Chương 64: Chapter 13

Xing Xing and Chen Liwei blinked, then their reactions became distinctly different. The more ancient Elder brushed his chin, intrigued. The General sat back, lips pressed together and eyes wide. Wu Zetian hummed, pleased. After the crepes, she had been… dabbling. The cookies were the result of her newfound interest in cooking.

And since her previous self apparently did and learned everything, and anything but perfection was insulting, she had cheated a little bit, adding a tiny drop of Shen to make them, well, transcendental. It wouldn't turn anyone into an Immortal, but the effect was like that provided by a high-grade cultivation help. It took far too long for a single batch, but the expressions made it all worth it. Wu Zetian glanced toward Shanti. Told you so.

The woman, who had been deprecating the "Founder needing to spend her precious time in more constructive ways", refused to offer an answer. Still needed to clear her throat and look away, though. Eh.

"Quite the work, Lady Wu," Xing commented.

"May I?" At her nod, he gently took a cookie.

"Marvelous," he breathed, eyes gleaming with interest.

"Why, thank you. Go on. Try it." He did just so, and it was funny then watching the big Elder trying his best to hold on to composure.

"The recipe…" He managed between coughs. Wu Zetian chuckled.

"What about you, General?" She looked toward the gardens, where a series of heads, with one in particular, were taking in the air, wondering at the new scent.

"You may want to get to wintering before the squirrels are out." Chen Liwei hesitated. She watched the cookies, then her lap.

"I couldn't abuse the Founder's craftmanship. Other guests are surely worthier." Xing Xing scoffed, popping the cookie into his mouth, and looking shamelessly satisfied even under Chen's glare. Eh, cute. It may have been her growing maternal side speaking, or maybe it was her having twenty-nine millennia over everybody present here. She was really starting to see her people as her children, Night General included. And children needed cookies, even when they were too coy to just take them.

And, well, one could always join fun with useful.

"Well, how is this then?" Chen Liwei looked at her, frowning. Wu Zetian smiled.

"Let's have a little contest. If you win, this will be yours by right. Why, I will throw another small batch for your Clan." Chen Liwei opened her mouth, closed it. Her gaze moved from the cookies to the Founder's face.

"I…"

"I would take the offer, General," Xing Xing commented, inspecting his nails.

"Who knows when the honored Founder will find the time to cook us another batch?" Well, that was a way of settling things. The announcement that the Founder and the Night General would be offering an exhibition match monopolized attention in a flash. The last time the Ancestor was seen in action was during the closing of the Siege, and there wasn't a noble who wasn't eager to see her power firsthand again.

Shivers of delicious terror passed across the guests as they lined up at the edges of one of the training camps, talking about what was to come.

"Grandma, are you bullying again?" Wu Lin had a concerned expression.

"First of all, you stop asking that, or it's the claw again for you." The little girl cringed.

"And no, I am not. We're playing a little to decide to get cookies." That, Lin decided, was a right and proper reason to smash each other's faces in. Zhao, in a rare moment of opinion-offering, agreed too.

"Just keep that weirdo away," she grumbled, glaring toward Chen Wei. The boy was helping his mother fix her armor. Lin's expression turned thoughtful.

"No, forget that, grandma. Lin will fix him up yet."

"Now that's the spirit." Wu Zetian stood up, smoothing her robes.

"Run along now. And don't go eating cookies. You had your fill earlier."

"Awwww!"

"Shanti, make sure this scamp doesn't give herself a stomachache."

"By your will, Founder. Please, don't maim the Sect's first general."

"No promises. Off with you, you silly girl." They left, leaving her alone in the field. Wu Zetian huffed. The Night's breeze caressed her cheeks, bringing that particular scent of new things as it played with her hair. Undimmed, her previous self's millennia's worth of battle experience rose, a spread unfolding itself for inspection. She picked through them, wondering. Better to keep it simple for this one time.

"At your pleasure, honored Founder," said Chen Liwei, attracting her attention. As her son jogged away, the matriarch thumped her spear against the ground. The eager recruit Wu Zetian was getting used at was gone. In her place, a general stood. Tea party or battlefield, Chen Liwei wore only one suit of armor, the same worn by generations of Chen clanmasters. It was black, completely so. But not glossy black, nor the artificial darkness of painted steel.

The alloy it was forged from was so dark that light seemed to sink into it. Under daylight, Wu Zetian knew it would have appeared charcoal black. Under the subtle gloom of the Night, its edges took a faint blue-silver sheen. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. No piece was simple. Plates interlocked in a complex structure, shifting and sliding smoothly as the General made her last adjustments.

Some were as small as fingernails, moving without a sound, providing the best range of motion. It was no gentle silhouette. The pauldrons were heavy. The chest protruded strongly. The waist folded inward before expanding in overlapping armored tassets around the hips and upper thighs. Between her legs, a war-skirt almost reached her ankles, parting seamlessly when she moved. The gorget was formed by segmented plates that reached almost to her jaw, almost framing her head in dark steel.

The helmet was modeled after the ancient war-helms used by the Sect during its inception day, with angular cheek guards and the crown rising into a subtle backward ridge reminiscent of a predatory bird's swept feathers. A silver crescent stood at its center, like the moon at midnight. Behind it, a long plume of horsehair gathered in a severe martial tail. The original helmets allowed the wearer's face to be seen.

From a different time they were, when technology wasn't developed enough to trump the need for recognition. As Chen Liwei finished fixing hers, segmented plates snapped shut, enclosing her face in a matte-black mask. Only the eyes remained visible, and only behind sharp visors. All in all, her appearance wasn't luxurious as much as austere and threatening. The only exception was the magnificent crimson cloak flapping from her shoulders. Which was covered with patches, mending and fixed tears.

More of a memory of personal glory than a relic. Wu Zetian admired the craftsmanship. Her previous self had obsessed over these kinds of things. She… not as much. She could enjoy a well-made contract, breathe in the success from a portfolio ledger. Making things with her two hands? Not as much. But second-hand admiration was still admiration, especially when she could see the complex ways Qi interlaced in the material. Chen Liwei noticed.

"My deepest apologies, honored Founder," she said, sounding tense. Wu Zetian paced, slowly tracing the beaten dirt. Her eyes didn't leave the Chen.

"None of that," she said.

"I wouldn't have entrusted that armor to your ancestors if I thought they shouldn't have added to it when the time came. The face-mask could use some work, but it's quite the addition."

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and with me my Clan."

"Mm-mh." Chen Liwei grasped her spear. Like her armor, it was a work of art, and like her armor, it formed the last element of a deeply thought-out Qi network. Once she took it, the system was completed. Her Night Qi wafted out, filling both like blood into vessels. Black plates came to life, lines of silvery light treading over their surfaces like constellations emerging from the night. Formations etched into the metal, Qi arrays to diverge force and blunt trauma, runes to amplify powers and their effects.

It was a whole network of lines and words that wouldn't have made a bad impression on a fortress. Magnificent. The admiration was deep enough that it made Wu Zetian wonder if being an artisan and being a CEO were so different. In her full plate, ringed by a halo of light, Chen Liwei was a god of war. In comparison, her flowing robes, long hair and bare feet weren't… as impressive. Well, she would try not to make the General look too bad. Chen Liwei breathed.

Grabbing her spear, she turned around with a flourish and took a stance. The guests gasped. Wu Zetian glanced toward Shanti. A few steps back, if you don't mind. The woman nodded, then moved to have the rest of the party move just so.

"Rules by your pleasure, Founder," said Chen, ignoring the little exchange. Apart from a little tension and a little eagerness, the martial, no-nonsense general was back. Wu Zetian hummed, tilting her head. The dirt around her stirred with invisible currents as she summoned her Qi.

"Until either of us has enough is fine, I suppose. And if you can strike me, General, there is a cookie for you." Chen didn't take the bait. Her nod was quick and firm.

"I will take that prize if our General relinquishes it," Xing said. The big Elder stood close, ringed hands folded and a polite smirk on his lupine features. Smiling, Wu Zetian tilted her head.

"On your mark then." There were rules, in theory. Etiquette for duels and such and such. Wu Zetian had decided to waive them away. They were having fun. What was the point of being Ancestor if you couldn't have fun at your leisure?

"Go!" Ground ruptured as Chen Liwei kicked, exploding into motion. There was no hesitation: the General came straight for her with a violent, direct thrust. Humming, Wu Zetian made space coil. If asked how it was, she'd say: "like making strings of beads and twisting them." It was quickly becoming her favorite skill. Chen Liwei smashed straight through. Her spear blazed like she was holding a raging flame; it punctured the coiled space, carving a path, and she continued on, undeterred. Too heavy to move aside?

Wu Zetian didn't move. Darkness flooded the ground around her, billowing from her robes like mist. A tendril sprouted from it, followed by another and another, standing in the way of the general. Chen Liwei's spear smashed through the first and the second, before stopping against the third with a clang and a shockwave of Qi. She didn't stop. Harnessing her own momentum, she pivoted and sidestepped, the spear lengthening as she brought it down. Wu Zetian watched it streak toward her head.

Darkness arched over her, and the spear slammed against it. A tentacle stabbed from its side, but Chen Liwei was already moving. The General danced around Wu Zetian, her spear raising and falling so fast it was like she stood beneath the rain. Wu Zetian let her Night waft out, but Chen Liwei didn't let herself be caught. Her own Night was a dense shell around her; it twisted the way the world registered her presence, blurring it, making it heavier, denser, increasing the range of her blows.

It flooded her spear, sharpening it instead of acting alone. The result was something that could cleave through darkness. She's impressive, no doubt about it. Wu Zetian stepped aside as the spear cleaved through her shield. It smashed into the ground, not gouging uncomfortably deep only because those grounds were threaded with Qi. Wu Zetian stamped on it, tendrils stabbing from all around her at the same time. Chen Liwei fell, dodging two tendrils while her armor absorbed the hits of the others.

She pulled and twisted, before coming forward with the butt of her spear. Punching. Actually punching. Now this is some spirit, Wu Zetian thought, unleashing a shockwave that sent her flying back. Chen Liwei flipped in the air, cloak flapping. She landed lightly, already back in her stance. But she didn't attack. Her Qi started to change. Wu Zetian tilted her head. Among their audience, gasps went up.

"The General is summoning her Bloodline!"

"Stand back!"

"Isn't… isn't this going too far?" if it was, the Chen matriarch didn't think so. Icy mist colored the air as she let go a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing. Lines of ice threaded her armor, sneaking down her boots and across the ground. The temperature, mild and pleasant until then, plummeted. Wu Zetian raised a hand, frowning at the frost already covering her fingers. A Frigid Night. How interesting. The cold it brought was more than physical.

It was conceptual, the sheer idea of cold condensed and materialized. Her poetic side thought of snowstorms howling into the night, the sky long lost between the flurries of snow. A darker, alien yet familiar side thought of experiments, dissections and worse. She decided to go with her more analytical one.

It reminded her that the boasting of the Night aristocracy wasn't all talk: fed by millennia of accumulated wisdom and the Shadow Dragon Vein, the strongest among the Nightborn trumped the country bumpkins of the late Borderlands. One Chen Liwei could have crushed three Gan Ning, or even more. Which explained why the Demon Alliance was so eager to expend their forces. Ten thousand lesser cultivators lost were worth Xing Xing or Chen Liwei expending part of their strength.

Hundreds of thousands fighting and dying, and in the end only a handful truly matter. How scary is the cultivation world. Watching that black and silver-armored form, swathed in growing ice, her eyes gleaming with a cold light, she could understand it.