Li Chen wandered listlessly across the wintry plains of Fengtian, his frayed raiment stained with the blood of his enemies. Head bowed, he gently rubbed Jee Hae’s worn jade comb for comfort. The taste of death was foul and bitter on his serpent tongue, the tang of iron making him want to retch. Pressing on toward Shenyang, he passed by detachments of soldiers who gathered the stiff bodies of the frost covered perished and stacked them in piles while others futilely hacked at the frozen earth with their shovels to carve out a burial trench, their spades dully clanging like muted church bells. Li Chen refused to linger over the lost, continuing on.

Over the course of his stressful campaign against the Japanese, the lines of Li Chen’s countenance had deepened into clefts transmogrifying his once youthful visage into a patchwork of scars, the formerly fair and supple flesh now rough and ochre-hued. Few could look at him without a twinge of terror. He could smell their fear. It was a noisome odor.

Li Chen stopped to kneel near the swollen corpse choked Shen River, dipping his great hands into the black waters to wash away the gore. The battle for Shenyang had been brutal. The Japanese had fought to hold every inch of land with any and every weapon at their disposal. The ferocity of that fight had stunned Li Chen. Frustrated at their initial lack of progress, what had begun as an organized assault had devolved into a mindless melee. Against his orders, the fervent Manchurians had broken ranks and recklessly dashed across the mined plains taking heavy casualties. Wave upon wave of soldiers leapt over their shrieking, maimed comrades only to be ripped apart by withering machine gun fire, yet his allies had pressed on hungry for vengeance and sure in the righteousness of their cause. They stood with the great Dragon King. Surely he would protect them. Li Chen could still hear the ringing echo of the guns, see the flares streaking through the night sky bathing the world in crimson as the earth convulsed with artillery fire. And just as it seemed the Japanese would fall they drew their swords and charged screaming. Many were strapped with explosives, detonating themselves after diving into the thick of the Manchurian ranks. If not for Li Chen’s presence Manchurian forces could not have hoped to prevail. But what had they won?

Li Chen looked to the east toward the craggy Changbai Mountains marked with the stubble of spruce and fir trees. The Japanese had retreated into the forest, likely evacuating toward Korea. Li Chen had been tempted to pursue the enemy when he noticed the plume of smoke streaming from Shenyang. It was then that he ordered the drive halted and shifted toward the city where he encountered horrors beyond his bleakest nightmares.

Outside the city, a great ditch nearly 300 meters long was discovered with the bullet riddled bodies of 20,000 victims shallowly covered over. It proved an ominous sign for what waited beyond. Entering the ruins, Li Chen had recoiled at the foul scent that permeated every stone. Within the ancient walls of Shenyang were the remains of a grievous atrocity. Thousands had been decapitated. Men. Women. Children. Their bodies were left to rot in the streets while their heads were piled up in macabre pyramids. Others had been mutilated, limbs strewn across the boulevards. Corpses stood impaled on bamboo bloated and decaying in the sun. Old men and boys were strapped to posts, victims of repeated bayonet stabbings; their entrails coiled around their legs. One grisly victim had been a pregnant woman, now disemboweled with her aborted fetus resting at her feet. The monuments, businesses, and homes of this once prestigious city had been gutted by fire, everything of value rendered ash and cinders. One charred building was found to be filled with several dozen scorched skeletons. It was not the only one. To Li Chen it was as if they had entered Diyu.

“Shadows and dust,” Li Chen had rasped at the sight of so much death. “I have fought for shadows and dust.”

The evil perpetrated in Shenyang overcame even Li Chen’s most hardened soldiers. Many wept while others numbly withdrew to privately mourn. The scale of the barbarity, the sheer inhumanity evident in the necropolis of Shenyang was enough to shatter Li Chen’s faith in the gods. They promised him glory. This was not glory.

Those few peasants who had survived the massacre recounted twisted stories of what had happened in the closing days of the Japanese occupation. The foreign devils had halted industrial production of all kinds while factories within the city were dismantled and shipped east using conscripted peasant labor. Others were sent out to tear up the railroad ties to the west. Rationing became the norm as all food and medicine was seized. Starvation and disease became rampant. When news of Li Chen’s approach reached Shenyang, the Japanese sped up their destruction of the city’s infrastructure detonating what they could not quickly disassemble including the railway stations. The madness of their actions only seemed to increase with each day. Imperial soldiers began to go door to door demanding valuables. When nothing was left to take, the Japanese came for Shenyang’s young men, marching them to the city’s gates where they were shot. Afterward, the corpses were doused with petrol to set afire. When petrol supplies became low, old men and boys were formed into burial teams to dispose of the remains until the number became too great and the Japanese allowed the corpses to rot where they fell or dragged them into the city to be desecrated and put on vile display. Finally, with grave trepidation, the peasants spoke of Imperial soldiers scouring Shenyang in search of young women, dragging girls out into the streets to rape and then murder. Tales of forced incest were not uncommon as Imperial troops compelled fathers to ravish daughters and sons to lay with mothers at gunpoint. Even Buddhist monks who had declared a life of celibacy were driven to rape. And the Japanese laughed maniacally at the evils they perpetrated, dancing as the city fell apart around them.

Li Chen found it difficult to look at the survivors. Their empty eyes and hollow faces haunted him. Worse, despite the horrors they had endured, the survivors praised his coming. The Dragon King had arrived to save them. But what could he do for them? He could not raise their sons and daughters from the grave. He could not rebuild the city. He didn’t even have the food to feed them. He had failed these people. If he’d only been faster. So many dead. It had been like this across Manchukuo. Villages wiped out, whispered tales of rape and genocide. A spreading desolation that left Manchukuo a kingdom of lost souls. Despite his best efforts, he could not stop it. Li Chen could not save these people, yet the peasants and soldiers of Manchukuo continued to have faith in him. Somehow, he would save them.

Dispirited, Li Chen retired to his headquarters on the plains outside the crumbling city walls after ordering soldiers to offer what aid they could. Puyi and Chu Kudo waited inside the command tent questioning the assembled generals on the course of the campaign. The Kwangde Emperor had been with the rear units far from the battle. Only when the city had been secured and the Japanese scattered had he ventured to the front. Even then, he rarely left the camp. When he had been told of the fate of many of his subjects, Puyi had refused to enter Shenyang or to meet with the survivors. He had other concerns.

“Leave us,” Puyi ordered the generals and their staff as Li Chen entered the tent. When the last had exited he turned to Li Chen, Chu Kudo loyally remaining at lord’s side. Removing his glasses, the Kangde Emperor insolently demanded, “What now?”

Li Chen glared at Puyi. “We will wait for Zhang’s forces and then push east in pursuit of the Japanese.”

Puyi snorted derisively. “You will be waiting a long time.”

“What do you mean? Shenyang is his ancestral home. He would not desert these people, especially now.”

Puyi cocked an eyebrow. “You are mistaken in your judgment of your allies. While you were in battle, an envoy arrived. It would seem that Zhang Xueliang has abandoned us.”

Shock stole the air from Li Chen’s lungs. He struggled to comprehend the news. “That is not possible. He swore his loyalty to the people of Manchuria-”

“Oh, I assure you it is the truth. He has turned south in pursuit of his own glory as I thought he would.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He seeks control of China. He used us as a diversion to tie down Japanese forces to strike at China proper. He started this war for his own gain, plotting with the warlords against his former master and using my war against the Japanese as a pretext for initiating war between China and Japan to destabilize Nationalist territory.

“Chiang Kai-shek is dead, fallen at Shanghai. Some would say betrayed. Now the warlords ally themselves with Zhang and China is his. And Manchukuo…it has become a desert, sacrificed for his ambitions. Don’t you see? He created this alliance solely to remove me as a threat to him. While my forces faced the brunt of the Kwantung Army and my kingdom was ravaged he stood back and watched. Now that I am too weak to challenge him he will attempt to force me beneath his rule. To kowtow. Well I will have none of it.” Puyi threw his glasses on a map strewn table in disgust. “All this death and destruction has been wrought on China because it turned its back on its emperor. The Mandate of Heaven is mine. This punishment is well earned.”

“You hold your tongue,” Li Chen warned. “No one deserves what I have seen this day. And you, you call yourself a leader. Your people suffer and you do not see them nor attempt to soothe them. Do you not even care?”

“Do not chastise me, wēnshén,” Puyi venomously spat. “You may be the Dragon King, but the will of the gods supports me. I do not fear you.”

Chu Kudo stepped forward. “Your Majesty-”

“I do not fear him. It is his fault that this destruction has befallen my kingdom. If we had turned north and assaulted Harbin rather than listened to that traitor, then all this death could have been avoided.” Puyi turned once more to imperiously challenge Li Chen. “You ask me if I care. How can I? I am surrounded by so much death that I am numb to it. Everything between Hsinking and the Yellow Sea is gone, consumed by the Japanese. You think Shenyang is the worst? You have not heard of the horrors of Shanghai or Nanjing. These deaths are on your head,” he cursed with the jab of an accusatory finger. “You guided us towards this path and China is in ruins for it.”

“No,” Li Chen croaked, shuddering beneath the brunt of the allegation.

“Yes. It is time that you realize you are my servant and not the other way around. If you refuse to bow, then the hell with you. My forces will no longer follow this foolish endeavor. Chamberlain.”

“Yes?” Chu Kudo asked.

“Relay an order to my commanders. We are to depart from Shenyang on the morn to return to Hsinking.”

“What of the survivors?” Chu Kudo inquired. Li Chen waited anxiously for an answer.

Puyi spent little time rendering his decision. “They will stay behind.”

Li Chen was aghast. “But there is nothing left. They will starve.”

“That is not my concern. Supplies are limited. I have nothing to spare. If any of these stragglers attempt to follow us I will have them shot. I will also leave a detachment to prevent their migration north. Hsinking must not be burdened if it is to survive.” Li Chen snatched Puyi by the throat and lifted him into the air.

“Release the emperor!” Chu Kudo commanded only to be smacked aside with such force as to be dead before he hit the ground, his skull fractured. The sound of the commotion within the tent drew the attention of the generals who hurriedly returned to see their emperor in the hands of a monster.

“Who are you to condemn these people to death?” Li Chen demanded. Puyi’s face went scarlet and then purple as he gurgled, the capillaries in his eyes bursting. “Is this what it takes to be great, the willingness to sacrifice others for power? Why must so many die for your glory?” Unable to control his fury, Li Chen snapped Puyi’s neck. It was only after regaining his senses seconds later that Li Chen realized the evil that he had committed. He turned to the generals awaiting their harsh judgment for his mortal sin. Instead they bowed before their lord’s murderer.

“We swear allegiance to you, Lóng Wáng.”

Incredulous, Li Chen confessed, “I have killed your king. This is treason.”

“Your ways are not to be questioned. That is the Mandate of Heaven.”

With Puyi dead they had instinctively turned to him. Despite his revulsion, Li Chen was tempted by unquestioned power. The throne beckoned. But was he worthy? Should he assume the mantle of emperor? To wield such power, but the price...His subjects would demand vengeance for Shenyang. Many more would die, Manchurian and Japanese alike. For the throne, he would have to make a great sacrifice in blood. Li Chen abhorred what he must become, what he had already become, yet chaos would ensue if he did not claim the throne. Was it worth it, all this death? Finally, he dropped the emperor’s body in disdain.

“Damn you,” Li Chen whispered. “Damn you all!” He exited the tent pushing past the generals who barred his way. As soldiers and peasants ran up to him he brushed them aside. No more. No more would he deal with the world of men. He left them to their fate.

***

To the starless north Li Chen trod following the steel tracks of the South Manchurian Railway away from the decimated coast of Shenyang toward the rural, arboreal heart of Manchukuo soon reaching the lithic frontier of Liaoning. Over the Changbai Mountains he climbed eventually resting atop Baiyun Peak to gaze down into the wooded valley of Jilin. In time he descended into the shadowy vale, passing through the serene darkness while an emerald glow trailed behind him. The forest proved stark, desolate, and empty. Nothing stirred saved the arctic wind whose sharp touch made even Li Chen wince. The thin blanket of snow that covered the earth was smooth and unmarred by signs of life save in Li Chen’s wake, the brittle mosaic of ice crunching beneath his massive feet.

Many frigid days passed and the world of men gradually receded from Li Chen’s thoughts as he pressed on. Starving and exposed, he fell victim to dementia. In that haze Jee Hae appeared nightly, her ghostly form hovering at the periphery of his vision. He would chase her spirit into the night only to lose sight of her and be forced to sullenly find his way back to the railroad tracks.

In time the land became familiar again. These were the ancestral plains of his village sown with the blood and sweat of his forebears. Never had he been so happy to see his old home, wishing to run back to his father’s hut and the simplicity of the life he had left behind. Hunched over, tail dragging, Li Chen staggered toward his father’s village. As he approached, his mirth dissolved into creeping despair. The pulse of the place was gone. Little remained of the vibrant hamlet he had carelessly abandoned. The fields that surrounded the village were long empty of crops, now nothing more than frosted furrows like the wrinkled brow of some earthen titan lost in slumbering thought. Past the fields, the dirt road that led into the village was overgrown with grass and weed, the ruts cut over decades of use smoothed over beneath the treads of something larger and more modern than cart, horse, or donkey. Following that obscured path into the village, Li Chen discovered the marketplace was empty, several carts and splintered wooden cages littering the grounds. Gone were the crushing crowds of shoppers and long silent were the clucking chickens and vociferous merchants who loudly declared their wares. The emptiness of the square filled him with dread, yet he pressed on searching for survivors. Not a soul was to be found. Few huts remained, those still standing now blackened shells. A faint fetid stench filled the darkness.

“Father?” Li Chen weakly called as he wandered aimlessly through the empty ruins. “Hong Jin Bao?” No one answered. No one emerged. And then an icy gale blew from the west stirring an ashen mound near Li Chen to reveal a skeletal arm.

There was nothing left. Like everywhere else, death had come in the guise of the Japanese and Li Chen had brought them here. “I have killed them all.” With that admission, he remembered a promise he had made Jee Hae that night long ago on the tracks. “There is no future here, only an endless cycle that I intend to break.” Indeed, the cycle was ended. The cycle of life.

“It’s a dream, Li Chen, nothing more. Do not gamble your life away,” Jee Hae had pleaded.

“Why did I not listen to you?” Li Chen asked. “What I wanted, what I always wanted was for you. Instead I listened to the whims of the gods. My dreams did carry me away. For power I sacrificed everything and truly have nothing.”

Crestfallen, Li Chen dropped to his knees. In the palm of his hand was Jee Hae’s jade comb. He trembled, not from the cold winds but the bitter rage within. The Japanese had taken everything from him. There was nothing left. Shaking, he clenched his fist and crushed the fragile comb in his hand. An inhuman cry poured from his throat, bestial and thoughtless. He tore at his face with his talons, stripping away that last veneer of humanity he still possessed as he passed into a feral fugue. Li Chen cast his shredded raiment aside and howled savagely at the moon.

Overlooking the village, the laelap recorded the scene for later broadcast to the daimōn. The transformation was finally complete. At last Li Chen was one of the Cthon.

***

The Japanese sentries first caught sight of a strange figure approaching the west bank of the glittering Yalu River near Ji’an as dawn broke. Emerging from the forsaken lands of the ravaged empire of Manchukuo, Imperial troops fired warning shots to force the man to turn away from the fortified border of Chosen as they had the many refugees that had preceded him. Instead of turning back, the figure continued forward wading into the river and disappearing below the sparkling waters. Believing him to be a suicide, the attention of the soldiers turned elsewhere. Minutes later, one of the soldiers was surprised to see something rising from the rippling waters. Li Chen emerged on the east bank, his golden scales glistening in the early morning light making him shine like burnished brass. The sentries recoiled in horror at the sight of his maimed face, the scars and wounds rendering Li Chen’s oily eyed countenance bestial and demonic. His jaws hung open in a warped grin bearing sharp teeth that dripped with saliva, his tongue darting in and out like a viper’s. Tasting their terror, he reared back and roared, his ferocious bellow echoing for miles. The scourge of the Japanese had arrived.

In the days that followed, Li Chen cut a swath of destruction across the Korean peninsula and beset the peoples of that land with a genocidal tribulation. Those who thought him a liberator and savior from the iron fisted rule of the occupying Japanese soon discovered he was blind wrath incarnate. Despite their claims of innocence, the peoples of Chosen had given shelter to the foreign devils, feeding and housing the bane of all Asia. For that grave sin were they guilty in the eyes of Li Chen and for that crime they were to suffer the ultimate punishment of death. A great wail of thousands upon thousands went up across the land to the gods for salvation as the beast mindlessly murdered every man, woman, and child he discovered rendering Chosen desolate. Villages, towns, and cities were immolated in mock sacrifice to He who dwelt above, the sky soon going black with the ashes of an entire people blotting out the sun as if by sackcloth and concealing the stars of night. A storm of fire and cinders fell upon the plains and highlands begetting a conflagration that consumed the greater part of the grasslands and forests and polluting the waters killing all the animals of the peninsula. Though the innocent screamed for mercy he offered none instead bathing in their blood beneath a moon gone crimson. Li Chen’s rage fueled his hunger for flesh and his appetite proved insatiable as a third of the people of Chosen fell to him.

The Chosen Army shattered like pottery, the smoking hulks of tanks and the butchered bodies of soldiers littering the countryside as evidence of his passing. Li Chen would feast on the corpses of his sworn enemies, cracking open their bones to savor their sweet marrow. When their numbers began to thin, he stalked them individually like a predator did its prey relishing their squeals as he disemboweled them and fed on their still warm carcasses.

To escape his coming, the Koreans fled into the mountains while the Japanese retreated to the ports surrendering food, linen, and riches. All vestiges of civilization vanished from the face of the peninsula as the lights of the cities went out. Starving and afraid, gnawing their tongues in pain, a third died from disease and malnutrition while those who survived begged for death and blasphemed their ancestors and the gods for abandoning them, wishing the rocks would fall upon the entrances to the caves within which they huddled that they be entombed and lost in the darkness.

Soon the final Japanese outpost in Chosen fell in a great explosion that rocked the foundations of the earth and those few soldiers who remained escaped across the Korean Straight back to Honshu sure that the vast waters would protect them as they had for millennia from countless enemies. But the evils of the Japanese had alienated Amaterasu and she turned her favor away from them. The divine wind went still over the rippling waters leaving Nippon vulnerable.

With the smoking ruins of Busan at his rear, Li Chen gazed across the East Sea past Tsushima toward Kyushu. The slaughter had only just begun.

Next Chapter: Chapter 23