Heaven’s war ended as abruptly as it began.


    It was unconcerned with the chaos it had inspired on the lower realm and held no interest in offering a reason for inflicting divine lightning, or justification for causing the earth to erupt.


    Liao Hua knew this for she could observe something settling down between the mesh of the net engulfing the heavens, a net which stretched past the horizon and wrapped back on itself to cradle a great palace of impossible proportions—at once the spires were taller than the mountains and yet, the base upon which they were built was no greater than Hua’s mortal handspan—where a deliberation was reached, a verdict whose impact which reached the earth below.


    It was not a physical impact in any way she could articulate. It was a thought, a feeling, an idea that could be seen only with golden eyes and was somehow as real as lightning crashing down upon the world. With that settling, the palaces vanished from view to leave only the Great Net of Heaven, and even that did not remain long.


    It faded away, it and the heavens which it engulfed. Days it had remained in the sky, cruelly taunting Hua with the reminder of what she had lost. Celestial lightning had struck her, granted her golden sight, and now the heavens scurried away. Pretending they hadn’t cast Qing down and killed her. If the gods came down and kowtowed before her, then maybe Hua could stomach her hate and bile. But no, the heavens ran and hid in a place beyond any mortal’s ability to reach.


    I hope it was worth it, whatever you did. For whatever reason you did it, I hope you enjoy it. Savour these peaceful days before I reach you. Because there will be no mercy given.


    Revenge would be worth it. She had to believe that. One day, she would be reunited with Qing, and she would build her a palace from the rubble of heaven. They would have an eternity together, this much Hua promised. Every word Hua had not known how to say would be spoken every moment they were together, until the world spoke with her voice, and it spoke only adoration.


    For now, she would endure this world that left dirt beneath her nails and splatters of blood on her face. There was no point trying to clean her nails when she spent so much time shoving aside rubble, reaching into churned mud or burnt homes. Blood was inevitable when carrying corpses and occasionally making them. These mundane falsehoods that clung so insistently.


    A wave of exhaustion crashed through her. Hua nearly stumbled. Nearly. Before all strength left her, she shuffled to the space between two buildings that were tucked away and settled into the shade made by the slumping roof and the banners attached to crooked poles. There, she slumped against the wall, her sweating back clinging to her clothes. In her tattered and filthy robes was the medicine pouch Cousin Ji gave her.


    Liao Hua chewed down on one of those precious pills, swallowing what tasted like burnt ginseng and fermented honey. There was Qi in them, hardly enough to nourish someone who had just broken through, but they were clean pills with few impurities and attuned to lightning Qi. Any Qi was good Qi right now as her dantian strained. Breathing heavy, chest aching. She was on the very edge of Qi depravation. Before her dantian consumed itself to fuel her needs, Hua cultivated.


    She inhaled and breathed in the Qi unfurling from the bitter pill. The scratchy quality of Qi entering her spiritual channels spoke of a pill made by Young Ren, the apprentice Alchemist, and not the senior master. She drew that imperfect Qi down into her shivering dantian, stripping away every impurity and misaligned element, until a raw clump of Qi could settle above the stolid earth at the base of her dantian. It was a new thing, that earthen nature. A thing Hua could not let go of even if a child of lightning should never love the earth more than the radiance descending from the sky. It was clashing with her base nature, making it harder to draw and move Qi. But letting go wasn’t an option.


    Thinking of Qing left her colder than the chilly wind sweeping past her defences. The unseasonable cold had left the mortals shivering as they worked. It was a more reasonable thing than a world without Qing. That this world still had the audacity to shine golden—


    The flash of gold drew her focus, abruptly wrenching Hua from any reminiscence.


    Beside Hua, there was a barrel that had accumulated a layer of muddy water. In the shallow puddle with a dead rat, she saw her reflection. Maybe her hair was just that brown and filthy. But in that murky water, gold shone through clearly. Her eyes were bright and clear despite the poor quality of the reflection.


    Divine lightning had struck her and she survived. It made some sense that there would be a mark.


    That mark was distilled sunlight, concentrated in her eyes. Her cousin Weiji had told her, but she had yet to see for herself. It was too muddy to tell if she had lost the green that was her relation to her clan, to her father and grandmother.


    The gods were truly petty to steal even her eyes.


    ***


    The suns rippled as the ground vibrated. The rhythmic thudding shook the barrel, made the muddy water shiver and distort the reflection of Hua’s newfound eyes. The dead rat slid further into the water with each thud until its narrow head was fully submerged.


    It was a group of soldiers making their way down the newly cleared road. They wore a mix of off-duty uniforms, their personal clothes, and even full armour. Each carried a spear and some even carried swords. A few had bows. Not many had tempered their bodies.


    Hua did not recognise any of them. They were Imperial soldiers, not Clan soldiers.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The Imperial Garrison had the unlucky benefit of being within spitting distance of the city which made politicks contentious on a good day. The Liao Clan had an Imperial Seal to rule over everything from the mountain range to the west and all along the Liao River till it terminated eastward. It was a great territory with fertile fields and an easy way to monopolise the river trade in the province. Every city, town, mine, and citizen within that range was theirs, both by the might of their Cultivation and by imperial decree.


    For so honoured a Clan, what more could the then sitting Emperor do but grant them a full Imperial Garrison, supervised by a Magistrate who would be their direct line to the Lord Governor, and through him, the Dragon Throne. The Magistrate would help ensure that the Liao Clan discharged their duty according to Imperial law and knew how best to serve the Empire. He would also communicate any and all actions the Liao Clan took to his superiors.


    The Magistrate was a living and unsubtle reminder of the Empire’s yoke around Liao necks. Everyone knew that truth and accepted it. They could kill the Magistrate and the garrison at any time if they wished to deal with the full force of every Imperial garrison in the province besieging them with the support of both the Yu and Zhao Clans. Or they could enter an unsteady truce where the Magistrate dealt with his bureaucracy in the city whilst he left them to rule peacefully, intervening only when nobility was involved, or Imperial authority was called into question. Or when bribes went awry.


    It left the soldiers wedged between the Liao Clan’s forces that would gladly stab them and the citizens who disdained them for enforcing the Dragon Throne’s tax collections. An additional tax burden to what they already gave to the Liao Patriarch. The Throne rarely did that as it was a sign of instability back at court. They did so eight years ago. Then word had come that the new generals had been selected and old ones executed.


    Is there still a Dragon Throne? If the capital was hit by this destruction, would they have been able to survive? Do we still have an Emperor?


    That thought took root deep in her mind. Hua gave it space to exist and build upon itself. There was much she had seen since Heaven betrayed them. Once those thoughts fully coalesced, she would act.


    “State your name and business,” Liu Xin demanded, crossing his arms, chin lifted.


    Liu Xin was desperate to enter Hua’s good graces. It would keep him alive longer, working to her benefit. Whilst riding a tiger might get your face bitten, feeding it well might have it leave you be after it flung you off. And a dozen imperial soldiers was a less dangerous proposition than dealing with Hua.


    The lead soldier stamped the butt of his spear on the ground, Qi flaring for a moment. The first star of Qi Condensation. A not insignificant stage. Besides Weiji and the dead boy, he was the first fellow Cultivator she had encountered since things went to shit.


    “This one is Captain Ciao attached to the Office of the honourable Lord Magistrate of Liaojiangkou. To whom of Clan Liao do I speak?”


    “You speak to Liu Xin, a retainer of the Liao Clan. The honourable Captain has yet to state his business.”


    “Claiming to serve the Liao Clan is a dangerous thing to do, one that has seen many drawn and quartered. I see no member of the Liao Clan here. So, are you perhaps lying, Jurchen?”


    Well, that was enough.


    Hua decided to finally let herself be known. She walked into daylight and let her presence unfurl. Two of the soldiers jumped where they stood, bringing their spears down to aim the point at her. She slid her golden-eyed gaze past them and to the captain.


    He did not scowl but she could sense his displeasure at her silver hair. They did not share a chain of command, and only the Patriarch could give orders to the imperial garrison, but one also did not piss off the strongest man in the province. Not a man who was called hero, legend, and one day, he would be a martyr. Insulting his Clan might very well be an insult to him.


    Foolish. As if Hua needed her father’s authority to be strong enough to terrify a mere soldier.


    She flickered her own, deeper reservoir of Qi, and let it spread over the street like the storm clouds coming over the mountains and overtaking the clear sky. She did this not to suppress him—she wasn’t that much stronger—but to make him understand that he’d not brought enough men if it came to a fight.


    And because she liked seeing him flinch.


    “You may know me as Young Mistress Liao Hua, eldest daughter of Patriarch Liao Xiaosan, the Radiant Lightning Body. What do soldiers of the Dragon Throne who have been unaccounted for seek with this Young Mistress who has brought order to a city of the Yongtai Emperor?”


    He bowed politely, just enough to acknowledge her status. The Captain chose discretion. A shame. Hua had hoped for a confrontation.


    “We would seek the assistance of the Liao Clan to further stabilise this city in the name of the Yongtai Emperor. The honoured protectors who share the name of this city have thus far been unaccounted. Your name might be enough to bring them from hiding.”


    Oh, so he did have enough of a spine to insult her. Good. She disliked fighting cowardly Cultivators. They tended to beg before they died. As if simpering would inspire an ounce of mercy in Liao Hua.


    “One would think that your Lord Magistrate or your Garrison Commanders would leave their estates in our time of great need. This Young Mistress would have an answer as to their absence.”


    “The Magistrate was attending a business meeting when the earth broke and holy lightning descended. He has yet to be heard from.”


    With roads devastated and entire sections of the city swallowed, it would be hard enough for the Magistrate to find his way back easily. Assuming he was alive and hadn’t died to fire, lightning, suffocation, a fissure in the earth, banditry, looting, murder, dehydration, and the myriad other means of mortality Hua had witnessed.


    “And the Garrison?”


    “The road to it has been destroyed by landslides and the water level has risen so aggressively that the bridge and garrison itself have flooded. We have managed to communicate with smoke signals, so there is some chain of command, but we are still separated by physical distance.”


    The issue with defensible locations is that they often had limited ways in or out. The garrison possessed the same issue as it was an isthmus connecting a lake to the Liao River. One could journey to it by the now destroyed roads or cross the lake were one willing to deal with rapids and sharks.


    Irritating, but not an impossible thing to deal with. “We’ll leave them be for now. If they manage to reach us, will they accept your authority?”


    “To a degree, honoured Daoist. If any above me in rank still remain, they will listen to any suggestion backed by the child of the Radiant Lightning Body.”


    Even without descending from the compound, her father’s name was enough. One day, they would say Hua’s name the same way. Even the gods would know it.


    “How many men do you have and what supplies?” His report was quick and concise. “As useful as this is, working in separate pockets of authority won’t get us anywhere. I can hear a scuffle breaking out right now. What I need are runners to relay messages and a central location to organise around. We’ve been using a nearby inn for triage. And whatever building has a roof. But we need a bigger building to organise a better system.”


    “The Central Counting House still stands and the roads to it have been cleared. The mercantile consortium has been holed up with their mercenaries. They have been… uncooperative.”


    Ah, that was something Hua could deal with. She offered him a toothy smile.


    “Well then, Captain Ciao, shall we go intimidate a few merchants?”