Only once was this daoist so blessed as to see the Clear Sky Empress.

It could be recalled how fateful a thing it was, for seldom do the Heavens cross the paths of those they do not desire to.

And forever, is this daoist grateful.

There came a moment, in seclusion, where the [Demons] spilled from the land itself. A belch of earth, a pustule - burst, and there they did appear.

Swarming. [Gu] waxed to devour the restless Qi. Fresh desert shoots, borne of [Spring], and devoured as they grew.

A tragedy of corruption to leave a barren land parched, for this Daoist had interred himself in reflection upon the Sage Red Peaks at the boundary of meeting lands.

Left - Scorched sands, like mortal dust. And right - a valley of plenty. Verdant, and full.

This daoist stood, incensed, for the [Dao], and the [Two that do not Seek] held no love for such immortal foes. Righteous anger moved his legs. His partners, desperate to slake their vengeance.

“The [Dao]?” pierced the Empress’ voice.

Minds, to her, as readable as the clear skies.

“This Seventy Fifth-rate Daoist is unworthy to be in the Empress’ presence,” were the words spoken.

“The [Dao] are above hatred. You should know this, Master Vajra.”

Below the demons devoured, termites to life and Qi, soon to descend on the plentiful lands she held as her own. A future that grew to become present, and past, in a span where this Daoist knew he could not lift his head.

But a declaration came, and this daoist allowed his wonting gaze to glimpse all that occurred when “Enough,” was spoken.

When [Spring] and the [Tyranny of Seasons] bowed to the [Empress Above All]. Heaven’s equal.

Unmaking the desert. The valley. The [Season] itself.

Casting the [Demons] into their rightful oblivion as a talon touched upon the Sage Red Peaks, and [Winter] arrived in its wake.

- “The Clear Sky Empire,” by Lord Seventy Fifth.

The [Spirit Ape], a veridian, oblong beast, did not retaliate. No, instead it lumbered through the shattered balustrade of the pagoda, placing its almost cloak-like, densely haired arms around Feng.

Where it huffed in challenge.

Fu took a long stare at several components of the scene. From the cringing face of his son, to what appeared to be his [Spirit Beast]. His Bond. And then to…

Mei?

A youthful woman with the bearing of his departed love hummed, a cuckoo upon her shoulder. “So swiftly have you returned from the [Mystic Realm]. I see the experience has left you sufficiently brutish.”

“Grandmother Hua,” acknowledged Fu. Though if this oddity of statement was true, he could not rightly say. But heedless, he simmered his [Art], coming to a knee before Feng. “My son, have I injured you?”

It was a man that rose then. Not one possessing a full splay of moons, but in bearing and appearance. “Father, I greet you.” One hand was clenched around his wrist. The phantom of pain to mirror where his Bond had been struck. “Paxing will recover, though he is in awe at the speed of your blows.”

When would my son speak of such things? To notice the speed of a kick. What has this past [Season] trialled him with?

“Paxing.” Fu saw how the ape had bolted his arms before Feng.

A set of haired pillars that might ward off any danger.

The fisherman bowed low. “I thank you, Paxing. A cove, I see now, to protect the little fish I hold dear from passing storms.”

The ape receded then, in part. “He is glad of your words, Father.”

“Come, son, let your Father look at how you have grown.”

Feng obeyed, and shed the cowl of Paxing’s arms. And more. For if once there was a film upon Fu’s eyes wherein he saw only his child, it was now cast aside.

Here stood a cultivator. One of firm muscle atop lean bones, of straight spine and a handsomeness that only a [Season’s] passing had Feng grow into. Though Fu had always known his son to lead a path through many broken hearts.

Placing his hand atop Feng’s head, he tugged gently at the corded knot there. With so many words to say, and a wealth of emotions, he found himself reverting to fatherly teasing. “Careful, son, if this were to fall I might think you your sisters.”

“Father!” he exclaimed, though it was good natured and warm. Feng welcomed an embrace that brought him tight to his father’s chest, lasting long moments.

This was separated by Grandmother Hua under the hum of audible irritation. “Sweet Feng,” she said, unfurling a hand no more weathered or wrinkled than her grandson’s. “Take this, and see that our table will not be bare. It would be prudent to gather Yuqi and Yuling’er before you return.”

A twitch pulled at Fu’s eyelid.

Feng bowed cordially, accepting no less than three [Spirit Stones]. “Yes, Grandmother. Father, will you accompany me?”

What was strange then was how Fu lingered to hear Grandmother Hua’s words. If only for a heartbeat before reconsidering. “I will, son. But you will have to be my guide.”

🀦

“Divine Clouded Mountain, eh? A better name for an area than the Cloudy Serpent Sect City,” said Fu, clapping his son on the shoulder. “Regardless, I am impressed you can find your way about these streets.”

“[Spring] makes the clouds worse, but if you follow the lanterns it is not so hard.”

A glow of sunlight suffused the higher clouds with an orange tinge, marking the time to be nearing noon. Those around Fu had no trouble in their navigation, and barely narrowed their eyes against such aggressive luminosity.

It held more similarities with the [Green Blight Valley] than he was comfortable with, and this was reflected in his pace.

“Have you been treated well, Feng? You, and your sisters? Grandmother Hua has continued her caretaking?” he asked.

Feng nodded. “It’s- it has been a new journey. That is how Grandmother describes it.”

“That is not what I asked. Come, speak.”

“Grandmother treats us well. It is not much different from Thousand Shore City… but it is at the same time.”

Fu tightened his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But you are doing well? The Cloudy Serpent Sect, do they interfere?”

“No, no, Father. Other than showing us to our lodgings they do not come around. I-” A hold seemed to have taken on Feng’s tongue, as it was well tied. “We appreciate everything that you do for us.”

What is this? He seems fearful of speaking.

The pair alighted from the path to a nearby stall, bringing a medley of spices into Fu’s [Senses]. Distinct now, where walking had myriad scents merge.

“Grandmother says that this woman might be the only chef in the region that knows how to fold dough,” informed Feng. With a small gesture, he parted from his father to begin negotiations over the array of steamed buns upon her table.

This, Fu watched intently.

Well mannered, as always. But, there is weight on his shoulders.

In a moment Fu was presented with a small bamboo box, warm to the touch. But he disregarded the mouth-watering it induced. “Son,” he said. “You look as though a raincloud might burst upon your head at any step. Have so many [Seasons] passed that we are strangers? Tell me your troubles.”

Paxing, who trailed behind at a lumber, pressed tight to the boy’s back. “My father would think me shameful.”

“When has such a thing ever been thought?” Fu nudged his son, welcoming him to a vacant stairway some few paces from the stall.

Feng sat willingly, though his face was hesitant. “I would never lie to you. We are well, and Grandmother is only different in… she is young looking now.”

“So, something else.”

“I- we- ah,” Feng mumbled. “We are what you wanted of us, Father.”

This had Fu arch a brow.

“Cultivators. Yuqi and Yuling are the same. We’re- we are walking the path against the Heavens. Just like you would say back… home. On the boat. This is what you wished for us.”

There was more to come, clearly, and so Fu waited for a long moment for his son to compose himself properly. Offering another squeeze nonetheless.

“Grandmother says my sisters are blessed with talent. And I watch them every day. At lessons, or when Grandmother instructs them in [Arts] or her techniques. It is easy for them. They can do what is asked like a fish swims in water.” Paxing hugged close then, brushing Fu’s arm as he did. “All the trouble you go through, and they make use of it.”

“And you do not?”

“I am useless,” said Feng. “Wasting what- I know, Father. My sisters know too. We- it is as though everyone forgets. Like the Sect has done us a favor. But they haven’t. They’ve killed, and kidnapped, and destroyed- and Uncle Jing, my friends, the seniors and their wives that bought our fish, and the-”

Fu hauled Feng into his chest, sidelong. “Peace, son. Peace.”

“Useless,” he whimpered. “See Father! You are troubled every day, and Grandmother only nods and hums. I am trying to work hard because that is-”

Seen through strands of Feng’s hair, the [Three Eyed Spying Array] stole much of Fu’s attention. Blatant on the arm that cradled his son. Yet he damned it in favour of true importance.

“The Sect is a horror,” he announced. “Not one man from Thousand Shore City that yet lives does not know this.”

A breath caught in Feng’s chest.

“But we go on, as that is what we must do, son. My heart pangs for Uncle Jing, and the reek of his wine-rich breath. Though, with no shame, my thoughts have only dwelled on you and your sisters.”

His son did not ask why, and Fu thought it old of him. Perhaps wise beyond years. And he was saddened greatly.

That Feng must live in a world where the powerful might do as they please, and worse, that he had come to accept such truth without question.

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“I am trying, Father, I am. I listen to Grandmother, I cultivate with Paxing.” Feng broke from his father’s gaze. “Because if I work hard I could join you. In the Divine Clouded Mountain those my age are outer disciples already. Inner, sometimes. But they are like you. Like my sisters. And my shame-”

“Feng, breathe.” Stricken with his own shame, Fu felt Hushi tighten in comfort. “Forget this nonsense of shame, and uselessness.”

“Fath-”

“Never, do I wish for you to join me,” he cut. “Do you understand?”

His son’s eyes glistened with no small amount of hurt. “The debt, Father. I am a man of the Gao clan, it is my duty.”

Mei, was I blind to what I have instilled in our son?

Fu sighed, for he had a choice here. One that might mold his son. All he desired was to show kindness, or lie and dye the truth with a wash of roses. However, this would be a disservice, and a… coddling.

“Cultivation. Do you know why my boat steered to it? Why I fished until my hands were bloodied?” he asked, foregoing any time Feng might have to answer. “For the freedom it provides, Feng. So you may choose your duty, when that time comes. Not that you might squander it, and become embroiled in my own. Pride for you warmed me through many a storm, and through the troubles I now face. Thoughts as you have now, to act upon them, that

would bring shame.”

Paxing went rigid at the harsh tone, and his lips went rounded as if to howl.

“Spare me from these notions. Be at peace. It is a Father’s duty to pave the way for his children, not the other way around,” he continued. “I hear you, Feng, and to know that family is in your thoughts- The Heavens have blessed me, truly, to have such a son. But the horror is my foe to contend with, never yours.”

“Father, do you only say this as I am talentless?”

“I would say this were you a Sect Elder,” said Fu. “Your training, your opportunities, if thoughts of my hardship block them… then you must forget me. Grow strong, and grow happy. This is all the duty I task you with.”

Feng leaned deeper into Paxing, looking up as his Bond no doubt impressed a conversation between the pair. “And if I fail at that?”

“To fail at strength?” smiled Fu. “Grandmother would have you stand at the peak, to know the [Dao], and know immortality. Your Father would only have you reach a place that you might live with no attachments forced on you.”

“While you suffer.”

“While I fish, son. For battling a [Spirit Beast] or trading blows with a cultivator, these are no different than catching a swordfish in [Autumn].” Fu’s tone, as he tired of rejecting his son, had grown softer towards the end. His final words were a lie, and one that both men knew, but he punctuated it with a smile. “Now, we will go to your sisters. We should not incur the wrath Grandmother Hua carries towards chilled buns, could we help it, yes?”

🀦

“What have you done with my daughters!” Fu’s cry carried across the various stacks of scrolls and parchment.

“Master cultivator!” returned the Head Librarian, going so far as to swat him atop the head with a folded fan. “You forget yourself!”

Of course, Fu bowed in his apology, unable to wipe the smirk from his lips. This was not uncommon where his daughters were concerned, as he they were among the few that could have him slip from propriety.

If only to see their smiles.

“Forgive me, senior. But these eyes could not fathom the beauty of these young women!”

He turned from the elderly man, and took three strides through the surrounding stacks. A meagre collection when placed against the memory of the Sect’s Scroll Hall, and catalogued with mundane scriptures where techniques and [Arts] might have rested.

Yuqi and Yuling were there, a tome each against their breast. Horror in their eyes. “Father!” they gasped in tandem.

“How could a humble fisherman such as I be so blessed?” he said, and grinned as they entered his embrace. It was short-lived, however, and he turned to offer another apology to the Head Librarian.

Finding that his aged features had softened somewhat. A twinkle of understanding held in his narrowed eyes. “Perhaps the master cultivator might take his reunion outside, where it is more spacious?”

“Gratitude,” returned Fu.

In moments the Gao clan had entered the streets outside, where the waiting Feng smiled at his sisters. Both he and Paxing were laden with many more bamboo containers now, and Fu took his share upon arrival.

“You have returned,” said Yuling, hooking her arm around her father’s. “How were your travels, Father?”

“Dull, daughter. It is better to hear of your time spent here. Already was I surprised to meet Paxing, yet now-” Fu said, searching for both his daughter’s Bonds. “Feng tells me that all of my children are cultivators! Where are your companions?”

Hushi had melted quite comfortably into Yuqi’s arms almost at the moment of meeting, and he impressed upon Fu to look skyward. Under such a cover of cloud, he expanded his [Senses]. Yet this was to no avail, given how dense the surrounding population proved to be.

Cultivators were…

Fu parsed his lips, and devolved into using only his eyes to search. Precious few seconds passed before his suspicion was realised.

Or, perhaps, remembered.

Not a soul stands here without a Bond. Not the vagrant in that alley across, nor the man selling rice to our backs.

In quick succession there arrived two large figures, stealing down from the rooftops above. Both, sleek felines, though similar only in some characteristics. Fu broke from his observations as Yuling broke from his arm.

A welcome hand extended as her [Spirit Beast] passed its back into her range of touch.

“Nuwang,” she warned, almost chiding.

The beast had a more forceful approach than Feng’s [Spirit Ape], shown in the challenge issued to Fu as it padded forth to glare.

A prideful thing. Most tiger-like, yet lithe where they might have packed muscle, and with fur to match the first orange of morning, unstriped.

He regarded it well, and met it at his knee. “I greet you, Nuwang. To know a soul such as you is at my daughter’s back, and one so regal. Ah, it grants no small comfort.” Nuwang preened with a rise of her neck, and allowed the praise before stepping back.

Yuling gave her father an amused look. “Thank you, Father. I am glad you approve of this newest sister.”

“Gao Nuwang, Gao Paxing,” he nodded. “And Yuqi holds Gao Hushi, Uncle to all. Let me meet my final adoption, yes? Held last only by chance.”

“Yiji, Father would see you,” said Yuqi.

When Fu held the full scope of Yuqi’s [Spirit Cat] his foot edged but a half-step back. For a force within him had his [Dantian] hum with warning.

The creature held twice of Nuwang’s breadth at the shoulder, and in memory, Fu could only describe him as substantial. He lacked knowledge of all the beasts beneath the Heavens, thus again weighed Yiji against a tiger.

He was larger.

A greyness to him. A tone of charcoal if it were contained in an already cooled fire. Imposing, and…

The beast is no sharper than a broken reed.

Yiji wrinkled his nose, and stretched before seeming to notice that Fu held attention on him. And in response, startled himself into a two-step retreat.

“Father, Yiji is-” began Yuqi, unable to finish.

“Your Father knows a man such as this,” chuckled Fu. “Adhrit, of the Vajra. Yiji shares his interest in seeing dreams while waking, it seems.”

The [Spirit Cat] that was not a tiger, approached, bright with curiosity. Which left Fu wondering on just how he might greet the beast. Such qualities were not among the laudable. “I greet you, Gao Yiji.”

Yuqi waited expectantly. Eager for the praise that her sister’s Bond had received. And over three heartbeats, she failed to mask her quivering lip.

Clarity entered Yiji’s eyes on the fourth, both pupils sharpening to a point. The weight of his focus grew enormous then, and Fu became confused. The beast had pierced him with a look, and impressed an emotion unto him that came clearer than any Hushi might have conjured.

A sense of love for Yuqi, as vast and resolute as a mountain. As though what Fu’s own heart held was mirrored by the soul before him.

“To find one as you, Gao Yiji, it is more valuable than phoenix feathers. Gratitude.”

His children looked startled, wary even, showing that they knew nothing of what had passed between them.

Prompting a small laugh.

After a few moments, Feng spoke. “Father, we should hurry to the tea shop. Grandmother will be difficult if her leaves are not present at meal time.”

🀦

The way to the tea shop was paved with no difficulty but that of the swelling crowd. With the [Spring] sun glaring from its position directly above, it had called for many citizens to break for their noon-time meal.

Fu had never observed this tradition upon the boat. For each fish caught just to be eaten was less tael in his pouch.

It was frivolous waste reserved for the likes of scribes and merchants. Divine Clouded Mountain, however, and its inhabitants, were shown to practise this with no discrepancy between vocations.

The Gao clan stood three bodies back from the counter, subjected to the jovial ramblings of some uncouth, yet humorous craftsmen. Apprentices, at a guess.

“Father,” said Feng, flushed with embarrassment. “I could call you when our place is further?”

Fu laughed, sharing a look with his daughters. The vulgarity here was a thick and pungent perfume. Not a thing he would endorse, but… familiar. Reminiscent, and so much so that he almost basked in it.

Though the topic of conversation had now devolved further. “...her jade peaks! Unrivalled beneath the-”

“Brothers,” coughed Fu.

“Eh?”

Either side of the pair held a beast, a [Spirit Oxen] and a [Spirit Boar]. Their size indicated a sure strength. [Might], no doubt held in spades. They were leaned upon until Fu’s interjection, where the men turned.

“What’s this?” the first apprentice asked.

“I applaud your triumphs with this jade beauty,” smiled Fu. “Though might it be a tale better told when in closer company?”

The second apprentice looked to Yuqi and Yuling, nudging his companion. “That it might be,” he said, quickly. “I’ll apologise for my friend here. He takes manners from his Bond more than all other benefits.”

To their rear, the [Spirit Boar] scoffed.

“Ah, or he’s simply a swine himself.”

Fu laughed. “Then he must appreciate the counsel of an upstanding man as yourself. Gratitude, brother.” This prompted a swift turn, and some mutters as they showed their backs.

Dressed differently, might that have worked so well?

Soon enough their turn came, and Feng approached the counter. He politely requested all he needed from the clerk, naming leaves and mixtures that Fu had not come across.

A simple enough affair wherein the woman behind the counter walked from jar to jar, retrieving dried components from the litany or containers that lined the room.

Until Fu sighed at an interruption.

It seemed that in his recent life, such things were both as rare as mud, and the herald to further confusion. He recalled the recent arrival of the Pavillion Heads to his meeting, or of Cheng Rao to the Green Blight Bastion.

[Gleeful Viper] to Thousand Shore City.

Life was now a thing filled with unwanted arrivals.

A haughty, derisive laugh parted the line behind his family. The sound of shuffling bodies and muttered apologies.

“Shopkeep!” intoned some nasal youth, brushing clean by Fu to arrive at the counter. Two [Spirit Beasts] were in his wake, serpents each. “I have been told that you have the last ounce of [Blue Frost Ginseng] in this backwater city! Deliver it to me!”

Fu felt great shame. If only to be in the presence of one so entitled.

The clerk sighed in well-practised rhythm, but finalised Feng’s package before attending to the newcomer. “Master cultivator, I must apologise. The last of my [Blue Frost Ginseng] is long sold.”

Long sold?

With a grateful nod, Fu smiled at the woman. Within Feng’s package there was a pouch of this leaf.

“Then you must tell me the name of whoever bought it!”

“Apologies, master cultivator. Many faces pass through this humble shop,” she said, wistfully.

Fu felt a further shame, as this was no base shop. But an emporium with more wares than he might count. He knew the self-abasement and deference one would show before a cultivator well, though this had a foul taste surface in his mouth.

“You would stand in my path?” cried the cultivator. His [Spirit Serpents] rose at that, flashing to appear on the counter. In a step, he moved through Feng, pushing him a stride to the side.

“Brother,” growled Fu, and in his address he moved to right his son with one hand upon Feng's shoulder.

He did not wish for a confrontation, and this man dwelled in the [Formation Realm], but to stand idle was to allow injustice.

Thus he mused that appealing to his common sense might prevail.

The youth rounded to give a good showing of nostrils, so high his nose was raised. “Brother? You dare?” A searching pulse washed across Fu’s [Dantian]. “I see your robes. But you are a mere [Foundation Realm], and weathered like aged leather. Trash! Begone from my sight, and do not interrupt!”

Yiji came beneath Fu’s hand then, moving to impose himself between the pair. But this was dissuaded by Hushi, who was as a font of lava.

A white-hot rage impressed at Feng’s mistreatment.

“Brother,” said Fu again, and dipped his head in apology towards the clerk. “The [Blue Frost Ginseng], please, senior, might you half it?”

This, the cultivator took note of. “Half?” he sneered. “Not only do you steal what I seek, but you dare offer me less!”

“Please, senior,” Fu addressed the clerk again. “Out of your kindness, we have caused you trouble. Children.”

One by one, his family bowed towards the woman.

At this point the youth was near frothing, and his [Spirit Serpents] had taken to loom not a pace from Fu’s head. But he remained calm, only watching as the dutiful clerk sifted a portion of his leaves into a spare pouch.

It was then that the cultivator’s [Intent] drove down upon Fu, delivered amidst a sneer. “Kowtow twenty times and I might be merciful, junior.”

Fu’s [Dantian] was hit by a weight of-

Of-

Inconsequential droplets. A force was there. Not paltry, or insignificant. But it lacked…

Definition.

He could feel the cultivator’s wrath pour out in shapeless form, as though he were a shallow well.

So, he made his own [Intent] known. Masking his surprise as the density of his own showed as a tranquil lake. No fathomless depth, or trench. But a quiet thing, strengthened against [Spirit Beasts], and Blight… and such unspeakable pain that this coddled youth could never dream to touch.

“You are most understanding, brother,” Fu said, meeting his eye. That trembling, widened, disbelieving set. “I hope you enjoy the ginseng.”

In a slow motion he handed Feng the pouches, and gave the clerk a grateful bow.

Then left, with his children in wide, prideful smiles about him.