Chapter 53- The Teachings of War King Cho

They took an hour to collect themselves. There was nothing worth looting from the battlefield. The reason there were so many horrors, according to daoist Mei, was that they were bred by the Five Elements Courtyard. They only lived for about a year, and for most of that year, they were quite helpful to the forest. They ate mostly dead wood and fallen leaves, and their excrement was astonishingly nourishing for all sorts of useful plants and trees. It was only when they approached breeding season that they became ferocious and attacked indiscriminately.

By no coincidence whatsoever, it was mating season. The bile spitting was something new, however. Some mutation in the breed.

“It’s why Doughy was unable to respond well. He expected you to show off before breaking, but the destruction of the first array was not expected, and I don’t think anyone imagined you would be insa-daring enough to call the whole forest down on your head.” Mei shook her head. She had switched from wine to water, but she was still gulping it down. She was adding some kind of powder to it. It didn’t smell poisonous. Medicine for her meridians, perhaps.

“You are calling him Doughy too?” Hong asked.

“They are just Oily and Doughy now, the Fried Dough Daoists forever. You certainly cooked them enough!” She giggled, covering her mouth with dainty fingers. “Those black and white tokens are proof of membership in a Manor, and the life saving favor of a senior. No token? No membership, and they have used up all their favor. Even if their uncle or patron is an Elder.”

“No second chances?” Brother Wang asked.

Mei just giggled again, and didn’t answer. Tian understood. There might be a way around it, in some circumstances. But to be out maneuvered and out played by someone they looked down on as a brute? To have it happen in front of elders from inside and outside the sect? Their patrons couldn’t wash their hands of these embarrassments fast enough.

“So the horrors are just bred to nourish the forest?” Tian asked.

“No way! Once the goopy bits are gone, the shells are cooked and smushed and all kinds of other stuff to make a suuuuper useful ink. We use it all the time in our basic talismans. Once mating season is over, servants will come and collect the shells. Cheap and cheerful, like me!” She poked her cheek with a finger and tilted her head.

Her voice had shifted up half a register in the space of just a few sentences. The inflections she was putting on her words had changed back to their normal pattern too. The shock of the battle was wearing off quite quickly. Tian silently marked it down, but didn’t mention it.

Once they were rested, they set off through the partially destroyed forest towards the Temple. The first half mile was unpleasant. Whatever the yin-yang attack was, it reduced the forest to quite fine dust. They had to use a light body art to walk over it, and they all quickly covered their heads in the wraps they brought from the desert. Nobody wanted to risk breathing in the dust.

Daoist Mei got a head wrap from Brother Wang after a little pouting. Sister Su gave him a death glare, clearly upset that he was aiding the enemy.

The jungle was eerily quiet. The crane had pulled in as many horrors as it could between them and the temple. The surviving horrors ran off after the explosion. Any other animals ran away from the horrors. Once they were out of the dust, it was a bare hundred miles to the temple. No distance at all for cultivators or spiritual animals.

The temple, according to the stone sign grown over with moss, was dedicated to War King Cho. A stele, once Tian pulled away the vines, revealed that “For forty years, faithfully led the armies of the Black North Division, securing the North East against… why is this bit carved out?” Tian asked.

“Hmm?” Mei tilted her head to the side, blinking her wide eyes.

“All the references to who he was fighting, and who he was fighting for, have been destroyed.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I dunno.” She shrugged, then ran over and hugged Brother Wang’s arm. “I’m scared of going through a ruined temple! There might be ghosts and spiders and centipedes! Nobody’s playing games now other than me and you, so you will look after me right?”

Tian shook his head and decisively walked away. They were here to clear out the temple, but based on how the elders liked to handle things, there was probably some kind of benefit hidden in here. His orders were to run off with all the benefits he could. Watching those two act like fools would only be a loss.

The temple was beautiful. Moss grew over the broken stone walls. Most of the roofs had collapsed, and vines were prying apart the bricks. Trees grew up in what were once broad paths, and ornamental ponds were reduced to swampy holes. Here and there were plinths, the statues they once held long since removed or destroyed. Only the main hall remained intact.

Nine steps up, Tian noticed, and nine tall columns holding up the roof over the massive bronze covered doors. Furious looking deities, or perhaps they were demons, were carved on the door. Each carried strange weapons, whose purpose Tian couldn’t deduce. He pushed the doors. It took some muscle, but they opened easily enough.

The inside was dry and cool, dimly lit with streams of early morning light coming through high windows. There were niches for candles, and hooks for lamps. All long gone. The statues remained.

In the center of the hall, facing the door, was War King Cho. Twenty feet tall, his robes fluttering behind him, steel armor carefully recreated in stone. His long halberd was thrust ahead, towards visitors as they entered. Surrounding him in orderly rows were clay soldiers, each taller than Tian. Some carried swords, others axes, or spears, sabers, long knives, every weapon of war was represented.

Tian smiled slightly. There was a very faint charm to them. Once, they would have been rich with the dao of the weapons they carried. He could understand the opportunity. Come in, meditate in front of the statue that best suited your martial dao. Perhaps gain some enlightenment. He carefully searched, but not a single one used a rope dart.

Stolen story; please report.

Clearly, War King Cho was a bum, led a bum army, and was commemorated here as a terrible warning to future generations about his childish, foolish understanding of the best weapon ever. In fact, the whole arrangement was suspect. Swords, sabers, spears, halberds, crossbows. Only weapons. A soldier’s tools These things didn’t make someone a general, let alone a war king. Not if Tian’s books were to be believed.

Tian sat on the floor and started sorting through the piles of books he had slowly accumulated. He couldn’t remember exactly where he saw it, it was someone quoting someone else.

“Two years before the chariots move, move the silver. Six months before the horses are bridled, send forth fodder and grain. But before moving silver or rations, send forth your spies and emissaries, for with their skillful use you may triumph without moving at all.”

The quote wasn’t attributed in the book to anyone other than “The Ancients.” The author held it up as proof that the best generals relied on intelligence gathering, diplomacy and logistics more than clever tactics and subtle strategy. It made sense to Tian. Depot Four existed for exactly that reason.

Presumably anyone who got a twenty foot tall statue of themselves erected was a good enough general to know all that. It wouldn’t be easy to imbue dozens of clay statues with dao charm either. This wasn’t some mortal creation.