Chương 93: Ashes of the fallen

The battlefield was not silent. It only pretended to be. Bamboo whispered like it was ashamed to be standing. Under that thin sound came the broken breathing of men who had lived, and the wet, ugly quiet of the ones who had not. Somewhere a sob started and could not stop. It crawled across the mud and found every chest that still had a heart in it. We began the grim work of gathering our dead with a heavy thud in our hearts, as understanding touched and embraced us: accepting loss is the normal state of things.

Yet, even if I did not know them long enough to really have a strong connection, it is always a reminder to get stronger, so as not to turn into the one lying motionless on the ground. I walked through mud and blood-soaked ground. Every step hurt because my energy was low, yet I took action to help gather our comrades. One by one, we lifted the fallen. Some were Golden Tooth brothers I had trained with in the Trial of Iron Will. Others were warriors from Mo's agency, Treasure Seeker, Safety Delivery.

We carried them with heavy hearts and laid them inside the abandoned merchant carriage, that being the very same carriage Faihzu had used to haul his lies with. Tears mixed with sweat and blood on many faces. A young soldier from our agency knelt beside his older brother and clutched the cold hand.

"You said we'd go home together…" His voice broke on the last word. I put a hand on his shoulder and found nothing that could make that sentence lighter. Xihua worked in silence. Her sharp tongue was gone. She closed the eyes of the fallen. Her pipe stayed dead in her hand. Xhife helped carry bodies with no arms left, as they stilled were in recovery, face pale, jaw locked on grief that had nowhere to go. Then came the moment that almost finished us.

Woushi walked alone toward the fading Water Gate where his father's body still lay. The gate was collapsing. Red-tinted water drained out slow. Zhuofing the Dirty Finger followed, face dark. He had always treated Woushal as his greatest rival.

"I need to see it with my own eyes," Zhuofing muttered.

"I need to know the bastard is truly dead." Woushi tried to stop him.

"Leader Zhuofing, please… my father is gone. Let him rest, i will bury him myself." Zhuofing ignored him. He stepped into the draining water and looked down at Woushal's motionless, cut-up body. Rage and grief twisted his face. He punched the Water Gate with the gauntlet that still glowed. The gate shattered. Water and blood exploded outward. Zhuofing kicked the "corpse" hard.

"Wake up! Your joke is horrid! Get up, you bastard!" He kicked again. Woushal's body rolled. Eyes opened. He coughed weak, blood and water spraying from his mouth. Woushi froze.

"F-Father…?!" Woushal sat up slow. Kraken form long gone. Exhausted. Alive.

"Sorry… my stamina was too low. I knew if I kept fighting I would die for sure and wanted to at least prepare you for the worst of it. I played dead… so you could grow stronger and finish it. And you did, my son. I'm proud of you." Woushi's face tore between rage, relief, and disbelief.

"You let me think you were dead?! I mourned you! I cried over your body!" Zhuofing stared. Then a tired, bitter laugh came out of him.

"You crazy bastard… I almost cried for you too." Woushal smiled weak and bowed his head to both of them.

"I apologize. To both of you. If I hadn't played dead with my strong healing, I would have died one hundred percent. Forgive this old rival." Rival. Son. Survivor. They stood in the middle of the carnage and let the raw thing sit between them the ugly, shaking, and for once not a fight. We gathered all our dead with heavy hearts. Every body we lifted felt heavier than meat and bone. Not from weight. From what they had been. Brothers and sisters who fought beside us.

Who laughed through the brutal training on the 1000 Mountain. Who shared meals. Who bled for the Golden Tooth. Now they were cold. Silent. Finished on their path. I carried two Golden Tooth soldiers myself. One was the young man who joked with me at the porcelain vase trial. The other was the veteran who slapped my back after we lived through the river race. Their blood had dried on my hands. I could not wipe it off. I did not try. Xihua worked without her sharp tongue. She closed the eyes of the fallen.

Her fingers shook. Quiet prayers left her mouth like she was afraid the dead might not hear them. Xhife, still healing from the loss of his arms, helped as best a broken man could. Pale face. Tears he refused to name. Woushi carried his father with trembling arms even though Woushal had lived. Grief does not wait for facts. For those terrible minutes the boy had believed the old kraken was gone, and that belief still sat in his face like a wound. Mo carried several of his own elites.

That massive frame moved with a gentleness that did not belong to a man who had torn heads off a plant-beast. Even stoic Shiqifan had red eyes while she loaded her fallen. The road back to Kailume was quiet and somber. Almost no words were spoken. Only carriage wheels complaining and the occasional sob someone failed to kill in their throat. Victory sat in the cart with the corpses and felt hollow. When we arrived we gave them a proper cremation at the edge of the city under the setting sun.

We built the pyres with our own hands. Tall. Respectful. Dry wood and bamboo. One by one we laid them down and wrapped them in clean white cloth where we still had cloth to give. The sun painted the sky deep orange and red, as if the heavens had finally decided to look at what we had done. We stood in a long silent line when the fires were lit. Flames rose high. Crackling. Dancing. Carrying what was left of our brothers and sisters toward whatever waited past this cruel world.

Smoke climbed in thick columns and mixed with evening cloud. Many cried openly. Some fell to their knees. Others whispered last goodbyes through broken voices. I stood between Xhife and Xihua. Chest tight with a feeling I could not fully name. Heat of the pyres on my face. Cold inside. A young Golden Tooth soldier broke beside his older brother's fire.

"You promised we'd drink together when we got back…" He sobbed.

"You lied, you bastard…" Xihua's hand found mine for a brief moment and squeezed. Wet eyes. She tried to hide it behind the old tough mask. Xhife stared into the flames. Jaw clenched so hard I thought the bone might crack. I stepped forward a little and looked into the roaring fire that ate the man who had once saved my life in the battle today.

"Rest well may Michaelanius be giving you a new path," I whispered. Voice hoarse.

"All of you. Your sacrifices will not be in vain. We will carry your will. We will become stronger. We will make sure no one else dies like this for a merchant's lies." Tears finally ran. I did not wipe them this time. The flames burned long into the night. We stood until the last pyre fell to glowing embers and the stars came out above us. No one wanted to leave. Leaving felt like abandoning them a second time. When we finally turned away, the weight of survival settled on every shoulder. We had won the battle.

We had lost too many friends to call it a true victory ending the night in sorrow, but with vision of a stronger tomorrow. The next day we finally returned to the Golden Tooth Agency. The road back from the Bamboo Sea was long and heavy. The carriage creaked under wounded men and what we had brought home instead of the ones we lost. Almost no talking. Wheels on the road. Now and then a sob someone failed to kill. When the familiar gates showed in the distance, a quiet wave moved through all of us.

We had left as one hundred proud elites. We came back as sixty-five survivors, carrying the spirit of the ones we left in ash. But as the ash of the fallen settled into our spirits, trouble brewed ahead. The debt collectors were already waiting at the gate. Hasou, forty-eight, thin, sharp calculating eyes, grey-streaked hair combed neat, stood with arms crossed. Two very strong bodyguards flanked him. One: tall, heavy muscle, bald head, deep scars across the face like claw marks, massive iron club on his shoulder.

Two: a woman with long braided hair and ice-cold eyes. Black dragon tattoos coiled down both arms, ready to strike. Zhuofing stepped forward without hesitation and handed over 1, 543 osmium without a word. He knew exactly why they were there, and why the elders had refused to open the gates. They could not give in and let them inside, for there was very little left to take. The coins changed hands. The debt that had sat on the Golden Tooth's throat for years finally let go.

Zhuofing looked relieved and disappointed at how much it cost. The crushing weight was still gone. Some of the older members cried tears of relief out in the open. We also split the hidden coins Faihzu had stashed under the carriage, which amounted to 5, 000 osmium in total. With twenty-five percent going to each agency, each received 1, 250 osmium. It was real breathing room this time, as our debt was finally paid off in full. Mo took the iridescent pearl for safekeeping.

He would leave soon for the City of Xishhang, the History Seeker town, to meet the one who originally found it. We agreed to meet again in two weeks. Plan the next move. Make the alliance official and try to find more pearls together. The days after were filled with training and recovery. Our spirits were at an all-time high, driven by the determination not to disappoint the fallen and to strengthen our backs. We pushed through hard training sessions, even while many of us were still recovering from our wounds.

Every morning I trained with Xhife and a group of the surviving boys. The herbs had done remarkable work on him, and his body was healing the wounds where his limbs used to be. Although he still favored his right side, he developed a new method of using the staff with his mouth, already thinking of creating new moves with it. We pushed hard, performing one thousand Mountain Squats with weights, followed by sparring and practicing techniques until our bodies quit. I tried again and again to wake my Ignis Ardente.

The new technique stayed elusive. At the very least my Elsa di Fuoco the Hilt Fire Blaze got better. The flame aura slashes sharper. Hotter. More precise. The boys watched with respect. A quiet bond started to sit between us. In the evenings, after a short rest, I sat down with Xihua and pleaded for her help. Since the elders and leaders had so much to do now, she was the only one available who was not burdened by those duties. I wanted the young heir to help me gain better control of my Soul Vestuto.

It was time for me to work on it properly with someone who could keep up with it or even beat it. We met in a quiet corner of the agency, with the moonlight shining brightly over us. She activated her Phantasmal Incense Vestuto and forced me to call upon my Soul Attribute as I overloaded my brain. This time, I could see. There was no blur and no haze. The world inside the Soul Vestuto was sharp and vivid.

Although control was still far from perfect, and instinct tried to take the wheel to force me to shut down, I was no longer completely lost in it. I was actively battling my own mind to stay awake. After one hard session we sat on the training ground, both breathing like we had run through fire from hell itself. Xihua took a slow drag from her pipe and let a long trail of smoke go.

"You're getting better at control," she said quiet.

"I can see it. Last time you used the Soul Vestuto, it was like watching a storm try to devour you. Now… you're starting to ride it." I stared at my hands.

"I can see everything now. The power, the rage, the shadow-grey armor, and the control of it. All of it is clear. But I am still fighting my own instinct. Next time I use it, I do not want to lose myself again. I still have to improve, and I cannot stop just yet with these small gains." Xihua looked at me a long moment. The usual sharp face softened.

"You won't. Not if you keep fighting it like this. That power inside you… it's terrifying. But it's also yours at the end of the day. Don't let it control you. You control it you going to need to keep its at grasp for once and then you get the hang of it fully." The words had real weight. For the first time it did not feel like she was only drilling me. She was invested. I nodded slow.

"Thank you, Xihua. For everything.

"A small, rare smile. She flicked ash from the pipe." Don't get sentimental on me, Flamma. We still have a long road ahead of us." We ended the night with greater strength, watching the great moon as it greeted us with its brilliance under the night sky.