Fatherly Asura

“The breath of your lungs is not the breath of others. Unless you wish it so.”

“[Origin Qi],” by Author Unknown

A drop of [Origin Qi] warned Fu that his [Core] was not yet ready for nourishment. Upon a ledge, radiant in sunlight, he drew harsh breaths.

Truly, he would cough blood could his [Constitution] allow.

Shuidi shared this strait.

How close we have come. Beyond that [Paifang], our Cloudy Serpent Sect and all they might promise.

Those at the realm’s gateway numbered thousands still, and what space stood between the glowing archway allowed for a clutch of dozens to turn their weapons upon it. A simplicity of view, to describe it as such, for much more occurred in this space than base thrusts.

But the crimson cloth emboldened Fu’s step.

The glint of serpent’s fangs, bleeding small strikes against these oppressors.

He set a call through his brooch.

Where are the peerless? The Yifei of our Sect?

His two selves swept into the tide, but only one held the fuming pipe. [Mist Qi] spewed through the thousands, drawing alarm and pressure upon his [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers] as myriad eyes searched for the blur that was surely not against their peak [Senses].

It gained idle steps.

Minor graduations from the [Paifang] that swept aside his fugue with no more than flicks of their wrist.

A fool would hold confidence in his blade here, believing it equal to pristine Imperials of Blue and the undamaged [Resilience] of their cultivation.

Brother.

The wind danced, returning Hushi to their side.

Whole.

Then as swift as their descent, these assassins rose in concert. Cloud carried their flight through the fragmented [Array], bounds and fleet motion to deliver them into the yawning expanse from which sunlight arrived.

Yifei would name him shameless.

An insult, had Fu any care for such things. Of the arriving figures about him, few would hold this view either.

“Report,” he called, poised upon an edge of brightened stone. What raged below drew one gaze, and his second viewed four serpents.

Platitudes were unwelcome with the Fatherly [Asura], and so Anfang’s words fell curt. “Seven True Imperials are slain. Mistress Yifei contends two, and the Lord of [Spirit Stags] holds the last at bay.”

“The [Spirit-Killing White Marsh Array] is half-distrupted. Eighty of the treasures maintaining its integrity have been removed,” voiced Rivaan. “Time will destabilise its field further, though the avenues to claim each source or [Array] flag are compromised within this Imperial tide.”

Tanshuai flapped a circuit about Fu’s second self, and her cultivator took its measure with evident curiosity. “Our cousins struggle at the [Paifang].”

“Amituofo. What else might be said?” came Udvah, grim in smile.

Fu stroked his whisker. “On our influence.”

“Poor. We’ve less impact than desired. Our confrontations are at the backs of Yifei’s marshalled beasts. Attrition will only maintain as long as her martial talent holds. Send any but you, Udvah or I against these Blues and we’d best prepare final rites.”

Anfang snorted. “You omit me.”

“Purposefully,” Zhu warned. “As tolerable as attitude and appearance make you, junior, my limit for fools is not endless. Offer wisdom or offer nothing.”

A small chuckle broke what tension might have come. “This lacking disciple holds thoughts, though if they are wise only the Heavens can say. Amituofo. Repetition is key, no? In place of beasts and tides, why not flood Serpents?”

“How?” quirked Anfang. “The [Paifang] can’t be touched, you’d be a daoist’s ribbon before ten paces were crossed.”

Fu spoke next. “My own plan was of this nature. To invite Bingbai’s wrath of Qi by exposing the [Paifang]. External [Qi Manipulation] diminishes across the boundary of realms, yet his strength is unmatched. A single blow might bleed the Imperial vanguard, having them succumb to the [Demonic] insects in turn.”

“Senior, I would voice my disagreement,” said the once meek Rivaan. “Consider that the sun-facing Sect would employ these methods were they effective. What occurs across the [Paifang] is unknown, even with the appearance of Sect disciples at the boundary. To stake our resources on a single, fallible throw is a waste.”

Something close to a content grunt escaped Zhu. “I’d second this. Bah, no, I’d advocate for a continuation of Yifei’s support. A withdrawal should she fall. No less and no more.”

Anfang’s [Spirit Spider] articulated her legs, impressing words that Hushi took liberty in translating.

“I have no qualms in expending the full spread of our armory. To speak in our Master’s stead, these Imperial treasures are meaningless when Sect lives might be preserved with their use. The problem arises when we consider that they enter blindly.”

“Amituofo, an [Array] does not discriminate,” considered Udvah. “Ho, the use of [Dao Treasures] is similarly fruitless.”

Of this gathering, only the personal disciples took this meaning.

Fu made note of his friend’s insight, for Udvah understood much of his Path if such a thing might be proposed.

He is no Long, and these days are far past.

Hushi agreed.

“Then brother, I suggest your plan of Serpents,” he said. “Voice it.”

🀦

The pipe puffed.

Zhu sat, meditating several hundred paces across the sun-bright chasm.

How many incense sticks might have reached their end?

One? A half?

Meaningless.

For Fu embraced only the wind in his thoughts, and his martial brother sought only to touch what light might benefit their course.

The [Imperial Cold Sea Crystallisation Pill] had long waned within him. Though he needed no external means to recall what he was to conjure. Its very breath was engraved in his spectral flesh, for all winds were.

Energy lapped about his second self, unseen aside Shuidi’s ruminating form.

Wind swirled.

Breath circulated.

A breeze lapped, and all these ribbons were coerced into something else.

[Breath of the Wind Phantom].

Across myriad vertical li, the precious, physical reserves of [Origin Qi] puffed. Scarcely absorbed before they were ejected. Inert by the force of Shuidi’s will, and shaped into the cradle that would deliver their plan hence.

Another clutch of incense sticks might well have burned.

Zhu’s voice carried across the chasm. “My benefits won’t increase further.”

“Nor mine,” confirmed Fu.

Each ghost loomed upon the precipice.

So rose dusk.

A grim counter to the true sun above, lording over this [Imperial Realm]. Of [Heritage] with his Master, Zhu demanded a second sphere arrive.

The realm chilled in answer, for all above the [Dao of Dusk’s Arrival] was obfuscated by a midnight horizon and all below became lit by only the stray plum rays that escaped from his enthralled sun.

Fresh crimson burst from Zhu’s mouth, staining his teeth as they ground together.

No small toll as his [Dao] dimmed the many thousands below. A weakening, if marginal, and one he could not sustain.

Thus Fu spoke through the moment. “Walked once it would be shallow, but memory clings to the Greenest of deaths. A Blight, in mists, in waft and encroaching poison. Feel that which turned cool my very heart. [Dao of Four Horizons].”

Screams tore from history remade, and Shuidi released this hold upon cloud and [Origin Qi] to have it descend.

An assassin’s [Dao] was shameful if unsuppressed, but did Imperials not hold eyes with which to view?

Those of Blue, in beast and humanity, craned.

First to question the unfelt darkness of Dusk, and then to cry against the impossibility of green gales that screamed in descent.

For his [Dao] brought no less than a queen of serpents: a blearing mist of [Origin Qi] where scale comprised of wind’s swift tendrils and its maw gaped with a cloud of colossal green poison. A lesser cousin to the [Green Blight] of Fu’s long-passed history.

This blow sought but a moment.

A chance.

As what might two cultivators at the middle of [Core Formation] present?

More, resounded the answer.

Gaping holes blew through the serpent as myriad techniques assailed its gaseous hide, but broke not its advance.

Fu’s [Dao of Four Horizons] detonated in scattered impacts, neglecting hastily erected [Defensive Arrays], combatting [Dao] and gouts of elemental Qi. Such was the nature of fog and poison, the assassin’s tool, insidious to the bitter end.

Chaos coughed from Blue lungs, and… sustained.

Those protected: the peripheral forces, already moved against these twinned ghosts. [Might[ spurred an upwards cascade of Imperial bodies. Bounds drew them into the ziggurat’s glaring hole and had them poise in hundreds of positions about the source.

But moments were key.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

One moment to steal. One moment to unleash. One moment to flee.

The moment only Udvah had undertaken.

Uncountable hundreds approached naught but a [Mockery], and Fu need not have used this second self’s [Senses] to feel their unified rage.

[Dao of Four Horizons].

This self scattered into the breeze, far from what unimportant nook held the masked personal disciples.

“Martial Head,” said Fu. “Speak on brother Udvah.”

Murmurs came before words.

Anfang was the solitary disciples included, tasked only with observation. Alone, she had remained to report on this course’s success.

To see her now evoked thoughts of the blight.

Gone was outburst, bluster and remark. Here she stammered like one fresh upon the Path, falling to a knee where before she deigned to stand or bow in half respect. “I- this mere Martial Head…”

Zhu flicked her between the eyes. “Don’t say it.”

“I had eyes, but failed to see,” she proclaimed. “A Heaven stands between us. Truly. How might I claim position as Martial Head-”

A second flick settled this.

“Plum-bastard, be gracious that I’ve offered compliments at all,” she snapped, swatting aside a nearing finger.

While Shuidi roiled at the impropriety, Tanshuai and Hushi impressed their shared mirth.

Undeserved praise. Our junior forgets herself so readily at the appearance of a mere distraction. This Realm weighs on her, and perhaps my disciples greatly.

“The question,” said Zhu.

“Our laughing monk crossed the [Paifang]. What else have I to say?” she scoffed, setting Fu in her sights. “I can’t speak upon his talk with our sun-facing cousins. Of more import is that technique, old man, if it’s of Wayward Winds [Heritage] then I’d surely benefit from knowing it. When will you teach me?”

A return to normality. A moment.

Zhu conversed with Tanshuai in the gloom of this recess, tracing a tapestry of Imperial movements through expanded [Senses].

Under threat of destruction, Fu withheld his second self.

If Udvah has crossed, how long might the wait be? What confirming force stands beyond the [Paifang]?

[Gleeful Viper’s] presence could well be fable.

But if so, who might accompany her? His Elder, the serpent that shared this peak so close to Heaven.

Tanshuai snapped rigid, burying herself in Hushi’s waiting arms.

Zhu swivelled his neck far north. As if stone and shade meant nothing to his superior [Senses].

“The Imperials?” queried Anfang.

An answer came in susurration. In a thousand thousand whispers and forked tongues, narrating their will upon the land.

Moments.

Udvah’s use of his proved peerless.

Small improvements to the [Mantra of False Reunions] had bolstered Fu’s own [Senses], if not to the point where entire realms might be scoured for what he sought. Yet, something pressed against his awareness.

A tactile quake, trembling against [Core] and [Spirit]. Hundreds of li distant until-

Fu pushed a resonance through his brooch. One mass signal to recall all Waywards Winds to his position with all haste.

[Dao of Four Horizons].

His second self arrived in the same conjuration.

Zhu shortly thereafter.

Then a parade of shadows sprouted at the ziggurat’s hole, poised about their senior to bear witness to all they had accomplished.

“Our cousins have come,” he said, affecting a thin smile.

The disciples saw this truth.

How great [Spatial] tears let slither innumerable serpents. Onyx portals that welcomed their Sect’s crimson robes, and the supplicant [Spirit Beasts] that armed their advance.

Who could count the giants? Who could pick which peerless talent proved more immovable than the next?

Fu followed one cultivator.

A dispassionate woman of clear orthodoxy. [Intent] alone ravaged the Imperials that dared face her appearance, winnowing flesh to bone-thin scraps without the effort of a flared sleeve.

Brutality loped in the axe-throws of a plum-hued warrior. A talent of Zhu’s kin and [Heritage], howling mirthfully as he cut the Blues as if mere chaff.

Studious sorts.

An [Array] master, casting plates of meaning to rotate and dispense the inscriptions pre-set within.

Among them waved a mystery in finest silks, clad about their face in totality. A conductor of serpents, as their [Intent] radiated no less than one thousand snakes, evoking a sense of liquid fang and scale.

Anfang huffed. “Heroes of the Sect.”

“Unrivalled talents,” agreed another.

The Heavens knew this as half-truth, for these spectated disciples were no more than a first row.

“Might we have done more?” asked Fen, sharing a snarl with her [Spirit Hyena].

Chatter among assassins.

The Fatherly [Asura] opened his lips, and Hushi bid them close.

Put in your eyes, came the impression.

His smile deepened.

No complaint came for honor, nor demand that any Wayward Wind be recognised for contribution or value.

Only jian, primed.

“Stow these blades, my disciples. Take heart and take breath. The Sect is reached and to add our arm would paint legs on a serpent,” he said. “Prepare but one thing: fresh robes. I have a sense that propriety is needed for who comes next.”

🀦

The Lords bowed, and Yifei offered a single word before their spurning. “Gratitude.”

Her pace began.

What the aftermath saw was a cleansing, for lesser disciples were burdened with the propriety of this scene. Men of luggage and load-bearing [Spirit Serpents], vessels for storage and the harvest of what materials might benefit their Sect.

So came an unfurling of structure long unseen. A slant of roof-tiles upon wooden pillar, stylized in the fashion of serpents. An entrance that spilled from the hands of labourers to surround this calmed [Paifang], culminating in no less than a mortal’s palace.

The Martial disciples awaited, bowed at the waist.

Aides moved forth to greet Yifei, further bowed in ministerial robes. The courtly attire of bufu style, drawing Fu’s notice, who expected scholars of Sect uniform.

But perhaps this was fitting, for [Gleeful Viper] would be attended by no less.

He drew from his pipe. “[Divine Sense] reveals much.”

“It’s no business of ours,” noted Zhu. “Lest you wish to meddle. Master Ban will hold answers, should it be important.”

Yifei alone held a [Constellation Seed] among these Sect elites.

“Matters for another day, unless it cannot wait. Forgive my mortal desires, but I long for a hot meal and a hotter bath. Disciple Aarushi’s care, should she grant it. In truth, this day has taxed me.”

Zhu swept a stray hair from his own brow, intent on closing figures ahead. “Our actions are precursor to a meeting, nothing more. That bath might elude you, brother, as distant as the wine I so wish cooled my hand.”

The aide concluded his messages, inscribing much on a tablet within his care. Information soon passed to a retinue of ministerial sorts by the structure’s fore.

YIfei advanced between prostrate cultivators, her direction evident.

Solemn was the air about her.

Forgotten, it seemed, was the clash that still painted much of this ziggurat’s floor.

“Little plum,” no less than barked a cultivator. One Fu had viewed in possession of brutish axes and familiar [Bloodline].

Disdain crowded Zhu’s features.

“Flowers rise to face the sun, weeds do not. Why then do you show the Sect’s treasure such lacking face?” growled the brutish, plum-eyed disciple.

Some immodest entourage tread by his side, all of orthodoxy and entitled look. With presence they crowded the ghosts’ stance.

Fu puffed further, unfettered by the cultivator’s mocking glare.

The Jianghu held engorged muscle in small regard. Slender frames and power without effort, these prevailed against unsightly mass. This plum brute had clearly succeeded against the grain of expectation, lording himself over Zhu.

“Strange little plum, answer your older brother. Name how you stand here, and by what power you declare the right to disrespect Mistress Yifei. Why we take the knee and you forget to do so?”

Perhaps it was queer, but Fu detected no malice in this question.

It is not unreasonable.

Zhu acted rationally. “Without insult, should you ask her. Something I’d suggest you do, for we do not stand here to speak of misunderstandings.”

“Your kin speak like this?” laughed another, nameless and proud.

“Not all,” the brute mused. “The worthy do. Your face is unknown to me, little plum, and you, one-armed disciple. My father’s son should know better. The Four Corners displacement stirs rice in with jade, and it must be known where all cultivators stand. Kneel, or name your station.”

Those massed by the structure turned their [Senses] to this exchange. Fu felt the weight of their gazes.

“Brother,” turned Zhu. “I’ve forgotten the little patience I had held. Better we talk with [Spring] Imperials, for at least we suffer their conversation for purpose.”

Fu stroked his whisker. “Honoured serpents, the [Paifang] awaits us. It is good to see that Sect disciples still hold propriety in high regard, but our duties are as ships in the night. May yours be fruitful.”

“Words two degrees too kind, brother,” said Zhu, walking around the cabal of cultivators.

A corrective palm met Fu’s shoulder. “Hold a moment-”

It phased through the [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud].

The ghosts could not skulk before the [Paifang, awaiting entry. To blur across a threshold was suspect and surely to be met with blades.

Neither had they cause to. A personal disciple need not bow.

“Toads, lusting after swan’s meat,” laughed the previous speaker. “These actions presume that you have a right to walk in an Inner Disciple’s footsteps. Perhaps you do, but civility demands an explanation. Spurn us again and we will have cause for offence.”

Shuidi bristled.

Such are the confrontations of the sun-facing Sect, sister. Still yourself, an assassin does not reveal their appointment merely when asked.

The pair gained paces towards the [Paifang].

This laughing cultivator was suddenly before them. A handsome fellow of dandelion [Ink] upon his cheek. “Here is a joyous occasion. A name is no trouble, and your silence makes difficulty where none is needed. Must we trade pointers?”

Hushi lifted the douli’s brim.

[Intent] buried the ziggurat’s floor. First in weight, and then in ten thousand blades. Spectral edges blossomed about the sky and each intervening space, threatening any that dared break free from the mountainous pressure.

“Disciples.”

Beneath his struggling frame, the laughing cultivator paled.

Neither ghost was on a knee.

Yifei’s grace floated her before the meeting, stalling her advance to the [Paifang]. “Are the youth of today so tactless?”

Pressure broke from the confronting group, if only about this brute and dandelion [Inked] disciple.

“Venerable Mistress Zheng!” folded the brute, an address copied by the second.

Yifei’s [Spirit Serpent] uncoiled, unfolding its full height to glare upon the supplicant pair.

“Is offence given?” she asked.

“Yes, venerable Mistress. Two walk here that-”

[Intent] beat the brute to the ground.

Zhu regarded his kin. “Cease this, cousin. I’ve hatred for it, but they act only on Sect interest. That shouldn’t be punished.”

The ziggurat’s entirety drew in breath as the [Intent] ceased.

“Cousin,” was whispered tenfold.

An arm drew further whispers, for Zhu lifted his brother to stand.

“In repetition, is offence given?”

Fu shook. “As my brother states, diligence should not be punished. These disciples asked only for a name, where our duty prevents such.”

“A name?” scoffed Yifei, her eyes narrow. “You ask for the cold of jian’s blade upon your neck and [Winter’s] darkest depth. Offence is offered to the wind itself, and in reparation your senior must ask: what is to be done?”

“A wisdom-blind fool once said that poor men cannot suffer small intolerances,” said Zhu. “Let this be forgotten.”

Yifei nodded once. “Then it is so,” she said, and her serpent lowered. “If you forgive this insult then I, Zheng Yifei, will escalate it no further. ‘Small intolerances’. Yes. These disciples know not of Heavens beyond Heavens, nor the magnanimity of your choice.”

“Cousin,” dipped Fu.

Her head inclined, minorly. “Cousins.”

Once more she advanced, parting to cross the [Paifang].

When all was settled, the brute spoke. “Ten thousand apologies, brother of Plums. Our blood yet boiled from our contest, and we have acted foolishly."

“A mild excuse,” sounded the other. “We failed to put in our eyes. If reparations are to be made, know we are ever humbled by this.”

Zhu took one look at his kin, and left with Tanshuai in his wake.

Naturally, Shuidi wished for the pair to cripple their [Dantian] and foreswear cultivation for such insult.

Fu only smiled. “Save hardship for those of [Spring’s] Empire, cousins. Those of our Sect are not deserving of it. Farewell. May you all walk interesting paths.”

Several steps had the ghosts rejoin some few paces from the [Paifang’s] fresh structure.

“A wisdom-blind fool?” asked Fu.

“Who else?”

The rows of prostrated disciples remained so, never lifting as the structure’s screen yawned open. Beyond shone the glittering arch, and if Udvah’s talents could be trusted, across the threshold they would find Master Ban.

“Little plum. My father’s son. These are no molehills, Zhu. For what it is worth, and however little you wish to hear it: this wisdom-blind fool might be proud of his brother.”

Zhu stalled as an aide scurried from his path. Emotion rotated across his face, in rage, disgust, pride, and then neutrality. “Gratitude. But long is the road that’ll rid me from his shadow. This… this is a minor thing. Against cultivation, or [Dao] or Paths, it is inconsequential.”

“The Zhu of our first meeting would have crippled another for even speaking of such association. No, brother, you have grown. It is anything but inconsequential.”

The [Paifang’s] light waxed at their proximity.

Tanshuai and Hushi urged a final turn, seeing the innumerable disciples. All those that had angled towards these ghosts, offering all the respect they might muster.

“We have both grown, no?” Zhu smiled.