It has been raining for some time now. An unbroken drizzle, reminiscent of countless nights in Ba Sing Se when its citizens slumbered soundly in beds warmed by dreams and gentle memory. Even in this forsaken stretch of the Lower Ring, where decay has long replaced life, the rain does its part, cloaking the stench of rot and old blood beneath a veil of cold, cleansing water.
This ancient city, once the beating heart of a unified Earth Kingdom, still bears the fading dignity of its political legacy. Here, kings and Avatars once shared breath and burden, shaping the lives of millions with the stroke of a brush or the weight of a word. They ruled not merely with laws, but with philosophies. Some are noble, others laughably foolish. Yet countless voices, both wise and wicked, have whispered counsel into the ears of those near the throne, each attempting to shape the governing of that most unruly of beasts.
Humanity.
The Earth Sages preached benevolence as the cornerstone of enduring rule. A good ruler should win the hearts of the people, they said, and they shall build your legacy with willing hands. But even as they sang of virtue, another truth lingered beneath those words.
Fear, when wielded with precision, will always have a rightful place. For the human heart is ever wayward, easily tempted and corrupted. In the end, all thrones are bolstered not just by love, but by the memory of consequence. In is indeed why a certain school of scholars would frown upon the mainstream governing philosophy, mocking the Earth Sages who revel in preaching their so-called timeless doctrines of benevolent rule yet conceals the grim ledger of failed monarchs who heeded such wizened counsel. Across history, there are no shortage of incompetent rulers that allowed marauders to pillage the common people, and left their starving subjects to wither beneath the weight of famine and neglect.
Such nonsense, unfortunately still persists. Even within this rare bastion of sanctuary on a continent soaked in blood, there are still those who scheme. Parasites cloaked in faith and ambition, their desires as boundless as their sense of entitlement. Yet the shadows of Ba Sing Se are ever watchful, and sometimes, when the line between justice and survival grows thin, they rise to remind the ungrateful why the world beyond these walls is less forgiving.
Now, like a scythe sweeping through fields of wild overgrowth, the ungrateful here have been culled, left strewn across the silent cobblestones before the old Yang Chen temple, their little gathering reduced to carrion. An aging night watchman trudges through this aftermath, his duties unchanged by the carnage. With a wearied hand, he strikes a metal gong, a standard practice for all those who performs this mundane role.
Even amid the corpses, whose presence screams louder than any analogy, the old watchman intones the traditional phrases of the profession that involves timekeeping, as is done by his colleagues in the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation.
"First watch of the night, time to rest!"
The gong tolled once more, echoing through empty alleys. But no sleepers stir to hear it. No one dreams here anymore.
Before the watchmen descended, the assembled faithful stood firm, a bastion of defiance against the dark. With trembling hearts and unwavering conviction, they summoned every fragment of belief to confront the impossible. At their head, two steadfast Earthbenders raised their arms and voices, igniting the crowd with visions of glory. To any soul bold enough to drag the shadow into the Master's light, they promised reward beyond imagining.
But beneath the bravado, silence clung to the shadow's name like rot to bone. Not one dared speak it aloud. Among the swelling ranks, a few still writhed in agony, their bodies convulsing in the final, fevered spasms of some unseen torment. While all these thralls consider faith to be their greatest armor and shield, apparently malnourished bodies and ragged garbs are not enough to hinder the flight of earthen shrapnel.
And yet, their suffering was not without purpose. From the smoke and silence emerged the messenger, shrouded in a humble brown hood that devoured all but the faintest outline of a face. They slipped back to Hong Xiuquan's teahouse, the air behind them laced with the scent of damp stone.
The doors creaked open once more, spilling dim light across the dusty floor as the messenger stepped in. Each footfall stirred old carpets, the long brown hood brushing the ground like a shadow reborn. Without a word, the figure strode toward the counter.
Behind it, the shopkeeper's head snapped up, anxiety flitting across his face like a shadow before sunlight. But when he recognized the figure, his expression bloomed into one of relief, almost worshipful. With the grace of a man both overjoyed and terrified, he scrambled out from behind the counter, hurrying to greet the messenger.
"Thank the Master," he breathed, voice bordering on supplication. "You made it back safely!"
Like an offering to an altar, he carried out a tray, laden with the finest tea this humble establishment could muster. Each movement was frantic yet reverent, hands trembling as he set the tray on a low table, hoping it might please the figure cloaked in silence. When a nearby patron, an ignored non-bender in threadbare robes meekly asked for a refill, the shopkeeper waved him off with a sneer. Such servility is directed solely at the messenger. Those who chosen by the Master, after all, were owed more than just tea.
"The journey from Republic City must have been grueling," the shopkeeper said, lowering his voice to something between awe and gossip. "Here, these are prized Tieguanyin leaves, the finest in my entire collection." He poured with theatrical care, though his technique betrayed rural roots, a shaking hand and a clumsy spout.
Yet the ritual was not without weight. The tea was poured, but messenger remained still, making no moves to savor this treasured brew.
Then the questions came.
"Oh, esteemed messenger," the shopkeeper said with a dramatic bow. "Your presence is a blessing from the Master himself. It was an honor for my two sons to assist in your escape from the assassin. Such a noble mission, their first step toward cultivation! They were so eager, so proud. You must have seen it!" His eyes flicked toward the door, hopeful to see his sons march in, triumphant and whole.
Only silence greeted him.
"They fulfilled their purpose," the messenger replied calmly, unmistakably feminine, and wholly different from the rumored assassin she had evaded. "As patriarch of your family unit, you should be proud. They served their purpose… to me."
The words landed softly, yet carried a cruel weight. And though spoken with serenity, they pierced like needles under the skin.
The shopkeeper blinked. For a long moment, he seemed not to register the meaning. Then, in hesitant denial, he shuffled toward the entrance, peering out through the rain-soaked streets.
"They should be here," he muttered. "Those two rascals... they should've arrived by now."
The messenger joined him, presence quiet. The rain intensified, as if in response.
"Curious," the messenger mused, eyes never leaving the curtain of water outside. "You haven't asked about the others. The followers who stood beside your sons. They surprisingly offered quite the stubborn resistance."
A flicker of confusion crossed the shopkeeper's face, but quickly it vanished beneath practiced obedience. After all, every acolyte knew the truth. Though the Master loves all who serve him, his blessings are reserved for the most faithful and the most useful disciples. The power of bending was never given lightly.
And to these... acolytes, what greater devotion is there than sacrifice?
"Why do you care so much about your sons?" the messenger asked quietly. "Wouldn't such attachment hinder your devotion?"
The shopkeeper's breath caught. His lips parted, then faltered.
"B-but..." he began, voice trembling with grief he hadn't yet named. Then, with visible effort, he bowed his head. "You are right. The Master's will must come first. If their deaths serve the Eternal Balance, then… may they be remembered by all those who seeks to inherit his Heavenly Kingdom as how all acolytes shall do to serve him."
Even beneath the heavy folds of the brown cloak, the messenger's approval was unmistakable. Her posture shifted and relaxed, almost pleased. She had watched him cross that final threshold, where grief became loyalty. It felt like a childish anticipation that foresaw the weakness of familial bond.
With the matter settled, she made her request. Now, they must meet with the receiving party. Though secret congregations of the faithful dotted every corner of Ba Sing Se's Lower Ring, this one is special. Representatives from scattered sects had gathered, all eager to hear the Master's divine vision, a rare convergence not seen in years.
The shopkeeper hesitated only for a breath, then obeyed. Moving behind a shelf lined with jars of jasmine and oolong, he placed one hand to the stone wall. With a subtle shift of his foot, the ground rumbled faintly, revealing a secret passage. Only Earthbending could open it. He stepped aside with reverence, allowing the messenger to descend without another word.
Tonight, in the belly of Ba Sing Se, among zealots and whispering fanatics, something sacred shall occur for the gathered acolytes. There might never be another golden opportunity like this.
...
Despite the teahouse's dilapidated exterior and the underwhelming decor that seems to speak of neglect, beneath it lies a hidden sanctum, an enigmatic compound where the city's acolytes gather in reverent secrecy. Descending the creaking maze-like stairs, one passes a legion of vigilant guards, unwavering in their devotion to the Master's veneration and eventual arrival. At the end of the dimly lit corridor lies a grand hall, a sacred space where acolytes from all corners of the Lower Ring come to gather, their hearts heavy with anticipation and awe.
Here, no expense was spared. Opulent and sacred relics adorn the shelves of handcrafted cups and delicate pieces of parchment believed to have been touched by the Master's own hand. Three golden syllables, etched into the wall with an elegance befitting their meaning, proclaim the three noble virtues that the Master imparted onto his beloved children.
Truthfulness Compassion Forbearance
The followers, faithful in his teachings, having emptied their coffers. Jewels and possessions were sacrificed for the chance to immortalize these ideals, pledging their very existence to the Master's goal of manifesting the Eternal Balance.
The hall hums with a quiet energy as the acolytes, lost in trance-like reverence, participate in a ceremonial Earthbending stance of sorts. Some meditate, their arms sweeping through the air in rhythm with an unseen cadence, following the subtle guidance of a figure standing high upon a dais. Yet, to the discerning eye of any experienced Earthbender, their movements exhibit a certain dissonance, a mismatch to the regional bending styles they so desperately attempt to emulate.
"Behold!" the elder figure on stage proclaims with fiery charisma, voice booming with power, drawing every eye in the room. The crowd, a sea of faces from various Lower Ring chapters, hangs on his every word. All of them here to witness an earth-shaking message from the Master's mouthpiece. Each one here is ready to take the next step in ushering the Eternal Balance onto the global stage, their spirits alight with the promise of transcendence. "Feel the touch of the Master! Feel the weight of the Eternal Balance itself!" With a single flourish of a paper fan, the man conjures a gentle, almost imperceptible breeze that rustles the air, caressing the faces of those closest to him. Those acolytes, the most devoted and pure, are granted this first taste of divine sensation, considering the air itself as a conduit for the Master's unseen presence.
The reaction that follows this simple motion is nothing short of miraculous. Those closest to the stage, considered the purest in the eyes of the local sects, tremble as if touched by divinity. The current of air is but a whisper, yet its force is enough to send the most devoted crashing to the ground, bodies convulsing in ecstatic surrender. Adults fall, weeping in joyous reverence, and rising in chants of the Master's greatness. No amount of gratitude can outweigh the joy of basking in his essence. What did they do to deserve such reward? The Master is simply so great!
Amidst this fervor, the elder, an Apostle handpicked by the Master to carry forth the teachings of the Eternal Balance, watches with a serene smile. His heart swelling with pride, savoring the beauty in witnessing the transformation of these once lost souls. Their bodies prostrate, spirits soaring. It is a sublime sight, a testament to the purity of the Master's influence. These humble acolytes serve as examples of what all the people of Ba Sing Se should strive to be. They must be pure, devoted, and wholly aligned with the Master's three virtuous principles. The world is so far from enlightenment, and therefore must learn from them, and seek to cast aside the corrupt worship of spirits and false idols. Thus, turning their hearts toward the true power of the Master. In time, the walls of Ba Sing Se will echo with the reverence of the Master's followers, and the city itself will rise as a throne for him to rule, the seat of his Heavenly Kingdom.
"On, great one!" a voice cried out from the back of the hall, trembling with fervor. "Please! Bless us with the Master's essence as well!" The cry is taken up by many others, and soon the entire rear of the hall is a sea of desperate hands, each acolyte desperately trying to gain the Apostle's attention, like children yearning for the approval of a parent.
The crowd at the back is shrouded in shadow, making it impossible for the Apostle to pinpoint the voice's origin. But this is of no consequence. The Apostle raised his hand, signaling for silence, and the murmur of the crowd gradually died down, replaced by the heavy weight of expectation. "The Master cherishes loyalty," he said. "But only those most devoted, those whose spirits are pure, may be blessed in this way. Your time will come, and when it does, you will experience the same grace as those before you. Know that the Master is pleased by your patience and your faith."
"Long live the Master!" the crowd chanted, their voices rising in unison. "Glory to the Eternal Balance!" They kneel as one, bodies bent in reverence. Though they cannot bask in the direct presence of the Master's power, they believe that by remaining loyal and adhering to the sacred tenets of the Eternal Balance, they too will one day be deemed worthy of his blessings. Until that time, they can only watch with yearning as their more devoted brethren revel in the divine current that flows around them.
For many, the chance to handle the Master's sacred relics is reward enough. Yet, there is another honor reserved for only the most devout, the opportunity to meet an Apostle, a distinguished acolyte who was chosen directly by the Master himself.
Although their Master is afar, his presence is never fleeting. Only the most spiritually pure can be chosen to bear the weight of propagating the Eternal Balance far and wide to more untouched places and people. It is no small task to rally the unenlightened, which is why these true disciples are also entrusted with sacred artifacts imbued with the Master's might, tools to aid in their divine mission.
In contrast to the hollow, idol-worshiping practices of those who revere false spirits and Avatars, the Acolytes of San Bao understand that true devotion lies not in lifeless idols made of wood and stones. There is true power in the living, breathing power imbued into sacred objects by the Master himself. These artifacts are more than mere relics, they are vessels of his miracles and conduits for spreading the Eternal Balance.
Even the faintest touch of the Master's essence, manifested through the Apostle's fan, has the power to bring the faithful to their knees and weeping in reverence. The non-benders, still yearning for their moment of divine touch, must wait, their hearts burning with longing. But they know that only through faith and living in accordance with the Master's will, can they hope to reap the same exalted privilege.
Just as one of the acolytes at the rear of the hall dared to rush towards the dais, yearning to bask in the faintest hint of the Master's divine essence, a vigilant guard, loyal to the Apostle, swiftly intercepted him by bending a small disc of earth into the air.
"Get down, servant!" barked a warrior sworn to the Master's vision of the world, before delivering a brutal blow to the offending acolyte's face.
The Apostle, ordained and high in rank, regarded the spectacle with great disdain. His ire, however, was reserved mostly for the lowly acolyte who had dared to breach the sacred boundary.
"The Master abhors disobedience to the natural order," he thundered. "To achieve Eternal Balance, we must ensure that all things exist in harmony. How can we bring forth a calming effect upon this world if there is disobedience in our rank?"
The non-bending acolytes trembled, their voices quivering as they hastily distanced themselves from the instigator, vehemently proclaiming their innocence. The nameless fool who dared violate the sacred hierarchy committed a great transgression of invading the space of a pure bender.
Scorn and disgust filled the room as some of the gathered began to hurl curses, their voices venomous with disdain for the disgraced acolyte. The murmurs of disapproval rang out, adding to the tension in the air.
"Good, good," the Apostle purred, pleased that order has been restored. "Now, show us your loyalty to the righteous cause. Show us how to discipline those who dare defile the Master's teachings!"
Without hesitation, several acolytes sprang from their kneeling positions, their movements swift and violent, lunging at the man who had dared to approach the Master's sacred fan. The air was thick with the sound of fists colliding with flesh, punctuated by the sickening crack of bone. A few more, eager to prove their devotion, drew small, gleaming knives, carving into the traitor's flesh.
The cries of the fallen non-bender pierced the air, each wail drowned out by the shrieks of the purer acolytes in a frenzy of righteous fury. The Earthbenders, still lying prostrate near the stage, rolled in meditative reflection, bodies writhing in response to the Master's calming assurance and undisturbed by the violence erupting around them.
But it seems their sanctity is short-lived.
"Behold!" the sect leader cried again, his voice booming with unrestrained fervor as he pointed toward the entrance. "The Messenger of the Master himself has arrived!"
Despite the heavy guard that protected the entrance and the secret passageway, who are also the Apostle's most zealous followers and warriors with iron discipline, they bowed low in reverence as a figure chosen by the Master himself appeared in their midst, exuding an air of divine purpose.
The trance-like daze of the gathered cultists began to crack, their eyes darting towards the entrance, now alert, almost feverish with anticipation.
"Silence, for the Master's messenger have graced us!" The Apostle commanded, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "Let us lend our ears to the Master's representative! Now dear messenger, proceed, deliver the inspiring words from the Master himself! Enlighten us all with his inspiring words and reveal the glorious plans for Ba Sing Se! His followers, yearning to be freed from those who seeks nothing but to extinguish the Eternal Balance, would want nothing more than for him to establish the Heavenly Kingdom right here, right now!"
However, a lone acolyte near the Apostle hesitated, his voice trembling with uncertainty. Objecting lightly, a reminder was lodged about the Master's teachings inscribed within holy texts, a rule exercised across all secret congregations across the world. Women are not allowed to speak in ceremonies like this.
The cloaked messenger, silently reached into the folds of their hooded robe, produced a scroll of parchment. With a swift motion, it's tossed across the room, where it landed with a soft rustle into the hands of the Apostle. As the letter unfurled, the gathered cultists held their breath in anticipation.
"Oh, exalted Overseer!" cried one of the sect's representatives, bowing low with reverence. "Please, reveal to us the glorious vision of the Master! Indulge our insatiable longing to witness the Eternal Balance seize hold of Ba Sing Se!"
"Yes!" echoed another, his voice alight with fervor. "When shall the Master wage his righteous war upon this city of lies?"
All who stood before the Overseer are natives, zealous converts who had renounced the hollow veneration of Avatars and the capricious whims of spirits. They had embraced the Master's infallible truth, and now hungered for the day he would descend upon the city with his celestial host, casting down the tyrants who ruled it.
But as the moments passed and the sanctified Apostle read the content at last, something shifted. The eager smiles that had once lit the faces of benders and non-benders alike faltered, dimmed by the somber weight etched upon the holy messenger's brow. The parchment only has a few words.
There is no war in Ba Sing Se
A cold chill swept over the hall.
The Apostle's gaze flicked to the messenger, his eyes narrowing with suspicion which followed by a terrible realization. A transgression of the highest order had been committed against the Master's will.
The messenger slowly peeled away the hood and discarded the brown robe that had once cloaked them, allowing the fabric to gradually fall to the floor. In its place, they revealed an intricate ensemble of dark green brocade, spiked conical helmet gleaming under the flickering torchlight.
The gathered acolytes, once so hopeful for the future eternal, are now filled with dread.
"D-da—" one acolyte stammered, throat failing him as the name he had long feared was on the cusp of being uttered. For when the shadows of Ba Sing Se chose to reveal themselves, one could only pray that the reason for their appearance is not one of violence.
Sharp cries of pain and fear soon ranged out from the tunnel's mouth. Any warriors appointed to guard the passage to this clandestine gathering had no doubt met swift and merciless ends. Unlike most Earthbenders in the city's million strong army, the finest of what Ba Sing Se can offer prefer serenity in their work.
From the shadowed entrance emerged a procession of figures clad in sumptuous brocade. Conical helms adorned with cascading green tassels crowned their heads, swaying with grace. Each footfall rang out with a jagged, earthen cadence, a chilling signature of the infamous technique that made their order so feared.
These are no mere lawmen on the streets of Ba Sing Se. They are an enduring legacy, or perhaps a blight to one of the greatest Avatars to ever grace the Earth Kingdom.
Dai Li agents, or Embroidered Uniform Guards, are the city's unyielding enforcers, acting as judge, jury, and executioner. As custodians of Ba Sing Se's revered cultural heritage, their notoriety extends far beyond simple law keeping, bearing the mantle of traitors and kingmakers, with their very existence tarnishing the one who first created them. Yet, for all their infamy, a single truth remains. One can never afford to be too careless. For in Ba Sing Se, even the walls have eyes and ears.
Carrying within both hands an elegant cloak of exquisite embroidery and a peacock feather to accessorize a helmet, one of the Dai Li officers swiftly donned the one who disguised first himself as the messenger, as if to announce the latter's elevated rank to the gathered host of dissidents. The particular Dai Li, ever the master of deception, had outwitted both the guards and the shopkeeper by blasphemously masquerading himself into a role considered sacred in the eyes of the faithful. Despite the apparent danger and distain casted at his direction, the bold transgressor settled comfortably in the silken cloak, even effortlessly used Earthbending to form a makeshift stool without moving his arms.
Seated with an almost regal air, displaying an indifference that bordered on arrogance, this Dai Li took no notice of the growing tension in the room. Such calm demeanor naturally further provokes those who stood in opposition. It was the Apostle who could not remain silent in the face of such insolence.
"How dare you intrude upon this sacred ground!" the Apostle roared, his voice dripping with righteous fury. "You have no place here!"
The Dai Li agents, numbered only seven, did not move. Those still standing kept their hands hidden within the deep folds of their voluminous sleeves. As for the exquisitely cloaked officer seated at the front, he remained unmoved, face obscured by the brim of the helmet, revealing little more than the faintest hint of youthful defiance.
"Our congregation is none of your concern!" the Apostle spat once more, harsh and accusatory. "Yet you have dared to enter and—"
"Greetings," the caped Dai Li officer interjected smoothly with a serene contrast to the Apostle's fury. "I see that even with but a single one of my colleagues present, you and your congregation cowers. A reaction that is only to be expected, given the storied legacy of my forebears. But in truth, it is much like the way tortoises retreat into their shells, isn't it? You too prefer to hide, unwilling to confront us directly." With a flourish, the Dai Li spread his cape wide, a taunting display of confidence against these dregs who wanted nothing more than to see the city's walls crumble into dust. He waited for a response, ever so patiently.
Fear gripped the hundreds of acolytes who watched in silence, the Apostle himself chose to answer. Since he had once been the very architect of spreading the doctrine of the Eternal Balance into Ba Sing Se, such insolence cannot pass without a retort.
"I shall say it once more," he warned. "This gathering lies beyond your jurisdiction. You who grovel before earthly thrones are unfit to pass judgment upon those destined to inherit the Master's Heavenly Kingdom, a realm of everlasting grace where the faithful shall flourish in eternal splendor."
"Considering your illegal gathering takes place within the borders of Ba Sing Se, and as such, it is our concern," the Dai Li officer continued, soft but unwavering. "To settle within these walls and dare to dictate the terms of our city's rule over its custodians, well, even the lowliest of renegades would not be so bold as to embarrass themselves with such illogical notions. Your behavior, retreating like rats into the shadows, speaks volumes about your faith, or rather, your lack thereof. At least the ones who dared to face us directly provided a certain... convenience."
The Acolytes of San Bao, who venerates their Master and taken refuge in the shadows of Ba Sing Se, might have thought themselves hidden from the eyes of the city's custodians. But among their countless secret gatherings scattered across this vast city, some are naturally more willing to confront the Dai Li openly, convinced that their faith in the Eternal Balance alone would grant them the strength to overcome even the mightiest armies. Of course, the Dai Li's more prosaic responsibilities also include ensuring Ba Sing Se's temples and shrines remain untouched by the quiet fury of religious zealots. In the wake of that ill-fated assault just a few short years ago, an incident still shrouded from the public eye, it seems that nearly half of the concealed sanctuaries harboring the Master's devotees vanished without a whisper.
"How dare you honor those faithless renegades!" the Apostle suddenly shouted, thick with contempt towards the specific leaders who led that disastrous revolt right at the Dai Li's doorsteps. "Those who have fallen are heretics, weak-minded souls without an ounce of true faith in the Master's light. Such people would doom their brethren with their rash thinking, unworthy of inheriting his Heavenly Kingdom! I will personally see those who sow chaos in our ranks punished and denied from the Master's salvation!"
His words were directed at two audiences. One is his own followers, representatives of underground sects that hung on to his every command. Next is the Dai Li, whose very existence is a blight upon the spiritual movement he had once helped to birth. Though the Apostle is the one responsible for spreading the teachings of the Eternal Balance far and wide, he found himself struggling to control the very force he had set in motion. Although the countless secret gatherings conducted by the faithful is decentralized enough to inconvenient the powers of Ba Sing Se that aims to persecute them, the movement had grown beyond his reach, and with it, the challenges casted at cohesive authority had only multiplied.
At this point, the struggle for control seemed utterly irrelevant. The Dai Li agents, who had always danced in the shadows, would gladly see the head of this serpent roll across the earth's cold pavement. Even for the world's greatest secret police, successfully locating one man in Ba Sing Se's Lower Ring alone is a near impossible feat
A miniscule smile escaped the lips of the leading Dai Li, his amusement betraying the satisfaction of a memory he was all too eager to revisit. "The ones who dared challenge us did not come unprepared. I commend their fervor, their devotion to your so-called Master. But let me be clear. Faith alone, no matter how unshakable, is never enough. They met their end at the hands of our most inexperienced aspirants, juveniles. And as for the survivors, I assure you that the less said about the details of my colleagues' actions, the better."
Faith, after all, is the lifeblood of the acolytes who serve the Master's will. Born of hardship and poverty, they are more than willing to place their trust in his miracles, seeing in their unwavering belief as a potent weapon against the mighty armies of the worldly powers. Any doubt the Dai Li sought to plant would need swift rebuttal from the Apostle, who would inevitably declare that the fallen acolytes had been victims of their own wavering faith in the coming Heavenly Kingdom, a kingdom that would soon manifest in this very city.
"Those who strayed from the Master's teachings and defeated in their mission brought shame upon us all! They are unworthy for be reborn into the eternal reward he has gifted us and is above all careless!" The Apostle thundered. "They underestimated the Master's enemies, dishonoring the three noble virtues by which we live!"
"Underestimated?"
The Dai Li's voice dripped with incredulity, tinged with slight offense. Even a single word was measured, precise, and elegantly delivered, like a sharpened blade.
And now, a lecture begins.
"The ones who confronted us in broad daylight were simply weak," the Dai Li stated, words poisoned with belittlement. "As servants who helps to maintain the city's harmony and cultural heritage, my colleagues and I would naturally disfavor anyone who even thinks about disturbing this serenity. That endeavor, as you might expect, extends to your disciples, preachers, and warriors. And soon, you are next."
"Insolence!"
The nearest acolytes, fiercely loyal to the Master's divine mission to bring Ba Sing Se into the Heavenly Kingdom, adopted Earthbending stances, ready to sacrifice their lives in defense of the very man that had liberated their souls with the ultimate truth. After all, a true acolyte who venerates the Master does not fear death, for not even it can separate them from their eventual ascension into the Heavenly Kingdom.
Spurred by the valor of their purer brethren and the Master's solemn promise of eternity, the gathered acolytes are stirred to fervor. In the vast hall, hundreds stand rapt, reminded that not even the Dai Li can forestall the inexorable advance of the Eternal Balance. And yet, these exquisitely dressed cultural guardians remain still, not even attempting to defend themselves.
"Who do you think you are?" the Apostle sneered, seeking to reassert his moral high ground over these pawns of the state, especially the lapdog draped in an elaborate cape and sitting comfortably. "The Dai Li were founded by an Avatar who wielded only violence and bloodshed. You have no loyalty. You are beloved by none. You betrayed those you swore to protect, and worse yet, you have allowed Ba Sing Se to fall not once, but twice. And now, you stand before me, threatening the Master's faithful with such dishonor. So, I ask you once again. Who do you think you are, to confront us in such a manner so devoid of dignity?"
To the astonishment of every acolyte present, the Apostle himself launched a sudden assault. With a swift, imperious gesture, he flicked his hand toward a nearby teacup. The vessel, forged from impure ceramic laced with earthy sediments, proved vulnerable to manipulation by Earthbending. It soared toward the Dai Li officer like a jagged arrow.
Still seated and swathed in the folds of a silken cape, the head officer appeared utterly disinclined to move. He merely slid one of his leather boots, dark and polished, quietly across the stone floor in a gesture so subtle it bordered on disdain.
That lone motion sufficed.
The airborne cup fractured mid-flight, exploding into a spray of porcelain shrapnel. Razor-like fragments ricocheted across the chamber, drawing startled cries from many acolytes. Those nearest the blast recoiled in agony, scalded by the steaming tea that splashed like liquid fire upon their skin.
One poor soul collapsed to the floor, shrieking in anguish as one eye was pierced by a jagged shard of clay that buried itself deep into the socket. Blood streamed down the cheek as he writhed.
Such is the sad cost of defying the Dai Li.
For a fleeting moment, the Apostle and his inner circle faltered, bravado doused by the officer's effortless parry. A silent truth hung in the air, sometimes, only a demonstration is required to remind the world that the Dai Li remain the Earth Kingdom's deadliest Earthbenders.
Completely unmoved, the head agent returned his attention to the Apostle's earlier provocation.
"You ask who we believe we are?" the officer echoed with a tone of idle amusement, though a faint glimmer of interest suggesting his intent to address certain insinuations, particularly those that dared to paint the Dai Li in an unthreatening light. Raising his left foot once more, it revealed the cracked stone beneath the boot, evidence of heavily suppressed force. Then, with a barely perceptible kick to the ground, he dislodged a minuscule shard of rock, which zipped unseen through the air towards the dais.
None of the Apostle's devotees perceived the projectile until it struck its mark. It pierced the center of the ceremonial paper fan beside their beloved Apostle with surgical precision. Though the desecration of such a sacred relic elicited gasps from the crowd, it was in its own way, merely a simple warning. The Apostle and every attendee here still retained some fleeting value, and it would be irresponsible to discard them immediately.
"Allow me to explain this precisely," the leading Dai Li said, his tone edged with authority. "As humble servants, the Dai Li exist to ensure that the Earth Kingdom's cultural heritage go unmolested. While our forebears grew complacent and feeble, my colleagues and I labor to remedy and purge such disgrace." He rose with measured grace and began to make his way toward the exit. The six remaining Dai Li agents swiftly unveiled their ensnaring chains, cold, unyielding instruments of ensnarement. Accompanied by a chilling ultimatum, any failure to seize the hundreds sheltered within this sanctuary would be met with consequences most severe. "Also, listen well, for I shall not repeat myself a second time. I will kill those even the Dai Li dares not to kill. I will interfere in matters too treacherous for council or crown. Where the Dai Li withhold action, I will act without benediction from spirits or sanction from man. Where even Avatars have gravely erred, I will personally see it amended by my own hand."
The Dai Li officer cast a final look at the old Apostle, who is his eyes is nothing but a mere rabble-rouser cloaked in a borrowed sanctity.
"Is that clear enough for you?"
With that, he departed the teahouse, leaving the remnants of the skirmish behind knowing that these dregs of the city shall be herded elsewhere. Outside, rain continued to fall in quiet sheets. Though inconvenient, the officer found solace in its chill, and the woven silk of his cloak kept him comfortably insulated. Just as the four Dai Li agents stationed at the entrance questioned whether a mere six of their brethren could truly subdue the hundreds of dissidents hidden within the underground compound, another disturbance demanded their attention.
"Inquisitor."
He turned as two of his colleagues descended from the roof with the noiseless precision. They landed at the teahouse entrance, their brocade-lined uniforms catching droplets of rain that traced down their helmets like rivulets of mercury. Though indistinguishable at first glance, clad in the same muted palette of all Dai Li, it is soon apparent that the duo is part of the Western Depot. Unlike their far more ruthless counterpart, these agents in the past were not deployed for political surveillance or conventional sedition. Their mandate was far stranger, involving the investigation of supernatural disturbances. Or, in less ceremonious terms, they assume the unglamorous task of sniffing out whispers of witchcraft, such as the infamous case involving one of the Earth King's consorts rumored to have prayed her rival into suffering a miscarriage.
"Nearly all surviving fugitives from your earlier engagement have been secured," one of the duo reported.
"Good," the Inquisitor replied, trying to endure the coldness that the rain can provide.
Yet the moment of mere acceptable satisfaction dissolved when they informed him that one individual had somehow managed to elude capture, a feat beyond the reach of mere rebels. Despite the facade of calm, the frigid air failed to conceal the simmering fury beneath the surface.
The two agents braced for harsh reprisal, for under the new regime, failure within the Dai Li is not a trifling matter. Even towards their own, rigorous standards grants no mercy.
But to their surprise, the Inquisitor did not lash out. Instead, he gifted them a rare show of leniency.
"Like all deposed traitors, those who betrayed my expectations shall find no sanctuary," he said coldly, each word laced with steel. "But I am not unreasonable. This particular incident also bears the stain of my own misjudgment."
Much to the silent astonishment of the nearby Dai Li agents, though none dared show it outwardly, their commander made the decision to pursue the matter personally. Across the world, the very name of the Dai Li evokes dread, feared for their clandestine Earthbending techniques and their peerless art of stealth, a legacy passed down from their illustrious founder.
Yet even that latter mastery is not completely unmatched.
End of Chapter Notes:
-The leather boots are based are footwear worn by Ming Dynasty officials.