Thirty Years Onward
The thick winter air flowed in through open hatches and ruffled our fur with biting chills. Half-blind from the blistering snow, I defiantly trudged my way over the frosty planks of the external observation decks. I passed several of my troops, taking their places on their new shift. The feel of our armour had plummeted in the freezing climate, but none of these inconveniences – none of them – held any sort of power over us. They will not sway us from our purpose. We wolves were born to fight and die for glory. Horrible winter is crushed underfoot like fragile, insignificant insects. This weather is no obstacle to a wolf of honour and valour.
Columns of smoke rise to greet us from the factory below. I inhale gratefully, and welcome the mixture of smog into my throat. It tastes good. It feels good. That is the appetizer of the fruit which we have toiled hard for 30 years to produce. I walk swiftly over the connecting rope bridges, letting honed canine instincts guide me to our home away from home.
I still remember the day after we begun the Giant Panda Purge. Instead of Gongmen hailing us as timeless heroes, we were cast out as eternal, despicable villains. How shameful. They would have been pillaged and decimated without our selfless intervention. And banishing their own prince to give us the message? Unspeakable.
Well, if Gongmen wishes to be conquered, then they'll receive their wish. Not from the Pandas, though. We spent a good deal of our unjust exile exterminating the disgusting fat vermin. Village after village. City after city. Town after town. Settlement after settlement. Our cleansing spree raged like unquenchable wildfire throughout China. Our battles, though costly at times, also yielded great reward. Our ranks regenerated. Wolves who had been estranged from the public life due to discriminatory suspicion, joined our family with wide acclaim and celebration. The women amongst our warrior tribe nestle in the deep caves of the Pamir Mountain Pass, homes which we have spent years cultivating and constructing. They will help us repopulate further our numbers. And when the time is right, we will join the rest of the people of China in unity, security, and celebration – brought about by the magnificent endeavours of our Lord Shen to unite the land in peace, harmony and justice through his inspirational conquests.
But it seems that will have to wait, however, as I enter our factory. It is the only one we have so far, and the conditions of our life in exile does not lend us any kind favours for it. We've had to postpone the building of our lord's plethora of cannons in favour of building up the standard arsenal to equip our troops. Swords, lances, spears, bows, arrows, armour, axes, maces and knives. All of us spend a great deal of our lives training ourselves in the art of our weapons, so as to prepare ourselves for the retaking of our lord's city, and from then on, the conquering of China.
But the prince insists on building his first prototype before we embark on our arduous quest. He advises us all that it will help us and guide us, symbolically and physically. And so for the past few weeks we have committed ourselves to creating our leader's preliminary vision of the ultimate weapon. But as I said, life in these barren and frozen wastelands does no favours for our drudgery. The numbing, icy air deadens our minds and suppresses our labouring paws. That forces us to double our efforts and stretch out our concentration to breaking point to execute the measurements of the machine to perfection. We would do so happily to ensure the coming glory of our lord.
But another, more imminent problem persists. We lack the resources in this environment to finish the final touches to our elaborate, metallic fabrication. I personally plan to lead a raid on nearby civilizations who have what we require in order to fulfill the final obligatory preparation as instructed by our prince. But first I need to report the current situation and seek the permission I need from our sovereign himself.
Ah, excellent. He comes this way.
My toned legs help me execute a fiery leap onto the platform on which our lord stands, observing all the important arrangements transpiring below him. He turns to me expectantly as I land beside him. We are both filled to the brim with burning, hungry anticipation.
"It's almost done Lord Shen, but we have run out of metal."
Our prince has already clairvoyantly collected the concerned thoughts of his faithful disciples. With sagacious poise, he shows no hesitation as he delivers his next command, pragmatically and prosaically.
"Search the farthest villages! Find more metal! China will be mine!"
I acknowledge the wisdom of his order with an enthusiastic salute, then I turn and walk away with briskness in my step to assemble my search battalion.
This mission will certainly be sublime.