Beware Of Chicken

Book 4: Chapter 72: Relfections and One Last Task

Book 4: Chapter 72: Relfections and One Last Task

Nezan watched on idly as once more food and drink was brought out. He had a small smile plastered on his face as he watched Yun Ren entertain the rest of their kin with colours and swirling lights.

It was a scene of levity, compared to the oppressive atmosphere that Nezan had created.

He sighed. He had nearly succumbed to Da Jis hate; the blood fury inherent in all foxes when their ire was roused. The savage, destructive malice that demanded to see everything burn. The mere idea that they could once more own the mountain had been too much. It had stirred his heart and set his Qi on a dark path forwards.

His heart, his being, his identity was all tied into what seemed like a never ending war to get it back. He had been but a child when it had fallen, and afterwards his cousins had spirited him away to a hidden realm where he had trained to grow strong enough to enter the war.

He had fought for centuries. He had probably killed more members of the Shrouded Mountain Sect than any other person or organization could ever claim. He had torn out their throats with his teeth even as their swords stabbed into his guts. He had burned them to ashes with foxfire. He had imposed twisted visions that had driven them insane.

He had never been alone. At first, he had followed the stronger foxes, mad on Da Jis hate. They demanded that everyone must fight, declaring that this war was their solemn duty.

So they did. There was no such thing as a non-combatant fox for the first part of the warwhen they gathered in their hundreds to challenge the Shrouded Mountain Sect.

Indeed, Nezan still remembered the impassioned plea of his cousins during the conclave that had convinced the majority of their kin to stay instead of fleeing the province when the tide of the war became obvious.

Oh, some likely had left; but the bulk of the foxes had stayed.

This was their home, and it was their duty to fight to their last breaths to defend it.

Even as their numbers dwindled, Nezan fought. His survival was what saw him get, to use a human term, promoted; he fought and he fought and he fought until one day he found himself as one of the strongest foxes left alive, with everybody following his lead.

So he continued the battle. For his family, and for all those who had died, it was their duty to.

Somewhat ironically it had been Wen who had started to change things. Even though she was barely coherent when she first came to them, her mind reeling from whatever tortures the Inquisition had inflicted on her, she had been the one to see their population problems. She had convinced Nezan and the others to start setting up more hidden villages and to start making deals with the other human sects who disliked the Shrouded Mountain Sect.

It had been her that convinced him that not everyone needed to fight nor should they fight. They needed those who would preserve their culture and their ways, so that one day they could finally rise again.

And then it had been her that had given her life for them in that final, fateful battle. Her amongst some of the last foxes who had strength left. A rear-guard action, to protect their last real village and buy time for their evacuation.

They had turned the valley into a burial mound. Three Elders of the Shrouded Mountain Sect had gone to their doom along with nearly a thousand cultivators when his dearest had turned herself into an avatar of living lightning.

Nezan, too, had nearly perished in that battle. He had been grievously injured, his cultivation nearly shattered.

But his people had still needed his help.

He laid Wens body to rest, along with her sword, then returned to the Howling Fang Mountains. Nezan had been working more off instinct more than anything else. He couldnt remember how many people he had to bribe or lie to. He couldnt remember how many times they nearly lost everything. But in the end, Nezan became Honoured Uncle Nezan.

The technical leader of their race, by seniority if nothing else. The leaders of the clans swore they would wait for his word and for his return, and that their children would forever honour him.

With that, Nezan could finally rest. He staggered back to Wens grave and he slept.

He slept for ages; a human cultivator surely would have perished by old age, but the foxes of the mountain were known for their longevity.

But it took him entirely too long to recover. Each time he awoke, it was almost like a dream. He would work on Wens Tomb or he would sneak out to a village to make sure they were still there.

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And then, one day, he found an intruder in his den who, with his words and actions, had made the world swim back into focus.

At first he had been content to sleep. He was an old relic, and his kin were relatively safe. Yet the Shrouded Mountain Sect had reared its ugly head, once more threatening his family.

The mood was optimistic as Yushang bugged Yun Ren to take out his tail again, much to the other mans annoyance.

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There was a ringing in his ears. His entire body felt like it was burning and freezing at the same time as the wind howled and his body rocked side to side. It was incredibly uncomfortable.

He suddenly dropped slightly, as whatever he was on rocked more.

He was being carried, he realised. And the person carrying him had just stumbled.

Stay with me. Come on, Yingwen! Stay with me! Fenxian demanded over the wind, his voice tight with pain. Were gonna make it!

Zhou Yingwen of the Shrouded Mountain Sect opened his eyes and then immediately wished he hadnt.

It was dark and the air was filled with snow, but it did nothing to hide the state his companion was in.

He could see Fenxians skull. The blackned bone was visible in the ruin that was his face. His clothes had been burned off, and his leg had a bone sticking out of it, his own bone. His brother disciple was barely standing, and Yingwen would not burden him anymore.

I am awake. Put me down. I can walk, Yingwen said, trying to lessen the burden on his fellow.

Fenxian laughed. The sound was pained.

No, you cant, Fenxian replied.

Yingwen blinked and then looked down.

Oh it appeared Fenxian was correct, for the first time in forever. Yingwen could not walk.

He had no legs.

He let out a rattling breath and turned away again. He fell silent as Fenxian trudged along, Yingwens eyes roving around and trying to make out anything through the blizzard around them.

And then he saw it, the briefest of flashes before it melted back into the snow.

Fenxian.

I know, his brother disciple tersely replied.

Then they heard it. It was low, almost masked by the wind.

The rattling breath that sounded like laughter.

Yingwen swallowed, his mind flashing back to the abominations that had been in the mountain.

Fenxian started moving faster, no matter how much the movement pained him.

The rattling laugh was joined by a second, and then a third.

Yingwen felt despair start to creep up on him. The same despair he felt when Elder Shenhe had fallen.

Shadows danced through the snow, hounding the last surviving members of Elder Shenhes Fulmination Squadron.