Yunhan offered no instruction in his weapon forms, though allowed free use of the mannequins within what Fu now had a view of as his own training hall. The Elder, nameless, was the sole visitor to this hellish, sandy realm aside from Fu. But her visitation had stopped with the first, leaving them in solitude.

Hours were murky things now. Lost between sleep deprivation, training, and the encroaching worry of his Sect-appointed target’s date of… delivery.

By the time [Summer] broke however, Fu found that a mere three days had passed. Still, he continued with his blows.

At the edge of his fist, joined by tarnished knuckles, the wooden tree absorbed his blows. A staunch, many-armed pillar of no higher height than he. Yet with twice as many limbs. Lacking reflections of a true body in the wayward positioning of each.

The [Stifling Stream Revolutions] crashed his hands forwards, followed again by snapping kicks from the lowest stance before he rounded. His target did not turn, but the effect of a wary target was conjured in its rear facing arms, truncheons that Fu struck with the same fervour.

Improvements he was making on the fly, minor things without input from Yunhan.

Other things weighed his mind too sharply to have counted each foe that he had faced thus far, or to even recall them. Though with this training implement he might adjust for the other in combat, which far transcended solitary practice of forms wherein no feedback was given.

He found it remarkable in its simplicity, wondering if any were available for his own room.

“When you reach more than the [Initiate] realm of [Prowess] it will be time to progress the training. Only so much can be gleaned from striking lifeless wood.”

Markedly sweaty, Fu nodded. The cultivation effect from his technique was a draining force, spending him quickly. He could feel his [Inner Qi] spiral through his [Channels] with each cumulative blow. Luckily, it was revelatory for his stagnant progress.

“I am grateful for the opportunity,” Fu returned.

Yunhan hooked a finger to peel down his scarves. “That is enough for fist techniques, Gao Fu. Approach the sand, I would measure your [Clouded Ghost Arts].”

Great unease.

Fu stood at the pit’s edge, no change overcoming him. The [Qi Suppression Art] bore no differences from a moment ago.

“Gao Fu,” bid Yunhan. In the space of a few moments, a searching Qi pulsed from him. Loud, and evident, for Fu’s benefit. “You have used the Open Eye poison provided each night?”

It was as though his [Hundred Immunities Fruit] was a heated beacon, then. Brimming with inner light at the mere mention of nourishment. Fu was currently grateful for his sheen of perspiration as it was a suitable mask.

“I have.”

Yunhan did not so much as blink. Boring an expectant hole in Fu’s forehead.

“Before I became a cultivator I was stung more than once by toxic fish. It has made me tolerant of much. Unless it is by design, the Open Eye poison lasts for no more than a breath.”

“Why do these words sound practised?” asked Yunhan.

And the desert heat had Fu run cold.

“A [Bloodline], or treasure you wish to hide? Watch where you spout such nonsense, Gao Fu, if you’d compare Sect alchemy to mortal fish.” Yunhan’s tone was filled with neutrality. Never admonishing. “I will see to it that you receive a stronger dose. A [Formation Realm] tincture. Not uncommon for those with [Poison Affinity] or certain [Dao].”

Fu blinked. “Gratitude, brother Yunhan.”

“Please,” he waved away. “We are tied, and what pride I hold left will not have you fail.”

Strange words. But if he entitles me secrecy, then I would do the same.

Yunhan put the matter behind him quickly, and his eyes to the rafters. Where Hushi and his [Spirit Serpent] were perched. Meditative. Subtle hints of [Intent] and flaring [Dao] forming a corona around each.

“Until your [Clouded Ghost Arts] is formed we cannot proceed,” he said. “For the past two nights you have cleared your tasks with fishwives. Indeed, idle gossip is powerful. Telling, though it is, of your lacking deduction. Your past reveals you, and must be shored up. Formalities, traditions- local and land-wide. A ghost cannot walk with the crowd if it parts at his difference.”

Hushi descended from the rafters in tow of the [Spirit Serpent].

“We are to…” Fu caught Yunhan’s shiver, noting the source as an open door. A cooling draft as it was parted.

There stood the Elder, smiling gently as another woman tended to the entrance. Rightly allowing the senior first access, and affording her a clear space to announce her next words. “The second.”

🀧

[Summer] held a more immediate effect on Fu as they wound the streets of the Four Corners Prefecture. Most profound in how the Qi proved to be a denser sort, shed of [Spring’s] emergent excitement.

Heavier, if still willing to be interred in his [Dantian].

The hour approached early afternoon, and already could the shift be seen. Routine, as it always was.

Toggles were pulled low on the joins of robes they passed, with chests exposed, sleeves rolled, and wide-brimmed hats in immediate fashion to combat the sun’s beating rays. For those with a lack of propriety, in any case.

Cultivators of all stripes conformed to the shaded canopies that were drawn from eave to eave. Be this sheets of fine silk from storefronts, or meagre bolts of cloth slung above booths in various corners and alleys.

Though Fu doubted [Seasonal], mortal plights truly troubled them.

Yunhan’s features only crested the top of his scarf, and he had on a cloak of the same fashion that he had urged both Fu and this newest addition to wear.

The woman, a slender Vajra, with similar adornment of an eye that Adhrit had held. Seeking the Adamantine View, as he had named it. An Unnumbered, and on the path of [Spirit] as his erstwhile comrade had tread.

“Sister Niharika,” he said. “I have yet to show gratitude for your aid in our initiation.”

She returned a wan smile, attentive more to the leading Yunhan than the effort Fu had placed in conversation.

Fu stole a longer look at her. Her [Ink], a disparate crescent at one eye, was a shade reminiscent of pansies. The deep purple almost a bloated bruise to detract from her high, sharp cheekbones.

Older than my children. Older yet than junior Mei. But at [Core Formation], if she was entered into the Initiation with me. No halted age has taken her yet.

After leaving the Clouded Court Squads the trio had taken to the streets, and had continued to walk for many li in near silence. Fu had expected Yunhan’s instruction to begin at this moment, whatever form it might take. A note, perhaps, or remark on passing structures. Peoples or organization.

His tongue held until their destination was met. In the dimming sun, hours later. With his debt of Contribution Points reset, Fu’s thoughts grew fractious at this supposed waste of time. But so it was that Yunhan stopped them at an unseen edge. One worn railing of stone that gave way to sights that the city’s facade had masked.

One singular plateau to surround the titanic spear. Fragmented crags at the edges, splashed as though the weapon was dropped by the Heavens themselves. And there, a litter of gemstones, in uncountable number. Constellations of a vibrant mint that streamed what westerly sunlight could escape the intricate shaft.

“To the rooftops,” said Yunhan.

At the command Fu directed his stare, intent on discovering the secret behind the man’s ability to disappear. Miserable in his attempt to glean secrets from an already empty space. He took to the surrounding roofs with some ease, his [Half Cloud Step] clearing the stories to deliver him to Yunhan’s side.

Shortly followed by Niharika. No [Art] chosen, as he could see.

“As before, Gao Fu,” Yunhan said, mumbled.

“I see a spear that pierces the clouds. But I cannot name it. There is a… district above our own, with buildings, set on a bed of crystal.”

“Niharika.”

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

Seconds passed without answer.

“Niharika,” repeated Yunhan, revealing his mouth. The woman’s gaze was put there swiftly, flocking then to the eyes of her Senior. “Did you read Gao Fu’s observations?”

Read.

At her nod, Yunhan only said, “Elaborate.”

Fu felt his features twist marginally at the coming words, as he could not equate it to anything he had previously heard. Clear, if lacking in tone or inflection.

“That is the Four Shaded Spear. Ahead are the Four Corners that give the Prefecture its name. The Cloudy Serpent Sect. The Thirty Second Seat. The Lotus Blade Sect. The abode of the [Venerable Reed Sage] and his alchemists.”

Yunhan frowned as he further uncluttered his face, his shoulders bunched. “It is so. Well minded. Four Corners beneath a spear of the same number. Niharika, tell the pertinent history, and do so concisely.”

“Fable is all I might deliver correctly.”

“Then choose fable.”

Niharika gave the same wan smile. “Once the [Two that do not Seek] met upon the road after many millennia apart,” she began, morphing into quotations that were no different from her usual pattern of speaking. “Sister. Brother. They both acknowledged. ‘In my travels I have found the [Winter] of the South to be harsher’. ‘In my travels to the sanded North I know you speak false’. ‘The seekers will know a colder bite in this [Dao] should they settle there. A [Winter] of [Winters]’. ‘No bite is colder than one oft to know warmth. A [Winter] of [Summer]’.”

Nonetheless intrigued to hear a name listed in his readings, Fu would not describe this as concise.

“One rubbed their chin. ‘A [Winter] of [Autumn] chills all gained in abundant [Summer]’. ‘Yet a [Winter] of [Spring] prolongs all that is lost’. The [Two that do not Seek] were in rare agreeance. ‘One half of your qiang’. ‘If you are to push it’. Thus the spear was interred.”

Yunhan weighed the story. “The Four Shaded Spear has held its vigil here for millenia, this much is true. At a time beyond belief, an origin, when the [Clouded Serpent Queen] walked the land Sectless and young. To be based in the Four Corners Prefecture, I suppose no lesson is needed more.”

Both initiates followed their senior as he fled. Flying across the rooftops.

Close-knit, of the type that required little in the way of vertical navigation. However the city’s scale played against their swiftness, and wherever Yunhan led proved far from their original spot. A nigh-vanished dusk bathing their next rest.

Another rooftop, north on the spear’s radial. “The [Dao of Seasons],” Yunhan announced. Well warmed from their flight, Fu tried to compose himself. But the man continued. “Being of no alchemist’s stock, nor true Daoist claim, I know little of the workings. But the Four Shaded Spear has a characteristic different from any other. In each corner is a shadow of a [Season], perpetual. As Niharika’s fable addressed.”

“A shadow of a [Season],” Fu said, more to voice it aloud. “A [Winter] of [Winter]?” Niharika’s watch passed quickly between his mouth and eyes. So he repeated his words. “A [Winter] of [Winter]?”

Her head inclined by a mite. No wan smile forming, but a fledgling warmth in her eye.

“The Prefecture is unique for more reasons than this,” said Yunhan. “Look to the North. [Venerable Reed Sage], and his dominion of [Spring]. East, the Clouded Serpent Sect and their dominion of [Summer]. South, and [Autumn], The Thirty Second’s. Finally, the West. The Lotus Blade Sect, and [Winter]. A malefic fang, wedged. That, Initiates, is where the Clear Sky Empire holds no sway. For its righteous territory ends at the edge of North, and its twinned pole.”

This hung as thick as fog.

As within Fu’s mind there sprawled a list. Exhaustive. Lined, filed, and arrayed in unconscious order of importance.

Family. Hushi. Debt. Peace. Technique. Cultivation.

Questions.

His tomes left him with many.

His current, stating no lands existed within comprehensible distance that were not of the Clear Sky Empire. On what connection his tormenter, the [Gleeful Viper] held to this [Clouded Serpent Queen].

The [Cherry River] inheritors and Grandmother Hua’s tie to them by [Dao Name].

Countless.

“Troubled, Gao Fu?” came Yunhan, sounding in repetition. Though truthfully, Hushi was the one to stir him, and he took a breath to adjust.

“My reading-” But he stopped. “Apologies, brother Yunhan. In a group of many words, there is bound to be a mistake among them.”

“Truth well spoken if not targeted at your senior,” he replied. “Ask on this later. If reading is your strength, there are histories that would help this lesson. From your confusion, I would guess they are of a more recent time. Or less tainted by wrong opinion.”

Fu exchanged his gratitude, and allowed Yunhan to continue.

“Commit the hegemony, and influence of these Corners to memory. The [Seasons]. A boundary, and how this might affect your tasks. Ah, we stray for knowledge that will shortly become apparent. Come. The night has yet begun.”

🀧

The efficiency of Yunhan’s promise was surprising to Fu, finding that the dose of poison he now sniffed by his bedside was of a higher strength. His [Hundred Immunities Fruit] once more prickling with excitement.

Almost at once, however, Fu stashed it. Moving to the rooftops instead.

As he mounted the lip of the Clouded Court Squad’s building, he chanced upon a handful of other cultivators. Arrayed at random, and in the same lotus position he would soon adopt. All [Air Affinity], he mused, or some higher form with it as a component.

Given that grandeur was the chief commonality among most structures that filled his day, he was not troubled to find a distant spot for his own use. So there, he sat, and sent his gaze inward.

Hushi spilled comfortably across his lap, tentatively firm where suckers met cloth. And together, they breathed. A draw of surrounding Qi travelled inwards, his [Ink] warming as the conduit for his [Dantian].

This air held memories of [Spring’s] freshness, not fully claimed by the stifling heat that came with its following [Season]. Notes there, of cold.

Fu then searched for the sensation of earlier. The notion revealed with his [Stifling Stream Revolutions].

When swirling [Air Qi] brimmed within him, he coerced its mass to the outer edges of his [Channels].

And further.

The [Meridians] he had cleansed thus far were governing organs, his kidneys, liver, and by Long’s previous instruction, his lungs would come soon. On to bones, thereafter. Though unlike previous sessions he had no direct route to take.

In a way these movements now were akin to his [Half Cloud Step], a suffusion of Qi, blown though the organs to be delivered to what they governed. Blood, intestines, and shallow entry into interior flesh.

At his lap, Hushi continued his draw. A richness of [Air Qi] streaming in to reinforce Fu’s efforts.

The fisherman was urging all of his inner reserves to saturate his muscles. Albeit, the nature of his Qi had this prove difficult. Ephemeral, and cloud-like, it scarcely wished to be contained much less entombed.

Thus over the course of an hour, Fu’s felt as though his mind was clamped in a vice. Pressure mounted for his effort, and he was well damp with sweat. But he could see it.

A [Node], in his mind’s eye as he had glimpsed.

Queer connections were forming an illusory shell above his latest [Meridian]. Some second sphere that touched a finger’s width from its outer edge. Fading into existence, as a lit wick might struggle against the wind.

The pressure spread down the nape of his neck now, and he feared something was amiss.

He made to slow and-

Hushi constricted Fu’s thighs. A physical warning alongside his impression. Urgent enough to forestall it. Yet Fu could feel his skin mulching the further he pushed his [Inner Qi].

And it was excruciating.

Fu gasped out a breath. Wet upon his lips. A trickle on his chin. Rivulets dashing on his neck in regular rhythm.

The shell was half formed now, the [Node].

Still, Hushi wound tighter and tighter. Pain evident in the octopus, for his other limbs were rigid and half-spasming.

The wind does not burrow. It crashes as a wave, where it pleases. Is this wrong, to… bottle it? Should it flow free?

“Hushi,” Fu ground though clenched teeth. “Peace, brother. Peace.” His hands went to the octopus, cradling his crown. The dregs of an inhalation entered his lungs, and another, upon which Fu teased Hushi’s body into rhythm.

Regular breaths.

With a hold on his further points of suffusion he ceased their movement, splitting his attention to the intake. Enkindling a memory.

Feng, acting his age of eight moons upon the boat. Just the pair of them, a [Spring] long since passed. “Take care, son” he had called. The sail held a half-pocket of wind, and their pace was steady for it.

A net was in Fu’s hand, ready to be set to trail. Though thoughts were on his son, pridefully so. The young boy was bent over the edge, delighting as he plunged his hand into the lake’s water as it rushed by. Foolish, if not for how he had banded his legs around the bench.

Fu laughed as a second gust met the apparent wind in his sail, having his boat lurch. A cry sounded, and Feng pulled his sopping wet face free a moment later. Edging to the center of the bench.

“Care,” warned Fu, with a grin.

[Inner Qi] dispersed further into Fu’s muscles, driven by such a secondary force. Urged from the rear with no direction. And this allowed the fickle [Air Qi] to find its own purchase.

The pressure did not abate, then, but spread in even keel. To three quarters of a shell, and in agonising minutes. Hours, perhaps.

To completion.

Fu collapsed to the rooftop, his breath now fled. The cold was welcoming, even if this was not of his choosing. As his muscles were… tightening. Spasming, as Hushi’s had, and- He could no longer track the sensations, for they came all at once.

[Air Qi] churned through his exterior organs as though he had swallowed a breeze, and they felt limp. Or-

Light.

He writhed a mite, dancing at his hips to find that he held full control of his body. Only that the feel of it was queer. So, with care, he scrambled to sit. “Hushi,” he whispered. “Are you well?”

The octopus shuddered, melting further into Fu’s lap with an impression of weary contentment. Prompting the fisherman to nod and rest a hand on his Bond.

A second nod shocked him, dazing him with glints of orange light.

Behind the monolithic Four Shaded Spear burned a morning sun, creeping a juvenile glow above the skyline. Hours had passed, escaping his notice. Such was the way of things when cultivating.

Yunhan would be waiting.

But-

[Ink]

Teal Supple Physique?

Hushi offered little in the way of explanation, and so Fu read on.

Fu looked inward, both searching, and trying to recall where he had read the term Qi impartment before. “Qi Impartment,” he whispered, unable to feel a reaction in his lobes. He shook himself, returning to his [Channels].

Grinning, as he sensed a scratching of [Impurities] at the edge of his most recent [Meridian]. No doubt revealed by purifying this latest [Node].

Progress, he thought. Then he rose, unceremoniously tumbling from the rooftop on fleet, unsteady soles.