“Sisters of [Spring],” was one call.
“Our fellows-” cut another. “See there, the snow-touched scourge.”
A passing insult, soon silenced.
Fools, roaming far from the clash of serpents and Imperials.
“Bare traces of life cling to the pale-one. [Winter’s] filth. No technique of his could slay so many.”
The ziggurat’s passages welcomed more corpses.
A lope of paws came once, or perhaps more. Their rage as [Demonic], inspired by a ceaseless thrill of insects about their manes.
Not an exclamation of words, theirs. No, but a feast of differing sorts.
As maw wrapped about tender flesh and insects gushed into fresh viscera, the spectre swept beneath.
Once claimed by [Demonic] urges their [Spirit] lacked.
Thus he struck.
Then again to weaker voices. “What fresh tragedy has struck?” trembled another. “This beast nears late [Core Formation], it could not have…”
“Brother?”
“I sense more than… more than…”
[Dao Treasures] neither pounced nor prowled. This was not where their lethality lay. But the Imperials looked upon them, and could not deny their offer gifts.
More succumbed to [Epiphany].
More were reaped by this spectre.
Beasts.
Cultivators.
Beasts.
Gradual now, in these far-flung hours or days.
In sunless halls the bloodless work continued unseen. Buried to time as something built within a slow-pacing ghost.
Hours passed.
One body scraped aside the stony walls, his hand void of all but the next supportive brick. And yet the other- it lorded over a fresh domain. A hegemony to rival Yifei’s bestial Lords and what prestigious clans might name the [Mystic Realm] home.
Fu held no aspirations of this sort, waiting only for the moment that his mind might settle.
Still the [Meridians] within would accept no more Qi; another [Dao] would sunder his [Spirit]; and a fool’s choice would have him crippled.
No longer confined to percussive shudders, the true fight neared with each step. Dust cascaded in the dark, or bricks crumbled, [Profundity] and Martial [Prowess] undoing the frame of this colossal ziggurat as subsequent blows were traded.
Slivers of the [Spirit-Killing White Marsh Array] shone here, so vast was its spread.
With an eye against some mere slit of stone, Fu peered. He saw an [Array] as any might, without lines to guide and clear circuits to break. Vestiges of experience remained, one flash or two where cultivated talent could disrupt perhaps a fragment of something…
Brother. Sister.
His thoughts drew a resonance from above. Hushi’s fraught impression and Shuidi’s concern, far distant and as equally harried.
Reflections in muddied water.
A breath. That is all I need. One, and with fortune I will return.
Faintly, the impressions returned.
Faith.
He dragged left, trudging further into gloom.
The [Mockery]- he, flew right, eager to hone its edge.
In one hour Fu could run.
Two returned a solid grip about his chain.
Three brought nothing.
Lucidity allowed a torrent of curses to arrive upon his lips. Never voiced, but felt from [Core] to [Dao] to shred of skin upon his hampered body.
We did not overturn Heaven, nor cleanse these foes in a single turn of the hand. Yet I feel they were bled by these acts.
[Spectral Qi] and [Mist Qi] circulated within him, settling his thoughts and drawing both sides of his consciousness to pause. The [Mantra of False Reunions] grew vivid with this focus, presenting clearer in subsequent seconds.
No. Here all I give myself are empty platitudes. We are further compromised by my weakness, and now, old master, you suffer. It will be rectified swiftly, I promise.
WIth a steadier hand, Fu edged a knuckle to his navel. To a place where the [Dantian] once rested, now a glowing [Core] to house all of his drifting [Inner Qi]. Then he traced upwards, if so mortal a map might be trusted.
The [First Meridian] upon this Path of [Mind]. Cleansed an age prior. And…
Onward, to the [First Gate Meridian] of his [Conception Vessel], the [Second Gate] and all the intervening [Meridians] that lay between. By all accounts, four remained until he crossed into the realm of late [Core Formation].
Yet going forward this… pattern would need to be copied. The alien within his cultivation form, changed at the Old One’s hand.
For within him, through [Mind], his [Inner Qi] diverged.
Twinned rivers carried his power throughout, separated by a membrane of circulated Qi. Here his mental energy was split, as if diminutive vessels atop these waters. Though their passage was swifter than heartbeats, no, swifter that thought.
For this is what they were.
Thoughts from two sources. In feedback and [Senses].
Fu huffed in effort, breaking his inwards glance.
[Mantra of False Reunions]. Old master, you reside within it. A welcome crutch to transcribe all these twinned [Senses] might feel. To improve this technique is to lessen your burden. Yes. I see it now.
His spatial ring warmed, and he manifested a wealth upon the stone before him.
The time has come to rely on external means.
🀦
The first was trite, and of mending Qi. Gentle, and not of note.
A salve next. Three paws from a [Spirit Tiger], powdered into granules of solid [Life Qi].
Dewdrops from an azure flower, reaped one hundred realms prior.
In his palm Fu held a cut of lapis, polluted as he exchanged his energies with it. Some miasmic grey to pollute the purity of its hue.
Then on.
This breath he had impressed to Hushi and Shuidi was unlike any he had taken before. A taken moment where the fruits of a thousand thefts might blossom.
Fu applied treasure after treasure, beginning first at trophies from Marches of Orange and ascending from there. Where he had taken these from were inconsequential in memory: perhaps a hundred-moon old treasure guarded by some Imperial Repository or the secret [Heritage] taken from a clan scion’s possessions.
His only certainty was that they held benefit.
Slowly, the damage to his [Channels] and [Core] was mending. The drain upon his mental energies, receding, as if a thousand sleeps had restored him.
Seventy three minor treasures were consumed to restore his [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud], and here he gave pause.
The next item in his hand was of unmatched quality. A blazing feather from the [Divine Serenities Phoenix].
To consume it now would ascend my cultivation by leaps and bounds. What quantities of… it is not mere Qi alone. I sense its [Profundity] and energies beyond it.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Fu stowed it, favoring another. A marble of oceanic-blue, speckled with traces of darker plum.
The [Imperial Cold Sea Crystallization Pill].
A benefit from his juniors.
He rotated the [Pill], encapsulating his [Senses] about it. Imperial toxins were thick within it, though its [Impurities] were few. Whomsoever had refined this [Pill] was a true talent, and he silently gave his thanks before pushing his will upon it.
[Pull].
In simplicity, the toxins seeped free. A plum oil scented of greening-meat.
Crystal blossomed from his gullet the moment it was ingested. An expectation of cold was swiftly swallowed when Fu felt instead something akin to numbing pain, as if all within his body had suddenly passed into the background.
Save for one fragment, which he seized with his mind.
[Mantra of False Reunions].
The technique was etched into memory: the formations, patterns and cycles. Despite having never viewed it in hand, on tome or in practice. His old master was indeed diligent to inscribe such within the far reaches of his mind.
Here Fu delved further, entering the lotus so all his [Meridians] might fully align.
His [Inner Qi] moved on instinct, reinforcing the spit routes where his [Channels] through [Mind] diverged. Small rivers first, and with the inclusion of more Qi - brimming rapids.
What feedback the [Mockery] sent intensified and eased. A connection, stabilised. Memory bid Fu improve further, for the next stage was of a sculpting sort. To harness Qi within each [Meridian] and have the pathways nearly meld.
Cords to be bound, yet never to touch.
Little Qi circulated his [Core], for the previous damage warned him against vast amounts while his [Channels] were still raw. Thus came an exercise in finesse, in [Control] of the thin energy.
The first [Meridian] on his Path twisted with ease, with difficulty rising at the second. Likened to knots aboard a vessel, Fu strained to hold tension while adjusting the next.
It…
His [Mockery] beheld an incineration ahead.
Molten Qi rushed through the ziggurat’s ceiling, showering light and chaos into this darkened passage.
The Heavens do not favor us.
Fu rose, and his double chased, immediately beset by a drain on his mental energy. A force against his [Dao of Ever Present Whispers] that threatened to cede control of all he had begun to do. To unmake the efforts of the [Imperial Cold Sea Crystallization Pill].
His [Dao] was dismissed.
Stray Imperials drowned the passage with a sound of clashing blades. Of quenched flame and a sizzling cry.
One half of Yifei’s [Spirit Horse] Lords. The twin, commanding tides of [Water Qi] to rage against an onslaught of Blue Imperials. Her strikes were of external [Arts], of manifested waves and raging torrents, steaming as a concerted blaze of flame beat them back.
The pace of this- Old master, can you…
But the catfish could not seize the reins of this technique. Already was his part done, sealed in maintenance for Fu’s mistakes.
So he breathed, once, and demanded of himself more. For with two bodies, how could two things not be accomplished?
The [Wind Phantom Strides] lashed out with lethal speed. A return to simplicity and a thousand hours of practice. Stride, cut, lash, dance, spin, leap, pounce. Onwards around the fringe of flame-toting Imperials, sowing a malady of blood throughout their ranks.
Precious tendons were sliced, weakening the integrity of arrayed flames. An eye, blinded with cruel slashes. Three of ten were crippled in blurring strides, left to roil as Fu bled the necks of [Spirit Beasts] and Vajra alike.
In descent, as his air-formed shadow, the [Mockery] moved. No. He moved, If he was to align these two selves he could no longer perceive the [Constellation Seed] as other.
One self, extended. Perhaps as an arm.
Thus, his right cut and his left drained. Physical and Spiritual.
All the while the knots twisted within. [Channels], sculpted, mirroring the prime formations needed to advance this [Mantra of False Reunions].
It had him suffer.
Rogue geysers spawned from the [Spirit Horse], so swift he could not react. Thrusted jian pierced his [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud], vexing the limited Qi through which he attempted this technique. Myriad perils assailed him- threatened him and injured all he struggled to accomplish.
And yet this was his [Dao].
Crisis is but opportunity, riding a dangerous wind.
One could not reject their [Dao]. The [Boundless Dao] were no passing fancy. No fair-weather understanding to be followed when convenient.
At the cusp of three hundred strikes, he advanced. This haze between perceptions lightened.
Crisis is but opportunity, riding a dangerous wind.
Four [Meridians] knotted.
The Imperials thinned.
Crisis is but opportunity, riding a dangerous wind.
His Mantra repeated, for no words better accompanied these acts.
Six [Meridians].
Fu tore a horrid gash into the navel of two Imperials, crippling their [Dantians] before his left overwhelmed their flailing [Spirit].
Crisis is but opportunity, riding a dangerous wind.
Stillness.
“[Winter’s] shadow. Aid in this matter is welcomed,” spoke the [Spirit Horse], ejecting filth from her skin with the purest of waters.
When Fu’s words fell, they came staggered. A mind well taxed was poor for conversation. “Noble… Lord,” was all he managed.
Liquid fibers joined about her form, cladding her in a garb more of tribal appearance than those of scions and Imperials. A resemblance of fur, or hide, coarse in comparison. “The Qi about you quiets. Why do you suppress it?”
“My Path demands… demands it.”
The woman snorted in equine fashion. “It seems foolish, but the Heavens hold many rivers. Who am I to say one is greater than the other?”
Fu’s lips parted. “Noble Lord… a moment,” he began, fading for the burn of [Ink].
Ten [Meridians] had been reached, and a second triumph accompanied it.
[Mantra of False Reunions] [Initiate]
[Peak] attained.
Senses +45
Crisis is but opportunity, riding a dangerous wind.
[Twisted Heartplume’s Mockery]
[Core Formation Boon] attained.
[Thunder’s Second Call] Creates a twinned heart, able to be imbued into the manifested [Twisted Mockery] or held within.
Water surged as a barrier before the [Spirit Horse], warding an eruption of lightning centered on Fu’s chest.
Aptly, a fresh force thundered between his ribs. A second, beating heart, that Fu viewed inwardly and from a pace ahead.
Seen with near perfect clarity.
“A loud river, I should think,” the woman said. “Are you certain you know your Path, [Winter’s] shadow?”
Fu allowed a grin.
🀦
A maelstrom of energies lanced about Fu’s [Core]. Of [Inner QI], the [Twisted Heartplume’s Mockery], and chiefly, the [Imperial Cold Seas Crystallisation Pill].
The information had passed prodigious, becoming something more.
Fu’s selves moved in a trance. Deftly. Precisely. One turn of a foot; a hand; a rotation; these returned little but visions of the next internal pattern. With the [Twisted Heartplume’s Mockery] in greater alignment his mental energy could give chase.
Waging violence upon Imperials of Blue was a fool’s errand, yet these souls were both simulacrums of true cultivators and well hampered by the onslaught of [Spirit Beast] Lords.
So it was that he cut; harried; bled and vexed.
With minor attention.
He had ascended the ziggurat’s passages in company with the [Spirit Horse], supporting her advance further. So too did the next steps of the [Mantra of False Reunions] grow closer to improvement.
When her sister [Spirit Horse] met them, it grew again.
The maroon-plumed Lord. Aside the colossal weight of the rampaging [Spirit Ox] Lord. Met with the crackling glow of the immodest [Spirit Stag] Lord.
Improvements. Benefits. Opportunity.
And finally, an end to indulgence.
[Mantra of False Reunions] [False Imitation]
[Early] attained.
Senses +70
With a minor boon.
[Hollow Ivory Splinter]
Your [Dantian] is yet ravening.
[Pull] +32
My time of negligence is over. Hushi, Shuidi. I am ready to move as one.
[Dao of Four Horizons].
Wind stole his form through the passages, abandoning this fray of Lords. Myriad were the ruins of this once-grand structure, granting an unbroken breeze betwixt crumbled stone and cascading dust.
Fu’s selves unravelled, absorbing the scene. Indeed, he arched a brow to see all that had transpired in his absence.
[Spring’s] cool sun beat upon the [Spirit-Killing White Marsh Array], glaring first from a gaping expanse in the ziggurat’s frame, and filtered through the fraying energies of the [Array] itself. To see the external realm at such a depth… Fu first wondered which force had created such devastation, and secondly, which talent had shattered the Imperial defense so.
Impressions came.
Shuidi arrived first. Her [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud] was frail, despite the greater [Capacity] she held in comparison to her human partner.
“Sister,” he warmed.
The [Spirit Crab] allowed no pity and clacked with indignation. Her impression was prideful, speaking in few words a feeling akin to ‘I am not so frail, brother. See what this peerless talent has wrought.’
And so he saw, smiling at the much reduced [Array]. At the product of her troubles. Embers, eaten as if mere paper upon flame.
She returned to his breast, intent on deepening this impact.
Thus rose a choice, for across the mountain of blades there were edges to dull. Some prevalent, and others of a supporting nature. Puddles that would flood if no soul intervened.
Amidst thousands of corpses he spied the Lordly courts, beset by such numbers that the fallen seemed inconsequential.
Three Lords at-clash with Preeti, the Morning Dew.
None of these would sway the Fatherly [Asura], for already did his Wayward Winds wreak violence from the shadows. So told a resonance from his brooch, if lower in volume than any senior might wish.
His choices were two, and one, the more his twinned heartbeats passed.
The graveyard of embedded qiang, podao, jian, gun, axe, zhanmadao that ostracised mere Imperials of Blue rang loud to any [Sense]. For here Yifei and her partner presided over a realm of pristine metal, moving at speeds that neither Fu nor Shuidi could begin to comprehend.
Vague silhouettes, as if they peered into a depthless ocean and merely guessed what might lie below.
Orchid was clear, and of waning interest.
An inner disciple cannot be troubled by only this.
A personal disciple’s talent remained to be seen. So saying, the pair rid orchid from their view, placing colours of true importance there.
Hushi’s blur of faded teal.
The [Paifang’s] pale-white hue.
What traces of crimson hanfu passed through before a wall of Blue rebuffed their advance.