Herein lies the personnel records for Master Ban Bingbai.

Known to be a nigh peerless genius in the instruction of special [Constitutions], Master Ban Bingbai served as an instructor for multiple locations across the Clouded Court Squads domains for a one hundred moons and three moons.

He commands great loyalty in his students, and fields an impressive stable of our Sect’s disciples throughout the Clear Sky Empire.

Of note is his work with several of the Nu family allegiant, and many of the higher-standing clans within the land.

Last known location is the [Twilight Lotus Expanse], granted as a request for his own closed door cultivation.

Master Ban Bingbai.

[Dao Name] Subject to change.

[Affinity] Subject to change.

[Cultivation Realm] Subject to change.

- “Twilight Lotus Expanse. Subject, Ban Bingbai.”

As the [Mystic Realm] was ever in twilight, Fu could not count the passage of time. No stars had changed position, and the darkness remained as it had before their entry.

Save that now, the Sect’s avenue’s were littered with disciples.

A sea of verdant green to mark the daily practice as complete. It was only by their continued diligence that few loitered, for otherwise their position above would have been long unmade.

The Clouded Court cultivators flashed across the rooftops in careful fashion, adhering only to blind spots where decoration blocked view of the tiles behind. But this was fraught with the peril of myriad eyes.

[Spirit Birds] taken roost, or pantherine Bonds that stalked these byways.

The prison is further now than when we entered, and Zhu may not-

The lotus comes from mud. Yet is it not regal?

Fu grimaced.

Hope remains that he is not claimed by this. Yet it is a true vexation.

Here they perched on the outer lip of an unknown building, held at bay by enthusiastic talk below. The cultivator in question was emphatic in his speech, with frantic arms to accentuate his points.

But it had drawn three others to his side, those who looked up from the lotus pools they tended to block with gaze where Fu might pass. Thus the pair waited, and remained tight against the walls as more [Spirit Birds] took roost about them.

Below heralded a herd of disciples, breaking for what he approximated to be a meal time.

A [Spirit Ape], jian-laden, flung itself across trellises that ran parallel to the main courtyard, his direction unknowable.

Some smaller squadrons of outer disciples patrolled the streets.

Its stem is hollow. Yet is it not unbending?

Fu felt an ache of distant calling, and his eyes scanned to the titanic lotus. The eclipsed petals there reaching far above his own spot by several stories. Change occurred within it, or the precursor to the role it played.

The abilities of this [Constellation Seed], unknown.

Niwai’s breath grew heavier, and placed distracted mutterings in his ear. “Smoke,” chief among these. Half in warning perhaps.

Though Fu was not plagued by the same vision, and merely blurred forward when the opportunity was right. This Sepulchral Saber disciple, if vengeance was her motive then could she not have slain them at any point?

This thought did not settle his nerves, nor did he afford himself any more relaxation for it. He only listed it as a distraction, and made his way forward as he had before.

With vigilance, they dropped into the prison’s network undetected.

Footsteps thundered in the close confines, and to advance was ill advised. The corridors here were barren of all but the cells, perilously straight and, by guess, roamed by a total of cultivators that far oustripped those he had met before.

It does not sully itself with vines or branches. Yet is it not whole?

An expansion of [Senses] stole them down the path, and drew a closer image of the solitary woman on patrol far ahead. Upon her shoulder was a [Spirit Rodent] of some descript, bearing no reminiscence that Fu might glean in regard to blades.

Two hundred paces.

One hundred paces.

She held at the very corner of this passage, some few strides from Zhu’s cell. Whether she would turn left and vanish down the opposing corridor, or-

The [Spirit Rodent] rounded in their direction, and a jian was drawn in threat below it.

[Half Cloud Step]

The meagre [Inner Qi] within his [Core] couldn’t tolerate further use. Three activations perhaps, as warned by the twang of pain in his temples. But he arrived nonetheless, and swept low. What [Prowess] he had accumulated during the trial was swiftly rebuffed by her blade, and their chime resounded through the expansive corridors.

Fu wove around her next strike, and heard the rumble of a shout escape her lips.

“Intr-”

The [Dao of Wayward Breezes] lengthened his chain in that moment, and ensnared her waist with a snap. He then plunged his blade into the [Array] before him, to the door that held such inscriptions.

It stands tall and true. Yet is it not unbroken by the winds?

A [Sealed Reprisal Array].

Accumulated force thrashed his chain upwards, crumbling the cultivator into the corridor’s low ceiling. Something deafening, and worrisome, but stilled as Niwai thrust forth to bisect her [Spirit Rodent].

Fu retrieved his weapon. “Undress her,” he said. “Her robes might be of use.”

Niwai complied.

The affair took only a few seconds, and he stowed the uniform in his ring before setting his attention on the [Array]. In several presses it was open, stuttering to a height that would allow the crippled disciple to pass underneath.

A kick barrelled her through, done with such [Might] that she simply toppled into the abyss on the far side.

We have a matter of heartbeats.

He flew without instruction to Niwai, and arrived at Zhu’s cell. Again, the [Old One’s Whisker] led, and Fu loosed only a grunt as the [Sealed Reprisal Array] rescinded to show the cultivator within.

“You’ve been loud,” he said, rising from the lotus position.

He is not claimed by the [Allegiant Mind-Spirit Array].

It spoke to Zhu’s credit that he burst beneath the door before it closed, and drew his tong fa expectantly. All that came then was an arching of brow, and Fu urged them to follow from whence they had come.

So loud then was the approach of feet that one might mistake these halls for the base of a great waterfall. Disorienting, and with such implied threat that Niwai’s [Clouded Ghost Arts] trembled.

The corridor’s mouth darkened with rushing forms, five at first, and then it grew past ten, doubled for the [Spirit Beasts].

“Subtlety is gone,” whispered Zhu, and they drew to a stop in the face of these foes.

The lotus comes from mud. Yet is it not regal?

“I’d rather slash my own throat than submit,” snapped Niwai. “But I believe that at least I can break through.”

Fu said nothing, and met a set of watchful eyes beyond the closest [Array]. A cultivator of ragged and stern gestalt. “This can be opened,” he said.

His fellow disciples readied their weapons.

“Hah. So I might fight on your side? I see no benefit,” the prisoner snorted.

“Better to fight here than rot there,” Fu said, and disrupted the man’s [Array] before moving to the next. The second held one claimed by words of lotuses, recited beneath his breath in endless mutters.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

But, he moved. A slink beneath the doorframe, and a monastic walk then followed. As if a daoist, called to prayer.

“Come,” said Fu, addressing his companions. “There is much to do.”

🀧

A lacking fortitude crept upon Fu amidst pandemonium. The [Old One’s Whisker] was overtaxed, and his coughs drew blood the more he set to use it.

Foolish, yet capture was no option.

Death, was no option.

So he burst to another cell, one of hundreds, and disabled the [Array] there.

The doorway flung half-ajar, and the space was drowned in surging, green waters. A young girl rose from it, slick with moisture aside a [Spirit Beast] he had no intention of observing. Something equally wet.

Its stem is hollow. Yet is it not unbending?

Maelstroms of Qi gushed as she turned to face the hallway, which was engulfed in turn by such elements that all but colour was gone.

Fu stumbled before the next cell. Feet heavy, and eyelids drawn to eclipse. His arms extended sluggishly, though they fought against the invitation of comfort that the ground might provide.

An arm drove around his waist, and he was bundled atop Zhu’s rigid shoulder. “No more,” he warned, and burst ahead with such force that the ground cracked beneath. “Your [Karma] will run dry before long. Don’t be a fool.”

Finding some prescience of mind to act, Fu put a hand to his spatial ring. His intent to summon one of the [Spirit Cores] that Hushi had reaped. But this was warned against, and the impression that came spoke of damaged [Channels] should he persist.

The [Winter] rejuvenation pills still lingered within him, after all, remnants with a similar function.

Instead, his Bond set to cultivating what he could.

Their first prison break, and the proximity to the corridor’s mouth had saved them thus far. If unintentionally. For the Lotus Blade disciples, with appropriate haste, had rushed to meet the titanic fray that had enveloped one segment of their prison.

They fed into the opening to support their fellows, with few advancing around the opposing side to approach their flank. This was a small grace, for the ghosts’ travels went unimpeded for a span of several minutes.

Fu parsed this through shuttered eyes, and violent jolts. The mantra of Ban Bingbai’s location flapping beneath his breath.

Three hundred paces… It matters not.

“Stand clear, junior,” cried a distant voice. Hostile, and some ways before them.

Niwai’s blades surfaced at his periphery, and a grunt that may well have said mid. Her words were sharp and breathy. Difficult for Fu to focus on.

“Fifteen paces north,” said Zhu, dumping Fu from his shoulder. “Three east. Hushi. The younger disciple holds what you need. Niwai, guard him with your life.”

“I’ll not stand idle-”

“You’ve no worth then,” snapped Zhu. “Guard.”

There came an impression of something, loosely enforced in Fu’s blackening vision. Something above the deafening roars of explosions and blades that ruled the bowels of this meteor.

Ephemeral plum blossoms. A haft and blade of impossible scale. Hushi’s presence, distancing in time with Zhu.

It does not sully itself with vines or branches. Yet is it not whole?

Above, Niwai let loose a gasp.

A sudden parcel of Qi electrified Fu’s body with painful delivery, and he felt it scrub against his [Channels]. Different from the mental fatigue, or the existing injuries across it. Fresh enough to jolt him to stand.

Enough to break into a staggered sprint and rejoin his companions ahead. They did not stop to exchange words, and said nothing of the bisected, splattered disciples through which their feet travelled. Nor the hunk of [Poison Affinity] flesh in one of Hushi’s arms.

“And even the old man?” muttered Niwai. “How do you possess such depths?”

Fu ignored her.

Zhu’s face bore wrath.

But they flew in tandem, their eyes on a junction ahead.

The twinned cultivators there were tentative. Attention ahead, jian held defensively, and intermittent shudders for each resounding crack. Fu’s blade ruptured through the first’s [Spirit Wolf], emerging on the other side of its temple. Zhu arrived at the second, and shattered her partner’s skull to leave the [Spirit Bird] to dissipate.

Gait unbroken the ghosts continued.

Two hundred and thirteen paces east, and one crippled cultivator.

One floor lower, and the two upon the stairs there.

To the smoke-clad courtyard so deep within the rock. It was framed by four pillars, and about these ringed a single lotus pool of utmost clarity. A vast, hewn place, that served as an abrupt if tranquil end to the prison’s boundary.

Fu coughed more blood as the [Old One’s Whisker] revealed the inscriptions that riddled this place. The subtle workings of the [Earthly Retribution Seal Array] that promised swift death to those that could not suppress it.

It stands tall and true. Yet is it not unbroken by the winds?

Smoke cloyed across the waters, embracing the pillars, the lotus and all. He knew somewhere within lay his assassin.

“We’re committed to death either way,” said Zhu. “When we meet in our next life, I’ll make sure to remind you of your debt.”

Shaking, Fu wiped a crimson trail upon his sleeve. “Debt, friend?”

“You’ve led me to death. The spirit wine is on you.”

Hushi unspooled, and in short order the pair set to work on the [Array]. Peculiar patterns swept through it. Crossing sections of Qi in circuit, pulsing beneath mundane detection to complete great loops of the construct.

Tiles, held between the pillars.

Fu danced here as fast as he was able, intuiting where next to place his feet, where to touch upon the marble, where to sweep, where to… cut. In fourteen steps he discovered this sequence bore resemblance to the [Twilight Lotus Steps], though his was a lacking rendition. His own blade flew slow, powered by hollow muscles.

Yet as ever, Hushi gave his support. Eight limbs becoming a third for Fu, and so on their enactment went. From fourteen came thirty, and sixty, doubling in number and complexity until he became certain he would not see the end of this routine.

The Qi below churned in expectation.

The smoke thickened.

Noise gathered at the room’s entrance.

The lotus comes from mud. Yet is it not regal?

There.

A stomp where energies mustered brought the entire [Array] to a standstill. Such profound Qi now reduced to the state of a clogged pipe.

Without the chance to react, Hushi dragged him to the surrounding pool. Where the reflection had faded to show a true expanse of twilight. Stars beyond, and iridescent dust to net them, whirling to be absorbed by a figure beneath the waters.

Though this man was distant, inverted at the rear of a grand chamber and not upon the ceiling above Fu’s head.

Then came another cough, and Hushi supported the action. Having Fu plunge into the space below.

Zhu’s hand drew him up in short order, showing that he and Niwai had followed him into the expanse beyond waters. Yet an opposing problem to darkening vision rose, for now the air itself was a force so bright that not even the Heavens might have ignored it.

Cosmos swirled about him, and a hundred-thousand stars radiated there. What he had glimpsed as a cavern was then shown to be the blackness of night itself, for every firmament danced above with no ceiling nor end.

Only the floor remained, and at its center - at the base of a light-consuming vortex, sat an aged man in the lotus position. His perch, the awesome shell of a noble [Spirit Tortoise]. A beast of fable, for it seemed an island in this sea of stars.

“Oh?” cracked Ban Bingbai, and of all things, yawned.

The three Clouded Court disciples fell into immediate reverence, and went as low as any might be able.

“A mark of favor? An official decree. But if I’m to trust the noise outside, [Of Perennial Shade] sends rowdy juniors in place of talent.”

“These juniors are indeed lacking, Master Ban!” called Fu. “We submit ourselves to you, and come only to offer what services we can. Our Sect has need of you once more!”

In no hasty manner, Master Bingbai slid from his [Spirit Tortoise] to stand upon the floor. The coalescing energies then ceased, and the [Mystic Realm] showed its displeasure.

This sanctum below the waters felt but a taste of it. Of the immolation that transpired outside. For heat burst through the space of their entry to disintegrate much of the stone around it. Bleached white where it still remained.

Second to this was the ambient Qi, which had risen to levels of suffocation.

Zhu, of [Light Affinity], was caught in a laugh. “I’d readily abandon my current path to spend a single moon beneath his tutelage.”

“I don’t take disciples,” yawned Master Bingbai, some several hundred strides distant. “It’s noted though. There’s a few musty techniques I could pass on, plum boy.”

At that, Zhu’s laugh faltered.

“How’s that lustful father of yours? Estranged, I’d say if you’ve taken our oath. Tiresome, no? To be under constant threat by your siblings?”

“Master Bingbai,” said Fu, seeing his friend’s displeasure. “Might I ask on your instructions?”

As the old man closed in, his gestalt became clear. A tall and muscled frame, with a knee length beard of cobalt blue to match his [Spirit Tortoise]. Enough wrinkles stood among the pair to have a thousand-year old oak look juvenile.

“Instructions? We’ve to leave this place, no? Is the simplest path not a straight line?” he mused, his words slow and mirthful.

Many breaths passed before he was in their midst, and this venerable master cracked his spine before simply vanishing.

“Guang,” echoed his call, distorted through the waters. This summoned the [Spirit Tortoise], who de-mystified, shrinking to the size of a common swine. Her step slow enough to be near imperceptible.

The three disciples followed thereafter, and fled into the safety of shade upon emerging. Each motion was harassed by a toll of [Celestial Qi] that blew the air from their lungs, and had their bones creak under pressure.

But they stalked, and-

Master Bingbai had turned, his look of wrinkled incredulity. “If I’m not mistaken the prison stands emptied, and the ambient Qi has placed the Lotus Blade Sect’s attentions elsewhere. What use is this attempt at stealth?”

“These juniors would not implicate the Sect in matters surrounding your escape,” voiced Fu.

The man creaked out a laugh. “Is my escape not implication enough? However, I like this diligence. Very well.” He fastened his gaze over the bleached-white surface of the once-[Array]. To tiles and pillars scorched by rampant Qi. “Ah. That’ll be sufficient.”

Smoke converged at Niwai’s back, and that of Zhu’s. Two silhouettes emerged before a tide blew out to mask the entire room.

“Your Master speaks true, Gao Fu. What use is it?” laughed the Sepulchral Saber disciple. “I will have the Lotus Blade Sect know of your deeds. They will unmake their peace for this, with such fitting proof.”

Fu cursed, and dared cast his chain for fear of striking his fellows. “Master Bingbai,” he called. “Forgiveness, but these disciples bring trouble to your door.”

A ball of cobalt blue light cast aside the smoke, so small it could be named a speck. But its effect cleared a great sphere around the disciples, and the three juniors pounced into close proximity.

“One corpse is enough. One with favour,” whispered his foe. It crept from each inch of smoke to chill Fu’s already ailing spine. “Yet your inability has already doomed you. What cultivator of our breed is noticed?”

Words to inspire rage. Let us hope Niwai does not rise to it.

Bulges peered from the smoke to catch Fu’s eye, feints to have him strike or place his guard where best to be countered.

“My Sect is gone, culled for our failure. My vengeance is all that might restore its honour. The Sepulchral Saber Sect will be rebuilt, and the death of your own shall fuel its growth!” she whispered, growing ever more manic.

The words grew tighter knit in repetition.

“Open your eyes, Gao Fu. Steel yourself, Zhu. I will have my vengeance.”

Fu drew his guard up.

“I will have my vengeance,” she cried.

The jian in Niwai’s hands quivered.

“I will have my vengeance!”

Master Bingbai cracked his neck, and drew the assassin from the smoke. A slow swish followed, and as he brought her about the created breeze swept aside any trace of her [Art].

“A fortunate scapegoat,” he said. “Late [Core Formation]. Suitably believable for the trouble caused in this middling [Mystic Realm]. No?”