Chương 617: Chapter 608

About two seconds into celebrating a new milestone in my recovery, it occurs to me that the ability to feel Aura is less than ideal. I mean, yea, it's a sign that my health and whatever is still improving, but I still can't use Aura, I can only feel it, which means I'm at the mercy of anyone who has Aura unless I have an Aura-capable warrior around to counteract it. Well, not entirely at the mercy of, since I think I could still move around without an Aura of my own, but that's nothing new.

Plus, it's not like I lack Concealed guardians around, since I have more than I can shake a stick at, but when all is said and done, being able to perceive Aura again is just another item on the long list of things to be wary of. With that, my good mood is spoiled and I pet Ping Ping while glancing over my sheets of scribbled questions and nonsensical answers. Dipping my pen in the inkwell, I add 'Why feel Aura again?' and stare at the pages as if expecting the answer to write itself.

Maybe after slipping into a coma, I reset my... Aural receptors or something, like turning myself off and on again, but I didn't even know I had Aural receptors, much less faulty ones. Turns out I don't actually know much about the Martial Path, which is hardly surprising considering the Empire's long history of hoarding secrets and obfuscating truths. Just look at the Imperial Clan.

They churn out stronger warriors than the rest of the province, to the point where Imperial Servants like Luo-Luo become Martial Warriors just to preserve their youthful good looks. Then there's Scions like Liu Xuande, Guan Yunchang, Zhang Yide, and Jian Xianhe, Experts of the Empire who use their Natal Palaces to do paperwork. Paperwork!... Which raises an interesting question. The Eastern Province is supposedly the smallest, least populated province of all.

Granted, the outer provinces having more landmass than most continents in my previous life, so this isn't saying much, but for such a small place, the East sure seems to have a lot of Martial Warriors. I don't have an exact figure to go on, but Luo-Luo was given an honour guard of three hundred and sixty Death Corps.

That's not an insignificant number of Martial Warriors, more than most minor factions in the Society can call upon, but after their training, the members of Luo-Luo's honour guard were simply set aside for the better part of a decade until I co-opted them for my retinue. If the Imperials can set aside that many Martial Warriors for a mere Imperial Servant, they either have more Martial Warriors than they know what to do with, or Luo-Luo is more important than I thought. Probably the former.

When I became Minister of Finance, Shen ZhenWu gave me a thousand more, saying it would be a disgrace to my Office to not have my own honour guard, and Minister of Finance was supposedly a minor title until my War Bond scheme took off.

"Question," I begin, brushing my hair out of my eyes for the umpteenth time.

"How many Death Corps Guards are there? A general figure is enough, like tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions?"

"Not millions, though this one is unsure of an actual figure." Involuntarily offering a small bow in unnecessary apology, Luo-Luo doesn't even notice herself still playing the part of Imperial Servant instead of her true role as friend, partner, and advisor. Something to work on, though I have no idea how, so I simply file it away for future consideration.

"Lord Husband would be better served asking Kuang Biao or another of the Death Corps, but I do know that each head of the Five Supreme Families is said to have an Honour Legion, a host of Death Corps Guards who defend the ancestral family homes. How many members serve in the legion, I cannot say, nor have I ever seen the ancestral homes firsthand, but I have read that each one is a city unto itself."

Seeing my surprise, Luo-Luo corrects herself and says, "Not a city like the ones you are used to, Lord Husband, containing millions of families each, but perhaps thousands at the very least."

"Hmm. What about the Grand Marshal and Prime Minister?" They might well also be the respective heads of their Supreme families, but if the Minister of Finance warrants a thousand guards, surely the Grand Marshal and Prime Minister have more.

"Ten thousand each," Luo-Luo replies, having the number already on hand before adding, "The Royal General's Honour Guard is equal in size, with the caveat that each Death Corps Warrior is an Expert-level talent." Ten-thousand Experts for an armchair general who has probably never commanded a battle in his life. Just... wow. Akanai only brought fifteen-thousand Sentinels with her and left ten-thousand behind to guard the mountain passes.

Mila once told me that when looking at all the villages working under the Sentinel banner, they have a higher percentage of Martial Warriors compared to the normal population, 2. 5% versus the Imperial standard of 1%. This puts the total population around one million people, which is higher than expected until I remember just how large the Saint's Tribulations Mountains really are.

That's pretty much the name for the mountain range west of the Northern Wall, which stretches all the way to the ocean shore, or roughly half the province. In comparison, the Empire can spare twice that number of Martial Warriors as ceremonial guards for three individuals, including ten-thousand rare elites who have reached Natal Palace Formation, and probably Aura Condensation too.

Either the Imperial Clan is much more populous than I first expected, or they crank out Martial Warriors at rates much higher than a measly one to two percent of the population. Probably both, now that I think about it, but I don't really have any proof besides the fact that Luo-Luo said 'most' of her peers had already succeeded at Core Creation when she was only seven years old.

This is the Imperial Academy we're talking about too, a place where Imperial Servants were trained to be artists, poets, singers, dancers, and general trophy companions, so if 'most' of Luo-Luo's peers succeeded at Core Creation, then that says something about Imperial methodology or genetics. Problem is, it doesn't sound like Luo-Luo Created her Core in any strange and unexpected ways. Her experience is fairly similar to mine, and everyone else I know too.

One moment, we were all regular, mortal people, and the next, we found Balance and became Martial Warriors. Kablam. Then again, Luo-Luo also wasn't actively seeking Balance at the time, so there is that. Either way, the Imperial Clan's understanding of the Martial Path probably vastly exceeds the outer provinces', which isn't really news to anyone, but still worth noting.

Out here, it's hit or miss, but it seems like the Imperial Clan has more successes than failures when people are taught to Create a Core, unless Luo-Luo's class was an extreme outlier, which I suppose is possible. Unlikely though, since my orphanages are lucky to meet that 1% average, even with former soldiers and Sentinels offering daily lessons for more than a year under Tanaraq's supervision. I wonder what percentage of Easterners are Martial Warriors, and how many move onto the next milestones?

The majority of Martial Warriors in the outer provinces never move beyond Core Creation, which seems like all sorts of wrong to me... A protesting squeak brings me out of my thoughts, and I look down to see Ping Ping's half-lidded eyes just brimming with profound melancholy as she ponders why my hands have stilled and I'm no longer paying her any attention.

So dramatic, but I love it, and I love her, so I laugh and go back to stroking her smooth, rounded head and massaging her turtle cheeks as she hits me with another burst of Aura before settling in for a lap nap. Problem is, now that both my hands are occupied, I can't brush my hair out of my eyes anymore, and I find myself blowing at my offending bangs in hopes of keeping their sharp tips from poking me in the eyeballs.

Seeing my dilemma, Luo-Luo wordlessly gestures at my hair in an offer of help, but instead of just brushing my bangs aside as expected, she hurries out in a stately, yet excitable manner before returning with an armful of hair tools and products. Dumping everything onto my desk, she none-too-delicately runs a brush through my hair, though luckily, my hair is so straight and fine the tangles are few and far between.

Thankfully, the first thing I did after waking up was take a bath, because otherwise she'd be subjected to two weeks worth of body stank instead of only a few hours. The bath was fun, and Ping Ping loved splashing around, though I'm a little sad Pong Pong hasn't been around to say hi yet.

"Lord Husband," Luo-Luo begins, perhaps professionally obligated to make small talk while playing the part of hair-stylist.

"Have you given any thought to taking on a manservant?" Doing my best not to lose myself in the intoxicating scent of her floral perfume, I furrow my brow and just barely remember not to shake my head.

"No. My hair doesn't need brushing and styling every morning, and we have servants to do the cleaning and stuff."

"Yes, but a manservant is more than a glorified attendant." Satisfied with her brushwork, Luo-Luo produces a pair of scissors and snips away at my sideburns before I have a chance to protest.

"Hired staff is kept at arm's length, for their loyalties can easily be bought, but a manservant is someone you must entrust with many of your greatest secrets and need not guard against, a loyal confidant who will see and care for you in your most vulnerable moments.

They will manage your schedule and make arrangements with your guards, help you plan events and wardrobes, and be your voice in all matters of minor importance you yourself are too busy to pay heed to, such as purchasing a mirror for your bedroom, having the swings greased so they stop creaking so much at night, or setting ant traps to catch them on their way to the food you leave lying around the bedroom."

Glancing at a dried apricot out of the corner of my eye, I purse my lips and resent the implication that I need help dressing or that I'm a slob.

"I left that for the red panda. He wouldn't take it from my hands, so I thought he'd chase after it if I threw it on the floor." This was before Luo-Luo clued me in to the red panda's unexplained origins, so I'm kinda glad the little guy didn't go for it, else I would've inadvertently sent Guan Suo's reincarnation to go fetch, which is just all sorts of weird.

"Don't worry, one of the bears or rabbits will get to the food long before any ants make their way up here."

"All the same, it is something to consider, Lord Husband. After seeing how capable Young Magistrate Fung's manservant is, I thought Lord Husband could use someone of the same calibre." Ha. She's in for a rude awakening if she thinks there is anyone in Fu Zhu Li's league who'd willingly become my manservant. I honestly have no idea why he would settle for being a nursemaid, but according to Fung, the overly-qualified half-weasel has been around for as long as he can remember.

"Tell you what," I say, amused by her foolish naivete, "If you can find someone of Fu Zhu Li's calibre who is willing to be my manservant, then I will hire them on the spot. I won't accept anyone less than his equal though, so good luck to you." Manservant is only the most obvious of his skills, with torturer, Martial Warrior, Healer, and forbidden book collector also on that long list. Hell, maybe I should be like the Legate and find a possible Living Legend to be my seneschal.

What I wouldn't give to know the terms of their contract... Realizing she's been had but unable to figure out why, Luo-Luo falls silent and concentrates on cutting my hair, which I'm not entirely sure is needed. I mean yea, my bangs are poking into my eyes, but even if I pull it all back, my hair's not long enough to tie into a ponytail, much less a bun.

That's the eventual goal, since Luo-Luo said I should endeavour to look more regal and less utilitarian, and I went along with it because Mila, Yan, Mom, and Alsantset all agreed with her and made the decision without consulting me. If I'd known Luo-Luo was going to cut it, I would've snuck out to get my hair cut weeks ago, but I didn't because I wasn't sure I'd survive through the extensive guilt trip.

Besides, I don't really care about my hair either way; it was short because that's how Alsantset always cut it, and I went along because why not? After putting her scissors down, Luo-Luo drops a generous dollop of something cold and wet atop my head and massages it into my scalp. Unsure why any of this is necessary, I go back to reading through my scribbled notes and try to make sense of my thoughts.

The Martial Path and all the milestones make some sort of sense in my head, but when I write it down, I see all those illogical inconsistencies and have to chase them down to their inevitable end, where I give up trying to make sense of it and move on.

'The Core is the powerhouse of the Martial Warrior', is quite literally all I have, and I have no idea where to go from there to create a simple, understandable explanation of the Martial Path.

"Lord Husband, if you could raise your head a bit?" Startled out of my thoughts yet again, I jolt upright and bump the back of my head against the softest surface in all existence, and only belated realize what I'm pressed up against. Cheeks reddening as I mumble out a muted "Sorry", I lean away from Luo-Luo's bosom and try not to burst into flames out of sheer embarrassment. No idea why I'm so flustered, since she'd probably welcome it if I tried to 'take advantage', as it were, but I dunno. It's difficult.

I have two loving wives and a sweet wifey who adores me, but I still don't understand why any woman would want me. I gave Mila and Yan plenty of chances to get out before our marriages, and they both accused me of trying to push them away, so I just sorta accepted they were making a huge mistake and hoped they would never come to regret it too much. What can I say? I'm selfish and I'm in love with many women.

Marriage is great, but the guilt is real, because while a harem seems awesome in theory, in practice, it's less than ideal when you love your wives and want them to be happy, but are also the sole reason for their inevitable unhappiness. So I guess what I'm trying to say is... I dunno. Luo-Luo is already stuck with me, so I should just accept it and make her happy, but... she deserves better. All the women in my life do, but unlike the others, Luo-Luo never had the option to walk away.

It was me or the knife, and considering my first impression, I'm kinda surprised she picked me. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. After wiping her hands clean with a towel, Luo-Luo proceeds to lift my chair with me in it and gently moves it away from the table, all without breaking a sweat or disturbing the half-asleep Ping Ping. Standing in front of me with a handful of hair accessories, Luo-Luo leans over and sets to work with a serious look across her lovely features.

Closing my eyes because it's the only way I know how to avoid staring at her cleavage, I scramble for a topic to discuss and, as per usual, land firmly on business.

"I'd like to look into strengthening the district forts and maybe doing something else that isn't strictly focused on defence at the same time."

"Oh? Such as?" Judging by the strain in her tone, I can tell we probably don't have much money to work with, if any, but that's her purview. I'm the idea man, and she just has to tell me if it's possible or if I'm barking up the wrong tree.

"Well, I was thinking we put in a large water clock in each district, so they can all tell the time. I know most farmers don't need a clock to know the precise time, but I remember people looking lost when I told them their mayors would have office hours during which they would take meetings. Think about it, a centralized water-clock tower in every district, with a bell to toll at certain hours of the day, like morning, noon, and evening.

That would get everyone on more or less the same schedule, and be conducive to community building."

"Hmm, and the bells could also be used to spread warnings and other such messages, in addition to those along the Wall." Picking up on my ulterior motive almost immediately, Luo-Luo continues to work on my hair for another half-minute before picking up the conversation again.

"It would be exorbitantly expensive to place one in every district. What if we limited them to the district forts? Since you plan to eventually have soldiers barracked there, a clock would be of most use there." And we'd have to build ten times less clock towers too. Not as cool, but I suppose every district doesn't need its own clock. Precision machinery is expensive when everything has to be made by hand, and doubly so when it's something as large and precise as gears fit for a clock tower.

"Yea, okay. That works too. I'll send word to Diyako and see about getting a design that is less expensive for future endeavours, but this is a good start." I really wish Dastan's brilliant uncle was willing to come work in Central, but despite never having visited, he hates Central with a passion. Well, to be more accurate, he hates nobles, and he blames Central's elites for the holier-than-thou attitude that infected the North's nobility during his lifetime.

To hear Diyako say it, time was, Northern nobles were a down to earth lot who worked side by side with the warriors and farmers they presided over, which may or may not be true, but considering he grew up in a city which evicted all of its civilians, I feel like Diyako is just seeing the past through rose coloured glasses.

"Is there any particular reason you only just thought to build clock-towers?" A hint of amusement colours Luo-Luo's tone, which makes me think she thinks I'm positioned to massively profit off this, but truth is, I came up with the idea a few hours ago.

"Well, everyone is busy celebrating our successful withdrawal from the front lines, but soon enough, they'll realize that this means the Defiled are closer than ever before." Assuming they haven't already. Despite a marked lack of education, peasants are not dumb, or at least no dumber than your average human. Which of course, is pretty dumb, but still not dumb enough to overlook the fact that 'withdrawal' is a fancy word for 'retreat'.

We're losing this war, and I fear for the worst, but instead of saying as much, I simply say, "If it becomes known that we're not focusing all our efforts on bolstering the districts' defences, and are still willing to invest funds in other aspects, then it might be enough to keep people from panicking in days to come." Sighing, I add, "We should still do something to make the districts more defensible, give the people inside a fighting chance. Dig a trench and install drawbridges maybe?"

"... Do you believe it will come to that?" Luo-Luo's fingers on my chin force me to look up, and after a moment, I open my eyes to see her watching me with concern.

"Defending the districts from Defiled?" Oops. Guess I let my worry show just a bit too much.

"Plan for the worst, hope for the best," I quip, and I see her relax just a bit, but then her eyes flicker towards my desk in a flash of understanding.

"Ah, I see. So that's why you wish to demystify the Martial Path, so more people can take it up to defend themselves." Instead of scoffing or shaking her head at my absurd ideas, Luo-Luo takes it all in stride and nods as if my actions make perfect sense, which is surprising because even I think I'm reaching a bit too far.

"In that case, might I make a suggestion?" Gesturing at my notes while reaching for a small mirror, Luo-Luo says, "You are too fixated on what you do not know. Better to put together what you do know first, then see how it all fits together, like picking which major chords to use before you start composing a symphony, or what colour palette to adhere to for your artwork before putting brush to paper." Holding the mirror up in front of me, she asks, "So what do you think, Lord Husband?

Is this an acceptable hairstyle?" The person looking back at me from the polished silver mirror seems a stranger at first glance, but that's always the case when I catch a glimpse of my youthful face. I still think of me as the other me, even though I can't quite remember what I looked like in my past life, but the more I look into the mirror, the easier it is to pick out my familiar features.

Despite knowing it's my reflection, I can't shake the feeling that I'm looking at a handsome stranger who looks like me, but better. I look... well, regal and stately, with my slightly trimmed hair all slicked, pulled back, and not at all out of sorts as it usually looks. A jewelled hair piece sits atop my head, looking like a circlet meant for a doll that's been repurposed as a hair ornament, and as strange as it sounds, I'm really digging it.

Even though my hair isn't long enough to fill the ornament, it still sits snugly in place and adds an air of refinement and civility to my otherwise rugged demeanour. Throw on some expensive, embroidered robes and a smug sneer and I'd fit right in with 99% of all Imperial Nobility. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that, but I can't really say what I'm thinking, so instead, I go with, "Oh wow! I barely even recognize myself." Which is undeniably true, so it's not my fault if she assumes it's a compliment.

And it sort of is, because I look great like this, but it took a whole five minutes to do and I refuse to put that much effort into my appearance every single day. Plus, I bet the hair goop will feel gross when I wash it out later, which would be an issue if I didn't usually take two baths a day. Regardless of my personal feelings, Luo-Luo made me look presentable, which is almost a miracle.

"Thank you. Not just for the hair, but for... you know... not laughing at my crazy idea to simplify the Martial Path." Beaming in undisguised glee, Luo-Luo strokes my cheek and glances at Ping Ping.

"Lord Husband, you have a veritable miracle of Heaven fast asleep in your lap, while a second miracle hides in the courtyard cherry tree, and these are merely your most recent accomplishments. If you told me you meant to make the sun rise in the west and settle in the east, I would believe it possible, because you are a man beloved by the Heavens and the Mother above." Flattering as her faith is, I'm mildly uncomfortable being... well, worshipped.

That's what I see in Luo-Luo's eyes, and while I've done nothing to purposefully lead her to this conclusion, I still feel like I've somehow bamboozled her into thinking I'm better than I am, and I have no idea what to say or do next. Thankfully, she takes the decision out of my hands as she steps away to pack her things, and I step in to help out of sheer instinct.

Having forgotten Ping Ping was snoozing on my lap, the big girl squeaks as I wake her none too gently by standing without warning, and I'm left with no choice but to let Luo-Luo carry her own things while I cuddle petulant Ping Ping back to sleep. God this sweet turtle is adorable, but even Mama Bun isn't this clingy. Case in point, she's having a snooze out in the grass with Tawny One instead of here demanding cuddles, but considering this is Ping Ping's first day with me in her chibi form, I can't really be mad.

Collecting my papers and inkwell, I bring them with me while escorting Luo-Luo back to her room, because it's the polite thing to do, and not at all because I'm harbouring ulterior motives while my wives are away at war. When she's done putting her things away, I offer to walk her back to the office as well, because there's no way I can get any work done with Ping Ping snoozing in my lap and demanding constant, non-stop pats.

Since she wants to nap, I figured she won't miss me as much, so I leave her in Song's able hands and ignore the tearful gaze and mournful squeaks emanating from the overly attached turtle. They don't last long however, as Song sets the tire swing to swaying once more, and the little girl's squeaks turn cheery and bright before I even reach the manor doors, though they cut off the second I step through the Sound Barrier surrounding the entire place.

That's one thing I love about animals, how quick they are to adapt to new emotions, rarely one to harbour a grudge or dwell over a past wrong. Ping Ping was sad to see me go, but so long as she has someone to keep her company, she won't dwell on my absence and wallow in despair. I could learn from how animals deal with their emotions, but alas, humans aren't built like that. In fact, I think our... not inability, but our ineptitude at dealing with emotions is why we are susceptible to turning Defiled.

Spectres can most certainly influence animals, as I saw firsthand in Ping Ping's Natal Palace, but it's either Demon or nothing with them. There's no such thing as a Defiled animal because animals don't know how to hate without reason.

Sure, some animals learn to despise individuals, but a wolf won't lie in its den thinking about getting revenge on the hunter who hurt him, nor will the chicken imagine enacting justice against the farmer who steals her eggs, and no animal would ever wholly devote their lives to the genocide of another race. People suck. Floofify everything. After dropping Luo-Luo off at the office, I head back to Mom and Dad's house with Kuang Biao in tow, who fumes quietly over being ignored for two weeks.

Since I was in a secret coma he doesn't know about, I say nothing so I don't give the game away and just focus on my footsteps. Usually, I don't even notice it, but after my brush with Zhen Shi, I can't stop noticing the fact that I'm aware of my Spiritual Weapons. It takes an effort of will to keep from turning off the paved paths and walking directly towards them, a route which would take me into the pond and through the now empty cattle ranch.

Upon arriving at my old room, I take in the shattered remains of Peace, Tranquility, and Unity while trying to eyeball how much of the weapons have sloughed away in my absence. Even with this room locked and sealed, the circulation of stagnant air is enough to grind away at the brittle, broken weapons, and one good thump on the wall would probably turn them all to dust.

It's only a matter of time before they're gone for good, but I can't bear to see them go and will do whatever it takes to keep them around for as long as I can. Because they're not just weapons. They're a part of me, or rather, they're a part of who I was. There sits the weapons of the Undying Savage, a Warrior, Warrant Officer, and Number One Talent of his generation. He fought in the Society's Contests and eluded his malicious pursuers, and even bloodied their noses for daring to hunt his people.

Then, he rode to war against the Defiled where he slew the chieftain Vivek Daatei, before breaking free of a Demon's mental prison to form his Natal Palace. He then went on to fight four consecutive duels against some of his strongest peers and rivals, killing three and defeating one through sheer luck and grit.

Months later, during a routine sweep for bandits, he uncovered a Defiled plot in Sanshu and played a pivotal part in the city's harrowing defence, and for his heroic contributions, he was invited to the First Imperial Grand Conference. There, in front of millions of spectators, he emerged victorious in an impromptu sparring tournament and became known all around the Empire as the Number One Talent. He then served on the front lines and led his retinue to kill more Defiled and lose less soldiers than anyone else.

When others left to rest and recuperate, he camped on the fields of Sinuji and defended the fortress from wave after wave of Defiled invaders, and he counted that as a break well earned before venturing forth beyond the front lines once more. And then, in one, disastrous, unfortunate move, he lost everything. No... That's not true. I shattered my Core and lost my Weapons, but I have more now than ever before.

I have a family who loves me, friends who stand up for me, not one, not two, but three women who love me for who I am and a fourth who thinks so highly of me I can't even wrap my head around it. I have a veritable horde of lovable animals who get excited when they see me, and more money than I even know what to do with, so all in all, I have no right to complain about my life. But still... I want to be strong again.

I want to wield Peace, Tranquility, and Unity on the battlefield once more, to fight alongside Yan and Mila, Zian and BoShui, Rustram, Dastan, Jorani, and the rest of my comrades and retinue. As much as I hate bloodshed and suffering, I never feel more alive than I do in combat, because like Zhen Shi said, is that not my purpose? Is this not why I am here? To be fate's instrument in the battle against the Defiled, to stand firm against the Father's foul minions and cast them back from whence they came?

That's how it goes, right? The transmigrated schmuck becomes a hero in his new world and saves everyone from the impending darkness. That's me. I'm the schmuck, and it's high time I save someone instead of just making things worse. Hence, this work ahead of me, to simplify the Martial Path. It's not really so more commoners can become Martial Warriors, it's so I can figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to do to make myself better.

Don't get me wrong, if I come up with a working step by step guide, I'll totally distribute it for free, but my motives are far more selfish than I let on, because I have always been a selfish person. That's why I try to help others when I can, because at the end of the day, this is all about me. I'm the hero of my own story, and I would very much like to be the hero of other stories as well, so it's time to buckle down, put my big brain to work, and come up with a working solution to uncripple my sorry self.

Arranging my notes in a somewhat logical order, I set a blank page in front of me, dip my pen in the inkwell, and begin writing what I know.

"The Core is the powerhouse of the Martial Warrior," it begins, my characters neater and more orderly than ever.

"Without a Core to hold and contain Chi, you are undoubtedly mortal and subject to mortal limits. With a Core however, there are no limits, for Core Creation is the first step on the long and arduous path towards Divinity." The characters fill the page in what feels like the blink of an eye, then a second page, third, and fourth, but still I continue writing what I know about the Martial Path while glossing over what I don't know.

Luo-Luo gave good advice, because even as I write, the answers unravel themselves before me, and I find myself adding notes to previous pages until it becomes easier to start fresh and rewrite everything again. Time passes, but I care not for the minutes or hours of the day, because the only thing that matters is to get the right answers onto the page before I lose them and never find them again.

The pages pile up across my desk until I grow weary of seeing my past mistakes and sweep them all onto the floor, whereupon I feel inspired to start anew without all my previous misconceptions weighing me down.

'The Core is the powerhouse of the Martial Warrior.' That doesn't change, because it seems right and it makes me laugh, but everything else is just wrong. You don't need a Core to use Chi, which is just Heavenly Energy by another name. Anyone can use Heavenly Energy, the issue is doing it on command. There are limits to Heavenly Energy, but not human ones, and there is no need to belittle humanity, because Martial Warriors are nothing without 'mere' mortals to support them.

Balance in all things, because if everyone is super, no one is. Wouldn't that be something? If everyone started on equal footing... My pen scratches across the surface of a half-filled page, but no new words appear. Frowning, I go back and write the same characters again, to the same effect. Dipping my pen in the inkwell, I hear the clink of steel on porcelain, and it takes me a long second of staring and even longer minutes of contemplation to figure out why I can't write anymore.

The inkwell is empty, or dried, or something, and I... I am tired, hungry, and exceedingly uncomfortable. How long was I writing for?

"You are a bold and daring man." Startled out of my stupor, I shoot up into the air and turn to find the Legate reclining on my bed in his Imperial robes, with a book in hand and frown pasted across his too-handsome face. Shen ZhenWu, not the Legate, because even though both are technically correct, Shen ZhenWu is the loftier title.

As I open my mouth to greet him however, I notice the book in his hand is distressingly familiar, with a spine which reads 'Traffic Logs For Shen Huo's Twelfth District', followed by some weird dates and numbers before being punctuated by 'Volume 17'. Which is the cover on my copy of Zhen Shi's notes. Coincidentally, the volume Shen ZhenWu is holding covers experiment 1792, which Not-Gen mentioned while rambling on about my new Path, but that's neither here nor there.

While owning copies of those notes is not exactly illegal, it is frowned upon and grounds for suspicion, and if there's one person I didn't want becoming suspicious of me, it would be Shen ZhenWu. Welp, fuck me. They weren't even helpful, and now I'm in deep shit. Why didn't I return those worthless notes to Fu Zhu Li the second I was done with them? Chapter Meme