Fatherly Asura

The three-made-one shattered.

But wind did not break.

When tides of annihilation reduce them to specks breath, they gathered as a resurgent breeze.

A third attempt failed. A nineteenth. A four hundredth and second.

But wind did not break.

Each time the sky-serpent reduced them to naught, the three-made-one ascended with greater haste than the last. No longer did they chase the [Dao] of [First Pool] insight, nor the [Second] or [Third] for the hegemon’s authority could not be disputed.

These winds flocked without command.

“The sky’s dominion is eternal,” sounded at the seven hundredth cycle.

“The sky’s dominion is eternal,” sounded at the two thousandth.

Ascension.

Struggle.

Transformation.

Shattering.

Ascension.

Fu’s [Spirit] was no more than fractured ceramic.

Once more.

Such was his mantra.

“This Gao Shuidi will have it submit.”

Hushi’s will was resolute.

Ascension.

Struggle.

Transformation.

Shattering.

Once more.

“Youngling!”

The Old One’s ire gave pause to all. From lidless eyes did the three-made-one blink, shocked awake by the sharpness of it.

We have lost reason in this clash.

Even the prideful Shuidi reflected on their actions, embracing the myriad winds they had reaped in this cycle’s rebirth. Concessions from the endless barrage that whirled about them with [Fourth Pool] insight.

“Too deep have we tread into conquest,” admitted Fu. “The sky-serpent’s will enforces this Path. I feel seeds of it within our [Spirit], impregnated through these myriad splinters.”

Shuidi fumed. “It seeks to corrupt us.”

“A thousand moons could be spent like this. Warring until it receives its prime [Inheritor] and we are all the more broken for it.”

The impression from Hushi came clear. “Father and [Asura]. Hegemon and assassin. One thing is not all things.”

So they rose.

Ascension.

“The sky’s dominion is eternal,” sounded the unceasing taunt, loosing its Struggle.

[Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation].

Disgruntlement thundered from the sky-serpent as the insignificant breath it sought to quash vanished into naught.

Transformation.

Thus came the whisper from origin unknown, spoken by a wind it could not see. “We are the [Hegemon of Pale Mists]. The Fatherly [Asura]. True Change manifest. Those clad in winds to ever flee your grasp.”

As though a world unto itself this sky-serpent thrashed the realm with motion. Its great maw turned and the impossibility of its coil shifted to reach this whisper’s source. Winds gathered from across its myriad horizons, drawn forth as willing sacrifice.

Yet on the periphery the lesser [Dao] vanished. Were such directions of concern to an existence such as the [Lonesome Wind God], then east became a thing of absence and west, south and north lost many a gale beneath his notice.

The [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers] had ascended, and the three-made-one had failed to retain its meaning.

Ascension had blinded them - deviated them from truth.

How foolish.

Ceaseless battle was another’s Path. Conflicting wills. Sunlit challenge against no less than a God.

Now they no longer hid behind the breeze, but ordained that it carry their presence. To spread that it might only be gleaned by the hegemon’s will.

No [Lonesome Wind God] was counted among this number.

Heaven’s wroth grew a tempest and indeed the three-made-one were within its very fabric.

A domain within the sky-serpent’s own.

“Conquest,” it roared. “A conquest unseen!”

Novel [Intent] stormed from the devastation’s epicenter. This, a jubilant force. Something tentative and gleeful, resonating from the sky-serpent’s [Dao].

“Acceptable.”

Shattering.

🀦

[Spring’s] Qi washed over him like a rejuvenating wave, darkening Fu’s mood considerably as he emerged into the open skies of the Clear Sky Empire.

The dissociation between sky-serpent’s trial, spiritual realm and all they had endured had his vision sway.

Hushi righted him, expressing his concern at the current [Season].

Be it the [Spring] two [Seasons] from his departure, or myriad more, the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture appointment was already underway. They were in breach of duty, casting great shame on both himself and Bingbai.

“Brother, sister, we cannot indulge any further in this trial. We have many hundreds moons over which to complete its remainder,” he said.

But Shuidi saw this matter differently. “This Gao Shuiidi would ask forgiveness over permission. Master Ban will scold us for returning empty-handed. More so than returning beyond when we were to return.”

Accumulation was their Master’s Path.

“Just so,” Fu grimaced.

True breath reinvigorated his faculties, drinking deep of the ambient Qi. The [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation] held a bounty to be consolidated, but that was a matter for the [Seasons] ahead.

Thus they turned to a star unlike any other.

All that had comprised the [Lonesome Wind God’s] shrine now collapsed into golden gales, swarming a colossal orb where the throne had once rested. From pillar to ribbon, ascent and marble, all rushed to feed the forming [Constellation Seed].

A thing of peerless worth if this is all that comprises the trial. And yet, is one treasure all that makes a Martial God?

With confidence, Hushi’s arms grasped the [Constellation Seed] and drank deeply of its surging power. Oceans drew into their [Spirit] moment after moment without cessation, inscribing memory and ability both as it passed.

Images that would take many moons to parse.

Yet so came strengths as intrinsic as breath.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.