Fatherly Asura

“My pebble holds weight above yours,

This stone reigns in density

My own is vast

Sisters, within my palm is no pebble, but rock

None knew they were duplicates, and yet none spoke falsely,”

“[Origin Qi],” by Author Unknown

The second selves were left to ruminate for Bingbai’s words did not require their presence, nor did these moment need the complication of their arrival.

Zhu’s brow furrowed. “Personal choice is as much a Path as treasures and [Dao], isn’t it? The way you worry is childish, as our Master could only be gladdened by this.”

Tea steamed on the table before them, untouched.

“We worry more on other matters. This [Heartplume of Clouded Schisms] could not be viewed disfavorably. The larger fear is for the Clouded Court’s reaction, not our Master. Yet, to say that we forgot inspires mortal mistakes that would surely court his anger.”

As a [Celestial Qi] cultivator, Master Ban held no need for doors. Never would Fu place his own talents in comparison, but in the same manner as wind, he simply arrived.

“Oh-ho?” came his laugh. “My juniors play at being rowdy again. I’m unsurprised."

The disciples dipped in greeting, offering welcome.

Bingbai sat with a lively fold of legs, tugging upon his beard. “Gao Fu, I see you’ve absorbed the [Constellation Impacting Pill]. Hmm, and your [Clouded Ghost Arts] have indeed grown in these past [Seasons] for I hold trouble in detecting which seed you ascended.”

“The [Twin Mockeries Heartplume], master,” he said.

His Master gestured airily, spurring on more information and nodding intently as Fu offered all that had transpired.

“Interesting, yes. In fact, I’m quite fascinated by this change. A replication of self that does not diminish one’s cultivation. The [Cherry River Pilgrim] has similar facets within their Path, as do the Murky Mirror Sect of southern acclaim. Yes, in certainty there’s an exhaustive list, but these are of note and I’d likely say others pale in comparison. Tell me, Gao Fu, for which aspect of your Path did you manifest this talent?”

So close to late [Core Formation] as he was, Fu did not know his mouth could dry to this extent.

Almost mortal in expression.

“Duality might be claimed,” began Fu. “But I would not shame my master so. This disciple leapt blind at the promise of a secondary form, for in his hopes he thought only of family.”

In waters to the room’s rear, Guang stirred. “A dabble in Sect and family. Is it half, or do young souls think it double?”

Seven strokes passed upon Bingbai’s beard. “Is this so? How I’d wish diligence applied twofold and not as Guang suggests.”

“Forgiveness, Master.”

The silence hung heavy.

“Mortal desires. Yes. Again I forget how fresh upon the Path you are. You both, young Zhu, for your hand is in this, no?”

Zhu frowned at the tea in his saucer. “The [Imperial Realm] of his [Constellation Seed’s] belonging was one I claimed. As my brother, aren’t his interests my own?”

“I see. [One Hundred Rhythms of the Golden Needle],” Bingbai called, releasing his quiver into the air.

Subtle impacts rained upon Fu, ignoring the mists of his flesh. Even grown, he could scarcely sense their intent.

Bingbai’s eyes glinted gold. “A true duplication, aided by the previous [Mind Cultivation] manual you studied. The [Mantra of False Reunions], ah, an old technique but of suitable purpose. Some product of your [Intermediary Wisdom], I’d say, for the regal clans of the One Hundred and Eight would slay nine generations for the insult of pillaging their tomes.”

“I was heedless of its origin, master.”

This was waved aside. “No, no, it’s a fitting scripture to serve as this [Boon’s] foundation. Brace.”

Pain quivered through Fu’s [Core] in a minor bite.

“The nexus of your connection, do you feel it?” Bingbai queried, highlighting a strand of his [Constellation Seed] that intersected with the [Channels] of [Mind]. “Work to cultivate this within your [Conception Vessel], for here is where memory flows. As Master, I’ve concern for your [Dao]. The exposure of two selves will twist your insight if you’ve not the resolve to combat it. And yet, in short [Seasons] I believe Gao Fu a man of singular thought. Perhaps it’s no great trouble.”

The [One Hundred Rhythms of the Golden Needle] ended, retracting implement and golden aura alike.

Fu bowed deeply. “A thousand gratitudes master.”

“One is sufficient,” chuckled Bingbai. “But recall, disciple, your [Spirit] isn’t halved. The [Dao Oath] that binds one form binds both. A wiser course would be deception, for then you’d hold no need for what you wish to pass.”

Tanshuai crawled before Fu, and her look was knowing.

This had been her suggestion.

“Fu lies only in service. This must be known?” cut Zhu. “Ah, and yet, there is omission.”

An unhelpful sentence, brother. Perhaps I should have presented myself without one upon the Path of Truth.

“There is,” pondered Bingbai.

Of one heart now, it still thundered. “This disciple awaits your judgement, master.”

Laughter filled the room.

“For what, Gao Fu? You’ve yet to ask or demand a thing. Oh-ho, and I believe that other matters take priority. Important missives and news both grand and ill. So disconnected from the Sect were we that happenings within the Clear Sky have passed us by.”

So abrupt a change of conversation had Fu disheartened, and if not for Zhu’s warning smirk his protests might have begun in earnest.

The disciples straightened.

Three scrolls floated from Bingbai’s palm, atop showed characters of mundane ink. Shuidi corrected this, for the calligraphy was supposedly of divine talent.

No mere missive.

“In no sequence, I’d present titles. Dissolution, Wayward Winds. Edict, Clear Sky. Then, for a Master’s eyes only, Assets, Four Corners Incident.”

Zhu withdrew a clay bottle of spirit wine, brushing the tea aside. Its tithe was deep. “Of the second named, we’re aware of the Clear Sky Edict. Nothing new presents, master, save for the implications we’ve surely missed.”

As his brother was no mystery-seeking soul, Fu spoke next. “Of the various Sects displaced, is there a count of claimed realms? When first we heard of this the Empire of [Spring] seemed insurmountable, rivalled only by our Cloudy Serpent Sect or notable immortals of higher clans and organizations.”

“An acceptable question,” nodded Bingbai. “If you’ve cause to study its intricacies I would share the intelligence gathered. To address its points, know only that myriad forces have subjugated [Spring’s] presence. Of Clouded Court’s concern is those untreated by my disciples’ March of Serpents.”

Shuidi swelled with pride.

Peace, sister, I sense difficulty in this.

“Treasures that communicate between [Mystic Realms] are rare as phoenix feathers, this all know, and yet the Clouded Courts holds no equal. Disconnected from the [True Orchid Path], [Paifang] now sprout with connections to the Clear Sky.”

Fu blinked. “Such a good thing exists?”

Zhu laughed, mockingly. “Then trouble arrives on two fronts.”

“Indeed.”

The room dimmed.

At his side, Hushi impressed several thoughts for Fu to voice. “Foolish are those that do not fish in muddied waters.”

“Indeed,” repeated Bingbai, collapsing the pertinent scroll. “In time these green-eyed dogs might trouble what’s rightfully the property of their betters. The Beggar Sect, [Venerable Reed Sage], younger upstarts, with access to the external Empire their position is temporarily better than our own. While our righteous Elders put straight [Spring’s] false claim, the dogs descend."

The blood within Fu’s veins warmed, and Zhu showed similar discontent.

“With Udvah’s talents we might collapse their realms,” Zhu suggested.

Cobalt light brightened the second scroll.

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“Dissolution, young Zhu. Beneath a better watch are his talents used- and to calm your hearts, disciples, he’ll suffer no injustice. The Wandering House are to be contacted in short order, brothers to your Cheng Rao. The [Shaving] in his possession is but one, though it’s of unparalleled value in these novel times.”

“Might I ask on the rest, master?”

Bingbai nodded. “Children in possession of the Jianghu’s greatest secrets. Oh-ho, naturally this has become their role. Of note is Wen Pinxui, an auxiliary disciple I’ve taken for duties adjacent to my Cloud Gathering division. The fiery one, Wu Anfang, she fills the absence left by disciple Niwai, where I’m yet undecided on replacements for Zhao Po and Yin Linhua. Brief encounters don’t accurately measure one’s soul, no? For this, I’d take recommendations.”

In short order Shuidi arrived on the table, clacking her impression against Guang’s low rumble.

“Meaningless names, disciple. Heated words.”

Hushi lent his support.

“Then it shall be.”

“Fen. [Blood of Verdant Extremities]. Only one is named,” asked Bingbai, thinning his lips. “Don’t have emotion cloud judgement, disciples. Yin Linhua’s state is best presumed dead.”

Zhu set down his wine. “We’d not waste breath, Master. You’ve some clear ploy in store.”

“Cruelty from my disciples. How intolerable.” The third scroll glowed brighter, highlighting Assets, Four Corners Incident. “Much of this overlaps with all I’ve shown you previously. All that is pertinent floats before you. Asset Rank Four, Wayward Winds. Asset Rank Three, Cloud Gathering Division. Asset Rank Two, Descent of Four Clouds. Asset Rank One, [Charred by Autumn Sands].”

Fu blinked. “Fourth, Master?”

“Third,” chided Zhu.

“Third indeed. Oh-ho, and from the look upon your faces I see you’ve no inkling as to my next words. Shed what mortal insight initiates might believe, for my disciples have escaped the long-standing woes of it. Through absence and appointment you’re no longer slaves to anonymity. Merit is rewarded.”

Of all, Shuidi grew the most ecstatic.

Bingbai continued. “As Master of the Cloud Gathering Division, and fuelled by the acts of my worthy disciples, I’ve been given dispensation where locale is concerned. Gone is the Four Corners Prefecture, and fresh horizons await us.”

Fresh horizons.

A hand was set on Fu’s shoulder. “A good fisherman counts his catch upon the shore,” said Zhu. “Be realistic.”

But Fu ever was. “Divine Clouded Mountain?”

“No, disciple. The seat of our Sect holds little value to us. But, in bidding, I might secure a region of operations that isn’t so far flung as Empires of [Spring] and all that entails,” offered Bingbai. “With the inclusion of your [Heartplume], and the endorsement from my plum-eyed disciple that this is no act of favoritism, we’ll begin the petition.”

Brothers need not guess another’s heart, nor was Zhu ever to stand without complaint. Yet some plea must have filled Fu’s eyes, for reassurance came.

“My endorsement is only to travel where the wine’s not poisoned. If Fu is aided, and our venerable Master doesn’t invite scrutiny for his charity- yes, need you ask further?”

Guang rumbled.

Bingbai tugged his cobalt beard. “Know this: these horizons will be no charity. Nor will the petition of gaining them be a pleasure, even with my disciples’ accomplishments. The hallowed [Of Perennial Shade] judges all, as is her right, and yet where we are to tread in some few moments has her stand as attendant only.”

“Then this petition is an auction, Master? Where ghosts vie for fruitful lands beneath the gaze of their betters?” asked Fu.

Their Master nodded.

“Who stands above our Elder?” asked Zhu.

“One to whom the Heavens hold loathing. Yes. An eminence that overturns the very future as you might a hand. To the [Dao], [Everlasting Scales Upon Canvas],” uttered Bingbai, reverent in hushed tones. “Of another name, Gon Ma.”

Prior [Seasons]... no.

More than a moon had passed since Fu’s start on the path against Heaven.

To reunite with [Gleeful Viper’s] second: the same immortal that had cast aside all but a clutch of Thousand Shore City had him draw a sharp breath.

“Might he be swayed by a gift?” offered Zhu, drawing a hearty laugh from their Master.

A [Splinter] appeared to silence it.

From ten thousand motes of light, Guang reformed aside it. A trunk-like neck extended above Zhu’s head, no less than glaring down. “Bingbai,” came his rumble.

“Gift,” said Bingbai, tasting the word about his mouth.

Absent, much unlike himself.

“Sufficient enough to place the Cloud Gathering higher in auction?” said Zhu, setting this mystery down without the reverence all others held for it.

The laughter turned raucous. “Oh-ho. Oh-ho-oh-ho. My disciples, this will secure horizons untold.”

Further [Splinters] spilled forth, discarded like used chopsticks. “Then what might nine more bring?”

🀩

Such a pavillion existed in this place.

A court.

A hall, if mortals did not mistake it for skies.

The ghosts saw it as an approach, and in name this is what they did.

No meeting of valor and matters for the sun to ponder, the parades were of silent stride and concealed visage.

Open air had the mists hide most. The alcoves rear of gold-dipped pillars and the unrolled carpet of purest Sect crimson. Those figures that lingered there, exposed and not, for no true ghost would be seen as others were.

In silence, their weight might shatter mountains.

And, at the end of this unmatched misty vastness that Fu’s [Senses} could not comprehend came a singular intonation.

“Descent of Four Clouds,” it carried.

A thousand thousand masks, douli, winds, shawls, cloaks, shadows, clouds: turned.

“For exemplary acts within this span of [Spring’] influence, you hold the honor of approaching one li’s distance of the venerable [Everlasting Scales Upon Canvas].”

So saying, the shadows crawled.

Forms fell prostrate. Serpents in mass.

[Of Perennial Shade] had not spoken, and so Bingbai had no cause to kneel. Though at his side the personal disciples bowed deep, honoring those that had prevailed in ways they might not fathom.

We have placed third in a contest we did not know we played. I had thought us greater than minnow, but we have failed to notice the sea beyond our puddle.

The March of Serpents weighed on him.

How much further are the Heavens than this? If our unintentional deeds fall so short.

Shuidi impressed warning before Fu had call to react, for a presence soaked forth to fill the space where words were expected.

He thought it blades. A certainty of things. Direct. Unparalleled.

Gon Ma’s very being was undeniable at his ear; in his mind; before his eyes. At the first word he saw a scene painted as clear as day.

Li distant, the Descent of Four Clouds accepted their honor.

Askance from an empty throne, Gon Ma stood imperious. Colder than [Winter’s] depths, Fu saw no shred of humanity within this Elder. Merely the look of a dragon, having stumbled upon mewling babes.

“[Sister Straying Cloud], Eastern Droplets, Descent of Four Clouds, Four Corners Prefecture. See here your duty fulfilled. See here the Sect’s gratitude imparted. In no corner but this will such deeds be praised, so I command, let all serpents know all you have wrought.”

The canvas before Fu, trapped where iris met air, shifted.

A daoist of blackened robes stole three steps before the vastness between she and this vacant throne, assembling a gesture with one palm and articulate fingers.

[Sister Straying Cloud]. Shuidi, Hushi, what might we gain from spectating her? Surely a wealth in each movement.

“Amituofo. Humble offerings to the seat of Serpents,” she said.

“Amituofo. Humble offerings to the seat of Serpents,” voiced her [Spirit Octopus].

Hushi extended quiet curiosity.

Few were those [Spirit Beasts] that overtly reflected their cultivation. Most held a myriad of subtleties within the Clouded Courts. Some shading or lack of presence, ethereality and absence to best represent the shadows called home.

Here, [Sister Straying Cloud] partnered with a beast of composition close to Hushi’s. One of spectral puff that had eight arms appear as intersecting, topaz mist.

Her Path may well share steps with our own. Is she of interest to you, brother?

No soul among them pined or held romantic attachment, their love was held in store for the family they already had.

Even still…

The Eastern Droplets coalesced at their senior’s fore, unspooling a great tapestry between furthest members.

Five, and their partners of equal number.

Solely.

That five souls might comprise a squad of our highest strata. How deft must they be? It is an honor to bear witness.

Pride welled in Fu’s chest as the first hilt emerged. A rising shape that saw the tapestry become as rippling liquid, star-filled and bright. Surely a [Constellation Seed], as was fitting for a cultivator of this esteem.

The second hilt rose, styled with a great lotus at its base.

Third held antlers of bone at the guard.

An axe of plum-dark metal rose fourth.

Hushi impressed a faint familiarity.

“Need you aid, younglings? Of four, two should be known.”

Gratitude, old master. But this presentation comes clearer than most. Brother, we have faced such a blade before.

These weapons were no more than tokens.

Stories.

How an Elder of the Lotus Blade Sect was culled. Their once-allies, the Western Bone Cult’s Elder, or the Prairie Deer Sect’s Matriarch. Hands stolen from the Four Tiger Pill Society. Golden Merchant Association. Fist of Nine Sect. An oddity drawn from the Ivory Sea Sect, of which Fu questioned for mere moments before the subsequent thousands emerged.

A graveyard of hilts.

Axes.

Edges.

Heads severed from qiang or a quartered gun.

Crisis is but opportunity, riding a dangerous wind.

Insight warmed his brow as [Ink] mirrored this upon his arm.