Fatherly Asura

Another lesson in the haste of cultivators came not an hour later, leading to Fu and his compatriots separating, splitting into both separate directions and separate divisions.

A modest tour had shown them to a sparse barracks, a series of raised courtyards, and a length of wall where many ministerial offices held residence.

Now, he and two others were in the care of a scholarly woman, who was in the process of placing paper talismans upon their wrists. A prick of his own blood rolled down the center, freshly drawn, and an exchange of Qi was undertaken before its removal.

“Reveal your [Ink],” she spilled, her tone indicative of one who had repeated this exact moment thousands of times before. “Vice Officer Gan has this as law. Thus, shed any doubts you might hold.”

Holding no such doubts, Fu called upon the full splay of his [Ink].

Characters pushed out in their usual teal and gold, and the scholar before him was shown to be reading it. This had him shuffle a mite, realising how bare it laid him to have someone know his all. And perhaps, worse, to show no sign that it was particularly impressive.

“Focus on the sensation on your chest,” she continued, this time addressing all that stood with him. “Conjure it forward in the same way as you might your [Ink].”

Fu reached out with his senses, touching upon yet another foreign [Array] in his body. As he did, parchment unfurled, though grey in hue.