They took an hour to collect themselves. There was nothing worth looting from the battlefield. The reason there were so many horrors, according to daoist Mei, was that they were bred by the Five Elements Courtyard. They only lived for about a year, and for most of that year, they were quite helpful to the forest. They ate mostly dead wood and fallen leaves, and their excrement was astonishingly nourishing for all sorts of useful plants and trees. It was only when they approached breeding season that they became ferocious and attacked indiscriminately.
By no coincidence whatsoever, it was mating season. The bile spitting was something new, however. Some mutation in the breed.
“It’s why Doughy was unable to respond well. He expected you to show off before breaking, but the destruction of the first array was not expected, and I don’t think anyone imagined you would be insa-daring enough to call the whole forest down on your head.” Mei shook her head. She had switched from wine to water, but she was still gulping it down. She was adding some kind of powder to it. It didn’t smell poisonous. Medicine for her meridians, perhaps.
“You are calling him Doughy too?” Hong asked.
“They are just Oily and Doughy now, the Fried Dough Daoists forever. You certainly cooked them enough!” She giggled, covering her mouth with dainty fingers. “Those black and white tokens are proof of membership in a Manor, and the life saving favor of a senior. No token? No membership, and they have used up all their favor. Even if their uncle or patron is an Elder.”
“No second chances?” Brother Wang asked.
Mei just giggled again, and didn’t answer. Tian understood. There might be a way around it, in some circumstances. But to be out maneuvered and out played by someone they looked down on as a brute? To have it happen in front of elders from inside and outside the sect? Their patrons couldn’t wash their hands of these embarrassments fast enough.
“So the horrors are just bred to nourish the forest?” Tian asked.
“No way! Once the goopy bits are gone, the shells are cooked and smushed and all kinds of other stuff to make a suuuuper useful ink. We use it all the time in our basic talismans. Once mating season is over, servants will come and collect the shells. Cheap and cheerful, like me!” She poked her cheek with a finger and tilted her head.
Her voice had shifted up half a register in the space of just a few sentences. The inflections she was putting on her words had changed back to their normal pattern too. The shock of the battle was wearing off quite quickly. Tian silently marked it down, but didn’t mention it.
Once they were rested, they set off through the partially destroyed forest towards the Temple. The first half mile was unpleasant. Whatever the yin-yang attack was, it reduced the forest to quite fine dust. They had to use a light body art to walk over it, and they all quickly covered their heads in the wraps they brought from the desert. Nobody wanted to risk breathing in the dust.
Daoist Mei got a head wrap from Brother Wang after a little pouting. Sister Su gave him a death glare, clearly upset that he was aiding the enemy.
The jungle was eerily quiet. The crane had pulled in as many horrors as it could between them and the temple. The surviving horrors ran off after the explosion. Any other animals ran away from the horrors. Once they were out of the dust, it was a bare hundred miles to the temple. No distance at all for cultivators or spiritual animals.
The temple, according to the stone sign grown over with moss, was dedicated to War King Cho. A stele, once Tian pulled away the vines, revealed that “For forty years, faithfully led the armies of the Black North Division, securing the North East against… why is this bit carved out?” Tian asked.
“Hmm?” Mei tilted her head to the side, blinking her wide eyes.
“All the references to who he was fighting, and who he was fighting for, have been destroyed.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. I dunno.” She shrugged, then ran over and hugged Brother Wang’s arm. “I’m scared of going through a ruined temple! There might be ghosts and spiders and centipedes! Nobody’s playing games now other than me and you, so you will look after me right?”
Tian shook his head and decisively walked away. They were here to clear out the temple, but based on how the elders liked to handle things, there was probably some kind of benefit hidden in here. His orders were to run off with all the benefits he could. Watching those two act like fools would only be a loss.
The temple was beautiful. Moss grew over the broken stone walls. Most of the roofs had collapsed, and vines were prying apart the bricks. Trees grew up in what were once broad paths, and ornamental ponds were reduced to swampy holes. Here and there were plinths, the statues they once held long since removed or destroyed. Only the main hall remained intact.
Nine steps up, Tian noticed, and nine tall columns holding up the roof over the massive bronze covered doors. Furious looking deities, or perhaps they were demons, were carved on the door. Each carried strange weapons, whose purpose Tian couldn’t deduce. He pushed the doors. It took some muscle, but they opened easily enough.
The inside was dry and cool, dimly lit with streams of early morning light coming through high windows. There were niches for candles, and hooks for lamps. All long gone. The statues remained.
In the center of the hall, facing the door, was War King Cho. Twenty feet tall, his robes fluttering behind him, steel armor carefully recreated in stone. His long halberd was thrust ahead, towards visitors as they entered. Surrounding him in orderly rows were clay soldiers, each taller than Tian. Some carried swords, others axes, or spears, sabers, long knives, every weapon of war was represented.
Tian smiled slightly. There was a very faint charm to them. Once, they would have been rich with the dao of the weapons they carried. He could understand the opportunity. Come in, meditate in front of the statue that best suited your martial dao. Perhaps gain some enlightenment. He carefully searched, but not a single one used a rope dart.
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Clearly, War King Cho was a bum, led a bum army, and was commemorated here as a terrible warning to future generations about his childish, foolish understanding of the best weapon ever. In fact, the whole arrangement was suspect. Swords, sabers, spears, halberds, crossbows. Only weapons. A soldier’s tools These things didn’t make someone a general, let alone a war king. Not if Tian’s books were to be believed.
Tian sat on the floor and started sorting through the piles of books he had slowly accumulated. He couldn’t remember exactly where he saw it, it was someone quoting someone else.
“Two years before the chariots move, move the silver. Six months before the horses are bridled, send forth fodder and grain. But before moving silver or rations, send forth your spies and emissaries, for with their skillful use you may triumph without moving at all.”
The quote wasn’t attributed in the book to anyone other than “The Ancients.” The author held it up as proof that the best generals relied on intelligence gathering, diplomacy and logistics more than clever tactics and subtle strategy. It made sense to Tian. Depot Four existed for exactly that reason.
Presumably anyone who got a twenty foot tall statue of themselves erected was a good enough general to know all that. It wouldn’t be easy to imbue dozens of clay statues with dao charm either. This wasn’t some mortal creation.
“Woah!”
“Decorum, Sister Liren. We are in a temple.” Tian wagged a finger at his misbehaving little sister.
“He’s a soldier, he would appreciate me appreciating his spear. Do you feel that?”
“The dao charm? Somewhat.”
“Somewhat?! My eyes are practically bleeding. Just leave me be for a bit. I need to meditate on this.”
Tian shrugged and went back to searching the room. The others came in and had similar reactions to Hong, each finding a statue they resonated with. The only exception, curiously, was Lin, despite the numerous archers amongst the statues.
Tian found what he was looking for around the back of the temple. There was a little stone hut that looked like it was used to stow brooms and shovels, and to give the servants a place to rest in the shade when they weren’t needed. Inside were clay statues of people sitting in front of Go boards, ledgers, and tables piled with sacks of grain. Some smiling, some frowning. Leaning up against the back wall was another statue. The War King again, in soft robes. Still tall, but human sized. The geometric patterns woven into the robes carefully recreated by a sculptor's chisel, as were the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, or the little smile hiding between his long mustache and longer beard.
Tian nodded. You needed both. Yin accumulation, years of preparation, for an explosion of yang brilliance. Naturally the explosion got all the attention. But the right kind of person would look past it.
He felt more of a connection with the statues here, but ultimately shook his head. These weren’t his dao. Not really. Meditating on them wouldn’t help him, and might lead him astray. He started to walk away, but hesitated. Just because there was nothing here for him didn’t make this a useless place.
His gaze lingered for a bit on the more human sized King Cho, and particularly his robes. The geometric patterns were rather familiar, but then, how distinct could they possibly-
He remembered where he had seen them before, and now he knew why the King’s background had been hidden.
He went and got Lin. “Don’t see anything that suits you, Sister Lin?”
“No. None of these are my dao. I use bows, but I don’t follow a bow dao. And I’m not interested in picking up crumbs of someone else’s insight.”
Tian smiled. “Me either. Let me show you something good.”
Tian led her around to the little shed. Lin rocked back on her heels a little, then smiled. There was an honest appreciation in that smile. Something free of the pain she hid so poorly.
“I don’t mind serving people. I like doing it, actually. It feels good to be able to do things that make other people feel good. Why else would I learn how to fluff pillows or splint a broken bone? But I won’t let people throw rocks at me for a laugh. I won’t be taken advantage of.” Tian explained, his voice soft. “Compassion for others, and compassion for myself. I can do both.”
“So?”
“So your elders want to make you a servant. They don’t think you can reach the apex. Sister Lin, who gives a damn what they think? They aren’t you, and they can’t decide your destiny. You don’t want to be a servant? Fine. Don’t be one. Find your own path to the apex. Did that old demon screw you over? Sure. But why does she get to rule your destiny? Why would you let her rule your destiny? Look carefully. What do you see?”
“More servants,” she grunted, “Overseen by their king.”
“Then you aren’t looking properly. Did you see the sign when we came in?” Tian shook his head.
“About the War King? Yes.”
“He was serving under someone else. He wasn’t the emperor. But look at him. Really look at him. Does he look humiliated? Weak? Do you really think they erected a temple to him if he didn’t reach the apex? But there is nothing saying who he served. No pictures on the wall that someone carefully chipped away. Maybe it was in some other building that they let go to ruin. Which should tell you who they thought really mattered. It seems that ‘serving’ is a matter of perspective.”
Lin was looking at him. Her face unreadable.
“Sister Lin is stuck in the past, unable to let things go easily. Your qi stagnates. Your cultivation has not progressed this year. But look- here is a path to the apex that none of us is set to tread yet. One can serve and be served. One can rule with benevolence. Your path was blocked once before, Sister Lin. But if you can turn and flow, you will see that your path did not end. It just carried you to an unexpected place.”
“You think I can still walk the path of kings?” Her face was flat, her voice trembled.
“I do. If you wish to walk it. You can walk any path you choose. It’s the Dao, Sister Lin. Endless paths, all leading to the absolute. The statue in the main hall offers one path. Here is another, quieter one. But I guarantee, between the two, this is the statue that War King Cho would say best carried his dao. Or you could refuse them all, and stagnate. Decay. Turn to sickness. Hide from the world. Become a demon. That, too, is a choice you can make.”
Tian cupped his hands and bowed deeply, then turned and walked back out into the ruins of the temple. He had done all he could. The lamp of compassion in him blazed furiously, banishing the cool fog smothering the forest. Doing it’s damnedest to illuminate the way for his sister, still lost in the darkness of the Six Turns Caverns.
Tian felt a sudden convulsion and a twist of qi behind him. The water elements were stirred and drawn down, like water into a drain. There was a hint of dao charm there too. Not a breakthrough in cultivation levels, but a breakthrough nonetheless. Tian drew in an enormous breath, and exhaled happily.
He didn’t like Lin much. That didn’t matter. She was a sister in pain. Shouldn’t someone who wants to be a doctor find a way to help her heal? Besides, despite what he had said to Lin, he still kind of liked the Saintess. He used her teachings every day.
The patterns on War King Cho’s robes were identical to the ones etched on the Saintess’ ring.