Fatherly Asura

These things were more than shambling corpses.

They were vengeance incarnate.

Fu’s motion was ceaseless for no less than that was required to evade their hungering, [Demonic] force as it continually grasped for his [Spirit]. Tethers of oozing crimson string trailed from his every leap, vault and blur, tracking him with such preternatural deftness that one might have thought the [Karmic Ties] between them were sewn upon his very soul.

Much like these fiends, the days had not relented. But prey could not fret over such things.

Time was a luxury.

As were unbroken heartbeats and the chance to breath.

[Wind Phantom’s Breath].

Fruitless mist fumed through the endless mass of corrupted things. Representations, harbingers, spirits or ghosts, it mattered not, only the half-blink of reprieve such an act bought.

Indeed, mist rushed, and they fell upon him once more.

With haste upon his tongue, Fu called his [Dao of Four Horizons] to whisk him into acrid, foul-tasting skies, and the collective responded as though a seamless wave - rising, seeking with their grim and tattered robes a-flap as they soared in pursuit.

His smile did not fade.

“Such danger. Truly, a [Trial] befitting a [Primordial Lord of Tribulations]. Are we not blessed to be so harassed and outmatched?”

Hushi and Shuidi affected their own mirth at the sentiment.

Jian-like claws raked at their shoulder; wrist; neck; arm; gut; [Core]; fingers; and in truth, each part of their ephemeral flesh.

Yet for all its uses, the [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud] did not shield against this.

A purity of refined meaning savaged three gashes along Fu’s spine, bleeding both the physical flesh and his [Spiritual] form, diminishing all he might bring to bear.

His [Dao] waivered.

His [Mind] muddied.

To put into what words the consumption of one’s soul felt like could only be saved for those of greater learning and eloquence. Suffice it to say, the development of a fitting [Qi Suppression] technique was not aided by such ravaging.

But the [Fatherly Asura] would be not be unmade so swiftly.

[Pull].

Fu, Hushi and Shuidi glowed in sinister crimson as his fist tore into the nearest unliving chest, and from this they drew all. Some malign approximation of Qi, flesh, [Profundity] and untouchable energy flooded into their palm.

These beings possessed no inherent defence against it.

One by one, amongst a further orchestra of reaching claws, Shuidi discarded all that they could not use.

The Qi was not of their [Affinity], nor was the flesh of any value. To consume [Profundity] like this was not their Path.

What remained was a fleeting string of [Karma].

A slipping thread.

Over the past days Shuidi had learnt its shape, and now… now it had held for a thousandth of a heartbeat before escaping her pincers once more.

Again.

🀙

Zhu’s [Mantra of Heavenly Plums] gave intrinsic understanding to the forces of [Karma], and the [Dao] that accompanied either his own insight or some facet of his [Bloodline] further trivialized the Path of this worldly force.

[String-eating Soulfoam] was Fu’s answer to his brother’s [Prowess].

Poison.

This, however, was no key to what he sought.

At the first [Season’s] turn he had fallen into such a line of thought. Perhaps he might discharge a continuous stream of this peerless poison, or loose it upon his breath to hide him from [Karma’s] cloying grasp.

No.

Claws raked, swifter now at this turn of [Spring].

Fu lurched a myriad sidelong steps, evading one, ten, a hundred and more as his eternal pursuers plunged for what remained of his [Spirit].

As many as raindrops from a hate-filled sky.

“The foundation is complete,” he voiced. “Let us commence.”

Six arms wove in the fashion of [Array Masters] and [Alchemists], foolishly and loud, yet Hushi’s motions served an equal purpose. The sway of his limbs demanded much of their [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation], binding all gusts - both subtle and grand - into a helical stream about their three forms.

So rose another.

And another.

Sister.

Fu’s internal voice was strained and bloody. “Sister,” it urged.

The [Spirit Crab] sneered. “Perfection cannot be rushed. Since when do the [Primordial Lords of Tribulation] succumb to so meager a struggle?”

Her weave differed from the tireless Hushi’s, and in his mind he heard her will forth the [Dread Leviathan’s Call].

Done not as a domain or eruption, but a mirror of these helical threads.

Thus came a thousand leaps and sidelong steps as subdued gale met refined [Intent]. Fu was merely the fulcrum for these forces.

The origin.

This dance maintained for three days.

Three nights.

For each passing breath there accumulated another hundred [Karmic Ties].

Another mountain of [Spiritual] tethers.

Could Fu glean them beyond the first bite- wherein they faded from sight - he was uncertain if his vision would be clear.

The total comprised that of mountains and seas.

Endless in number.

He-

All the world was consumed in dark-crimson ends. Severed strings that snapped back as if the thousand, thousand heads of scolded vipers.

Grim air rushed to fill Fu’s lungs, and from this wellspring did he drink greedily. What fetid meaning was interred within the winds paled against the freedom of his [Spirit] as the [Karmic] shackles were rebuked.

Shuidi was greatest among them in [Senses]. Peerless. To take a grain of feeling, isolate it, and acclimatize their technique to it…

“Sister, brother, you are truly without equal.”

For the first moment in a [Season] these three souls merely stood. Further breaths were taken as the beings of [Tribulation] ceased their motions entirely, albeit without the confusion one might see in intelligent souls.

The viper-like threads of [Karma] - what he felt now as [Karmic Retribution], wrath or vengeance - wormed from their chests like loose ribbons in a turbulent wind.

Searching.

[Ink] burned.

Yet it was not enough.

Fu bid their newfound technique to lapse.

Again.

🀙

The second [Season] passed into the third.

Despite their [Ink’s] repeated burning, the technique was not yet complete. To lattice wind, [Dao] and [Intent] into a singular form did not come on instinct, and such a failure could not enter their Path.

It took moments to conjure the… dramatically-titled new technique.

[Unseen Immortal Spectral Wind Masking Art]

Fu toiled over the foundation as a jeweller might fuss over filagree and the setting of diamonds, having refined his own [Senses] for the dismissal of [Karma]. While the characters upon his [Ink] read as [Earthly Ascension] and [Middle], he thought this only a reflection of the technique’s complexity, not of true [Prowess].

Now he prowled into the greatest density of the Vengeful Spirits, flickering his technique between activation and not.

His Martial [Prowess] bore fruit from this, but was inconsequential in the moment.

A day passed.

The refinement of his helical strings grew.

Another.

The compression of their [Intent] bore greater strength.

Another.

Another.

Another.

Shuidi fumed when the third [Season] drew to a close. “[Karmic Ties]. What lever do we miss that enables one to touch it?”

“Zhu mentioned little. HIs [Bloodline] would make knowledge of it obsolete. He did not need to know, thus, he does not. Our only solace lies in the manipulation of Qi. Much as the [Dao] are of tantamount importance in even nudging this [Karmic] force.”

Hushi stroked his brow, pensive.

“It acts as the [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation] does. An intermediary. We demand the wind touches and dissuades what we alone cannot. To refine this technique, we must consolidate such a touch. Have it manifest in our flesh or [Spirit].”

In truth, he only spelled out what they had endeavoured to do for these past [Seasons].

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Once more Shuidi fumed, clacking in disdain.

Another day passed.

Another.

The domain of their [Qi Suppression] had grown to that of the [Clouded Ghost Arts] prior strength. Farther, perhaps. As was the equilibrium reached with all that moved in their surroundings. Still, it lacked.

A projected veil.

An outer technique that could not align with their flesh and [Spirit].

Invisible to Qi. Invisible to these [Spirits]. Invisible to [Karma]-

How far will these thoughts wander? Frustration gains nothing, and these [Seasons] will be wasted in complacency should it continue. I see now the folly of this.

“We try to replicate a technique that is no longer our own. All we have gained from our [Dao] cannot be ignored,” he said, and his words blew through the unwitting sea of Vengeful Spirits about them. “Brother, sister, do you recall what once we concluded?”

Eight arms tightened upon him. “We were merely a fledgling wind.”

“Just so,” nodded Fu. “Yet this was before the [Fatherly Asura]. Before claiming our role as [Primordial Lords of Tribulation]. It is time to reconcile what was, what is, and what will be. Let us shed the castings of fledgling wind, and become it incarnate. Our Path is True Change. That of Ever-Shifting Cloud. The moment to embody that must be now.”

Shuidi pushed a roaming spirit aside, gusting air to widen the distance between them. “This peerless Mistress grew weary awaiting this decision. Let it be so.”

“Let it be so.”

The three leapt into an embracing sky, where they entered the lotus upon a cushion of turbulent wind. A mantra fled from their lips, tinting the air in unsubtle gold. “Through strife we are the crisis. Through being, we are the opportunity. As in wind, transformation, as in rain, necessity, united they are the cloud, holding both in promise. Such is the essence of our Path. Such is the essence of us.”

As one, it was uttered.

[Dao of Four Horizons].

All they had manifested raged into Heavenly tempest. A gold-patterned fury screamed about them, fusing the helical threads and suppressed winds into a surging maelstrom with these three as the eye of this great madness.

A vast, primordial hurricane obliterated the surrounding realm.

The Vengeful Spirits.

The Qi.

The [Karma].

It tore as though the Heaven’s own breath was loosed upon this realm. A scouring borne of ancient, impossible anger that ranged for li upon li upon li, claiming all skies and earth without prejudice.

[Pull].

This storm waivered.

[Pull].

Through the [Shrine of Final Skies] and their [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation], the raging tempest began to submit.

But not all.

Certain strands within the storm refused, heedless of the [Fatherly Asura’s] might. That which governed [Karma] were torn in allegiance, for surely a wind that could bring even this force to heel was unworthy of consumption-

“We are crisis and opportunity. We are the dangerous wind,” warned Fu.

“The [Primordial Lords of Tribulation] will not ask again,” clacked Shuidi.

[Pull].

The very will of all winds shattered, becoming no more than a singular cord of singular purpose. Words did not exist to describe the violence of how it entered Fu, Hushi and Shuidi’s [Core], nor the excruciating tear as they demanded it twist within them.

Through [Channels], [Meridians], [Core] and flesh.

Refining.

Tempering.

Melding with the winds of their [Spirit]-

No.

Returning to its rightful place, subservient and equally part-of the vessels of True Change and Ever-Shifting Cloud.

🀙

[Ink] burned with such regularity across the remaining [Seasons] that Fu might have thought his flesh aflame.

Techniques came.

Martial [Prowess].

His [Qi Suppression Art] soared.

Fu Gao’s domain was their [Dao], and so these went untouched.

Indeed he seized the freedom Mubu had granted with the most time-consuming aspect of their cultivation.