The Storm King
Chapter 1202: Fleeing Cloud

The sky had turned orange from the fire, the screams echoed across the city, and the iron stench of blood was in the air. The people hid in their homes as men armed and armored thundered through the streets in search of something they refused to share with the people of the Imperial City.

Despite Zhang’s power, sweat still beaded on his brow. He held his breath as several soldiers blazed past his hiding place.

‘They’re moving to secure the Yingtian Gate,’ he realized, noting how sure their steps were and how little they seemed to be searching. He could kill them all in a single stroke of Mountain Cleaver, but that might attract attention, and he was no longer the only tenth-tier mage in the city. He had to be judicious in his use of force, especially since not all of those involved seemed to be in on this conspiracy.

He slowly began to breathe again as he glanced around and made brief eye contact with his charge—Yun was still dressed in his night clothes, all black silk that, at the very least, helped him to blend into the shadows. The boy would attract plenty of attention on the street dressed as he was had it been daytime when they were forced to flee, and Zhang’s stomach clenched at the thought—her grandchild, the last person who remained in the world who carried her blood, reduced to such a state.

Zhang’s stony exterior cracked slightly as a weary sigh escaped his lips. He closed his eyes briefly, pondering just how in the name of the heavens that, in just a few short hours, he and his charge had been rendered fugitives in Yun’s own Empire…

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The day had begun slowly and unremarkably. Zhang, as always, had posted himself just outside of Yun’s bedchamber door, his tenth-tier power relieving him of the need to sleep. Still, it wasn’t the most comfortable state, but he tolerated it well. In the grand hallway leading to Yun’s ostentatious bedchamber were the only portraits of his family that yet remained that depicted them in a realistic style—all others were perfect, regal, noble, and stylized to the point of losing distinct physical characteristics.

With his magic senses projected throughout the Palace of Blue Stars, Zhang’s black eyes were free to lock onto her portrait—a youthful woman with a smile that could illuminate a room; glittering black hair tied into an elegant bun held up with a pair of phoenix-shaped pins; fair, moonlike skin; vermilion eyes that could pierce through any shield… Though her portrait had been made in a realistic style, it still took certain liberties, such as balancing out her regal smile that Zhang remembered as always lopsided. The way she’d looked at everyone around her was as if she were privy to all their secrets, which gave her endless amusement.

Given how extensively she controlled the palace complex while the Emperor was busy with other business, Zhang would’ve believed her if she’d made that claim.

It never ceased to enrage Zhang to remember her end—poisoned by a concubine jealous of her position within the Emperor’s harem. The guilty concubine was caught with the poison in her possession, and Yun’s grandfather had her boiled alive. The concubine’s screams had been no balm to the wound that the Empress’ death left, though, not in the Emperor or in Zhang, who had long sworn his spear to her service.

On reflection, Zhang felt like he could trace the Empire’s current problems back to that moment when, on the way back to her quarters after feeling a chill, she’d collapsed into his arms and coughed up blood.

It was the beginning of the series of tragedies that had left Yun as the last of the dynasty, and given how convenient many of the ‘tragedies’ were and who benefited from them, Zhang was certain more of them were orchestrated than were widely known. The suspicious death of Fang Bao and the city guard’s unenthusiastic investigation despite Fang Bao’s importance only confirmed Zhang’s suspicions.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard his Lord stirring within his bedchamber—something only he could hear thanks to his privileged position. At the same time, a pair of the few remaining palace servants that made up the palace’s shrinking staff came walking down the hallway bearing Yun’s breakfast of sweet rice porridge and dragon grapes, the redness of their skin testifying to their freshness. The Palace of Blue Stars’ handful of remaining staff were some of the few that Zhang could trust to have Yun’s best interests in mind, but he didn’t make way until the servants halted in front of him and ate a spoonful each of the porridge and several of the dragon grapes.

Zhang kept his Lord company while he ate, but it was a silent meal as Yun was no morning person. It wasn’t until near midday that he managed to haul himself out of bed, but once he did, he took to the day’s tasks with all the vigor that Zhang would expect of a great Emperor. First came hard training, which Yun devoted himself almost fanatically to ever since Fang Bao’s death. It hadn’t even been two months, but Zhang could sense Yun starting to approach the boundary of the fifth-tier. The control exercises were coming easier to him, and soon, he’d be using fire magic just as his forebears had.

Following the day’s training, Yun poured over maps and correspondence; he had no real responsibilities given to him by the Regency Council, but he did his best to stay informed of the goings-on of his Empire. Fang Bao may have been gone, but there were other allies he might call upon if he could only get word to them of his predicament. Unfortunately, the regents weren’t helping in that regard given they were the problem, and the Grand Tutor Wang Jujun was certainly reading all of his letters, so nothing would get out unless he wanted it to.

The afternoon was devoted to studying, as Wang Jujun had been taking his educational responsibilities more seriously after the Fang Bao affair. Zhang had been sure to pay special attention during the Emperor’s lessons, though he doubted the vile eunuch would make any overt moves.

Zhang himself had some friends on the outside of the palace complex, and the palace servants were able to get word out to them. Wang Jujun maintained that the search for Fang Bao’s replacement was ongoing, but one of Zhang’s friends in the Northern Army had shared a rumor with him that one of Wang Jujun’s kinsmen was already in command of the Void Wolves, though no official proclamation had been made.

The snake’s bind was growing tighter, and there wasn’t much that Zhang could do without direct action. Were he to cross that line, however, other forces in the Empire would certainly retaliate.

When Yun’s lessons were over, the Emperor retired to the Palace of Blue Stars. He would’ve spent time in his private library studying history and philosophy were they under normal conditions, but with the need to get out of the palace growing by the day as servants were reassigned away from the Palace of Blue Stars, and the guard detail around the palace were increasingly made up of men that Zhang didn’t recognize, Yun studied geography and tactics. The day would come when they had to flee—both Zhang and Yun knew this—but neither had thought it would come so soon.

Not even an hour after Yun had gone to bed, the day itself not seeming out of the ordinary, a formation of five hundred came marching from the main palace complex to the Palace of Blue Stars, and Zhang’s blood ran cold when he saw who was leading them: Xiang Qi, one of the few other tenth-tier mages in the Empire, and a brutal warrior. Zhang hadn’t even known that he was in the Imperial City, and now he was marching on Yun’s palace.

Zhang took no chances and almost tore Yun’s door down in his haste to get inside. Yun was startled awake, but as a groggy question took shape upon his tongue, the enchantments in the room failed.

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“On your feet, Elevated One!” Zhang shouted as Yun flailed in the dark. “The day has come to leave!”

Yun had barely even gotten out from beneath the covers before one of the windows, little more than paper and wood without the enchantments protecting them, shattered as a body came flying in—Wu Fei, a ninth-tier mage affiliated with Wang Jujun, landed in the bedchamber.

“My apologies, Elevated One,” he glibly sneered, “but I’m afraid I arrived too late to stop your assassin!” In the same moment that he drew a straight sword from his soul realm, the other three windows in the bedchamber exploded as others vaulted in, including Xiang Qi. All were armed and armored.

Yun’s bedchamber was quite large, and Yun himself slept on a bed raised on a high platform in the center of the chamber. The four assassins had him and Zhang surrounded.

Yun held himself with as much poise as he could, but the young man trembled with fear. White-armored Zhang’s fingers tightened around Mountain Cleaver, and he whispered to the terrified Emperor, “Leave this to me. It shouldn’t take long.”

Vermilion eyes turned to him, sparkling with unshed tears. A tenth-tier mage and three ninth-tiers had them surrounded, and more soldiers were breaking into the palace from other directions. Given Zhang didn’t even know that Xiang Qi was in the city, there could very well be others who could threaten him around, too.

“Brave,” Xiang Qi drawled, his accented speech signifying his half-barbarian origins from the Empire’s periphery, “but foolish. Throw down your spear, Zhang; you are not our target.”

Zhang stood between Xiang Qi and Yun, though he remained cognizant of the other three at all times. “None shall pass me to harm my Emperor, the Child of Heaven!” Zhang declared, his magic backing his words up to shake the entire palace complex. “So I have said; so shall it be!”

“Fine,” Xiang Qi growled. “The fun way it will be…”

With a look from Xiang Qi, Wang Jujun’s creatures conjured their magics and bombarded Zhang and Yun. Zhang planted Mountain Cleaver and conjured a protective sphere of white light, but as the bombardment continued, the sphere quickly began to crack. With cold, silent precision, Zhang threw Yun to the ground and roughly kicked the Emperor under his bed. Then, while keeping his shield up as long as he could, he charged.

Mountain Cleaver’s shining blade cut through Xiang Qi’s fell flames like a ship through calm water. Steel met steel as the traitor raised his sword and met Zhang head-on. The shockwave of their meeting blasted the roof off the bedchamber and hurled the other three turncoats into the walls.

Piercing light erupted from Mountain Cleaver’s tip, extending past Xiang Qi’s blade and nearly impaling the man’s head. A burst of flame forced them apart, and Xiang Qi grinned madly at Zhang. “Our duel will be spoken of for generations!” he shouted.

Zhang disagreed. Xiang Qi was strong, but he was no great warrior. He was a butcher, plain and simple—quite literally, too, as he’d made a living in his younger years as a butcher of pigs. Zhang was a warrior without equal, at least on Jiaxing and perhaps in all the Empire.

‘Ten bouts,’ he thought as he charged Xiang Qi again.

To his surprise, Xiang Qi held out for twelve bouts before Zhang finally struck him just below the chin, severing the straps keeping Xiang Qi’s helmet on and knocking the traitor to the ground. With Xiang Qi’s helmet rolling away, Zhang lowered his spear and blasted the traitor’s head to dust with burning light. Xiang Qi died without so much as a whimper.

The other three mages had difficulty getting through Zhang’s barrier even while he was occupied with Xiang Qi as the chaos of their duel nearly turned Yun’s bedchamber into a smoking crater, but Zhang felt his barrier protecting Yun shatter just as the searing light that killed Xiang Qi faded.

He turned, death in his eyes and on the tip of his spear, and launched himself at the traitors. More were charging through the halls as his duel with Xiang Qi had likely been noticed by the entire city, and he needed to eliminate these three quickly before the rest of the force arrived.

One thrust caught one of the ninth-tier mages unprepared and separated his sword arm from his shoulder. The man filled the air with a scream of agony, but Zhang was already bringing Mountain Cleaver down upon the next assassin before the first hit the ground. The second assassin managed two bouts before Zhang’s Mountain Cleaver slipped past his armor and caught him in the armpit. Searing light burned the assassin from the inside out, and in a moment, Zhang whipped his spear around and tossed the newly deceased body at the nearest wall.

The sight that greeted him as he faced the last assassin chilled his blood. The last man had dragged Yun out from the bed despite the Emperor’s violent defiance and now held a knife to the young man’s throat.

“Drop your weapon, Zhang,” he commanded.

“Wu Fei,” Zhang growled. “Have you no honor? A blade to your Emperor’s throat?!”

“It will taste Imperial blood if you don’t stand down.”

Yun interjected, shouting even as he continued to vainly struggle against Wu Fei’s tight grip, “You intend to kill me anyway! Zhang, act! I command you!”

Zhang didn’t think; he only acted. He shot forward, his body glowing with white light but his eyes were pitch-black windows to death’s realm; Wu Fei shouted in surprise and brought his arm up as Yun dropped to the floor. Mountain Cleaver, the spear blade shining like a star, bit into Wu Fei’s steel-clad arm and shot straight through. A miserable scream tore through the air as the rest of the traitor’s force charged into the bedchamber. Zhang pivoted and twisted around to face the new enemy, Mountain Cleaver moving with him and tearing Wu Fei’s arm off at the elbow.

A beam of light shot from Mountain Cleaver, cutting a dozen of the powerful mages leading the new force in half at the waist, and forcing the rest scurrying like rats back down the hall.

The first of the ninth-tier mages to lose his arm rose, hatred writ large across his round features, overpowering even his agony.

For the briefest of moments, Zhang considered letting him live, but as the man’s bloodshot eyes flickered in Yun’s direction, Zhang lunged, sinking Mountain Cleaver into the man’s breastplate. Steel parted before his glowing weapon and flesh followed suit. Blood burst from the mage like a fountain, and his remaining arm came up, cold mist drifting from his fingers as he tried and failed to summon his power in his defense. He fell to join Xiang Qi in death.

Wu Fei groaned as he crawled across the floor, and Zhang nearly ended him there. However, a fireball came careening through the door, and Zhang had to focus on Yun’s protection as more damaging magic followed suit. Shields of light protected them as Zhang grabbed his Emperor and took to the sky.

Almost immediately, he was forced back down as arks descended from the firmament directly above the palace. With Yun rather unceremoniously tucked under his arm, Zhang hefted Mountain Cleaver in his other hand and employed extreme violence to see him and his Emperor freed. Finally, Mountain Cleaver proved its name wasn’t simple grandiosity as Zhang blasted his way through the palace’s outer walls, and he and Yun made their escape into the city…

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Yun shivered beside him, and Zhang turned his attention back to his charge. They were huddled behind some trash in an alleyway, enough to use as concealment just long enough to get in a quick breather, but no longer.

“They… they tried to…” Yun breathlessly heaved, emptying the remains of his dinner onto the ground. Zhang didn’t begrudge him this; he’d never been part of such violence before.

“More the fools, they,” he quipped, showing as much confidence as he could for his young charge. “There are others in the Empire who are still loyal to you, Elevated One. Wang Jujun may hold this city, but the Empire as a whole belongs to you, and you alone.”

“Zhang…” Yun whispered, his face twitching with more emotion than he could express.

“Follow me, Elevated One,” Zhang whispered as he held out his hand. “We’ll find those still loyal, we’ll find allies, we’ll build an army and return to this city. This isn’t the end.”

Yun’s features finally settled on an emotion: determination. “Yes!” he said, and though his voice still trembled, the strength that Zhang had so long ago recognized in her shone through in her grandson. “We’ll go south! This isn’t the end! We’ll find allies and strike back! Make these traitors regret the day turned their cloaks!”

Zhang smiled at the fire whipped up in his charge, and his smile grew as fire began to burn at the tips of the young man’s fingers. His aura crackled and snapped, and in a moment, grew—Yun, in his emotional state, had suddenly ascended to the fifth-tier.

“Come, Elevated One,” Zhang said. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes!” Yun replied, but he grabbed Zhang’s arm just as the man was about to creep back out into the night. “Yun. We’re past titles, my friend. Just ‘Yun’.”

Familiar vermilion eyes stared back at him, echoing words he’d heard before. Zhang looked away as his eyes began to sting.

“Yes…” he whispered. “… Yun.”

With that, Emperor and bodyguard both stole away into the night, vengeance burning in their hearts; vengeance hot enough to set all of the Empire aflame…