Savage Divinity

Chapter 367

Sequestered within his Natal Palace, Goujian immersed himself in study and contemplation of the Truth. So simple, yet too profound, the Truth was a self-evident principle of life so obvious he wondered how he never saw it before now. Balance and Imbalance, Untainted and Defiled, all lies spread by the self-styled Emperors of humankind. So many lies used to complicate and confuse, hiding the Truth beneath a thin veneer of so-called ‘facts’ and ‘evidence’. Insight, Enlightenment, Awakening, and Inspiration were chief among their lies, four separate terms for what amounted to a single, all-encompassing process.

Goujian called it Heaven’s Impartation, a process he experienced as he travelled away from Nan Ping to escape the Monk’s wrath.

Though his physical body lay in the cramped confines of a hidden compartment aboard a smuggler’s ship, Goujian’s mind sat submerged within a sea of infinite knowledge. A thousand voices spoke at once, conveying so much information he could barely process even a ten-thousandth of its bounty and retained far less, but even these tiny crumbs were enough for him to take great strides along the Martial Path and break through the limits of mortality. Small wonder the Monk never aged a day in sixty years of life, for he Rejuvenated himself using the Energy of the Heavens. Not Healing using Chi, but a renewal with pure, unaltered Heavenly Energy, replacing parts of his body bit by bit like pieces on a ship until nothing of the original remained. He imagined it was akin to how an Ancestral Beast first formed its human body, though he couldn’t know for sure. A slow and gradual process, were Goujian to look into the mirror, he would look unchanged and would remain so for months to come, but already his stiff joints and aching bones had faded away, his body healthier and hardier than ever.

This was the first Truth he’d touched upon, the secret to longevity and possibly even Immortality, yet he sensed even greater Truths hidden away, gated behind comprehension he had yet to acquire. What other miracles could Heavenly Energy be used for? From where did this knowledge come from? It could be the collective wisdom of all of humanity, or perhaps he’d touched the mind of a sleeping god, but whatever it was, Goujian knew the Imperial Clan had done everything they could to keep it for themselves.

And for this gravest of sins, they must pay.

“Master, the arrangements have been made and night is upon us. Our contact awaits.”

So soon? “How long have we been travelling for?”

“It’s been nine days since we left Nan Ping, Master.”

Nine days spent ruminating on the Truth, yet for Goujian, it felt like mere minutes since he closed his eyes. Opening his eyes, he found his eldest disciple standing over him with with a pensive look in his eyes. Having raised him from young, Goujian could tell Wen Zhong was displeased by his instructions. The boy had always been a free thinker and never shied from questioning his Master’s decisions, a habit Goujian had always encouraged despite the headaches which so frequently came with it. “None of your brooding looks boy,” he Sent, ignoring how this ‘boy’ was an aged man of fifty-five years with tired lines around his eyes and a wisps of grey in his beard. “You’ve never been one to hold your tongue, so why start now?”

Reaching down to help his Master out of the compartment, Wen Zhong stayed on his knees and asked, “Master, will you not rethink your decision? There will be no turning back once this is done.”

Legs still dangling inside the hidey hole, Goujian’s chest tightened upon hearing his Disciple’s doubts. Pulling the boy into an embrace, he held him tight in an unfamiliar gesture of affection. “Master has failed you,” he said, his voice hoarse from days spent in silence. “I once believed our cause moral and our purpose just, but I was wrong. I see this now, and I beg forgiveness for leading you and your brothers astray. I do not blame you for your doubts, but know this: I have seen the Truth. Together, we committed all manner of atrocities in the name of peace and Balance, a lie fed to us by the Imperial Clan so they could keep the power of Heaven to themselves. They drew a line in the sand and told us everyone on the other side is the Enemy, and we foolishly believed them.”

“Master...”

“Hush boy and let me say my piece.” Releasing his disciple, Goujian fell to his knees and kowtowed in apology, his head striking the wooden deck with a heavy knock. Taken by surprise, Wen Zhong released his grip on his sword and moved to stop him. Lacking the strength to push his disciple away, Goujian wheezed, “Leave me be. I’ve sinned greatly by killing so many Chosen of Heaven, but greater is my sin of drawing you to this false cause. I should have cut your throat as a child and spared you a life lived following me along my dark path, for then at least you could have died with a clean conscience. I have wronged you boy, and I fear nothing I do can ever fix it.”

“Our cause was moral and just,” Wen Zhong declared, refusing to let Goujian continue kowtowing. “When you found me, I was a gaunt, mutilated child lying in a carnal pit of death and depravity. You picked me out of that pit and nursed me back to health. You bandaged and fed me, washed and clothed me, all before holding me close as you brought me out to identify the Defiled bandits who raped, tortured, killed, and ate my family.” Distress etched across his aged face, Wen Zhong asked, “And now you call the Defiled the Chosen of Heaven?”

Horrified by the misconception, Goujian shook his head in vehement denial. “No, no, you mistake me boy. The Defiled are an aberration, but one I suspect of the Empire’s devising. The Defiled have their own path to strength, one which draws on base emotions such as anger, lust, and hatred. Meanwhile, the Empire touts Balance and Purity as the one true path, a repression of all emotions down to an almost neutral end. Any who diverge from this must be Tainted and become Defiled, but why must it be one path or the other?”

Such dangerous information shouldn’t be said out loud, but Goujian yearned to scream it for all to hear, imbuing his voice with Chi just so more people would understand. “Think on it. Two diametrically opposed paths, one of moderation and the other indulgence, yet in the end, these paths share too many similarities to overlook. What can we do that the Defiled cannot replicate?” Without waiting for an answer, he pressed on, eager to assuage his eldest disciple’s doubts. “I now see that true power lies not in Balance or Imbalance, but, strange as it may sound, in both.”

Wen Zhong’s lack of comprehension grated on Goujian’s nerves, but he pressed on with his explanation, knowing his eldest disciple was not a foolish man, merely a stubborn one. “You see, the Imperials feed us a grain of truth all to better hide their lies. The difference between medicine and poison is often merely a matter of dosage, and such is the case with Heavenly Energy. Where the Defiled take too much and lose themselves to emotion, we are taught to take too little by closing our emotions off and converting Heavenly Energy into Chi. Balance, true Balance is not about control of one’s emotions, but surrender to them. Embrace love and joy, give in to anger and hatred, for only then can one be wholly in tune with nature and command the Energy of the Heavens.” Scoffing, he added, “It would not surprise me to learn the Defiled are another Imperial creation, made to keep us from rising up to challenge their might.”

His piece said, he panted and wheezed while watching for Wen Zhong’s reaction, hoping the boy he saw as his son would not reject the Truth. Once he accepted it for fact, then they could fix this broken Empire together, Master and Disciple working side by side once more. How long had it been since they joined hands? Fifteen years? Twenty? That gaunt, mutilated child had grown splendidly under Goujian’s tutelage, a remarkable swordsman and brilliant interrogator, a man who oversaw dozens if not hundreds of Purges without supervision, Goujian’s equal or superior in most ways save for his complete and utter lack of diplomacy.

It would be a grand undertaking bringing the Imperial Clan to justice for their crimes against humanity. Throughout the millennia, how much suffering and despair could be laid at their feet? Even with all his newfound comprehension, Goujian couldn’t begin to fathom the extent of the atrocities they’d set into motion. A greedy and selfish bunch, they spread their lies to keep power for themselves instead of bettering humankind as a whole, actively working to perpetuate the divide between Imperial and Commoner because they believed they were better than the rest of humanity due solely to the circumstances of their birth.

Because of their lies, Goujian dedicated his entire life to eradicating the ‘Tainted’, stained his hands with the blood and suffering of countless innocents and Chosen all in the name of Peace and Balance. They deceived him with their false doctrine, used his piety to turn him to their cause, and laughed at his gullibility and foolishness while he committed grievous crimes in their name. More than a waste of life, it was a crime against humanity itself, and he would not rest until the Imperial Clan paid for their foul deception. They were a cancer upon the world, and as with any cancer, it must be excised, no matter the cost.

But even with an eternity to prepare, Goujian could not do it alone.

Disappointingly, despite all of Goujian’s efforts, Wen Zhong neither agreed nor disagreed with Goujian’s conclusions, merely kneeling in silence with that same pensive, disapproving look. Annoyed by the silence, he sighed and said, “You doubt me, and for this I cannot fault you, for I have lead you astray before. If you believe differently, then speak. Explain the trickster Monk’s ‘Defiled’ Aura and the current events surrounding Falling Rain. We were lied to boy, our lives wasted in dedication to maintaining a fiendish deception, one I can not allow to continue.”

Shaking his head, Wen Zhong replied, “This one has no explanation to submit, but...”

Annoyed by his hesitation, Goujian snapped, “Enough. Just spit it out. I know what you’re thinking. That I’ve been out of sorts since BoLao’s death and now I’ve finally become unhinged and fallen for the Father’s whispered lies.” Closing his eyes, he held his arms open and left himself utterly defenceless. “If you believe so, then do as I taught you and strike me down. Better I die now than turn Defiled.”

For long seconds, Goujian awaited death, trusting his eldest disciple’s judgment above all else. If Wen Zhong believed the Confessor had fallen off the correct path, then death was the correct option. Though the Imperial Clan had much to answer for, the Defiled were still a monstrous and unforgivable bunch. He would not allow himself to become one of those raving madmen who subsisted on flesh and violence, for though the path behind him lay covered in the bodies of the innocent, his crimes were done in duty to a lie, a lie perpetrated by the Imperial Clan. Though complicit in their crimes, he was merely a tool crafted for their needs. When all this was over, he would find a nice, quiet place and end his life to atone for his sins, but not before the last remaining Imperial Scion lay dead at his feet.

“I do not believe you have fallen, Master.” Opening his eyes once more, he found Wen Zhong standing above him now, hands clasped and bowed at the waist. Unable to look him in the eye, the boy added, “But I still believe your decision is wrong. This is too much, and we will not stand by and watch you make this mistake.”

The doors to the ship’s hold opened and Goujian’s remaining Disciples filed in, Sochun, Sun-Sin, Mapan, and Yuanyin. For the first time ever, they stood in united defiance of his authority, five young men he’d taken under his wing and treated like sons. Drawing their weapons, they held them to their own throats as a show of determination, ready to take their own lives at an instant’s notice.

No, not all of them, Yuanyin stood with arms crossed, his weapon not even on his belt at a show of protest. Good child. An obedient soldier, but not someone accustomed contemplative thought. Goujian once called him a blunt instrument masquerading as a sharpened scalpel, but to eradicate the deep-rooted corruption in the Empire, a scalpel would not be enough, else he wouldn’t need to go to such great lengths. No, only a complete Purge through fire and steel would do, and nothing less.

From their display, it seemed like Goujian’s Disciples disagreed. Seeing how far they were willing to go to stop him, he spread his arms in helpless abandon. “Then what would you have me do, wayward children of mine? Wallow in despair for a life given to a lie? Turn a blind eye to the anguish and misery of our fellow man, anguish and misery which I helped perpetuate? What else can I do but fight this? The Empire is too strong, too powerful to defeat alone, so I have no other choice! Why can’t you see this?”josei

A trickle of blood already making its way down his blade, Sochun answered, “The worst decisions are often rooted in emotion and impatience.”

“Using my own words against me now?”

“Our cause might have been misguided, but your wisdom is still sound, as are the skills you taught us.” This time it was Sun-Sin, the southern wild child he’d once almost mistaken for Defiled. “Master, take a step back and think things through. This arrow, once loosed, cannot be returned to the hand.” A butchered idiom, but such things were common with Sun-Sin. He had a unique way of looking at problems, which in part was what made him an effective inquisitor.

Emotional as always, tears ran down chubby Mapan’s cheeks as he implored, “Why must this be the only option? Master, this one fears your decision was made in haste, your judgment compromised by grief and anger. We all loved sister BoLao for she brought joy and beauty into our otherwise gloomy lives. Brief as our time together might have been, we all mourn her loss with you, but I’d rather you ordered us to storm the Bekhai camp and bring her killer to justice than for you to commit yourself to this folly.”

Affected by Mapan’s heartfelt plea, Goujian allowed himself to cry for the first time in memory, a luxury he never allowed himself, not even after BoLao’s death. Gesturing for his Disciples to lower their weapons, he urged them close for a hug. “Though not the blood of my blood,” he began, looking at each one in turn and memorizing their smiling faces, “I see you all as my sons and love you more than any father ever could.” Taking a deep breath, he wiped his eyes and continued, “But even so, four lives are a small price to pay to save countless more.”

Striking as the shock registered on their faces, Goujian killed the sentimental Mapan first with a blow to the throat, sparing the poor boy the sorrow of seeing his brothers die before him. Sun-Sin died next, too slow to react as a hooked sword burst through his chest and into Goujian’s hand, summoned there through Chi. Though inferior to the Energy of the Heavens, he had a mere nine days to study its use, but he’d spent a lifetime mastering Chi. To make matters more difficult, he had not raised his sons as defenceless lambs to be slaughtered. The instinct to live overriding their determination to die, Wen Zhong and Sochun struck out in self-defence, one aiming high while the other low, their movements meshing together in flawless perfection to take his life, exactly as he’d taught them.

Strange as it might sound, this was the proudest moment in Goujian’s life. He’d trained them to believe in their intuition no matter what others might say and always come to an answer through logic and reasoning. Even though he, their Master and father figure, gave them a direct order, they still had the presence of mind to ask, ‘Why?’ and reached their own conclusion. A splendid bunch who would have served the Empire well after his Death.

A shame it was that same Empire Goujian now sought to destroy. In a way, this was his fault for having raised his sons too well, so the least he could do was give them a warrior's death.

Pressed back by their relentless assault, he retreated step by precious step, knowing full well the ship’s confines were ill-suited for his fight. Worse, he’d spent nine days immersed in cultivation and was sorely lacking in sustenance, ironically surviving only because his Disciples had cared for him. Perhaps earlier today, one of them had spoon-fed him gruel and water, yet here they were, fighting desperately to kill the man who raised them.

Trials and tribulations indeed.

Catching Sochun’s blade with his hooked sword, Goujian moved his second disciple to block the path of his eldest. Never one to hesitate, Wen Zhong stabbed through his Junior Brother’s arm in a desperate attempt to take his Master’s life, knowing the odds no longer lay in their favour. Sadly, brilliant as Wen Zhong was, no one understood him more than his Master. Cleanly dodging the thrust, Goujian released Sochun’s blade with a flick of his wrist, and with a single, horizontal slash, took the lives of both his Disciples. Panting with exertion, he checked them both and saw that he’d been mistaken. Wen Zhong still clung to life, having avoided instant death by the barest of margins. Taking a seat beside his eldest disciple’s fallen body, he cradled the boy’s head and held him close, watching as the blood flowed out of Wen Zhong’s neck and the light faded from his eyes. His chest swelling with pride and heart heavy with grief, Goujian noted all his conflicting emotions, believing it would serve him well to study them. He would need strength to face his Imperial foes, and his greatest allies now lay dead at his feet.

Well, not all of them. Once Wen Zhong was dead and gone, Goujian glanced and nodded at his sole surviving disciple. “Come. We’ve kept our guests waiting long enough.”

“What of the bodies?” Yuanyin asked, though he still followed closely on Goujian’s heels.

“Leave them for the ship’s captain. He’ll know what to do.” As much as he’d like to leave their corpses intact, he couldn’t afford to leave a trail for the Monk to follow.

Cloaking his presence to escape notice from the dock guards, Goujian brought Yuanyin off the ship and out into the wilderness, travelling a short distance west before he finally found his bearings. By the time they reached the meeting area, he was what most nobles would call fashionably late. “I apologize for the delay,” he said, greeting his guests with a clasped fist, only then noticing his sleeves were soaked in blood. Well, no matter. Not like these particular guests would mind. “You must be Mao Jianghong. Your infamy precedes you.”

His guest grinned lazily in reply, a handsome man who looked no different from any other noble of the Empire. “That means much coming from the Confessor. I must admit, I’m curious why a man with your reputation wanted a meeting with a known traitor of the Empire, or how you even knew I was here.” Goujian glanced at the young man beside Jianghong, but the former Guard Captain of Sanshu waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. Gen here is trustworthy, you may speak freely.”

“Very well.” Clearing his throat, Goujian found his next sentence more difficult to utter than he'd expected. “I seek an alliance with your faction to overthrow the Emperor.”

As Sun-Sin would say, the arrow had been loosed.

Laughing in derision, Jianghong shook his head and asked, “Surprising, and not at all what I expected. Your motivations aside, I must ask, what makes you think we even need you? Our strength is greater than you could ever imagine.”

“Let him help,” Gen said, nodding in approval. “He’s like us. He’s seen the Truth.”

Thank the Heavens. Goujian had guessed correctly. These two weren’t Defiled.

They were Chosen, just like him.

Chapter Meme