(Continued)

  [Spatial Q [Imperial Realm 8,992]

  A Nexus realm with myriad borders between the Yellow and Orange Marches. Populous, its inclusion within this compendium is solely for the open markets that take pce [Season]-long.

  With our majority presence within the Realm there is little to note, save that diligence must be ensured when in contact with the travelling associations that frequent here.

  (Note) Golden Orchid Hall has designs to encroach upon our stake here, and all efforts must be met swiftly.

  [Spatial Q [Imperial Realm 22,700]

  Rare deposits of Ephemeral Star metal frequently appear to the east of the solitary [Paifang], known for their abundance in pure [Spatial Q attributes.

  Northward, all attempts to progress have been met with a dense, natural [Array] of void-aligned [Spatial Q, warding all expeditions further due to the loss of critical numbers of casualties.

  It should be noted that our schors determine a treasure of unquestionable strength to lie there. - One that transcends the mere [Foundation Grade] of the realm.

  Shuidi tapped twice upon the tome, prideful.

  “Indeed. Brother Udvah has chosen a much troubled realm to ascend his cultivation,” said Fu.

  Then, continued reading.

  [Spatial Q [Imperial Realm 8,531]

  Entrenched behind a sea of myriad…

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

  These Yellows held a btant heaviness in their step, despite how regimented they marched. Of those assembled, between citizenry and martial experts, the weight upon their shoulders was pin to see.

  Fu stood in a crowd of hundreds, repeated in myriad clearings across Five Silences City.

  Cultivators of note presided. Here, they were densest of all.

  Imperial Magistrate Baji was a slight Vajra, and seemed reserved in his motions. Shy, or proper, it mattered little. Only that the address now given was a quiet one.

  “Harden your hearts,” his voice travelled, unconvinced. “Pce faith in our venerable [Sixth Under Heaven]. All designs are his own.”

  Patriarch Asik’s presence, and that of a staggering retinue to the Magistrate’s rear suppressed an expected discontent, be that murmur or open outrage.

  Though if Fu could glean any in this crowd it would be a rare thing.

  “The [Spring] Chime cn’s destruction is a fresh wound to our Empire, a cut struck only some four nights prior. A transgression that will not be suffered lightly. These false Imperials will answer for their crimes: they will be met with swift and righteous justice. To that end, I, as Magistrate, will pce Yellow Moon Hall as our wardens.”

  This straightened the spines of the surrounding Imperials.

  As if a scolded child sent to make reparations, Baji looked to Asik. Yet all he received was a passing stare. “[Spring’s] blessings,” he said, parting to give the Patriarch this stage.

  Coldly, the second address began. “To the false Imperials in this crowd- you will be found, and [Spring’s] wrath delivered. On the [Dao], it is sworn.” Asik left thereafter, ceasing what small ceremony had held the citizenry together.

  Fu found it revetory, for the Magistrate’s own forces were eclipsed by those that trailed in Asik’s wake. It left a simir deficit in attention as it did bodies, and a clear demonstration of what faith the citizenry held in their ruler.

  Former, or no.

  “Curfew,” was among one word the quiet Magistrate offered. “No Yellow is to walk alone,” followed shortly. “Martial Law,” and the like.

  Five Silences City turns militant. What prevented them from doing so before?

  Behaviour showed much more than the characters scrawled upon a scroll, drawing fresh considerations. But the Wayward Winds had descended for more than this, and Fu began to navigate the parting crowd.

  Past days were driven towards countermeasures. Above and below.

  While Pinxui boured to identify any [Karma]-nullifying treasures within the yet-catalogued haul from the Three Intricacies cn, Fu sought the source. The city’s devastation was clear, but he would not allow a repeat of the previous inciting incident.

  He met a crater soon enough. To Yellow Moon Hall’s credit the subservient Castes already whiled away at re-construction, having erected impossible scaffolds from which to restore the city’s infrastructure.

  Ropes, tethers, pulleys and more dominated a reach of near one hundred li, ptformed with myriad forest’s worth of wood. Here the Oranges toiled, and to the bowels, Reds mirrored it.

  Even after tragedy there would be dishonour in having the lower Castes aid them. It seems a waste of bour, unless more is required that we know.

  Hushi recalled the weapons of this Empire’s suppression. Red ingredients, Orange and Yellow. Those that curbed cultivation and growth in tandem with limiting sutras for cultivation. Querying then, the materials used here.

  A good question.

  Fu might guess at the answer, but uncertainty was a poor substitute for fact. As such, he fell into observation.

  The [Spring] Chime cn were few, holding a base presence of injured souls. Mournful, the survivors oversaw construction with half efforts. To lose belonging was no shallow cut, more so to see it in every colpsed beam.

  And loss was a vulnerability.

  Drawn from the Beggar, Bo, Fu unearthed a pipe. Milder now than the trapped item that had earned his trouble within [Imperial Realm 31,586], imprisoning him amongst sky-scraping towers. This was a mundane article of a wood, fit for mortals.

  With a fresh [Meridian] opened, and a bolstered [Capacity], he attuned his breath to small wisps of mist. Negligible amounts, and surprisingly fitting practice for [Qi Manipution] through the [Clouded Ghost Arts].

  Then he made his approach, nearing a solitary figure. “Brother Yellow,” he met, bowing as was appropriate.

  “Amitabha, brother. [Spring’s] peace upon you,” returned the mencholy ascetic, fixated with the prayer beads upon his neck. His back to a [Spirit Stag] of iron-grey fur.

  “And you,” said Fu, and Beggar’s Tongue wisped from his pipe. “My greetings are unorthodox, but such troubled times call for solidarity, no? What condolences I might offer are given freely.”

  “A kindness. Amitabha.”

  There are cms more open than this daoist.

  “To lose our fellows… In my few years I had not expected such. That… no- Ah, apologies brother,” Fu stuttered. “My own heart is heavy, and I share the burden with you. Let me trouble you no longer.”

  His poison circuted, and he took one step.

  “No, no. This humble Yellow cannot see the clouds for rain, it is he who should offer apology. Please,” he offered, drowsily. “Amitabha. Sit. Company is no trouble, and weights shared are weights halved.”

  Fu cpped his hand on the man’s shoulder. “As you say, brother.”

  “This humble Yellow would admit his confidence shaken. The Heavens are cruel to allow such acts. Yet this is known. Our [Spring] Chime cn is but scattered dust now, and you, brother, there is sadness in you. Loss.”

  “My [Dao Partner] was among your venerable fallen. Honoured to stand at the [Karmic] chosens’ side, and undone by-” As if the words escaped him, Fu had his palm open. “To share how darkly she fell is no credit to her name. These false Imperials are no righteous souls.”

  The [Hundred Immunities Fruit] shared how [Poison Q was well entrenched in the man ahead of him, and how swiftly the [Spirit Stag] had succumbed.

  “Dark deeds. This humble daoist would swear a curse upon the [Dao] if his power was not so feeble. No less is fitting for these fallen monks.”

  A mask of bemusement, next. “A curse?” he slowly said. “Brother, do not forsake your [Dao]! We are in Patriarch Asik’s fabled care. Yellow Moon Hall will surely lead the second charge soon, therein lies your chance to right things.”

  “Amitabha. Words spoken by the hopeful. If Yellow Moon Hall possesses but one [Cord of Meetings] this may pass, and yet- to speak darkly…” The ascetic referenced all that y ruined about them.

  No method was safe from all influences, and Fu saw a spark of confusion in the man. A look that questioned why his tongue wagged so freely. “The worst has come, brother. Is it not said that small men make molehills into mountains? And great men, molehills into nothing at all? Patriarch Asik will right these matters.”

  The [Spirit Stag] shuddered, though the concentration of [Poison Q did not lessen.

  To flee now is unwise. He perhaps senses my disingenuity, or holds a [Resilience] soon to counteract my poison. I must be more convincing.

  “To speak of weights halved, I would enjoy an ear to listen. My wife, my Mei… might I tell you of her?” Fu veered.

  Muddled, the ascetic accepted.

  Fu settled in. “Then I only hope I do not distract you from duty. A thousand scrolls would be insufficient for all I have to say.”

  ?

  A house did not stand on one pilr, but neither might one rely blindly on those freshly erected. Knowing this had Fu absent and ever did these concerns have him peer across marshnd, unable to penetrate the mire of sunken earth.

  Night had fallen on Five Silences City. Two disciples took to its shadows.

  Distant.

  The decision had come in contemption, when Fu recalled his own progression. For there was no greater truth than his own ck of talent- and none had coddled him. In simir straits, this younger generation would no doubt excel.

  Anfang teased with a look, marking his expression as less than a ghost’s should be. Alongside, she mouthed silent insults. Capitalising upon her senior’s well-occupied mind.

  It was a poor state of preparation, but allowed as it was not his own actions that mattered at the minute.

  [Mist Q pathed a circle. Low slung wisps, thick and stationary. How it cut about the marshnds was clearly no natural thing, though in this pce and at this time there was little to draw worry.

  Shuidi’s cws pinched, as if severing air or pruning ragged thread.

  Then her [Array] manifested.

  After some few weeks of tutege, her first conjuration sprouted. The circuit of [Mist Q barely shuddered, and might be excused by a passing breeze. But all therein adopted the meaning she imparted to the Qi.

  Just as Feng might, or [An Array in One Hand]. Geniuses, both.

  Fu tread over the boundary, and such meaning met him in force. Noise, trapped. The breath he passed, and… well, the potentiality of sound underfoot. Even one of his young standing within the Clouded Courts no longer created sound when stepping.

  “A [Remedial Silence Array]. Foundational. An apprentice’s work.”

  In his mind’s eye, Fu bowed gratitude.

  It is much like Linhua’s soundless [Art]. And, sister, it is under the discipline of your [Clouded Ghost Arts]. Undetectable.

  Anfang crossed next, but inspection had Fu ignore her.

  Your [Core] is much diminished to create it. There is no persistent drain of [Inner Q. The [Array Fgs] are conjured from mist, and obscured by it.

  The [Spirit Crab’s] triumph impressed much pride from her partners, bringing both Hushi and Fu to share their congratutions. Her oddity of response was a retreat within her shell, and a rising shame.

  To share a soul- the pair understood their sister, speaking no more. Without the Old One they would not know of the [Arrays] imperfections, but any were a stain upon the prideful [Spirit Crab’s] honor.

  Thus, Anfang. “Senility. Yes, I’ve a mind to usurp the Wayward Winds for this.”

  “Oh? My junior grows bold,” returned Fu, darkly.

  She snorted. “Another mark against your talents. Recall, I’ve always been bold. That it’s escaped your notice till now shows how heavy those greying hairs grow.”

  Fu took her measure, shrugging internally. “A tongue like that shows how you yearn to progress. So, come, release your [Intent].”

  And it came.

  Her pressure arrived as any other might. Unaligned. Physical force pushed against Fu’s [Spirit], reaching an area that he might compare with his own upon first training with Yunhan. It did not dissuade the [Array].

  “[Killing Intent],” he ordered.

  A bloody tint overcame the air. Anfang’s malice, made palpable.

  “A steady field. Admirable.”

  His own [Intent] probed, growing in output until he met the strength that she could no longer sustain it. To morph into [Killing Intent] over the unaligned presence of soul would be inadvisable, and so he did not.

  Myriad cshes had strengthened his. No peak specialist, but a small step above those that shared his [Realm].

  “Old man, how long did it take you to refine yours?” she asked.

  Fu puffed his pipe, ever training. “My own is a mark of quantity, not time,” he said, seeing that this did not fulfil her curiosity.

  My Martial Head. This is a matter of trust, perhaps, or a matter of propriety. Who would follow a cultivator that has tread the Path for less than one moon?

  History could not be repeated. Only Zhu knew his tale, and Udvah, if shallow.

  “[Beast Tides],” he continued.

  “Your [Intent] was refined against [Beast Tides]?” she queried, turning eager. “Where’s the nearest? I so long for a direct fight. When Udvah’s seclusion is complete, I’d raise my name to be next.”

  “Peace, youth. One thing that cultivators are rarely pressed by is time. A chance will come, if you will it. Yet it is not a course I would advocate for.”

  From her shoulder, Qiqui ballooned to nd aside the [Array]. The [Spirit Spider] curious of its composition. “Crisis is merely opportunity, riding a dangerous wind. Yes, old man, I’ve heard you share this wisdom a thousandfold. Unless you’ve other benefits in mind for my advancement? After pilging the Three Intricacies vault there’s few pces within the city that I might acquire… opportunities.”

  With mild strength, Fu flexed his [Intent]. “Direct training from one’s senior is not an opportunity?”

  “I’ve only reached this standard so those I train can reach it, no? The impression that I hold talent- which is not distant from the simple truth that I am an overflowing cup - is no pceholder for true martial understanding. Am I not to keep ahead of the curve? It’ll leave me treading water without myriad [Pills] and treasures.”

  The btant openness of her words pulled Shuidi from her self-recrimination. One swift leap brought her to Anfang’s foot, yet dwarfed by even the littlest toe. Then her pincer moved.

  [Intent] upon it.

  Her power was condensed, as Ban Bingbai’s [Four Directions Tribution Array] had taught. A granite fme upon carapace.

  It met flesh, and Anfang recoiled in pain. Her hand at her [Dantian].

  “Senior Shuidi,” she baulked. “I didn’t-”

  Again the pincer touched.

  “Replicate the formation of [Intent] shown,” said Fu, neutral despite his amusement. “Condense it, hold it, refine it further, and yer it upon a singur point.”

  Qiqui blurred to her cultivator’s side, ushering her to the lotus position. Then came an intensity rarely seen.

  The surrounding [Intent] withdrew. No tide, but motions upon a riverbank. All pressure abated, sinking into Anfang’s opposing palms to be cradled betwixt them.

  Already she has taken the first and second steps. If only I had a measure for genius, then I might mark her as such.

  Fu recalled his own training. The imminence of death that had spurred him on.

  Minutes passed. An hour. Some count above that, the disciple’s [Intent] spluttered out. All the while he watched.

  “Bah,” Anfang finally spat. “Not quite.”

  Quiet.

  “Tell me how to do it.”

  Hushi and Shuidi impressed conflicting emotions. One of humour, and the other of outrage.

  But in slow heartbeats Fu was before her, held in his own lotus position. “To demand such a thing within the Clouded Courts would have Master Jinjie drown nine generations of your family in [Sunset Venom].”

  “Ah, but the Fatherly [Asura] isn’t this Jinjie that none within the Wayward Winds have heard tale of,” she teased. Anfang’s features returned to focus, becoming a mirror of Fu’s own. How her [Intent] reduced was a match for his own, only struggling when it came to maintaining a shape upon her hand.

  “Do not strain yourself,” Fu eased. “Too much focus is on continually compressing your [Intent], limit the force. Think on intensity, not range.”

  Sweat beaded. Her brow furrowed. The [Intent] between her palms caught abze in myriad coating sparks.

  The Wayward Winds need not worry if all hold such talent.

  “Well done, disciple,” he said, and granted a rare smile.

  Anfang shared a wolfish grin. “You’d expected less? I am the Martial Head.”

  “I would have you refine it further. No matter how impressive, if it does not become instinct then it is as much a curse as a boon. And yet, that you have managed to develop it in a single sitting is a feat of merit.”

  “Worthy of treasures, no?”

  Fu sighed quite pinly. “If we held access to a [Contribution Exchange], or you held a [Contribution Array] as all disciples do- the task would be easier. Any in the Wayward Winds might gain what they desire this way.”

  Perhaps something showed then. Be it his gnce to Five Silences City, or a subtler aspect that Anfang could glean, but her pride became quiet. “The [Cords of Red Meeting] will be secured, senior, or their locations made known. Those tasked with their retrieval aren’t fools.”

  A fervent nod came from Qiqui, watching Shuidi with care.

  “To have a child raised properly, they must know a little cold, a little hunger and a little disappointment. It is the parent’s role to ensure this is no hazard, but a lesson, despite how they might wish to dote and spoil.”

  His [Spirit Beasts] warmed in rare agreement.

  “Dangerous winds?”

  “Dangerous winds, disciple. A senior is much like this. Circumstance and my mistakes have exposed us to loud, unfavourable gusts, and a senior’s duty is to put disciples in their care. My concern is not from a ck of faith, but in knowing that the Heavens are ever cruel.”

  Quite perceptively, Anfang pierced him again. “Then Gao Fu is a parent, to speak as he does?”

  [Pills] arrived in Fu’s hand. “Pinxui retrieved these before our departure. They will greatly strengthen your foundations, as I would advise all things should. At the middle stages of your [Cultivation Realm], the effect will surely be a boon.”

  Once proffered, the vial of ten [Pills] was immediately snatched. It had Qiqui berate her cultivator, no doubt impressing much as her legs sternly waggled.

  “I’d have preferred a [Body Refinement] technique. Or a [Bloodline] treasure. Another [Dao]. What use are these unnamed [Pills]?” she stated, though her grip was white-knuckled upon the vial.

  Development is her purview, so an outline would not be dangerous to reveal. Hers is a… good natured greed.

  Four fingers rose, falling individually as Fu’s points were shared. Yet most were lies to begin with. “What you ask for will come. First, a disciple’s foundations must be tempered. Qi Purity. To draw the ambient Qi into your [Meridians] is a simple feat, but I would not climb a tower made half of sand and half of stone. The upper heights of cultivation cannot be reached without this refinement.”

  Hypocrisy, for he had yet to walk this Path.

  Soon.

  “Second, and simplest, I have not the means to grant you a [Bloodline]. Third, to speak of cultivation manuals - [Body Refinement] and on - the disciples will hold a suitable technique for each of the Paths they tread. Work has begun on this already, led by Aarushi’s efforts,” he finished.

  Anfang scratched her chin. “The fourth? This [Intent] and the sharing of [Dao]? Or do these fall under the first? Tempering by way of expanding talents.”

  The fourth point was not delivered truthfully. “Embodiment of ghosts. The fourth is the certainty of [Prowess]. Of swiftness, lethality and invisibility. We must ensure the disciples’ talents align with spectres no matter their Path.”

  He did not say [Consteltion Seeds], nor reveal any unrealized strategies concerning the March of Serpents.

  “We’re all to accomplish this?” she scowled.

  “Does this trouble you?”

  “If we’re all at such a standard, then my merit will go unnoticed. Old man, I swear, if I am unfairly eclipsed…”

  Fu blinded her with a ring of [Mist Q, well pleased with the shape even a simple breath could create. “Lift your [Intent]. We go again.”

  The youth scowled further. “More [Asura] than Father then. Bah, fine.”

  “Disciple Wu. That is twice. To what are you referring?”

  For once, Anfang’s confidence shook. “Merely a title whispered among the Wayward Winds-” she quieted. “The [Intent], senior, it- might I ask for further wisdom?”

  Fatherly [Asura]? An insult perhaps, though… it would be improper to not address this. Sister?

  Shuidi struck.

  Anfang yelped.