Reconnaissance is Part of War - 4
Back when I was the Left Vice Inspector General, I roamed every corner of the Central Plains, encountering all sorts of chaos. I saw things no one else would, heard what they never should have, and handled jobs that weren't mine to touch. And let's not forget—I'm a guy with future knowledge, wide open to the world. I treat 14th-century impossibilities like everyday facts and know cosmic truths the era hasn't uncovered yet. I just keep my mouth shut to avoid backlash. So I figured nothing in this world—no event, no spectacle—could rattle me. The only shocks were Grandfather's peak eccentricities, and even then, the sheer hopelessness of cleaning up bizarre messes left me sighing through life.
'What the hell is that.'
Wrong. Even this 14th century had stuff to stun a modern man. Insane shit unimaginable in the 21st.
- Grok, grrraaarrr!
- Kiririririk!
- Pss... hsssseu...
Eerie roars booming loud enough for every soldier in Guyongguan to hear. Multiple types, yet from one entity. Or is "one" even accurate? Single body, but faces not in a set?
'500 into one.'
Cold sweat trickled down my spine. Over 500 beasts crammed into a single being. Different species fused into a hybrid. Hundreds of eyes swiveling, glaring at Guyongguan. The nightmare hybrid flaunted grotesqueness beyond description. Dream-level horror—I'd wake sobbing.
"Not as big as the upper ones, so that's a silver lining, I guess."
In the silence pierced only by its howls, the Guyong Garrison Commandant spoke first.
Not as big as the upper ones. Blinked at first, but sizing it up, it clicked.
'Nearly a walking siege engine.'
The 500+ beast mash-up was massively bulky. But as he said, squat and wide—not towering. Bulked or not, still shorter than the walls. Dodged eye-level monster madness.
'Calling this fortunate.'
Relief hugging the walls? Hardly normal. What Central Plains army fretted over wall-sized foes?
"Unbelievable."
Commandant broke silence; the escort captain followed.
"Beasts or not, heaven-bestowed lives. Heaven's building blocks for the world—even killing serves mankind. No call for such hideous, grotesque deaths."
Captain's tone brimmed more with Mongol rage and revulsion than shock at the unknown. Got it. Ferocity, suicide bombs—grudgingly acceptable. Mongols pull any win-at-war stunt. But this? Miles past human tolerance. Beyond cornering beasts, it crushed their very dignity as creatures. World where human rights barely exist, beast rights laughable—but lines exist.
'Even ruthless unorthodox sects shy from toying with life like this.'
Boosting arts with beast blood or vitality? Evil sorcery cries. Fusing live different beings? Hideous form? Public enemy even among them. Blood Cult would bail.
- Kiriring...!
"Don't look."
The qilin in my arms whimpered pitifully, so I cupped its eyes. Pointless post-sight, but subjecting the furred beast king to this cruelty? No. Poor thing couldn't act against the hybrid anyway. Avert for now. Till southerners mopped northern atrocities.
- Graaaaaak!
- Kkieeeek!
- Kaak, krak!
'Insanity.'
Frowned at the uglifying cries. Damn. Unify the roars at least? What beast screeches like that? Human screams.
"Hm?"
Vexed gaze caught oddity late.
"Commandant, sir."
"What?"
"No feet visible."
His eyes snapped low. Legs obscured by bulk. Slender hundreds touching ground, but "...No feet."
Legs aplenty, feet nil. Propping the bulk, no walking pads. Could drag with legs forced. But animals have feet for balance, gravity dispersal. Essential. Absent.
500+ fused, zero feet—
'Whoa.'
Mass writhed; huge arm erupted.
- Kreaaaaak!
Crawled, arm-propped. Mad Mongol pups. Chimera contest during expedition prep? How strip feet for that?
'And so slow.'
Glacially. Hundreds fused arm-crawling? Faster'd be weirder. Rage, vexation morphed to questions. Better mass-suicide the herd. Why single abomination?
'Ah.'
Didn't linger. Jerked alert by soldier's dropped arrow.
Martial artists steel minds beyond civilians. Ugly beasts? Still beasts. No terror. Regular troops? Trained sans arts, barely civilians-plus. Unscathed by that? Robotic.
'War's hell.'
Hybrid? Not conqueror. Morale-breaker for defenders. Steppe Cthulhu. Loiters, howls kirik-kruk. Damn pest. Lurk in Karakorum—why Guyongguan?
'Not by choice.'
Victim of Mongol mods, dubious wits. Pointless blame. Curse Mongols routine. Beast-fanatics doing beast-insanity. Booze-addled violent phonies.
"Troops' morale tanks. Who'd stay peppy with that lurking?"
Inner Mongol roast paused; head-table commandant spoke.
"Best: exterminate. Grotesque, but beast-core—not tough."
Finger-tapped desk, soft sigh.
"Mid-extermination suicide? Catastrophe."
Officers nodded, groaned unison. Forehead-palmed seamlessly. Bulk-boom terror.
Legion-era? No sweat. Scattered blasts minimal; pre-kill, zero. Fused one-body? Power insane? Instant-kill viable? 500-HP fusion?
'Unknown scariest.'
Ancestors wise. No intel, no rash strike.
"Deputy Inspector."
"Yes, sir."
"Suicide scope/power unknown. Withdraw?"
"Daesong warrior retreat crisis? Beast riskier than wild fox packs?"
"Kuh!"
Laugh-burst.
"True. Beast's beast."
Chuckled long, thawed stiff room. Odd vibe. Dignity-torch clown?
"Monster not over-approaching. Demoralize-by-presence goal."
Mood thawed, resumed.
"Standoff; report Jung San Wang. Highness'd smite pre-react."
"Sage counsel."
"Monster withstand strike? Nay."
Kick upstairs. Commandant's founding-war vet magic.