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month record rogue 5 1 1
According to the scholars' deductions, a wounded Feranmut is currently hiding within the barren hills. Firstly, to conceal itself. Secondly, It may have already discovered the grand installations that were to be used against It—such as repeating crossbows on the great wooden burdenbeast—could not be deployed on such rugged terrain. Mankind would thus be forced to pay a much greater price to be rid of It. The Feranmut more or less understands how mankind thinks, knowing they would not choose this site to wage war.
The way this conflict has developed, mankind has stumbled upon a means to harm or even slay Feranmuts, whilst the Feranmuts know well the limitations of mortals. Mortals use their eyes to discern the truth, so deceiving them is simple. And thus, the most difficult part about this war is precisely determining your target's position. The vanguard will carefully compare the terrain to maps, but after many years of fighting, it is hard to determine if the changes are from prior battles, or from the Feranmut's influence.
Suddenly, chaos breaks out in the advance party. Some have gone mad, screaming in fear while brandishing their swords at their comrades. From the stones and rotting wood and other materials all around them arise geists, who charge at the soldiers. When they notice some of those geists are the 'weapons' of their fallen friends, the soldiers are forced to grit their teeth and fight through it. At first, they are reluctant to draw steel against their fellows, but soon they lose the ability to distinguish reality from illusion. The path out has been blocked by shifting stones, and those trapped in the ravine are locked in mortal combat with both themselves and the geists.
A shrill whistle cuts through the air. The troops being attacked have endured until the appointed hour. Together, they fire their arrows, the streamers affixed to them forming a wobbly scarlet circle in the sky that casts a wide shadow. Several bamboo wings come spiraling over, buoyed by the power of wind Arts. Performing their incantations and gestures with a single hand, Lei Fa Tianshis call thunder and lightning upon the mountains in the middle of the 'circle'. The 'mountains' cry out, revealing their true form. Its shell extends on and on like an entire range, Its stubby limbs underneath.
'Found you,' muttered the young general next to the Tianshis.
The Feranmut may be wounded, but It was still hard to approach, and well-hidden in a natural fortress. It will not allow the troops to slowly close in, happy to wipe them out if they do so. However, the scholars' investigations revealed that there will always be a concentration of geists around a wounded Feranmut, a sort of chaos bound to arise wheresoever they roam. By feigning attacks along multiple routes, so long as they form a rough circle, the center of that circle will inevitably be the location of the Huangsheng.
As Huangsheng are born from the land, Its essence is earth, and so lightning shall subdue It.
Clouds darken and wind howls, lightning flashes and thunder rolls. The five thunders crackle and roar, and the sky is split asunder.
There is one issue with using the might of the Tianshis instead of grand installations. The bamboo wings they fly upon are simple things, and they cannot easily evade the Feranmut's attacks. After enduring that first mighty blow, the Feranmut staggers to Its feet, causing mountains to quake and men to watch helplessly as their comrades fall into rifts in the earth, ones that tear open all around them and converge. A single flick of the Feranmut's tail, and the gust it summons sends half of the bamboo wings plummeting to the ground. Dust and wailing fills the air. If they do not slay It before all the wings crash, then the battle is lost, along with this opportunity!
Each bolt of lightning called by the Tianshis strikes Its vitals, but Its stomach is a forge, and plates of iron protect It. Soldiers on the ground crawl atop crushed boulders to attempt firing crossbow bolts with rope attached to subdue It, but they are far weaker than their giant cousins, and soon all the ropes are snapped. There must be a way to have It expose Its weak point, at least just for a second...
'I shall take to the field.' The young general calmly takes hold of a waiting beastkite. This part of the strategy, nobody objected to. He downs some pills prepared earlier, then launches the beastkite, evading the Feranmut's sweeping tail. From atop the bamboo wing, he leaps down, landing atop Its back. The pills gradually take effect as he lands. He loses grasp of his senses. His ears do not hear, his nose does not smell. With senseless sense, there is no truth or falsity, no distinction between form and image. He also loses grasp of his thoughts. With thoughtless thought, there is no link between cause and effect, no chain stopping him from coming and going as he pleases.
He sees only a sliver of dim light, as if the Feranmut's eyes are burning with rage after finding Its attacks ineffective.
After his agile, graceful landing, his muscle memory lights a fuse, running a trail of explosive powder along the 'mountain ridge', ensuring it falls into the gaps under the Feranmut's armor.
It is a wonder how, from formulation to execution, he has never once hesitated in carrying out the plan. At this very moment, all that occupies his mind are gentle sights. His father giving him a rare smile of approval, his mother making him local snacks, worried he might be homesick, the flaming beacons atop the city walls, sweet and sour fruit of buckthorn...
BOOM—
A peal of thunder echoes as the Feranmut's flesh is blasted apart, striking Its vitals. It writhes in pain before finally being buried under crumbling mountains. It is still.
Across the battlefield, the bamboo wing that rescued the young general dashes against a rock, a Tianshi with a face covered in blood cursing that foolhardy plan while shoving an antidote into the planmaker's mouth.
Yet another victory bought with the sacrifice of countless lives. For whatever reason, the cheers of the victorious troops die out. They pull what few survivors they find from the rubble and, leaning against one another, head on home.
