The Ancestors were watching over them, of this Jinfeng was sure.

  Not to bestow their blessing or show their favour, but to ensure that this long-awaited mission to return them home would end in success. For too long, their duty had been left unfinished, their obligations unfulfilled, but Sifu Zhang consulted the omens each and every year around this time, and for the last three years, the Classics of Changes advocated caution and patience both. That is until this year, when the signs all pointed to action and opportunity both.

  And nothing else, mind you. The Classics promised nothing of fortune or accomplishment, offered only a chance of success should they choose to seize it, though what that chance might entail was a mystery even to Jinfeng’s wise master. The others saw this as serendipity, for this was their nominal eighteenth year by the lunar calendar, and ten and eight was a homonym for ‘certain fortune’ making this a lucky year for them all. Jinfeng believed otherwise, for luck was merely preparation meeting opportunity, and they had prepared well for this trip. All their practice and training was tailored towards this goal, to ride out into the badlands to retrieve their Ancestors, and they had received full marks in every evaluation they ever undertook.

  Alas, this was no guarantee of success, especially as this marked the fourth year since they left their duty unfulfilled, and four was a homonym for death.

  So which was it? Certain fortune, or certain death? One or the other is what they would find, this was Jinfeng’s interpretation of the omens, but interpreting the Eight Trigrams was less of a science and more of an art. Such was the nature of the Classics of Changes after all, the signs forever in flux as choice met entropy and spiralled off into thousands upon thousands of possibilities, and thus beyond the scope of mortal comprehension. Now that the way forward had been revealed to be beset on all sides by Yao Guai, Jinfeng was all but certain death had come for all of them this night, and perhaps it still might. Several Vanguard had already fallen, and they might soon be accompanied by more, for the powerful magic securing their southern flank could not be sustained any longer.

  A shame, but Jinfeng sensed no fluctuations of magics indicating their erstwhile comrades were preparing any Spells, and no sign that they would do anything besides shoot from their perch on high. These strangers had already done more than could be expected, for one could never count on the kindness of others. Good enough that the people camping up top what Jinfeng had hoped would be the site of their last stand had not opened fire on her cadre instead, as she had inadvertently led the horde right to these people’s doorstep. Were she in their place, she would have long since left, as her cadre had not been silent in their approach, so while she thought them foolish for revealing their presence, she was grateful nonetheless.

  This mission had already been much more difficult than expected, not that they believed it would be anything but. The badlands were forbidden for good reason. They’d all seen the seemingly endless hordes of Yao Guai streaming out of these barren wastes every spring, ravenous beasts one and all intent on stripping the land bare of all life. It was winter now though, with snow falling from the skies and leaving the ground covered in frost, so why were the Yao Guai still so active and alert?”

  She knew full well why. Because two days into their journey, they’d stumbled across a patrol of the alien bugs, and they’d been running and fighting ever since. How many days ago had that been? Difficult to say, as the hours all blended together into a jumbled mess of a harrowing journey Jinfeng would never willingly repeat. Despite splitting into three shifts to ensure two thirds of the team were always resting on Floating Discs, moments of true, soothing sleep were few and far between as the alien bugs harassed them the whole journey from there. Worse was the spitting crawlers that looked so similar to the other alien bugs, as their range capabilities allowed them to herd Jinfeng’s cadre into danger at ever turn. Too clever by far, these Yao Guai of the badlands, showing their age and years of experience. Were it not for Sifu Zhang, they might well have fallen days ago, but after so many years spent under his tutelage, Jinfeng had learned to read him well, and knew he was exhausted of almost all strength and energy.

  And the rest of them? They were running on naught but hopes and prayers, their fatigue overwhelming and Spells all but spent, but Jinfeng fought all the harder for it. This was a tribulation laid down upon them by the Heavens above, one they must overcome to find success beyond, so overcome it they must.

  Of course, not all tribulations were meant to be overcome. They had mounted the tiger however, and as the adage went, they were notoriously difficult to dismount, so they could do naught but stand and fight. “Hold fast,” came the command, one that went without saying, but Jinfeng gave it all the same for there was little else to be said. “Victory is within our grasp.” A lie, but morale was all they had, all that kept them going, so it must be maintained at all costs. After activating the Step of the Wind once more, Jinfeng’s Ki was all but spent now, so best to make it count. The movements came naturally as she dove headlong into the fray, with no need for thought to unleash a flurry of blows while dashing and jumping about. Speed was the essence of strength, and there were few her age faster than Jinfeng. Or stronger for that matter, for the Way of the Open Hand was a deadly art with over six thousand years of history behind it, one which enabled the user to harness their opponent’s Ki to use against them in a gentle yet domineering fashion.

  The alien bugs boasted talons like piercing spears, but those that Jinfeng could not dodge were parried with a single hand, for that which was strong from the front was weak at the sides. Those that jumped lacked the strength of the earth, and thus had it used against them as Jinfeng ducked under two such leaping strikes and retaliated with a rising uppercut from below to send them flying. The next bug skittered low and close to the ground, thinking to strike at an undefended foe, but a Battle Monk was never undefended, for their bodies were weapon and shield both.

  The piercing talons struck true and failed to pierce through her Bronze Skin, but still hurt nonetheless as it drove the air from her lungs. Enough to wring out a pained groan even, one Jinfeng cut short because wasted breath was wasted energy, an expense none could afford in their current plight. To make matters worse, Ao Tian was the one to step in and lend aid, skewering the offending bug with a standard thrust that turned into a sweeping slash that scythed through two more before his sword clattered off the thrusting talons of yet another bug. Though glad to still draw breath, all Jinfeng could think of was how insufferable the arrogant swordsman would be if they made it out of this alive. Already, his ego had grown several sizes thanks to his master’s constant praise, for the Eight-Eyed Swordsman was always quick to call Ao Tian the hidden dragon of their generation, which was bad enough without all the implied connotations.

  For who better to pair with a dragon than the Golden Phoenix herself? Jinfeng was not pleased to owe the repugnant man her life, as she would sooner bite her own tongue off than submit as his wife.

  Perhaps the Heavens would prove merciful and have her killed soon enough, allowing her to escape the debt of obligation she’d only just incurred, but as fortune would have it, the pompous fool went a step too far trying to impress her in the moment, exposing his flank to an unseen bug without the benefit of a Battle Monk’s defenses. A crisis was merely an opportunity riding a dangerous wind, so Jinfeng contracted her legs and sprung forth to dash past Ao Tian with both hands drawn back to her waist. Though lithe of frame and lacking in muscle compared to most men in general, Jinfeng’s strength came not from her arms, or rather not solely from them. She drew her strength from the earth by digging the tips of her toes into the loose dusty soil beneath her and directed up through her ankle, calves, knees, thighs, hips, waist, spine, and shoulders. Then and only then did she add the strength of her arms to the mix as they shot out in tandem to channel all of the power and speed she could muster into the base of her palms.

  Her muscles flexed, tendons tensed, and the bug attacking Ao Tian unravelled before her two-handed strike. Its body exploded in a haze of greyish flesh and black-green ichor, but she pushed onwards alongside her momentum in hopes of killing yet another. Eager as her spirit might be, her body was unable to keep up, as her last wind subsided a half step before the next bug, leaving Jinfeng utterly spent and helpless before those piercing talons plunging towards her midsection.

  The deafening crack of a Bolt sounded out behind her, almost in tandem with the sharp hiss of the projectile passing by. One that struck those piercing talons dead on to shatter them and the bug behind it. This was merely the start though, as the heavens rumbled in fury as more shots followed suit, five rattled off so quickly it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. It wasn’t fast enough to be automatic fire, but still faster than semi-automatic, meaning those booming shots came from six Core revolver, a weapon limited only by the speed of the user thanks to a combination of ingenious engineering and expert craftsmanship that was still out of reach for the Republic.

  Unlike with Jinfeng however, speed was not the essence of an Aetherarm’s strength, and a revolver fired off so quickly would be sorely lacking in precision. Or so she would expect, only to watch with unbelieving eyes as five skittering Yao Guai joined the first in unceremonious death at almost the exact same time. A sixth reeled back to let loose with a vibrating click of pain, having been hit by a through and through. A wound that would see the bug dead soon enough, it simply had yet to realize it. There was no time to wonder if it was a keen eye or fortuitous coincidence that saw the mysterious gunman kill seven Yao Guai in six shots, for there was only a brief pause before six more shots rang out and proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the gunman was aiming to kill multiple bugs as each Bolt killed two or three of the little skittering Ferals a piece.

  Then it happened a third time with a quieter revolver that failed to pierce through its first target on two shots. Still impressive enough to make Jinfeng question the reality of it all and check for Illusions, but the telltale omens of deceptive magics afoot were nowhere to be found. The sound of her comrade’s struggles and cries were all synched to their motions, and the audio cues remained even after they were out of sight. There were few shadows to be seen, but the dust clouds were logically arranged without the random chaos of a haphazard impression. Her ribs still ached from where she’d been struck earlier, and there was no sense of the effortless innervation that came from moving within an Illusion.

  So no. This was not some delusion that had been forced upon her, but the legitimate reality in which she found herself as the hairs on her neck stood up in alarm in response to the torrent of magic coalescing before her.

  Never one to share the spotlight, Ao Tian was already pushing forward to take advantage of this sudden lull. Snagging the collar of his greatcoat as he darted past, Jinfeng pulled him back and away just in time to avoid the incandescent conflagration that erupted in front of them, a Widened Fireball that had been readied in advance and unleashed into the packed crowd of hesitant bugs who had only just stalled their advance before the rapid-fire pistol fire that killed so many of their kin. The timing was impeccable, and once again, Jinfeng was left in disbelief because she could not bring herself to believe how one person could be so… capable. Hitting multiple targets in a line typically only occurred by happenstance, but this gunman had aimed to do just that. Not merely once or twice, but almost a dozen times in total, killing so many of the Feral bugs in the blink of an eye that he gave them reason to think twice.

  Not an easy feat that, striking fear into the heart of Yao Guai and cause them to bunch together as the forerunners faltered and slowed the bugs behind them to create a gridlock on the battlefield. What’s more, the deliberate timing and placement of his readied Metamagicked Spell showed that he’d been expecting just such an outcome when he strode into battle, which among other things, spoke volumes to an arrogance that outstripped even Ao Tian’s overblown ego. Then again, arrogance was confidence undeserved, and despite having only just made a move, the gunman had already proven himself more than deserving.

  Though battle was still upon them, Jinfeng could not help but glance away from the fight to steal a glance at their formidable benefactor, only for her heart to skip a beat as she saw the telltale trappings of an American desperado draped about the frame of a Son of the Republic. No wide hat or oversized, ill-fitting coat could hide his ancestry, and there was only one such Vanguard on the Frontier who dressed himself in the fashion of the white devils. The True Dragon of their generation, the fabled Firstborn and Yellow Devil they’d all grown up hearing tales about, for while the young soldiers of the Republic were still in training, the Firstborn was already out making a name for himself as only a man of his caliber could.

  And even then, they’d all underestimated his prowess, which the Firstborn demonstrated for them all to see as he skated across the jagged, uneven ground atop a Floating Disc with rifle in hand. Propelling himself to speeds unmatched with one boot pushing off the ground, he stepped up onto the Floating Disc and let his momentum carry him forward into the swarm while screaming his senseless American battle-cry of, “Yee-Haw!” A deep and resonant burst of metallic air sounded soon after as his rifle lit up at point blank range and shredded the bugs before him with a conical Blast and cleared his path long enough for him to step down and kick off the ground once more to accelerate himself even faster. Shoot and kick, shoot, and kick, he repeated it again and again and again as he carved his way through the swarm with Blastgun in hand, donning a gleam in his eye and a grin etched on his face that gave away just how much he was enjoying himself.

  It was as if this were all a game as opposed to a life and death battle in the heart of the Yao Guai homeland, a game in which he was wholly confident of victory.

  Jinfeng was the Golden Phoenix, a hard-won title she earned with her skills and potential, but the Yellow Devil had not earned his place as the Dragon of this generation. The General had simply bestowed the title upon him earlier this year after hearing tales of his exploits in Brightpick and Pleasant Dunes, and many, Jinfeng included, believed the turncoat undeserving. The stories were so fanciful they had to be fabrications, propaganda put forth by the war-hungry Federation meant to strike fear and doubt into the hearts of all faithful Sons and Daughters of the Republic.

  How could one man, even the Firstborn who was most senior among them, possibly be so skilled? He fended off bandits, hunted down murders, eliminated a manufacturer of outlawed explosives, and waged war against the criminal underworld. All in the last year no less, just as the Vanguard was beginning to expand their territory on the Frontier and encroach upon Federal borders. The Americans’ lies were so transparent, even a child could see through them, only now Jinfeng realized she had eyes but could not see Mount Tai. She never should have questioned the General, because if he believed the tales, then they had to be true. It wasn’t that she looked down on the General, she merely believed he was using the Firstborn as a whetstone for the younger generation, giving them a goal to surpass even if the turncoat’s accomplishments were all lies.

  Then again, perhaps not, because if anything, the stories of the Firstborn were understated, the loss of a hand aside. His first six shots had only penetrated to strike a second target once because he lacked the proper angle for a through and through, as he must have opened fire while still on his way down from up top of the rock formation. Meaning that even without stable footing, he was deadly accurate with his guns, hitting the comparatively small Feral bugs centre mass from almost 40 metres away while narrowly avoiding Jinfeng and her countrymen. Even up close, his deadly accuracy came into play as he picked his shots to maximize the coverage of his heavily Metamagicked Blastgun and kill as many targets as possible with each and every shot.

  Whilst skating deeper and deeper into enemy lines, a thought that made Jinfeng straighten up in alarm. Turncoat though he might be, she could not allow the Firstborn to fall here, for she would not live indebted to a Yellow Devil who disregarded his people for so many years. Still gripping Ao Tian’s collar firmly, she dragged him forward alongside her with the intent to charge headlong into the fray and ease pressure off the Firstborn. The command was on the tip of her tongue even, though she swallowed her worlds soon enough, when the traitor cackled as he unleashed his sixth and final Blast while bringing his Floating Disc Spell skidding to a halt in the middle of a swarm of Feral bugs charging in at him from all sides.

  And laugh he should, because the Yao Guai had played right into his hands as he raised his arm high into the air and drew it back with a calm grace Jinfeng envied, for were she in his place surrounded on all sides by Yao Guai bounding towards her, she could not see herself maintaining that level of calm for two and a half seconds. Though it was not a long period of time, it was not short either, not when there were fangs, talons, and barbed projectiles hurtling towards him from all directions as he’d gone in deep enough to be threated by the spitting crawlers that had plagued Jinfeng’s cadre for so many days.

  The second Fireball was not as effective as the first, and yet still a sight to behold as the Firstborn dropped it right at his feet in complete and utter disregard for his own safety. Even though the Spell was Metamagicked to exclude the immediate area around him, that would do nothing to block the transmission of heat as the air ignited and turned the badlands incandescent for a brief, blinding moment in which the only sound that could be heard was his laugh. A riotous, undignified cackle it was, the laugh of a mannerless scoundrel or unhinged madman, but one who knew his bloody work well as he held his ground amidst a pile of charred corpses and set to reloading his Blastgun one shell at a time with fearless impunity.

  Still intent on setting forth to support him, Jinfeng barely made it two steps before she realized her efforts were better spent elsewhere, because the Firstborn had things well in hand. While his actions might appear reckless and ill-advised, his awareness was not to be underestimated, nor could his prowess be denied. Undeterred by the death of their comrades, or perhaps spurred to greater heights because of them, the Feral bugs pushed forward in record time hoping to take out the greatest threat on the battlefield. They had their work cut out for them however, as two more handguns appeared out from under his coat, thick, powerful Blastguns cut down to the size of a sizable revolver. Carried by two glowing, spectral hands, the Firstborn barely looked up as he unleashed hell with a pull of a trigger, slamming home shells into his rifle’s cylindrical chamber one at a time while his Mage Hands alternated between the two giant Blastgun pistols to clear away any Ferals that got too close without so much as batting an eye.

  Nerves of steel. There was no other way to describe it, and Jinfeng marvelled at how the blood ran true. Though he comported himself with the air of a ruffian, the Firstborn’s calm and level-headed actions exuded a valiant presence unmatched by anyone besides the General. It showed in his smile as he watched his Mage Hands clear away the chaff while using himself as bait, only to effortless zip away on his Floating Disc once their guns clicked dry, whereupon he started shooting at the swarm from a safe distance as his Mage Hands set to reloading. All while gliding effortless about no less, using only momentum and his centre of gravity to control the Floating Disc beneath his feet and making the scurrying Ferals look graceless and ungainly in comparison. Silly too, because the moment they overextended to try and trap him in, he’d zip away out of reach, or punish them for gathering up in too tight of a group as he changed up the spread of his Blastgun on the fly to achieve maximum effect with each and every shot.

  There wasn’t anything particularly astonishing about any one thing he did, outside of his impeccable marksmanship. Even then, his accuracy wasn’t anything supernatural, as he placed his shots centre mass every time and sometimes had to shoot a single Feral twice, when a headshot would all but ensure a one-shot kill each and every time. Easier said than done of course, but somehow, his demeanour made her believe he could have managed it if he cared to try, all because of how he oozed amused arrogance from every pore of his body as he tore through the swarm chunk by bloody chunk.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Which was what made it all so very remarkable, how seemingly unremarkable the Firstborn appeared, yet somehow was still able to carry the day in a manner that looked so incredibly easy. It was all standard hit and run tactics, albeit in a much tighter area since he stayed close to the swarm to use himself as bait and leaving the stragglers for Jinfeng’s cadre to tear apart. His movements were textbook and bog standard, utilizing the Floating Disc under his feet to move at speeds beyond what his feet could carry him, but he did it with such ease and precision you would think he spent more time gliding about than walking. Given his abundance of ammunition and Aetherarms, you might also be made to believe anyone could do what he did so long as they had the same equipment, until you took a closer look and saw how quickly he reloaded his weapons without any need to look or fumble about. Or how he chose his routes with little more than a quick glance, determining where to run and where to fight in an instant without having to think or hesitate. Or realized that he was doing all of this while placing all his shots centre mass using three guns at the same time.

  That right there, that calm, casual competence is what set the Firstborn apart. He wasn’t as fast as Jinfeng, or domineering as Ao Tian, and in fact seemed to pale in comparison to many of her cadre in terms of martial prowess. As for his mastery of the Arcane, his usage of Fireball displayed incredible acumen and tactical precision, but the ability to cast the Spell itself wasn’t exactly remarkable in and of itself. There were plenty of Third Order Spellcasters among the Novices present, and the Firstborn lacked the bronze triangular pins every Magus was entitled to wear. A proud peacock like him wouldn’t give up on the chance to show off his skills, so he couldn’t be all that far ahead, at most in possession of two Third Order Spells same as Jinfeng. Perhaps even only the one, similar to Ao Tian and the others, as there was a marked jump in difficulty between Second and Third Order Spells. Either way, two casts appeared to have pushed the Firstborn to his limits, as he did not cast Fireball a third time even though he had plenty of opportunity to do so.

  All in all, Jinfeng could name a dozen Novices who could easily outmatch the Firstborn in terms of raw skill and prowess, including herself and Ao Tian beside her. So how was it possible for this seemingly unremarkable traitor to not only survive against the Feral swarm for so long, but run them in circles and whittle them down in a calm and controlled manner which few could match? None of the Novices, that much was sure, and even most veteran Vanguards wouldn’t be able to pull this off as smoothly and without error. Not without a Spell to hold the Yao Guai’s attention, but the Yellow Devil needed no such magics as he brought the vast majority of the swarm about on a merry chase, holding their attention captive by simply knowing just how to offer himself up as bait too tempting to pass up.

  Were she in his place, would she fare as well? A question Jinfeng asked herself as she set upon the Yao Guai who’d gotten too distracted to keep chasing the Firstborn. Most certainly not on both counts, she decided, wryly noting how she only had time to consider all of this because of the Firstborn. The Ferals were still swarming in from all fronts, but they came for her cadre piecemeal as they broke off from the chase in a slow and steady trickle Better to say that the Firstborn directed them over, stringing the Feral forerunners further and further ahead while allowing the stragglers to escape his net without any one of them noticing what he was up to.

  All of which was easy to say, yet it was a game of centimetres with all their lives on the line, the Firstborn’s included. Jinfeng couldn’t even imagine coming close to this level of success, as she was fully capable of engaging the swarm or outpacing to run away, but to herd Yao Guai like shepherds herding lingniu back home. Ferocious, murderous lingnu intent on devouring him whole, yet the Firstborn’s smile never slipped or grew strained as he led them about on a merry chase.

  While keeping Jinfeng’s cadre in his line of sight at all times no less. The turncoat was clever, competent, and frighteningly cautious too, with a cold gaze that shone through his Darkvision googles every time they turned this way, and she was no longer so certain he’d reached his limits for Spellcasting. She found herself combing her memory for the telltale signs of the Firstborn readying a third Fireball, but who could say if a raised fist was a Somatic Spell component or a signal to his allies up on the rock formation?

  Odd that, for the Firstborn to be camped on the very rock formation Jinfeng thought to make her last stand. The surrounding areas had long since been scouted out by their forerunners and forefathers, and the rock formation made for the perfect ambush or fallback point. It was the Ancestor’s guidance that had brought them here, for had she not known of this defensible position, they would never have crossed paths with the Firstborn before falling victim to the Feral bugs’ relentless pursuit.

  The Classics of Changes worked in mysterious ways. Working her way back through the dates, Jinfeng discovered that the Firstborn was here a full day earlier than expected. The plan had always been to meet him atop the mesa, to show strength while offering mercy in order to secure his cooperation, but now that he’d saved them, Jinfeng no longer had any leverage to work with. A trial to overcome soon after this one, though it would take some doing. There were far more than a hundred bugs present, and as the minutes passed by in mind-numbing lethargy, Jinfeng felt her limbs grow heavy and weak as she killed bug after bug after bug with fist and foot.

  Her comrades where here to support her of course, but they were all fighting on the front lines and lending strength to the cause. All besides the auxiliary personnel of course, though most had taken up weapons from the fallen and held them at the ready should the need arise. A failing on her part, for things should never have gotten this out of hand under her command. She would atone for her failure soon enough, but with luck, she would return home in success bearing the corpses of their forefathers so that they might be entombed in the mausoleum of Republic heroes like they so richly deserved.

  Alongside those who fell in the process of returning them home of course, though several were lost to the Yao Guai along the way. The Council of Elders would use that against her, and in turn, against the General who supported her, a failing she would not allow. Bad enough for her failures to sit heavy on her shoulders, but to use her as a weapon against the General? Unforgivable. Better she die in disgrace than return home in shame, though victory in all things would be far more preferrable.

  Lungs burning and heart heavy, Jinfeng gave her all to the fight and shut out all other thoughts, because to do otherwise would be to forfeit her life. Despite all their best efforts the Ferals were still coming on strong, dying in droves to the swords and spears of the Vanguard and caring not in the least for the losses sustained, for the alien minds of the Yao Guai knew that so long as they held Jinfeng’s cadre in place, then others would come along to clean things up.

  As if on cue, the ground rumbled and erupted in a spray of dirt not 30 meters away, and her heart sank at the sight of a half dozen armoured centipedes bursting out from the bowels of the earth. There were many more to follow surely, but how many she could not tell, not before the entrance exploded in a fiery burst of light that illuminated the surroundings for a brief, incandescent moment before dimming down to an orange red glow as the tunnel entrance and Yao Guai within it were lit ablaze. The Firstborn’s work, having stowed his Blastgun in exchange for a bespoke and meticulously crafted rifle, a true work of art in wood, steel, and Orichalcum. The blue-gold glows of the Metamagic Runes pulsed with life as the Firstborn hurled something into the air in a seemingly random direction, only to take aim and let loose with a smouldering Bolt that smashed into the hurled bottle, one which exploded same as the first just over a second tunnel as it was opening up.

  A testament to his skills as a Diviner, and Jinfeng could only imagine what a soldier like the Firstborn could do if he mastered the ways of the Classics of Changes. It was a Diviner’s tool after all, one developed by the Venerable Tian Zi Himself for use with his famed Magical Artifact, the Book of Changes. Alongside the exercises of the Sinew Transformation Methods practiced by the true elites of the Vanguard, the Classics and the Methods represented the holy teachings passed down by the Venerable One so that the Republic could thrive for another ten thousand years. By denying the Firstborn his place among the Vanguard, the Traitor Ming had done his son a grave disservice. The Firstborn already stood at the forefront of his generation, but think of how far he could have progressed if he’d been taught the Classics and Methods by the General himself.

  There was nothing to be done besides let nature take its course now, but Jinfeng lamented the Republic’s loss. Instead of the Imperial Dragon to lead the generation, the burden had fallen largely on her shoulders as the Golden Phoenix, though she much preferred the less formal epithet of Second Sister. To make matters worse, she had no choice but to contend with the Yellow Devil now, because to admit inferiority to a turncoat trained by foreign devils would strike a grave blow to Republic morale. Or perhaps not, for the General would surely say that the Yellow Devil was still the Imperial Dragon even if he had abandoned his post, and Jinfeng could only marvel at the mysterious workings of fate. Yellow Devil (Huang Mo) and Imperial Dragon (Huang Long) differed only by a single character, yet the vast disparity between the Yellow Devil before them and the Imperial Dragon he should have become was a chasm greater even than the Divide.

  His casual disregard of Republic lives only pained Jinfeng all the more, though it was hardly fair to blame him for her failures. Still, had he brought out his incendiary weapons earlier, they could have all dealt with the swarm much easier and had a moment to breathe and find a more defensible location before the tunnellers emerged from the ground. The Firstborn cared not for the blood spilled on these plains however, only ruthless efficiency as he used his burn bottles sparingly. Not that he was sorely lacking, as he withdrew them one by one by one from under his jacket, totalling a full ten such weapons from start to finish. With them, he could have dealt with the swarm and still had some to spare, but he was not done yet, for even as the tunnellers sprayed out dirt and stone to extinguish the flames, he stood waiting to greet them with a comically oversized steel revolver in one hand and a capsule in the other.

  Which he then threw as the armoured, multilegged slugs pulled themselves out from the ground, only for it to erupt in blinding white light that left Jinfeng seeing dark spots for long seconds after the fact.

  Many of her comrades suffered the same effect and paid dearly for it, as the Yao Gaui they were facing had their backs turned to the light. Nor did they have Sifu Zhang to serve as their protector, who stepped forward to shield Jinfeng from the press of Feral bug bodies still intent on claiming their lives. Success or failure was still yet undecided, for the Firstborn was now too busy dealing with the larger Yao Guai to string the smaller ones along. While the bulk still pursued him across the craters and ridges, a sizeable force had since turned upon Jinfeng’s cadre, who were already hard pressed to stand firm against the swarm. Now the bugs were coming on too quickly for her tired comrades to handle, and she feared that by the time the Firstborn returned from dealing with his half of the Ferals, she might no longer have a cadre to lead anymore, and no chance at all of competing with the Dragon for the title of Seniormost Novice of the Generation.

  And if he could return in time to save her cadre, then she would have no qualms about calling him Seniormost Brother, or even submitting to become the phoenix to his dragon and temper his strength with her grace.

  A strumming chord sounded out from behind her, from tinny a musical instrument of all things, and Jinfeng could not help but turn to see a woman with cornsilk hair, sapphire eyes, and a golden circlet embedded into her forehead. The Firstborn’s milk mother, a woman deserving of respect for her service to the Republic even if she was a foreign devil same as the rest. Though she had a Blastgun rifle twin to the Firstborn’s slung across her shoulders and a revolver sat prominently on her hip, she instead strummed away at the instrument with both hands while striding forward onto the battlefield without so much as a care in the world. Amidst the trilling, chittering battle cries of the bloodthirsty Yao Guai and screams of the dead, dying, and unobliging Vanguard of Jinfeng’s cadre, the Firstborn’s milk mother raised her voice in song at this most inopportune of times.

  Or it would be if not for the torrent of magic summoned up by her song, an invigorating melody which washed over Jinfeng to ease away her fatigue before she could even think to defend herself. Though gratified by the support, she was similarly horrified by the implication, for this stranger, this foreign devil of a woman, had simply walked up and manipulated Jinfeng’s emotions with magic as easily as turning a hand. The possibilities were terrifying to even consider, because here on the battlefield, she should have been guarded against such foreign interference, and yet the Firstborn’s milk mother had pierced through all of her defenses with a powerful, Third Order Enchantment using little more than a direct approach and disarming smile.

  Just think what this woman could have done had she any nefarious intent. Even though the Enchantment was a beneficial one, how was Jinfeng to know until after the Spell took effect? It could easily have been an attack or a charm, a distraction to hold her attention until some Yao Guai’s talons pierced through her flesh, but she simply allowed the magic to rush past her defenses without so much as a hint of resistance. The mark of a true Enchantress, and Jinfeng’s heart skipped a beat when the other woman met her eyes with a smile, for she feared her thoughts were laid bare to this more alluring of Aberrants.

  Perhaps the Traitor Ming was not entirely at fault then, and the General was right to say that the Firstborn had been misled and misguided. With someone powerful as this Enchantress serving as his milk mother, who knew what insidious magics had been laid upon him when he was but a babe in the crib. The Federation were not beyond such actions, because for all their talk of freedom and democracy, they were more than happy to consign Vanguard and foreigners alike to a lifetime of slavery in their horrific prison camps and experiment with mind altering magics and drugs both. Perhaps their leaders saw the value in a propaganda mouthpiece like the Firstborn and placed this milk mother alongside him to ensure his compliance. It made as much sense as anything else with regard to the Firstborn these days, for neither Jinfeng nor the General himself could understand what the Federation was trying to do by Exiling the Firstborn from the town he grew up in.

  A ploy to lure a Vanguard team deep into Federal territory perhaps, or possibly even the General himself, for everyone knew his two greatest regrets were his inability to protect his beloved younger sister and bring his honoured nephew home to take his rightful place as the Imperial Dragon of his generation.

  Regardless of the political undercurrents muddying the situation, Jinfeng was gratified for the assist, so she cupped her fist and bowed her head towards the Firstborn’s milk mother before returning to the fight with renewed strength. A deception of self, no doubt, for her body was still flagging yet, her lungs burning and head light as she dove into the fray once more, but the magic of the music coursed through her veins to mask the pain and lethargy she might otherwise feel. It wasn’t just a one and done Spell, as the Firstborn’s milk mother maintained her efforts while singing her song to bolster the hearts and arms of Jinfeng’s cadre, Imbueing them with a much-needed boost of vigor and focus to see them through this fight.

  While putting herself in danger no less, having come down from the safety of the rock formation to cover them in her short-ranged Support Spell, so Sifu Zhang moved to stand guard for the woman and ensure that no harm would come to her so long as he drew breath. The Firstborn would appreciate it no doubt, for he was a man who valued loyalty, even if he gave his to the wrong people. She’d seen as much firsthand all those years ago, when she had the opportunity to accompany the General in fetching the long-lost nephew he’d only just learned about. The Firstborn only had eyes for his traitor of a father and cared nothing for the blood of his mother’s blood, which struck a cruel blow to the General who’d rushed over so quickly to retrieve him. Others never saw it, but as Second Sister to the Novices and thus the eldest daughter of the Republic in his ward, she was privy to some things regarding the General that few others would ever see, and the tears he shed upon receiving the news of his sister and nephew would forever haunt Jingfei’s memories. That was the day she learned that the General was still yet a man, one who shouldered the Peoples’ future without complaint for almost two decades now, and had no family of his own besides his brothers, sisters, and children of the Republic.

  Which was why even though her mission would always come first, Jinfeng hoped against all hope that she might use this opportunity to speak further with the Firstborn and perhaps convince him to return to his place among his people. It was only right after all, and even if he were not so outstanding a soldier, his presence within the Republic would prove a great boon to them all if all he did was raise the General’s spirits.

  That was neither here nor there however, as she focused on the fight and conserved as much of her newfangled strength as she could. There would be a price to pay for this Spell, one that would no doubt leave them feeling even more tired and fatigued, and Jingfei could not help but wonder if the Firstborn’s milk mother had done so intentionally to weaken them after the battle. If so, then she was as cunning as the Firstborn himself, perhaps even more so because now Jinfeng owed her a debt that could not be so easily repaid. The Firstborn saving their lives was only right and proper, for they were one people under the Republic after all, but this foreign woman had no obligation to help, and yet placed herself in danger to do so.

  Lashing out at a bug with a growl, Jinfeng snapped its neck before stomping it flat into the ground, just brimming with extra energy from holding back for so long. However, as she glanced around in search of her next target, she found her cadre cleaning up and tending to the wounded while the milk mother continued to sing on. “Come,” Jinfeng commanded, waving at Ao Tian and Hu Die, her left and right hand respectively, though she could do without the former. “Gather up the Vanguard still able to fight. We move to support the Firstborn.”

  Who came zipping back out of the darkness even as the words left her lips. He looked none the worse for wear stood atop his Floating Disc, his rifle stowed and Blastgun at the ready while his glowing Mage Hands flanked him with weapons of their own on either side. His cold and casual pan over what remained of Jingfei’s cadre betrayed not a hint of emotion, and she marvelled at how someone who’d grown up fully apart from the General could share so many of the same mannerisms. Though straight backed, there was no tension in the Firstborn’s posture, with a minor slump to his shoulders that spoke of complete and utter relaxation, and yet there was a vigilance to his laid-back manner that put her in mind of a gryphikin ready to strike. Regal was the word for it, or perhaps lofty and detached, a man who stood above most others and knew it well enough to feel no need to flaunt it.

  “Looks like most you made it out in one piece.” In stark contrast to his bearing, the Firstborn’s diction was sorely lacking, and it took Jingfei a moment to parse his meaning together, barely able to understand his heavily accented drawl. “Best y’all get gone then little doggies, because I still got plenty of shells and Spells left to me, and a real hankerin’ to use ‘em.”

  “Howie,” the milk mother said, finally putting an end to her Spell and her music as she strode over with a frown. “That ain’t no way to treat a stranger in need. They got injured and children with them, so we can’t just be sendin’ them out.”

  “It’s them or us,” he replied, without looking at the milk mother and fixing his steely gaze on Sifu Zhang instead, who closed his eyes, lowered his head, and raised a palm in quiet meditation so as to avoid giving way before the Yellow Devil or butting heads with the Imperial Dragon. “This ain’t over yet, not by a long shot, so best we stop jawin’ and head on out lickity split before another wave of Abby come a callin’.” Still glaring daggers at Sifu Zhang, the Firstborn scowled over being ignored, unaware of how Jingfei bristled over being ignored in the same fashion and kept out of the conversation.

  So she introduced herself to the Firstborn, to open up a dialogue where there was none. “This humble Novice is Jinfeng, Second Sister to all. On behalf of my cadre and the Republic, I thank you for your assistance.”

  “Don’t want your thanks,” the Firstborn drawled, without so much as sparing a glance. “I want y’all gone, but you can stay if you like so long as you don’t get in our way.” Rudely shouldering Sifu Zhang as he pushed past, the Firstborn kept his head on a swivel and said, “C’mon Aunty Ray. Time we made ourselves scarce.”

  “Howie,” the woman began, but in a show of appalling manners, the Firstborn cut her off.

  “No.” His tone left no room for argument, and were it anyone else, Jinfeng suspected he would have ended the statement there, but he still had manners enough to behave before his milk mother. “We gonna have trouble enough looking after ourselves, so we can’t spare nothin’ lookin’ after anyone else. They came out here of their own volition, so it ain’t no skin off my back if they die here.”

  “We came here for the express purpose of meeting with you,” Jinfeng began, only for the words to freeze in her throat as the Firstborn’s gaze snapped onto her. In that moment, her many years of gruelling training and arduous work failed her for the first time, as she quailed before the unbridled fury of the Firstborn before her.

  When he raised his gun, she could not say, nor could she explain how his Mage Hands could move so quickly to cover the Vanguard standing around him, all of whom froze in place at the sudden show of aggression. Their own Aetherarms paled in comparison to his oversized pistol Blastguns, even if her cadre still had ammunition to fire them, but the Firstborn’s ammunition satchels were still plump and full as could be. Staring down the chrome barrel of his monstrosity of a revolver, Jinfeng’s blood ran cold to hear the barely restrained bloodlust in his tone. “So that’s what this is then?” he asked moving in close with no regard for her strength because he knew she would die before she ever touched him. “You and yours get tired of waitin’, and come here to finish the job?” The cold metal of his gun kissed her gently on her chin, and she took a long, shuddering breath as she watched her life flash before her eyes. “Lemme guess,” he said, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Your daddy is one of them bodies buried up on the mesa, and now you here for revenge. That about right?”

  “No,” Jingfei responded, and she hated how scared and weak her voice sounded, a hair’s breath from pleading here in front of her cadre. Beside her, Ao Tian and Hu Die both inched ever so slightly forward, so she slowly raised her arms to bar their path for fear the Firstborn would kill both out of hand. “This is Ao Tian, Third Brother, and Hu Die, Fourth Sister. Their fathers are as you say buried up on the mesa, alongside the father of a few other Novices behind us, and we have come to ask that you allow us the courtesy of bringing their bodies home to be entombed.”

  “I’ll allow you the courtesy of not killin’ y’all dead where you stand.” The Firstborn’s rage threatened to bubble over as he pressed his gun hard against her chin until she was stood up on her toes. “Would hate to waste all the effort I gone to saving your sorry hides in the first place. If I see you again though?”

  The Firstborn leaned in close, his nose mere centimetres from her as he looked deep into her eyes and Ao Tian growled to see it. A mistake that, making noise before he acted, because a Mage Hand lashed out and struck him hard with the butt of its pistol and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. This was no standard Cantrip then, though she’d already known as much before when she saw them unleashing Blast after Blast after Blast, but how he was able to maintain them so well was a marvel to be sure. “I’ll kill y’all dead,” the Firstborn continued, as if Ao Tian’s attempted intervention never took place. “Every last one of you here, men, women, and children. Believe that girlie, because the only reason you and yours are still drawin’ breath is that you ain’t worth the brass spent to kill ye.”

  Though close enough for her to strike, the Firstborn lowered his weapon and looked away to spit down at her feet, a blatant show of disregard and disrespect, but Jinfeng knew better than to make a move. That’s what he was waiting for, a reason to kill her where she stood, and kill her he would since he still had his gun in hand. So she stood statue still with her arms still outstretched to signal to her cadre to keep back, and counted the seconds until the Firstborn spoke again. “Now fuck on off out of my sight before I get to feelin’ fancy and start spendin’ with no regard to the cost.”

  Most impressive of all was how the man stalked away in reverse, guiding his frowning milk mother back towards the ramp without letting Jinfeng or her cadre out of his sight. Were you to draw a line in the dirt, it’d be straight as an arrow and lead right to where he needed to go, a daunting display of spatial awareness that most would overlook. More impressive was how the hatred in his eyes burned bright even through the reflective glass of his goggles. A formidable man, the Firstborn was, truly deserving to be the Dragon of this generation, and Jingfei could do naught but watch him leave, because she dared not risk his wrath.

  Another manner in which he and the General were so shockingly similar, all calm and cold until their passions were lit to reveal their fury as a true spectacle to behold. Much like the General, the Firstborn would require a soft approach to speak with, and though she wished it were otherwise, there was none better for this than Jinfeng. For though the General was akin to a Father to them all, he treated her like his true flesh-and-blood daughter, so she knew full well how to navigate his volatile temper.

  A skill which in theory should translate to the Firstborn, but Americans were an unruly and unpredictable lot, and the Firstborn was far more American than he was Qinese.