It is within the [Twilight Lotus Expanse] that the largest number of Lotus Blade Sect disciples receive their training.

With the limit imposed on higher [Realm] cultivators by the [Law of Origin], it is staffed by a rotational force of peak [Core Formation Realm] disciples, with directives issued by Elders and the Sect Master from outwith this locale.

Predominantly, the Lotus Blade Sect fields a majoritative force in the Western Demon Front, though there exist several estates belonging to the higher rank members throughout their domain within the Four Corners Prefecture.

A collated history shows that the authoritative positions within the [Mystic Realm] itself are changed infrequently, though there is a standard, or maximum tenure of some fifty moons.

Through all intercepted missives and recovered documents, it is believed that this is to counteract the ill-effects of long term exposure to the [Allegiant Mind-Spirit Array], and not a relation of any direct promotion to the individual.

Though the ascendancy from outer disciple to inner disciple, and beyond, is not as uncommon as this.

Thus it is urged that any of our own disciples in long-term infiltrations fulfil their Lotus Blade duties on missions and contribution tasks located outside the influence of the [Array].

“Twilight Lotus Expanse. Section Nine, Category: Hierarchy”

Quan Ding’s face-changing [Art] came to mind as Fu heard Niwai’s exchange with her fellow disciples.

She is as subtle as Zhu. But perhaps there is safety in this. Too earnest as she might unmake us through suspicion.

Hands bound, face marked, and robes dishevelled, Bang Du Chen was forced to rise. His slump before the [Paifang’s] landing; the pavings before its green-hued arch, were an uncomfortable place for one so visibly battered.

But he did so with purposeful distance, four strides to the front of his captor so that the space between went untouched.

Unruffled.

“...imprisonment is too good for the likes of this one,” remarked a disciple, which received a rousing round of nods from the three or four gathered there. Those in jian’s reach, or so told Fu’s prickling skin.

The near-fifty total that staffed this outer pavilion, cared only for the blooming lotuses adrift in tended ponds about them. Were Fu not spying this from bindings, he might well have marvelled at the beauty of their domain.

“As you say, brother,” cut Niwai, her affection of rage of uncertain origin. “But only our betters might judge such things fairly, for what wisdom does a drifting petal know that the lotus does not?”

The affirmation of this turned almost scholarly and pensive, and stirred a second series of agreeing nods.

“Well spoken, sister,” came the consensus, though many now looked to the cut of her Lotus Blade robes and to the exposed flesh. As effective as any blade.

Fu was urged onwards, breaking the tranquillity of each tended pool as he stepped from stair to landing ad nauseum. The grandeur was evident, and each placing of his foot- each moment spent within the vice of staring disciples - pushed his heart faster.

However his [Core] remained still, despite the dispellation of his [Clouded Ghost Arts]. As Niwai’s was as well.

It was upon the fifteenth landing, the largest and one encircled by a crescent pool, that their passage was brought into question.

There came a gentle “Oh.” Spoken ahead by a broad shouldered disciple of resplendent [Ink], patterns of gold glaring from his chest and neck.

Niwai stooped to a bow. “This junior greets the inner disciple and begs he forgives her tardiness.”

“Tardiness, disciple?” he retorted, and spread a warm smile. A matting of earth clad his fingernails, and the basket at his feet was half emptied of bulbs. “It seems to me that you have done our Sect a great service. Do not fret about tardiness.”

“This junior extends gratitude for the kind words.”

The man stepped by Fu, cutting into the space between he and Niwai to place a hand upon her shoulder.

No doubt the three ghosts sucked in a breath, or two perhaps, as the [Art]-cloaked Zhu had greater priorities to deal with.

“Be at ease, disciple. I see that this man troubles you greatly. The Sect welcomes you home, and before long you will be amongst your fellows again.” Slowly, he released the hold on Niwai’s shoulder, and stood aside. “The [Paifang] awaits.”

“As you say, senior. I am eager to complete my duties.”

Only a fool would sigh in relief, thus Fu made on with Niwai’s urging, silently. A single landing and flight remained. The [Paifang’s] threshold beyond.

“Junior,” tightened the knife at his throat.

Fu froze to hear the inner disciple’s address. Niwai’s expression was unknown as he affected a form of capture, downtrodden and head slung low. But he willed her composure to remain as she replied.

“Might I be of further aid, senior?”

“May the lotus’ light shine on you,” he said.

In response, Niwai retorted with her own code. A phrase put in record from their Sect’s last infiltration “And you senior, may the serenity of its waters lead to greater enlightenment.” Her bow sounded in swaying fabrics, and…

And they continued unmolested before the sweat upon any ghost might freeze in the frigid [Winter] air.

An abyss of night sky welcomed their step, and vertigo descended with such violent force that Fu’s next stumble was no farce.

Before them was an arid platform that descended across the nebulous expanse to further ground: to the Sect’s domain beyond and the majesty that reigned there. Flower-draped structures, pavilions and pagodas upon a central stretch, barely disparate from the Four Corners Prefecture save for flowers.

And what lay on their exterior.

Three cyclic bands of flame, of [Sun Qi] of [Star] and [Moon]. All delineated with hues of brilliant orange, teal and ivory.

These waxed and thickened as if serpents chasing their own tail, rotating around the absent ground of this magnificent rock. This meteor, the likes of which Fu could only marvel at between his curses.

He drew from his [Core], cycling light wafts of [Air Qi] to grant him the fortitude needed to stand.

Clad behind in his light-bending [Art], Zhu uncharacteristically gasped. “A sight like this… perhaps I would have been a better lotus than ghost.”

It is indeed a sight to behold.

The walk was over in short order, and brought them to a similar gatehouse as that outside the [Mystic Realm]. Yet here the tended pools were lush with growth, untainted by [Winter’s] stagnation. Greenery enshrined the central lotus in each, and these needed no fastidious disciples to prune leaves nor fronds of adjacent plants.

No, the Lotus Blade Sect disciples held quiet conference at the foot of a colossal arch. A range of [Spirit Beasts] stood aside them, but commonality held in their sharpness of claw or fang - mirrors of the jian upon each hip.

One of [Spirit Wolf] partnership lifted his eyes from his fellows, taking interest in the oncomers as they drew to a stop.

“I greet you, sister,” he said, mirth in his voice.

“This junior returns the greetings, senior,” called Niwai.

“A troublesome sort, this one?”

“I only know what my seniors have shared,” she said. “They instructed me to deliver him to the prisons with haste. Bang Du Chen is his name.”

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The lotus comes from mud. Yet is it not regal?

Whispers stole up Fu’s cooling spine.

Its stem is hollow. Yet is it not unbending?

His [Core] was set aflutter with some similarity to the [Soul Gnawing Orchids] of the catfish’s lair.

Something degrading, and consuming.

It does not sully itself with vines or branches. Yet is it not whole?

His focus returned between whispers, to where Niwai’s conversation was stalled. Her voice a stutter, and the concern upon the Lotus Blade disciple’s face, a fade to suspicion.

[Half Cloud Step].

Fu blurred to slash a great groove across Niwai’s stomach, his blade at such an angle that only a superficial line of crimson appeared amidst her torn robes.

The disciple behind was allowed to batter him to the ground, and did so with prejudice. Feet joined several swift kicks, hammering into his ribs, his arms and back.

It stands tall and true. Yet is it not unbroken by the winds?

“...bastard,” finished a curse aside the final foot. “To name him a locust would sully such pests, for he is less than this!”

A hoisting came by the scruff of his robes, and Fu was booted no small distance forward. Another tumble, but one that saw him through the archway. Hushi held firm beneath the douli, holding fast to keep his presence unknown.

Concern, impressed in spades.

But then the second hoisting came, and the third unkindness followed that. A volley of kicks that put him ever distant from Niwai, or from the hidden Zhu - with his mind unknown. Through the repetition, Fu glimpsed his sister disciple.

A hand upon her stomach, and the affirmation of a lucid nod. Which Fu judged as good, even if the Heavens laughed on high. Their mockery clear as their plan was unmade almost as soon as they had arrived.

🀧

The lotus comes from mud. Yet is it not regal?

Master Bingbai would be held in no place as this.

A cell of unfathomable depth, for this room was bisected. One side sealed with metallic bars, a [Star Iron] composition from his [Old One’s Whisker’s] telling. The other was but a gaping hole, exposed to the elements.

[Celestial Qi] in all of its varieties streamed by, as he had witnessed from the [Paifang]. These serpents of light. And they scorched in passing, erupting all but the farthest corner in such a volume of heat that the very air tasted burnt in its wake.

Silhouettes were ingrained in the stone ahead, and forewarned Fu against the notion of peering into the abyss or attempting escape in this direction.

But he only breathed, his lotus position adopted.

Its stem is hollow. Yet is it not unbending?

The [Allegiant Mind-Spirit Array] drew much from his mental fortitude. Yet it was wholly different from his previous experiences with insidious, malicious thought. Where [An Array in One Hand’s] provoked a lowering of guard, one to incite willingness or laxness: this inspired fresh ideals.

Conformity of a different sort.

Were his [Dao Oaths] not resilient, burdensome chains upon his [Core], he knew his fortitude might well have crumbled. Thus he explored them, and wrapped his consciousness about them to have their will become his only.

Grandmother Hua’s and the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s. Allied, for now.

It does not sully itself with vines or branches. Yet is it not whole?

An hour passed before his mantra was secure, perhaps. By Hushi’s count, unfettered by grace of a more insightful [Clouded Ghost Arts], the [Celestial Qi Arrays] had rotated fifteen times. Once for every three minutes gone.

Some span beyond this, there came a rap upon the bars.

Fu’s eyes opened, and saw nothing.

“The patrols are lax. Indeed, they’ve grown reliant on this [Array],” whispered Zhu. “It’s maddening, and I curse our favour for this.”

“The [Three Deaths Annihilation Array]?”

“Disabled in preparation for maintenance.”

“Truly?” remarked Fu, crossing to the bars. “I do not trust that.”

Tanshuai unsheathed from the [Art] first, and flitted in greeting before the [Star Iron]. Her wisdom as such that she did not touch it. Zhu came next, a noticeable sweat staining his hair to his scalp.

It stands tall and true. Yet is it not unbroken by the winds?

Similar stains beaded down Fu’s head. “I am more convinced of my decision to have Linhua remain behind. At the risk of her confidence shattering further, it is-”

“Recall where we are,” warned Zhu.

“The [Array],” apologised Fu, with double meaning. Then he drew a step back, and poured his focus into the [Old One’s Whisker]. His gaze set upon these bars.

To the [Array] within. A…

High-Grade [Sealed Reprisal Array].

Some standard figuration of interwoven principles that blocked touch and interference with painful feedback. If not deadly.

Fu removed his clothing while considering, cleansing himself of Bang Du Chen amidst a measuring stare.

The lotus comes from mud. Yet is it not regal?

The [Old One’s Whisker] was a reservoir for all that [An Array in One Hand] had known, a bank, Fu had come to realise, from which his own [Intermediary Wisdom] sprouted. So too did it hold the knowings of others- reaped from those victors of his trial through despicable means.

Centuries of knowledge. Immortal knowledge. Even in instinct alone…

No profundity of crossing patterns glared with weakness upon the gate. For his [Constellation Seed] was no visual thing.

But Fu strode, pitting his thumbnail against the metal. Another instinct had Hushi emerge, and his body stretched to swipe on four separate sections.

The Qi within this formation suddenly ceased, and retracted to leave room a pace high beneath it. Zhu entered swiftly, unclad of his own clothing, and drew on what Fu had just discarded.

“That’s no [Foundation Realm] boon,” he said.

Fu’s nod was lost as he wove beneath the bars, not a moment before the [Sealed Reprisal Array] shone to life once more. The bars dropped, and Qi hummed to mark how the principles restarted after his interruption.

Its stem is hollow. Yet is it not unbending?

The disciples shared a companionable look before Fu garbed himself in the second set of Lotus Blade robes that his squad had acquired. Both owners’ corpses now tended to by the absent Linhua.

His douli vanished into his ring, and Hushi then fastened himself upon Fu’s leg. The skirts of this uniform more than adequate to mask him, despite the peculiarity of having a [Spirit Beast] so close to his… treasures.

With a scavenged jian upon his hip, Fu set forth.

Down the bowels of these prisons, he stalked. Low, and silent as night, putting no stock in this most meagre disguise.

The cells were plentiful, and through each bar passed he saw a litany of broken souls. Cultivators long abandoned. Pitiful experts that appeared hollow and vacant. Most merely sat in some poor affectation of the lotus position, their posture shallow and their concentration lapsed.

But others wept, or mewled like injured babes.

It was no-

It does not sully itself with vines or branches. Yet is it not whole?

Fu parsed another breath. The [Allegiant Mind-Spirit Array] was a vexation. With an expansion of [Senses], he prodded these prisoners. Yet the [Realm] of each was returned only as higher.

A certain omen.

For if these profound masters could fall, what fate lay in store for his own mind? For Master Bingbai and his thirty seven moons entrapped?

The diligence of Fu’s studies had him upon the correct path, and he praised the Heavens as he was delivered to a central junction within this maze of cells. Stairs were plentiful, and spanned in four cardinal directions.

East and west would put him on a circuit, returning him on a vast loop to Zhu’s cell should he take it. Whereas the north led to his target, and its opposite, to open air.

With easy recourse, his memorisation surfaced. His mantra of three hundred paces north, two hundred and thirteen east. This marked the start of his route, mapped by previous attempts.

But the Lotus Blade’s robes flashed as he swept southward, and ascended a great flight to deliver him within the Sect’s grounds. The absence of disciples was notable, for these tended paths of trimmed hedge and tranquil ponds held nary a soul between them save for he.

Hushi. The [Air Qi] is dangerously thin, but we are not under [Tyranny]. It is as if my lungs cannot be fully filled.

Knowing nothing of meteors, he noted only that no wind touched this place. That the stalks aside him, stood tall and true. Unbroken.

And in ten breaths he marvelled further, for his eyes were laid upon the splendour of another regal flower.

A titanic, blackened lotus reigned upon this glorious Sect’s courtyard as crown jewel, and monarch of all beneath it. Closed petals there embodied a hue of boldest sunrise, and faded in turn to reflect a greater darkening.

Indeed, the disciples below, in their hundreds or thousands: bladework sweeping, and styles a-striking, paid homage with their craft. Singular motions carried through the crowd, and it seemed that each Lotus Blade disciple moved as one.

The first step. The Sun Stirs the Lotus. Then to the second, which Fu’s soul deemed as a necessity to know.

In another span of breaths he was bathed in the lotus’ twilight, and found his toes to be curled over the lip of a final descent. The head of a staircase that would soon entrench him amidst those who so valiantly gave praise to this treasure.

Insight beckoned, or-

No.

With a force of will, a tightening as if jolting his eyes wide to save from slumber, Fu called upon his [Dao Oath]. His golden chain, and that which shone brightest about his [Core].

No. My mind is weak, but no thing can taint my heart! Never could something displace my true treasures.

Fu spurned the great lotus, and fled into the absent avenues of the Sect’s grounds. He had come far in his absence, having him take to the shade in order to reconcile his thoughts. But he went further, with urging from Hushi, and leapt to the unseen rafters of a structure above.

It stands tall and true. Yet is it not unbroken by the winds?

Again came this whisper, rejected now with firmer resolve.

He sought to master himself, and thus flashed three faces across his mind. Fond sights that then became six, for his children were more than themselves now.

Seven, for such indulgence spurred on thoughts of Mei. and a smile in spite of this hardship.

You would not have been lost to it, my love.

But Fu shook thereafter, and knew that such reflection was but another [Array]. If self-imposed. A vice, and dangerous. For his reflections on the [Dao], perhaps, or his dealings with [Spirituality] and this world of cultivation oft put his mind in queer situations.

A warmth told him of this.

One that rose upon his palm as if his beloved’s hand were clasped within. And this sensation spread with fervour- a clasp that became a caress, and then an embrace that set his skin to heat with such strength he thought it ablaze.

Yet this was rectified with two whispers.

The lotus comes from mud. Yet is it not regal?

“Good, Gao Fu,” crept the second. “How might I claim vengeance if you are not lucid to know it?”

Fu’s blade drove into the space behind.

It met open air with but a wisp of dissipating smoke left to face.