…to address the sparsity within our branch’s realm.

  The [Far Whisper] has prevented the accumution of natural resources, despite the instinctual quiet of our local popution of [Spirit Beasts].

  Herein lies a compendium within the March’s suitable distance.

  [Water Q [Imperial Realm 5,501]

  Three interconnected caves with varying degrees of [Core Formation Grade] purity, filtered with sufficient levels of [Soul Q.

  The eastern sea holds myriad quantities of [Spirit Coral], accumuted and harvested over a span of three hundred moons to prevent depletion.

  Addendum: (Last collection: Two hundred and thirty four moons prior)

  North, the Imperial Repository controls movement to deposits of [Ghostwater Ore] along the riverbank, forbidding access.

  [Water Q [Imperial Realm 11,301]

  A range of four thousand li beyond the [Paifang] connecting this, and [Imperial Realm 454], lies the domain of a powerful [Spirit Ape]. Deludedly self-styled as the Ten Waterfalls King.

  Attempts to breach his territory in search of the potent spiritual herbs within are not advised.

  Furthermore…

  “Imperial Interests, Yellow.” - Three Intricacies Cn, [Shores of Heavy Whisper]

  The methods of prolonged battle came in turn. [Sound Q would ravage the chamber, descend in physical rings both from the daoist’s bell and the rattle overhead. For each set enacted from the [Wind Phantom Strides], Fu would introduce more.

  An upturn, and rotation, then [Half Cloud Step] would surge so that her calf might be scored near the tendon. Separation, csh, fresh motions from the ever-present chime to dissuade this course again.

  But Fu would wait. Sustain his course so that the daoist might think this the extent of his abilities.

  [Dao of Withdrawal].

  In two steps he emerged beneath her guard, and the force of his burst was such that her gun split in twain on the defence.

  Her [Sound Q washed across the chamber as he vanished once more.

  [Wind Phantom Strides]. His chain at distance. Close. [Half Cloud Step]. A shift between martial styles to keep this foe ever on the backfoot.

  Yet to describe it as this might put Fu upon some intangible pilr, untouched by blows or the radiating manifestations that wracked the space.

  Where truth had him bloodied.

  The daoist was no fledgling, nor fresh disciple. As expected of one that stood at the peak of this pagoda- the leader of the [Spring] Chime cn, or one, for his intelligence had revealed little where their hierarchy was concerned.

  Now, she wielded her gun as Zhu did his tong fa. One length in each hand, striking, as if she wished to will the air afme.

  Fu’s [Senses] warned of a change above, near obscured by his bnket of mists. A field so thick that naught but the motion of those within could be inaccurately traced.

  The [Sound Q’s physical presence rumbled now. It distorted the cdding fog by whorling and pushing so that his [Withdrawal] carried him as an errant current might. Far left, where he wished right, and into the path of the rattle’s own conjurations.

  He remained within. His body was mist, and a part of this moving fugue, carrying him where the force pushed beneath a colossal drain of mental energy. Fu felt adrift. Pained. Exhaustion mounted in the passing moments.

  After all, this csh depended only on time. It awaited Shuidi’s efforts above.

  This daoist is truly talented. No matter what occurs, we must cripple her.

  Hushi impressed the same thought.

  And lurched.

  Both cultivator and [Spirit Octopus] converged, timing their movements to sail above more waves of unleashed [Sound Q. Skyward. In simplicity, Fu’s chain encircled the great suspended rattle, choking the scales with each tightening link. And from here he sped, rebounding through the [Wind Phantom Strikes].

  From north to east to south and west, spurred on by [Half Cloud Step] as the daoist gave chase with her manifestations. His feet pnted upon the chamber’s interior wall- the serpent’s wound body, propelling him in swift arcs to fasten the noose further with every rotation.

  Hushi’s attempt far differed.

  Six arms of wind streamed in the mist-rich arena, cmping atop his chain. Another encirclement, but a physical gale that now represented his partner’s flesh.

  Twin impressions followed.

  [Dao of Crushing].

  Gold permeated Hushi’s wind-like form in tandem with a glow that rode Fu’s weapon. The characters shone profoundly, manifesting as they had not before.

  Where once there came a second chain, or second arm, lending strength to the effort- no longer. There was no leave to ponder why.

  The force magnified.

  Deafened, Fu heard no recoiling screech nor agonized hiss. He saw blood fount, birthed as both he and Hushi’s pressure of [Dao] pulverized all between their grasps. All about the room thrashed as the [Spirit Serpent] processed its pain, unspooling to smash great gaps through the pagoda’s exterior.

  Debris rained, a rattle fell, and the created holes had his mists trail outside.

  With a swift eye he found himself gncing. Open air was close, as was the reeling daoist no more than twenty strides away. Resonant pain had overcome her. Common for Imperials whose borders had never been troubled.

  Her serenity had broken, and her hands swabbed over phantom sensations in legs that yet remained intact.

  Rarely did regret ce his bde, thus the blow was gentle. A heart punctured. How he cradled her to the ground followed this fashion. But no more. Courtesy could never deter duty.

  The surrounding winds coalesced as Fu broached the pagoda’s edge, seeing a chaos of Imperials crowd the tower’s far base. Yellows, and further reserves of Orange given the honor of entering a district of the caste above.

  Here, it seemed Five Silences City held entire avenues of their colour.

  Hushi met his shoulder, content in his un-reflected form. Reduced enough that his midden hugged as Fu roamed to the tallest point of the [Spring] Chime compound, passing an urgent resonance through his brooch.

  As fresh wind filled his lungs, Shuidi greeted her partners. The diminutive [Spirit Crab] scuttled atop the final trim at the roof’s cap. A decorative rod, and the element of the [Spring] Chime’s undoing.

  Confirmation of Pinxui’s report had long been handled by [Intermediary Wisdom], spied across a distance from their Warship.

  “Is it done, sister?” he asked, unable to hear his own words.

  Her pincer tapped upon no small mass of [Profundity]. To an intersection of golden circuits that used this rod as a fulcrum. Fu bent to inspect it, and the illumination of his [Karma]-seeking beacon cast all that he required.

  A resonance returned from below.

  Moments.

  The target upon his back, this sun-matching light, would be seen for a thousand li. This was doubtless. With the use of his ears Fu might witness the response below. What cries came from Yellow Moon Hall or the remaining ascetics, or what fresh orders were about to unmake his position so high above.

  But he waited. Held, until three matching signatures surged to the rooftop aside him. That of Anfang, Parvati and Udvah. The ttermost’s beacon was swollen- bulging as if yered with those of many others.

  Udvah exchanged words with readable motion. “[Dao of Sanctuary],” he shared, and answered all.

  To respond, Fu gestured high. “Swiftly.”

  Then Shuidi’s [Water Q solidified. No mist to be swept away, but rivulets spread across the entirety of the pagoda’s peak. Simple half-spheres. Drops that snapped to become needles in the time one might take to breath.

  More than mere disruption.

  Shuidi’s manipution surged in myriad directions along the [Array] interred there, raging in golden light to bze further and further. From peak to base, and on to each corner of the Yellow district’s entirety.

  Some facet of Fu cursed his temporary deafness, for the sound would be a thing to behold. But he leapt first, and boarded the deck of a lesser Warship as it emerged from Udvah’s storage. The [Dao of Collections] already enrging it- thrusting it forward as his second commanded it to soar.

  And below… Below, Five SIlences City ruptured. Night was here, and the [Far Whisper] carried. Words could not describe the chaos of toppling structures, nor how the very ground colpsed and swallowed those about the [Spring] Chime cn’s compound.

  Ctter giving rise to more.

  Amidst it Fu held his expression calm, a hand on the Warship’s rail. His disciples emerged from the [Dao of Sanctuary], well-bloodied and awestruck.

  No beacon shone between them.

  ?

  Caution bid the Wayward Winds to the farthest skies, as it would for a time. He needed field no address on his return to the main vessel, not to his inaugurated nor those recruited from the Crimson Shoal Sect or True Serendipity Association. Identified as such until their trial was passed, and he held no split in factions.

  Regardless, many saw his arrival and that of the disciples to his rear. He was sure that whispers rose between them, for their lips moved in subtle fashion. Gazes, more, for they were wide until averted by a following bow.

  Another bath was drawn. Another bath was had. Indeed, the rejuvenating [Spirit Herbs] afloat there almost had him slumber within the calming heat. But he could not, and wrapped his thoughts around a more prevalent course.

  The ears mended first. His cultivation came second.

  Such simplicity: the cycling of Qi, the refilling of his [Core] and progress towards stubborn [Meridians] had hours pass.

  A [Spirit Core] aided more, tolerated by [Pull].

  [MERIDIAN CLEANSED]

  [Control] +9,

  [Capacity] +9,

  [Resilience] +6,

  [Might] +6,

  [Spirit] +1,

  Fu’s surprise pulled more grimace than smile, for this seemed another facet of his life that had ranged from control. How he had not realised that progress was so close…

  Beratement would serve no purpose, and so he inspected all his [Ink] had to show.

  [Insight Gained]

  [Dao of Crushing] [First Pool] [Middle]

  Insight +10

  [Hollow Ivory Splinter]

  Your [Dantian] is yet ravening.

  [Pull] +8

  Outwith his notice, the tub had emptied. [Water Q drawn until no liquid remained, or simply from the produced heat his body now shed, it mattered not. Only that Shuidi now cmbered to rest atop his knee.

  Expectant in impression.

  “Our [Dao] has changed, no?” he asked, but this musing was absent. “I feel we have grown since our arrival here. To hedge a daoist’s guess, perhaps how we know the [Dao of Crushing] is a reflection of this. More direct.”

  Hushi joined the pair, drawing a woollen robe for his cultivator. A mortal consideration, for a chill could no longer trouble him, but still he took this comfort. Some small reprieve that could not detract from further reflection.

  Myriad lines of thought returned him to the overt actions of these past weeks. The loudness of a [Season].

  [Karma] had forced his hand, vexingly. The presence of Imperials about the [Paifang], doubly. No mystique surrounded his Wayward Winds save for identity, though to those of the Abundant [Spring] that hardly mattered.

  They knew they were not alone within this realm, and that was enough.

  Fu toyed with his whisker. “If one is to do a thing, it should be done correctly. Yet I cannot sit here and cim excuses. To extol the virtues of stealth and then act against them, such are the makings of a poor senior. Is it hubris, I wonder? Or do I ck more than I have feared?”

  His Bonds were silent. Pensive.

  Absent now, he felt at the space where his [Three Eyed Spying Array] lingered. Inert, and lonesome without proximity to the Sect.

  Millenia old. A Pilr.

  Their beginning could not have been so troubled. To have sted since the sea had turned to mulberry fields- to witness dust become mountains and the same peaks ground to powder once more.

  If he was to stay this course, would the same be said?

  Would they see another [Season], or would their pns change yet again?

  Shuidi shared an image, one of a thick and sprouting trunk. Her words pin, if a half-resignation.

  “Trees do not begin tall,” Fu nodded. “Perhaps.”

  ?

  [Arrays] were ever underfoot, woven into the city’s fabric. So great the [Far Whisper’s] threat presented.

  That was how the district yet stood. Those spectral towers, spied previously by those within the Wayward Winds as they first bore witness to the [Realm’s] unique hazard what seemed like myriad [Seasons] prior.

  Fu had watched them after his departure from the [Spring] Chime cn, rising to quell what might have proved the ultimate destruction. Ruins now etched the affair into history. A rampant mess some hundred li wide that showed all that had been wrought.

  The sight was far now far distant, seen from the deck of a descending Warship. One night after.

  Udvah sat in contemption at the bow in quiet exchange with Mangam. What opinions he held were unknown, but for the journey ahead Fu could guess it to be excitement.

  For those that would support him - in so far as their orders allowed - their thoughts were a second unknown.

  Disembarking took little time, arriving his disciples before one severed [Paifang].

  Fu gave silent thanks to the Heavens that no Imperials were stationed there, reasoning that either efforts of reconstruction or death might py a part in their absence.

  Six of the Wayward Winds held as Udvah plied his [Shaving of the First Gate] atop the wooden frame, his palm spreading a sheen of violet across the threshold. “Amituofo. It is done. Tread lightly.”

  There came a passing of bows, for those beneath the head knew their orders. Timings, roles and duties. How they might best extend Pinxui’s web of knowledge concerning the [True Orchid Path], and their equipment matched this.

  “It is contrary to a cultivator’s nature, but recall, disciples, that the opportunities you might chance upon will not vanish. The future is unending, and the Empire of Abundant [Spring] holds myriad benefits. Those you will soon access,” Fu shared, considering the glint in each of his disciple’s eyes.

  Rowdy youths. But diligent. Is this not why we selected them, sister?

  Shuidi held herself imperiously, suppressing the eager [Spirit Beasts] of her juniors with a quite diminutive gre.

  “As you will, senior,” returned the six. [Pill]-rich and armed with no stock weapons. Fine armaments, of an equivalent with early [Core Formation] only. Any grander…

  Well, he would not spoil them.

  Udvah bowed for his departure, allowing the six to cross the [Paifang] before him. “If it needs said, then this cking seeker would once more extend gratitude. Amituofo. A blessing, to be gifted time to ascend. It is wished that Senior Gao Fu leads a dull Path until our return.”

  “Good fortune, brother,” said Fu.

  The Vajra vanished into violet.

  It was routine that followed, if only into the early morning.

  The transcribing of a fresh [Body Cultivation] manual drawn from the Old One’s records- eased by his recent increase to [Insight]; a meeting of his schorly disciples in which they talked of inventory and more regimented cataloguing systems; and a brief exchange with Sonali and Xiong, addressing matters of Warship maintenance.

  Small acts. Necessary acts.

  These were as rowing an oar across calm water. Taxing in only so much as they were continuous.

  What inspired more than short contemptive thoughts soon arose within his training hall. Within a constructed eave, Fu and Hushi had sat. Observing. Serpents moved adjacent, accustomed to the lofty perches that they now named home.

  Mortal beasts were plentiful, and shied from the exposed Hushi as he basked in the oppressive warmth about them. But three were not. Three constricted about the eave’s underside, showing reverence to their senior with small affectations of tongue and gaze.

  Largest, the ivory snake’s fork whispered. It shared words with the [Spirit Octopus], of a nature that seemed not to be for human ears.

  Thus Fu’s attention had remained on the training ahead.

  He watched Crimson Shoal disciples excel under Anfang’s tutege. How fists met and motions were followed beneath the banner of sparring. Being of Martial discipline, these recruits adopted the [Yin Equilibrium Arts] well, supplementary to their own Sect’s- former Sect’s [Prowess].

  In rotation, the True Serendipity Association’s disciples were few at this hour. Cultivators of more schorly pursuit, and this Path reflected in their progress.

  Slow, to say the least. A canvas already painted, unlike the state of his own initiates.

  The trouble was not held here, if it could be so named.

  Matters of attitude were prevalent in the Jianghu. Pride, honor and face could not be so easily unwritten, even beneath the hospitality offered by his Wayward Winds. Already had he dealt with such matters, and Fu’s direct disciples knew well his thoughts on it.

  The Crimson Shoal did not.

  Evidently.

  For long minutes Fu saw two of their number spar with no punches pulled. Deeper cuts where their [Spirit Beasts] teeth should be shallow.

  The ivory serpent beside him tensed, perhaps in retaliation to Fu’s long-drawn sigh.

  “Initiates,” grunted Anfang.

  Oh?

  Sternly, his Martial Head crossed the distance, stepping over the form of a cringing disciple of the True Serendipity Association. One battered, her [Spirit Frog] rasping its croaks.

  “Head Wu,” one greeted, and met only her weary look.

  “Initiates,” she repeated.

  A second member of the Crimson Shoal moved aside the first.

  She has them readily admit their guilt. What reputation does she hold here?

  “This serves no purpose. Weren’t you of a righteous Sect? A poor stock if this is standard among your ranks,” she continued, gncing along the line. “Is this so?”

  These two members riled. “Head Wu!” they protested. “We cannot be tarred with the same brush! If these initiates of [Mind] cannot handle our [Might], then surely they should not train among us!”

  “Don’t flout such false concerns. It’s tiresome. But-” Anfang’s partner raised a leg, signalling to the eaves. “Disciple Jinjin!”

  A [Foundation Realm] blur delivered two strikes to the unwitting Crimson Shoal. An oddity of fmes propelled them, burning with bckened tongues. One atop Jinjin’s foot, and another atop the cw of his [Spirit Mole].

  A [Dao Principle] taken from the candle. These disciples surprise me.

  Something in how the other initiates held still told Fu that Anfang would reprimand the startled, either in movement or in a pse of their fledgling [Clouded Ghost Arts].

  She gave a curt nod. “Disciple Jinjin, what is your Path?”

  “[Mind], Head Wu,” he returned.

  “Your vocation?”

  “A cking alchemist, Head Wu,” he returned again.

  Anfang dismissed him, and left the reeling Crimson Shoal to pick themselves from the sand. “Would any other initiates like to endorse a specific Path?”