Fatherly Asura

A world expanded in immaculate strokes. Broad, blackened ink that moved as if life breathed within it.

Fu tread over papyrus scroll, finding no edge where ground met horizon.

In swift blinks he adjusted to the trickery of black that comprised Zhu and Bingbai, painted only in shades of this same ink, as were the partners upon his line-formed body.

This place goes beyond reason.

His heart pulsed.

Titans moved.

One blotch where the Heavens set down their brush, orchestrating will with a master’s touch. For before him a whirlpool unfurled, and the canvas of this realm presented a growing scene of twinned serpents.

Of all things, these were firmest. The most realized of any line that comprised his rising chest or moving sleeve.

And from them, a figure emerged.

The crone and Elder, [Of Perennial Shade], who demanded all bend in supplication without so much as a whisper.

“My gatherers of cloud. How bold you have become, how insolent. Bingbai, child. To demand an audience of your betters in such a fashion.”

Of flowing ink, their Master rose to a knee. “This transgression is my own, and of priority, Elder. If punishment is to be meted, then weigh it upon me solely. These responsibilities cannot be ignored.”

“Responsibiliities? Bah,” swatted [Of Perennial Shade]. “Never has such a thought compelled you.”

Fu thought the Elder’s tone soft, and himself a fool for it a heartbeat later.

The serpent that all shadows bow to. The Matriarch of secrets and silent deaths. None but those above her might stir softness, care or concern.

But of all things, Bingbai chuffed a singular laugh. “This young fool would not tread on the Elder’s time for longer than is required. Our paltry efforts are undeserving of this attention. I arrive only for recent developments and what might be forgiven as selfish desire.”

The ink-made serpents reared, and from their exposed fangs coursed great stains of black.

Further lines.

Further oddity.

Zhu cupped Tanshuai close, and what darkness marked his features might well have shuddered in response.

Underfoot, a mountain expanded. Something that words could not bring to justice, nor could memory place as a scene Fu might ever witness again. Clouds drenched its every face, no, its every pebble, for which it could be said that each grew as large again as the first.

Mountains in each grain, and for each thousandth, thousandth grain a pebble. Those of Cloud Gathering were deemed worthy to stand in but one of their shadows.

“Know this, young Bingbai: waste not your words,” intoned their Elder.

The ink warped where his hand extended, proffering a sphere of arcing light. A power of riotous ivory, distorting the stability of this papyrus realm.

A mere disciple could not comprehend an Elder’s speed, but the [Splinter] was already clutched in [Of Perennial Shade’s] grasp at the moment it emerged.

It was then the mountain grew.

Soared with fresh conjurations of the [Splinter’s] light.

Shuidi offered her guess.

Fu refrained from nodding.

“Disciple Ban, Master of the Cloud Gathering Division. Address this matter, swiftly, and dare not invite my scorn.”

Bingbai’s arms crossed behind his back. “Treasure reaped from the vault of false Imperials, blind to its worth. Ignored by all it possesses.”

The ink of [Of Perennial Shade] stilled in contemplation. “[Spring] has placed great trials in the path of those with initiative. So too has it borne fruits, clear as limpid waters, yes. I will speak now, and disciple Ban, you will bring truth to these matters. You did not find this treasure.”

“I did not. Disciple Gao Fu discovered in his first realm of severance. One of Yellow, named as the [Shores of Heavy Whisper].”

“A count of nine [Seasons] has passed since,” she said in clarity, though Fu had no cause to question how she of all beings would know this. “The return of your Cloud Gathering, indeed, the shame of your rescue, [Sage of Starry Skies]: these events are no close thing. When did you become aware of this?”

“Only prior to our ceremony, venerable Elder,” clasped Bingbai.

“Bah, see here the selfish desires of fresh cultivators. And yet, the [Dao Oath] does not elude them. Bingbai you fall short of expectation, for your juniors should know well what priority this treasure takes! Foolish serpents. Ignorant or blind. Not tainted by greed, however, no more than the moderate avarice of any upon the Path.”

[Of Perennial Shade] hummed, evoking much of Grandmother Hua.

“Venerable Elder-”

Words choked upon Zhu’s lips, for in this realm of ink they had been suddenly removed.

“A second warning, no? Your opinion was not asked for, child of plums. Do not equate presence with importance.”

Zhu returned his head to the ground.

Their Elder continued. “Is this your offering, Bingbai? To accompany the deeds named March of Serpents, the retrieval of [Constellation Seeds] and the tides of [Spring] slain by the hands beneath you?”

Bingbai dared a chuckle, depositing a further nine [Splinters].

“Pageantry. Bah,” her voice came, unperturbed by this revelation. “Truth and fiction are not separate here. No. For my attention was put to this March of Serpents: these three hundred realms. Here rest ten of Heaven’s pearls, found within. Do you understand the significance of this, disciple Ban?”

The serpents neared, staining all where he stood.

Eastward, but close, Guang spoke in his stead. “Our duties count stars and rising winds, venerable Elder. What time have we for other matters?” said Guang.

“Hmm,” mused [Of Perennial Shade]. “Said from one less prudent, it might not be so. Good, good. I would hear your petition, and see it weighed.”

A flick assembled each [Splinter] into the mountain.

Vast was its growth.

Beyond profound.

Still the ghosts remained in its shadow.

In depths of ink.

“Soil, that roots may grow. An accompanying range where my gatherers of Cloud might flourish. Wisteria Peaks, Jade Songbird Province, Chimes of Black Serendipity and Golden Bodhi Sanctuary. Together, I propose it as the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture.”

Names to commit to memory, should this be fruitful.

Queer, was the Elder’s tilt. A look over one shoulder, high, making clear that this conversation was not shared only among those Fu might see.

Gon Ma’s presence was absolute.

The papyrus beneath rushed, grew, and left a vacant white underfoot as it unwound into distant, unreachable space.

All they had witnessed was one scale, set upon his serpent’s hide. And now this divinity of scales and ink-rich luster began a circuit, trailing and circling itself until all it had manifested upon itself blackened to become the Yin.

This backdrop of white, the Yang.

Married, no clearer taijutu had Fu ever glimpsed.

[Of Perennial Shade] hummed, and the cadence was no thing to be equated with a matriarch of assassins. “The petition succeeds in your favor, [Sage of Starry Skies]. Show gratitude, tenfold, for what you have asked was in great contention. But know, Cloud Gathering, disciples and Master alike: opportunity and responsibility are twinned fangs. See that these are ever balanced.”

All gathered rose to bow once more in repetition.

Ban said nothing, and bid with small gestures that his disciples refrain from speech.

Instinct pulled Fu to stand as the Gon Ma’s papyrus world dissolved from sight, returning the sepia tones of the ceremony- yet frozen as they had left it.

“Where better is [Heritage] shown?” cut his indomitable tone, gathered in the ears of every shadow. “Named in Cloud Gathering, and presented in Wayward Winds. Clear rings the chime of the [Sage of Starry Skies], echoing in posterity. See what these serpents have wrought.”

When the title of Master was conferred upon one, perhaps insight into such ceremonies came aside it.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from NovelFire. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Bingbai’s palm opened with a fragment of the [True Orchid Path], and yet it was his Qi that birthed the spectacle.

A history.

For in the space that myriad ghosts watched came a splay of constellations. [Imperial Realms] as they had been some days or weeks after [Spring] had made itself known to the Four Corners.

“Disciples,” he called.

Fu blinked.

Zhu quirked a brow.

The pair lifted their heads, asking in tandem. “Yes, Master?”

Stars of Bingbai’s conjuring began to wink from existence, falling in the very same sequence of their reaping.

“What teaching delivered these acts?” he asked. “If wisdom might be spoken, let it be heard by your brothers and sisters alike.”

The March of Serpents collapsed all but a vestige of the [True Orchid Path], inviting a great and spreading absence in the air about them.

Shuidi clacked, impressing her cultivator rise. Then aside his brother, his partners and three strides from his master, he did.

[Profundity] shared in unison.

“No less than this is required,” they spoke, and these words gusted upon a swift and sudden breeze.

About the hall came not a bending of knee, but ten thousand affirmations.

Whispers.

Acknowledgement.

Then the personal disciples of Bingbai, of Cloud Gathering and Wayward Winds, made to dip their heads once more.

“No, Zhu, Tanshuai, Fu, Shuidi and Hushi. Stand tall and lower no gaze. Ghosts do not celebrate such ceremony on a whim, and I’ll suffer no disciple that can’t stand before a crowd of their kin.”

🀩

“Forgiveness, but these quantities of [AIr Qi] will only be diluted with such a composition,” came a sidewards mumble. “To suppress the [Array Core] and maintain subtlety as it absorbs ambient Qi, there are simpler methods.”

The dock was lively.

A throng of seventeen scholars scrawled at each spoken word. “The individual circuitry of [Spring’s] [Array]-work must first be stripped, and each individual component scoured of any lingering [Profundity]. Tasks that are beyond our current means. Is this-”

Long was the interrupting sigh as Sonali smacked her partner on the shoulder. “Xiong, you’re mumbling again.”

His [Spirit Cicada] buzzed.

“Yes my love- ah, sister!” he corrected, snapping from his weary tone. With a palm, Xiong disrupted the evident [Profundity] on this Warship’s hull. Motes of gold that swiftly faded as if burned away.

The surrounding scholars gasped, calling “Brother Xiong,” in exclamation.

It fell on deaf ears.

Xiong and Sonali, their [Spirit Cicada] and [Spirit Crane] respectively- were in a half bow, dipped for those that passed them.

“Disciples,” smiled Fu, approximating a clasp of hands. “I see you have fresh appointments. Warship [Arrays], or other alchemical positions?”

“I’d think it a role of mentorship before long, senior,” bit Sonali. “These scholars haven’t the basics of [Array] disruption, and study only the techniques of the Clear Sky. It’s small wonder this dock hasn’t collapsed under the weight of their projects.”

Those aside them with quill and fresh annoyance, grumbled.

Fu loosed a genuine laugh. “Temperance, disciple, temperance. We all walk different Paths, and they will hold a wealth of insight I am sure.”

More gold faded from the hull at Xiong’s bidding. “Senior,” he greeted, scarcely occupied with the task.

“Disciple Xiong. If at all able, hold Sonali to account. Though a greater task I doubt many have faced,” Fu said, and drew a great susurrus as he bowed. “It has not been said enough, but please, accept my gratitude. However it might blow, I hope that our winds cross again.”

The pilots of his Warship looked to one another, returning this bow.

“You honor us, senior,” said Xiong, stepping beside his partner. “It is we that should extend our gratitude.”

Fu smiled once more, and departed.

Was his mind on matters beside fresh horizons, the once-fisherman would have marvelled at all above, below and about him. The enormity of Warships that floated aside a thousand jetties and the happenings of serpents, scribes, merchants and near-mortals that worked about them.

A chill of lightning crackled within. A signal, growing fainter from his [Heartplume of Clouded Schisms].

Hushi stirred beneath the douli.

“How will our selves fare?” he said. “To learn each other's memories cannot be done across the boundaries of realms. Even if a copy, and no twin, I would have all our parts know the joy we are to soon meet.”

“Duties to come,” was the impression from Hushi.

Fresh horizons.

In the two hours since their ceremony’s conclusion they had received no new information on this matter. Truly, Master Ban had said mysteriously little about what their current goals were, or when they were to set out.

That was until the chit had been delivered.

Fu summoned it, seeing its crimson string dance in the wind. “We are here,” he said, arriving at the station where it described.

Empty space, save for his waiting brother.

Zhu’s legs dangled over a clouded expanse as he sipped from an ornate bottle, stopping only to look up. “I’ve no thoughts as to what this might be. Though I’m eager to be elsewhere, the moisture of these clouds is dishevelling my hair.”

“Master Ban has sent no word. Have you sat here long?”

“No more than… No. I’d thought to travel as might befit a personal disciple. The change from movement techniques to walking is a vexation,” he said, albeit with a smile. “Before you spout unwanted wisdom, it’s just an observation. More enjoyable when not surrounded by these oppressive clouds.”

Again Fu smiled. “Peacetime acts. Strange, I had never thought to take walking as a thing of leisure.”

As if in afterthought, Zhu glanced upwards. “Oh?”

“What it is?”

“Familiar souls. The cowardly Kang Jae and Mridul’s daughter. Not unaccompanied, but the [Clouded Ghost Arts] deny any other indications,” he said.

Tanshuai urged her partner up, chastising his lack of propriety.

The bow of a modest vessel broke through these surrounding clouds to descend amongst the moorings of its monstrous kin.

Bingbai sat at the fore, cross-legged upon Guang’s shell.

A half breath would cross the distance for these disciples, for it was no great difficulty to leap some several hundred paces.

But this felt… auspicious, and so neither danced among the clouds: waiting instead for this vessel to gently stall aside them.

“Master,” came their shared greeting.

His eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh-ho, what is this? I see my disciples attempt to follow decorum. Don’t take my teasing to heart, young Zhu, Fu, I’ve a great love for your rowdyness.”

Zhu gave a rare smile as they met their Master upon the deck.

“Master, are we to leave? The lands awarded by [Of Perennial Shade] are surely vast, and we are eager for direction.”

The vessel shuddered under Guang’s rumbling chuff. “Rowdy, yes. Negligent, no. Be peaceful disciples. The rivers and lakes will flow without you upon them. Is this what we have made them, Bingbai? Constructs and weapons?”

Bingbai scowled. “Yes, yes, it’s enough to foster [Heart Demons]. Disciples, you will follow me now.”

Where the Wayward Wind’s Warship was of towering construction this ship held a long, central structure. It evoked thoughts of Thousand Shore City, and while not of their naming conventions, he had come across similar-seeming boats from other settlements.

A hongtou, though tiles and screen separate what a simple hood they might have possessed. And scale, naturally.

With small indulgence Fu traced the intricacies of the balustrade. The richness of Qi within this wood, carved in a fashion of clouds and billowing winds. Truly, it must have been repurposed from a realm of [True Lord Grade], for it was enough to have his [Core] feel lighter with ambiance alone.

There came no office. No desk or chamber in which to speak.

Bingbai drew his disciples to the vessel’s rear, and to a simple inner balcony that might afford an unparalleled view if clouds did not dominate the realm.

“It’s a mild gesture, and milder repayment,” he said, smiling into the cloud-soaked abyss.

Repayment?

Hushi unfurled, spectating as Guang phased through doorways that could never hold a width as… great as he. “Plain, Bingbai. You keep them from joy.” rumbled his low tone.

“Oh-ho. Yes. Forgive me, disciples. No, forgive me twice over. Perhaps I’ve said it in prior talks, or not. As a Master, my efforts are lacking,” Bingbai said, shaking to forestall the protests of both disciples. “Light is bright and dark is not, don’t argue what is plain to see. In training, tutelage and heritage there’s little evidence that I have shaped you. Mortal fallacies have interrupted us, no vicissitudes, but that of swift change.”

Zhu stowed his wine. “The [Four Directions Tribulation Array]. Those [Demonic Arts] borne of the [Hollow Ivory Splinters]. [Constellation Impacting Pill]. Demystifying the Heavens as a grandfather might share tales with children. Master, you draw legs on a snake where none are needed.”

Behind, Guang rumbled. “Quiet, disciple. We hold eyes of our own.”

It was without malice, and stilled further protests as Bingbai spoke again. “The coming [Seasons] will rectify this. Our fresh horizon. But- and heed this well, disciples. We aim to spread shadow in a growing sea of fire. No small task. Enjoy this break.”

A thunderous heart beat in Fu’s chest. “Break?”

Grandly, Bingbai spun. “Naturally,” he chuckled. “Do you think me cruel? Merit must be rewarded, and so I grant you three [Seasons]. One far kinder than I would allow a moon, or five, and yet we must lay foundations toward our newest venture.”

Three souls brightened, and Fu could not deny a smile. “Three [Seasons]? Master, no gift could be greater. Gratitude, a thousand-fold.”

“Oh? Guang, I’d said this vessel was a poor gift,” he laughed, drawing two onyx rings from his sleeve. “If this is all it took to secure further devotion, I’ve been a fool. These baubles secured from [Of Perennial Shade] will be of no use then?”

Zhu caught his as it was thrown. “Cruelty, yes. Never has a more tyrannical Master existed.”

“Said, as you didn’t receive a vessel?” teased Bingbai. “I’ve no favourites. Within you’ll find a treasure of equal value. Know that I’ve taken liberties with what rewards have come from the court of [Everlasting Scales Upon Canvas] and Elder [Of Perennial Shade]. Exterior means of cultivation, the [Pills] and middling tinctures that come as standard. These are unsuitable, and instead I’ve influenced a search for treasures more aligned with your Paths. My disciples haven’t need of base [Pills] to simply cleanse their [Meridians], no?”

Absent was Fu’s attention on the ring, but he bowed upon receiving it all the same. “Further gratitude. I would ask more on our three [Seasons], however, if it does not trouble you. Are we given leave to spend it as we see fit?”

“Hold. I would know more on these treasures,” said Zhu.

“To be received in the Jade Songbird Provence, upon our meeting. For you both, [Constitution] tempering materials, and so I’d suggest you refrain from other methods until your return. Among them, I have requisitioned [Spirituality] enriching treasures. Already do you practice admirable work with Qi-purity, but I’d have you secure future growth while within the range of middle to late [Core Formation]. Age and realm only adds difficulty to this.”

Zhu nodded. “And wealth?”

Tanshuai antagonized his face with a flutter of wings, returning to Hushi after.

“Retrieval of the [Splinters] has afforded you four hundred and eighty thousand peak-grade spirit stones, halved, naturally,” sighed Bingbai. “As if such things were of interest.”

The plum-eyed cultivator almost collapsed. “Peak-grade?”

“Our leave, master?” asked Fu.

“Yes, to be concluded in three [Seasons]. Correspondence will be shared through your mockery, Gao Fu, if the [Constellation Seed] did not change its name. The Cloud Gathering division will await its disciples there, or facilitate return to the Clear Sky Empire if my expectations fall short,” came the chuckle. “With diligence, a path might be charted to deliver you to Divine Clouded Mountain within the span of a week. Perhaps less, with motivation.”

Fu’s foot edged slightly, intent on the door. “With-”

“Disciple Udvah is engaged, Gao Fu,” stalled Bingbai’s palm. “And those of the Wandering House have yet to arrive. Secure a means of travel yourself, or await [Sixth Under Heaven’s] collapse. Yet, these events align. Once access is facilitated, his downfall will be swift. Of note, young Zhu, is the [Plum Axe’s] mentioned appearance.”

“Among others,” said Zhu.

“Indeed, indeed. Among others. The Empire of Abundant [Spring] is soon to be saturated with talents. Insects to pick clean this carcass. Only our betters might guess at its swiftness, but they’ve no concern with a single [True King Realm] cultivator. Under the pretense of alliance, the Four Pillars of our Clear Sky will cleanse him with a single stroke.”

Fu’s eagerness overcame him. “Then, might we depart?”

“Breathe, brother. Yuqi, Yuling and Feng will be untroubled should you stand here for another hour, let alone moments. Forget not your passengers,” said Zhu, not unkindly. “Master, the Kang boy and Imperial’s daughter, they’re aboard.”

Here, Bingbai’s smile faded. “A topic I’d warred over. Firstmost, both have had [Dao Oaths] administered to them. No outsider can know of Sect deeds. The daughter, I trust, is of personal relations to Gao Fu. If some plea of hers has compromised the coldness of your heart, that’s a matter for reflection, disciple. But I hold faith in your decisions. Rid her of this place and Sect involvement, lest you mean to induct her.”

“Of course, master.”

Bingbai tugged his beard. “Good. The second, Kang Jae. An asset for study. His [Constellation Seed] has ascended, and I would know how. Across all my moons I’ve found the feat of ascension to be rarer than phoenix feathers, discover by what means he has done so. A gentler touch is required, for not even my needles could reveal it. One facet of the Clouded Courts you’ve escaped thus far, and will temper you for our fresh horizons. Warm his heart to you, that it might be bled when time demands it.”

“As you say, master.”

Then came a parting chuckle. “This old Master will now bid you farewell, and demand you find joy in your leave. No less than that is required, hmm?”