Chapter 23 – The Frost of Tianshui
As the carriage rattles toward the Northern border, Lakan sits in silence, his eyes closed in Song-Binding Meditation. On his lap rest Araw and Buan. He runs a finger along the Baybayin engravings on the hilt of the Golden Kampilan.
"Finally," Lakan thinks, his mental landscape calm like a mountain lake. "For six years, I've practiced the Severing Rhythm with nothing but Arnis sticks and bamboo. Every time I tried to channel the Blade's Pulse, the wood would splinter into toothpicks under the frequency. I was a musician with a symphony in my head but no instrument to play it."
He glances at the blades. "With these Anito vessels, I can finally execute the Tapyas and the Endless Thread. A stick can only bruise; a blade that flows with the Daloy ng Tubig... that is what severs destiny. This rhythm isn't just about cutting flesh; it's about cutting the very flow of an opponent's intent."
Beside him, Shui Bing'er is looking out the window, her breath fogging the glass as the temperature drops. The carriage crosses the bridge into the Blueray Province, and the atmosphere changes. The prosperous, holy air of Wuhun City is replaced by the grey, oppressive feeling of a feudal territory.
The Shui Estate
The carriage pulls up to the gates of the Shui Manor. It is a beautiful estate built of white stone and blue tile, but the walls are lined with guards who look exhausted and tense.
The moment the door opens, a small blue blur streaks across the courtyard.
"SISTER!"
Shui Yue-er, looking like a miniature version of Bing'er but with more chaotic energy, crashes into Bing'er, sobbing. "I knew you weren't dead! I told Father the Evil Soul Masters couldn't keep you!"
A tall, dignified man with silver-blue hair—Shui Tian, the head of the family—approaches. He bows deeply to Ling Yue, but his eyes are fixed on his eldest daughter and the strange, golden-eyed boy standing beside her.
"Elder Ling Yue," Shui Tian says, his voice thick with relief. "The Blueray Province is in your debt. But... we received word that Bing'er was 'taken' by Spirit Hall for her protection. I did not realize she would return with the Supreme Pontiff's own Envoy."
Before Bing'er can explain the Sumpa or the Phoenix Valley, the heavy gallop of armored horses thunders down the street. A squad of Heaven Dou Imperial Soldiers, led by a man in ornate, dark-purple armor, halts at the gates.
The man is Duke Victor, a Rank 72 Spirit Sage with a Black-Widow Spider martial soul. He looks down at the group with a sneer of entitlement.
"Shui Tian!" the Duke bellows, ignoring the Spirit Hall carriage. "I heard your daughter has returned. Good. My son's mansion is lonely, and her 'debt' of service is long overdue. Don't make me use the Imperial Decree to seize her."
He then notices Lakan. He sees a six-year-old in fancy robes. "And who is this brat? A playmate you bought for her in the city?"
Lakan steps forward, his eyes suddenly flashing with a piercing, violet-gold light. Adarna's Gaze of Truth activates. To Lakan, the Duke isn't a man; he is a mess of jagged, rotting energy threads. He sees the Duke's soul power flow—it is stagnant, built on the "consumption" of others.
"Rank 72," Lakan says, his voice small but carrying to every corner of the courtyard. "But your foundation is as hollow as a rotted tree. You've used external drugs to force your breakthrough, haven't you, Duke? Your seventh ring is dull. You wouldn't last three minutes against a true Spirit Sage."
The Duke's face turns purple with rage. "You little parasite! How dare you speak to a Noble of the Empire this way! Soldiers, arrest this insolent child and the girl!"
The soldiers hesitate, seeing the Spirit Hall insignia, but the Duke's personal authority in this province is absolute. They level their spears.
Lakan doesn't look at Ling Yue for help. He doesn't need it. He reaches back and draws Araw. The Golden Kampilan hums, a low, predatory sound that vibrates the very air.
"Sister Ling Yue, stay back," Lakan commands, his voice dropping into the cold register of the Sovereign. "This man speaks of 'Imperial Decrees' and 'Debts.' I find the frequency of his hypocrisy... offensive to my ears."
Lakan turns to the Duke, his feet shifting into the Eight-Directional Flow.
"You want to see 'Debts' repaid, Duke Victor? I am Lakan Diwa, Envoy of the Supreme Pontiff. I don't follow Imperial Decrees. I follow the Flow. And currently... the Flow says your head is too high."