…and it is merely the nature of these prophesied realms.

Of note is the alteration of such when certain phenomena are present. The [Millennial Flame Moon], [Constellational Eclipse], [True Winter Solstice]. An expansive list that can be categorised into those that hold sway of the [Mystic Realms].

In the presence of these, most correlatory to the Heavenly movements above, an affectation of the [Law of Origin] is undertaken.

A repealment of [Heavenly Restriction], allowing a [True King] to stride upon the shores of a [Mortal Grade] realm, or a transmutation of [Qi Affinity], [Profundity], or in rare cases, the classification of certain realms.

Records passed draw attention to the [Sublimationist’s Crypt], on the banks of the Warring Tribes’ northern territories. An account from this venerable house states how some variety of equinox conspired with- regretfully- unobserved circumstances to transmute the nature of the realm from [Flame Affinity] realm to that of [Ice], and the [Law of Origin] to that of a [Trial]. If only for a span of three nights.

At the risk of inspiring baseless conjecture, and philosophical waxing- the likes of which these humble scribes are unfitting to partake in- there is a commonality that each [Mystic Realm] has the potential, and capacity, to bestow rewards upon completion of what mystified goals it might decree.

Which raises great ponderance on the Heaven’s reasoning, and why they might…

- “Beyond the Paifang, a collective work,” by the Quill House of Cherry River Spear

Ding sneered at the slumbering [Spirit Tiger], presenting a face that was not his own. A feminine, ashen-haired woman’s in place of his default mass. He, as she, stroked a hand over the creature’s ruby hide, careful to skirt the numerous paper talismans atop it.

“Mistress,” calmed the lecherous voice at his side. As crooked as the man that bore it. “It’s a rare treat to see such a smile.”

“You are too kind,” Ding giggled. Husky, and masculine. “My Dao partner- Gao Fu, he will be most pleased at this. His Yang deficiency troubles him deeply.” He extended a hand, feigning delicacy so the merchant might escort him further into the array of tents.

Hearing his own name had Fu’s skin prickle, but he remained composed. His own facade, continuing.

“-personal use,” he returned, answering the well-stained vagrant at his side. An unaffiliated cultivator of rough bearing.

“It’s of no matter to me,” came the reply.

Fu nodded, inspecting his own beast. A slumbering oxen of malefic green fur, slick with moisture. “[Foundation Realm]. Are these the sum of your wares?” he asked.

The cultivator scratched at a growing stubble on his cheek. “[Lilac Glade] isn’t as stocked as it once was. Product of these closures the Cloudy Serpent Sect are forcing. What you’ve seen is what we have.”

Under guise, Fu puffed out his disapproval. He made a show of glancing down the plaza’s length, inspecting the wares of the various trappers that lined it. Poorly crafted tents half-shielding the [Spirit Beasts] they had captured.

“An [Autumn] day is short enough. I would inspect this before purchase.” Without receipt of permission, Fu thrust a hand inside the oxen’s mouth. Rough enough to ensure that its flattened teeth broke the skin, and the [Poison Qi] within its saliva took hold.

A cheaper method than purchasing cores to replenish us, is it not, Hushi?

The octopus impressed his glee, syphoning all he could through their [Hundred Immunities Fruit].

“Ma-master cultivator!”

Fu arched a brow at the cultivator. “You are troubled?”

“The talismans won’t survive such duress. With times as they are I’d ask you show care! This is my livelihood.”

Searching within his pouch produced five spirit stones, lower grade, as Fu now knew them to be. He exchanged these with the trapper, despite internally cringing at the loss of such wealth. Gifted, or no. “Ah. My craft has me eager, apologies.”

If the spirit stones were of any commensurate value, this cultivator did not show it. But he took them all the same. “I ought to have made clear the rules- let it run like water beneath a bridge…” He paused then. “It’s to satisfaction?”

“The [Poison Qi] is much diluted. Perhaps it is bad form, but a hunter? A meat-eater? Do your fellows sell such wares? Serpents are often best.” Fu hoped it would escape notice that his hand was still interred in the slumbering ox.

“Serpents?”

“A core would do, if none are caught.”

The man scratched his stubble again. “You’d invite a sea of fire to my door? Serpents are the Sect’s domain, whether born of [Mystic Realm] or no- There is little need to remind you, all know this as law. Please, Master cultivator, I think our business concluded.”

Fu shared a weary look, as if this exchange had been of no value. But he moved on to further tents, his [Dantian}, half-full.

Pursuing another half-informed role.

With Ding in his periphery some twenty strides off, he inspected another row of talisman-pasted beasts. A range, but with a common ownership given the awning that they slumbered beneath.

“Master cultivator,” was called a few times. Not limited to solely Fu in his wanderings, and not by any one person.

“Fresh wares from the [Lilac Glade],” they would shout, or variations on this.

More [Mystic Realms] persisted than stars in the Heavens. Of this,- he knew well- for it was both the subject of his recent readings, and his fixation.

Lacking any implement to scrawl notes, Fu committed most details to memory. Searching for a commonality that would help his goals. “I am new to the Four Corners Prefecture,” he said, addressing the closest cultivator. “This [Lilac Glade]- might you tell me of it?”

A set of two sisters with a weathered banner at their rear. Brown, and frayed much like the matching ruqun that clad them both. “A realm for fledglings,” said one, the second separating to tend to other prospective customers. She bowed, informally, and Fu matched it. “It is a [Martial Profundity] realm, but holds merit at [Mortal Grade] for the variety of [Spirit Beasts]. The youth of the city often enter to hone their skills before Sect initiations.”

“Gratitude,” returned Fu. “You must be enterprising, to navigate the [Law of Origin], no? If mortals are all that may enter.”

“The master cultivator is too kind. But it is a simple thing. The Warriors Association hold a barracks there, and many here-” she gestured to the markets. “-have family or employees that rent accommodation within. We would not entrust mortal youths with more than the couriering of messages.”

This called a memory of Luo, and his realm of cultivation that far surpassed the [Heavenly Restriction] of the Thousand Shore [Mystic Realm].

“Truly? And the realm has not escalated for containing so many experts beyond its required [Heavenly Restriction]?” he asked, feigning incredulity.

“The beast tides are manageable,” she said, growing impatient at Fu’s lack of interest in the surrounding [Spirit Beasts]. “But, a more telling description is in the quality of its wares. Would the master-”

As Fu made to flash his spirit stones, an arm met his.

“Husband!” cooed Ding. “I have the materials for your crippled Yang! This evening promises to be free of disappointment!”

Fu caught the merchant’s averted gaze. The stifled smirk. “Wife, must we speak of matters so openly? It is improper.”

“Oh, come now,” he said, leading Fu to the side. Whispering next. “Brother Fu, our business is concluded. I’d have those spirit stones returned to me. After all, we can’t have our senior thinking that you’d spend Sect funds so carelessly. Can we?”

🀨

A glow crept below the fourth screen of their quarters upon their return. As Fu could not employ the same haste as either Ding or Mohini, he was last to arrive, and caught only the muted conversation between the pair.

Both, holding their facade with expert grace. For Mohini put herself to the corner, and produced a quill to begin writing her report in earnest while Ding set to lounging at the screen’s side.

“The [Lilac Glade] merchants’ search has concluded,” he began. “-and those listed on the Lesser Tiger Palace’s ledger showed to have no knowledge of the stolen [Heritage] cores when the subject was broached. When questioned by disciple Quan, the implicated merchants whose names were of most heavy use within the ledger maintained their silence, though disciple Seventy Fifth’s use of such distraction yielded further results. Two tokens of unknown allegiance were found in hidden compartments of the implicated's lockboxes, raising concerns of external interference.”

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Fu hung on every word.

[Heritage] cores? This is our mandate, to discover the source of a theft?

He held back the questions he wished to ask, though to do so was a nail in his own foot. The persona he affected was not one of questions, or of distance from the world of cultivation, and to reveal his lack of knowledge would open him up to further disadvantage.

Instead, he-

“The senior disciples have concerns on disciple Gao’s errant spending, and suggest that disposable funds be further allocated to aid in the squads’ success.”

The final jot of the quill was a deafening thing. A verbatim scrawl of characters that felt much like a sentence.

“Errant?”” he broke.

“A term to mean astray. Is there confusion, brother Fu? Didn’t you pass spirit stones to those merchants?”

Mohini continued where Ding finished, allowing no retort. “Amituofo. This seventy-fifth rate daoist bore witness.”

Yet again, Fu was cut short of speaking. For the closed screen pushed open, and a flurry of plum-hued Qi gushed forth. It settled around a figure’s feet, and the hanfu that hung by it, half-draped upon a cultivator’s waist.

A heaven-sculpted man of set jaw. “Isn’t silence the domain of our Clouded Court Squads?” he asked.

“Brother!” exclaimed Ding. “I…”

“Quan Ding,” dismissed this newcomer, bold and untroubled. “Then to Gao Fu. And you, Seventy Fifth Mohini. Tell me, what relation have you to the author of that painfully vague tome?”

I had thought as such. One of her heritage is the creator of the ‘Clear Sky Empire’ tome. He then, has read this too?

Mohini inclined her head. “Amituofo…”

“Ah, a distant relation then. A granddaughter of a grandaughter’s cousin.” The man wiped a finger around one iris, plum things, with a shadow of the same colour there to darken his sockets. “I’m Zhu. Greetings.”

“Disciple Zhu,” said Ding. “It’s fortunate that you have arrived. Our squad will be all the more effective with a fourth.”

“Amituofo. It is as Ding says.”

Zhu took the measure of Fu, and pointed. “A fresh initiate, at your age? That’s an interesting tale I’ll bet.”

Painfully direct. But he holds no malice that I can sense.

“Ah. One you might share during your duties,” exclaimed Ding. He produced a token- a chit of mundane yew with a sigil upon it. Base lines, burned into the wood. “The Clouded Archives will need to identify this. Brother Fu, I’ll entrust this task to you. As well as instructing our newest member on how best to act.”

The token was tossed, and Fu forced a smile. “Apologies brother. I will leave that task to you, and sister Mohini. Lest I lead him astray.”

🀨

Zhu showed a muted disinterest as Fu plucked another serpent from the tunnel’s floor, and scraped its fangs across the palm of his hand. Mortal creatures, with a middling venom that necessitated several dozen be treated as this before the fisherman’s [Dantian] was brought back to full.

Regardless, it whiled away the silent moments until they had arrived at the Clouded Archives. A further sunken trove some untold depth below the main observation platform. Stylized serpents wound the entrance’s frame, carved and inscribed with myriad [Dao Principles]- known, for golden characters hummed a dull glow across their surface.

Fu could not place their nature, and strode warily across the threshold to greet the counter ahead of him. Warmth flared. A searching resonance that touched upon his [Contribution Array], and to a lesser extent, the [Three Eyed Spying Array].

“Broth-” his voice jerked.

“Zhu, only,” warned Zhu, simmering when he received a nod of affirmation.

The pair stood idle then. Stalled by the lack of aides, or archivists behind the counter. Truly, Fu spied no corner where they might stand, for the wood before them encompassed all of the tight room. No more than ten strides from wall to wall.

“I’ve a sister in the Third Heavenly Records,” Zhu said, slipping the chit from Fu’s hand to the counter.

The irritation on Fu’s finger pressed as he picked the skin afresh. “Why, disciple Zhu, you…”

Zhu’s look was withering. “Speak as you mean to. Else it’s as tiresome as the play of those other two.”

Fu pressed a smile, and to continue the series of interruptions this day- a reaction stirred in the surroundings.

A gyration of walls closed atop them, folding inwards, collapsing and rotating. Yet scales flashed by to dissuade the notion of stone or marble. Each fold shown to be a revolution of a serpent’s body, colossal in scope, uncoiling.

Four heartbeats passed once the scene had paused. However, much longer was needed to process the sight.

Islands, forged of cloud and purest jade. Adrift on a midnight sky. A mirror of the Divine Clouded Mountain, where titanic stacks; scroll-laden, tome-heavy, character-infused, towered above each in place of homes and pagodas.

Here, the aides rushed in swarms. Their myriad forms fouling the pristine backdrop like insects upon a diamond.

“Disciple Gao Fu. Disciple Zhu,” announced one such aide. A spectral woman, scholarly, and composed of tangerine vapour.

Fu started, feeling his foot sink in the cloud below. A narrow island that would grant neither he or Zhu space to move further. “As you say, senior. We seek identification of a symbol.” He bowed low, presenting the chit at his fore.

I cannot recall lifting this from the counter.

“Senior? Most polite, Gao Fu,” the woman said, and promptly faded into cloud upon taking the proffered item.

[Resilience] did not mute the acute pain that came with ripped skin. In fact, Fu winced from the shock of it.

A prick of blood, welling under his nail. Hushi cascaded down, stopping it with a gentle arm. His thoughts of a similar, if more innocent nature.

Was Zhu, a Long?

Most were. In some form.

Ding, Mohini, their blackened bellies as plain as tiger’s stripes.

Yunhan. For all his aid.

Hua.

There are ways to approach this without exposing my ignorance.

“The Third Heavenly Records? How does it compare to the Clouded Archives?” Fu asked.

“Last I recall they’d no [Spatial Array]. No [Vestiges],” Zhu regarded Hushi, which prompted his own [Spirit Beast] to emerge before he continued. A plum butterfly, of modest pattern. “I’d say they pale in comparison.”

The butterfly proved bold, cresting Fu’s knuckle not an inch from Hushi. Where they exchanged a common curiosity.

“And [Vestiges],” said Fu. “This shows a high standard, in your eyes?”

Zhu put half an eye on his Bond. “A high standard shows a high standard. To interrupt your blatantly shameful attempt to wring me for answers- I’ll ask something of my own. For one in our position, what had you choose an octopus as your partner?”

“Blatant?”

“Before you scramble to conjure an air of offence- don’t.”

“If I have slighted you, then forgive me,” Fu said. “But you go too far. We are fellow disciples of the Clouded Court Squads, and to continue this would have us both lose face.”

After a well-contrived look of scanning the cloud-riddled expanse, Zhu returned his gaze. “More so than extortion by our other fellows?”

The butterfly fluttered atop Hushi’s arm, and both Bonds continued to ignore the traded words around them.

“Tanshuai has taken a liking to your partner,” changed Zhu.

In response, Fu blinked. Regaining his composure. “And Hushi, her,” he said. “I would say there is meaning in this. To agree, as our partners do.”

“Are we in disagreement? I’d think discussion is more accurate.”

“A question, then,” posed Fu, answering the first in good faith. “The Heavens put me in Hushi’s path, and he in mine. It is less of a fable than simple truth, and this position was not in my mind.”

Zhu called Tanshuai back, and she danced in the air around his head. “Few would choose the Clouded Court Squads. More are chosen- forced, coerced. Abandoned. But you’ve no bearing of just one.”

“Bastards and brats,” mimicked Fu. “I am told this is the distinction.”

“And amongst these types you’d pretend to be otherwise? A face concocted for reasons I’m unsure of. The other two, yes, but why put on falsehood for me?”

He is a vexation. Doubly so, for all that he knows of the squad’s actions after so very short a time.

“Disciple Zhu, have we met before?”

These words had glaringly little effect on the man. “Why should such a thing matter? You’ve my name now, haven’t you?”

“One Zhu is as another to me. Apologies,” said Fu, conveying his uncertainty.

Tanshuai came to land on her cultivator’s head. An impression passed there, of this much Fu could guess.

“Then you’ve alleviated my disappointment, in part,” and strangely, Zhu dipped his head. “Gratitude, Gao Fu.”

An uncomfortable silence followed, despite Fu’s relief that the conversation was over. Trading words with this man had him pine for the pounding knuckles of [Spirit Apes], for such blows took less of a mental toll.

There was solace to be found in studying the Clouded Archives. In the [Dao] rich tapestry that swept like golden wind between islands. It had Fu begin a ponderance, as he heard tale of other cultivators doing.

A rumination of meaning.

Only, the Heavens sought to block him in two ways. Firstly, in that he would possess difficulty in even reading rumination, were it scried in characters on a parchment before him. And secondly, the [Vestige] had made her return.

Wisps that converged to materialise her body whole.

“Disciple Gao Fu,” she re-greeted.

“Great [Vestige],” he acknowledged. Tanshuai fluttered to his shoulder.

The spectral woman offered Fu the chit, and it passed over the space between them with a suspension of Qi to land in his hand. “It is a token of favor for the Silkworm Hall, and proof of services rendered.” She imparted a scroll next. “A vagrant shadow sect, mercenary in both dealings and nature.”

“And evidently foolish to leave a trace of their involvement,” added Zhu.

“Not quite, Disciple Zhu,” she said. “The chit itself holds no inherent trace. It is a simple sigil inscribed with principles for communication and exchange. To activate such would begin a relay to multiple puppet organisations and shell sects, where the intent would be further filtered until it reached its true recipient.”

Zhu took no offence at the correction, and spoke quickly. “To arrange a meeting, or for direct conversation?”

“The former.”

“If the process is so convoluted, how might the Clouded Archives know of this?”

The [Vestige]’s brow furrowed. “No stone is left unturned beneath the Cloudy Serpent Sect, disciple. To us, a shadow sect is self-styled. For there are no corners in the Clear Sky Empire where we do not have eyes.”

“Gratitude,” said Fu, bowing.

“A pleasure, disciple Gao Fu,” she replied. “There are three thousand accounts of interactions of Silkworm Hall, alongside a catalogue of their known members, affiliates and histories, should you wish to return.” Turning then, she forced a non-committal farewell. “Disciple Zhu.”

“Will we report this now?” asked Zhu, calling back Tansuai. “Or will you plunge more serpents into your skin first?”

Fu stifled a sigh.