Fatherly Asura

The [Empress Above All] allowed it.

And for reasons beyond the ken of we, the massed ignorant.

None yet live from that time that could not recall the [Summer] of Sorrow. It has become a measure, in some circles.

A stripe of merit.

A seal of vintage.

Ask any of the [Origin Realm] infants. For that is what they were. Children. Suckling at the Qi, the teat of [Foundation] or [Formation] like newborn babes.

Ask, “When the adversary strolled through her dominion, where were you?”

Yet, more apt - “When the Heavenly Qi wept, how did you still stand?”

How would they reply?

This daoist will recount his own tale, as the fates conspired to deliver him within ten thousand li of her palace.

A scene played. A tale of four [Seasons] within one moment, countered by the adversary that none but the Empress had known to be her equal.

Skies split. Oceans roiled. The land itself, in flux and in contested allegiance, skewed neither to each side. And this daoist wept with the Qi, overcome in sorrow, ecstasy, grief, and joy.

As all who were asked might respond, if they hold truth to be righteous.

The last and only march of the [True Golden Demon]. Heaven’s equal, and by this account, the [Empress Above All’s].

Yes, this daoist recalls it well. How, at his distance, the Qi spoke first. Its hum in his ears, clear enough in wordless message that transcription could do it no justice.

Thus, reader, know only that the Heavens shed their own tears.

At the jian in the Empress’ heart, and the qiang in the Demon’s gut. Its favoured children, slain through fratricide.

And so moved were they, so brought to despair, that they declared-

No.

Forbade any remnant to be found.

- “The Clear Sky Empire,” by Lord Seventy Fifth.

“Mock disciple, eh? You’d be best to rid yourself of that status, else it impede your new duties,” advised the old crone. “Yes. Really, disciple Gao Fu, it is shameful that one so young has accrued this debt. The Clouded Court Squads abhor the type of debauchery that’s no doubt led you to this.”

Fu thought better of correcting the old woman’s view of him, and held back his tongue. If he were to ask questions at all, his first thoughts would go to the titanic spear that loomed overhead.

Still, no such opportunity availed itself to him. His ears were filled instead with notes of routine, etiquette, and expectation.

“Modest accommodation, but deserving of your station. Initiate, or disciple, these are interchangeable,” she continued, stopping at a non-descript door at the end of their current corridor. “Stow your belongings, and make yourself presentable. As antithetical as it is, you will not disgrace these halls with the bearings of a vagrant. No.”

There came a pause wherein Fu could only bow, too overcome with thought to notice his que to leave.

“Promptly, Gao Fu,” she chided.

Well forged in the fires of matriarchal disappointment, Fu made into the room with haste for fear of a verbal barrage. And after a series of heartbeats, allowed a deep exhalation.

Antithetical? A word I have yet to learn.

When compared with his family’s lodgings back in the Divine Clouded Mountain one might say that the room was indeed modest. Yet Fu saw only the space between the base furnishings, and the amenities provided.

On the bed he found a new set of robes, adjacent to a wooden comb, knife, and basin. A single coin was aside these items, a faint emittance of [Fire Qi] heating his fingertips as he placed it within his palm.

Fu looked from basin to coin. “Hushi, what do you suppose this is for?” The octopus unfurled, taking the item for inspection. But returned it after gesturing to the robes. “That woman requested I be presentable,” he continued, brushing the faint shadow of hairs upon his jaw and cheek. “An aid to shaving? Am I to singe myself into cleanliness?”

He shrugged, and undressed, unsure what to do with his soiled robes. Given the approach of [Summer] he was not chilled to do so, and as he set to shearing the growth on his face Fu found the water more refreshing than bracing.

After stowing his belongings within a trunk at the foot of his bed, he left the room. Clean, for the first time in recent memory.

“Timely,” greeted the woman. “And my, it’s a handsome figure you cut in the Clouded Court’s uniform. What wonders a wash will do, yes? It’s as if you’ve ascended a [Realm].”

Fu pulled his douli on, ill-prepared for such a compliment. “You are kind to say so, senior.”

“Well mannered, too. That will serve you well. Now, let’s see if that will save you from the torment of interrupting your Master’s instruction.”

🀦

Fu chose once more to focus on the spear. A safer bet than meeting the eyes of what might now be counted as his comrades among the Clouded Court Squads.

Youths, he noticed at a glance, and no higher than [Foundation Realm]. A suspicion confirmed through observation.

And tirade.

“...you?” finished the instructor. But it was a cold delivery, bereft of raised voice or throbbing veins. “Well, disciple. Do you possess such self importance that you believe this disruption to be of greater value than the time of each initiate here?”

Before Fu might answer, the man swept around, pacing a length of the courtyard where all were assembled. An open-air sky well, enclosed by ornate, stone screens in place of walls.

Then he faced the crowd, twenty at a side for a total of four. Varied forms, kneeling amidst their [Spirit Beasts]. “See here, Initiates, what will not be tolerated. Such dysfunction is akin to rotted scales. A malignance to be severed from the body of our great serpent. But,” he snapped, feigning softness for what followed. “Is this not why you are here? For all I see is rot.”

Fu’s lecturer strode close to put him in shadow. His gaze, imperious. It was in those first seconds that the fisherman became aware of the [Spirit Serpent] at his cheek. Or the tongue of such, rasping to have his skin crawl.

As was only natural, Hushi tightened in his midden. A fear impressed.

“The [Dao Oath] saves none of you,” continued the man, resolute in his stance. “Comprehension of Qi suppression saves none of you. Only merit, and tenure. Which must be assured.”

A disturbance of Qi grew to fill the space, and the cultivator drew back by a single step. In full revelation of the scene unfolding there.

[Spirit Serpents], identical in onyx scale, surfaced from the air itself. A plague, numbering such that not one initiate was left untended. Each was a sleek creature, rising with an expansion of their hoods. Poised at the fore of Fu’s comrades.

Where they struck with no impunity.

Fu barked out in alarm as he felt a pair of fangs puncture his neck. A blur of motion, attributed to the serpent by sight alone. The pain came in a flash, and [Poison Qi] streamed into his veins. A different beast than what he had faced before.

His [Hundred Immunities Fruit] took the brunt of this… black venom, so coloured as an intrinsic understanding surfaced in their combat.

A weakening poison. Gradual, with a growth that will soon flourish.

What was worse than this knowing however, was his impotence against it. The senior here had no detectable Qi, yet his strength far transcended the [Formation Realm].

“As has been stated, Initiates, the Clouded Court is open to you. Our [Foundation] training, our techniques, our routine. Outwith the mandatory, the time is yours. Know that uniformity is enforced elsewhere, which only a base number of you will come to know,” continued the senior. “I say this now, as to join our ranks in full requires but a single task. One dependent on what comes hence.-”

Stolen from NovelFire, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Within him, the venom overcame much of Fu’s [Poison Resistance]. He felt it breaking as though it were a modest cloak against a snowstorm. A scant covering.

“-Upon the dawn of [Summer] this final process shall begin. All here are now gifted with the opportunity of motivation, for the Sunset Venom has now been imparted. In just shy of a [Season], it will claim your lives, cleansing the rot from our scales.” The senior drew a rounded, dandelion pill from his breast. Holding it aloft. “The Clouded Court will task you each with a single mission, whence completed, shall reward you with the antidote and instatement both.”

Propriety bade the initiates’ silence continue. But Fu saw then a pallid wave creep forth, not over all, though enough for skin to impress the thoughts of those gathered.

Fu’s [Unaligned Qi Suppression Art] spluttered out in turn, and- “Senior!” roared some fool to the left.

The source was a younger woman, an adolescent with striking resemblance to his Yuqi and Yuling. And she threw herself into prostration to deliver her words. “This lowly junior is of [Autumn], and the [Tyranny of Seasons]-”

In matching speed with the [Spirit Serpent’s] blow, their senior answered her call.

A death as swift as thunder. One to leave no aspersions whether she hovered between life and death. As she was enveloped in a roiling, onyx haze. Her skin sallowed, and thinned, appearing to drape over her bones in ill-fitting form beneath their senior’s heel.

“An example makes itself known, how cordial. Gratitude, disciple,” said the senior, never so much as inclining his head. “Seclusion is reserved for full members of the Clouded Court. To preach such inadequacies as the [Tyranny of Seasons] when you are untested, and to ply excuses- this will not do. It is an affront to hospitality, and will be treated as such. To know one’s station is paramount. Which is to say, none here but I possess one. Now. Why do you all kneel before me still? Is further motivation required?”

Suffice it to say the courtyard was soon emptied.

However, as Fu watched the last of the initiates flee to the safety of distant walkways, he was caught in a surfacing worry.