Fatherly Asura

Without Pinxui’s diligence Fu relied on his own scrawlings on all they had observed. A fine practice for his dwindling talent in calligraphy, which was a crow against the rising phoenix of his character comprehension.

His view was that personal disciples should not embarrass their Masters.

Neither should they embarrass their children.

Shuidi’s brush was held between pincers, flowing as though the [Dao of Scribing] or some other esoteric principle had empowered each stroke. It was flawless to the untrained eye, and perhaps beyond if Fu had any basis from which to compare.

The hour neared.

Six realms had been traversed, and from a desk aside his quarter’s windows Fu drew in their destination.

[Seventh Springtide Mire]. A former realm of Green. [True Lord Grade]. Of note are the factions that have ceded control from [Spring’s] Empire. Unlike the previous connecting realms of [Lord Thirty Second] - notable for his domain in the former Four Corners Prefecture aside the Cloudy Serpent Sect, [Venerable Reed Sage] and Lotus Blade Sect…

He set the brush down.

Hushi cycled Qi at the window’s frame, introspective until this pause.

“It lacks in… cohesion. Yes, my reports are not concise. Trouble lies in where we must draw the line between story and fact, or between intended readers. For Bingbai it does not matter, but if an Elder deigns to read this they will say we have added legs to a snake where none are needed.”

Shuidi continued the calligraphy, though impressed her humor well.

“Well, yes,” Fu smiled. “It is excitement. What father would deny that?”

Indeed, the prospect of a reunion with his family had injected him with chicken blood. It had his [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud] circulate with an almost feral, erratic energy. As if the very mists of his being could not contain their glee.

But prudence could not be forgotten.

If Mridul’s inheritance held what he sought: a [Paifang] to lands of Clear Sky, then Fu would be ready for what lay beyond.

Where might it lead? What dangers will block our travel? Samudra would not imperil her cultivator, no matter how little love currently exists between them, but we must be vigilant. The Heavens themselves might conspire against us.

Tangents were growing, and so he breathed. Small slips of conscious thought wound down the helical [Channels] of [Mind], pushed into the space between connections.

The absence between twins.

Wind blew.

His palm extended, tasting the deck’s open air. Abundant in Qi for this realm’s immortal grading.

[Three Wisps from Breath].

Mists pooled from his lungs, replacing all below the socket of his stump. Then, more, as his disciples had great cause to name him as they did. Fu chased equilibrium as his singular arm met three cousins, clasping to begin this duel against foeless space.

The [Stifling Stream Revolutions] danced.

Palm. Heel. Leap. Strike. Twist. Counter.

Each set graduated after several repetitions, firming the foundation of this technique upon each misty arm.

At [False Imitation], he ruminated on its growth.

Need he slay ten thousand more foes?

Fu breathed.

Luo had granted this tome in favor. Without foresight for what his Path might become. Thus it could be a simple answer.

A Martial technique and no more.

His [Stifling Stream Revolutions] drew a path in breezes, intended to arrest a foe’s momentum with accumulated strikes. The [Wind Phantom Strides] bolstered both Hushi and his chain’s swiftness by persuading currents to form where it passed.

What was the evolution of this?

“Surely it is beyond mere Martial refinement.” he suggested, slicing the surrounding wind in twain. “No, we have small potential in this. Talentless as we are. To proceed from [False Imitation] to [Earthly Ascension] requires more than base memorization.”

The hours whiled away, and Fu found himself entranced.

Many were the [Seasons] since he had attempted to consolidate his Martial path, refining these techniques through myriad troubles instead. Those circumstances had introspection prove elusive, for incoming blows and perils took greater priority than the minutiae of his movements.

“The… the [Sky Sundering Fist] technique is measurable.”

Fu blinked.

“The [Sky Sundering Fist] technique hold measurable strata. In conversation you… you spoke of the Lotus Blade Sect. Their primary [Heritage] is [Seven Steps of the Lotus Blade]. A step… yes, a step is measurable progress.”

Kang Jae was without notebook, a finger to his chin. “I wonder Gao Fu… I wonder if…” he began, rapidly closing his jaw in fright.

“No, no,” welcomed Fu. “Please, continue if you would.”

A mite bolder, he did. “All I see here is on the cusp of growth. [Peak], if I am not mistaken.”

Despite the youth’s meekness these words were absolute, evident that he said them only for platitude.

Confidence in his Path. That quality is admirable.

“The Jianghu’s secrets are well-guarded. My martial arts are tome-learned, not tutored by the hand of a master. I am unsure how to progress,” Fu admitted.

Five swift nods bobbed Jae’s head. “Outside the specificity of the mentioned techniques and kin of that kind there are several methods for advancement. Many require pre-requisites of either spiritual or logical paths.”

“Smaller skies to greater skies?”

Jae smiled. “Quite. Though I have witnessed the [Sky Sundering Fist] performed by those of… aspiring talent, seeing only boulders sundered.”

Sweat no longer pooled on a Qi-forged [Constitution], but mortal tendencies had Fu wipe his brow. “If you seek gifts, Jae, I would offer them. If you seek a change of fate,” Fu proffered an empty palm.

“This… this is not my first imprisonment. Neither can…” The youth coughed. “The view this cell offers is novel. No, I would simply offer guidance.”

Slowly, Fu nodded. “Then my ears are open.”

Something half-grand moved Jae’s position. In approach, he widened himself as if in announcement, settling ten strides across the open deck.

[Profundity] massed.

Fu felt it first upon his mind, a [Dao] of powder-like means, and one that probed him in a gentle rush throughout spine and muscle.

“Serene waters show best what reflects above. Broken and stirred, only fooled is the eye, not what rests within. [Dao of Prodigious Mockery].”

Gold washed Kang Jae’s form, constructing a layer of cloth upon him. A spectral douli and familiar hanfu followed.

As did an opening lunge.

Understanding had Fu adopt the lotus, spectating each motion thereafter.

Kang Jae recited all forms of the [Stifling Stream Revolutions] in sequence, thrusting, kicking, bending and shifting as if this technique was second nature. Of [Air Qi], the streams Fu projected did not come.

Clean shoots of tangerine grass flowed in their place, attributed to the cultivator’s [Wood Qi].

An incense stick might have burned before his end, but when all motion ceased Kang Jae heaved a long breath.

Gold dispelled.

“[Stifling Stream Revolutions]. A [Body Cultivation] manual and martial technique in one. I recall its origin as a staple among the Fourteenth clan of the One Hundred and Eight Seeking Vajra. Their [Heavenly Talent] is well aligned to [Air Qi] and its composites: making this technique complimentary to the cultivators of lower standing that serve as martial escorts, guards and other privileged- if mundane appointment,” he mused, lifting his spectacles. “The spectral formations forged by its processes do well in cleansing [Impurities], strengthening foundations for those within [Foundation Realm] or in the beginning stages of [Core Formation], with diminishing results in later stages of cultivation due to the transient characteristics of air when faced with several, or many moons of accumulated toxicity.”

Fu raised a finger.

“Historically, the acquisition of this tome is suspect, for all know the lengths that Vajra clans go to protect their techniques. Yes, it is fitting that the Cloudy Serpent Sect are in possession of such a tome, although it is now clear why one might struggle to instinctively understand the progression from [False Imitation] to [Earthly Ascension]. However one might acquire this tome, without the hereditary secrets of the Fourteenth it would become useless in time.”

Passion akin to Wen Pinxui. To be so invested in a singular Path… Is my Feng so fiery when discussing [Arrays]? A father could hope he does not feel this way about the pipa.

Kang Jae adopted the [Stifling Stream Revolutions] first position, loudly circulating his Qi. “The Fourteenth excel in alchemical refinement. Of their invention is the [Spirit Peaks Zephyr Manifestation Pill]. I…” he blinked, donning his spectacles. “I… [Intent] is the key to progression, Gao Fu. The [Stifling Stream Revolutions] ascend into a [Spiritual] technique in combination with proper application of one’s will.”

Low was the coming bow.

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“A thousand gratitudes, Kang Jae. The dedication to your chosen Path is exemplary, and in truth, I am envious of your knowledge.”

Mortals blushed, and in place of this, the meek cultivator merely flustered. “Ah… I… Few are the occasions where my talents are praised. None wish to know that my replication might reveal more of their [Heritage] or technique than they can. It… I return the gratitude.”

Fu laughed. “Then you waste your talents on the blind. Any Sect would sacrifice nine generations to have you among their ranks.”

The wind blew loud.

“Is… is that-”

“Peace, Kang Jae,” Fu interrupted. “To mirror my brother, I will cut to the heart of things. A thousand, thousand lives have I taken. As many lies were told or as many [Dantians] crippled. Kindness in unforgivable villainy. The [Dao Oaths] I have enforced are ever for secrecy, no more. Know that your heart, and mind, I will push no claim over.”

Odd then, was Kang Jae’s smile. “Cultivators Zhu and Gao Fu. You… I have treated with moon-facing Sects. Assassins and shameful Paths. It is… strange, that you are the first with words I might believe.”

🀨

When led, the voyage became trivial.

Against [Spring] and its forces a familiar sight may well have countered them. Innumerable Imperials of true orchid or Blue, those of [Dao Name] and great standing with [Sixth Under Heaven’s] courts.

Zhu seemed untroubled.

Kang Jae was found to share similar sensibilities with his douli-clad captor, expressing relief that no hordes need be slain to enable their passage.

Naturally, Shuidi wished to drown any unworthies in the sheer might of her presence. And here she was met with profound disappointment.

At their fore, in a canyon of [Poison Qi] herbs and vibrant stalks, Samudra expressed once more for the [Spirit Crab’s] complaints to cease.

“Sister,” smiled Fu. “Not all moments need struggle.”

The impression lingered on struggle, for Shuidi viewed such a word as sport.

“A lacking force of Warrior’s Association cultivators follow us,” mentioned Zhu, comparing a leafy bushel with the hue of his fresh, scarlet robes. “Yasodhara, I’d hear your opinion on this shade. Your Imperial kin work poorly with threads outside their March, no?”

“Of course,” she agreed. “Why would a Green focus on Yellow, or an Orange, Blue? Anyway, I’ve no opinion on it. Red has ever been the lesser.”

Zhu spread a small frown. “Imperials have eyes but fail to see. How blind are those of [Spring] to judge a thing by color.”

The canyon suffered a great rumble, and all looked to Samudra.

Her sandy mass circled about an indistinct, crack-laden rockface. It towered as the surrounding canyon walls did, and through an expansion of both he and Shuidi’s [Senses] no secret was returned.

Why query what will soon be plain?

“Mistress Samudra?” asked Fu.

Yasodhara brushed by Jae, if lighter than she might have in prior days. She spoke in whisper, transfixed on the rockface. “Is that so?” Her hand set down atop it.

Each grain of Samudra’s great form vanished within, entering the miniscule crags.

Still, nothing arrived through [Senses].

Merely a great shift as the very rock split apart after the [Spirit Whale’s] unseen efforts, cleaving the mass in twain so that a fresh path revealed before them. No vast gully or equal canyon, but a space wide enough to hold the glistening [Paifang] within.

Samudra reformed before it. “Warriors Association. I know not this name. But none shall pass without my favor.”

So saying she split once more, parting so that fractions of her sand flew to coat each of the gathered souls.

[Sand Qi] was no less than a natural foil to Fu and Hushi’s state, though he refrained from withdrawing his blade as the vulnerability seeped into his [Constitution].

“Enter,” Samudra called, and did.