An [Origin Realm] cultivator.

An immortal.

Those beyond the vast spectrum of [Core Formation].

One that could overturn the seas with a flick of their sleeve.

Fu dared not curse, lest his feint be unmade. A drooping, and struggle, for [An Array in One Hand] would cut through his act should it be lacking.

Thus he battled against his bindings in lack-lustre fashion, a pretence of drowsiness and inability having the manacles scarcely move. As he had when the aides had toted him below their master’s abode to be placed with the others.

A line of ten.

His prison was of familiar fashion, for it held a dampness and dark he could associate with stepping from his boat in a late [Autumn’s] night.

Water lapped, spilling from the underground lake to soak him upon the floor. A cascade from the cleat- his fastening, that bound him on an inscribed pier of rock in its center.

[An Array in One Hand] strode beyond, addressing the vast surrounding waters. His former geniality, absent in delivery. “The hundred moons have yet passed once more.”

The lake trembled.

“Good fish are found outwith Heaven’s eye,” he performed. “And shoals there caught by net. The worthy master hath good wine, to have all guests well met.”

Poetry flowed forth, conjuring a [Profundity] of golden [Dao] that illuminated this cavern’s farthest reaches. Beneath brimmed douli and through a pretence of bleary eyes, Fu did note his surroundings.

Waves at first, and the emanation of golden luminance beneath. As though a lantern rose by word alone to glow upon this underground of no few li. Yet two things broke from the water in disproportionate scale.

A mess of orchids to ring the vastness of water, and the leviathan in their midst.

Terror gripped at Fu, and his sodden state from gushing waves was drowned in frigid perspiration.

[An Array in One Hand] strode from his pier’s end to tread on open air. Ten paces distant from the catfish that had risen there.

A fleshy, grotesque fish that bulged and distended in each direction. Its fins, corrupted and pallid, its scales, pox-marked and cancerous.

But it strained against the draw of this cultivator, thrashing as limp and lightly as Fu.

Great corded whiskers oscillated between putrid lime and malefic grey as its maw opened, and a demon slid from within.

The master’s Bond, if his affection was any mark, and a [Spirit Worm] of such scale that Nu Wa’s righteous [Spirit Serpent] might well have been rivalled.

“My guiding star, this half heart greets its other,” he said. His hand caressed the worm’s silken flesh, brushing as one might their lover’s hair. “Our [Season] of Yin long extends, and seems everlasting. Yet insight can be found here, do you not feel it?”

Speech transmitted across the waters, delivering this [Spirit Worm’s] thoughts in a distinctly feminine voice. “I feel it, my heart’s half. Only longing for our distance to shorten. Sorrow accompanies this [Dao].”

“My breast remains cold for your absence.”

The [Spirit Worm] shuddered. “The rain is soon to clear, and through loam will we tread forth towards the Heavens.”

“As you say, my heart.” [An Array in One Hand] remained in embrace. Hands trailing, and sweet nothings whispered.

Fu drew in a breath. A rasp that belied vocation.

No less… no less than this is required.

His mantra warmed what ice had gripped his veins, and his first thoughts went to Hushi. He had stilled, and his impressions were gripped by inaction. Dread having seized his [Dantian] greater than any suppressing [Intent].

Brother.

Nothing returned.

Brother. I need you.

The [Clouded Ghost Arts] felt frayed against these emotions.

[An Array in One Hand] stepped so fleetly that he was before Fu in a moment. Although he did not scowl, and instead put him in strange regard. “The Cherry River boy,” he said.

For all the good it would do, Fu remained silent.

The master’s face appeared reminiscent, devoid of hatred. “Ah. The disciple of [Dour Faced Strategist]. But she did not possess such a [Constitution] as you do, nor was he of [Air Qi].” He passed an owlish look to another captive, manacled five paces distant. “A hundred moons. Such vicissitudes grind even crystal to dust.”

Confusion? What would such a ploy gain him?

With a tug of his chin-hairs, the man swept on. A trail of stained, lilacs robes flourishing in his wake. No clear herald of a venerable immortal.

But against this facade, his Qi soon waxed. For [An Array in One Hand] came to the pier’s edge once more, and graced its surface with a finger. An emittance of gold once more, blossoming the ring of flowers upon the lake’s edge.

These orchids sustained a growth that it put them larger than thrice Fu’s entire length. Petals bulged in weeping fashion, five pointed and slick. They shivered, and repressed the cavern’s gold with a spread of lilac Qi.

Pollen, for its sickly taste.

“The [Season] sustains,” spoke [An Array in One Hand].

“Then I return to diligence,” thrummed his [Spirit Worm], recoiling to burrow into the catfish once more.

🀦

The Master’s pollen was invasive. Lilac specks, birthed once upon the hour. These setted across the captives, and burrowed.

His limp competitors still draped and manacled on cleats in line with his own.

But such burrowing could not be dismissed. For a single dot of this lilac torture would land atop his skin, his robes or hat, and sink deep without resistance. Entering not his blood, but the [Meridians] and [Channels].

Untested, Fu might only have guessed at its intent, but [An Array in One Hand’s] intentions were both active, and forthcoming.

It withered him. Not flesh turned gaunt nor in aged witherance.

No.

His [Spirit]. His [Soul].

The resistance he felt, and the struggle against this dragon’s den.

Fu spied the pollen inwardly, seeing how it mingled with the whorling [Air Qi] throughout, inciting a serenity where his arms should rage against the manacles or where his [Intent] should spill forth in retaliation.

Hushi. Do not be claimed by it. We must rise.

HIs octopus was yet held by stupor, and responded with utter silence.

So again, Fu drew what strength he could from this poison. A small tithe, its composition three parts in ten. The [Hundred Immunities Fruit] transforming the Qi of it, while spluttering against both its [Realm] of unknown potency and what effects it held besides.

[An Array in One Hand] sat deep in meditation some twenty strides away, his lotus position resting upon air above the lake.

With the effort spent to gather his competitors, and to imprison them… No. Fu would not guess at such things. Any efforts had to fly beneath the immortal’s notice.

Then he warred against this very notion. For his resolve slipped as an eel might in his palm, only to be brought back once more.

Maddening… This… this is no escape, but base survival. To remain awake with my [Spirit] intact is no method. If I might gain more Qi, perhaps [Half Cloud Step] would set me free.

The third strategist from him suddenly collapsed, further the limpness of his state. A faint effort of his subconscious muscles, now gone, to have him sop like a sodden rag.

Taken from NovelBin, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Subtle thunder roused [An Array in One Hand] from his meditation, placing him once more at the pier’s end.

He was expectant, and clear-eyed. Awaiting the two aides that had entered by passage unknown to force a spit through the strategist’s manacles. And there they hoisted, his arms spread cruciform as he was presented to the master.

“Weeks,” he mused. “The stock of the Jianghu is well diluted now. Old [Bloodlines] wane in place of quantity. Evidence that my rivals grow thin in their patience.”

“As you say, master,” replied a lilac aide. “Please forgive this one’s words, but I am troubled. This stock lasted but two days, and not the weeks spoken of. This humble servant is infuriated that you must deal with such lacking material!”

“But two passes of the sun?” said [An Array in One Hand]. “No, concern yourself not. Your master appreciates the boldness needed to correct him.”

Fu waited for a swift execution, despite the words.

Yet the master continued. “Begin.”

The aides bowed low before revealing their talents, for both blurred to opposing sides of the lake in moments. Both positions as clear as limpid water, as vast plumes of ivory Qi rose about them. Their true actions were unknown, save that the inscriptions of a vast [Array] soon painted themselves across the space.

Myriad characters that agitated the titanic catfish, having its cancerous form thrash free of the depths.

Fishing stakes. To trap and contain it. What cruelty is this?

Quakes put the cavern into a shortened tumult, but it was a protest as futile as Fu’s own. The catfish quieted in short order, subdued by the power of glowing poles that forced its compliance.

[An Array in One Hand] rushed the captive forth in a tide of force to be stalled by the catfish’s maw.

Fu dared to tilt his head higher, though his [Dantian] shivered to reveal more than eyes ever could.

An aura ashed the captive into fine particles not moments after his suspension, which was drawn into the catfish’s mouth. Lime green, until the creature screeched - radiating a pain like none Fu could fathom.

Perhaps the unknown [Array] magnified some aspect, for then Fu knew of the captive’s soul. Of its disintegration and reaping, for an echo reached his own. Something vital was drawn from the specks, and through it [An Array in One Hand] had his palm rise.

Beckoning them back amidst the catfish’s screams only to fall deep into a meditative state once more.

Fu saw the [Spirit Worm] exert its control beyond, pulsating within each growth upon the catfish to spur it back below.

Hushi. Brother. Wake. Wake now! They come for our souls, and we are not yet done beneath these Heavens!

A silence descended, and naught could be seen once with the [Array’s] light faded. Ushering in a damp blackness once more.

Hushi.

Fear married the malefic pollen, and Fu tore at his manacles sharply. With his captor entranced, he called upon his [Dao]. Finding it distant. His [Half Cloud Step] only had twin grooves gouge into his wrists from the exerted force, bound by the immovable.

We possess more than two actions. We are more than our [Arts] and [Dao].

Yet even these thoughts were fading into compliance.

Fu went inward to combat it. His focus on the [Clouded Ghost Arts] and its maintenance, to the process that had long stood instinctual.

It allowed him to breathe, and to still the threat around his heart. He reached for Hushi’s presence, finding it as distant as his [Dao]. Though the connection to his Qi was a finger away, toiling in absence to transform the [Poison Qi].

I am sorry, brother. Were I not lacking we might have escaped this fate.

Fu tensed.

Sooner.

An impression returned, if faint. More in Fu’s [Channels] than through any sense or image. A fine point of [Air Qi], looping as if in formation of a character.

More.

Faint, before dissipating. Yet for those with shared souls, enough to speak a tome’s worth.

The cavern’s darkness welcomed his eyes, and an expansion of [Senses]. Further highlighting the silence before it was broken.

For a flap sounded in the pitch, one of swift moving cloth, followed by a tap as a douli fell to the sodden floor. All birthed by a jerk, that had Fu’s neck move to unsheathe Hushi and have him land atop his foot.

And then a splash, as some soft projectile was kicked into the watery embrace of an orchid ahead. Saturating itself in pollen, and a tide of the soul-eroding poison within.

🀦

Fu’s [Channels] wept with violence, and each [Meridian] felt as though lava surged throughout.

He could not break from his concentration to check Hushi, entrenched amidst the orchid’s grasp some distance from him. At the burgeoning source of this devouring [Poison Qi].

Power welled, and Qi was indeed delivered. Though Fu contested with thoughts of the cost, and thread his efforts against them. He held a tenuous grasp on a fifteenth fold, where a perfect sphere was close to completion.

His spiralled [Air Qi] now a shell for-

Blood coughed free of Fu’s lungs, and unmade the entire process. Hours of effort wasted in a spray of crimson.

The external world flooded in, ushering darkness and damp.

His manacles spasmed about his tender, reinforced flesh, and Fu was forced to stifle the cry in his throat.

But what could he do but move forward?

He re-entered his inner sight, and retrieved the overflowing volume of Qi there with a weary grasp. Every pore of him ached and cried: his soul, warring again- pleading for such an attempt to be over.

Coercing him from his path.

Fu’s grip only tightened, and he wound-

A fountain of blood gushed from his nostrils, his lungs and ears. The wetness was grim, and unfathomably hot.

Once more the manacles clacked, bearing his full weight as he clattered limp.

Hushi. I am sure this… I am sure this is nothing compared to your turmoil.

In an attempt to rise he slipped atop his own, slick blood. Three tries. Three further gouges, and he had risen once more.

Yet now his mantra rose upon bloodied lips. “No less than this,” he whispered. “No less than this is required.”

Grandmother Hua’s words.

Fu drew in a lungful of pollen-tainted air, pushing it inward.

The fortitude required to form his core was lacking, even with such an abundant supply of Qi. Tides continued to press him, so much so that he felt saturated. Neither could his actions upon Hushi be recalled.

Thus he deigned to look from another angle.

His [Clouded Ghost Arts] suspended the Qi within his [Channels] and [Dantian], a veil he dared not lift lest [An Array in One Hand] take notice. No. So it was that with trepidation he seized the stagnation this technique provided, and pushed.

The gaseous [Air Qi] was gripped with no backlash, and he felt the barest semblance of control over it. Albeit like wind in a closed palm.

But this he expanded, imagining his [Channels] as the mouth of the great pool beyond, and the hold he had a dam at the edge of his [Dantian].

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

The reaction was as dim as Hushi.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

Were his cultivation a river, the surface became tickled.

You are air, are you not? [Dao of Wayward Breezes].

A stirring came. A wind delivered.

Its passage stirred a great agitation in Fu’s physical form, yet this was powerless against the [Dao], which swept in a form greater than its name.

For it was a squall that raged within, rushing through the mouth where he held his [Clouded Ghost Arts] tight. He sealed this as a patterned screen might slide across an entrance, trapping the force within.

Could he not then step through it? Was his [Air Qi] not his?

Explosive pain forced Fu’s head to snap back, and only by grace of his [Bone Refinement] did the cleat behind not fracture his skull.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

A sheet of his Qi trembled. His chest became compressed beneath a mountain’s weight.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

An edge curled in the makings of a vast spiral.His heart thundered on the precipice of breaking.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

Tranquillity.

Gao Fu took a step upon sanded shores, the look of which he could not discern. Only that Hushi sat upon his crown, a teal light washing forth.

It illuminated twinned sets of titanic chains, one of purest gold and its other, a sharp and jagged silver. Spherical, and a casing for the gale trapped within. To look upon them, he knew that they imposed no limits upon the wind.

And for this he was thankful.

But as they crossed this mystified shore he saw the muddying specks within. So the pair swept a hand to bat them from the air, these lilac pollutants.

Their response set them in teal, if only one in ten. Fu could not sigh, for frustration felt undeserved in this place. He only wished to be free of the lilac, knowing they were well entrenched between the chains.

A struggle could force these to the edge of these chains, and with time they would flee of their own accord. Fade in coming moons, leaving him thin and weakened until such a day came. Shown in how the chains retracted and shrunk tight.

“But time is not a kindness the Heavens bestow us,” he whispered.

Hushi impressed his agreement.

So as one, they willed their wind to flow, and slowly the flow above began in circuit. Ribbons at first, with loose edges, and then a weave.

Spirals, Fu felt deep within his core.

One rotation. Five. Ten.

The eleventh bid another change, for a pulse of purest teal enveloped the sheet now formed within these chains. This almost sphere. Having it shrink as it rejected the lilac, severing the space where they floated.

The cultivator looked to his Bond, where gold eyes met his.

“Our fledgling [Core],” he said. “A foundation and step.”

Hushi shared the unspoken sentiment.

“Would we form it from rejection? Is our life not of acceptance? To face what we may as we are. We strive,” he said, and the golden chain glowed ever brighter. “But we should not lose what we were to become what we must.”

The eleventh rotation completed, and expanded to include the lilac. His chain waxed with their addition, and in its centre flashed an unwavering star.

A constellation of hard outer edge and stem. It pulsed but once, and swallowed the lilac, purifying it in teal. As it did, Fu gasped, and Hushi’s skin dulled to some insignificant pastel of its prior sheen.

His [Core], the first step, was complete. A rotating sphere of power, albeit with room to grow. A winding, swirling formation in which he could feel the potential for growth. Rigid enough to hold, yet pliable in expectation for the future paths he would tread.

There escaped a single breath before the world was set aflame. Not for a rising jet, column or blaze, but in heat so indescribable that Fu’s very [Senses] boiled against it.

He was violently ripped from the unknown shore, and thrust back into his manacled state beneath an excruciating pain. A swelling from within that had his [Dantian] roil like lava and his-

A [Dantian]... no… longer.

Such a thought struck through the pain, adding clarity to a process that now engulfed his body. His [Mind], and [Spirit]. Transformative, as though his flesh were a crucible and-

The next interruption came as a deafening rumble. One that pierced the depths of this cavern, and the [Mystic Realm] at large. Its heavens and earth.

For it was its Heavens and Earth.

Its [Tribulation], called forth to mete out justice against the poor fool that had dared to defy them.

Swifter… than the tomes… describe.