by Mark Swaine
“Emperor Yu-Huang, forgive me, explain from the beginning. What misdeed do you speak of?” asks Kamui Li, perplexed.
“It was I, do you not see? It was I who caused her to be distracted. The wind, the cat, the needle, my interference caused her to be harmed,” says the Emperor, rambling.
“No your Highness, from sunrise till dusk, distractions may occur at any time. How we meet these distractions depend on our actions alone. It is the will to act that allows us to avoid possible dire consequences. Do not blame the rough seas for claiming the lives of brave travellers, they should have swum harder. Do not blame the dragons for hunting slow runners, they should have run faster. A brave warrior does not blame their enemy for striking them down during combat, for the superior swordsman will always reign victorious. Should one be ignorant enough not to mind their surroundings, bad luck strikes hard,” says Kamui Li.
“A strike, a strike of lightning. By Raijin's wrath, you are right. It all makes sense now. The Weaver girl was struck by a bolt of lightning,” says Yu-Huang, musing into the distance.
“What? What… bolt of lightning?” says Kamui Li scratching the back of his neck and breathing deeply.
“Upon her demise, the Weaver girl, she was hit by a bolt of lightning,” says Yu-Huang in enlightenment.
“What does this mean?” asks Kamui Li.
“I… have no idea,” he replies, poised in confusion, “but this is but one of many pieces of a much larger puzzle,” adds Yu-Huang.
“Where did this incident occur Emperor Yu-Huang?” asks Kamui Li.
“In the mill district on the outskirts of the Lǜsè de Shān village, a place far from here,” replies Yu-Huang.
“Master Yu-Huang, Emperor, are you...” stutters Kamui Li.
“Do not look at me that way, I am of rational mind, I am fine. I sense…changes in the universe, a revolution within time and space. Speak of this with no one, say nothing," says Yu-Huang, clutching onto Kamui's biceps.
Kamui Li agrees without question, for he wouldn't even know where to begin if anyone did enquire of the Emperor's bizarre and dangerous dream. Kamui Li waits until the Emperor's back is turned as he quenches his thirst with continuous gulps of fresh water, then he mutters a magic spell under his breath, hoping it will go unnoticed. The Emperor's bald head suddenly radiates a faint red shield before fading away. Sensing the spell cast upon him, the Emperor turns and frowns at Kamui Li.
“My friend do you recall whence we first spoke that night in the orchard?” asks the Emperor.
“I recall the greatness of our first meeting my Emperor,” says Yu-Huang.
“Do you recall a certain law under my rule, a law that forbids the improper use of magic?” asks the Emperor, in a laid back taciturn manner.
“Yes I recall the law. Emperor Yu-Huang, may I place upon you a spell that will deny Hisako-Hisa possession over your mind?” asks Kamui Li, sarcastically.
“Heed your tone,” replies the Emperor, half-heartedly.
“Will there be anything else my Master?” asks Kamui Li.
“No, you may take your leave,” says Yu-Huang.
The doors open for Kamui Li and the Royal Guard march back in, lining the sides of the hall.
“Master Yu-Huang, Xan Li wishes to express her gratitude and bids you good fortune. 'Twas your knowledge that allowed me to release her from her curse, you truly are every bit as wise as your people hail you,” says Kamui Li.
“’Tis my pleasure to be of service my friend, I am overjoyed Xan Li has been freed of her curse. Is she well?” asks Yu-Huang.
“Yes,” says Kamui Li unsurely. “She is confused,” adds Kamui Li.
“It will pass,” assures Yu-Huang. “I have not yet thanked you for coming to my aid," says Yu-Huang.
“You shall never need to,” says the young warrior whilst bowing humbly.
Kamui Li exits the Shinnen palace and stops to think outside the doors. Kamui Li shakes his head in doubt and glances to the side to see General Arachie watching him.
“Is there something on your mind General?” asks Kamui Li.
“You are a good soldier, I need not ever question your allegiance,” says the General.
“However?” replies Kamui Li.
“You rushed to me shouting pure madness... spells, dreams, magic. My men need not hear such nonsense, and nor do I. I want no part of any sorcery or black magic, I will not tolerate Necromancery within my ranks,” says the General.
“I am no Necromancer,” replies Kamui Li.
“It is my duty to defend these walls, to keep the Jade army strong, focussed. The mind, body and spirit are the most powerful weapons a soldier can possess; I not want you doubting their training in favour of a few well executed magic tricks. You will not approach me ranting like a madman before the ranks again, am I clear?” says the General standing too close for Kamui Li's comfort.
“As a lake,” replies Kamui Li as humbly as possible.
“With the matter of sorcery being of topic, is there anything I should know, or any way I can be of assistance,” asks the General formally.
“No... Yes, how many days ride is the Lǜsè de Shān village from here?” asks Kamui Li.
“Ten days without cargo or escort,” replies the General. “Why?” asks the General.
“I must investigate the mill district that resides on the outskirts,” replies Kamui Li.
“There is no mill district in the Lǜsè de Shān village, or the outskirts,” replies the General.
Kamui Li appears concerned and the General stares at him disapprovingly, unwanting of the weird and supernatural dilemma. Back in the palace, the Emperor smiles hopefully as he continues to ready himself, certain that more pieces of the puzzle will be revealed in time. Whilst fastening his yellow sash, the words that his spectral self spoke suddenly dawns on him in an unwelcome flashback.
"We do not belong here anymore, we are too dangerous to exist among the mortals.”
The Emperor ponders upon the statement and how true it may be. Worse still, he recalls the threats the Darkness made regarding his people and knows it is time to better know his enemy. In all his years, Yu-Huang had never been able to find the twin blades, yet there was a strange comfort in that knowledge, for if he could not find them, then surely they are well hidden from the red eye of the Darkness.
But he needs the blades now, he knows they reside within the library of rare and dangerous artefacts somewhere in the Tower of Guang. But first and foremost, Yu-Huang knows he must prepare countermeasures against Hisako-Hisa's forces should she dare mount an attack.
“Time is of the essence,” muses Yu-Huang, holding up his hand and closing it tight.
As the Emperor feels power surging through his body, he bounds through the palace doors and holds his hand against a gust of wind. Yu-Huang disappears as he rides the blustery breeze and journeys to the ‘Lóng de Zuìzhōng Pīntú’ (the Final Nest of the Dragon). Upon an oceanside cove too high and hazardous to be scaled by the arms of man, Yu-Huang lands gracefully by the entrance of the cave. He kneels by a shrine climbing the mountain face, a shrine dedicated to his favoured reptilian beasts. The Emperor prays they hear his voice and asks they fly to his aid in the event of an attack. Yu-Huang receives no reply, nor does he ever, only in the form of action do they ever acknowledge his pleas, and they always do. Yu-Huang has never stepped foot inside the dragons final resting place, even though he and only he is permitted. Inside the cove, he can only imagine lies a graveyard of bones and stolen treasures from all over the undiscovered lands. In return for his watchful eyes guarding the sanctity of their sacred ground, it’s Yu-Huang's responsibility to ensure no mortal ever steps foot inside the titanic cave. Yu-Huang offers thanks to the dragons, then leaps off the cliff to disappear in the loud rushing wind.
That night in the melodic tranquil ambience of the Tower of Guang, monks hum, murmur and chant in prayer by the candle lit shrines as Yu-Huang continues his studies afresh. The Emperor studies well into mid winter
without so much as upward glance, surrounded by stacks of codex towering above and around him. On a windy night, thick with falling snow, an inconsistent whistling wind lulls the mentally exhausted Emperor into a daze. As his eyes become heavy, he begins to drift off. In his slumber, he sees swords clashing, blood spilling and times changing. He sees eyes of the most peculiar nature suddenly staring back at him. Startled, Yu-Huang sits awake with a crumpled piece of codex stuck to his cheek. Before he can completely come around, he hears a familiar voice fading away.
“Don’t work too 'ard lad, avva cuppa tea,” says the familiar husky old voice.
That same voice from courtyard thinks Yu-Huang. In the stuffy warmth of the expansive dusty archives, Yu-Huang looks over his chair and under the table. Yu-Huang then looks strangely at an item on his desk, a tankard of the strangest design. He picks up the white mug, steaming with fresh hot tea and reads aloud what could potentially be a message inked onto the front.
“I love tea and coffee and...” says Yu-Huang strangely.
The confused Emperor then looks at a black arrow underneath the lettering, possibly suggesting that he turn it to the back, which he does before reading out the end of the message.
“...my wife,” says Yu-Huang baffled. “Who are you? Show yourself,” says Yu-Huang, uselessly addressing no one.
Allowing his moment of madness and paranoia to pass, he looks underneath the cup and reads the better-hidden embedded message.
“Made in China,” says Yu-Huang, stumped by the message.
Dismissing the strange phenomena for the sake of his already overworked sanity, he takes a large swig of the hot milky tea and rises from his stool. The warm drink immediately calms his busy mind as he listens to the heavy snow storm blasting against the temple exterior. As the rickety shutters rattle savagely, he watches the dancing snowflakes seek refuge between the laths. Feeling exhausted and hopeless, he dismisses the bizarre appearance of the large mug of tea and caresses his cold hands on the warm porcelain. Taking the unusual find with him, he walks onto a nearby balcony to watch the storm. With his bare feet crunching on the softly set snow, he walks halfway down an adjoining wide spiral flight of steps before sitting to contemplate on the mystery of the hidden twin blades. He ponders on anything he might have missed; perhaps there was somewhere he hasn't looked, something he wasn't remembering. He even wonders if they’re even here in the first place since he'd never actually set eyes upon them. He sips on the steaming hot delicious tea and sets it down beside him before holding out his hand to allow a single snowflake to land in his palm. As he observes the snowflake turn to water, he watches in desperation and worry as a single wrinkle forms on his hand. The Emperor holds his head in despair and he wonders what’s happening to him as he looks out upon his great city. Pagodas are layered in blankets of snow overhanging the corners of the roofs. Market stalls remain open for business selling hot soups and meals whilst children throw snowballs at passing adults with deadly accuracy.
With the sun at rest, the village fires rise like crackling finger tips reaching up, but the lethal chill of the night throws caution to those basking in the warmth of their homesteads not to step outside. For as the night grows only colder, the people hurry home to their fur lined, fire heated shacks. Despite the revelation, there are more damned souls in his kingdom than he realised, but he cannot bring himself to think any less of his great rule. The Emperor smiles lovingly as he looks out to the picturesque landscape, it looks so peaceful, quiet...and ripe for destruction. As he downs the last of the hot milky tea, he studies the handled cup carefully, and to his surprise, it disappears in a whirl of mist. Yu-Huang thinks back to his dream where the Darkness first revealed its self to him.
You shall never possess the Shikyo, but I will strike you down with it. With Yasu and Shikyo, I will end you.
You do not yet know, do you?
Know what?
You do not possess the power required to harness the dark energy of the Shikyo blade
Yu-Huang feels uncomfortable and pressured knowing that the Darkness is in possession of such information, he needs to know whether the truth. The Emperor walks determinedly back into the temple and looks up to the giant well interior of the Tower of Guang. In the warm rise of the circular tower, lanterns dangle from each level of the bamboo framing, casting a dim glow on the dusty forgotten relics. Continuing his search for legends of the Darkness, the twin blades, or any clues that might lead him to their whereabouts, the words of the Darkness spur him on. Seated on a short plank of wood suspended near the ascent, Yu-Huang can barely see the ground. He tugs on the roped pulley and he’s thrust higher up. As he flies upward past each storage garret, he suddenly grips the rope as he overpasses an item of interest. The Emperor lowers further down and swings forward to grab a support beam. He extends a lantern to cast further light on a large mural twice his size. Yu-Huang had always considered this artefact as unusual, but had never realised just how much, until now. Yu-Huang turns his head and juts out his bottom jaw in self annoyance, furious at how he could have been so blind all these years. The Emperor allows himself a little forgiveness and pulls away the drapes of cobwebs and blows the blanket of dust from the silk canvas before looking upon the ancient work of art. Studying closely the colourfully inked painting, the Emperor runs his hand an inch away from its surface as he admires the well preserved antique. Yu-Huang's eyes follow the ornate brush strokes along a proud, thin bearded and moustached face, partially concealed by a dark blue Kabuto helmet and Mengu mask. The forgotten painting of the middle aged Samurai on horseback was old, perhaps even older than he was.
“Emperor Baransu, can it be?” muses Yu-Huang, in silent wonder.
Even though the canvas had frayed and faded over the centuries, the detail and usage of colours used to create this detailed masterpiece, he never thought possible of conveying into such physicality. Yu-Huang observes the Samurai's sleek charcoal Kikou armour, a large black bow fastened to the warrior's back, rising above his head with a quiver packed with arrowheads of light. Emperor Baransu's gauntlet bound hand raised high above his head grips a white handled Katana dripping with blood. The hilt of the Katana is smooth, leathery like, but the blade itself, Yu-Huang feels as though it might sever his fingers just by running his tips along its painted edge.
“Yasu, at long last,” smiles the Emperor, exasperating in relief.
Yu-Huang looks at the mounted horse, standing knee deep in blood against a landscape of staggered rows of jagged white mountains. The white peaks supported by a green scaly base could easily have been mistaken for mountains, but upon closer inspection he identifies them as teeth, and two appear to be missing. The headless dragon's forked tongue hangs from the side of its mouth, curled up tight in its final death croak. Yu-Huang can barely take his eyes of the long awaited treasure.
“The Ichidai dragon,” whispers Yu-Huang in amazement.
Yu-Huang observes the red handled Daisho and Wakizashi fastened to the side of the dragon slayer's blue Obi. Beside the two blades resides an abnormally shaped black handled Katana sheathed in a black scabbard. The weapon appears organic in appearance, slimy and slithery and secreting a black liquid. The dark liquid oozing down the painting looks real enough to touch. As he reaches forward, he finds his fingertips breaching the boundaries of the mural surface. Alerted to the mural's magic, he immediately withdraws his hand and appears startled by the ancient work of art. With time acting against him, Yu-Huang discards his reservations and immerses his arm completely into the mural as if he were reaching through an open window. He wastes no more time in his attempt to claim the twin blades and stretches as far as his body will allow. Yu-Huang finds himself unable to reach the Yasu Katana from the confines of his seat, so he uses the support beam to swing forward. The top half of the Emperor's body merges with the colourful ink as he swings head first into the painting to take a firm hold of Emperor Baransu's gauntlet. Yu-Huang pries Emperor Baransu's grip from the hilt, takes the Yasu Katana and removes h
imself from the painting. Sheathing the blade into its smooth curved Saya, he smiles with satisfaction whilst strapping it to his back. Yu-Huang turns back into the painting and looks tenaciously at the Shikyo blade. Yu-Huang pushes himself back into the mural and grabs hold of the handle of the Shikyo. Unsheathing the blade from the Saya requires more effort than a mortal man can muster, for even he struggles to release the jagged and rusty blade. The slimy throbbing handle of the blade feels repulsive in his grip as he tightens his fingers around it, and he can feel the excretions oozing between his fingers.
Yu-Huang almost feels ashamed to desecrate the mural with his thievery as he looks awkwardly at the Japanese Emperor, his face only inches away from his. Yu-Huang is suddenly startled as he looks upon the Samurai's face, for Emperor Baransu's expression of pride has changed to one of rage. Yu-Huang suddenly feels a tight force around his neck as Emperor Baransu grips his throat. The ancient Japanese Emperor roars furiously into the robber's face. Emperor Baransu removes the thief's grip from the Shikyo Katana and Yu-Huang acts fast to avoid the tip of the most crooked and rusted blade he has ever seen. Yu-Huang breaks Baransu’s hold and recoils as the blade’s edge swings over his neck. Yu-Huang exits the painting in a hurry and the Katana emerges with him as Emperor Baransu aims for the stealing hand of the Emperor. Trying to keep his rope steady in the middle high stretch of the tower, Yu-Huang looks angrily at the Samurai dismounting his horse and approaching the boundaries of the mural. As Emperor Baransu exits the painting in a single bound, the pool of dragon blood in the painting spills like a ruby red waterfall down the circular void.