Fatherly Asura

“Forgiveness, Fu Gao. This lacking father, lied.

From one to another,

Mridul"

The Warship could not be called such. His vessel, perhaps, the boat, or another placeholder until better names were provided.

Fu mused on this, and indeed, mused on a great many things.

Idleness had eaten two days into his three [Seasons], carrying him little across the myriad realms under the Clear Sky’s control. Now the cultivators were simply… adrift.

One vessel in orange-hued skies.

“But… honorable Zhu I… anything that I attempt…”

Zhu no less than threw the pot at Kang Jae. “It’s rice. Have any a need for peerless talent in order to cook rice?”

Tanshaui and his [Spirit Grub], Gochi, had struck a tentative friendship over these past days. They observed from the kitchen’s shelving, comprised of fresh, cascading herbs and ceramic pots in vast array.

The meek Kang Jae did not lack in attributes, catching the pan with ease. He could, however, not withstand the violent wrenching of Yasodhara’s grip.

“Seems the cultivators of your Clear Sky are pampered sons. Fu, I’d not poison myself with your [Water Qi], where are the Life attributed rations?”

At their dining table, the Fatherly [Asura] gestured airily. Myriad scrolls pasted the table, taking priority. “Kang Jae,” he absently warned, using the tone most natural to him.

“Master Fu, twenty moons have passed since last I cooked. I… I am not unable, simply that the-”

A full sack of rice impacted Kang Jae’s chest, and against [Might] of the [Mantra of Heavenly Plums] he staggered several paces. “RIce is rice. Cook. Even the young Yasodhara took her turn last night.”

There was a sigh. A muttering of “madness. Then Kang Jae pushed his spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose. “Eggs. Sesame. In the west we value bloodied meats, and so I would ask for loins of beef over lighter stock.”

Across their total [Seasons] the personal disciples had accrued materials to feed entire cantons, and depositing these proved no difficulty.

“Mistress Yasodhara, I would ask you provide space.”

She snorted, placing herself across from Fu. “Is there a charted course yet? Or better, a date for my release?”

The question again. A natural one, if a vexation for its frequency.

“Kang Jae, Yasodhara wishes to offer her aid in cooking,” he called, breathing deep of his pipe.

Her appearance was far changed from the [Hollow Trial].

While resemblance to her late father could not be dismissed, now her hair trailed long. Wild, if a flow of clean, raven locks. Gone were Yellow’s markings, for the potent dyes and powders used to mark many had been scoured clean.

Fu distracted himself with this as she transmitted fury through her gaze. “Better to strike such blows on a full stomach, no?”

The chair scraped loudly as she thrust back. “Plum bastard, I’d improve my insight into the jian. Will you spar with me?”

Both disciples met each other’s gaze.

Mirthful.

“It won’t be kind,” Zhu said, setting down his own tome.

A generous space existed at the bow of his new vessel, and it was from here that resounding impacts soon had the framework shudder. Despite the regular, loud interruption of Zhu’s tong fa against Yasodhara’s inherited arts, Fu’s attention held.

Bingbai was generous within his intelligence.

Transcriptions of the [True Orchid Path] were detailed along the scrolls before him. Serpent-branded papyrus that clarified much of the remaining [Imperial Realms], detailing pertinent information on factions, treasures, benefits and Sect interests.

The vexation arose in that no point of egress to the Clear Sky was yet listed on their side of the March of Serpent’s dividing line.

Mridul’s chit drew his eye once more.

“Mistress Samudra,” Fu called, taking it in hand.

Hot oil met Kang Jae’s meats, and through this sizzle he answered in the [Spirit Whale’s] stead. “As before, master Fu, the noble Samudra remains in their chamber.”

A flick withdrew his myriad scrolls, securing all within his ring.

“I see. Then it is poor that I must disturb what rightful rest she deserves,” he said, making to depart.

He did not pass an armory, nor any semblance of his former archives. This decorated corridor held only a dozen individual screens and their quarters beyond. Rooms yet to be designated and those he thought would gain sparse use lest his children were able to voyage with him.

Yasodhara’s was central, and here he cleared his throat in announcement. “Mistress Samudra, I would speak with you.”

No voice returned.

“Apologies, then,” he said, opening the screen to move within.

His passenger’s room mirrored all others with mundane, if well crafted furnishings. Small items for dining, sleeping, and private meditation.

Save that here, Fu tread a carpet of sand.

I feel her grief as if each step might drown me further.

Ambient [Intent] put a great somberness upon his mood as he stole further steps. Sorrow, of a profound and unsettling depth.

Radiating from each grain.

It looked as though desert had claimed these quarters, and Fu sat in the only absent space he could find amongst it.

“Mistress Samudra,” he offered softly.

The sands remained still.

Fu withdrew the chit, having it dangle on its fastened cord.

Orchid tones overcame the room, expanded by Samudra’s grief. A token from her fallen partner was perhaps, as much insult as reminder.

Her [Intent] was a thing to drown him in time, could Fu sit there for longer than any reasonable soul might. But this, of all things beneath Heaven, he knew.

Thus his own pushed out to meet it.

“In the beginning, it is so raw, no? As if you walk in a dream, for you know what has passed can never be real. And yet each breath taken is an agony, scraping clean your insides to remind you that it is not.”

Fu’s [Intent] flowed, invading Samudra’s orchid wash.

The sands cascaded, if slowly.

“When my heart died I thought to take to rage. My Mei would have chided me for it. She was as your Mridul was, I think. Serious and just.”

Her form rose to the height of his chest, and her great eye appeared within. A vastness of orchid iris, deep enough to become lost should one stare too long.

They knew nothing of each other and so Fu offered no palm. Instead, he drew forth a relic. Mei’s douli, placed between them.

“This is the last gift she left me,” he said, his grieving [Intent] having cleansed half of Yasodhara’s chambers. “But in truth, Samudra, it has been remade, bound and mended so often that nothing of itself remains. It can never be the original, for that is only clear enough in my mind.”

Samudra’s wail was melancholic, impressing all that she felt.

“And yet this is a hat. It is not her. Not what she truly left behind. No soul should compare loss, for only a heart truly knows what resides within it, but I was left with the same duty as you hold now. Three souls, in need of guidance.”

The great eye lowered, entering further into sand. “Bait not, [Winter’s] child. The aid given to Yasodhara is not unnoticed. Here is safety in these realms of Clear Sky. She will have me when need arises.”

Fu dipped his head. “A truth.”

Waves of her [Intent] grew darker. Spiteful. “Do not twist my grief. Speak plain. A truth. Spoken as if it is but one.”

“Mridul’s chit,” Fu displayed. “If his lie is as I think, then indeed, Yasodhara’s safety is ensured. Although [Spring] is not so distant from here that [Sixth Under Heaven’s] reach might be discounted.”

Stolen from NovelFire, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Silence fell.

“You threaten.”

His brow met the sands, offering immediate forgiveness. “No, Mistress Samudra. The daughter is safe with me. Safer yet upon our return.”

Greater talents than he might mask how earnest an [Intent] could feel. What truth might be gained by tainting myriad other emotions upon it.

Fu could not, hoping these words rang true.

“And this is guarantee? That your lands hold safety absolute?”

He shook. “No. They hold only a chance.”

Sand grasped the chit from Fu’s hand, suspending it high in the air. Her will pulsed through it, expanding a network of grains that represented sights both familiar and not.

The [True Orchid Path] formed above them, and drawn in comparison from the fragments Fu unearthed from his ring.

There he saw more.

Hidden, and indeed, scattered between the glowing stars of each [Imperial Realm].

More.

A thousand realms of Samudra’s sand, snaking with secret passage between those that were forthright and plain.

Samudra had one enlarge beyond the others. “Our haven. The refuge of [Bleached Blossom Fields]. Here you will find our [Inheritance] and the lie you so seek.”

Once more Fu’s brow touched the sand. “A thousand gratitudes, Mistress Samudra.”

[Intent] thickened as the [Spirit Whale] returned to formlessness.

Fu remained.

“Disturb me no more, [Winter’s] child,” she warned, drawing pain into Fu’s temples.

He merely sat. “Another question, that is all.”

“Shameful snow-blessed. Sand ever shifts, but does not change. [Spring’s] secrets are not to be-”

“Tell me of him, please,” bowed Fu. “I would know more.”

The [Intent] receded.

“Agreeable.”

🀧

The ring to hold Fu’s vessel was another onyx band, reminiscent of his original spatial ring. Inscribed by [Array] masters of the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s central forces, it held his desired properties of Qi suppression as well as another focus not unlike the [Dao of Collections].

A warning spoken among all cultivators and Empires alike told of spatial devices, and the danger of stowing one within another.

In one sense this article prevailed against the previous amulet that held his Wayward Wind’s Warship, for within each room were individual containers of [Spatial Qi], and they did not need emptied upon the vessel’s retrieval.

Kang Jae had commented on its brilliance.

Zhu directed their attention elsewhere, standing as cultivators of the Clear Sky welcomed them through this [Paifang].

“Master cultivators, you enter [Lower Qiang Basin], and the affiliated powers of the Clear Sky extend their greeting,” bowed low the greeting cultivator, one of plump middle and [Spirit Boar] companionship.

Three hundred martial warriors ringed this entrance plaza: a place of scant [Autumnal] trees and recently laid marble.

Diligent. I expect they attempt to weed out infiltrators from the Empire of Abundant [Spring].

Myriad [Arrays] circled this entrance plaza, preventing escape from any direction but that of the constructed street that lay ahead.

With Zhu in attendance, Fu drew in these details clearly, returning to conversation only when his plum-eyed brother lifted a hand. “Don’t waste your breath, this matter will be rectified swiftly.”

Audacity.

The ringed three hundred tightened their grip upon each lax qiang, readying for the trouble these arrivals would surely bring.

“Master cultivator, but these directions come from the ministries of [Lord Thirty Second]. Under the Edict of Clear Sky you now walk within his realm, as you will for three realms in each cardinal direction,” explained the aide. “Please, take this offence out on me, but his will must be followed. Such is the way of things.”

Zhu conversed with Tanshuai, now perched atop his finger. “Offence?” he said. “What offence is there in following your duty?”

A scoff sounded, but few turned to Yasodhara’s impatient stance.

“Master cultivators, by decree of [Lord Thirty Second], I would know your names,” requested the aide.

Here, Zhu’s eyebrow arched sardonic.

“Subtle. A [Secret Transmission Art]. See there, Gao Fu, how one pupil dilates by fractions more than its counterpart.”

Indeed the aide’s pupil had reacted, and what had been transmitted bore fruit with great immediacy. “Forgivness, cultivators. This humble fool-”

“Think nothing of it,” Fu interjected. “May you walk an untroubled path.”

Wary was the look as they passed. A held deference between martial warrior and bond alike, stirring in ponderance as they guessed who these figures might be.

The plaza was put behind them in time.

This realm of [Lower Qiang Basin] held to its name. Firstmost in its existence as a basin, ringed by an overhang of deep orange canopy beneath which the city sprawled, but second for the solitary form of weapons displayed.

[Metal Qi Abundance] was among the features of its [Law of Origin].

Kang Jae put such notes in a small, bound book. “I wonder…”

It was snatched, and its contents voiced by Yasodhara. “Evolutionary divergence in comparative [Metal Qi] technique forms,” she said, thrusting it back a moment later. “Is there truly a market for this? Contemplations and histories? Who’s the leisure to purchase such tomes?”

“Sects,” he returned, shortly. “Perhaps if we held time, Gao Fu?”

Strange, was the lack of death.

Shuidi’s impression was similar. On edge, and ever vigilant.

In an intersection, ilk of any Clear Sky street, Fu turned. “Mistress Samudra, in our talks you revealed the details regarding our destination’s opening. Some few realms over and a matter of several days. Might you clarify?”

A tide unto herself, the [Spirit Whale] flew well above. Her cultivator shared all that they needed to know.

“Six realms. Three days. That’s when we’ll get some semblance of clarity, no?” she scoffed. “When you’ll end this charade of silence.”

The gaze of Kang Jae never quite found that of the personal disciples.

Tanshuai landed on Fu’s douli, conversing both with Hushi and her own cultivator. It prompted Zhu to speak. “I’ve a love for transparency,” he stated. “Yasodhara, Fu’s shared little over your fate, but I believe you’ve leave to roam the Clear Skies once we reach there. To be afforded a chance through the warped, temporary kinship of he and your father. For you, Jae, we’ve to indoctrinate or reap you for knowledge or some other tiresome feat.”

Fu blinked, then could not hold back his laughter. “Brother.”

“My cultivation is of truth. Why walk around mountains when tunnels might do?” he answered. “We’ve faced a saga in [Spring], and this granted free time has my spirits soar. Don’t abuse such a mood.”

Their… prisoners of comfort fielded different reactions.

Kang Jae withdrew, processing this.

Yasodhara spread a feral grin, showing immaculate teeth. “Is that so? Then association with Mridul holds benefit. Let’s make haste to our destination then.”

“A moment,” stalled Fu. “The Heavens, or a kindness of [Karma] have made easy this task. Where we are to tread is under the Clear Sky’s authority. In travel, it will take no more than half a day. There is a brief window for leisure.”

“Leisure?” asked Kang Jae, as if this word was something to be feared.

“Hmm, yes. You’ll come with me, Kang Jae. Black is favourable, but I have dressed in it for too long. These scholarly robes also drown you, and there’s much else I would mend. Seamstresses await.” With that, Zhu began his walk.

In ten paces, Kang Jae had not moved. “I fear… I fear what is in store. He surely jests? Clothes… of all things? A placeholder for more villainous deeds?”

Fu shook, grimly. “Zhu does not joke about such matters.”

The meek cultivator left swiftly.

“And you’ll expect me to walk on this gilded leash?” said Yasodhara. “A good dog doesn’t block the road, so I’ll take my leave elsewhere.”

“Hmm, no. There are things that require your touch. If I might have it?”

Yasodhara edged back a step. “I knew it! Yin-blind fool. You expect I’d warm your bed in gratitude. Filth-minded pig, bastard!”

“Hush, child,” sighed Fu. “I need only your opinion.”

Bring me True Imperials and immortals. Such foes would be a kinder fate than this realm between childhood and adolescence.

There was propriety. Manners. Well-speaking and guaranteed face. When offered, Fu would welcome acts of rowdiness and open comment.

She showed no such regard for the former.

“Listen here, cripple.”

“No, child,” he warned. “No. I will speak as clearly as limpid waters. Know this, and inscribe it well. My vocation is plain, yet you think to test this. Your position is gifted, an extension of the passing relationship I held with an honorable man. But this is a self-indulgence. A brief respite from the grey-dipped clouds of my Path. Forget not, Yasodhara, I do not need it. What qualms you had with Mridul are your own, and yet I see him not in Zhu, in the passing citizens nor in my reflection.”

Samudra descended in a flurry. “Gao Fu, why does pain stir?”

Words of equal warning and curiosity.

“A brief lesson, noble Samudra. If this brings insult then my apologies go only to you, not to the girl that thinks all souls her enemy.”

Yasodhara’s lip quivered.

Impressions no doubt passed.

“My… my opinion. I’d know what you seek it for,” she half-whispered.

Fu led.

Qiang were inscribed in each facet of [Lord Thirty Second’s] realm. Hedgework, if brown-dappled from [Autumn’s] presence, held these trimmed images. The characters upon each stall were of piercing, thrusting and spear. When greater stores came into view, at guard by Vajra and [Spirit Scorpion] partners, the same icon repeated.

This Lord surely chases the Path of Spears, though if it is insight into his clan then it is shallow indeed.

By Shuidi’s signalling they reached a store of interest. One Green Bolt Garments, before which Fu turned.

Though scoured by water and labor, some vestige of a Yellow’s walkway could be seen upon the street’s edge. Here, Yasodhara walked on instinct. A troubled path, for crates and signs blocked every few paces.

“Yasodhara,” he said, softer than minutes prior.

A poorly masked dew ringed her cheeks. “Fu- Gao Fu.”

He swept his arm in gesture. “There are other places to walk.”

So saying, the girl gingerly crossed the street’s center to where Fu stood. “Ways that are long ingrained, they’re hard to cleanse.”

“Habits are cobwebs at first. Cables at last,” he said, crossing the store’s threshold. “A mistake is no bad thing, only the failure to recognize it.”

Samudra hummed, then soared free from this structure of fabric and garments.

“Amitabha,” met a clerk, a diminutive [Spirit Ape] at his side. “This humble merchant of Green bids you welcome.”

A breath passed wherein he caught himself.

“This humble merchant, and no more.”

Fu dipped his head. “We extend our greetings, humble merchant. The fineries of this store are without compare, and we come seeking gifts.”

“Master cultivator has a discerning eye, truly, for these clothes are the greatest within this entire realm. Yes, yes, it would be an honor to offer aid. Might this humble merchant ask first, for whom are these gifts for?” he said, gently ushering the pair further inside.

“For daughters,” Fu smiled. “And another, if she so wishes.”

Yasodhara snapped her attention sideward. “Am I so vapid, Gao Fu? Women wish for more than fine robes, yes?”

The clerk’s eyes glinted as a single upper-grade spirit stone entered Fu’s grip. “You are of a similar age, Yasodhara, and this is why I ask your opinion. Also for wisdom, for once I finally begin to spoil my children not even the Heavens might block me.”