The room was dead silent. Elder Rui was content to let them process his words. It had been a lot. Eventually, Tian stood, bowed with clasped hands and asked “Elder Rui, if I may be so bold as to ask, why the… why are we fighting this war? What exactly do the heretics want?”

He was slightly desperate to know at this point. The semi-regular motivational speeches were long on all the terrible things the heretics would do if they won, but the motives were never really explained beyond “This is how heretics are.” But it was the crux of everything. If they needed to win the future, they needed to know why they were losing now.

“Interesting.” Elder Rui gave Tian an appraising look. “You are quite right in your implication. The information has been deliberately suppressed. The elders didn’t lie, of course, because most orthodox cultivators don’t require much more explanation than ‘The murderous bastards are coming for us!’”

Tian nodded. That did seem like a reasonably comprehensive explanation.

“Strange how, despite orthodox sects seemingly having every logistical and strategic advantage worth mentioning, we are outnumbered and being outfought, isn’t it?”

Tian nodded again. Elder Rui’s face twisted into a sort-of smile.

“I can’t tell you. I don’t have permission, and I can’t blatantly ignore the Monastery’s orders. What I can tell you is that your trip will provide ample opportunity for you to figure it out yourselves. Unsatisfying, I know, but it’s the best you are going to get. Any other questions?”

Tian was sure everyone else had lots of questions, because he had them by the bucketful. But they all recognised the Elder’s tone, so they shook their heads.

“Good. Pack what you think you will need, but you will be traveling through friendly territory for most of this trip. You will have ample opportunity to resupply, and meals will be provided. You leave tomorrow. Assemble at the main gate immediately after breakfast. Dismissed.”

Hong and Tian made their way back to the barracks together. Packing would take no time at all, but their goodbyes would. As would informing their superiors about why they wouldn’t be reporting for duty.

“Sister Hong… may I call you Sister Liren?”

She stumbled for a moment, but came up with an odd smile. “If I can call you Brother Zihao.”

“I would like it if you did. I have a shameful secret, Sister Liren.”

“Only one, Brother Zihao?”

“Only one relevant one. I don’t have the faintest idea what kind of new option I could offer the sect. I don’t even have an idea about how to get an idea.”

“Oh. Easily solved.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Wear your shame openly, and it is no longer a secret. All the guilt over hiding your incompetence will just float away.”

“Thank you, Sister Liren. I learn so much from my juniors. I assume you already know exactly what kind of sect-saving insight you will be presenting.”

“Some minor details are still being perfected, Junior Brother Zihao.” She looked demure. “So far I’m up to ‘Let me personally kick the intestines out of my ever-growing list of scumbags.’ But that’s not a sect-wide solution. I can’t be everywhere all at once.”

“Difficult. Do you think the monastery has a long distance disembowelment art that would compensate for that? Or maybe a puppet art or something?”

“Well, that’s why we are going on this trip.” Hong nodded sagely. “Solving the ‘how,’ not just finding the ‘what.’”

Tian nodded, looking serious and a touch serene.

“Did you have a load of people asking you nosy questions about your life recently?” He asked.

“Yes.” Her eyes got tight. Hong suddenly looked a lot less demure. “I didn’t hit any of them.”

“Me either. But they did help confirm something I already knew.”

She stopped and looked at him. Tian saw the same hell in her eyes that he knew were hidden in his.

“Yeah. It would be nice if we weren’t keeping pace with each other, Brother Zihao.”

They gathered at the gate after breakfast. The red sands and jagged rocks outside the base were well trodden by now. The ground was still torn up after the battle, but the desert was quickly erasing the evidence. Enormous tears in the ground were being filled by blown sand. The scorch marks and acid burns were already buried. The poisonous qi and inescapable rock dust remained.

Tian took a proper look at his new companions. Sister Su… he never had learned her personal name, just her family name. She rolled along in a rattan wheelchair, looking indifferent about the inconvenience. There were handles in the back for pushing, but some inconsiderate sod had wrapped them in thorn vines. She moved the chair along by pushing on the oversized wheels.

Sister Su cropped her hair nearly down to the scalp, like every woman in the Sect. She had opted not to shave any pictures or patterns into it. Perhaps she felt that unadorned was optimal. Thin fingers but thick wrists, Tian noticed. He wondered how you had to train to develop like that. Her robes were tidy, but it was a routine sort of cleanliness, not making a show of looking her best. The intense look in her eyes had only deepened since he first met her.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

She still gave him the feeling of a kindred spirit. He could smell it on her. The wasteland had damaged her in more ways than just the physical. Tian silently laughed at himself. For once, he was more vain than his sect siblings. He had put on his freshest, most creaseless robes and fixed his hair up just so. How often had his brothers preached the necessity of a good first impression? He wasn’t going to screw up something so obvious. Unlike Brother Wang.

Brother Wang clearly didn’t give a damn about first impressions. At all. His hair was in the sloppiest bun Tian had ever seen. His robes were tied properly, but the belt was flopping around haphazardly and it looked like he had slept in them. Worse, they were covered in dust, and dirt was caked onto his shoes and socks. Brother Wang technically met the uniform requirements of the sect, but only technically. If he had tried that look in West Town, one of the senior brothers would have ‘counseled’ him into a hole in the ground.

He was very clean personally, though. Tian could faintly smell scented soap. The longer Tian looked at him, the less things added up. He was fat. Comically fat for a cultivator. His face was moon-round and plump as a steamed bun. But his physique was solid. He stood with his feet planted shoulder width apart and his shoulders back, ready to meet the world eye to eye. His hands were thick and callused. That was another thing you didn’t often see on cultivators, even those who lived with weapons in their hands. His eyes were wide open. Not squinted with cunning or dull with sloth. There was a brain in that fat head, and while his eyes didn’t give away much, Tian could feel it working quickly to evaluate him.

Tian wondered what he saw. He wondered if Brother Wang was as broken by the war as the rest of them. He probably was. Why else would he be on this trip? And how else could he have wound up in the cells? Tian knew the violent impulses that sometimes descended on people damaged by the war. He felt them often enough. If it wasn’t for Brother Su’s good advice, Tian would have gotten to know the jail cells too.

He looked back over the red sands. He would be very content to never return.

They were carried up to Elder Feng’s sky barge on a floating cloud. It was a bit surreal stepping onto the soft, almost springy cloud, but it was remarkably comfortable underfoot. Nevertheless, Tian resolved to avoid them where possible in the future. It was a cloud. Something famous for lacking substance and being changeable. Not things he liked a thousand feet in the air.

Elder Redmane, in his opinion, was infinitely better. If you couldn’t trust a crane taller than most trees, who could you trust?

Tian wasn’t sure what to expect from a sky barge. For some reason, he thought it would be about the size of the riverboats that traveled up and down the river near West Town Temple. Summer Torrent, the enormous sky barge that carried the whole sect to war was an oversized model. The rest were supposedly pleasure craft for elder-level figures.

“I may have severely underestimated just how rich these Elders actually are. Either that, or Sky Barges are cheap as hell.” He thought.

Elder Feng’s sky barge was, in fact, a barge. One that was almost half the size of West Town Temple. Its base was flat and rectangular, made from some dark wood covered in formations and glowing spell lines. On top of the barge was an elegant three story manor, a garden with a gazebo, and a rather perfunctory pond. It all looked charming, in a “We are two thousand feet in the air, this is insane, INSANE!” kind of way.

The garden, he noticed, was very well maintained. The trees and plants were in roaring health. That was interesting in a suspicious sort of way. He drummed his fingers on his leg as the cloud stopped its loop around the barge and landed on a little receiving pad next to the garden. Then, to Tian’s sudden vertigo, the cloud spun into a dense plume of vapor and funneled into a jar near the edge of the barge. The passengers were left neatly stranded on the platform.

There was clearly a lot going on that Tian wasn’t seeing. This was probably a good thing. What he was seeing was scary enough. And strange enough. They were greeted by two fellow disciples, one of whom he thought he recognized.

“Welcome, everyone.” The stranger clasped his hands and politely bowed. “This one is surnamed Pan. You can simply refer to me as Steward Pan, as I serve Elder Feng in that capacity here on the Windblown Manor. I am here to guide you to your quarters and to introduce the Manor to you before you meet with the Elder.”

They bowed politely back to Steward Pan, murmuring their appreciation. He was a dull looking man, Level Ten and reeking of contentment with his lot. Tian rather imagined he was quite dutiful. He had that sort of face.

“The Heretic, the Psychopath, The Grotesque and the Necrophiliac. What a fine collection of emissaries you all make.” The disciple standing next to Steward Pan spoke. She had a wide eyed fragility to her when her mouth was shut. When she opened her mouth, those eyes narrowed. Presumably to keep the spraying venom out.

Tian could feel the others tensing up. Hong directly summoned her spear, clearly not interested in verbal sparring.

“Sister Liren, please remind me- is this the nameless failure from our last expedition?” Tian’s voice was so mild it snapped every eye to him. He wasn’t quite sure what ‘boggling’ meant, but he had read the word once and thought their faces fit it.

“Well. Yes.” Hong nodded.

“I have a name, freak.” The wide eyed girl hissed. “And I didn’t fail.”

“Do you? You never said. I assumed you were hiding it after failing to pass the trial. Are you trying to avoid shaming your family? That’s very decent of you.” Tian’s question sounded utterly innocent. Worse, everyone could see he was completely sincere.

“I. You. You DARE!”

“I usually do, yes, but I don’t know what I am daring right now. Please, Shameful Failure, would you kindly enlighten this little daoist about what he is daring?” Tian clasped his hand together and slightly bowed his head.

He genuinely didn’t know. They could all tell. He really did not know. Or care.

“Dare you stake your life in a life and death bout, Necrophiliac?!”

“With you? Certainly. Though I really don’t know what you mean by necrophiliac.” Tian shrugged. She had two levels on him. It didn’t matter. After the last battle, he was certain the biggest hazard she would pose was her blood staining his nicest robe. He knew it like he knew which way was “down.” And if she wasn’t a rock thrower, he didn’t know who was.

“Do you deny what you said leaving the cavern? Before two Elders, no less?” She pounced, as though he had made some kind of error.

“Why would I deny that?” Tian blinked at her in confusion. “By the way, is there a special dueling ground or something? It would be very rude to damage the Elders’ garden. Though I suppose we could trouble Steward Pan for… maybe a large canvas tarp or something, lay it on the ground, and if you promise not to, you know, void yourself or bleed everywhere, and die with minimal thrashing, maybe we could manage something in the gazebo?”

“I’m afraid not, Junior Brother Tian. There is a stone table and some antique ceramic stools in the gazebo, and the gazebo itself is millenia old Blue Heart Phoebe wood. Quite valuable.” Steward Pan interjected.

“Oh, thank you, Steward.” Tian bowed in gratitude. “Well. No matter. We can do it on this platform. It seems easily scrubbed. I speak with some authority on the subject. I have even brought my own mop, bucket, soap and water. Come, Failure. I will make it as painless as possible. Then you can reincarnate as someone competent. Won’t that be nice?”