Fatherly Asura

Those of Twenty Sunrises City’s Clouded Courts dropped all matters to attend to the Fatherly [Asura], and in moments he had stepped through the [Spatial Array] to arrive within Divine Clouded Mountain.

His first breath of the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s capital was deep and enriching, some far cry from the still-thin Qi of the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture. More so that as he stalked the corridors of this chief branch of his Clouded Courts there came no improper whispers on his station.

“Senior Gao Fu,” was both the beginning and end of all interactions, punctuated by stalled movement and minor bows.

They did not fawn or shrink in terror at his presence.

Thus he navigated the tomb-like passages of this branch with undisturbed purpose, escaping to the exterior street and further, into the wind that brought him home.

Such a sight drew his second breath, and he paused before setting his hand upon the gate. “Brother, sister, there is meaning in our return. Let us harden our hearts for it,” he whispered, entering thereafter.

An immediacy of sound reached his ears as the myriad privacy [Arrays] inscribed upon his property were crossed, and no more was needed to ward off [Winter’s] cruel, morning bite.

The strokes of a saber and twinned jian met a golden sheen of flesh as Yuling and Yasodhara clashed with Shaokang atop the freshly fallen snow. Each were an orchestration of blurs against the brute’s nigh impenetrable flesh, striking as he grunted in turn.

“Merciful,” he chastised.

Fu found the sight oddly homely, immediately forgetting his haste as he spectated. While his bare-chested nature was improper, he expected Shaokang was merely being frugal given what the onslaught of these blows would do to fabric.

The pattern of their blades might be mistaken for that of his own. What blows Shaokang weathered were upon his [Core], central [Meridians] and done in such sequence that any target not bestowed a [Constitution] by the [Cherry River Sage] herself would have soon been crippled.

His vision panned elsewhere.

To a stoic stranger stood beneath the shades of his guest-house’s eaves. The Vajra held grace and menace in equal measure, holding lupine qualities not unlike her dense [Spirit Wolf] companion.

A chaperone.

Some wealth of violent experience dwelled behind her gaze, and yet this was only reserved for Ruoxuan as she vividly chatted with Feng and Yuqi upon a fresh set of garden seating.

Twin sensations arrived at once.

The first, a transmitted message. “Master Gao Fu. These juniors welcome your return.All has been well.”

He dipped his douli in thanks before rounding towards the second.

“Gao Fu,” hummed Grandmother Hua, == upon her shoulder. “Hmph. Your return is early.”

The Gao Matriarch did not enter alone, for in moments there puffed a rosy-cheeked An in good health, laden with all the messages her Sage had likely demanded. “Master Gao Fu!” she exclaimed, dropping several steaming bamboo containers and scrolls from fright.

Hushi retrieved all before they had scarcely entered air.

“Master Hushi. Mistress Shuidi,” she bowed, making to drop to her knees.

“Of all time to begin demanding a bow, it would not be in the snow,” smiled Fu. “Do not trouble yourself An. It is I that should bow instead- an artist could not paint a greater picture of health.”

Further rose tinted his servant’s cheeks. “That is too kind,” she said. “Please, come in from the doorway and I shall set the tea.”

Bang.

Yuqi’s hug could break the spine of any [True Lord Realm] body cultivator, so tight was it. “Father!” she cried, and she set him a pace apart in moments. “An intact Father! After the last… We are glad to see you home.”

“As am I, sweet Yuqi. As am I,” he said, cupping her cheek. “A sadness however, as I am only here for as many hours as it takes to complete a task. Yuling, Feng, why do you not greet your Father this way? Do not tell me you have aged one hundred moons in my absence?”

The secondary impacts were more reserved, but no less for it.

Yuling’s head buried into his chest only some seconds before Feng grasped his Father’s outstretched hand. The notion to tease him further before Ruoxuan did cross his mind, but he left his son at an arm’s length to preserve some small sense of dignity.

“My children. Each time I return you grow more wondrous,” he said, finding himself led to the central bridge. For his children’s partners he pressed a brow on each, whispering the same in three variations. “Yiji. Paxing. Nuwang. Blood of my blood. My heart swells to see you.”

Each gave their fond respect.

Propriety held him in further conversation, even as he spied Grandmother Hua’s impatient glare at the open screen ahead. His appearance or perhaps her limited [Primordial Law of Crossroads] spoke volumes for one with insight such as her.

Even still-

“Mistress Ruoxuan,” he met, clasping his hands. “And escort, of course. I trust the Gao clan are treating you both favourably?”

“They are, Master Gao. If it is not too bold to say, it has become a second home of late,” she said, bowing deep, albeit with a smirk. “Feng speaks often on how much he misses you in your absence, I do not know why he goes stiff as [Winter] laundry when we are both together.”

“Oh?” laughed Fu. “Son Feng, have you neglected your training? Mistress Ruoxuan says you have grown inflexible.”

His son’s cheeks reddened. “Inflexible?”

Fu winked at Ruoxuan. “Your father, is he well? This return home is brief, but on the next, perhaps we might share a meal?”

“He would enjoy that, Master Gao.”

The last was Yasodhara.

We left with such haste that we did not put our house in order. Poor, no? That we left with all things unanswered. Let us set aside time for it.

Samudra, her father’s former [Spirit Whale] partner, was notably absent. With such Divine Clouded Mountain’s Qi density as it was, the [Tyranny] on her [Spring] cultivation would be much to bear.

“Yasodhara. I am glad you have remained,” he smiled, lifting a hand as she made to clasp. “There was much left unsaid upon our departure. Forgive me, this is far from auspicious. There will always be a place for you here, for as long as you wish it.”

The young Vajra blinked. “Gao Fu- That’s a strange way to greet someone, no?”

“Perhaps,” he laughed again. “Yet it must be said. Might we talk more on this when Grandmother Hua’s glare does not burn a hole in my skin?”

A knowing look was shared.

Brother.

Hushi unwillingly blurred from Yuqi’s shoulder, dimming his daughter’s laughter as he returned to the douli.

Fresh tea awaited him within his dining hall. The steam was bitter and mouth-watering as it wafted from the central table, obscuring Jinghui Hua’s delicate form. It seemed to take much of her attention. “Bah. I see a glimpse of these turbulent times within you, Gao Fu. One might expect you to make haste because of it,” she hummed. “Hmm. It is however… a glad sight.”

Shuidi was first to clasp, and her command of [Air Qi] filled five saucers with the kettle’s brew as they took up by the table.

“Grandmother, you look well.”

She waved the compliment away. “Hmm. Spare these platitudes. Speak.”

“There is much, Grandmother. Conversations that would, perhaps, be limited by the [Oaths] we have sworn. Time falls like a cascade of water, and I fear that tragedy would arrive before my tongue ceased.”

Hua sipped her tea. “Then sever iron.”

In concert, the three proffered a single limb. A hand, a sucker and a claw that became the cradle of a prodigious golden storm. The lightning forked across their palms amidst a vast and turbulent gale, compressing until all was contained within a shifting orb of [Primordial Law], dancing between all elements.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“We have chosen, and we have travelled. The vestige of [Spirit] atop your spire shared much. Histories, truths and observations that we are uncertain you would repeat were we to ask you now. Forgive me, Grandmother, but this part is unimportant. All that must be said is on the [Hollow Throne].”

To avoid the Hollow Misery, the [Cherry River Sage] had fooled the Heavens themselves. So cunning a soul pieced together much.

“The [Hollow Throne]. Tell me Gao Fu, and tell me swiftly, do these words fly from the serpent’s own mouth?”

Fu shook. “From both a puzzle made clear and from the lips of trusted souls. [Dour Faced Strategist] is among them.”

“Lianse,” hummed Hua. “Gu has not impacted your [Spirit], thus you have not wandered the [Western Demon Front]. Hmm. Ill-tidings. That she has abandoned her eternal war is omen enough. Bah. Speak further.”

“She petitions aid from the [Cherry River Sage]. A thing I swore I would not leverage, and yet-”

“Hmm. No less than this is required when all the Jianghu’s rivers gather,” she returned, finishing her saucer. “Your return signifies that the vestige atop my spire of [Primordial Law] offered no remedy to our plight. She did not speak on the final part.”

“Nothing was shared,” he clarified.

Hua rose delicately, and with a single flick of Qi had the tea within their kettle rise as though a liquid serpent.

What transpired next required no gesture.

The thin stream that hung suspended before her burst into a thousand droplets, adopting a glowing sheen of cherry-blossom hue as they wove into pattern.

Shuidi impressed equal parts wonder and warning, directing Fu’s [Senses] towards the miracle ahead.

Each droplet had apotheosized.

Ascended.

The bitter herb-water within her kettle was no more, becoming an inferno of pure… [Spiritual Qi] throughout these droplets.

“All waters are the Cherry River for those that have dwelled at its banks,” she said, though her look forewarned further questions.

It is the same sensation as when we met the [Cherry River Fool]. An unfathomable depth is held in each part, as though we are back within her domain. A mortal might reach immortality with but a single cup.

Suddenly, Hua’s palm snapped down. The waters gave chase, seeping through floor and foundation alike as they burrowed ever deeper. “Already have you met my [Spirit] within the [Primordial Realm] and this may well have given the assumption that it is halved. Indeed, this is not the case. To return the [Cherry River Sage] in all parts - to begin putting right these turbulent times - you must secure the third.”

“The third,” Fu confirmed, daring to speak no further.

“The third,” hummed Hua, lifting her cherry-bright eyes from the great rumble that was at work beneath his floorboards. “It is… Bah. It is less [Spirit], Gao Fu, and more… heart. Jinghui Hua’s great weakness beyond the one that is lost and the three yet dwell here. Bring my heart to the [Primordial Realm] that one part might become two - this will be enough.”

Jinghui Hua’s heart. Grandmother’s heart? A love beyond that of Feng, Yuling and Yuqi. Beyond that of my Mei.

What rumbled beneath suddenly ceased, and a loud exclamation resounded from his central courtyard.

Hua bid him move.

“Father?” called Feng, now two strides from a gleaming oval of writhing trunks that had risen in the center of his precious grasses. The concern upon his face faded as Fu approached. “What would you have me do?”

“What would you have us do?”

Fu smiled warmly, seeing that Yuling, Yasodhara, Shaokang and even Yuqi had stepped forth with conviction.

“My children. No. My family. My Gao. Do not be alarmed. Grandmother will perhaps tell you more, but this marks my departure,” he said, expanding his [Senses] on the queer [Profundity] that glowed within this oval.

Waters of the [Cherry River] wound within, spiralling with the likeness of a [Paifang’s] screen.

Yiji came to brace Yuqi’s arm as she sank. “Already?”

The saber returned to Yuling’s hilt, and she pressed a soft hand on Yasodhara’s jian to stow them in turn. “We can only dream of the realms our Father treads. That is what we will strive for in his absence. That is our aid,” she said, clasping. “Please, do not worry over us.”

“I will ever worry. Such is my duty. I love you dearly, my family. Time will not be so cruel next time, this I swear,” he said, turning to Hua. “The object I seek, how will I know it?”

Anger. Chastisement. Thirst. Disappointment. Many were the tones of her myriad hums. A skill unmatched below the Heavens, truly, to convey such meaning in a singular note.

And yet…

Hua’s hum sung with amusement. “It is a face you know well. You will see half of it each time you close your eyes, Gao Fu. Mei was blessed for this- to hold the same wonder in her eyes as her father.”

“Her father.”

The [Cherry River Sage] hummed once more, though this emotion he could not place. “The very same. Hold firm your cultivation Gao Fu, you will need it to reach him. That oaf, [Barefoot Emperor], blood of your blood.”

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No [Law of Origin] arrived to splay before his vision, marking this land as part of the… Fu considered it a fool’s guess to say a vista of such splendor might remain in the Clear Sky.

Oddities abounded.

With one foot across Hua’s working the oval of [Profundity] vanished into blossoms, and was picked clean by the wind to be scattered ahead.

These petals danced lightly.

East to west.

Hushi watched in wonderment as they shifted into a more vibrant pink, infused with vitality. Then his thoughts raced as they shifted into [Autumn’s] decay, withering within the space of heartbeats.

In five heartbeats more their health had returned.

So it went for the prodigious field through which they walked. Some extravagance of flowing reeds that seemed fickle in [Season] as they swayed across the steppe. In some moments their bulbs were bright in silver and peculiar tones of sky-blue, and in the next they dried into long-dead husks of their former selves.

“Sister, can you explain this sensation? The thrill within our [Cores]? I feel neither [Tyranny] nor the blessing of our [Season] and yet we have crossed no [Paifang] nor ingress to a [Spiritual Realm].”

The [Spirit Crab] was at a loss. “Such a mystery is beyond this Gao Shuidi. The [Seasons] here act of their own accord. Her peerless [Senses] detect only that the change comes from within. As though each leaf, reed and blade of grass are… untethered.”

Untethered.

Grandmother Hua’s instructions were sparse. They did not detail where or by what power they might have this [Barefoot Emperor] - this grandfather to his children - return to the [Primordial Realm]. But neither did she explain the difficulty, the locale or dangers such a task might entail.

Gently grazing [Spirit Deer] roamed the fields about them, distant and curious. [Wood Qi] aligned they were certain, for the foliage upon each stag’s antlers and the distinct feel of their [Cores] were a clear indication.

So too did they shift.

First noted were the wreaths upon each horn, behaving much as the petals, reeds and grasses. Second was the fur upon them; or their scale; the presence exuded; the radiance of their Qi; and more.

The [Seasons] shifted within them.

Fu roved through further, ranging within some twenty strides of them. “Noble beasts,” he met, lowering by a hair.

Many brayed in return, returning their heads to graze.

Birds swept by of this ilk.

What small [Spirit Fish] played in a low-running brook.

The lone [Spirit Panther] idly licking his pads.

Some hundred variations ebbed about them. A chaos of myriad parts that, even so, assured Fu of a strange harmony.

[Half Cloud Step].

Farther.

The three ghosts blurred deeper across these peculiar steppes, cresting hill and plateau with a growing sense of peril. Whatever wonder affected these lands was a certain danger, this much was clear as limpid water.

An hour and many hundred li were crossed before they stalled upon a mundane hillock, granting view of further, horizon-reaching reeds.

As did something crunch.

On the near horizon roared a beast of inordinate scale. One of cloud-piercing height that quaked the very ground upon which they walked. Fu leapt skyward, placing a foot upon the wind to steady himself as all things began to shift.

The earth was rising.

Folding inwards.

It was... standing.

Hushi impressed a jovial sense of dread as the supposed beast lifted the skyline, revealing that it was in fact the head of a world-breaking [Spirit Gorilla], quaking at the fresh disturbance upon its chest.

The beast rose, and rose, and rose, standing until a city-sized depression remained where it had lain, colouring an impossible outline of mud within the reeds and hills.

More remained beneath, and yet, for a moment Fu had believed the very world to be naught but this creature’s flesh.

“Brother, sister,” he said, a mental finger upon his [Dao]. “Is this to be our first [Trial]?”

Like the rumble of a thousand collapsing mountains, the titanic [Spirit Gorilla] rolled over, loosing a great and terrible snore before it set itself to sleep once more.

Fu could only laugh. “What land of mystery have we come to?” Indeed, for all the rowdiness his [Senses] gleaned no disturbance from the local beasts but that of a small flock’s rapid wingbeats.

Even these swiftly resettled, roosting upon its mountainous ear.

“Harmony,” spoke Hushi, presenting the rarity of his voice. “Free from troubles.”

“Indeed. It seems free from violence.”

Shuidi tapped a pincer against his [Core]. “Be observant, brothers. We did not draw more Qi to replenish [Half Cloud Step’s] deficit, yet our [Inner Reserves] are full. This place is free of cost,” she said, blasting [Air Qi[ through Fu’s flesh. “As is it free of harmful sensation.”

The [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation] confirmed this, for all the ribbons about them proved slack and doxy.

As if unconcerned.

“Let us take care not to be infected. This sanctuary wars against prudence. One might be swept into the current of such peace.” He stroked his whisker. “A cruel trap indeed.”

Something clucked.

Each morsel of the Fatherly [Asura’s] being nigh froze in abject terror as he gleaned a mundane [Spirit Cockerel] upon a small rock ahead. But this was not the sole source of their sudden distress.

No.

That was the callous-thick hand that had suddenly plunged into his ephemeral flesh, wrapping its fingers around a too-solid [Core].

Fu’s vision darkened as he raged against a body that would not respond. Against [Dao] that could not come to his lips and [Arts] that were no more than fleeting dreams. “Who?” he crackled, losing all command of his voice.

“Strange,” laughed the hand’s owner. “I didn’t take you for an owl. Worry not friend, worry not, I’m just cleansing you of those little poisons. It’ll all be over in a moment.”

The cockerel crowed, barely masking the sudden rip of Fu’s [Core].