Fatherly Asura

A span of thirteen moons have passed since my capture now, just shy of a full year. [Seasons], I have found, pass swift in the heart of research.

Brother Jinglui continues to hound me, maintaining that he is close to the [Core Formation Realm], and that he is eager to impress upon another Bond.

I maintain that he is no closer than when I first arrived.

Such impatience shows how unready he is for such a leap, and I fear his temper will surface once more upon the decline of his [Push] and [Pull]. The hardest attribute, beyond [Insight], to quantify.

When unharmonious [Qi Affinities] collide, or when his [Season] further ingrains, I wonder on his reaction.

What might befall me when his first cultivation sessions shows [Pull] to be halved, or quartered, hampered by the inclusion of another soul tethered to his own? When [Push]-

Ah, I hear Jinglui now, and thus I will finish my scribing for the day with this, dear reader.

[Push], in truth, proves to be subjective. Bolstered by the value, yet subjective when-

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

The absurdity that four days had passed with what could be likened to regular happenstance was not lost on Fu.

A rise, and a clash, that then led to recuperation through cultivation.

Mere hours separated the space between this and near repetition of what an evening held in store. Bouts against the tide of [Spirit Beasts], whose ferocity only grew as [Spring’s] final days grew short, solidifying the Brigade’s belief on opportunity.

For finally, Fu had advanced in [Prowess].

He landed now upon a single foot. No small surge of pride within him. “Hushi,” he said, half a gasp in his voice. “The Qi- It responded, did it not?”

Hushi returned to his side, jetting, and seamlessly transitioned into his smaller form. An impression of contentment flowed across their link, confirming Fu’s thoughts.

“The Enlightened Bandit,” he said, thumbing his belt. “[Senses] relate to taste and sight, and so on. But also to Qi… sensitivity. The currents wound tighter this last step, I felt it in passing. To remember this form is the next step.”

And then, wearied as he was, Fu repeated the first steps of the [Wind Phantom Strides], again, chainless. Unperturbed by the rate at which he learned. For he knew that upon this boundless path to martial strength, a single step forward returned more than standing still.

So late in the [Season], night’s blanket came slow, and it was not until his comrades filed by that he deigned to return to the barracks. Bowing from habit, and then joining at the heels of those already in conversation.

He spied wounds and scrapes on those ahead. Shallow in nature. Of further note were the fraying edges upon their hanfu. Grime upon weapons. The slight heave of their chests as each step was taken.

Such sights drew Fu’s attention to his own slovenly, near beggared appearance. Though not enough to disrupt his admiration of these fellows.

Diligent. One and all. Should I remain to train for longer as they have? Push myself further?

Entry to the barracks ceased this notion.

Zhiyuan stood central, highlighted in a space where all bunks had been pushed aside. Ceremonial in garb, and with Bond enlarged. Enough to have Fu’s heart shudder.

The [Spirit Pangolin] was no longer of a size to hide within her robes, should she have worn them. Now it clad her as armour might before it was equipped, hunched upon two feet with stature enough to rise another head larger than its cultivator.

No longer a [Spirit Beast]. But a monster.

Fu found questions rising, held for another time. By one, the Nineteenth’s cultivators showed their deference before entering an arrangement before her, silent as they were addressed.

“The [Coiling Star Defensive Array] will activate before the next gong,” started Chao, pacing before the Third Officer. Shedding the humour Fu had come to know. “Thus there are but two instructions. Ready yourselves as is fitting of the Nineteenth, and strive to bring glory to our Brigade in the coming Placement tomorrow.”

A resounding chorus boomed through the barracks, and all but Fu and Xianyi bowed amidst this cry. It was flustering, to catch sight of his fellow Hopeful at the end of many dipped heads, and he quickly rectified this.

“Another [Season] has ended. Here, Nineteenth, reap your harvest.” Warmth spread across Fu’s [Contribution Array] then, a taste of this Qi shown too, on all his comrades as their eyes went distant. Checking the imitation of [Ink] as he now did.

Fu’s flickered to highlight a change.