Fu’s eyes could not lift. They could not close, nor focus. Colours tread across one another as formless shapes against white, and the sounds. To the fisherman, it was but a pitch. A struck gong reverberating.

Even Hushi was muted. Slumped and boneless upon his head.

To sob, as he felt was right, he would need to break this facade of togetherness that he forced outward. A farce, in and of itself, given how flimsy a grip he held, and it strained against his need to grieve, to curse and succumb to a worthy cry.

Thus it brought the compromise of his stillness, and he found it fitting substitute for both, as this was all he might manage without shattering.

🀨

The moment came with a tug upon his wrist.

Gentle, calloused fingers that wound once, and then twice. A third and fourth set came by his hanfu, shared by the fifth, though from his rear.

Smaller fingers than Mei’s.

Coarse.

But warm.

For the first time since his arrival, Fu blinked, finding his eyes as dry as bone. An instinct quivered through him at touch, and were he not so spent, the chain may have unspooled.

“Father,” said Yuqi.

“Father,” chimed Yuling and Feng.

“The fool returns,” sniped Grandmother Hua.

Weakness embrittled his knees to hear such fantasy as his children’s voices might provide, and he slumped dangerously close to a sideward railing.

The presence of which had gone noticed.

His solitary, unbroken arm dragged in close, clutching Yuling in his grasp, and Fu dropped to the floor.

The children rushed him, unaware of his pain, though so too did he ignore it. Warmth of both their bodies, and of his heart pushed this aside, lending him the strength to scoop up Feng alongside.

“My children,” he gasped. “My children.” From behind, Yuqi piled on, her arms around his neck. “You…”

At an arm’s length, Fu patted their faces, turning between an embrace. He raised them up, he whirled them around in turn, checking for injury. Each inspection had him pull them back tighter, undecided and unwilling to have them part just for his concern.

Tears were rampant, and their voices broke in muffles and rapturous cries, buried in his every fold. It became a wet and joyous affair, in which Fu welcomed every trail of snot whole-heartedly.

A stamp came from Grandmother Hua’s cane, rapping upon a wooden floor. “Your father is injured, allow him to breathe.”

Fu only drew them closer, shaking his head. “Breathlessness is a far fairer fate than parting,” he answered.

“Come, Gao Fu. Let this Grandmother take the measure of you.” Command entered her tone then, and by reflex, the children parted.

Distance granted sight of their garments, tunics and trousers, and of a quality that matched his own hanfu. Their presence had revitalised him, though still the notion to question this sight could not surpass the sorrow in his heart.

He remained upon a knee as Grandmother Hua tipped back his chin, prodding her cane to lift portions of his body. Last, came the touch to his chest, where the [Three Eyed Spying Array] rested in obscurity.

On this, she hummed, her cane returned to the floor.

“[Body Cultivation], and you are beyond the first [Node],” she mused. Somewhat gentler now, she looked upon his [Ink], her eyes tracing the pattern. “[Dao], and a measure of [Prowess]. Do you wish to shock this old heart into stillness?”

Studious, weighted eyes held his gaze as Fu rose, piercing him as though she knew all that he had experienced within the [Mystic Realm]. For a measure of understanding reflected back, between an accepting, wrinkle-set pair.

“Gratitude, Grandmother.”

Hua scoffed. “The [Paifang] has not turned you feral, in manner, at least. Do what you must, and then I will have you wash. Few days remain until [Autumn] is to end, bringing with it the path that we must now all tread. To do so reeking of death and fish is shameful.”

How I have missed her insults. Truly.

Finding himself to ponder on what he must do, by Hua’s words, Fu only blinked, taking in his first full view of the area.

A secluded balcony that protruded from a building of enormous scale. Curved eaves, traditional in feature, stemmed from stone walls inlaid with serpents. Purple in colour, and regal, matched by the finery of carpets across the wooden floor.

Or perhaps, deck, might be more apt. For Fu knew a boat when he saw one, and of this he was certain.

Where he stood granted the vessel’s scope, and he saw that his balcony was but one of thousands, and that this floor was too, not alone in number.

Yet gawking was not his must, and he returned his sight from the ruins of Thousand Shore City, moving it skyward. “Children,” he said. “Gather here.”

Obediently, and still streaked with tears, they arranged before him.

Fu lowered his hands, sharing a thought with his partner to emerge from the douli, which peeled back to show Hushi in full. Nerves rebounded in their link, trepidatious from either party, and he lowered arm by arm.

Of his children, Feng raced forwards first, his enthusiasm stopped only by a palm. “Father, you are a cultivator now?”

The question, for reasons unknown, pulled something to catch in Fu’s throat. A moisture willed itself to the base of his eye, never casting, but there all the same, and he struggled with any reply that might be adequate.

I... cannot trouble them.

Tentacles then wound tight enough to pain but one of his fingers, and before he might lose himself, Hushi helped him to recover.

“This noble [Spirit Beast] is Hushi, and your father owes him his life.”

Yuqi and Yuling made forward, pressing their brother into a bow. “Uncle Hushi,” the former spoke. “We are in your debt. Our father is our world, and you have preserved it. Gratitude, a thousand times.”

Blinking, as though some aged dust was trapped beneath his lids, Fu felt speechless.

When… when did my children grow to such height?

The formality shocked him, as did the availability at which Yuqi’s words came.

Perhaps, he thought, the lack of grime had cleansed their illusion of youth. Or perhaps their fine attire added a weight of age.

Fourteen moons each, with minutes between them. Yet here they bowed with the grace of seniority, bringing him to wonder if this ordeal of Cloudy Serpents and death had forced them to age beyond their years.

But he knew this was not the case, and it was mostly likely that his eyes had refused to regard them for the marvellous young people they had become.

“Father,” addressed Yuling, and his thoughts broke to see Hushi upon the deck, feeling at her chin.

“My Yuling.”

“Uncle Hushi is pained, and covered in grime. Might I aid in his bathing? I think it is the least we may do to repay him.”

Fu scored teeth upon his lower lip, overcome with emotion. Raw, and oppressive, from many a source. Qi too, circled his [Dantian], unsettling him further. “If Hushi-” A single pass of assent had him smile. “Hushi is willing. Be gentle with him, Yuling. He is as fierce a [Spirit Beast] as any, but deserves no less respect in care than an Elder.”

To his middle daughter’s credit she allowed the octopus to ascend, squirming little.

“Children, you will be mindful,” warned Grandmother Hua, and then she levelled her cane towards Hushi. “And you, rest well. Feng will deliver you to us when Gao Fu has finished washing free his own grime.” Her cane stamped the ground with finality, dispersing the children from the balcony.

Ignorant of this vessel, and their situation, Fu placed great trust in Grandmother Hua and how she allowed his family to roam free.

Again their gazes met.

“Follow, Gao Fu. I will lead you to water that you might remove the filth from your ears. Much will soon be said, and if injury has not removed your memory you will know I am not fond of repetition.”

🀨

Fragrant herbs floated in the now tepid bath water, spiritual in nature, and long since emptied of their innate [AIr Qi]. Such properties had mended much of Fu’s body, and that of Hushi as he had joined him later.

But still, he found himself unmoving. Gazing only at the paper screen that crossed half of what constituted as his lodgings, and the common serpent upon it. Of the room’s three occupants, it was the only soul that travelled freely.

Unencumbered by the hollowness of recent weeks.

A count of hours were spent in this tub, during which Fu had undergone a great deal of reflection. Compressing every ordeal into such insignificant specks that they might no longer trouble him.

And he found that he could. For that that was no less than his family deserved.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Pushing out his final sigh, he swept the moisture from his face. Choking as he tried to move once more, and started the serpent ahead.

Hushi maintained his touch, cast upon his shoulders like a watery cloak, and Fu embraced this comfort. “Do you think me selfish?”

His Bond answered in neither word nor feeling.

“That I think now of Mei, yet gave little thought to your own young?”

The reaction continued.

“I- I would have enjoyed their meeting. Mei, and our family. Perhaps I owe my return to her, and almost in equal part to the debt I hold for you, Hushi.” Fu’s chest was tight, and similarly his [Dantian] felt burdensome despite the replenished Qi within. “Such haste was taken in her death that I cannot believe it. These disciples. No. These executioners. What separates them from the brigands we faced? I find little.”

One tip inched down from Hushi’s arm, swirling the waters.

It was a first for Fu, but he snarled, exasperated.

Beyond his feet, the serpent dropped from sight at this sound, slithering off. “We are here, among them. Returned to family, yet-” Curses flew freely from his mouth, and his Bond corded tighter. “This weight is too heavy, my thoughts stray like a meeting of currents. But the call comes, and we must answer-”

“Make yourself decent, fool,” Grandmother Hua remarked.

“-our duty.”

🀨

The flickering tongues of serpents were a match for the hissing of the teapot as it was brought to boil.

Though these beasts retreated as Grandmother Hua removed it from the heating instrument upon the table. Qi, of a nature similar to Fire, dispersed at her touch, if not of her own making.

As was proper, Fu poured his elder’s cup first, and upon seeing her muted approval, filled his own.

A bitter scent wafted forth, though not unpleasant.

“Gratitude,” he said. “The tea smells wondrous.”

Hua inflicted a weighty stare upon him. “Your new masters provide this, Gao Fu. Or do you think that I carry a teapot within the folds of my hanfu?”

“Of course not, Grandmother. Apologies.”

In her usual way, she hummed at him dismissively. “First, I will commend you on your survival of the [Mystic Realm],” she started. “But to include a debt of five was folly. Presumptuous, to assume that I might have needed your aid.”

This comment hung in the air, with Fu unsure quite how to respond.

Previous showings had revealed that Grandmother Hua was no greying woman, consigned to the onset of senility as many others of her apparent age. Her past was her own, and Fu was not one to press such details from her, but this statement seemed incorrect to him.

“I sense that you doubt this, Gao Fu, having now stepped onto the path of Heavenly defiance yourself. Scour any notions you have of this, and so too, must you scour what you think you may know of cultivators from your memories of the last [Season}. When I told you that the fools of the Azure Shoal Sect merely played at cultivation, this was no lie. Frogs in wells, where these wells themselves are but puddles.”

Perhaps absently, Fu’s eyes went to the [Three Eyed Spying Array], hidden within the centre of his chest.

Another hum was sent his way. “A thousand more cities are to be treated in the manner as yours. For now, rest in peace. That insolent fool, Gon Ma, will not reach you swiftly. Nor would that young upstart dare interrupt my tea, if he knows what is good for him.”

What heat had been gained from his path suddenly left Fu, replaced with a chill of sweat upon his spine. “Grandmother… I might ask-”

“You might ask nothing, Gao Fu. You will listen, and you will answer, but you will not ask. Do you understand this?”

Defiantly, Hushi flopped down between the barrier of Fu’s arms, glaring.

[Intent] spilled from Grandmother Hua, and in that moment both felt as though the world itself bore down upon their shoulders. “Your Bond is valiant, but the egg of a fowl does not last long in the lair of a dragon. Know your place [Spirit Beast].”

The pressure increased, leaving Fu to gasp. “Grandmother! You will stop this!”

To his surprise, it suddenly abated. Leaving a thin crack of a smile in the woman ahead, who only hummed.

“You wish for this to stop? How bold you have become, Gao Fu,” she smirked. “Where was this when your children lived in squalor? When my beloved Mei was taken from us, and you challenged nothing?”

Where does this come from?

A rage boiled over Fu, bringing both his palms to crack down atop the table. “And where was this strength of yours then? You lurked in shadow, a cultivator, prone to miracles! Do not speak of her as though she was beloved, for none with such power as yours would have allowed her death to pass!”

Grandmother Hua wagered an infuriating smile, further inscensing Fu with her silence.

“And squalor? My children may have wanted for riches, but not for love, nor for food!” A force spilled from him then, turbulent waves of anger that struck out like compressed air. “Why now do you ask me of such things? Their future was buried the same day that I buried my Mei, yet I still strove with all my health to deliver a better one!”

Across from him, the elder raised a calming hand. “Simmer, Gao Fu. Father of my grandchildren. I have a taste of your suffering now.”

Fu scraped his nails across the wood, drawing fingers to fists. “You have-”

“Simmer,” she warned, and something within this tone gave him pause. “One who follows the path of [Mind] may raise their [Intent] upon first bonding. Common knowledge, or so you shall soon discover. Others, [Spirit], [Body], or [Harmony], achieve this far later. But when a soul is forced through great turmoil, this too grants access. Such as you have just so unbecomingly unleashed.”

Intent? She has baited me into discovery. As though-

“You think me callous, Gao Fu?” Hua continued.

In the space of seconds, Fu dipped his head, calming Hushi as he replied. “I think you Grandmother.”

“Well spoken, for an oaf.” A long draw of her tea was taken. “Look around you, and tell me what you see.”

There was a sense of confusion, but he did so, seeing nothing out of place. He supposed that her nature as cultivator intended this to be a teaching moment, involving the same meaning he had faced in the [Reliquary].

A hidden truth that Fu should glean.

“Snakes wind in this room like rats aboard a ship,” he replied.

Hua hummed her disapproval. “Heating the tea once more will spoil its taste, so listen, and listen well. As it stands you are no better than a slave to the Cloudy Serpent Sect, yet the room presented to you is twice as many paces wide as that leaking vessel you subjected us to and called home. My grandchildren live, and only in half by an extension of my own grace. Open your eyes to this, Gao Fu.”

“Forgive my simple mind, Grandmother.”

Before speaking she demanded more tea, which seemed to be the only pleasure she held in this conversation. “Your simple mind must no longer be so! Really, oaf, do you have no imagining of the scale of things? Once [Winter] dawns the Cloudy Serpent Sect will place Thousand Shore City to the rear, and with it, claim the debt upon you. Recall, Gon Ma set the [Spirit Cores] as precursor to the true tithe owed.”

This, Fu knew well, but hope lingered. “Will the care seen here not extend where we are to go?”

“Care? This is what I try to impress upon you! Supposed finery in lodging, in meal, in tea. It is below less for a force such as your hosts. Where we are to go, even the fishermen are cultivators. Yuqi, were she raised within ten thousand li of the Cloudy Serpent Sect, would stand at peak [Core Formation] already. Sweet Feng would bleed himself dry to even glance at an outer disciple, so celebrated are they. Do you see yet, Gao Fu? How great their strength is that even insignificant trash may be treated, in your eyes, what is better than you might dream?”

He pondered on this, in his simplicity. To have returned was fantasy enough, and he searched his memories for something he might compare her words to.

Splaying the image of the colossal [Spirit Serpent] that had destroyed Thousand Shore City across his mind.

“If this place, and this effort, is provided for those who are disregarded…” Fu found himself gripping Hushi’s arms, which was responded to in turn. “How would Gon Ma have me repay this debt of lives?”

For the first time, Hua did not show her disapproval. “In whatever manner is deemed fit. A life should not be so freely traded for those who lack power, yet the deal is struck. I say this not to scare you, but in preparation. His commands are [Tribulation], each, and those you must now answer without a shadow of doubt.”

Again the [Three Eyed Spying Array] preyed on his attention. “Then I must only work until this debt is cleared.”

“Fool. Do not speak so impetuously, for you have no idea of what you say. A debt owed to you, and a debt owed to true power. This is the difference between Heaven and Earth.” Hua traded kindness with him then, sharing a look with Hushi. “You are named trial disciple, which is curse and solace in equal part. Crisis is but opportunity riding the wind, and here you may find the tools to eliminate your debt. But they will be hidden. Buried among vipers, among true clans, in politics, in instruction, in missions and in violence. Do you believe yourself capable of this, Gao Fu?”

The sound of this was very unlike fishing, and for this reason, Fu could not produce an immediate answer. “I am lacking in many ways, Grandmother. This world, these paths. Would that I could be rid of them. My modest skills amount to casting and rowing. Better used elsewhere, not in Sects.”

“Oh,” hummed Hua. “Would you then rejoin the nets upon the water? Dying before your debt is repaid, only for it be passed to your children?”

The earlier irritation rose again in Fu, and he felt it alien to now come so regularly. Thus he stole a breath. “If this is squalor, then it is a thing I would choose for my children. With Hushi, I am confident we will rid ourselves of debt.”

“Choice. No, I should think not. Did I drag my weary bones here to offer you what you might discover already? No.” Around her, the Qi shuddered, as if fearing her next words. “As stated, crisis is but opportunity riding the wind, and here stand many. My precious grandchildren are all that I have remaining of Mei, and they will not suffer, Gao Fu. Mark my words. Not at the hands of inadequacy, this, I swear upon my [Dao].”

[Dantian] quivering, Fu felt the room’s air thin.

“[Karma] binds us, as does blood. So for this I will direct you: To survive what you name as ordeal, one must rise enough to make the Heavens themselves shudder, or one must sink low enough that they escape their notice. Your children will be the former, Gao Fu, and I will see to it that you wipe free this debt so they might attain it.”

The force at which Hua’s words spilled had him unable to draw his eyes from her, and no longer did she appear as the aged woman of memory. Her presence clad the whole room in power, and in fury, as though he shared tea with some primordial beast.

“If I am to choose otherwise?” he asked, bordering the defiant.

“Fool. Neither I, nor this Clouded Serpent Sect will afford you such luxury.”

Though he may have imagined it, he found the [Three Eyed Spying Array] grow warm upon his chest. “Then I am to remain their pawn, and yours.” Beside his nose, the muscles twitched with the makings of disgust.

I must say no more, or risk the ire of Gon Ma and his Mistress.

For long moments he sifted through Grandmother Hua’s words, conflicted.

In truth, he was unsure exactly how he felt.

“I will refrain from speaking my thoughts, for my children’s benefit,” he finally said. “But- Always have you treated me fairly, Grandmother. My heart is heavy, and my head is pained with sorrow, so I will now beg forgiveness in permission’s stead. You are beyond the picture of a simple elder that I knew, thus I will… I will allow this.”

Hua scoffed. “Allow?” A tirade hung on the edge of her tongue, yet quieted. “Had another said this I would correct them, and swiftly. Though strangers we are not. Allowance is no last word for you, my dear oaf. No defiant clutch at retaining face. In future, untwist your words, lest it be your downfall by the acts of one less sagely than I.”

“Gratitude, for your understanding Grandmother. I mean to say that if this…” Hushi granted a reassuring squeeze. “If cultivation is the path forward for my children, and best among others, then my support is yours.”

The mounting pressure of Qi drew back, as did Hua’s weathered appearance. “Swear it then, Gao Fu. With your [Dao] as wager, and with [Dantian] as binding. Swear that you will defy the Heavens themselves to carve a path for your young, heeding my word no matter the tribulations that cross your steps.”

Where before his [Dantian], and the Qi within trembled. Now they roiled, becoming a visible force between the pair that tethered through a ribbon of tattered teal.

“I swear upon the [Dao],” he said.

At this moment his inner reserves became much depleted, to the point that he was left near void of it all.

Grandmother Hua hummed into her cup, though it was unmeasurable in mood. A sound much different from her usual disdain. “As ever you are the dutiful father. Well chosen, oaf. Recall this moment once we reach the Cloudy Serpent Sect proper, use it as anchor for the tasks granted by that imbecile Gon Ma.”

Fu flinched, yet it was Hushi that acted on his thoughts.

He covered the [Array] as though mere pressure and smothering might hold back the insults traded towards the one that had placed it upon him.

“A fateful encounter has found you, if you have the foresight to attempt something so in vain, and with such lacking knowledge,” said Hau. “How you know of the [Array’s] function must certainly be a tale. But be calmed. Know that this [Array] is not intended for idle placation, nor are you held in enough regard to be watched at all hours. Certainly not among the thousands of others that bear it alongside you. No, its reason lies far from what you suspect.”

Hushi absently patted the area, drawn by the musing through his link. “Then-”

Hua set down her tea, gesturing for Fu to fill her cup. “Then nothing. As with all things, it is beyond you. Place your thoughts only on debts, and fix your attention on the horizon that might yet come. For that,” she gestured, cane levelled. “Is a matter of ingenuity, and of desperation. One that even the [Cherry River Sage] wishes no part in.”