Mist coalesced about the Fatherly [Asura’s] palm weakly, for [Autumn’s] plight had come at last.
Joy had morphed the days since Yuling’s capture into weeks, passing three until the Heavens imposed their [Tyranny of Seasons] once more. His first as a being of late [Core Formation]; of a third Path and one distantly approaching immortality.
The douli’s brim rose as Fu roused himself from meditation.
His fist clenched, dispersing the meager mists.
“Few spoke of its depth,” he said. “How must the Jianghu’s immortals feel to experience their own [Tyranny of Seasons]? Profound. Disabled and reduced.”
Acclimatizing to the [Divine Serenities Phoenix’s] gift, his death, rebirth and dramatic bound into a higher realm of cultivation had proved arduous. The strength gained was not that of a mere, single [Meridian].
Again the gong struck, marshalling monks to begin their mantra.
Yellow light gently sparked from a thousand, thousand lanterns about the serpentine avenues sprawled below.
[Pale Mists Hegemony] showed the billions of this lesser canton as if moving ink, their mass so compressed it became a single streak. For all their numbers, he cared for a handful.
Shuidi impressed her impatience.
The morning’s schedule called.
No [Dao of Four Horizons] was called to deliver him forth, setting his foot down before a great auction house’s procession. Grandeur was expected in Divine Clouded Mountain, even outwith the peak factions and organizations that those of greater stock might frequent.
This Heavenly Rarities Auction House was no exception to opulence, and yet a mirror of myriad faceless haunts Fu had stalked through.
His [Senses] expanded.
Late. Seven peak [Core Formation]. Three immortals reside within, spectating. None are the target we seek. A wandering cultivator perhaps, for they walk alone among the crowd.
What he sought lay within.
Fu’s gait did not rise above a stroll. A phantom need not rush within their domain, thus he moved unhurried, melding with those that crossed the Heavenly Rarities’ grand approach. None noticed the specter amongst them, seeing only how the mists thickened to better mask his [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers].
A lacking boundary [Array] shone about the auction house, whirling golden eyes about the structure’s vast length to bar entry for those uninvited. He knew it as a [All-Seeking Dissuasion Array], and primitive in its construction.
Shuidi.
Seven points of mist solidified to disrupt the [Array], conjured from the [Spirit Crab’s] minor shaping of will.
The [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud] permitted Fu through the rest, unveiling the private viewing booths that ringed the auction’s central stage. His stroll continued, reaching [Senses] outward to find what he sought.
Three clerks rushed by, as oblivious as their ethereally silver [Spirit Crow] partners.
Ah.
A step stole him into the next private booth. An opulent box where about many might lounge on plush furnishings as the auction’s contents were broadcast. Some dozen minor [Arrays] conspired to have it so, projecting a clear view of stage, auctioneer and Heavenly Rarities heraldry across the booth’s far wall.
Yet only one cultivator sat there, fixated on the preliminary treasures within the catalogue she held. Monstrous, twin [Spirit Wolves] lay at her side. Metallic in fur and fang, as though each brindle were clad in molten bronze.
Her cultivation matched his own in realm alone.
Prudence held Fu in quiet observation.
The auction began.
“Honoured guests, the [Phantom General’s] Breastplate… [Blue Mercies Pill]... [Mantra of Ascendant Flame]...” came as recital, called by an immodest cultivator cast across the walls of each booth.
His quarry held only passing interest.
A member of the Thirty Fourth Vajra and Warriors Association both. Her appearance is youthful, and the toxicity of her Qi speaks much of her talent. Some wayward daughter of no retinue and lacking funds.
Shuidi’s mists spilled, inscribed with temporary [Profundity]. That of silence, stability, scent, heat, and suppression. Talent credited to the Old One’s mastery and tutelage, for now these effects flew simple as breath.
Before even these wolves’ nostrils twitched, Hushi had felled the pair.
Thus began the writhing of a crippled soul and a body’s collapse into Fu’s waiting arms. A final cradle before his hand fell upon her breast. “[Spectre Steals the Stars],” he whispered.
An ominous, bloody aura suffused his palm, wrenching this cultivator’s [Constellation Seed] free that he might inspect it closer.
“A suspended liquid of [Metal Qi] and [Soul Qi]. It holds the same sheen as her fallen [Spirit Wolves],” he mused, encapsulating a grand rivulet of bronze with [Air Qi]. “More is the pity that one of the Warriors Association chanced across such a treasure. If so lacking a group might take our Sect’s property it speaks of ill times.”
“Serendipitous fools.”
Fu brought his [Hundred Poisons Synthesis] to bear, sifting through the stable of maladies he now possessed. Divine Clouded Mountain held a prime stock indeed.
[Wind Phantom’s Breath: String Eating Soulfoam].
A puff from his pipe spilled this forth, claiming the fallen corpse. This latest poison was of unique property and use- a [Karmic] tincture, eroding all traces that a [Spirit] might leave, suppressed or not.
Small spectral insects manifested within, impressions left over from the poison’s point of harvest. He recalled how the proprietor had lauded its use in foundation mending, using it to strip one’s cultivation that they might set better roots.
Another that did not know the value of what they held.
His prey’s corpse eroded, and Shuidi’s [Black Orchestrations Array] cleansed the remnants stains of their deed with [Water Qi] and other inscriptions of meaning as the trio rose to leave.
[Dao of Four Horizons].
They unfolded before a quiet tea shop, exchanging douli as a server rushed into a startled bow.
“Master cultivator! Do you desire a table?” he asked.
Fu smiled. “Most diligent Jin,” he greeted. “I believe my family already await?”
“Ah, Master Gao,” the server nodded, his returning smile one of genuine warmth. “Yes, Mistress Yuqi and Master Feng sit at your favourite table with patience. I shall have menus brought over at once.”
“No, Jin, do not trouble yourself. We are in your care here, and surely your staff know best. Please, as apology for my late arrival we shall have whatever you desire,” he said, dispensing a small bow.
Jin started at the undeserving face, yet more so at the attention this gained from the rest of the shop’s occupants. Ignoring the whispers from surrounding cultivators, Fu approached his waiting family.
Yuqi, Feng and Paxing stood in greeting. Yiji was asleep at the table’s foot, ensconced in a bed of decorative pillows.
Fu took his place as the servers arrived. “My children, you are early. I had wished to be the first to arrive. But all the better! Tell me of your mornings, my day is dull without it.”
🀨
Shuidi’s quill struck parchment with the same deftness as Pinxui possessed, curling ink with a soft, rhythmic melody. Reports had to be detailed with the past [Season’s] oddities. Namely that of [Constellation Seeds] and their prevalence within Divine Clouded Mountain.
The Cloudy Serpent Sect’s seat had such expectation, but if the offence was to be forgiven it would be only for those that shared their affiliation.
Four sun-facing cousins held this. Five unrepentant fools did not, daring to blindly claim treasure outwith their right.
Toads, lusting over swan meat.
“A history would be best. Our Master’s records held within the Beggar Sect’s vaults may hold insight, if we are granted permission to study them. Our findings must be weighed against written record.”
Notations finished, Shuidi stowed her parchment into storage before the room’s shadows lengthened.
“Fatherly [Asura],” greeted an emerging assassin.
Fu nodded. “Disciple. What news?”
Scrolls were deposited by the dozen atop his desk, and five bound missives were collected from his outgoing pile. “Of the Clear Sky, I have marked all that is relevant to your interests. The summaries collected regarding what senior states as ‘Heavenly Roaming Prefecture’, have been compiled within.”
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“Of local affairs?”
“One [Mystic Realm] within the Golden Merchant Canton has recently opened within the purchased domain of the Eleventh Vajra, to which the ownership is shallowly contested. Sentiment grows within the Western empire about propagating [Demonic] hordes given [Dour Faced Strategist’s] prolonged absence, rallying much of the sun-facing Sect’s interests. The youngest son of the White Dragon Sect has recently emerged from [Spring’s] Empire with a litter of fresh Imperials, granting them citizenship beneath their banner. Our Elders show concern over so bold a grab at influence, for his presence has long been subdued by the factions in control of the former Four Corners Prefecture.”
Fu committed these facts to memory. “Gratitude, disciple. It is good to keep abreast of local changes,” he said, expanding his [Senses]. “I see your mastery of the [Clouded Ghost Arts] has improved. Good, such swift progress is desirable.”
“If the Fatherly [Asura] did not impose his regimen upon us then we would yet have remained in stagnation. All gratitude is to be returned,” bowed the assassin.
“Spoken without resentment. Is this the case, disciple? Be free with your words.”
To have hatred fostered in those that ensure my family’s safety is a fool’s choice. Loyalty to the Gao clan must be assured, and yet, there are other disciples that might take their place.
The first home-bound ghost nodded in concert with his [Spirit Serpent]. “With truth, Fatherly [Asura]? To speak of our own thoughts and not for others- we had thought our Paths cut short. Appointment to mere guarding is a death for growth. For ghosts unworthy of greater tasks. All that we have learned since that day has squashed such notions.”
“I see,” mused Fu. “Know however, that these lessons mark only the minimum of what I deem as acceptable. Disbanded, my metric is that of the Wayward Winds. With continued service, more might be imparted.”
Again the disciple bowed. “These ghosts quiver before the immensity of the Fatherly [Asura’s] talent. More speaks of Heaven’s immensity, and how blindly we have walked the Path thus far.”
Shuidi clacked. “Untoubtedbly. This Gao Shuidi is yet to be impressed. One that walks near the river should not be surprised when robes become wet. The disciples stand as dry as desert sand. It will be rectified.”
“Mistress Shuidi?”
“The Empire of Abundant [Spring] held no crutch. One’s claws were their pillar. This Gao Shuidi demands more strife for these disciples,” she scoffed, lacing what came next with [Profundity]. “Still waters create poor sailors.”
With a hand on his whisker, Fu nodded. “Contribution Assignments are an adequate channel through which to temper yourselves. Yes. See that this is added to your regimen. One is sufficient.”
“These disciples will deliver proof of completion before [Season’s] end.”
Once more, the [Spirit Crab] scoffed. “[Season], disciple? Three ghosts stalk here. Ample time for but one to complete a task before the morrow.”
🀨
There was time enough for this.
“Softer,” he soothed.
Nuwang’s pride was well earned, for it was not this half of his daughter’s soul that struggled. Through a throng of citizens, Yuling’s subtle [Intent] was anything but.
Her composure held as irate [Spirit Beasts] grumbled in passing, less reserved than the cultivators that suffered such fragmented attacks. Amidst the canton’s more labour-heavy sections, few disciples walked that might take offence.
Though surely any not of the Cloudy Serpent Sect would be travellers, unwilling to sir trouble within their domain.
“Hushi, might you aid in this?”
Ever-clad in his midden, Hushi’s [Intent] leaked forth. With a mastery of its shape and scale it extended as an aura over any semblance of a wave, unnerving those that passed within two arm’s lengths.
The [Spirit Octopus’] notes were impressed to Nuwang, and on to Yuling.
“Not a definitive force, but a persistent one. I thank you for this instruction, uncle Hushi. I shall attempt to properly convey the tenth breath of effort and the breeze to nudge boughs.” So saying, Yuling attempted the feat once more.
Fu set a hand on her shoulder. “In time daughter. Let us not strain your [Spirit] before our destination. The strength of my daughters, when properly applied, will give rise to more trouble than the mere discomfort affected over this walk. Let us not bring trouble to her door.”
Already had Yuling questioned the propriety of this situation. To use the public as objects of training - more so her reticence at doing so - had brought a prideful smile to Fu.
“Not to misjudge your words, father, but you spoke of spiritual variety. Are my sparring bouts not sufficient for this? There are a great many talents under Mistress Sruti’s tutelage, and each would be willing to meet my [Intent].”
“They would, Yuling. While it is shameful to suppress the undeserving in this way, your [Intent] carries little weight. There is saying about greenhouse flowers, do you know it?”
The daughter nodded curtly. “I do.”
“It intersects your father’s Path. These folk are mindful, but powerful. Flavoured by a thousand minor acts. I ask you to exert your [Intent] only so you might feel the resistance, and implication of [Spirit] when pushed on another.”
Yuling bowed. “It is unpleasant.”
Fu set a grip on her shoulder. “Yes. I am glad you feel this way.”
A freshly painted building was found after several loops of the same avenue, eluding even an assassin’s [Senses]. It held the same oddity as before. Some mortal-grade coating applied with thick, even brushstrokes, lacking the Qi-rich, mist-warding varnish of most within Divine Clouded Mountain.
The entrance was as he recalled.
Hushi was first to approach the unoccupied counter, which proved the only free space in a littered, claustrophobic hall of discarded blades. He was mirthful as he took a beater, striking hard the wall-mounted gong.
A curtain severed this room for the next.
“By the [Dao’s] venerable taint,” roared a voice behind it, followed by no less than the sound of ten battlefields. An indecent in speech and appearance as he recalled, Fu’s former weaponsmith threw back the curtain. “Customers? I work by appointment alone.”
The Gao clan bowed in concert. “Venerable smith, an appointment has been made.”
“Pah, lies. I don’t take appointments,” she spat, wiping grease upon her apron. An apron, Yuling surely noticed, that held naught but flesh beneath it.
Fu smiled. “Ah, this appointment was set at our last meeting,” he said, unfolding several [Demonsteel] blades from his storage.
Her nose wrinkled. “Hmm. I’ve a recollection of you,” she said, thrusting a thumb at Yuling. “You’d another daughter then. She returned after your departure with fresh dumplings as gratitude. Yes, I’ve time for that one. You’ve more of these [Demonsteel] blades?”
Be it a pauper’s wisdom or simple greed, Fu did not allow things to go to waste. The Clouded Court’s spatial rings were not boundless and yet no sizeable fraction had been occupied with all he had accrued across his Path.
Which is to say every blade, tincture, [Pill], ingredient and treasure that his foes’ had not nailed down.
“One hundred was our previous price. Much has changed since then.”
“Empress’ breasts, I don’t enjoy mysterious words. State it plainly.”
Nuwang seemed irked by this attitude, turning her nose from the woman. Naturally Yuling was of the same view, if less public about her thoughts.
“A new chain, a query, and a beginning for my daughter. Noble smith, I hold over two thousand [Demonsteel] blades that I have no use for. Will this be enough?”
The smith wiped her brow, slathering its stain on her counter. “Wait there until I call. The shop’s ill suited for guests.” She barged back through her curtain without further words.
“Gao Fu.”
Wariness accompanied the Old One’s tone.
Old master? Is something amiss?
“How do you know this cultivator?”
Fu glanced at the curtain, speaking inwardly. “Yuqi brought me here once for repair. I did not seek her. Why, is something amiss?”
“A [True King Realm] cultivator should be no common merchant. Walk softly, this is my warning.”
Fu did not search her cultivation as they were shouted through, more curious than hesitant once the smith’s workshop was entered. A litany of implements, partial [Arrays] and discarded weapons yet littered the space.
Her definition of ill-suited holds different meaning.
“The daughter and query first, then we’ll tend to your needs. Gao Fu, I recall. Hushi, and a fresh companion,” she noticed. “Greetings, little crab. You’ve admirable claws, if delicate.”
The haughty [Spirit Crab] was mixed on this compliment.
“This daughter is named Gao Yuling.”
“This warrior greets you as Gao Nuwang,” mirrored her [Spirit Lion].
Spit cleansed a Qi-rich circlet of glass that the smith then looked through. Golden light faintly cycled about her eyes. “A warrior or daughter? Be one thing, children, as both. A wide Path encompasses all things, doesn’t it? Else, what’s the point of walking down it.”
“Warrior aspirant,” bowed Yuling.
“Oh, humility? You entered through Divine Clouded Mountain, no? By the daoist’s shaved scrotum, I’ve yet to find it there,” the smith sighed. Stalling by a table no less crowded by metallic detritus than any other, she beckoned for Yuling. “Martial Quintessence is one Path. Martial Essence, Martial Variety, Martial Mastery, and so on. You’ve the [Prowess] of indecision, warrior daughter. Twelve martial techniques for twelve martial weapons. When ordering tea do you sit with twelve cups?”
Nuwang’s head slightly lowered.
“Humbly, noble smith, this was my grandmother’s instruction. To foster understanding not of the weapons, but those that wield them.”
The smith edged her nail beneath a rusted dragon hammer, blasting it across the space for Fu to hastily catch. His [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud] itched from the effort.
“A mason? One of Carp Bludgeoning Hall? Your father hasn’t sublimated into a brute of marble physique- more is the pity. The merit of your grandmother’s insight is half-baked. Squandered on youth.”
“My grandmother is the [Cherry River Sage],” fumed Yuling.
Fu’s brow arched. “Daughter.”
A cascade of red coloured her. Shame and disbelief that immediately had her go prostrate. “A thousand-”
“That acerbic whore is your grandmother?” laughed the smith.
The laughter was shared.
This woman has my favor.
“Father!” scolded Yuling, viewing him from the floor.
“Get up child,” the smith said, prying Yuling to her feet. “Our deal isn’t void because of old animosity. It’ll give me great pleasure to vex the [Cherry River Sage]. Indeed, I’ve grown motivated in these past moments. Go to the table, the process is changed.”
All the [Profundity] about her lessened.
Rare were the times that Yuling stuttered. “No… noble smith?”
“Your father wished for a weapon forged. The daughter’s first. My [Dao] would select fate’s intended instrument, and yet, no more. Now I demand you defy the stars, girl. As warriors do, choose your own.”
Certainty returned to Yuling, and Fu set a small kiss on her forehead before following the smith deeper.
Hushi enjoyed the air here, finding it unusually crisp.
“A query?” the smith grunted.
Fu withdrew a near thread-like chain. An acquisition from [Spring’s] Empire. “My travels had me come across this weapon. As I am young in the Path I have never before seen its ilk. A soul is interred within.”
It was snatched, roughly. “Barbaric,” she spat. “But that’s not your query.”
“No. I had thought to use it, but the [Spirit Condor’s] will contravenes my vocation. If this offends?”
Strong sensations of will emanated from the soul-bound chain. Vicious, prideful and feral as Fu empathized any might be if entombed within material, though he knew not the process for it. Nor could he secure firm readings on the subject even within the Clouded Archives.
These sensations soothed at her touch. “Pervasive Vajra techniques. [Dao]-blessed blood does not grant Heaven’s authority. Gao Fu, black-heart. Give me this,” she growled, weighing something behind her eyes. “Pah. Give me this and the labour you’ll receive will improve tenfold.”
“All acts require all focus. This Gao Shuidi does not act in half, nor does the noble smith. Labour is secured either way,” the [Spirit Crab] offered.
Fu stepped back, symbolically. “Shuidi speaks true, I expect. Yet we have no claim on this weapon outside discovery. Please, do what you will with it.”
The smith grunted. “Empress’ breasts, a yes will do.” She set the chain down gently. “Hmph. You recall the process?”
Amidst clutter, the assassins took an opening stance. The first pose of their [Wind Phantom Strides].
“We do, noble smith.”
A general grunt alluded to Yuling’s presence some strides away. “The daughter needn’t see this. Youth should be hidden from the moon.”
Thin then, were Fu’s lips. “My greatest shame as a father,” he said. “They alone among my children suffered at the moon’s hand. With regret, Yuling already knows the depths of her father’s blackened heart.”