I.
The wind blew fiercely in from the East, bringing with it a small hint of a home that no longer was. The terrain was harsh, hardened dirt made only harder by the unforgiving cold. The snow piled up in small patches of white against the grey. It would soon cover everything, hiding all imperfections. A deception.
The snow started to accumulate at his feet, but even if it had gone up to his knees, he wouldn’t have noticed or cared. His eyes were fixed on the stronghold ahead. A castle, rather small in stature, blending in with the faraway mountains in the dim light of the night. The home and seat of power of the lord Luo. By all accounts, Luo was a respectable warrior, a recently crowned leader quickly gaining support among Wu Lin fringe groups.
For a moment, he imagined what was taking place inside the walls: a maiden preparing stock for a soup that would be guzzled down by hungry guards; a family sitting close by a warm fire; on his throne, Luo sat comfortably in a hall lit by flickering flames; and somewhere at the heart of it all, a shadowed figure, hiding.
If one were to stand on the outside and look at this castle, one could reach the conclusion that, in a cruel, unrelenting world, it seemed like a place of peace. But that didn’t matter to the man who stood in the snow. The Juren called Baiyan. Peace was of no interest to him. It never had been.
Behind him, the tree line screeched and croaked. The wind was pushing against him, almost urging him on. It made him smile. He was all too happy to oblige. One moment the halberd held firmly in his hand stood vertically; the next it was lowered horizontally, the tip of the blade, now fogged over by the frost, pointing the way.
Forward.
Steam escaped his breath as he exhaled and for a moment, the blizzard quieted. The world seemed to brace for what was to come. Then the wind returned. The forces holding him in place let go, and he broke into a run. The feathered tails of his band flowed behind him, parallel to his cape, making him appear larger than nature. Like the flaring tail of a comet streaking through the night sky.
When the two guards posted at the top of the wall spotted him, they yelled out in surprise and rushed to sound the bell.
Good, Baiyan thought. Let them know I’m coming. Let them all know.
He didn’t flinch or stop at the sight of the wooden door underneath the small stone arch. He simply met it with his shoulder and slammed right through. The impact knocked him off-balance, but he quickly caught himself before stopping in the middle of the courtyard. He allowed the guards to gather in front of him. Caught unaware, they all rushed to arm themselves, the sound of metal and heavy bootsteps moving toward him. He dwarfed them in size, eclipsed them with his sheer presence. Amused, he let out a boisterous laugh. They were but insects, hopeless against a giant.
“Come on then,” he roared. “Let’s fight!”
Taken aback, the insects hesitated. But finally, they obeyed.
II.
The Jurens were once warriors of legend, deployed by Emperor Gao Lei only in times of great need, when eradication was necessary for the good of the Wu Lin empire. Some likened them to sleeping giants, who were only awoken to stomp on whatever stood in their path. But that had been a long time ago. When Baiyan had been a proud member of Gao Lei’s inner circle, holding himself with the esteem of one who had no equal in the Emperor’s court.
A different life. Now, he only answered to himself.
The battle had reached the inside of the castle. Behind Baiyan was a trail of fallen soldiers. Pools of blood lay scattered on the unpolished stones of the floor, and the blizzard funneled both snow and cold through the broken gate, casting a white glow of frost into the crimson torch-lit hall. He stabbed the minion in his path right through the stomach, before casting the body aside with a mighty swerve that propelled it into the wall, leaving a splatter of red against the cobblestones. As he advanced through the hallway, he kept on killing soldier after soldier. With every one of his slashes, straight lines of blood crisscrossed patterns on the walls, and enemies fell to the wayside with whimpers and cries.
The last of them fell as Baiyan reached the steps that led to the throne room.
The Juren stood there for a moment. Shoulders wide, his weapon upright at his side. Steady, still, immovable. He knew what awaited him beyond those steps. It was the calm before the storm.
Only, he was the storm.
Each step up the stairs, he let land loudly. They served as an announcement to his arrival. As he did so, he replayed it all in his mind—the day it had all changed. The battle at the bottom of the ravine. The sound of the Zhanhus’ explosions. That feeling of betrayal, when he understood the Emperor had signed his death warrant. The rubble. The blood. And the lesson, most important of all.
He climbed the last step, and walked into the throne room. There he found, on his throne, the lordship Luo. Surrounding Luo was a court comprised of consorts, guards, servants, guests and villagers. Long tables had been spread out along the walls, each filled with a myriad of food and drink: large bowls of steamed rice and vegetables, fresh baked goods such as bread and buns, fire-roasted meats, warm pots of tea and large jars of baijiu and wine. Some of the guests were aristocrats wearing elaborate gowns; others were simple villagers in regular garb, invited and treated as equals. All indulged in food, drink and warmth. It appeared Luo ruled with equality. It was admirable.
Baiyan’s arrival had interrupted the servants’ music, and most of the guests had flocked to the sides, backing away with uncertainty and fear.
“Guards!” Luo sprang up on his feet, “seize him this instant!”
Answering the call, three guards—two Nuxias and one Tiandi—rushed towards him, blades drawn. He held a defensive position, simultaneously blocking hits from all three. Timing his attack perfectly, he side-stepped and slashed a Nuxia’s stomach open, then pivoted and sliced the second one’s throat. Finally, with one swift strike, he lopped off the Tiandi’s head. The motion of the strike sent the head flying and tumbling down the court’s polished floor. Blood sprayed profusely onto a nearby aristocrat woman, who yelled out in horror before passing out.
Dead silence stood in the air. The entire room held its breath. Shocked at the display of brutality, his lordship Luo sat back down. He dared not move.
“My lord,” Baiyan said with a hint of disdain. “I believe I should salute thee,” he mocked a bow, “as a new, hopeful ruler of the Wu Lin.” He stared at Luo with a piercing gaze. “I apologize for disrupting what appears to be a splendid evening. But believe me when I say, my presence here is… necessary.”
“Fair lords and ladies,” Baiyan’s voice boomed loudly through the hall, “although it may not appear so,” he moved slowly, passing closely from one person to the next, “I have come here to deliver… a message.”
He kept moving. Searching. “In your midst stands a frail snake. A coward. A figure, once mighty and proud, now discarded and disgraced.”
He walked past Luo’s throne, and stopped in front of a cloaked figure. “Always hiding. Always scheming. It has been a long time…”
He reached out with his massive hand, and pushed the hood back.
“…Emperor.”
III.
“Let me offer a guess,” Baiyan said, dragging Gao Lei to the center of the room. “He offered to serve as some sort of advisor, yes? Nothing more.” He turned to Luo, keeping his blade close to the former Emperor’s neck. “He possesses great knowledge and foresight,” he continued, “and has promised to help widen your influence. To embolden your claim to this throne, maybe even the Wu Lin themselves. That is why many look to you now as an important figure. As a leader.”
Luo’s silence was all the confirmation Baiyan needed.
“I hear you are an honorable man,” Baiyan told Luo. “More than most in these wretched lands. Perhaps you took pity on Gao Lei. Believing he would serve you well. But I promise all of you: he is lying. I am living proof.”
Baiyan found the dead Tiandi’s sword on the floor and, with his foot, slid it to Gao Lei. “Please don’t disappoint me,” the Juren hissed.
Gao Lei removed his cloak, revealing his armor, its gold accents worn and faded by time. He was a relic of a different time. A remnant who no longer held any value.
“I know you are angry,” the Gao Lei said, assuming a fighting stance.
“Angry?” Baiyan scoffed. “Oh, you insignificant little man… You really don’t know anything.”
Baiyan launched into attack, his halberd twirling far and wide in the spacious hall. With his sword, Gao Lei sprung into action, blocking the Juren’s hits with surprising vigor. Baiyan had heard of the disgraced Emperor’s squabble with some Pirates, and how he had been defeated into shame. Clearly, Gao Lei had found the will to stand and fight once again. It’s likely why he was here now. Because he was up to something. Same as always.
Baiyan leaped into the air and hit the ground with a powerful landing. A show of force befit a behemoth. Gao Lei attacked, but his opponent’s defensive stance was all but impenetrable.
“I wanted to thank you,” Baiyan expressed through the sounds of steel against steel. “By betraying me, you taught me a valuable lesson. You showed me what you really were. What all of you were.”
The Juren pushed him back, and launched into a relentless chain of attacks. He had something to accomplish. But it wasn’t what the fallen Emperor thought. All the crowd could do was watch – anticipation and terror rendering them mute.
With immense power, Baiyan shoved Gao Lei to the ground, at Luo’s feet.
“Look now upon this man,” Baiyan proclaimed to the court, “on the ground, where he belongs. A worthless worm. All he knows to do is cower. All he knows to do…”
He turned to the crowd, knowing very well what would come next: Gao Lei chose to strike. But the Juren was not taken by surprise. He spun and, with a mighty strike of his spear, broke his enemy’s blade, smashing it to pieces.
“… is cheat.”
He grabbed his former Emperor by the collar and pushed him aside. Baiyan wrapped both hands around his weapon and, with a succinct movement that left the entire crowd gasping, he stabbed. Gao Lei winced—then exhaled, for he was not Baiyan’s target.
The Juren’s blade was lodged in Luo’s chest, the halberd holding him in place on his throne.
“There will be no unity,” the Juren declared. “No rulers. You only know how to use,” he added, pointing to the dead guards, “and betray.” A drip of blood gushed from Luo’s mouth, his stare fading into nothing.
Baiyan stared down at Gao Lei, as a lion would a mouse. None would command him. None would reign over him. “I am done with you.”
The living embodiment of defiance, Baiyan let out a chuckle, a period to a sentence he no longer cared to speak. He took back his weapon—allowing Luo’s dead body to fall to the ground—and headed back towards the stairs.
“Aspire to rule…” he told the crowd, “…and die.”
Baiyan stepped out into the plains. The snow had already covered most of the terrain, a blanket of white stretching all the way to the edge of the forest. From the tree line, multiple figures detached, moving towards Baiyan. They were Jurens, just like him. His men, awaiting orders.
“Onto Qiang Pass,” he said flatly. “We have more lords to kill.”
He kept on walking, passed his men, and disappeared into the blizzard. One with the storm.
