The Throne of the Devoured God

The Ghost Vanguard

Blood does not drip when a man hangs upside down for three days; it thickens in the skull until the eyes pop like ripe plums.

I stared up at the seventy two corpses dangling from the rafter beams of the southern garrison outpost. The silk banners of the imperial tax ministry were completely soaked through with black, coagulated fluid.

"Commander Jiang, we should leave this place," Lieutenant Vance whispered, his hand shaking violently against the hilt of his iron sword. "This is not a normal rebel raid. The bodies are entirely cold, but there are no blade marks."

"Look closer at their faces, Vance," I said, stepping over a broken storage crate. "What do you see?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just dead men."

"No," I replied, pointing my torch toward the nearest captain. "Look at the skin around his ears. It is completely white and shriveled. There are no puncture wounds, but the flesh is entirely hollowed out."

"The scouts mentioned the borderland rumors," Vance muttered, backing toward the wooden door. "They call them the Ghost Vanguard. They do not steal the grain, Commander. They just destroy the noble property."

"The throne does not care about local bedtime stories," I told him, kneeling down to touch the dry dirt floor. "The Emperor cares about the three thousand gold tokens that went missing from the southern supply line last week. Where is the treasury chest?"

"It is gone, sir," a voice called out from the back corner of the room.

Sergeant Cole stepped out from the shadows, holding a broken iron lock. "The vault was not pried open. The metal was literally melted from the inside out. The residue smells exactly like burnt spiritual marrow."

"Titan energy," I muttered, my heart dropping. "The high priests swore the underground veins were completely sealed after the capital arena collapsed three years ago."

"Apparently, the priests lied to the palace," Cole said, tossing the melted lock onto the dirt floor. "We found the registry log. The convoy was carrying more than just gold tokens. They had five crates of refined cultivation fuel."

"We need to return to the capital immediately," Vance insisted, his voice rising in panic. "If these rebels have access to raw Titan fuel, our heavy armor is completely useless against them."

"We are not retreating, Lieutenant," I said, turning my back on the hanging dead. "The throne gave us three hundred elite scouts to secure the borderlands. If we go back empty-handed, the executioner will be waiting for us instead."

"Commander, look at the captain's eyes," Cole interrupted, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

I walked back to the dangling corpse of the garrison leader. The eyes were wide open, but the pupils were completely milky white, devoid of any color.

"He is blind," Vance said.

"Worse," I whispered, reaching out to peel back the dead man's eyelid. "His spiritual consciousness was forcibly yanked out through his optic nerves. Someone literally drained his memories while he was still breathing."

"How is that even possible?" Vance asked, his face turning pale under his iron helmet. "Only the high elders of the floating palaces can perform a mind extraction, and it requires a full ritual altar."

"The Ghost Vanguard does not use altars," a cold voice echoed from the dark doorway behind us.

I spun around instantly, drawing my heavy imperial blade. "Who goes there? Identify yourself!"

A thin figure stepped into the flickering light of our torches. He wore no armor, only a tattered gray cloak that smelled faintly of underground ash. His hands were tucked deep into his wide sleeves.

"I am just a messenger," the stranger said, his voice entirely devoid of fear. "The leader of the Vanguard knew you would come, Commander Jiang. He remembers your name from the northern campaigns."

"Capture him!" Vance shouted, signaling the two scouts near the entrance.

The scouts lunged forward, their steel spears aimed directly at the stranger's chest. The man did not even flinch. He simply shifted his weight and blew a breath of gray vapor into the air.

The air in the room grew instantly freezing. The two scouts stopped dead in their tracks, their boots completely freezing to the dirt floor as thin layers of blue frost raced up their leather leggings.

"Stand down, Vance," I ordered, holding up my left hand while keeping my sword pointed at the messenger's throat. "He is utilizing a localized frost vein. You are one of the freed gladiators from the capital pit, aren't you?"

"We do not use that name anymore," the messenger replied, his pale lips twisting into a slight smile. "We are the Vanguard. We are the dirt that buries the sky."

"Where is your leader?" I demanded, stepping closer despite the biting cold radiating from his cloak. "Why did he slaughter my men?"

"Your men were defending a noble who liked to skin children for entertainment," the messenger said coldly. "The Vanguard did not slaughter them for fun. We needed their knowledge of the upper palace transport schedules. Their minds were very cooperative once the chains were broken."

"You drained their souls for a shipping itinerary?" Vance gasped.

"We took what belonged to us," the messenger stated. "The cultivation fuel you call imperial property was harvested from our bones three years ago. We are simply collecting the interest on the debt."

"I have three hundred soldiers surrounding this perimeter," I told him, tightening my grip on my hilt. "You are completely trapped here."

"Look out the window, Commander," the messenger said softly.

I glanced toward the narrow slit in the stone wall. The outer courtyard was completely silent. The campfires were still burning, but my elite scouts were no longer standing at their posts. Instead, three hundred men were kneeling in perfect, eerie silence in the mud, their heads bowed low toward a lone figure walking through the front gates.

"What did you do to them?" I shouted, rushing toward the doorway.

"They are not dead," the messenger called out behind me. "Our leader just asked them to listen to the ground. The earth has a very heavy voice when you know how to channel it."

I burst through the garrison doors into the cool night air. The atmosphere felt incredibly heavy, as if the gravity of the entire valley had suddenly doubled. My chest burned with every breath.

The figure approaching the courtyard wore a simple black robe, his bare feet stepping lightly over the frozen mud. His dark, vacant eyes looked completely dead, yet they held an immense, suffocating pressure that forced my knees to tremble.

"Commander Jiang," Lu Feng said, his voice quiet yet echoing perfectly off the surrounding hills. "You are a long way from the floating palaces."

"You are the defective twin," I said, recognizing the legendary facial features from the secret imperial warrants. "Wei Xuan's shadow."

"Wei Xuan is the shadow," Lu Feng corrected calmly, stopping ten paces away from me. "I am the reality he forgot to bury in the dirt."

"The Emperor will send ten legions if you continue this rebellion," I warned, struggling to keep my sword raised against the invisible weight pressing down on my shoulders. "You cannot fight the whole empire with a band of escaped slaves."

"I am not fighting the empire," Lu Feng said, his empty gaze shifting to the sky above us. "I am just dismantling the pillars that hold it up. The nobles think their palaces float because of magic. They float because they drain our marrow to stay in the clouds."

"I have a duty to the throne," I said, my voice cracking under the intense pressure.

"Your duty is to dead men," Lu Feng replied. He raised his right hand, and the black veins along his forearm began to pulse with a terrifying, absolute dark aura that completely extinguished the nearby campfires. "I will give you a single choice, Commander. You can leave your armor in the mud and walk back to the capital to tell my brother I am coming, or you can join the captain upstairs."

"I will never betray the Emperor," Vance yelled from the doorway, raising his crossbow with shaking hands.

Before Vance could pull the trigger, the shadow panther materialized from the darkness behind him, its massive white fangs clamping down on the wooden weapon, crushing it into splinters in an instant. Vance fell backward into the dirt, screaming in pure terror.

"The beast does not like loud noises," Lu Feng remarked, not even looking back at the howling officer. "Well, Commander? What is your answer?"

I looked at my three hundred scouts, all completely paralyzed by the sheer weight of his aura. I looked at the massive shadow beast looming over my lieutenant. There was no victory here. There was only survival.

"We will return to the capital," I said, slowly lowering my heavy blade.

"Wise choice," Lu Feng said, the dark aura around his arms fading back into his skin. "Tell the Crown Prince to keep his silver coin close. I want to see it around his neck when I tear his palace down."