyone, copper to brass, bronze to silver, could join the ironclad ranks of the army. Obtain merits. Kill his worthless father, who’d destroyed his family. Bring his lifeless head to his siblings and true dad.

Place it on his mother’s grave, so she would know she’d been avenged beyond the grave.

The praise, the merits, the intoxicating thrill of power pushed Zhi to new heights, to new efforts. He scanned the battlefield twice as fast, shouted invectives against the Chu twice as hard. He spotted another subtle effect, one that was actively hindering the [Great Generals] progress.

People on the left side of the battlefield weren’t dying easily. Most dullahans, as part of their very nature, could survive being decapitated. Every one was born in armor, and even the most meager of bronze farmers died hard.

But people just weren’t dying. Only the most blatantly destructive of injuries were causing a death. Qiao Zhi witnessed a spear being elegantly thrust through a Chu’s heart, only for the man to strike an underhand blow back instead of collapsing.

Oddly, the Yan soldier also survived the blow, and the two were pummeling each other to no effect. Zhi noticed the effect wasn’t localized. The vine-tripper’s efforts to trip the [Great General’s] horse was completely in vain. She tried to dive out of the way of the general and his personal guard. Pang Nuan used his mighty sword to cleave the woman in half, with the rest of the horses trampling over her as he finished his strike.

She got up again, along with the rest of her five-man squad. On the other side of the battlefield, Biao Gong was carving through softer troops, making his way to the command post. Huang Ling whirled on Qiao Zhi in a fury.

“Explain!” He ordered, drawing his sword and putting it on Qiao Zhi’s throat.

Zhi started to sweat. He didn’t have a Spatial element, he couldn’t survive his head being taken off like so many other dullahans could. He frantically scanned the battlefield, getting a quick idea of the radius of the healing effect, and immediately finding the center.

Amazing what one could do with a sword against the neck. He squinted, bringing the full strength of his [Heaven’s Eye] to bear, and pointed with a shout.

“There! Next to the Valkyrie! There’s an invisible [Healer]!”

“Two demerits for Qiao Zhi!” Huang Ling shouted, sheathing his sword and giving out another set of orders.

The [Great General] and his entire escort began charging towards the cliff.