Fatherly Asura

[Blackflame Ginseng].

[Cascading Memorial Droplets].

[Melancholy Viper Tincture].

[Eastern Star Derision Liquid].

[Alchemist’s Folly].

[Nine Sublimations Expulsion Sap].

[Extreme Yin Subjugation Elixir].

[Poison of the True Clouded Serpent].

“Ninth Golden Reserve, Auction List, Cultivation Materials, Poisons, [True King Realm] potency.”

The mists rolled from noon to evening and onto another morning.

It was less of a list in Fu’s mind than an obligation, but he found that his nudging of Feng was an appropriate first step of many. Call it repayment, fatherly duty, or the simplicity of making up for lost time.

One part was underway.

Never enough, and yet, a start.

Eighty Seventh Bhandana. A warm sort, ruled entirely by his daughter’s whims. Something I cannot fault him for.

Shuidi had a certain interest regarding the previous afternoon’s meeting. When one’s upbringing contained naught but violence, the concept of civilized mating behaviours were but one of the oddities beneath Heaven.

The [Spirit Crab] only knew to dance.

“Gao Feng must learn.”

Fu frowned. “Many larger powers might hold value in it, but I have always thought it a frivolity. A skill for musicians. Rare is the day that we would need to display it, no? In infiltration perhaps, but otherwise…”

Impressed images came of the [Wind Phantom Strides] and [Stifling Stream Revolutions].

“Martial intent marks it as different,” he protested, then swiftly conceded. “If my son wishes to, I will not forbid it.”

His thoughts went to Yuqi.

Hushi gestured to a row of scrolls, long-emptied from his spatial ring. A grand library in truth, for beyond a screen within their chambers lay a repository of quite vast nature. One of [Arrays] and visual trickery that played host to all the tomes he had acquired across his travels.

For security, he trusted in Grandmother Hua, only minorly considering whether such a trove was more secure in his own possession.

Yes, Yuqi.

The Alchemist's Path was her own.

Ingredients and cauldrons, tomes and techniques. These were among the boons he might grant his daughter. Material wealth could go far. Rare elixirs and [Pills], [Spiritual Herbs] or formations of the [Spring] Empire that might grant myriad opportunities.

“One cannot neglect the existence of exterior means, Gao Fu. The reliance on self and [Dao] is ingrained with you for possessions and wealth might be stripped from those of your vocation. Yuqi’er faces no such peril.”

Fu agreed with the Old One’s wisdom. “Tales speak of divine Alchemists that perform ten tasks with a single turn of the hand. To isolate properties of herbs and material without heed for their rarity and strength. Those that spin legend from base grass. How might we grant Yuqi the first step upon this Path?”

“Leverage connection, Gao Fu. In a serpent’s capital, whose voice speaks louder? Of second note, hmm.” Present in cloud, the catfish cycled their chambers as he pondered. “Disciple Shuidi.”

Under his tutelage the [Spirit Crab’s] prowess had soared, and their relationship ran deeper than either Fu or Hushi could claim. As such she arrived at him swiftly, conjuring liquid poison into her pincer.

“A reagent unique to the Clear Sky. The True Imperial’s [Origin Qi]. It wanes without a means of replication. Its transitive properties when combined with Alchemy will be peerless. Yet, to grant Yuqi’er this would overshadow her studies. Secure it as a reward. To motivate, though she holds her father’s tenacity regardless.”

The three partners drew close, adopting the lotus position.

“Old Master, might you aid in this?”

“The water appears, Gao Fu. No need have I to demonstrate how you might drink.”

Fu settled, chasing his inner tranquility. Amidst the fog of Divine Clouded Mountain each breath was a font of brilliant purity. The [Air Qi], [Soul Qi] and [Water Qi] here rivalled that of [True Lord Grade] realms, drawing him deep into his [Conception Vessel] within a span of moments.

His shores appeared.

His [Constellation Seeds] and [Dao] manifest upon them.

His [Inner Qi], the still waters.

Closer than touch, his partners were with him. Even his form here had grown disembodied. Here, they were wind.

Clouds.

“The turbulence of thunder does not show,” his thoughts shook, projecting across the realm. “Yet it is here.”

Their will brought forth a rushing gale, surging the waters until tide consumed the very shoreline upon which they had once stood. A vestige of [Seasons] past wherein some link to physicality was needed.

[Mind] was nigh complete.

Mortality was half-transcended.

Thus these waters became their all. A teal sky and waters both, holding so vast a purity that no line stood between sea and air, and the clouds were seen both above and below.

Fu had pondered for many [Seasons]. They had come to know water, rain and storm. The nature of clouds.

“Do not hide, our ceaseless change. Show yourself as you are.”

Waves grew.

Thunder warned of its coming. Distant in his teal-rich skies. Precursor to change, be it moons distant or upon them.

Such was his [Heartplume of Clouded Schisms].

The pale wind about them roared, tearing droplets from the horizon that they might become his storm. Growth in turmoil. Adversity.

That which reaped and shifted, his [Hollow Ivory Splinter].

Sun broke, and peace fell upon them.

The tranquility of wisdom. The rest of safe harbor. Calm, as all things were, will be and are, for eternity contains endless changes.

The [Old One’s Whisker].

Last came his quandary, for all [Constellation Seeds] were his cycle of inevitably. Muscles, yes, trained and absorbed, but facets of his cultivation. Spiritual impressions aside the components that dwelled within his physical form.

A cycle held its beginning, its middle and end.

Hushi cast his will to the Heavens.

Shuidi demanded much of the clouds.

Vibrant flakes drifted down at their calls.

Of green, orange, purple, blue, white, red, black, and more.

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Fu’s focus wrapped about the [Hundred Immunities Fruit] and its synthesis. Thoughts of its previous use: the linear process of singular poisons, and how they had broken it over time. To use the True Immortal’s [Origin Qi] as a base, through practice, they could forge its blueprints into myriad other poisons.

Eight within their repertoire.

They could split and craft to achieve their desired effect.

And thus, why not the opposite?

Flakes fell into their vast, teal seas, and rains began. A downpour in myriad hues. The hail fell thereafter.

Swallowed one and all by sea.

Mortals saw only the fall of such vessels. Downpours of rain, of sleet and snow. A cultivator’s eyes went beyond this, and those blessed by [Water Qi] saw more. How the vapor rose from an Empire’s puddles, from the dimmest pool and vastest depth of sea.

Change.

Water born anew in myriad possibilities, in endless range.

Thus his [Hundred Immunities Fruit] was this cycle. This change, shift and memory, to harken the components of one into another.

Fu demanded his Qi, that of purest, highest quality, to ascend into turbulent cloud. What speck was this? [Twin Demon Chrysanthemum Droplets]? [Beggar’s Tongue]? It mattered not. Heaven reduced all, and this Qi was Qi, reforging once more.

The sea reduced with this tithe. Vastly.

To recreate an immortal’s [Origin Qi] was no lesser task, and for it, one thousandth of a part was created for much of his [Inner Qi].

But created it was.

Three partners awoke from this meditation, drinking deep of the city’s mists. Small mental efforts shifted as this nourishment entered each, and upon Fu’s individual fingers there beaded five uniquenesses.

Conjured without vial or reminder.

Pinky. Ring. Middle. Index. And there upon his thumb, the first new creation of the immortal’s sealing poison. Or perhaps… yes.

Their own.

“[Impending Mortality Dew],” they named in concert. “Yes, that will serve us well.”

🀧

A lunch came, and Fu made several observations.

Yuling’s absence was a matter of growing concern, and was not abated by the trust her father placed in her. The Heavens were unkind. The wonts of those outside their family were worse. Only a small assurance by Yuqi held back his itching feet.

So then, observation.

That of Kang Jae. His unusual reddening of cheek whenever An might query him, more so than the stammering youth might normally produce.

Shaokang and Waipi’s flaring nostrils whensoever this would occur.

The ravenous attitude of Feng, who cleared many a plate before conjuring a humorously named [Dao] to hasten his return to work.

Yuqi’s continued relationship with Zhu. How he listened with interest on tales of mortality, mundane happenings and small histories that had occurred since last Fu had visited.

Shaded in the room’s corner sat the last.

Separate from her great [Spirit Whale] that had taken to converse at length with the grandfatherly catfish residing within their home’s central pond, Yasodhara gruelled. Her food was toyed with, more stirred than ingested.

Fu took a seat aside her, puffing his pipe. “Yasodhara, there is more on your mind than this broth.”

“I’d speak out of turn to answer, Gao Fu. My thoughts are of no consequence to you. Return to your family.”

An was the sole mortal among them, and these words proved no difficulty for her to hear. As household manager, she made to intervene on any perceived insult.

Her brother’s hand forbid it. “Gao Fu cares not.”

“Brother.”

Yiji lifted his head from the open screen of their lounge, no longer at rest. His look was of soft warning, as if she interrupted slumber for no meaningful reason. Apparently this spoke volumes where Shaokang did not.

“That may be Yasodhara,” Fu nodded. “Nor have I right to know anything you do not wish me to. Your heart, or Yuqi, An or Paxing’s, these are all their own. My query is through care. If it is not wanted, then I thank you for telling me.”

Complicated were the expressions on her face. “The kindness here is more than I have known in all my moons,” she said, nervous as the room’s occupants turned. “It is cruel, in its way.”

Not unkindly, Fu smiled. “A fool guesses.”

Yasodhara returned to the room’s eyes, for weighty were the eyes of strangers. “No more. I’ve no want to speak of it.” With a rushed bow, she put the lounge behind her.

A brow arched on Zhu, directing Fu’s focus outside. Her walk took her by each outbuilding- each painted screen, having her murmur louder.

“Is this how it is supposed to be?” transcribed Zhu. “Hmm, yes, Yuqi. I’d know more of this Four Tiger Pill Society apprentice. There’s little hope he is worthy enough to speak to you, let alone propose, and so if I must visit him-”

Fu’s heart skipped a beat.

Yuqi swatted Zhu. “Uncle!”

Bingbai would not look favourably on a missing disciple, and yet…

🀧

[Dao of Four Horizons].

Wind unfolded Fu before a half-familiar training area. An open sort, with a ring, banners and a greater inscription upon the surrounding torches that spectators might not have the fog impede their view of any clashes within.

It was quiet at dusk.

We might surprise her with our presence, masking it as a father’s eagerness. Yuling need not know we have misgivings about her absence.

Their first visit had met them with many impassioned youths, all vying for Yuling’s favor. Those of the Martial Path, be they aspiring disciples of lesser, sister Sects to the Cloudy Serpent Sect, or simply cultivators with a wish to spar.

Three such youths sparred in the dying light of the day’s mists. The glow was of a rich, warning red, having the foundational techniques they practiced adopt a dramatic air for all that it devolved into base kicking and punching.

Shuidi prepared to call on them, rising to Fu’s shoulder.

A voice called out. “Amituofo, Gao Fu. It has been a span of many [Seasons], has it not?”

The beauty that strolled forth held a grin to intimidate Heaven, fuelled by a ferocity of step that had Fu wonder if he was about to suffer great injury.

“Sruti,” Fu bowed, knowing to use her title would spark annoyance. “Indeed, it has been many [Seasons]. My vocation takes me far. Are you well?”

Eighteenth Sruti swept a hand to the arena. “With the flames of these young generations, how could I not be? Nigh fifty of them left not moments ago, and only because I demanded their injuries be healed. Divine Clouded Mountain is full of talents, Gao Fu, your daughter among them!”

“I have learned a little of discipleship and mentoring in my travels, Sruti. There are few greater satisfactions than seeing a well orchestrated lesson bear fruit.”

This [True King Realm] immortal darkened. “Ah, then I pity those that were barren. Amituofo. Your vocation is not soft on the talentless.”

Our Qi Suppression tells much, I suppose. Assassins should not walk in the light, but today we are here as a father.

“I failed many,” Fu said simply.

The air above them welcomed Sruti’s vast [Spirit Ray], and for this the three partners granted another bow.

“Oh, you would admit this? Amituofo. I see where Yuling learns her modesty. She comes with this attitude equipped- without the pride that I must scour clean of most. The duality of this perplexes me, Gao Fu, the [Dao] within your Path must be disparate indeed.”

Shuidi scraped her pincers together, approximating a sneer. “The [Dao] that can be spoken are not the [Dao].”

Humor wormed into Sruti’s grin. “Amituofo. As the hermit says. Why have you come, Gao Fu, Hushi? Young Yuling and Nuwang have not visited for a week.”

“For that very reason, honoured Sruti. A father worries.”

The [Spirit Ray] swayed, ceasing the sparring bout beyond. A silent call rushed the three combatants and accompanying [Spirit Ape] partners into their midst.

“Ning siblings, Master Gao Fu searches for his daughter,” asked Sruti.

Triplets of identical feature, the three bare-chested, admittedly apish looking boys scratched their chins as one.

The true apes proved a mirror.

“She rejected our sparring, master Sruti. Not three days past,” said one, ending to have another continue without pause. “Private studies and foundational arts. Nuwang was not in favor of her continuing.”

Sruti nodded, dismissing the three. “The Martial Path encompasses myriad styles, Gao Fu. Debate has raged since the [Two that Do Not Seek] over the king of weapons. A jian, a saber, the qiang, the gun. What do moon-facing eyes glean when a hilt is seen?”

With Yuling’s absence Fu had a thought to abandon propriety. Truthfully, Zhu’s talents with [Karma] could locate her faster than whatever wisdom Sruti might dispense. But he would not sully a relationship with his daughter’s tutor.

“[Heritage] firstmost. Personality. The disciple of a spear Sect with an axe in hand holds no love for tradition. If a jian is first chosen then pomposity might be guessed. Uncertainty chooses the gun, most versatile of weapons. Fools might choose the bow, unless the Heavens have blessed them with talent above all. There is story in each, if one delves deep.”

“What story might the chain-wielding daughter hold?” asked Sruti.

Shuidi clacked.

This time, Fu quieted her. “One of a distant father, or one that has not taught his children well. Might you know of her whereabouts, venerable Eighteenth?”

Sruti looked to her partner, humoured. “Amituofo. To know Yuling, the father fails. Others would cry pride, honor in [Heritage]. Gao Fu does not and answers wrong. This eighteenth-rate martial artist believes him a poor excuse for a cultivator, lacking flames in his blood. Yes. If young Yuling was at practice with her chain, there is a tower secreted away from prying eyes that would serve well.”

“Secreted away, honoured Sruti? Is Yuling of such interest that you would know this?” he asked.

“Small flames, perhaps,” Sruti noted. “Amituofo. Not all students wish for company. Yuling believes it secret, Gao Fu, as do the many that use my lands.”

Freshly aware of city tithes, Fu was taken aback by her words. “Mistress Sruti holds lands derelict for this reason? Her charity is boundless, truly. Where is this tower, if I might know?”

Words came.

[Dao of Four Horizons].

To ride the wind was different from this, for the thunder in Fu’s heart demanded its compliance. Her companions, her friends, they had not seen Yuling in many days. She had not returned home in many days.

Again, the Heavens were unkind.

So he broke upon this tower like a storm’s fledgling wrath, unfolding from wind to shatter stone and debris where first his foot touched.

An empty, serpent-littered expanse stared back. Flush was the ivy that they called home.

Severed.

Dust could not hide that some distress had taken place here. Leaves were cut, and freshly fallen to the stony floor. Footwork had swept dust aside, tracing patterns where… yes, where Yuling had danced about.

But was it practice?

No second set of footsteps accompanied the dance.

Nuwang’s paws had scarcely moved from the tower’s edge, plain to see for any that might observe for more than a moment.

The mist moved above them, gaining all their attention.

Something fell.

Something clinked.

Fu snatched the fallen chain, glaring at the message entangled within its links. “The Sepulchral Saber Sect seeks only your betterment, hated Gao Fu. How magnanimous to offer up your weakness so freely. Come, meet us within [Grand Poppy Hollow], that we might rid you of further mortal connections. We await.”