Fatherly Asura

[Resilience] and [Might] reigned across all varieties.

They towered, akin to a [Spirit Beast] of stellar [Spirituality]. And yet few rose above [Core Formation Grade], despite such strength.

More curiosities presented in their [Heritage].

Age.

For all possessed a lifespan that rivalled the most long-lived of cultivators, and this was no facet of their own cultivation.

But that of a peerless treasure.

A mountain beneath this mountain, engraved with such [Profundity] that the [Cherry River Monk] inspected it for nineteen days and nineteen nights to ensure it was not a grand illusion of the Heavens.

And at her emergence, she saw that but four minutes had passed.

“Chasms of Ancient Solace,” a collaborative study by the Cherry River.

A [Trial] of antidotes, of which poison needed to be curated from a jungle of hostile herbs and [Spirit Beasts].

Zhu reaped a realm of [Lunar Qi], and returned with two fingers blackened by frost’s bite.

Those of [Foundation Grade] were yet to be read on. Scores of his disciples, thrown against them - rotated and rested - so that their pillaging of Imperial lands went unceasing.

There came a second realm of [Poison Abundance]. A second realm of [Sun Qi]. Pinxui’s wording had them as immunity realms, for she above all others knew the talents of the Cloud Gathering division’s members.

Dangers nullified by the [Hundred Immunities Fruit] and Zhu’s [Three Celestial Kite], cycling and fickle as the lattermost was.

Could another one be claimed today?

Within his brimming vaults, Fu waxed his wisdoms. His musings and sayings. Thus shook, for all had heard of mantises and cicadas.

“Our Wayward Winds must remain focused, despite this haste. To rush is no triumph when the Path ahead is endless,” he shared, approving as Hushi impressed images of a stalking oriole. “These realms are plenty.”

Three days had firmed this notion, for three days had it taken for the first [Mystic Realm] to sever.

And something more.

A chilling peculiarity had appeared upon his [Ink]. The pastel teal stain that spread far from chest to arm, now altered where the white of his Clouded Court’s [Boon] was displayed. Some fresh concern best reserved for Zhu’s presence, as he still walked in these aforementioned realms.

Fu looked once at the change upon his physical form, and heaved a great cloud from his now-familiar pipe.

Routine. Administration. Logistics. Training. More. The Heavens would not give him a chance to grow complacent, and for this he gave his silent thanks.

Hours passed. Fruit blossomed.

Pinxiu’s [Spirit Ants] were a frenzy about her quarters. A storm of scrolls and [Force Qi], to say nothing for their myriad legs.

“None hobble your personality, brother,” accused Anfang, dangling from eaves so that she did not interrupt the Scholarly Head’s progress.

Su Sai scowled, retreating a step.

Light flared to bring the [True Orchid Path] into view. A constellation about them, coloured for the Marches represented therein. To Fu, it seemed a lesser comparison to Grandmother Hua’s affectation of [Dao].

Those present made haste to clear the site, and Pinxui’s storm ended centrally. Hands, a-splay, and tongue readied.

“Juniors, share our findings so that no question goes unanswered,” she commanded, driving a dozen disciples to proffer twice as many documents.

Fu’s swollen collection was largest, and vanished at his will. “Disciples Zhu, Udvah and Head Aarushi are absent, Head Wen. I should not ask, but are these documents sufficient to inform them of our progress?”

“You doubt me?” she snapped, to which Anfang barked a laugh. “Ah, senior, that is- Ten thousand apologies. Current affairs overtake my eyes, and- there is no excuse.”

“Peace, Pinxui. Share without restraint,” said Fu.

Action superceded words, for the [Spirit Ants] thrummed motion into the [True Orchid Path]. A shift that brought the current March of Yellow into focus, hemmed only by minor glances into that of Red.

[Sixth Under Heaven’s] domain bore a semblance of roots. Perhaps of bamboo, of which its expansive reach all beneath Heaven were familiar. Orchid was its canopy, and Red its base. Wider there than the vaunted peak where the Emperor of [Spring] held his throne.

Pinxui’s Qi ate the stars.

“Without preamble, the March of Serpents begins. Closure of the initial marker [Imperial Realms] has succeeded with minimal difficulties, as relayed in the reports just offered; note now that the troubles faced are of injury and not of discovery, lying predominantly in the [Foundation Grade] reams that our fledgling disciples tread.”

Characters rose amidst the group, titles for each [Imperial Realm] of note.

The first star, ten leaps into the boundary of orange - vanished. Then a second some forty leaps distant. Reminiscent by Fu’s readings and association, until the third.

[Imperial Realm 10,426], of the coalition’s involvement.

A fourth turned absent, continuing, and only at the twelfth did Pinxiu’s voice rise. “Under such swift circumstances and with sparse history to compare the speed of severance for each independent realm, it should be noted that those with lower ambient Qi and the often aligned, lower [Grade] realms are first to vanish. Over these three days since the March of Serpent’s inception, a total of twenty two [Imperial Realms] have had their [Trials] concluded.”

Twenty two.

“This has been stated, and should be committed to memory. The expectation of remaining severances beyond the twelve completed at this moment are illustrated as follows,” she said, and the [True Orchid Path] darkened at her will.

No quilt, the connections were not arrayed as such. Straight lines did not comprise its links, and the minorly ordered connections between each represented realm rarely numbered more than a handful.

Thus the darkening showed corners. Centers. Peripheral absence. A precursor to what the blind might see should they stare long enough.

Three days could not complete a March. But thirty, or three [Seasons]...

“What predication have you for when this Western coalition finally fails?” asked Sai, scowling at the myriad absences. “Shouldn’t the Wayward Winds guide, it sits poorly that these distant Sects could be associated with our course.”

“It’s of benefit,” shared Anfang.

“That others stir trouble? When their actions bring rain upon them, more scrutiny will be placed upon the [Reliquaries]. A better Sect should be chosen,” he said.

Papers emerged in Anfang’s hand. “Though dry, even I completed the reading. Apologies, Pinxui.”

The scholarly head’s attention was elsewhere, receiving whispers from her nearby juniors.

“Victory comes when an enemy is challenged and you stand unbloodied. To set fires with the Western Bone Cult and Earth Tyrant Hall- gah. I’d have sought the talented. Then, their longevity might be assured.”

Shuidi felt a rare resonance with the man’s words, impressing such to Fu. But for the senior’s part, his fixation was on stars. The [True Orchid Path] did vast an injustice, so found his finger as it traced the unfathomable links.

“No act can be louder than this,” Fu said. “We cannot mask the severance of an [Imperial Realm], only that which might connect it to us. Do not foster attachment to the Western coalition, Sai, they are simply stones, cast to muddy the waters. The Wayward Winds know well where to find more.”

Sai’s serpent shuddered as he allowed a smile. A dark thing, and content. “Truly? I’d dwelled on the solution that I might induct them. The [Precursor Spirit Beasts] they hold are storied, and their [Resilience] is of interest to me. A boon to the Wayward Winds should their techniques… fall into our possession.”

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“Should they survive until the March of Serpents is complete then we will have won steadfast allies. If not, our own disciples are tasked with the retrieval of their knowledge. So this stands for any that further our interests,” said Fu, moving to clasp one of the illusory stars. “Here, Pinxiu. I have chosen. If you would.”

🀦

One of Green might have served better, though that was a dangerous depth to tread.

Here, they had stolen through yellow-lined avenues, and by pagodas a-breeze with numerous ribbons of the same hue. Travel between the myriad realms had simmered the passion of novelty where these different locales were concerned, and as such Fu’s wonder fell into a more muted sort of interest.

Chiefly that this was an [Imperial Realm], and no more.

The servers did not ask for ‘nourishment’, nor ‘flavour’, he was served a meal of Yellow. One complete with all the Qi-suppressing ingredients that those of their ilk might enjoy. A poison, and of no trouble to Fu.

Perhaps this is why Zhu looked on with disgust, decanting his own wine as they allowed the world of Imperials to move by.

A fresh band pulsed upon his wrist. The resonance in Qi quite similar to that of his brooch, if unconnected. Fresh equipment that soon his entire Wayward Winds would wear.

“Another,” he said, having Zhu refocus. “The twenty first.”

The thousands in surrounding avenues increased their pace, though neither ghost could hear what order demanded it. This balcony had [Silence Arrays] to block noise both outwith and within, as did Shuidi’s low-slung mist add extra layers of protection.

Peace.

They watched as the procession of cultivators became a stampede. [Spirit Beasts] in frenzy, and robes like that of a passing sea.

“[Sixth Under Heaven] takes this threat seriously, no?” Fu suggested. “That they fly to the eastern [Paifang] has me wonder which of the bordering [Imperial Realms] they will support first.”

Zhu refilled Tanshuai’s saucer. “A question for scholars. I see no reason to add our own observations when the outcome is obvious. As much as it pains me, let’s not delay.”

Several arms rolled back Fu’s sleeve. The [Ink], exposed. “The [Mantra of Heavenly Plums] blocks your own from sight.”

“It can be read elsewhere.”

[Ink].

A list of characters rolled forth, as it no doubt did for Zhu. Though as ever none there could see the other’s.