32 Meeting of powerful forces.
The landscape was harsh, with heavy winds cornering the breath lingering in the air making it seem as if they were without air. The soldiers huffed with reddened faces, facing one another each like hungering wolves. Their eyes had long since tasted war, and hence their aura shot forth deeply painting the figure of a six armed Asura laughing cruelly. As time ticked away, the noise that scattered about like tremblings of thunder, began to shudder and disappear.
The sun hung upwards, as if a spotlight painting the plain for the ten thousand God's to bare witness.
Huang Jiafei, the leading General, and prince of the Huang empire, son of the Imperial Prince and the next in line for the throne, he couldn't help but shudder. This would be his third battle, yet apart from a few skirmishers at the borders against the southern barbarians. Yet against those wild men, could it really be called being led by a great general?
Huang Jiafei knew his position wasn't earned fairly, and now compelled by duty to this war against Qing, all he could do was lament silently.
He kicked up a small dust cloud, and demanded some response from his military advisors. Yet they could only waddle their heads back and forth without any idea.
The enemy forces had exactly 800,000 soldiers. This included 200,000 elites from the Zhuge Empire sent as support. These elites were constantly training under the worst conditions and could charge even the Heavens into a ruin of flames and ash.
Their grit could shake mountains, and break the seas.
Meanwhile the Huang Empire forces, were still Concentrated in the southern borders, and thus the current army sent to suppress the rebellion was a group of levies to act as meat shields, 100,000 infantry men, 300,000 heavy and ordinary calvary troops, and 100,000 archers. They were outnumbered and outmatched.
"General, how about a Combat feast."
A combat feast was a most obscure military strategy, it involved sending the two strongest personages from the two armies, to a duel. It was similar to a martial duel, without the kindness and honor usually shown in such things. It was full of brutality, and madness. While the generals and the other troops were to eat and drink without ease. The person who won, would have considered to win the war. It was typically used between Territories that didn't wish to be completely destroyed in cases like rebellions such as this one, and in addition when the war was a farce.
Yet would the enemy agree?
Would the loss be taken well by his forces, would the enemy take the loss?
Worrying about everything, yet nothing, Huang Jiafei decided to throw everything away and focus on what could be done.
He brought forth a solider, after having written a notice and stamped it down, and said, "You are henceforth the envoy of the Huang Empire, and thus must conduct yourself with the majesty deserving of such a position. Take this letter of notice to the enemy camp, and return with their decision."
The solider nodded, and rushed away like a ghost in the wind.
Huang Jiafei touched the side of his nose, which stung heavily from a previous injury. His eyes flashing as thoughts roamed without result in his head.
Eventually a sigh escaped his lips.
...
The night buzzed, as two fierce forces confronted one another.
Blood seemed to drip from the sky producing a slight haze.
The crowds encircled one another, coiling and twisting like dragons.
Enemy a breath away, friends two steps away. It was a strange situation, one where death lingered coldly on the neck, yet carried forth by an inborn fighting instinct giving no cool to their foes.
Various fiefs ran about preparing various dishes, such as lamb and steak, each prepared with an overbearing retinue of herbs and spices to make one's spirit tremble with the delight of food. Fine red colored wine, drawn from the Western wastelands far away where the golden haired Foreigner's reside.
Huang Jiafei sat on a rather powerful throne, staring above all others with his military advisors beside him. To his side, was an aged figure with a thick scar having coated and blinded his eye. His bald head, with tuffs of hair at the side flew with the cold wind, as he stirred the wine in a golden, bejeweled chalice..
Huang Jiafei smiled awkwardly, and pushed forth his own chalice, "Haha, Brother Jiang, this wine from the Western lands is truly amazing! While those westerners suffer from a waste in martial talent, they indeed surpass us in technological advancement. Really the East should unite to combat those fellows, without a tight leash they are bound to get too arrogant and seize a chance!"
Jiang Tianhu, snorted, "Apart from being a useful valley of wine, and cooking means, what can those western wastes dare try? Our martial arts can seize whatever means they attempt!"
Huang Jiafei smiled, "That may be so, but I've heard some unkind rumors from the borders. Supposedly, not only are they united under some prince named Edward, they seem to possess the power to drum up Thunder, and call forth lighting. Of course these are just the mindless mutterings of the foolish commoners, it does leave a sour taste behind."
Jiang Tianhu smiled, "Are not the ancestors that lie silently, also capable to tearing mountains, and sinking seas? What those westerners do is no different from the southern barbarians heresy."
Old Liu, one of the most prominent advisors of the past three generations of the Huang dynasty, helping countless generals rule and conquer, suddenly said, "Imperial General, Peng Sanbei, is ready."
Meanwhile a old figure near Jiang Tianhu repeated the same for the Zhuge/Qing alliance combatant, named Xu Ci.
Huang Jiafei smiled, "Xu Ci is the foster son of the second prince am I right? He is known for his Bagua transformation, and Lion shaking roar. His martial abilities are impressive even as a Martial prince."
Jiang Tianhu nodded, "He is amazing. Your fighter his name is Peng Sanbei, I haven't heard of him, what martial arts does he practice?"
Huang Jiafei said softly, "Dragon grasping Punch, and Swift swan style."
...
Two men slowly faced one another, each leaking an impressive breath.
One was lean, with puffy eyes, nearly like a mantis. With long arms, and legs, he looked rather weird.
The other was rather ordinary, neither overly muscular or lean. He had rather dark skin, and short hair.
The lean man pushed off gently, sliding forth elegantly as if an Immortal. He quickly reached the side of the ordinary looking man.
His hand shot forth as a hook, hoping to shatter his enemies shoulder.
The ordinary looking man lowered his center of gravity, leaning to the side and as if a Shaolin monk got into a fighting stance. His raised hang swept forth like a whip, cackling as it flashed through the wind.
The two were shaken and moved backward, their steps causing the earth to groan and crack with each retreat.
Borrowing the force from the enemy, the ordinary looking man twirled like a dandelion in the wind. He moved closer, and shot a knee kick.
The lean man shrank his leg in, his knees touching. His fist shot downwards as a cut, hitting the ordinary mans knee, preventing it hitting his abdomen.
He then relaxed his legs, and shot a sweep towards the enemies shin.
The ordinary looking man spun yet again, dodging the attack easily. He then gathered energy in his gut, and began to shoot both his fists forth like bullets. The grumble of a hungry lion could faintly be heard echoing as his tendons snapped to place tightly flexing, and his muscles rose.
The lean man coiled his arms in front of his chest, and then took the power of the fist strikes. His ribs began to ache in pain, and his blood began to boil. Yet his feet were nailed tightly without giving an inch.
Suddenly he used all the enemy he gathered from the enemies attacks, to the move back.
He drifted upwards, flying. His spine rose, and energy sped towards his knuckles. He formed two claws, and split his toes. In his mind the image of a long and glorious Dragon coiling forth like a river, it collected the winds and seas with it's open mouth, it's claws stole mountains.
It then rose upwards to the Heavens, and was returned with a flash of blue struck forth.
The Dragon roared, as the seas and winds escaped it's mouth, and the mountains fell. Empires were washed away, aged statues of Gods broke, and the world was flattened.
A fist broke through the sky, and blood rose.
The ordinary looking man suddenly gazed downwards, there was a bowl sized hole in his stomach. Pieces of his heart could be seen wiggling, and his lungs trembled.
He collapsed down, dying.
The lean man whipped his hands which held blood, causing streaks of blood to appear around him.
Silence echoed.
The Lean man moved forward.
Yet before his steps could reach beyond the encirclement, a youthful solider with his visor down covering his face. He shot out his pike, it flew at breakneck speeds and hit into the lean mans neck, and then with a jerk he tore off the youths head.
It flew, and blood jumped, and the songs of war and tragedy sang.
The trembling string preventing war tore.
Men charged at one another, and blood spilt under the moonlight.
Meanwhile away from all this, an armored youth with his visor down appeared at a mountain far away.
He pulled up the visor, and looked downwards with a sigh.
His black hair swaying forth with the winds.
Wu Motian shook his spear, and plucked it down. Sitting as he set in motion a prelude.
