Thus it leaves us with shallow teachings, and those who bastardised them.

A turn of the millenia. Two? Four? Countless? It is beyond me to say, and bear in mind, reader, it is beyond most.

What practices were once of no doubt pristine use are now greatly marred- Molested, and appropriated with magnitude so dense that scant trace of their true origin remains.

Look to the One Hundred and Eight Vajra, and those Numbered high by the [Dao].

Here.

Here, stand the root, and an embodiment of origin.

Which then, sinks lower, into depths of muddled oxen filth.

For when Lord Second claims himself ‘This daoist’, it is truth.

Lord One Hundred, less so.

But do they too not follow the [Dao]? One might ask. I know the [Dao], you might say, and it is no one thing.

Which is a pained truth.

The contents of these pages are not for base slander, but a reflection on the spectrum that mires daily lives.

The True Daoist weighed against the myriad degrees of those who would name themselves as such.

One ‘Daoist’ might well identify as this for they are an instrument- led by greater hands of a Sect or Master.

Another, a truth-seeker of [Spirit], having touched a hair of [Dao] might think themselves wise for devoting their existence around a [Principle] of the [First Pool].

Truthless Unnumbered would not claim this, knowing well their role.

But what of Alchemists? So devoted to their [Dao]? [Array] Masters? The warrior intent on his [Dao of Axes]?

All ‘Daoists’. In all degrees.

Shamefully.

For they are shadows of the first intent and teachings. Plunderers of profunditythat only spoil what glimpses remain, further.

Therein lies the crux, as the mantle of ‘Daoist’ is well shifted. Diluted now, unbeknownst to all but the few, and of those few, the True, none would go against their traditions to remedy it.

What then, is the purpose of your rant? - One might say.

Only to put awareness in your mind, reader, that ‘This Daoist’ is no more ‘This Daoist’, than any other.

- “Propagating Profundity,” by [Foulest Trigram Sage]

Hushi woke first, with a start. His suckers, pried so tight upon Fu’s scalp, that their removal had the cultivator cry out in surprise. In fact, he rolled, barely managing to catch himself before striking the floor of his lodgings.

Ah. My bones- yes. They are still partly broken.

With great effort he struggled to the bedside, even the minor vibrations jolting a fresh hell through his muscles.

“Hushi,” he began, only to trail off when he noticed the figure sitting at his table.

The Elder that had delivered him to Yunhan.

On instinct, Fu made to launch into a bow. Injuries be damned. Pain was no placeholder for proper etiquette, and he could not be forsaken so soon after completing his mission.

Have I failed?

But this was stopped with a turn of the hand. “Do not trouble yourself, Gao Fu.”

“This junior would show his Elder the proper respect!” he called, rather loudly in the confines of his room.

Well ingrained lines formed by her eyes as the woman smiled. Wrinkles set by centuries, that folded more in turn, having her skin seem like bundled cloth. Yet Fu had never once felt danger from fabric, not least at the scale he did now.

“Really now? You’d raise your voice? Do you know the hour?” she tutted.

Fu’s spine crawled at the delivery. For it was eerily reminiscent.

Upon his table sat the day’s usual delivery. One tincture of the Open Eye poison. Though this was at the side of a bowl of opaque, white berries from which the Elder ate.

She continued, mid-chew. “Peace. Peace. I’d not have you cough blood for your efforts, such a thing would spoil breakfast. Would you join me, Gao Fu?”

“This junior is unworthy of it.”

“Oh, but your Elder is worthy of repeating herself?” she snorted. A feigned thing, but Fu had to suppress a shiver.

Mere dustings of her [Intent] filled the room, passively, he assumed. So indomitable that he felt as though he stood at the precipice of an encroaching mountain.

On the brink of crushing his very breath.

Fu moved to the table, putting his chair at what he supposed a respectful distance might be. Whatever game was being played, he had no choice but to participate.

“Would you like a newt eye?” she asked, proffering one of the fruits. “They’re no great treasure. An [Affinity] of [Life Qi], if mild, gives the flesh more juice. It won’t burden you with [Qi Deviation], nor will it poison you. No?”

“Newt eye is unknown to me, Elder,” he said.

“Aha yes. I suppose they would be. In my youth, when the Four Corners Prefecture cast its [Seasons] of [Seasons] for myriad thousands of li wider than the trite net it does today. When- Hah. Centuries ago, and such, and on, and so forth - these were commonplace. Drupe, I’d wager they’re called now. It is a crime against the Heavens, Gao Fu, that Elders have little time to dawdle in markets. However, it’s known to you now. In part.”

A second fruit was shown, caught between wrinkled thumb and index.

Fu could not deny his hunger. Qi was a bare meal, flavourless, if sustaining. “Gratitude, Elder,” he said, accepting the fruit.

The tang set his cheeks to pucker, more so when he bit down. He felt the Qi disperse amongst the juices, nudging his filled [Dantian]. Were he outside present company, Fu would better direct this to his injuries.

“Another?” the Elder asked. The glint in her eye did not escape him.

He indulged, finishing two before speaking. “Apologies, Elder. Any more and I would spoil my appetite.”

“No taste quite as unashamedly sour, is there? I’d know your thoughts. Might they have tasted better as newt eye? Or does drupe, or myriad other names, have them sweeter?”

A lesson on meaning? Or a game?

“The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right names,” he said. “Perhaps knowing this would share its true flavour.” Fu heard the potential disrespect in his voice then, but his lips closed before he might rectify it.

Stilled by the faint shifting of Qi.

Some resonance in the Elder’s [Dantian], which he knew fine well she allowed him to perceive. For how could one who lorded over the Clouded Serpent Sect, and one, in the halls of the Clouded Court Squads, not have mastered their [Qi Suppression]?

Fu maintained himself, yet found he was picking at his thumb.

“The [Dao] do not concern you, do they, Gao Fu?”

“This junior did not know the [Dao] were of concern, Elder.”

A bark of laughter had the surrounding Qi grow agitated. “What of [Karma]? Is this another thing of no concern?”

Still, he could not guess this game. So he spoke only truth. “It is this junior’s hope that should his cultivation continue he would leave no footprints large enough to trouble others.”

The laughter only intensified.

Maddened howls now, to further show how he exemplified the butt of this joke. “I am satisfied, Gao Fu. In return,” she paused, eyeing the bowl. “I suppose you may ask of me some base question. Nothing that would prolong my stay beyond the bottom of my breakfast’s bowl, however. Ample time, I’d think.”

Fu was quite taken aback. More so, that he could not form a single coherent question in his mind.

How do I progress faster? On what should I focus next? Where might I secure my next Bond?

He knew the answer to these.

Dedication. Consolidation. And, naturally, a [Mystic Realm].

What then, would he ask?

The Elder picked the second to last fruit.

“This junior would ask why he was put under Master Yunhan’s instructions,” he said. A question that might unveil more of the… murk, he felt himself slipping towards. “Others were given similar appointments?”

“Hah. So even blind pigs might find truffles!” she crowed. “No. Others are not given appointments. Only enabled access to the Clouded Court Squad’s teachings and resources. If an Initiate shows promise it’s by a Master’s own discretion to take them for instruction. Yunhan has no such compulsion, but I’m weary of his prideful wallowing. One cannot move without first taking a step, and the fool sits, thinking contemplation and idleness a penance.”

She speaks ill of Master Yunhan? Did he not once speak himself on penance? I cannot clearly recall.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“This junior’s instruction was to have him step? If more could have been done to aid the Sect-”

The Elder thumbed her final fruit. “It’s as if you believe your time here over? Scant hours beyond the completion of your first mission. No. Master Yunhan’s instruction will continue, for you, Gao Fu, the polite fisherman. That deafened, [Dao] forsaken one, Niharika. The others to come. All will have a part to play. More to aid the Sect? Such diligence is noted. But the mantles I have forged are not subject to the ebb and flow of choice, or circumstance.”

More questions. Should I push, or be content? This Elder almost speaks openly.

A momentary pause, and the chance slipped through his fingers.

“Ah-” she noted. “My breakfast is emptied. A shame.”

Fu slid back his chair, dropping to a knee. “This junior extends his gratitude for the Elder’s notice.”

The when escaped his notice, but at the room’s end the woman picked up a broom. A tight wad of dust entwined between bristles. “Yes, yes,” waved the Elder, passing an eye to his clothes. “Now, I’m not unreasonable. I’ll forgive this dishevelment- but see to it that you are appropriate for inauguration. That charming youth, Jinjie, will call for you soon.”

🀧

The management of his obligations had Fu torn between bathing, cultivating to mend the remainder of his wounds, and composing himself from the visit itself. A certain, fledgling distaste for powerful older women had his gut in a slow churn, and he could not fathom why he had garnered such attention.

A Sect Elder.

Of the same ken as [Gleeful Viper]. The unknown [Thrice Clouded Boa].

What interest was he?

Fu shook it off. For he was moments away from his freedom.

The Elder had indeed spoken true, as upon return to his lodgings he was greeted with a stony-faced messenger. Another Initiate that had led him beyond the open-sky courtyard. And it was here he climbed, mounting a set of ornate steps.

Inauguration at the peak.

A true peak, he found, as emergence had Fu at the pinnacle of the Clouded Court Squads buildings.

Low slung cloud held the emerging sun behind a thickened fugue, clotting what skies might be seen from this vantage. Over the four surrounding railings. The tended stone gardens. Thick enough yet to erase the ever-looming, titanic spear above.

No, all of note in this shrouded court were the figures, of which Fu noted one. Master Jinjie, his poisoner, presiding at one end.

“Approach, Initiate.”

Moisture was quick to break against Fu’s skin in his few steps forward, and he felt a coming chill as he bore a knee for his Senior.

“Initiate Gao Fu,” said Jinjie. A sneer evident, despite how Fu did not look upon him. “Aged. Unpunctual. The rot beneath a serpent’s scales. Of this I spoke, did I not?”

“Yes, senior.”

The world flashed white. No longer solely clouds. But a rushing force, internal- as if his very organs were threatening to boil.

“You dare!” snapped Jinjie. “Senior. A show of his belly and a dog thinks himself noble. You forget yourself.”

Fu’s [Hundred Immunities Fruit] was warring within him, even as this sensation abated. The treasure was fighting against Jinjie’s Sunset Venom, which now roiled as if tea on a stove. It had him doubled over, his face slickened against the damp marble floor.

And-

A long forgotten anger washed back in the break.

The Qi in Fu’s [Dantian] blew, now a tempest where but a breeze would stir before. His [Half Cloud Step], threatening to break free of the [Clouded Ghost Arts].

What purpose did striking him have?

Have I not done all that I have been asked?

Would he fail here, by the hand of this petulant brute?

He felt his fingernails dragging, his knuckles twitching in formation.

They drew tighter until clenched.

His [Hundred Immunities Fruit] no longer strove so hard. An external force was reducing the poison in his veins.

He-

Senior Jinjie was goading him, and like a child, it had overcome him.

Then, the clouds hissed.

Beyond his vision, a shudder put Jinjie back a step. Bereft of any suppressive art, or long-honed skill. And this lessened his hold to such a degree that Fu could default to a gasp-riddled bow.

“A mockery, this,” came a clear and sudden whisper. “A debasement of the Cloudy Serpent Sect.”

“Mistress?”

The voice carried upon the nearby clouds, echoing.

And heat came, in Qi and in warmth.

What moisture had gathered on Fu’s skin drew into steam, rising. The ground, next, as the marble bled as if it wished to be long-dried bone.

Another fresh trial? Another hell? I wish to be toyed with no longer!

“Are we not a righteous Sect?” queried this Mistress. A moniker well known, and almost defined by a shared temperament of all who bore it. “Why do you lay hands on this Initiate?”

The senior’s voice solidified, losing the tamber of surprise. “With respect, Mistress. The discipline of Initiates falls well under my mandate, and a cur of this ilk-”

“Of what ilk? The ilk that completes his assigned task before those in your stable? One that might reap the rewards due from those given your favour?” The woman came to Fu’s ear, her breath, a hiss. “The floor is too cold, and too inhospitable a fruit for Gao Fu’s labour. Lift your head.”

There are more mysteries beneath the Heavens.

In these troubled times, he recalled that thought having passed only several days prior. On their first meeting. Yunhan’s [Spirit Serpent], his Mistress, stood at Fu’s side. Stray specks of sand atop her onyx robes.

“Junior Jinjie,” she voiced, directing her attention elsewhere. “I would hear an evaluation of this Initiate’s mission.”

“Again, with respect, the Initiate is yet to be disciplined for his disobedience,” came the thin-lipped retort. “As I have stated, Mistress-”

“Still you challenge me on this, junior? These actions cause me to lose much face. Absence has boldened you, I spy no longer the snivelling youth of yestermoons.”

Jinjie firmed. “The by-laws state that any disciple shown to lack the proper decorum in the presence of their seniors is to be swiftly corrected, with appropriate, and immediate action. Adherence to our codex is paramount.”

“Yet no by-law was broken,” she offered.

“The dog named me Senior.

As though I were among the common dregs of outer disciples. I instruct, I hold the station of Master.” The man sneered, shedding the rear of his hand from within his robes. “His history has him ill-suited to even gaze upon the Sect, and these actions confirm it.

“Merit judges all, you foolish child.” Her [Intent] flooded the space, staining the air itself a malefic shade of black. But Fu was spared what ill effects it conjured, and instead, embraced with gentle warmth.

But it fell like rain. A furnace held in rivulets, and Jinjie fell.

“Forgive-” he spluttered, coughing up blood. “Me- Mistress.”

“What junior Jinjie fails to see is that Initiate Gao Fu owes him no title, already he is bound to a Master. His address was proper. Too quick does your hand move to strike, where eyes alone might well have gleaned the truth. Actions such as this are not exemplary of the Clouded Court Squads. ”

Fu felt the Mistress’ ire leave the air, and the depth of darkness lessened. A light shower, now.

“Mistress. Forgive me,” he repeated. “My eyes were to the honour of the Sect.”

“Striking Initiates cultivates honour? No. Reparations must be made. Junior Jinjie, you will continue Gao Fu’s inauguration without further discourse.”

A sop of red gushed from one side of Jinjie’s mouth, but he made his best effort to turn composed. Despite how apparent the splatters were upon his pallid skin.

“Initiate Gao Fu,” he began, slurred. “As of this morning the Clouded Court Squads have confirmed the completion of your first mission. The White Blossom Teahouse, Li Chengxi. Thus securing your place within our branch.”

A pause came.

“Gratitude, senior.”

Jinjie’s eyes creased. “Initial observations state that the woman ran afoul of her own alchemy, and the Warrior’s Association has seen fit to judge her death as such. Breakages to her bones and facial structure indicate the initial blast of a volatile refinement process had damaged her to such an extent that the following fog of [Poison Qi] proved inescapable.”

“Gao Fu has left no suspicions,” the Mistress stated.

“As you say, Mistress. Minor damage to the store’s interior has been attributed to the refinement backlash, and the mortals have made no claims to another presence within, nor suggested such a thing be possible. The mission was well executed, for an Initiate.”

Certain thoughts on the trail he might leave hadtroubled Fu, to an extent. But here, he subdued a smile. The alignment of such circumstance was a fluke, truly, but he would take the Heaven’s favour where it was offered if his betters wished to think this premeditated.

“For an Initiate, yes,” confirmed the Mistress. “But junior Jinjie will continue. There is merit beyond this.”

Oh?

The slur of Jinjie’s speech worsened through gritted teeth. “Initiate Gao Fu has placed third amongst this [Season’s] influx, and will be… rewarded. As is fitting.”

Third? Among all the Initiates?

Jinjie conducted a two-fingered wave, materialising the contents of a spatial ring. A quick affair, leaving an ornate, arm-length chest before him. Plain, with no visible inlay save for a stylized swirl upon the hinges. His second wave had it open.

A black ensemble was folded inside. Unaffiliated Sect robes, in the tang style that he wore now. Atop it nestled three pills of emerald green, their faint glow, fading upon the cloth where they were set.

And a jade band.

“Gao Fu has fulfilled his obligations,” spoke the Mistress, and she set a hand upon his shoulder.

The sun’s heat was contained within her fingertips, and it surged. Qi, and [Intent] in gentle caress, shot through his [Channels]. Fu stiffened as it reached his chest, and the energy began to draw.

His [Hundred Immunities Fruit] pulsed.

“The Sunset Venom will trouble you no longer,” she said. Her tone, full of knowing. “Junior Jinjie, you will deliver the final words.”

Fu stammered his gratitude before the man spoke once more. Half-listening through newfound worry.

“By completion, Gao Fu has risen from Initiate. Here stands a full-fledged ghost, named disciple, should they be named at all,” Jinjie intoned. “The Clouded Court Squads welcomes you into our fold, junior brother.”

The Mistress flashed her teeth.

🀧

Fu rubbed where the ring had tightened upon his thumb. The discrete jade band, almost hidden against the tone of his skin.

A minor presence of an [Array] faintly pulsed there.

Perhaps this caused the discomfort.

Interred [Dao Principles] or a form of Qi was causing his flesh to tingle, though he was certain that time would have him used to it. He certainly could not blame the agitation he felt on his new clothes, for much like the ring, they had re-sized by some wonder of craftsman’s skill.

With a minor thought, Fu cast his hand over the table again.

Wonders.

Upon it, ‘The Clear Sky Empire’ materialised.

He repeated the gesture.

It vanished within his ring.

“Wonders,” he said aloud.

One by one, Fu interred his entire collection within the spatial ring. His tomes, his techniques, his pills; both new and unused, and his chain. All of his belongings vanished. Much as Master Jinjie’s had, the change brought no light. Nor did the ambient Qi change in any fashion save for within him. He felt it, loosely, some complexity of [Dao] that negated its signature completely.

Which he supposed fitting, for an assassin.

“Hushi,” Fu called. “Are you well?”

The octopus was resting atop his bunk, consternate. Fu came up beside him, no longer wishing to dwell on the matter. He placed a comforting hand, proffered so his Bond might join him in usual form.

An image flashed through their link. Of Yuqi, and an impression of a warm embrace. It flitted, slowly. Recent pictures of their time in the Divine Clouded Mountain, of their walk through the streets and moments shared.

Feng laughing, Yuling chastising him. And there came the pang, again.

Hushi’s eight arms were not known to slip, but he impressed the sensation with such clarity that a [Dao] might well have formed.

Loss.

Fu could only nod. “We do what we must.”

The octopus knew this well, and as ever, his insight was not lost on Fu. His arms were splayed, with the fore two stretched almost in opposition. For a final gift had greeted his return, and Hushi’s gaze lingered on what was now left in its place.

With a wave, the douli was stowed in his ring, and the pair left.

The [Summer] air was thick beyond the shade of his lodgings, stifling, for some. More so, when Fu crossed the open-sky courtyard, passing his fell-

Passing his juniors, who strained in a hardship of exercises. Baizhou at their helm, awash in cruel sunlight, sneering at their incompetence.

“What use does the Sect for you, hmm? Ghosts in three [Seasons] of four?” she chided. “[Summer] is not yet half over, how shameful.”

Fu pulled down the brim of his gift, a blackened affair. Prime for shutting out the unnecessary. He would keep it low, for now. At least until the contribution board was in sight.

Then, it would lift.

And he would take all that he might see beyond it.