The Warrior Scholar Chronicles. Ink and Moon on Rice Paper.

Prologue An even bigger fate. (Pit 358)

Prologue. "Ink and Moon on Rice Paper" the Warrior Scholar Chronicles.

Resting within the tundra hills of the Northern Nanjing Empire stands the illustrious domain of the Silver Circle Sect, a world apart from the bustling capital city of Huǒshān. Perched atop a towering Tor, the venerable Duke Gong governs over the Sect's Scholarly City, School, and Orphanage with authority and wisdom.

Though, the true significance lies beyond the city's embrace, in a land shrouded in peril—the labyrinthine pits and trenches, an endless maze intertwining between the city and the treacherous northern reaches of the Tianyun Mountains.

Crafted by the skilled hands of master cultivators from ages past, these ancient fortifications stand as stalwart guardians, proudly defending the empire's borders. For millennia, they have been meticulously maintained to repel the onslaught of ferocious heavenly beasts that descend from the mountain pass.

With their towering height and fortified layers of stormsteel, the ironstone walls project an air of invincibility, instilling a feeling of security to the nearing cities inhabitance  and beyond. 

As the beasts multiply with each passing season, this intricate maze serves as a formidable deterrent. Despite the harrowing cost in lives, the defender's courage stands as a testament to valour. 

Part One Pit 358

Mu Er stared at the mass of flies, that twirled like a dark whirlwind, encircled each dead body, their incessant hum punctuating the stillness. They swarmed over the remains of the fallen, their wings a blur as they danced, drawn by the scent of decay and the allure of a grim feast.  

The young runner's eyes scanned the massacre before him, shifting uneasily from one lifeless form to another. The sheer number of bodies was overwhelming, making it impossible to count them all.

Despite his usually unassuming demeaner, Mu Er stood motionless amidst the vast ironstone trench and deep pit, the only pathway to the surface in this desolate, inhuman place.

"I detest this relentless churn in my gut," he ruminated, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing moment. Nine days had slipped by since he made that ill-fated choice, yet its repercussions continued to weigh heavily upon him. Now, standing in this moment, he remained ensnared by the haunting spectre of his decision.

Mu Er grimaced as the putrid stench assaulted his senses, mingling with the chaos of battle. Flies buzzed incessantly, while bugs and scavenging birds added to the macabre scene. The overwhelming odour threatened to overwhelm even the bravest of soldiers.

As the fighting dragged on, Mu Er couldn't help but wonder how his fellow soldiers endured this foulness day after day. The reality of battle was far removed from the romanticized tales spun back at the school. Here, amidst the reek of death and decay, stood Mu Er, grappling with the harsh truth of war.

Casting a fleeting glance skyward, Mu Er exhaled a sigh of relief upon noticing the absence of the bothersome carrion crows. Their incessant caws had begun to grate on his nerves, their persistent calls becoming an unwelcome soundtrack to his weary ears. Would their clamour ever cease? he pondered yet thankful for the moments of respite but would it last.

As he gazed upon the pit strewn with lifeless forms, a profound sense of insignificance washed over him. Despite this feeling of smallness, a simmering anger began to kindle within his chest.