Fatherly Asura

“Hold,” barked the order.

With [Lesser Rejuvenation Pill] in hand, I could not understand.

The cultivator before me was ailing.

Stomach, spilled.

“I had thought-”

Broad of shoulder, the Fist of Nine Sect’s disciple tore me back several paces. Her [Senses] expanded over me, harshly. “Put in your eyes, scholar. What talent of late [Core Formation] bleeds like this?”

Ink is wet enough for my sensibilities, and no Martial Path was my own. Thus I had placed no scrutiny on the injured man.

But she had me stare.

Crimson pooled.

Intestines protruded, sodden amidst fractured bone.

One yellow eye blinked amidst it.

“[Yakshi],” she growled.

Some distortion of mirth chuckled out of it. Not from blood-stain lips, but from the torn-wide cavity.

From the maws within, three, to mirror its eyes.

I recall stumbling, and the [Yakshi] oozed forth as liquid flesh before my savior’s [Dao] eradicated all.

“Not even the sanctity of corpses is preserved,” I gasped. “By the Heavens. Venerable cultivator, my profound…”

Already was she upon another corpse, and I, swiftly running to the safety of the Black Ribbon Graves.

“Diversity of [Demonic] Attributes,” conversations with [Dour Faced Strategist]

What remnants had stood of the previous battlefields were as dust. A graveyard of Warships adrift and temples, now long buried in dunes and canyons.

Mridul’s impossibility made it so.

The vacant air beneath all that floated held a ground now, a desert suspended above water and void.

Still, he advanced.

Jian tearing through a metal of unknown composition. His slashes poured light across the inner confines, a tortoise’s shell of nigh-peerless density within which the ghosts were harboured. Sand spilled through the crevices, racing to engulf this pair before they might further vex-

The [Heartplume’s Mockery] moved as lightning through a pin’s head, passing, and emerging through Mridul’s chest to have his breath exhale.

“An end will come to this, cultivators. My Empire’s wealth is squandered fruitlessly here, relent, and allow the honor of returning such treasures to those that require them.”

Zhu arched a brow mid-whisper, and yet, his [Dao of Confirmation] continued. “...enlighten, [Dao of Confirmation],” he finished. “The wind embraces you, for you are its equal.”

Cool power washed through Fu’s [Channels], mingling with the suffusion of Qi that [Half Cloud Step] already granted. And around him, the world slowed.

Affecting his [Mist Qi], Fu became a driving plume that gave chase to his [Mockery]. A gust that met Mridul where the [Spiritual] attack had drawn a minor breath, marrying sand and fog.

He coalesced, seeing that his palm had flown through an empty expanse in the Imperial’s chest.

“We share a [Constitution], in principle,” Mridul noted. “Yet your own is fresh. In time you might have refined it.”

Then Fu was grasped, restrained as one might a young cub. His scruff lifted by a sudden blanket of sand.

Mists flew in response.

A gentle caress on the Imperial’s cheek, proving [Water Qi] to be ineffectual despite its suppressive nature. For not a droplet reached Mridul, nor a single blackened stain of dampness as it would in other circumstance.

“A purity of Qi. Another of your realm would fall to this, or perhaps a fellow Imperial of higher standing. The strength contained within is too scattered, cultivator of Clear Skies. Consider each wisp as the driving force, not the exterior edges that you use to move it.”

Fu could not smile, restrained as he was, but moved his brow minorly. “Gratitude, venerable Sun [Demon],” he struggled, never ceasing his mists. “You speak as a teacher. An instructor of Repositories, I might think. Your kindness has prolonged our lives.”

“Your vocation places scrutiny on such compliments. But please, it is a small thing. A platitude, for it is advice never to be actioned.”

The Imperial’s lips… did they quirk? Did they thin in amusement?

Sand clogged Fu’s windpipe, and conversation held no merit in so lethal a position, but… yes, He had spied a glimmer of weakness.

“No teacher,” Fu struggled.

With thunderous arrival, a cascade rushed through Zhu’s defensive treasure. The [Spirit Whale] in all her titanic form eviscerated his tortoise’s shell with a force of uncountable grains. They rose thereafter, encasing Zhu in the same bindings as his brother.

Mridul nodded once in contentment. “All Paths and the men that walk it hold interest to me, cultivators. If only we might speak as equals. Sadly, I must steer these pleasantries into talks more befitting our status.”

“We’ve a long road until the Emperor’s realm,” suggested Zhu. “If you’ve conversation, or wine to ease this journey, I’d go quietly.”

“Well-honed as these outward faces, Clear Sky cultivators. Such expressions suggest that you would indeed betray your Empire for a single bottle,” said Mridul, glancing to Fu. “And your own, Fatherly [Asura], suggests that to be common. No. But you attempt to hold me in some machination, as shown by your reckless leap towards me.”

Zhu looked to Tanshuai, if only out of concern for her sand-wrapped wings.

“A feint,” Mridul followed. “No. It would no be slight. Those who corrupt our Imperial Realms would no thing to chance. Your trap is a grand orchestration.”

“But you stall,” said Zhu.

“Willing capture is questionable, and I do not believe either of you fools. Diligence is meeting this trap before it might harm those I return to.”

“A [Dao Partner]? A mortal husband or wife?”

Fu followed Zhu’s statement, seeing Mridul’s lips quirk once more. “Your family.”

“The same,” this Imperial said, looking fondly to Samudra’s circling form. “But, enough. It is far from proper-”

Mridul winced.

No, more than this, Mridul’s hand found his brow. “The trap,” he muttered. “Another realm of [Spring] is severed. And yet… and yet I am not your target. Our meeting was happenstance, intervened by [Karma].”

The sands about each ghost tightened like a vice.

This Sun [Demon’s] glare rose, and its intensity explained well why his title had been given. “Name your reasons. Speak them now. Why have you entered this realm?”

“Peace, Sun [Demon], said Zhu. “This bout is over.”

If Mridul was to strike him, the blow did not land. In place was a melancholy wail and a trembling of sands.

Samudra’s very being quivered. Her great tail-fin, spasmodic. A thrashing neck and altered course that reflected well on Mridul’s suddenly clenched jaw.

“This bout is over?” the Imperial began, unable to end. For this nigh-immortal cultivator spluttered, and bloody foam spurted from his tightened lips. “How?” he frothed, descending as his Qi became unable to sustain a hold within the skies.

“Our disciples are diligent,” said Zhu, unshackling the sounds by his throat.

There came a great and sudden gust.

Sand cascaded, not of Mridul’s control.

[Half Cloud Step].

Fu drove Mridul to the closest deck before he plummeted through plank and faded inscription, landing as Samudra roiled a storm of granulated agony.

Green surfaced on the ghost’s palm, ablaze in heatless flame. [Origin Qi] that travelled through the grip upon his foe to sink deep into flesh and [Core]. Will surged it further. Shuidi’s precise control.

The gust arrived again, harsher.

“Brother,” said Zhu. “The skies.”

Heedless of anything but the task beneath him, Fu’s [Origin Qi] surged. Like smooth rivers, he followed the path within Mridul. To [Meridians], which he saturated in poison, and to [Nodes] wherein he and Samudra’s deepest connection lay.

Onwards, his poison washed it all.

Mridul’s response was fitful, bloody, and feeble. As would all those of Imperial [Spring] become.

For the Wayward Winds had severed their final realm.

The March of Serpents had come, and the [True Orchid Path]...

“Brother,” came Zhu once more.

Urgent enough that Fu’s focus shifted to the Heavens.

At first he thought the scene one of spiders and webs. Fractured ceramic, as if a bowl had shattered upon hardened floor- so vast were the intersecting lines.

Love this novel? Read it on NovelFire to ensure the author gets credit.

I underestimated the scale. This… this is a wonder.

But as Fu’s mouth grew further ajar he found greater truth. For above, oscillating and vanishing across the sky’s entirety there wisped a weave of roots. A system of Heaven-hewn fibers that spanned all spaces.

All [Imperial Realms].

He bore witness to its burning.

At truest north there stood an almighty trunk, hued in orchid as he had seen but once before. A [Spirit Bamboo], an Emperor among growth and [Spring]. Itself, a beacon more resplendent than ten thousand suns.

Now waning.

Zhu tilted his brother’s jaw so he might see more than just this.

For the Heavens shone with each star these celestial roots touched. Each [Imperial Realm] in its myriad count. Fu saw them overlaid or distant, shown in a firmament that could not be seen without such brutality to the [True Orchid Path].

Constellations that suddenly vanished.

Instinct returned as Mridul’s jian tore into his shoulder, sand-coated so it might injure and bleed.

Yet [Half Cloud Step] could not catch him as Samudra blasted between them. A misshapen torrent that battered her cultivator from the edge of this broken Warship and into the endless void below.

Fu ground his teeth, his arm already limp. “The [Origin Qi] sealed but half.”

“It’s forgivable.”

“An Imperial roams free, our faces known and our [Karma] deepened,” he shook, allowing Shuidi to dispense her aid.

This wound will not recover swiftly. Aarushi’s talents are needed.

“Half. If he nears our cultivation a single blow will suffice. Rejoice in this, you miserable fool. See the blow struck,” warned Zhu, though his expression belied this tone.

Tanshuai came to rest on Fu’s douli. “Our March of Serpents. An effort long in the making,” he said, allowing the [Spirit Butterfly] a weary smile. “Master Bingbai should find it agreeable.”

🀦

Those of Castes below Blue suffered less than the truest Imperials. Lacking importance, talent or heritage had them escape much of Mridul’s suffering, for their spirits were less entwined by [Spring] and the benefits their Emperor granted.

Yet, they still fell.

Remnants of the Four Corners Coalition. Cherry River disciples. Scattered cultivators of the Clear Sky.

An advance of these forces laid waste not to the indomitable bullwark of [Spring] but to mewling babes, winnowed and weakened by impossibility.

Fu rode the devastation in their wake.

From Warship to temple he saw axes, embedded in the nape of [Spirit Beasts] - their motions ceased and expressions aghast. Disbelieving. Horror draped upon them, and to such an extent they could not perceive the coming qiang in their gut or bone-shattering fist.

The wound at Fu’s shoulder had long stopped bleeding, but troubled him greatly. A sickly sweat sullied his brow each time it lifted, denying any grip he might take on his chain.

Zhu’s hand fell, done plucking unseen strings. “Less. It’s a failure, but all I might say. The impact of severance has made these True Imperials less.”

WIth [Might] and movement the perches these ghosts stole to were mundane, if only in their regularity. A mast, a distant tower, the peak of structures. To dance among the clouds had become mere, and beyond plain observation Fu looked only ahead.

Ban Bingbai’s sun still reigned.

A light to guide, though [Divine Sense] told that the [Reliquary] of this realm lay further distant yet.

“Hushi and Shuidi are at odds with our next course,” Fu said, affixed ahead.

The [Spirit Crab] clacked, gesturing to the war that pushed deeper into Imperial territory. [Arrays] spent and Castes broken.

“That Sun [Demon’s] duty allowed our victory. Others of the [True Lord Realm] won’t share this compunction. If we’re to stake it all on a single throw, I’d use our full might.”

Fu stroked his whisker.

“Greed tempts, for nets are but string if unused. Hmm. Selfishly, this one would welcome it. Novel. A fresh sight.”

“Considerations. My expectation is that [Sixth Under Heaven] will flood this realm if there is any suspicion that we are here. Then, do we add oil to an already burning flame, or tend to the fire we know?”

A moment’s silence fell between them.

Something beyond the sun held Zhu’s focus now. Blocked by light for all but him. “Slight [Karmic] threads. He will know already. Mridul’s loss rings as a bell, I’m certain. An annoyance, certainly, but his reactions will not be swift after the severance. Now…” he nodded north. “Now the dangerous wind blows in our favor.”

Resonances passed through Fu’s brooch.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

He unfurled before the [Paifang] to meet vacant space. Absence in the shade of a great shrine, one adorned by a thousand unlit candles and marble stalks of bamboo. Then his own resonance pushed, and his Wayward Winds emerged.

A flicker brought the full number to knees before him. Masked aside their [Spirit Beasts] and douli upon their heads. This silent bow held as Udvah rose, grim and weary.

“Amituofo. This lacking daoist greets his senior,” he addressed.

“Our words might wait,” nodded Fu, marking each mended gash or faded bruise upon each of his juniors. “The task is known.”

Udvah imparted silent words in gesture. Four fingers raised on a bloodied hand.

Four disciples have fallen.

The Fatherly [Asura] masked his loss well, returning a question in this same silence.

Mangalam’s shallow nod granted the reply.

Their [Constellation Seeds] have been recovered. No total loss, but a blow nonetheless.

A trail of blackened fabric had Aarushi arrive at his side. “Senior Gao Fu. Forgive my presumption,” she bowed, imparting her [Life Qi] before the words had ceased. “This sixty-first rate disciple would mend this tear upon your robes.”

“Robes?” corrected Zhu. “Gao Fu suffered injuries dispatching a True Imperial. Your kindness sullies the feat.”

Had a murmur surfaced at such news Fu might have turned to disappointment. But silence held.

His lessons held.

“A thousand apologies, senior. These humble eyes fail,” said Aarushi, withdrawing eighteen points that her [Hundred Rhythms of the Golden Needle] had required.

Vitality pulsed through Fu’s injury, mending the flesh in as many heartbeats.

“Gratitude, Head Aarushi.” - So flew his final words, for his will had drawn an item forth. A bone and key, arduously heavy within his grasp.

Fu put his back to the disciples. This treasure, aloft.

Shuidi.

Subtle power welled between the [Spirit Crab’s] pincers. Uncoloured, unseen, and unquantifiable by all but a chosen few within the Jianghu.

Her will was met by Hushi in concert and they drove all they might grasp through the lens of their [Primordial Constellation Gate]. No more than a jolt or droplet, condensed and filtered.

Once through the [Hundred Immunities Fruit], and on, refined by the [Old One’s Whisker], shaped by the [Hollow Ivory Splinter] and enriched by the [Twin Mockeries Heartplume].

A single bead of [Primordial Qi] to enter this key, and split the realm asunder.

🀦