Fatherly Asura

The Wayward Wind’s vessel had grown much in seven [Seasons].

An archive to rival what once he had witnessed within [Green Blight Valley] lay catalogued between shelves. Myriad [Pills] had nigh ruptured the casings of their section, so plentiful were they, and their storage had long seeped into the archived [Dao Treasures], [Spiritual Herbs] and alchemical components aside them.

Bingbai made few comments in observation, and Guang seemed equally as disinterested. “As it has been explained of the [Spring] Empire, these treasures transcend no greater than Marches of Blue?”

“As you say, great master,” Pinxui bowed, threefold.

“Oh-ho, then what use are they?”

Fu did not fear this challenge, but held his expression firm. A counter to Shuidi, who clacked from his shoulder with an imperious gaze.

“In my reasoning?” she… assumed, knowing nothing of Bingbai’s forthrightness. “The merits are numerous, great master. In study of the Empire’s alchemical knowledge and in the formation of their foreign inscription work: through our efforts and with Senior Fu’s vast insights we have made much progress in their disruption. Indeed, the disciples of the Wayward Winds hold, if not sufficient knowledge to disrupt Imperial [Defensive Arrays], then at least a foundational understanding of their construction to better aid in their tasks.”

A slow nod came from Bingbai, and he-

“In alchemical research Medicinal Head Aarushi has disambiguated the process of imperial toxins, developing a preliminary technique through which to cleanse each [Pill] and substance infected: and with appropriate confidence yearns to perfect the process that treasures of a higher March might be converted for use. Furthermore…”

Sentences became paragraphs. Paragraphs became pages. A furor of [Spirit Ants] swarmed to Pinxui’s side between the first opinion and seventeenth, unveiling concise, papyrus reports that Bingbai was offered to read at his own leisure.

To Fu’s surprise, his Master chose now. In singular swipes Bingbai turned each scroll into the air, splayed its contents, and closed the supporting evidence to ask further questions.

“...imperial toxins circulated within their [Channels], and the efficacy of [Imperial Arts]...”

Pinxui countered.

“...tainting of the [Dao Treasures] towards pre-aligned aspects. Those greater are coloured by [Spring]. The growth of this as aligned to…”

Counter.

“...and the validity of it. Special mention is made of this within my own tome. The [Four Directions Tribulation Array] accounts not the addition of [Constitutions].”

Aghast for reasons that Fu had half-drifted from, Pinxui recoiled. “But great master, were your cautions not clear as limpid water? A thousand shames upon those that would disgrace your writings with unworthy eyes.”

Guang rose from a nestle some paces away, his mirth a violent tremor.

“Oh-ho, indeed,” mused Bingbai, vibrating with laughter. “But I’d ask your thoughts on the small humor within?”

Pinxui’s cheeks coloured. “The cipher played through the venerable [Stalks the Blue Moon’s] writings? Master, I might not speak on it for fear of embarrassment.”

“It was understood?” A nod granted his answer. “Oh-ho, few that read my collective works on [Special Constitutions] would have such insight. My gratitude, and my forgiveness,” he laughed.

Hushi, Shuidi, have we not read this tome? Our [Physique of Grey Spectres] is derived from his methods… yet I feel we have missed the trees within this forest.

Bingbai’s smile faded. “For all this, answer concisely.”

“For the Cloudy Serpent Sect, great master,” returned Pinxui, missing no beat.

Three days had passed since their departure from [Imperial Ream 777]. A small span, but of capital importance.

A return to numbers.

This moment would judge if Pinxui was to be fifth, or last.

“Disciple Gao Fu,” bid Bingbai, gesturing to leave. “Scholarly Head Wen.”

With quiet relief, Fu drew back the screen for his Master’s departure, giving chase in gentle steps until Bingbai’s prepared quarters were reached. Of little creative talent, the iconography of ink-blue suns had been styled by his disciples in homage, marking the wide screen before them.

Guang’s heft required a mighty gap, and again his disciples had turned their hand to this. A trivial task for diligent souls whose cultivation might bolster any task they might attempt.

Insufficient however, for Bingbai should be treated as no pauper.

Bingbai entered, taking rest at a laden, ornate desk. Five [Constellation Seeds] arranged along its length.

Fu came to kneel aside a waiting Zhu.

“Don’t forget the rowdiness I’ve come to favor in you, disciples. Recall, or perhaps, learn now, that personal disciples kneel not at the feet of their masters. Offer the respect I don’t crave in places of meeting, but no more. Know too, that none but an Elder deserves your knee upon stone. To expect otherwise is an insult to me.”

Naturally, Shuidi rose swiftest of them all.

Guang chuffed.

As he placed a lime-green pelt over his arm for inspection, Zhu granted his brother a steady look. “Five. I’d take that as an acceptable number.”

A brow quirked on Bingbai. “Oh-ho, acceptable. Hmm, answer me a question that this sojourn to foreign Empires might well have imparted. Might anyone learn our [Clouded Ghost Arts]?”

Any fool might hear the truth in his voice.

“No,” shook Zhu. “Your phrasing confirms this.”

“Not only phrasing I sense. An ascended [Dao Principle]. Internalized,” smiled Bingbai. “The [Dao of Truth] runs within you, or a fragment. Subdue it, Zhu, lest I lose my mystique.”

Tasked as they were neither disciple had traded more than passing words over these few days. To hear of Zhu’s progress in the [Dao] put a prideful smile on Fu’s face, though he had expected no less from his brother.

“No,” continued Fu. “Though myriad [Qi Suppression Arts] follow similar formations as the Clouded Court’s own, they pale in comparison. Of our first initiates, a talentless few could not have it inscribed upon their [Ink].”

“As you’ve seen. It’s a transcendent technique, bound by those greater than we. Myriad are the souls that might mirror its movement or weave their Qi as instructed. Yet its power is subject to a period of grace. True serpents needn’t fear it.”

Shuidi edged forward on Fu’s shoulder, impressing thoughts through his voice. “The [Dao Oath].”

“Oh-ho, yes. Admirable, disciple Shuidi. Poems might be waxed on loyalty or the measure of one’s worth. I’ll speak the truth. The [Clouded Ghost Arts] inscribe upon the [Ink] of those with receptiveness to our venerable Sect. In time, this potential translates into the virtues we seek in our disciples. Hah, simple isn’t it?”

Zhu had crossed the room, peering at the cloud-wrapped skies beyond Bingbai’s quarters. “The five reaped by my [Hollow Ivory Splinter]. By this metric they’d proved unworthy.”

“As you say,” smiled Bingbai, placing focus upon Fu. “The grandfatherly [Dao Oath] - said for I find its inclusion amusing - of Gao Fu, placed loyalty as a child to his own loyalty. ‘A nail to the finger’ or so I recall. Take pride in those who remain, for they breathe these Wayward Winds.”

A mirthful arm prodded within Fu’s douli. “Water flows by the shape of that about it. As a vessel and teacher, their failings are my own.”

Loud was the sigh from the window.

“Hmm. If you so feel this way I won’t counter it,” said Bingbai, withdrawing no less than a monument of compiled reports to land atop his desk. “ To division matters. Namely the route to chart forward. The Cloud Gathering division owes no primary responsibility in waging war, remaining intent on our true purpose. To this end, the Wayward Winds have prevailed. Thus we move to our secondary goals.”

Zhu sighed once more. “I’m pained to freely gift these [Constellation Seeds].”

“Just so, and yet it is our purpose. See the lethality of these Wayward Winds, then turn your imagination to those that face the sun. What honor might be won could your [Three Celestials Kite] be seen by all? Free standing as banner or totem, illuminating our worthy disciples?”

“An honor of questions,” suggested Zhu. “The cultivators whose names ring throughout the Jianghu would suffer from whispers of their talents. They- no, we’ve no part in that world so I can’t speak further on this truth.”

Fu seized the conversation. “Then our course, Master?”

“To establish connections with the Cloudy Serpent Sect.”

Charts appeared in Fu’s hand, though it was a certainty Bingbai already possessed copies of the same. “[Thrice Clouded Boa] is-”

A dimness fell across their Master’s face. “Disciples, this promotion welcomes with it a dry throat. But no good senior would drown you to quench it. Nourishment comes in droplets, not wells, and so I will say only this: We seek only the venerable [Gleeful Viper].”

“Because you support the Orthodox, Master?” queried Zhu.

“Droplets, disciple,” returned a warning tone. “Not wells. While you ruminate on this, I’d suggest a return to duty,” his laughter resumed. “Or to your quarters where fitting gifts might await such deserving juniors.”

“As you say,” came the shared nod.

🀧

The gifts were of an aspect aligned to his [Trial] of mere days ago. Items- treasures and herbs that held meaning and resonance with his Path in shared form.

Fu’s quarters had remained, despite offering this loftiest of spaces to his Master. And so the familiarity of spartan furnishings had gone unchanged, simply the contents atop his desk. A mirror of Bingbai’s, if mundane in carpentry.

Of first curiosity was a folded cloth, which Hushi’s touch revealed to hold a single golden needle within. An expansion of [Senses] revealed little save for an accumulation of Bingbai’s own Qi, unsuppressed.

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Aside it sparked a crystalline dish of liquid, seeming to contain the tumult of a great storm within. His hand hovered above, seeing the hairs there stand on end. Then it passed over more, One pair of cobalt-covered manuals, scribed with his own Master’s writings, and one without. [Pills] aside naming placards, those interestingly of [Constellation Impacting], [Glacial Shroud Essence Refinement] and the one of [Divine Sea Expansion].

He smiled at the final gift, tracing its edge. A douli of peerless craftsmanship, darker than a starless midnight.

Hushi exchanged the hats.

“I agree, brother,” nodded Fu. “If we are to wear one for the remainder of our days, there are far poorer choices.”

Already was Shuidi at the manuscripts, impatiently scrawling each character there. Fu soon followed along, though the [Spirit Crab’s] speed outstripped his own.

Gao Fu.

In moons to come I might have developed this [Physique of Grey Spectres] alongside you. A mark of pride, if buried beneath the inadequacies of ignorance. The quantities of pure Qi as transmuted by your [Hundred Immunities Fruit] and the necessary refinement materials eased your process, but no disciple of mine will hold as unrefined a [Constitution] as this.

Circulate the [Winter Stormbird’s Tears] after consuming the [Glacial Shroud Essence Refinement Pill], and my needle will remedy this.

For those [Pills] that remain, do so at leisure.

My honor and accumulation present in this pair, for both are the accumulation of my myriad [Seasons].

Choose but one star within your [Primordial Constellation Gate] and its grade of [Cultivation Realm] shall ascend.

The [Divine Sea Expansion Pill] is for safekeeping. A matter to speak on when either of my disciples complete their full gate.

Kang Jae was in seclusion. A fate shared by Yashodhara. But at this moment only the former held any bearing on his thoughts.

“Ever does a fool guess, and more so when the answer might be found one floor above our own. But an improvement to [Grade]...”

The Old One stirred. “Trust not to conjecture. Even plain, consider what else might be reaped from Immortal [Mystic Realms]. Naught between Heaven is created equal. And yet, if true, this disparity overrules what was once known.”

Shuidi neared the [Constellation Impacting Pills], three, that made for a full dose once swallowed together.

“Peace, sister. While eager, let us trust more in foundations,” smiled Fu, and so saying gathered all that would improve their [Physique of Grey Spectres].

He took the lotus position with his partners.

“Decisive, Gao Fu.”

“An unfired arrow holds few merits,” he said, ingesting the [Glacial Shroud Essence Refinement Pill].

From mouth to gullet to stomach it sank.

All three partners shivered against a force of cold. Some growing agitation that jostled their [Core] as if submerged in frozen waters.

In concert, they gasped.

Snow upon their second breath.

Fu struggled to rein in the mounting energy, for now it moved to saturate his [Channels] and flesh. Against reason, his limbs stiffened next, locking a palm atop his knee and his rear to the very floor he sat upon.

A grim frost clawed its way over his skin, never slowed against the circulation of [Air Qi] that Fu sent against it.

It crept upon his neck, rising, claiming next a chin, a mouth, nostrils and more, encasing the trio until it suddenly ceased upon his eyelids.

Our [Physique of Grey Spectres], I feel it. Made vulnerable by this rampant ice, if… if not spared from total subjugation.

Hushi confirmed the same.

Images rose of a vast shelf of ivory tone. An unceasing expanse as one might find in [Mystic Realms] of [Snow Qi], [Ice], or [Heat]. So too did a flume appear within it. A smoothened dimple where some great object might once have lay.

The [Winter Stormbird’s Tears] sparked in his periphery.

Fu’s eyes bled to gaze upon it.

Shuidi.

Of delicate touch his [Spirit Crab] called upon their [Pull], siphoning this liquid from its container. It flowed in a singular stream, encased by his most bloated attribute to penetrate the icy casings of their flesh.

Lightning expanded through his [Channels].

A fury of arcs that latticed throughout frozen flesh. He felt each jolt in vivid detail, for it painted a web in motion.

Moments passed.

Minutes, then hours.

This state held its pain in cold, and no fisherman would complain of so trivial a condition. Thus he endured, feeling it no worse than sodden robes against a [Winter’s] wind. Fu circulated these arcs until no space went unlit by their touch, and in a final breath, saw the ice trap them in their livened state.

Hushi returned the mental image, revealing a dimple cured.

A flume, filled.

[Air Qi] nudged Bingbai’s needle, pricking the tip of Fu’s finger. The delivered force propagated in one blink.

His Master’s Qi, laden with transformative gold. This wealth was akin to [Profundity] and a rival to any Sect Elder or True Imperial. It surged potential across the ice, and Fu’s heart trembled as much as ice might allow.

We cannot contain this.

True, lucid fear came to dominate him as readily as this change. To succumb to a force without movement, to be encased and sealed in place…

No.

These thoughts were not his own.

Vestiges of my [Dao]. I sense them. A resonance placed, for we are of motion and transformation. This is why a thought of stagnation infects me with such strength. The [Dao] test my resolve, to see if I am worthy of them.

So Fu breathed, soothing his heart.

The wind cannot fear itself. Thus I will you, change, come.

🀧

Water pooled beneath Fu, saturating the mat. Indeed, after a series of blinks through well-sensitive eyes he saw that much of his quarters shared this same fate.

A bucket spilled atop him. Through him, fabrics and all.

“Brother?” Fu blinked.

Zhu set the bucket down. “I’d thought you might appreciate the sentimentality.”

Dry, Fu retrieved Shuidi from the floor. With a second thought, he drew the vast mess of moisture into his palm, returning his quarters to a semblance of decency. “Three buckets, was it? You seem injected with chicken blood to pour so many.”

Perhaps unnoticeable to most, the impartial cultivator held a great deal of humor behind his plum-ringed eyes. “I saw an opportunity,” he half-smiled. “Pleasant nostalgia is a thing I’ve none but you to share it with. Pitiable, isn’t it?”

Tanshuai landed atop Hushi’s expectant arm, her mirth plain.

In place of words Fu crossed to an ornate window, through which a radiant [Summer’s] sun had the clouds seem ablaze. The cushions there welcomed his slightly tender frame, easing the burden as he withdrew a slender bottle from storage.

[Control] saved it from the floor, for the neck had readily passed through his flesh.

An improvement?

Fu continued despite this, solidifying his will against a sensation that threatened to deposit him some floors below. “Memories shared between brothers? Yes. I implore you to broaden your horizons. Assassins and ice-shrouded immortals in search of kinship are plentiful, go, seek them out.”

Zhu retrieved his saucers with false ceremony. “[Dances Upon an Ivory Sea] remains in your thoughts?”

“Her release prior to [Imperial Realm 777] was no clean break. I form a habit of this, including Kang Jae and Yashodhara here.”

The wine was poured, and Shuidi clacked graciously.

“[Karma] binds you to her,” offered Zhu. “If the Imperials of [Spring] don’t sever this tie, then those of the Clear Sky will. Her status is a curse, and few ascend [Core Formation] without a bloody trail in their wake. Hmm. Ivory Sea’s might fill oceans.”

Fu swirled his wine. “Even so.”

“You’ll recall that disciple of unfortunate brow, the [Spirit Gorilla] in Vajra skin.”

“Disciple Cho Eun-il? Her [Constellation Seed] was of peculiar note. The tongue, was it not?” Fu asked.

“A treasure to inflict parasites. Hideous in nature, as it is in practice.”

Hushi spread warmth through their [Spirit], remembering well the cruelties of [An Array in One Hand].

““[Tongue of Astral Dependency]. A vile one, yes. Know only that [Dances Upon an Ivory Sea] isn’t of concern,” Zhu continued, raising a hand to reject Fu’s further questions. “Your diligence is guessable. I’d rather gloat of progress upon the Path, and hear your own in turn.”

It was here the wine began to flow. An Imperial vintage finished firstmost, drained of toxins by Aarushi’s own hand. Then a procession through flavor. In the small talks between brothers came a pairing of sweetened notes, scented with ripest citrus.

For their joy of Bingbai’s return, a rich, herbal tincture.

Progress on the Martial Path proved short, and of such glaringly acerbic tones that Zhu nigh upended the bottle.

A call summoned tea for the [Dao], delivered swiftly and for Fu alone. More palatable, he had said, though his partners teased his propriety.

“Three,” he continued, enjoying the warmth of this cup. “The [Dao of the Ephemeral Cascade], ascended from my [Dao of Pooling Rain]. Duty has come first, and so this and my others are unconsolidated. My [Dao of Four Horizons], ascended from the [Dao of Wayward Breezes] and the [Dao of Coming Tribulations] from the [Dao of Plundered Breath]. This last, ah, the words escape me. But it seems a principle to strive for before regular use.”

Without anger, Zhu set down his saucer. “Three. My mere two inspire shame. I’d take now to lecture you on maintenance, for you’ve the bearing of an addled hermit with that whisker’s length. Have it trimmed.”

“Just so,” grinned Fu.

“Then to me, the [Dao of Confirmation] attained the [Dao of Truth], now internalized. As vexing as mentioned to Bingbai. I’ve a headache already, thinking of visits to populous settlements and the loathsome, empty platitudes we’ve to endure.”

“The second?”

“The [Dao of Scattered Light], ascended to the [Dao of Waking Dawn],” he answered. “And from it, the [Dao of Dusk’s Arrival].”

“Twice ascended?”

“An ascension split in twain. My Path demanded it, thus I made it so.” Here his plum-eyed brother rose, parting in demonstration. Not of these fresh [Dao], but in a keenness to display what his concept had wrought.

Truth, in all lights.

Shuidi blinked to her cultivator’s shoulder, eager for a better vantage. Her joy was genuine- prideful, as it should be for family.

They witnessed Zhu approach a lantern, his fingers atop its patterned sphere. Teal, as the disciples had thought… fitting. Yet of true consequence was the flare of hanfu, presenting Zhu’s left hand with a bead of [Light Qi].

His will drew the lantern’s brightness, leaving the [Fire Qi] he could not touch. A heartbeat later and Fu attempted to blink the blear from his eyes.

The bead in Zhu’s hand had shifted. A radiance of plum, now vanished in place of some darkened, muddy orb.

As did the shadows flock closer, drawn to his [Core].

“In all lights,” mused Fu, blurring to his side. An expansion of [Senses] probed at this change, sensing naught amiss but a sheen of sweat atop his brother’s brow. “This… this is your [Constellation Seed], no? The last withdrawal before our rescue of Master Bingbai.”

Tanshuai’s dance circled Fu, jubilant as Zhu’s smile spread. “Once the [Night-Soaked Breath], it became more. Our Master’s [Constellation Impacting Pill], you- Bah,” he shook. “I’d thought my indulgent ways had polluted you, no? Why choose the path of [Constitution] first?”

Fu’s look was arch. “Zhu.”

“The [Pill] ascends your treasure. This [Night-Soaked Breath] was a counter to elemental suppression. A [Boon] held to transmute [Dark Qi] as the [Hundred Immunities Fruit] does in your gate. It’s shed [Core Formation]. A [True Lord Realm] treasure that inverts my [Affinity] and that of each myriad talent I possess. The [Breath of Diurnal Sublimations].”

Within him, perhaps, his [Primordial Constellation Gate] yearned.

An ascended treasure. What my own become? The change is peerless- drastic and without measure.

Zhu returned to composure. “That slackened jaw is satisfaction enough. Hah, a rarity I’ll not soon forget. Now, let’s empty our reserves,” he said, producing two fresh bottles. “We’ve yet to pick your [Constellation Seed], no?”

“I’ve yet to study my [Ink], let alone lend my attention to this wonder as you have,” Fu said, stroking his whisker. “Although… no. Consolidation takes priority. The wine however, that is a blade I will fall on for you, brother.”

The saucers filled once more as Shuidi clacked in disappointment.