Chapter 18: The Beast Tide Awakens
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The land lay quiet at dawn, yet the silence was deceptive. The rivers still flowed, the trees still swayed, and the golden fields of Wei Shan's harvest gleamed beneath the first light of morning. Yet beneath this beauty, Khan felt a tremor. It was not in the soil, nor the wind, but within the pulse of fate itself.
He rose from meditation, sweat clinging to his brow. The Fate Dragon coiled above him, restless, scales flashing with sharp silver light. It was warning him.
Khan stepped outside the sovereign's hall. Already, the Iron Guard had assembled in the square. Zhao Yun stood before them, his armor freshly polished, his spear glinting. His gaze was grim, though steady.
"Your Majesty," Zhao Yun reported, bowing with fist to chest, "the scouts have returned. The beastmen gather in the Blackpine forest. Not dozens. Not hundreds. Thousands."
Whispers rippled among the guards, but none dared break formation.
"How long?" Khan asked, voice low.
"By sundown, they will be upon us," Zhao Yun replied. "A tide, driven by some chieftain with the power to unite them."
The Fate Dragon growled again, confirming his words.
Inside the council hall, the ministers gathered swiftly. Mei Ling laid out her scrolls, ink trembling slightly in her hand. "We are not prepared for such a tide," she said. "Even with Zhao Yun's Iron Guard, we number barely five hundred trained warriors. Against thousands of beastmen, this will be a slaughter."
Wei Shan slammed his palm onto the table, shaking the room. "If they come like a flood, then we become the dam that breaks them! Our walls are strong, our granaries full, and our people no longer the weaklings they once were. I say let them try!"
Khan's gaze drifted to the map Mei Ling had sketched. Red marks spread across the northern forest like a spreading disease. He knew well the meaning of this assault—it was a trial. A true test of whether Great Qing would rise as empire, or be crushed as a footnote.
"Fear not," Khan said at last. His tone was calm, but beneath it burned the fire of command. "We are not the prey. The heavens did not raise Great Qing only for it to perish in its cradle. If the beast tide comes, then let it be broken here. Let this day be the foundation upon which we build our empire."
Preparations began immediately.
Zhao Yun drilled the Iron Guard until sweat drenched their armor, yet no man faltered. Spears were sharpened with care, shields reinforced with iron bands. War horns were tested, their calls echoing across the hills.
Wei Shan oversaw the stockpiling of stones and boiling oil upon the walls. Villagers too old or too young to fight carried supplies, mended armor, and prayed at the altars of fate. The very air of Great Qing seemed to thrum with unity.
Mei Ling, meanwhile, gathered the children and elders. Her voice rose like a song, weaving courage into their hearts. "Remember this day," she told them. "For when your grandchildren speak of Great Qing, they will say: Here we stood. Here we endured. Here we became eternal."
And at the center of it all, Khan stood upon the walls, watching the horizon darken.
By dusk, the howls began.
From the forest poured shadows—beastmen with fur, tusks, and claws, wielding crude axes and spiked clubs. Their eyes glowed crimson in the fading light, their roars shaking the earth. The tide was endless, a living wave crashing against the defenses of Great Qing.
War drums thundered from within their ranks, a savage rhythm that sought to break human courage before the first clash.
But from the walls of Great Qing, the Iron Guard answered with their own thunder. Shields slammed, spears struck the ground in unison, and war horns bellowed across the plains.
The Fate Dragon above the wall roared, its ethereal body stretching across the sky. Its light washed over the warriors, steadying their hearts.
"Hold!" Zhao Yun's voice rang. "Hold the line until the command is given!"
The beastmen surged forward, a chaotic mass of snarling bodies. Arrows loosed from the walls, raining death upon them, but still they came, trampling their own dead.
When the first beastman reached the wall, claws scraping the stone, Khan raised his hand. The dragon's eyes blazed.
"Now!"
Boiling oil cascaded down. Stones the size of boulders crashed into the enemy. The first ranks of beastmen screamed, torn apart, yet the horde pressed on.
"Qing will not fall!" Zhao Yun roared, leaping from the wall. His spear became lightning, piercing through a beastman chieftain in a single thrust. The Iron Guard surged after him, voices unified in a war cry that shook heaven itself.
The battlefield became chaos.
Steel clashed with claw. Blood stained the earth. Khan himself descended into the fray, the Fate Dragon swirling around him like a storm. Every sweep of his blade cleaved beastmen in two, every strike of his will crushed their spirits.
Wei Shan fought like a mountain unleashed, his great axe shattering shields and skulls alike. "Come then!" he bellowed. "Test your strength against Great Qing!"
Mei Ling, from the rear, wove incantations inscribed with fate. Her words burned like fire in the soldiers' ears, turning fear into fury, despair into unbreakable resolve.
Yet for every beastman slain, more poured forth. The tide seemed endless, an ocean of bodies seeking to drown the rising empire.
And then, through the chaos, a roar unlike the others shook the battlefield.
From the heart of the horde emerged a beast unlike any other. Twice the height of a man, covered in obsidian fur, with horns that curved like blades. In its hand was a massive war club, forged from the spine of some ancient creature. Its crimson eyes locked onto Khan, filled with malice.
"The Beast King," Zhao Yun muttered, blood dripping from his spear. "So that is the one driving them."
Khan's heart thundered, not from fear, but anticipation. This was the trial he had sensed at dawn. The heavens demanded proof.
He raised his sword, its edge gleaming beneath the light of the dragon.
"Then let us prove it."
The Beast King bellowed, charging forward like a storm given flesh. The ground quaked beneath its steps, trees shattering in its wake. Its roar split the heavens, a challenge to man and fate alike.
Khan did not retreat. He strode forward, the Fate Dragon roaring with him. The battlefield itself seemed to pause, soldiers and beastmen alike turning to witness the clash.
Steel met bone. Dragon met beast. Fate met defiance.
The true battle of the tide had begun.