Though the figure was slightly taller than the wolf, the people looking up had the sense that it was the God’s choice. He didn’t feel very tall, somehow. It wasn’t in his nature. He raised his left hand, holding the rosary before his face, counting the beads with his thumb as he chanted. “Xhe, Cho, Va, Ro, Un, Ce, In, On, Um…”
If the wolf’s howl contained the essence of the steppe wolf, in all its glory and terror, the monk’s chant was simply nature, the cycle ever changing, but ultimately nurturing life. Fire warmed and lifted and chased away the night. Water cooled and healed and calmed. Wood was growth and food and life, and metal the drive to strive, to struggle through adversity. Anchoring it was the earth, sometimes yin, sometimes yang, the mountain’s majesty, the valley's intimacy. It was what lifted you up, and grounded you.
The wheel turned, always, but after the wolf’s winter-howl, spring growth came. The predator of the steppes… what was that? In this land of rivers and lakes, in this land of farmers, did they care about chasing prey? They grew what they needed. The images rose unbidden, brought on by the God’s chant. The diligence of planting, the careful weeding and irrigation, the worry watching the sky and the little green shoots rising. The joy as they grew tall, ripened, and bowed their heads, heavy with grain. The triumph of the harvest, the festivals, the laughter as a whole village came together. Even a city on the steppes like Burning Flag wasn’t indifferent to the season’s joys. People smiled more, raced to the grocers, eager to buy the first of the year’s new rice.
“These aren’t my insights.” Tian’s voice was a shocked murmur, even transmitted with his qi. “I’m no farmer. This isn’t spring and summer as I know them. He’s learned new things.”
“It’s still you underneath. Look how he’s standing. Look how he holds that stick. I’d be six weeks dead and I’d recognize the way you fidget with your rosary.”
“He’s got some of you in there too. I’d be seven weeks dead and still recognize that one handed thrust.”
Tian and Hong stood side by side, awed by their creation. The attacks on the ward slowed. The grand shamans turned away to watch the giants fight. The cultivators weren’t going anywhere, and ultimately, they weren’t what was important.
The chanting gently stopped as the wolf gathered itself. Tian wasn’t sure where the wolf ended and the Great Wolf Shaman began. There was a light of wisdom in the wolf’s smokey eyes, but the longer Tian looked at the great beast, the more “wolf” it became. A creature that was exactly the sum of its parts, but its parts were more numerous and infinitely more glorious than he had ever imagined. Somehow, Uudam was a piece of that immense whole.
Tian couldn’t see it yet, he could only feel the outlines of a vast mystery. A wonder. A true wonder. A hunger grew in him. He respected the shamans, yes, but Daoism seemed to hold all the answers he sought. It had no answer for this that he knew of. It was something within the five elements, but apart from it too. He squeezed his hands, trying to distract himself from the itchy feeling in his heart. What were the spirits? What were the city gods? He was on the path to slay the mad god, how could he ignore such a fascinating road marker?
The wolf was pacing outside the walls, crouching and growling, testing the Martyr Venerable. With a light step, the god soared into the air and crossed the walls, coming down to float above the moat. The broken broomstick was held loosely, an afterthought in his right hand. His back was straight, but his shoulders were loose. Indifferent. Just watching and waiting, accepting whatever came.
The wolf pounced. Snarling, jaws wide, fangs bright in the sun. The worn stick cracked down on the muzzle, then rather than stabbing the crown again, the stick slid over the head to press down on the neck. The wolf shook itself and slid free, hopping back and crouching again. Its eyes moved, but never lost their focus on its enemy, making snarling growls and pulling its lips back from its long teeth. The monk returned to stillness.
When the wolf came again, it feinted left before turning and biting at the monk’s arm. The stick swung up this time, pulling the head upward and exposing the neck. The stick stabbed forward, into the hollow of the wolf’s neck. Each blow should have been fatal, or at least disabling. The rules were different in battles between spirits.
“I need to get out there.” Tian messaged Liren. “The Martyr Venerable can hold him, I’ll crush the spirit.”
Liren didn’t even glance over at him. She just nodded. Tian would have sworn he saw a faint smile tugging at her lips. Was there a hint of anticipation in her eyes?
“She wants to fight a god. Heaven help me, she wants to fight a god, and this is the closest she can get. Just who the hell did I take as a dao companion? Was I kicked in the head? Do I need a kick to the head?”
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Tian collected the formation plate and the partially used spirit crystals, breaking the formation. Liren wasn’t polite, ambushing one shaman with a rushing attack, and disabling more with a bolt of lightning from an iron token with the words “Thunder Command” carved into it. It snapped in two after just the one bolt, but that was enough. She had broken the encirclement and was racing through. Not stopping to finish off the wounded. Win or lose, the battle would be decided not in the camp of the Yuu, but before the city walls.
Tian wasn’t any more polite than Liren, flickering through the camp like a drifting ghost or god. He, too, flung out talismans, but rather than a heavenly talisman, he loosed earthly ones that let out an entire fog bank of irritating smoke. It wouldn’t be fatal, but it would spread chaos. It would buy them time. Time that was far more precious than a few more dead or wounded shamans.
The two raced over the short grass faster than mortal eyes could follow. The Martyr Venerable saw them coming. He raised his left hand, and traced vermillion characters upon the air. “When the Battle Comes, Advance as One!”
The characters flew forward and sank into Liren, then a second set landed on Tian. They conferred something on him, a sense of unity with Liren, with the city, with the Venerable, but also a feeling of authority. As though he had been granted the right to do something. He didn’t have time to think it over. He was under the wolf now.
The wolf saw them, of course, and its massive head turned to snap them up like crickets. It caught a hard crack to the back of its neck for its efforts, and a heavy kick to its shoulder spun it a quarter turn to the left. This gave Liren virtually an entire city wall’s worth of flank to strike. She chose to aim directly at the wolf’s waist. From below.
“Linear Flame!” She cried, traditions of the West Town Outer Court be damned. She had changed to the horn spear, and let it lead as she rose in a pillar of golden fire. The wolf tried to shift away, but the Martyr Venerable managed to limit its movements with his staff. The spear didn’t manage to rip open the wolf’s underbelly, but she still cut a deep furrow. Tian’s eyes focused on the wound. It was red, yes, but not as bloody as he thought. It throbbed, shimmered, but didn’t bleed. His hands twitched, and he had to swallow his saliva. Something in his body craved whatever that was. Badly.
The wolf spun, slipping from the monk’s stick. A paw, taller than a temple pillar, swept towards Liren. She was quick enough to dash back, but the wolf was a hair faster. The paw caught her and sent her flying. Tian’s heart rose to his throat, choking him.
“Liren!”
There was no answer. He could feel her qi, disordered and chaotic, but still present. She wasn’t dead. He could fix this. He just had to kill this damned wolf!
The wolf hadn’t missed his coming. How could it? Tian was considerably slower than Liren. A heavy paw lifted and fell like a meteor. It looked like it should have squashed Tian directly into the steppe. When the dust cleared, Tian was still standing, one hand on the Wolf’s leg. He had made the wolf miss.
Soft hands, pale as moonlight, grasped the yellow-grey fur of the giant wolf. A body light as thistledown swarmed up the leg, never letting go, no matter how the wolf stomped its foot. The Martyr Venerable did its part too, striking the wolf around the head and neck. Not able to kill it outright, but able to batter it and keep it from the walls.
Tian knew the Venerable couldn’t manifest for long. It was already a miracle that it could manifest at all. The wolf couldn’t possibly last forever either. He just had to speed up the rate at which the great spirit lost energy. The Moon Crossing the Lake might not be anything special in the wider world, but in the Wasteland of Song, it was still considered top notch. The Supreme Virtue Hell Suppressing Body Refining art was a few notches higher.
Up to the shoulder, then onto the back. He swarmed forward, until he was standing on the great beast’s neck. The footing was very poor, but he wasn’t worried about falling. The neck was wide enough to build a cottage on. He knelt down and sank his hands deep into the scruff. His hands found the skin. It didn’t feed quite how hide should. Tough, flexible, but also smooth. Without flaw or blemish. His body changed, no longer light as a song, The weight of a small hill landed on the Wolf’s neck. Those same soft white hands stabbed through the wolf’s skin, forcing their way deeper, pressing in up to the elbow. Then he grabbed fistfulls of muscle fibers, and clenched. His smile was as hungry as the wolf’s.
The statue floating in his lower dantian began to operate. Chanting, intense, male and female intertwined, didn’t simply pull in the spirit’s qi, it ripped. It tore the immaterial essence from the wolf, letting the earthly dross fall away.
There would be a limit, Tian knew. His body only held so much qi, and he couldn’t cultivate and operate the Hell Suppressing Sutra and fight all at the same time. It was a rather large limit, though. He had practiced the Darknorth Sea Spell for more than a year now, and lately there had been no shortage of energy cores for his spirit body, nor spirit crystals for his cultivation. He had used practically no qi in the fight so far. Talismans were rather unfair that way.
“I’m going to eat your wolf, Uudam. Your god will be gobbled up by me by the fistful. And then, when I have you properly down to size, I’m going to throttle you. I will choke the life out of you, Uudam, and I’ll be thinking of those mortals you drove to their deaths the whole time. I want the light to leave your eyes, knowing that I will personally deliver Wuusan to the Imperial Court to suffer death by a thousand cuts. I did warn you, Uudam. I told you I was a lousy daoist. I’m petty. Jealous. And vengeful.”
Tian’s voice was soft, almost caressing, letting his qi carry his words into the wolf’s ears.
“DIE FOR THIS YOUNG LADY!”
Tian coughed, and in a more normal voice, he added, “All that is assuming Sis’ Liren doesn’t kill you first, of course.”