Volume One, Chapter Eleven: Reason or Force?

Chapter Eleven: To Reason or to Fight?

Morasha-bi was the steward of the Exquisite Artisans’ Treasure Pavilion, but that did nothing to change his lowly status as a servant. Yet, one could not judge all things by a single standard. Just as Tu Zhe had witnessed some strange affairs in his previous life—for instance, a commoner driving a tricycle ran over a stray dog in the street, and rather than demanding compensation, the dog’s owner insisted the man don mourning and play the filial son for the dead “child”—so too did creatures of the same ilk meet vastly different fates. Take a village mutt and pit it against a socialite’s prized shar-pei: if the mutt dies, so be it—at most, a gatekeeper lost; its owner might miss it briefly, or perhaps it ends up in someone’s stew pot. The socialite’s shar-pei, on the other hand, was of far greater worth than any commoner—not for its own merit, but because its mistress was a lady of wealth and standing.

And truth be told, that socialite might not be so refined herself—she might grit her teeth, smack her lips, and perhaps be a big, rough, foul-smelling woman with a rank odor under her arm. But so what if she was? Was she not rich? If she did not see herself as a socialite, how could those commoners be expected to treat her as one?

Thus, Morasha-bi had long since accepted his role and the mindset that came with being a prized pet. After all, his master was none other than the Eighth Son, Huluzhina, one of the Ten Sons of the Lord of Shakra.

The Lord of Shakra had ten sons: Indraka, Kubaka, Pinduka, Pindubhaka, Akutaka, Chatuduka, Namashivaka, Huluzhina, Nanchaka, and Hulubhaka.

These ten sons were no trifling figures. Each was possessed of extraordinary powers and peerless might—when they stamped their feet atop Mount Sumeru, earth and sky trembled in awe. The Lord of Shakra was lofty and well-guarded, but in truth, he trusted no one. Only these ten sons were permitted near. They stood by his side in constant shifts—five at a time, two shifts a day, or all ten at once if need arose.

Among the thirty-three heavenly kings, the Lord of Shakra was first in martial prowess and divine power, and his eighth son, Huluzhina, inherited his father’s most formidable abilities: the Lightning Karma Severance and the Shakra Seal. Among the younger generation of celestial lords, few could match him.

Huluzhina was notorious for his cold-blooded ruthlessness, showing neither mercy nor courtesy to any prince or princess. As his celestial slave, Morasha-bi served him with utmost diligence and had, years ago, been installed as steward of the Exquisite Artisans’ Treasure Pavilion, becoming one of the most powerful servants beneath the sons of heaven. Of course, Morasha-bi’s position brought Huluzhina great tribute and benefit—this was no secret atop Mount Sumeru. The question was: who dared interfere? The lesser heavenly kings? The princes and princesses? Or the Disciplinary Hall, keeper of the Hammurabi Code? In theory, perhaps—but in practice, who among them truly knew their own worth?

That was why, when Morasha-bi heard someone calling his name loudly outside the pavilion, he found it incredible. Who was this madman? Had they lost their senses or taken leave of their wits? Did they not know who he was? Nearly everyone below the princes called him “lord”—who would dare challenge that? Yet never had anyone truly dared to step forward.

Morasha-bi grew indignant, preparing to show the full extent of his authority. He pushed aside the courtesans fawning over his thigh, ordered them out the side door, and—with his lackeys in tow—strode toward the great doors, feigning a dignified air.

A sweep of his divine sense told him the two scions of Lou Su were outside, but the pair standing at the fore were strangers. No matter—he would pretend ignorance and issue a show of force.

He stepped out and barked coldly, “Who is it, bellowing outside like a street hawker? Do you take the Exquisite Artisans’ Treasure Pavilion for a roadside stall?”

Tu Zhe, seeing Morasha-bi swagger out as if he owned the place, could not help but laugh inwardly. This lackey dares put on such airs?

Without another word, Tu Zhe shot forward, his figure blurring like a bolt of lightning. Drawing on the brute strength he’d once used to butcher pigs of several hundred pounds, amplified now by innate divine power, he caught Morasha-bi off guard. Though Morasha-bi’s abilities were not negligible and his reflexes quick, Tu Zhe seized his hands, swept his legs from under him, and sent him sprawling—no magic, no celestial art, just the rough-and-ready techniques of country folk. And so, the mighty celestial—well, celestial slave—was toppled.

Morasha-bi hit the ground hard, howling like a slaughtered boar. His attendants rushed to shield him and help him up.

“Insolence—!”

“How dare you lay hands on Lord Sha-bi—!”

“Boy, you’ve doomed yourself offending Lord Sha-bi—!”

The lackeys barked and yelped. Tu Zhe calmly returned to his group, watching in silence.

Gou Gou eyed him up and down, stars twinkling in her eyes. “Rogue Brother, what sort of power was that? It looked amazing…” She winked mischievously, her eyes like gemstones.

Tu Zhe teased her, “Oh, nothing special, just a grappling technique—‘Wild Boar Hold,’ it’s called…”

At this, Gou Gou Ye Ma quivered with laughter, her little paws covering her mouth as she giggled.

Morasha-bi was beside himself with rage. Who was this upstart? Had he swallowed a dragon’s heart, a roc’s gall? This was outrageous! Did he not know to offend Morasha-bi was to offend Lord Huluzhina himself?

Deliberately ignoring the two Lou Su princes, he sneered, “You’ve made a grave mistake, boy. Do you even know who I…who I am?”

He turned to an attendant. “Shaobing, fetch Master Miaojiang Tian at once—tell him someone is smashing up the Treasure Pavilion!”

Shaobing bowed and scurried away in search of reinforcements.

Morasha-bi’s eyes glinted with malice as he glared at Tu Zhe. “Whose brat are you? Raised by wolves, were you, to come here and run wild?”

Ah, now even the Lou Su princes were being insulted. Jin Si’s face turned icy. Jin Mu failed to restrain him, and Jin Si stepped forward. “The boy you speak of is the son of my elder brother, Prince Jin Mu. Have you any objections?”

Even as bold as he was, Morasha-bi could not feign ignorance before a prince. Still, having already cast aside decorum, he offered Jin Si scant respect, not even bowing. “So, you are the Lords of Lixian and Guyan—what brings you here?”

Arrogant indeed; it sounded as if the Lou Su princes were his subordinates, not the other way around.

Tu Zhe smirked. “This… lord, is it? I am here for you.”

Morasha-bi scoffed, “Oh? And what business could you possibly have with me? I don’t believe we’ve ever crossed paths.”

Tu Zhe smiled. “Lord Sha-bi, I have heard you are a man of great learning and prodigious memory. I have come to seek your guidance on a few matters—would you be so kind as to instruct me?”

Morasha-bi found this odd. Seek my guidance? In this fashion? He had half a mind to ignore him, but thought better of it—Master Miaojiang Tian would not arrive soon, for when he was absorbed in his craft, not even the Lord of Shakra could summon him. Best to play along until reinforcements arrived. Who was the master, after all? The famed King of Artifacts across the heavens—a man whose creations even the Lord of Shakra coveted.

Morasha-bi answered coldly, “I wouldn’t dare instruct you. Speak your questions, then…”