Fatherly Asura

A harsh Winter had clad itself over the surrounding rivers, calling a halt to the extortion and regular brigandry that granted my captors their vocation. Ushering a Season both of economic worry, and of great recording.

“Individual attributes?” I recall Second River Chieftain Jinglui stating.

“Individual attributes,” I recall replying.

Both he and his twin brother then fixed upon each other a look of consternation. A look, the reader should note, that I had become quite accustomed to.

“The [Ivory Spirit Tiger] and the [Ivory Spirit Jaguar] are as close as we,” declared Jinglui. “Down to the colour!”

“In look, perhaps,” I claimed boldly. “Large. Feline. Ivory. Yet distinct.”

Humorously, Jinglui’s brother was a dull fellow, and asked for clarification on the matter. Stating that their smell should have little bearing.

“A Tiger’s [Might] is shown in power, whereas the Jaguar’s [Might] is displayed in terms of speed. To the Heavens, their gifts are no more similar than a [Spirit Bull] and a [Spirit Snake]. While the values may remain the same, what can be manifested is of great variety.”

It is of great shame to this Scholar that I will admit to the addition of insult to my comments, which I have omitted from the passage for clarity.

Much to Jinglui’s ire.

Likewise I have omitted the violent recompense taken to return the brigand’s honor.

- “The Enlightened Bandit, a Memoir,” by Sixth River Chieftain, Gu Feiyang.

The Qi would move no further through Fu’s [Channels], as though it were inert, or defying the progress he might make in such limited time.

Spirals gathered, they wound, and jetted forwards. Fading into dissolution before any of the [Impurities] could be reached. He pulled back from his inwards glance, and not for the first time that hour, nor in these past three days.

The usual sheen of perspiration clung to him, dampening his hanfu, only adding to the layer of accumulated grime upon it. Reeking, and filthy, he supposed, much the same as his skin, or his hair. Though such matters seemed far outwith his troubles.

Fu finished his set of the [Stifling Set Revolutions], more out of habit than resolve, and came to rest his weight upon the wall. The Blight higher now in his periphery.

“Hushi,” he struggled, a layer of flem within his throat. An addition to the recent, feverish chill upon his skin. “Are you well?”

His Bond descended, perhaps, less vibrant in his teal than he had come to know, and slung himself around Fu’s neck. Faintly, Fu pressed upon the wall, shaking his head as the sun set on the [Mystic Realm]. The rıghtful source is novel⟡fire.net

Later now, that [Summer] approached.

The stone below his dirt-crusted fingertips was… solid. Resolute. Granting a small comfort to him, and a point on which to hold. So he exhaled, burrowing his skin against it. There were no imperfections here, and it would stand up to its task.

Knowing this steadied him. Allowed him to stand but a mite straighter, settling some small modicum of the occasional shudders that set his hands to tremble.

“Disciple Gao Fu,” warned a familiar voice, and Fu shook himself from the rising thoughts that were intent on stealing his focus.

Chao marched to a stop some five paces from him, formal in stance. Thus the fisherman bowed, and held it there.

“Another will take up your posting this night,” he continued, and behind, a figure was busy attaching himself to the Qi-infused rope. “You are granted an evening of free time.”

“Officer Chao?”

“Do not waste this opportunity.” Having dispensed this order, Chao moved off.

The night is my own? Why?

Fu rose, and righted himself by grasping the wall once more. Drawn to its solidity.

Surely he had done nothing of note to deserve such a gift? In truth, he could not say. Wondering only if his words before the Third Officer had held some greater impact than he knew.

Regardless, he moved towards the barracks. Passing the others in the Nineteenth [Winter] Brigade. His head low for fear of drawing their ire.

Fu expected jeers or mutterings, and strangely, found none. Instead…

No.

The weariness his sudden fever impressed played tricks with his eyes. Or the striking light of the setting sun had shadows leap to form expressions upon those he passed.

For he spied a nod, or a smile.

A muted clasping of hands before his comra-

Before the Brigade members leapt from the Bastion’s walls.

Fu urged Hushi to pull down the brim of his douli, this time to mask any misunderstandings that might arise as he walked.

To stand out, the mere thought inspired his heart to thunder. Evoking the image of the War Minister, or what had transpired in his presence. Survival would only come to those who escaped notice, and his children would on-

“Disciple Gao Fu,” he heard, called by another for the second time.

A great chill intensified upon his skin, searing against his hanfu. Fu went low before Third Officer Zhiyuan despite it.

“Stand with me,” she ordered.

“I am unworthy to do so.”

“Stand.”

And he did.

“Tell me, Gao Fu. Who were you before the [Green Blight Valley]? I would know this.”

Fu had taken his place to her side, three strides between them. Altogether too close. “Nothing more than a simple fisherman, senior. As I remain.”

The emerald within her eyes blazed, emotive and inscrutable. Already, did Fu regret meeting them. “Yet you have ties to the world above mortals. Speak on this. A mother? Sister, or brother?”

“My… the mother to my children, senior. She was a cultivator.”

“My condolences, Gao Fu. The Heavens do not favour any, despite the ties that might bind husband and wife,” she said. A fine margin of sympathy touching her face.

“We were not married, senior. It is as you say. The Heavens did not bind us as [Dao Partners], and she… passed in childbirth.”

His pain must have proved of great interest, for Third Officer Zhiyuan inched around. Urging Fu’s spirit to will him to bury himself in the wall just to escape her attention.

He shuffled as she spoke, struggling to remain proper. “It is an undertaking not done lightly, bearing children. A more involved process than the… simple mathematics of mortals. That your woman endured this knowingly. Well, I will indulge my curiosity no longer.” She then revealed a small pouch, placing it upon the wall. “There are eyes upon you, Gao Fu, and the gratitude I feel must be tempered by this. You granted me insight into the [Dao] in a mere moment, where I have toiled for years. Understand that this is unheard of.”

“I understand, senior.”

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Zhiyuan arched her brow. “Either fishermen possess a greater understanding of Sect politics and [Dao Principles] than many, or you agree with me simply for the sake of it.”

The needles of cold upon Fu intensified as he was caught short. “Forgive me. It is a short time that-”

“You are unadjusted. Previous peers were lackeys and craftsmen. Yet to gain a grasp on how and when to speak. Yes, this was said before, and by many,” she said, an edge to her voice. “None made it far along their paths. As a member of my Nineteenth, you will rectify this. Promptly. As you have with your [Prowess]. Potential stands behind your excuses, Gao Fu, and a promise of more to follow.”

Fu became drenched in cold. Deaf to her meaning.

“At the [Foundation Realm] you have shown competency enough to not be of hindrance. Have your chest swell. Raise your head. In my eyes, and not spurred on by gratitude, you are worthy of investment. To that end,” she said, gesturing to the pouch. “Receive my thanks.”

When he did not move, she placed it within his hands.

“Gratitude, senior,” he managed. His fever was such that the words trembled out, his head, dizzied.

“The Scroll Hall is open to you now. An extension of time that will last until next you are called for duty. May you come across good fortune, Gao Fu.” Zhiyuan planted her gun then, striding up its side to disappear over the wall.

Out of sight, at last.

🀦

As Fu lacked the energy required to interrupt the Head Librarian’s duties, the [Dao of Silence] was not again imposed. With an aide at his back, proper and distant, he had stolen towards the stacks containing the [Wind Phantom Strides].

The combination of an unfocused vision and the onset of frailty having him merely sit, scrolls upon his lap, with little other purpose.

A gong sounding for the third time.

Hushi was similarly deflated, nestled in the crook where his waist bent. Arms curled around the mouth of Zhiyuan’s pouch.

It had been opened somewhere between the first and second gongs, ajar now, to show the strange stalk within. A [Spirit Herb], rolled and lilac, with a look of cinnamon. Though neither of the pair had dealt further with it than a glance.

Rest was needed to recover from what ailed them, and in truth, Fu would have it replaced with [Winter] fish stew in a heartbeat. His skin begged for a blanket to wrap it tight, and for the warmth of a home-cooked meal.

Longing for the scent it might waft around his boat.

Or the laughter of his children.

It was all so distant. Far enough that he feared it might fade from memory. None of what he longed for were here. But even still, Fu could not muster the energy to move. He felt encased in his own body, sapped of all resolve.

The aide no doubt looked upon him with disgust, somewhere beyond the brim of his douli now shunted uncomfortably down across his face.

Another gong sounded, and Fu still sat, numb upon the floor. Yet his [Dantian] had grown unsettled in this time, now churning within him. An ever tightening knot, fashioned of stone. Growing each minute until it felt as though it might snap.

With an immense force of will, he sat higher, propping his leaden body against the adjacent stack. Noticing then, the faint burning from his [Contribution Array]. Which Fu called forth, if only to lessen his discomfort.