Fatherly Asura

Blackened sacraments are no method to [Demonic] strength.

One will not turn by alighting newborn babes in pitch nor consuming the innocence in their hearts.

Put notions of fable to the wind, and bid they stay there.

Our foe is no tale for maintaining order in your house, and those that disseminate such are no more friend than the blaggards we face.

Bloodis the foil to cultivators. Flesh consumed, Qi swallowed, [Dantian] refined.

To partake of the flesh of humans is heinous and abhorrent, met with the keenest of blades, and most righteous of furies. But it is no temptation for those who walk with the [Dao], who know the path to the Heavens.

Evil.

Wicked.

Villainy.

Names given, but ill understood.

For it is the man that practises the [Demonic] knowingly that embodies these terms, not the warrior that succumbs to rage in its presence. Not the fluid spilled and unwillingly imbibed, nor the corrosion of their passing, [Gu] soaked influence.

It is these we must be wary of. The traitors that reject nature for short-lived, aberrant power, and the tragedy that follows hence.

“On Gu,” - A Primer of the Western Demon Front

His eyes woke to the dead about him.

Bent, broken, decapitated, leaking - but a few states in the list that he might use to describe all he saw. Piles of three or four, lumped as mortarless bricks in a wall about his person, only a handful of strides beyond where he unfurled from his cultivation.

The scene over their tattered hanfu and mangled wounds, that which he saw upon standing, shared a similar sense of dread. Fu craned his head towards the pillar-drawn cords, and saw there how the balance had shifted.

How the glow of humanity dimmed.

The foreboding clash of weapons reached him, and the cries of fury that flew from each of his comrade’s lips. Queer in placement, if expected, for the sources rang from east and west, with pockets of rising pitch elsewhere.

“Hushi,” he said, drawing his chain. “Are you well?”

An eager affirmation returned from his chest where the octopus slung. Hushi tapped twice on his [Dantian] before returning to the douli, sharing his thoughts, and having Fu conjure the [Ink] that reflected their efforts.