Fatherly Asura

An agreement was bound by the [Dao] by the hour’s end, though this was no mere sheathe of papyrus.

As the shade of [Cherry River Spear’s] great [Spirit Tortoise] receded over Jade Songbird Province, Fu watched golden characters scrawl across the monumental scroll that hung before Mingqin’s great hall.

It was no less than a banner, affixed to a gifted pillar of the Ninth’s intricate design.

“For dragons to carry such weight… it gives merit to the notion of factions. Backing and reputation might be levied with the sharpness of blades,” said Yasodhara. “Gao Fu- Fu, it is strange to us. That not all are coloured in Red, Blue or Orchid.”

“Indeed. There are as many colours to wear as stars in the night sky,” he smiled. “Do not trouble yourself, the only one we must concern ourselves with is cherry-hued and disapproving.”

Samudra made clear her displeasure. “Forget not Yongqu Long’s gold.”

He had not.

Another shift inked across the great parchment by unseen hands.

“Immortal Reflections Palace,” read Fu, scrolling his eyes as another signature emerged. “The Twelfth Vajra. Fist of Nine Sect. Interesting.”

Yasodhara knew little of the Clear Sky, despite her efforts. Its vastness was meant to be drinked, not read on. “In what way?”

“Those that know what is at stake will sign this… delay of violence. But they would not do so rashly. Not when considers what other names will appear. The [Cherry River Spear] and [Ninth Under Heaven] are enough to hold back the tide, yet to enter into open contest, even in this guise, is no less than a declaration of intent,” he mused. “A fool guesses, Yasodhara, but we may yet see a rise of hidden hands.”

“Hidden hands,” repeated Samudra. “Your Empire’s Five Pillars. Gao Fu suspects that these factions are granules of the same desert.”

Shuidi had adopted a curious habit over the past hour. As such she hummed before her next words. “Those highest among the One Hundred and Eight that have not been drawn toward ascending their [Heavenly Talents] are not to be underestimated. A clutch from the Warring Tribes and some small hundred independent cultivators might also be valued as contenders. Yet they would enter this tournament at great risk and greater foolishness.”

“How so?”

“Serpents exist, Yasodhara. I do not know whether the [Clouded Serpent Queen] will stir from her seclusion, only that venerables [Gleeful Viper] and [Thrice-Clouded Boa] stand above all others. As for who will claim the [Hollow Throne], well, that is a question for Grandmother Hua alone.”

The young Vajra might well have pierced this assassin’s [Spirit] then, for much understanding flashed behind her eyes.

She asked no more.

“Samudra, let us make use of ourselves,” she said, leaving the [Fatherly Asura] alone to contemplate all that had, would, and might occur.

🀩

[Tribulations] roared across the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture for all that desired change, and the values upon his [Arbiter’s Soul] only rose closer to the ten thousand awhirl there within the assassin’s [Ink].

Hushi, Fu and Shuidi were separate.

Distant.

This much could be allowed, they weighed. Less than an hour in which to realign their thoughts.

Self serving. But on this one occasion, I will pause for breath.

His thoughts manifested in spectral steps. Opportunity’s own wind. Deft and violent. To date the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture could not have known such peerless motion, and in truth it only deepened Fu’s insight into the [Sovereign Clouded Existences Art].

The power of his own [Primordial Law] had reaped such a talent from the Heavens themselves, and Fu repaid this gift tenfold with his prudence.

Or perhaps, his duty.

A lone daoist sat engulfed in mud, sludge-coated to such an extent that none might tell where her skin ended and the buried limbs of her [Spirit Pangolin] began. As to what insight she sought - what breakthrough this pair were at the cusp of - Fu would not pry.

[Tribulation] came by way of hardening earth.

An entombment.

He found no answers there.

One soul among a bloody feast called next.

One [Spirit Bee]. Measly. Defeated.

Misery clotted their [Meridians], and the [Water Qi] that had once rushed throughout their [Channels] had become darker as they crawled about a once-great hive over the beatless wings of fallen kin.

The [Spirit Bear] cared not for his own destruction, leaving but honey-rich tracks for this vengeful soul to one day follow.

Pain and [Blood Qi] filled this [Foundation Realm] insect, pushing him to the brim.

[Tribulation] came as a trial of internal purity.

Yet, Fu found no answers here.

Nor in the next.

Scarce were the truths offered by the enraged Cherry River disciple, ill-able to avenge a tragedy close to Fu Gao’s actions.

Barren was the insight offered by a young, lonesome assassin of the Clouded Courts, desperate to hone his craft after the near loss of his [Spirit Serpent] partner.

For one with the wind’s swiftness, there came a passing of dozens. Indeed the skies of the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture seemed wrathful in the frequency of lightning, flame, or myriad other strokes of elemental judgement.

A whisper had formed on the undercurrent of all winds, gaining greater substance with each [Tribulation] bestowed.