Chapter Twenty No More Weakness

CHAPTER TWENTY

NO MORE WEAKNESS

I don’t like being at the frontier and worrying about the war that much better than being in Chang’an and worrying about getting impregnated, but I aim to make every second productive while waiting for my qì to recuperate for battle.

I lend the Fox’s second set of spirit armor to Qieluo to try and go into a dream realm with her. It turns out to be far less vivid than what Qin Zheng and I usually manifest, no more than vague shapes and colors. He wasn’t lying about dream connections being less stable between two people further apart in spirit pressure. I don’t think I’ll be able to generate a coherent realm with anyone with a lower pressure than Qieluo—which is basically everyone else in Huaxia .

I do my best to pass on what I’ve learned from Qin Zheng so far. It’s not much, given I’ve only had two lessons, but what’s important is reviving the practice of pilots imparting experiences to each other instead of relying on strategists. Dream sharing is one of those things someone can’t really learn unless they get a demonstration, though after they go through it once, it’s easy for them to replicate. In the following nights we’re here, Qieluo can spread the ability to other pilots at the Han frontier, starting with the handful of female pilots in Duke-class Balanced Matches, who can relay it to Count-class Balanced Matches, and so on. Those girls can also pass it to their partners, who can then pass it to other male pilots.

It makes me wonder how the existing Balanced Matches processed the revelation that the seat inputs were unequal in the old order, and therefore they aren’t actually balanced with their partners. What kind of conversations did that spark? Qin Zheng exempted their Chrysalises from recalibrations to avoid throwing off these already rare Matches, but it must’ve changed something between every pair to know the girl is stronger after all. I call one such girl in a Duke-class Balanced Match over to my watchtower to talk—Dou Yifang, her name is—but I fail to get anything more than awkward, overly formal answers out of her. Personal connections were never my strong suit, and my new status as empress makes things infinitely worse. I’m almost jealous to see Wan’er constantly messaging people on her tablet in her downtime, including Taiping, who she hasn’t given up debating. They certainly have plenty to argue about, with everything going on in the revolution.

For some reason, the thought of the two of them makes me wonder something else: If Qieluo and I can successfully connect into a dream realm, what’s stopping two people of the same gender from piloting a Chrysalis together?

I can’t see a technical reason it wouldn’t work, though I can’t find an easy excuse to test it, either. Chrysalises aren’t things to be activated on a whim; they always carry the danger of death. I don’t want to risk any more girls’ lives, and male pilots would sooner let themselves be crushed by a Hundun than pilot with another boy.

I banish the curiosity to the back of my mind, along with any thoughts about the Hunduns themselves. I distract myself with lessons from Wan’er, practicing my reading and writing every day until I struggle to keep my head up. Whenever my eyes fall closed, if it’s not nightmares that come for me, it’s memories of Qin Zheng’s desk full of open books and his ability to counter the officials’ every doubt with data and theory. It always fuels me with a scorching drive to read a few more pages or write a few more characters. I want the power to sway millions with my words as well, a power I could rely on even if I can’t get to a Chrysalis. Wan’er’s slogans worked for that one rally, but it takes more than that to truly push Huaxia in the direction I want. I have no intention of abiding by the choice of being either a mindless brute or a baby-making vessel.

In addition to tutoring me in history and politics, Wan’er reads me her favorite pieces from female-edited journals that circulate among literate women. I had no idea there were publications like that. She tells me women used to be able to go to universities, but after reactionaries blamed the loss of “traditional values” for the fall of Zhou, the government found excuses to expel them from higher-level schools. Gangs then went around attacking any woman who didn’t act as they saw fit, from those walking alone on the streets to those who showed too much skin to those not having bound feet.

When Wan’er shows me grainy photos of corpses dumped naked in the streets with their breasts cut off, my brain can’t even process the images in a way that summons rage. I just feel empty, mourning the destruction of a world I never knew.

A world that can’t be born anew unless I can safeguard the revolution.

The big screen in our loft is constantly on in the background, updating us with policy changes and revolutionary activity across Huaxia. Things happen so fast, it’s like we’re waking up to a different world each morning. Every day, there come explosive investigations on the richest men in Huaxia and reports of peasants forcing their landlords to burn their land titles.

To Wan’er’s dismay, people have definitely gotten killed by now. I admire her faith in humanity, but we’ve both experienced how a crowd can get carried away. Watching her scroll on her tablet, I’ve seen at least one video of a mob parading a dismembered body around. Qin Zheng condemns these spontaneous killings as the work of “counter-revolutionary provocateurs” and calls on the masses to not fall for their tricks to make the revolution look bad, but he also never encourages soldiers to crack down hard on the common people. Those deemed to have used excessive force to subdue crowds get severely penalized and shamed.

I’ve realized that the military’s loyalty is the single most important factor to make or break the revolution, and it’s hanging in a very precarious balance. The military was built to defend the interests of the rich and powerful, after all. Qin Zheng’s return superseded all chains of command for the time being, but the instinct they honed for years was to point their guns at the masses to herd them in line. If I were an average soldier, I’d be pretty confused right now. If I were an officer from an elite family, I’d be tempted to believe Zhuge Liang’s assertion that Qin Zheng didn’t quite come back right and is being manipulated, and therefore it’s okay to plot against him.

What I must do is convince them it’s not okay to plot against me , either. That even if they suspect something is wrong with Qin Zheng, I am also a force to be reckoned with. Although my skills are underdeveloped, I know I have raw piloting prowess on par with the likes of Yang Guang, Shimin, and Qin Zheng. People made up supernatural conspiracies in their refusal to believe it, but after I go to battle independent of a legendary male pilot, we’ll see how much denial they can still summon.

Soldiers bow to strength. Despite all my studying, sometimes it really does come down to showing everyone how big your Chrysalis is.

After a stretch of pleasant weather that spares me from the battlefield for longer than expected, Hundun sirens ring out for my area on a cloudy night.

I lurch to attention at my desk, shaking my sore wrist. Wan’er, in the middle of another digital argument with Taiping, drops her tablet and helps me to the loft’s descent pole. Although my feet are getting better by the day, they need another few weeks to heal completely. Carefully, I nudge open the circle of metal plates around the descent pole. A sharp ocean wind blows in, smelling of salt and algae.

“May Your Highness return in glorious victory!” Wan’er shouts over the wind and sirens.

I grip the pole tighter. The drop to the docking bridge suddenly seems steeper, the wind howling louder through the opening. I imagine my body landing in a contorted heap on the gridded metal.

No . Enough of that.

Pushing through the stiffness in my limbs, I hook one leg around the pole and leap through the opening. My armor screeches against the metal, sending sparks into the night. I raise my knees and angle myself so I land on my behind instead of my feet. It couldn’t have looked graceful, but thankfully the camera drones haven’t flown up to me yet. With one hand on the bridge railing, I make my way toward the Fox.

A minute or so later, an elevator opens at the back of the bridge, revealing Di Renjie and his soldier escorts in a spill of light. It’s my first sight of him since the Tianlao. I told myself I was letting him heal in peace, but honestly I feel a little bad about what he went through, especially since the technicalities of his plea deal prevented him from being included in Qin Zheng’s mass pardon. My first memories of Shimin come rushing back at the sight of Di Renjie’s reflective orange jumpsuit. I compel myself to pick out their differences: Di Renjie isn’t collared or muzzled, and no guns point at him. No reluctance weighs down his limbs. He strides toward me with such determination that it looks as though he’s leading the soldiers instead of the other way around.

“Your Highness, remember what I asked of you?” he says while climbing into the cockpit with me, the frailty in his voice the only indication that he’s been through major surgery.

Ugh. His words ring in my ear: “ You must promise me one thing: that you’ll fight for the rest of the voiceless as hard as you fight for yourself. ”

“Haven’t you heard about the mass pardon of political prisoners?” I whisper. “That was my proposal.”

“That is not enough.”

A twinge of outrage shoots through me, but I don’t argue with him. I just plant myself in the yáng seat and look away as he takes the yīn seat in front of me and unzips his jumpsuit. Once the soldiers leave the cockpit and slam its hatch shut, I mentally feel for the section of spirit metal that’s touching Di Renjie’s back. I pierce the hair-thin connection needles into his spine. A grunt jolts in his throat. His qì surges into the Fox, the same Metal white as mine.

Interesting, I think as I let my consciousness fall into the Fox like a drop of ink into water.

Curves and edges of spirit metal sharpen in my senses until my human body fades and the world flickers back to me through the Fox’s massive eyes.

The barren terrain outside the Great Wall stretches before me under the cloudy night, transitioning to pink sand before crashing into roiling ocean waves. Swarms of Hunduns skitter out from the shoreline like bedbugs, already making alarming progress across the beach. The battle leeway is truly tiny compared to what we get at inland frontiers. Wasting no more time, I bound toward them on all fours in the Fox’s Standard Form. Its paws land like muffled thunder in the sandy soil. Di Renjie’s consciousness lingers as a mere phantom at the back of my mind, leaving me alone in my piloting efforts.

Soon, camera drones fly up, buzzing like mosquitoes around the Fox’s head. I become piercingly aware of how thousands and thousands of eyes must be about to judge every move I make, and that their judgment will decide if girls in general can command Chrysalises in their own right. As far as I can see to either side of me, the Chrysalises parked at adjacent watchtowers remain dormant. The Han strategists are trusting me to handle this whole stretch of the coastline by myself.

Or perhaps they want me to fail.

Up closer, the ocean foam curls like paper before fizzing out on the dim pink shore. Each heaving wave brings a tumble of more Hunduns onto the beach. They funnel into a tight formation and come for me.

I know what I’m supposed to do: meet them and smash. Kill, kill, and kill until they retreat. Yet the more I prepare to do it, the worse my nausea grows. Is it possible to vomit in a Chrysalis? I don’t think I want to find out.

“ Humans…Scourge of the universe… ” the Metal Emperor’s unnatural voice repeats in my head.

Just before I collide with the Hunduns, something snaps inside me. I take a sharp turn, racing the Fox parallel to the besieged shoreline.

“ Your Highness, may I inquire as to what your strategy is? ” Head Strategist Huo asks through the Fox’s cockpit speakers.

I have no idea is the answer I cannot give. Hunduns and camera drones swerve after me, giving chase from above and below. More Hunduns splash out of the ocean, their six insectoid legs kicking up sprays of sand and foam. I leap the Fox over them, but they’re emerging too quickly for me to avoid them much longer.

“ Your Highness, not vanquishing the Hunduns in your vicinity will only draw a larger swarm around you! ”

“I’m aware!” I shout through the Fox’s mouth, as if I have an actual plan.

Everyone awake in Huaxia must be watching this, my first battle as empress. How must the masses be judging me?

What is she doing?

She’s clueless.

A woman, after all.

With a hoarse shout, I turn around and smash the Fox’s front claws into the Hunduns. As several shatter, their dying rage shoots up the Fox’s limbs like the pain in my every human step. I stagger backward, right into another wave of Hunduns assailing me from behind. They crawl up the Fox’s hind legs while the swarm chasing me presses in from the front, parting around the remains of their kin. They have me surrounded. I keep stomping at them, but each burst of death stabs at something deep in my core, making me want to scream. Which is something I must not do. I can’t look like I’m scared or panicked.

No more weakness! I berate myself. I’ve toppled a government, killed my family, and sacrificed countless innocents for power. What would’ve been the point of all that if I falter before I can make as substantial of a change as rebuilding the Iron Widows?

I smash and crush and trample the Hunduns, imagining them as the invaders I’m supposed to believe they are. Yet the anguish and fury surging into me from their collective dying moments make the lie impossible to slip back into. I kill them while screaming apologies in my heart, as if that makes any difference. I kill so many that gleaming fragments of spirit metal pile up around the Fox like a new, coarser layer of sand. It does nothing to deter the Hunduns. They don’t stop coming my way, pouring over the carcasses of their fallen. I shake the Fox’s body and thrash its nine tails to keep from being smothered in Hunduns.

“ Your Highness, transforming to Ascended Form will allow you to wield a weapon! ” Strategist Huo’s voice sieves through the overwhelming sounds of Hundun legs scratching against the Fox.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I yell.

The gawking red eyes of camera drones, enclosing me as aggressively as the Hunduns, become too much to bear. I charge toward the one place I can be free from their scrutiny: the ocean.

I splash through waves, deeper down the seabed, ever more sluggish, until the Fox is entirely submerged. I reinforce the cockpit to keep it airtight. I don’t know where I’m going, just that I need a moment to hear myself think. I prowl along the mushy ocean bottom, movements slowed by pitch-black water and a bunch of very persistent Hunduns clinging to the Fox’s legs. Strategist Huo’s frantic shouts crackle into static, then into silence.

I let the Fox go still in the crushing darkness. Its massive body, insignificant compared to the ocean, hits the seabed in slow motion. I remind myself of what’s to come if I can’t get back up and dazzle Huaxia: the fall of the Han frontier, the end of the revolution as blame gets thrown around, the women who danced around burning luxury carriages and marched in my rally getting beaten back into the slums, corpses with their breasts cut off, girls with crushed feet. Even if I don’t die here, Qin Zheng would execute me for showing anything less than overwhelming might. He wouldn’t tolerate an empress who chokes during battle. Is there really no way out of this war unless we take down the gods first? The stars are so far away.

Shimin is so far away.

Hunduns float around me in nearly every direction, illuminated from within by their cores of qì. Unable to make the Fox talk underwater, I can only think the things I wish the Hunduns could know.

I’m sorry.

They lied to us.

We didn’t know.

None of the common people know.

I found out, but they won’t let me tell the truth. They’d kill me and brand me a liar.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

It takes me a few seconds to realize the Hunduns aren’t simply being hindered from attacking me by water pressure. Many linger on the Fox, yet none of them make an effort to burrow inside.

Can you understand me? I think as hard as I can.

I hear no response, yet I swear a fresh wave of emotion rushes into me, the kind of bitter sadness that remains after anger burns out.

Wait—if pilots can feel the Hunduns’ emotions when in a Chrysalis, can Hunduns feel ours as well?

Before I can seek an answer, many Hunduns suddenly swing around, alert. A whoosh of water heaves our way, swaying smaller Hunduns off balance.

I activate my spirit sense. Beyond the thick gathering of Hunduns, a large spirit signature—at least Duke class—speeds toward us from the shore. For the Hunduns to react like this, it must be a Chrysalis.

They hurry away from me to go confront it, thin legs swimming furiously through the water. Particulates scatter in their dim auras.

No! I yell in my head. Don’t go fight it! Just leave!

I crawl after them in the Fox, water dragging at my movements. Through the darkness comes the green shine of two far-set Chrysalis eyes. Enormous black wings flap in slow motion at the unit’s sides, yet its head is that of a whale. It has to be the Whale Bird, a Water-type Chrysalis evoking the kūnpéng of legend.

The Hunduns gather in a writhing sphere around the Whale Bird. It pushes them back with hefty whirls of its wings and transforms to Ascended Form in a rupture of green light. Its whale head bends forward while the rest of its body swings vertical, becoming more humanoid. Wood-green lines trail down its belly from the wide line of its mouth. Thick arms separate out from its wings, each gripping a green-striped mace. It smashes Hunduns between the maces, producing sparks like firecrackers.

Stop! I mentally scream.

Neither side does.

Wood-green qì pulses along the stripes on the Whale Bird’s body, yet the speed boost the qì type grants is hardly effective underwater. The Hunduns wade past the currents fanned up by the Whale Bird’s wings and dig their sharp legs into its head like a swarm of hornets.

I can’t let this happen. The Whale Bird’s pilots can’t die because they came to help me. This battle would be seen as an utter catastrophe. Because of me, no girl would be allowed to command a Chrysalis again.

Pushing off the muddy seabed on the Fox’s front paws, I transform it into its own Ascended Form. Except, keeping in mind what Qin Zheng said about Chrysalis forms having no inherent rules, I don’t let it expand in size, so it’s not further encumbered underwater. Metal-white highlights edge in around the Fox’s individual pieces, refining them into shapes more intricate than what Yang Guang’s Earth-type qì used to produce. Its nine tails fan out into exceptionally sharp lances. I rear up on its straightening hind legs and reach over its developing shoulders to pry off one of the lances.

Swinging the lance as swiftly as the water allows, I clear a path through the Hunduns until I reach the Whale Bird. I loop the Fox’s arm around the Whale Bird’s much burlier elbow and drag it toward the shore. It beats its green-lined black wings to propel us faster. I continuously swipe Hunduns off its head with my lance.

Get away! I keep shrieking in my mind. I don’t want to kill you!

Our movements get looser and easier as the water gets shallower. The moment the Fox’s head breaks from the surface, I retch out the seawater in its vocal cavity.

“Why did you come?” I yell at the Whale Bird. “I had things under control!”

Not even a lie.

“I-it was an order!” the Whale Bird says out of its wide mouth, its voice unnaturally deep.

“ Apologies, Your Highness ,” Strategist Huo says, connection returning to the Fox’s cockpit speakers. “ We weren’t sure what was happening with you. ”

“His Majesty trained me in ways of piloting lost to the centuries!” I declare while wading toward the beach, knowing the rest of Huaxia will hear the excuse via the camera drones whirring overhead. “My methods are beyond your understanding, and you ruined them!”

As Strategist Huo apologizes profusely, I wonder if Qin Zheng is enduring his hatred of electronics to watch this battle live, or if he plans on evaluating it through my memories the next time we link up. Either way, he won’t be happy with me.

The Whale Bird’s lower half splits in two, tail fin reshaping into a pair of sturdy legs as we splash onto dry land. The pink sand looks much farther down than it did when the Fox was on all fours. I pivot back-to-back against the Whale Bird.

Unrelenting in their pursuit, Hunduns flood out of the waves.

Dread, frustration, and rage twist and tangle into a trembling knot within me. For a moment, there in the silent depths of the ocean, we achieved some sort of understanding. There’s a way for humans and Hunduns to communicate, if we would only stop killing each other long enough to figure it out.

But that’s no longer possible for the rest of this battle. Not as long as the Whale Bird is with me and the cameras are watching. If I shouted about what happened, no one would believe me. And even if they did, who would accept the idea of peace?

The Whale Bird smashes at the Hunduns with its maces. Not letting myself look slow to react, I pry off another lance to fight with both the Fox’s arms. The only way to salvage my performance in this battle is to outshine the Whale Bird.

“Out of my way!” I roar.

How did I think I could run from this? It’s not just my own fate on the line. I’m representing all the girls of Huaxia. I can’t fail them. I can’t die as pointlessly as my sister did.

I leap and stoop and spin through the Hunduns, not really that graceful, but it hardly matters when my lances are so sharp they slice through spirit metal like parting water. Though, as I fight, I realize there’s a much better weapon for this scenario. I connect my pair of lances perpendicularly at the ends and reshape them into a scythe. Qin Zheng will appreciate the imagery of this. The Peasant Empress, literally waging war with a scythe. I swing it low to shear apart whole swaths of common-class Hunduns and arc it high to deliver precision strikes to noble-class ones, so they can be easily reconstituted as Chrysalises. I push through the recoil of emotion from my kills by thinking of the kind of life that awaits millions of girls if I can’t seize power for us all. Of every time the world belittled me, abused me, failed me. My family breaking and binding my feet in hopes of selling me for a high price. My father striking me for the slightest disobedient look or retort. No one coming to my defense except Big Sister. Learning of Big Sister’s death. Realizing Yang Guang would not be held accountable. The Black Tortoise attacking me and Shimin on the Sages’ orders after we gave our everything to take back the Zhou province. The gods dangling Shimin’s life in their untouchable court in the skies. Qin Zheng imprisoning me. Qin Zheng in general. Qin Zheng. Qin Zheng. Qin Zheng .

When Hunduns finally stop coming out of the ocean, I double over in the Fox, leaning on my scythe to keep from collapsing. There’s no sand visible near me anymore, just a wide stretch of metallic carnage. It feels like I should be covered in blood. Instead, there are merely glinting shards of spirit metal caught in the Fox’s fur-like texture. A dusting of a pristine massacre, cold as the stars watching above.