Stories of Honor: The English Invade China

Happy Early America Day!

I’ve decided to make a story about 9th century England, as they were the closest to America in the 9th century.

Note: This is a joke story, nothing is canon in my world and whatever, relax. You have also been warned that this has the most shittiest of comedy. Read at your own risk.

August 13, 879, 12 p.m

   “My King! A letter hath arrived!

   “Speak casual English, serf!”

   The King laid royally on his throne, as the serf kneels, shaking. Battered, beaten, and dirty, he gives the letter to his un-communist-like King.

   “...”

   “It’s all in Chinese! What importance does this serve?!”

   “Do we not have a translator?”

   “dO WE NoT havE A TranSLaToR- It’s 879! No one have the ability to speak 2 languages, you fool! What does this even say... it’s just lines...”

   The letter reads simply:

   “我们中国人会吃你的屁股。 - 中国”

   “What do these lines mean? Are they mocking us? Why does that one look like buttocks?”

   “Sir, I belie-“

   “Silence! I did not permit you to speak! If we cannot read this, then we must presume that they’re launching an attack!”

   “... but how do we-“

   “Silence! Guards, get this serf out, and prepare to seal the gates! Protect the castle whilst we attack China! We must do it before they can!”

August 13, 879, 4 p.m

   “We’re within the territory of this Chinese castle!” A knight alerts to the rest of the soldiers.

   “Wait, it’s been 4 hours, how are we-“

   “Silence!” The King bellows. “How are you even here? I thought I kicked you out of my castle!”

   “Sir, I’m not a serf, I’m a pikemen”

   “Y-... Never mind. Everyone, follow my lead!”

   Everyone begins to run towards the castle. Some on horseback, some on foot. They all charge into the rim of the castle, until they see a line of soldiers ahead. The King and his men continue to charge, but are put to an immediate halt. Like a stand-off, each army looks at the other.

   “Sir, those are not normal sold-“

   “I swear to Jesus I will let you be thrown into the dungeon with those Japanese sword men who keep slapping people with their swords if you won’t shut up for 2 seconds!”

   “My King, he is not wrong, look!”

   The King looks over, and he begins to hear sounds from them.

   “FĒNG KUÁNG JÌU SHÌ LI LIÀNG!”

   “WÙ NÂI TIĀN DÌ!”

   “SHOÙ WÔ YI DĀO!”

   These voices strike fear into and man. The wretched Tiandi mains. No one can escape their light spamming extended dodges. Their yeet kicks have broken thousands of bones, shattering into their lungs. Not to mention their screeching voices, like scraping a chalkboard.  

    Before the English can even suggest retreating, the Tiandi charge at them. They have no choice but to fight back.

   “This will be the end of England.”

    “Wakanda, you cumberworld!”

   Not even a few seconds later, the Tiandi begin their attacks with their extended dodges, crossing the whole field to the horses, killing them all. Their retarded screams follow as they kick some of the Knights far away, making small piles.

   “Stand your ground, men! We fight till your last breath!” The King screams.

   “You know, you’re being a dew-beater, my Ki-“

   “Quiet, drate-poke!”

   Dozens of men are being killed, followed by sounds of “NÎ YÎ BÀI YΔ and “LUÀN CHÉN ZÉI ZΔ. Some men even begin to cower, and some accepting their death.

   The King, being the King, is able to kill few of the Tiandi men. Fortunately for the King, they aren’t skilled Light spammers. A simple mix up can kill them.

   As they continue fighting, there are more sounds of those Chinese. “NÎ ZHÒNG ZHĀO LA!” “JĪN GĀNG FÚ MÓ!” “BÙ XUÉ WÙ SHÙ!” It seems like more waves have arrives. All of them. The Nuxias, with their gay trap moves. The Shaolin, with their autistic screams, and the Jiang Juns, with their stupid lights.

   “We cannot take anymore, we must fall back!”

   “Did you not hear me, Knight? We must-“

Nî yî bài yî!

   The King gets kicks into the middle of the field. With his bones ruptured and internal bleeding, the King cannot stand up. His eyes begin to blur as he sees the blood of his men, and the foot of the Wu Lin. Exhausted, tired, dying, the King feints.

* * *

   “Ugh... where am I?”

   The King wakes up on the floor, but he doesn’t recognize it. It must mean that he’s within his enemy’s castle. However, it’s mildly dark, he can barely see.  

    “It must be 12 a.m.” He thought to himself.

   The injury to his chest makes him unable to stand.  

    “Why would they just leave me here in the middle of the castle?” Or so he thought was the middle of the castle.

   The King attempts to stand up, and sees the floor. It’s in the shape of a pentagram, dried blood surrounding it. The King flinches and falls back in the floor.

   5 Tiandi appear from the shadows and stand by each point of the star.

   “Kāishǐ yíshì!” A presumes 6th Tiandi shouts from the dahkness.

   Each Tiandi begins to raise their left hand, up and down. They begin saying “Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey...” over and over and over again. Something was wrong.  

    “Ó, wǒ qiángdà de shàngdì. Wǒmen bǎ zhège xīshēng dài gěi nǐ. Jiēshòu zhè yīdiǎn, bǎ wǒmen dài dào yīgè xīn de, qīngkuài de lèsè tiāntáng!”

   “They’re doing a ritual!” The King panicked.

   It looked like this was no ordinary ritual. In fact, those Tiandi are spamming something other than their lights, it’s their emotes! They’re pointing to one another for a reason.

   The King began to levitate off the floor. He began waving uselessly in the air, but he suddenly felt ill. Like something was sucking the blood out of him.

   The last things he could hear before ing out again was: “Názhe wǒmen de chǎnpǐn, qiángdà de Orochi!”

Wow, I put way too much work for something that was meant to be a shitty joke.