Fatherly Asura

The tournament was set for the cusp of the [Hollow Throne’s] opening, though Yongwu Long had proved sparse with the exact date.

“Around then,” he repeated. “It’s of no concern.”

To see one surrounded by regal dragons, clad in gold-filagree robes upon exotic, night-black fabrics whilst lounged atop a balustrade, slicing a peach within his immeasurably lethal jian…

“You stir my emotions not unlike Feng or Yuqi. If only the negative ones,” shared Fu, shaking his head.

Long grinned a maniac’s grin. “We’re brothers of destiny, no? [Karma’s] blood is thicker than any water. Hmm, but you’re not the sort to come here simply to insult someone. Even if the Heavens will it.”

“The turbulent waters have settled for a time. This tournament, a flimsy harbour, but a harbour nonetheless. This Gao Shuidi would know what Yongwu Long plans to fill this time.”

The douli dipped, and Fu smiled at his sister’s ever-blunt nature. “We have questions beyond this,” he added.

Three dragons impressed their appreciation at this attitude, and descended towards Hushi and her in order to converse. Perhaps their form granted some gestalt of wisdom, or fresh confidence, for their lips had proved tight until now and this was the first his own partners had shown interest in their words.

An arm phased through the [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud] as Long leapt from the wall, attempting to pat his back. “Oh? Haven’t we done naught but talk for weeks now? I crave some form of action, brother. Hmm, I’d suggest doing something useful but the tournament preparations are well under way, and I’ve no desire to measure beams nor the [Profundity] of [Arrays].”

“Then what do you suggest? I still require answers,” said Fu.