The fumes blanketed all behind Cheng Rao and whorled between rocky edges to leave no thought of escape.

Udvah tossed at Fu’s feet, his face scrunched at some unseen anguish. Painless, he hoped, for it was aligned with the throes one might have when nightmares enter their dreams.

Fu dipped his head in respect. “Senior,” he said. “This disciple greets you.”

Cordiality did not unnerve the man as hoped. “That black-hearted curs might count themselves among the venerable Cloudy Serpent Sect!” he near spat. “It is this daoist’s shame he did not glean your nature sooner. But this will be rectified, yes.”

How reduced Cheng Rao had become was as clear as limpid water.

Filth stained the hanfu he once took pride in. Scars littered where flesh showed, a limp had him lean heavy upon his gun, more cane than staff. Yet a madness laced words where soft-spoken cruelty had once lingered.

The extent of his crippling is vast. But a sunken ship still holds many nails.

Azure ink painted the blight, [Illusory Qi] that Fu knew well to fear.

That he had not pounced like the feral beast he seemed drew further questions. Thus Fu readied in subtle motion, preparing to withdraw his chain when the moment arose.

“Apologies, senior, but this disciple is too dense to understand your meaning. Are my duties so lacking?”

Cheng Rao scratched at fetid welts upon his neck. “Oh you taunt me further Gao Fu! Reveal to me how you possess the [Hundred Immunities Fruit]. How no [Dao] nor [Art] detected that treasure within. Know that a last testament is better than you deserve!”

Froth might well have pooled on the man’s lips.

Sensing rationality was gone, Fu cycled his Qi. Half of his [Core] remained, and enough [Soul Qi] floated within to lend small activations of his spectral form.

“[Hundred Immunities Fruit]? Senior-”

“Yongwu Long declared it as true,” ripped Cheng Rao’s [Intent], striking Fu with a pressure so great he was brought to knee. “Lie no longer!”

Long? Are… are we so entwined?

Earth cracked beneath him, mirroring the sensation in Fu’s bones.

Denial is no means of escape. He intends to end my path here.

Shuidi had thin mists billow beneath them, swarming the cavern’s floor.

[Dao of Withdrawal].

Strained, the fisherman vanished into mist. A boneless form still subject to Cheng Rao’s force of will. Nonetheless he passed, worming through tendrils to come against the green fugue that bordered his own.

The time for inspection ended with a sudden jolt.

A needling pain flared in his spine, ejecting him from his [Dao]-clad form to land some few strides from his foe.

“The actions of one who’s conscience bears guilt. A charade ended.”

{Mind Qi] and [Light Qi]. These are his composites. Light must bar the way, unless he has ensnared my mind unknowingly.

Hushi rejected the latter prospect.

Then a chance exists.

“This disciple holds duties to his Sect. Apologies, senior, but I cannot be waylaid,” rasped Fu, and drew a breath. “My master, B…” The name died upon his lips. “The Cl…” Again the same sensation.

His [Dao Oath] prevented such an exchange.

“Cheng Rao is outwith what words might be shared.”

The accusation brought a dip in [Intent], alleviating no small pressure. Upon the floor, Fu strained to see a palm upon Cheng Rao’s face. Some brace into which he loudly muttered.

Moon touched. Might his madness be appealed to?

Crippled or not, a once-peak [Core Formation] cultivator had ensnared him. What benefits that wrought were unknown. What strengths were diminished and what had gone unsevered.

Still the blighted clouds rolled, marking his illusory talents as sure. A near confirmation as no disciple outside this had rushed for inspection and his Cloud Gathering had not broken through to provide aid.

[Ink] glinted upon his forehead.

The Path of [Mind].

“Outwith, yes. A declaration of the suffering caused,” began Cheng Rao anew. “Ever diligent Cheng Rao. Invaluable Cheng Rao. Talented Cheng Rao. This daoist knew many monikers, enjoyed the affections of his betters - strove ever higher. The [Mystic Realms] travelled span myriad more than you hold drops of blood within your body. And yet- Cheng Rao is unmade. The fool Cheng Rao. The wasted Cheng Rao. Shameful. Lacking. Such was the [Karma] of crossing Yongwu Long’s path. But no unparalleled [Demon] are you.”

Conversation ceased at the next strike.

Iron fingers seized Fu’s throat, hoisting him aloft. Now level with the madness, cold breath washed against his cheek.

Sister.

The [Hundred Poisons Synthesis] erupted betwixt pincers, carrying a fountain of malignancy. His [Constitution] materials sprayed in full effect, enveloping Cheng Rao’s face in entirety.

A shrill squawk sounded.

[Soul Qi] suffused [Half Cloud Step], and Fu slipped through his captor’s flesh to immediately distance himself.

When next Cheng Rao revealed his face, it showed horror.

Some ooze of pastel teal had gnawed all within his eye sockets, streaking like thickened tears.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

Blade in-hand, Fu plunged down atop the pacing [Spirit Peacock]. Finding a mirage in its stead.

One hundred strides across, the attempt was repeated.

Eastward.

North and west.

Six attempts followed during which Cheng Rao steeled himself.

The propagating azure blotches then flared. A wash of mental pressure exerted itself in this same instant, and muttered words passed Fu’s ears before the world turned black.

Hushi. Shuidi.

Two impressions returned their wellbeing.

An illusion of darkness was cast. No gloom where one might glean a step ahead, but one akin to turgid pitch, so dense it felt liquid to his [Senses].

His [Resilience] can be breached by our poisons, should Qi remain to draw from. Yet we pay dearly for removing his eyes.

Cheng Rao held a [Two Pointed Star], as Fu did.

Hissing penetrated the air, casting cold upon his neck.

The second, his [Spirit Serpent]. Brother, sister, I will need your aid in this.

“This daoist will heave your body before his betters. The state matters not, no,” rasped a voice with no source.

Sound plays oddly.

Sweat crested his grip, though Fu tightened as he fell into the [Wind Phantom Strides]. He held no use for eyes, and closed them so his other senses might grow. Sight was gone and sounds were distorted, yet his [Hundred Immunities Fruit] warned of his residual poison.

Droplets embedded in Cheng Rao.

Suddenly he countered the crack of a staff, driving back three blows before the man retreated.

The effort had his bones creak.

Shuidi expelled unseen mist to waylay the [Spirit Serpent’s] next strike.

Two kicks.

Pain blossomed as fangs pierced Fu’s leg, and wetness trailed as his calf was torn upon release.

[Might] could not support so broken a body, having his speed suffer for it. Cheng Rao cracked fifteen strikes upon his body, layered across various points. Each blow landed as a hammer to have concentration break.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to NovelBin for the genuine story.

Small fear rose as Fu lost Cheng Rao’s position.

Through laboured breath he exerted his [Divine Sense], hoping a trace of his own [Constellation Seed] might remain.

Oh?

[Dao of Withdrawal].

Hidden mist embraced him as a fresh resonance returned.

A man that travels so many [Mystic Realms]. Is it not natural that he possesses so many [Constellation Seeds]?

Three points were highlighted in Fu’s [Senses]. Glaringly loud.

Fu drew a [Winter Rejuvenation Pill] into his hand, and mid-swallow, steeled further. That his poison had melted little more than Cheng Rao’s eyes was proof of a [Resilience] leaps and bounds above his own talents.

Thus he placed his trust in Clouded Serpents.

[Half Cloud Step] buried his knee into the mountain that was Cheng Rao, stalling him instantly. His hand blurred, unfurling to slap an item upon the man’s neck. [Spectral Qi] allowed him to sink through flesh, depositing another upon the next spot of naked flesh.

Cheng Rao caught the third attempt, entering a palm into Fu’s stomach.

Despite a swiftly replenishing [Core] his pain continued. Sight was not needed to feel the blood eject from his lungs.

Only his foe’s breathing sounded for a time. “This- this was my bane?” he rasped. “How this daoist’s memories dim.”

Hushi darted.

The [Spirit Serpent] ensnared all eight arms, having him plummet to the stone.

“All that was spoken is true. The Sect’s honour is sacred-” he continued. “Selfish desire has paved this path. Yes. How clear it becomes. How wise are our betters to show such foresight? Humbling, is it not, Gao Fu? That you become a parable to solidify my faith.”

Cultivators… they stake all on a single throw.

The [Dao of Wayward Breezes] carried Shuidi to Cheng Rao’s nape.

Qi flared through the talisman planted there.

[Half Clou-]

Fu’s legs gave beneath him.

Ban Bingbai’s harvesting talisman rocked Cheng Rao in equal fashion as an attempt was made to harvest the still-standing cultivator’s [Constellation Seeds].

Another [Winter Rejuvenation Pill] was willed forth, and Fu rammed his jaws around it. A tactless crunch released the rampant energy within.

No reference existed for such pain.

[Half Cloud Step].

Violent heat set his bones in sudden snaps, as did his flesh sear in mending waves. Hollow and brittle despite all that empowered him.

He ravelled his chain around Cheng Rao’s neck and clamped tight, flooding Shuidi with all the Qi he could muster.

The talismans drew an anguished scream, and [Divine Sense] told of a single item striking the floor beneath them.

Slick.

Vision returned to show a visceral gouge in his foe’s gut.

Further.

So drastic was the resistance still that Fu’s [Core] dried as the second talisman exploded in bloody light. Hushi had rejoined in the chaos, exploiting the [Spirit Serpent’s] moment of weakness to lend what support he might.

The second [Constellation Seed] erupted from Cheng Rao’s throat.

This connection of theirs severed, yet the beastly cultivator had not grown limp. Centuries bolstered the grip that now grappled Fu’s chain, a weapon that slackened in passing heartbeats.

Had Fu another talisman readied-

Shuidi collapsed, plummeting from nape to stone.

“For two [Demons] to escape this daoist’s gaze,” Cheng Rao whispered.

And then laughter wracked his chest, ascending in an order of magnitude until naught could be heard but this madness.

[Demons].

The talentless Gao Fu plunged fingertips into the man’s dissolved sockets.

Already had the [Old One’s Whisker] proved more. Had Ban Bingbai not said the same of his others?

Without profundity, Fu merely toldhis [Hollow Ivory Splinter] to act.

A thread of the talisman’s energy yet lingered, blood-red and thick. He followed this, tethering his power to the [Constellation Seed] that [Divine Sense] revealed beneath his foe’s brow.

[Pull]- so fatefully bloated -ensnared all.

Swift rage overcame Fu.

Lust. Envy.

An intensity of heat that purged all thoughts and sense.

All he knew was the crimson radiance within his palm, and the sudden wetness that heralded the [Constellation Seed’s] explosion through Cheng Rao’s skull.

Blackness.

🀦

A pagoda’s interior entered eyes that Fu strained to open.

Yet his hand snapped swiftly, entering a neck into his grip. “You-”

“Senior,” hummed Udvah’s voice.

Fu unblurred his eyes, seeing initiate robes dressed the body that he so fervently choked. “Brother,” he tried, rasping dry and ragged words.

Upon release the youth above him scrambled back, giving rise to a murmur of further voices. Discontented and fearful.

This… I am within Udvah’s [Dao of Sanctuary]. What occurred?

He flushed a resonance through his [Core], feeling Hushi upon his gut and Shuidi nestled within the folds of his tattered fabrics. No longer hanfu, so threadbare and soiled they were.

Hushi, Shuidi, are you well?

Weak impressions returned.

A nod had blood stream from his nose. His [Ink] awaited him. Pain assailed him. He knew not where they were. Where Cheng Rao was. Zhu. Linhua. What state the [Array] remained in. Why rage thrummed with each beat of his heart.

Myriad questions.

Clarity returned in several breaths, aided by the approach of a second youth. “Senior,” she said, bowing deep. “If this one might continue with your mending?”

“Apologies, junior,” he returned, mistakenly rising to sit. Fresh blood spurted from a hundred wounds, saturating the bandages he now noticed upon him. It had him suck in a breath to stay as this, and another to ignore such damage. “Might you expand on this?”

“This one is Sixty First Aarushi. Doctor potentate of the venerable Clouded Courts. If senior is willing, these wounds might be tended.”

He measured the Vajra. Her sky-blue hair, the stain of [Mind] upon her lower jaw and the [Spirit Lizard] beneath her robes.

“Gratitude, junior. Any aid is welcome.”

[Life Qi] soon poured from her hands in trifling amounts. Scarce, for her [Foundation Realm] ability was no divine thing.

He stood partway, reopening wounds. “Apologies. If you might mend me again while I stand,” he asked.

Aarushi bowed deeply and continued.

In the intervening time Fu counted eighteen cultivators about him. Youthful, save for a clutch of three, but these were not in alignment with any division and strewn between initiate ghosts and more scholarly sorts.

Diverse.

Lacking the wherewithal to move beyond his wounds, Fu perused their cultivation. That he could inferred no [Clouded Ghost Arts] was held between them.

[Foundation Realm], save for that woman there. The one of Ban Bingbai’s interest.

His [Divine Sense] spoke of an absorbed [Constellation Seed]. Strange then, was the hunger that boiled his blood.

Red frayed Fu’s vision and he found himself three paces forward.

“Senior, is something amiss?” spoke Aarushi.

Fu’s eyes remained on the distant woman, and her eyes returned the gaze. Hot, and questioning.

“Nothing more than can be seen,” he said.

Hushi maintained a loose grip upon him, wearily mounting his shoulder to lend a comforting balm to ease Fu’s urges.

[Demonic] as he knew them to be.

“Brother Udvah,” he announced, and the [Dao’s] fabric unspooled to deliver him outside where a disparate scene awaited.

Lush mountaintops suspended in air that bore some semblance of the Divine Clouded Mountain. All was verdant, and a deep sunset rouge had the petals of each plant across these lands seem ablaze.

“Amituofo, it is pleasing that you walk,” greeted Udvah.

The Vajra’s warm skin shone with sickly complexion, magnified by the sheen of sweat upon all features. Some immensity of strain upon him.

Fu aided Hushi’s descent, who met Mangalam with a brief exchange.

Then the skies above drew all attention. A mirage painted in clouded parts that both men grimaced to see.

[Spring] had been plundered from the Four Shaded Spear. The titanic components of both shaft and spear clear for all to see in this strange, Heavenly transmission. It had arrived in a ruined bed, cushioned by crumbled, palatial structures beneath.

Udvah struggled a smile. “Gao Fu’s interference,” he said.

Indeed this landmark had not arrived as [Sixth Under Heaven] would have desired. Lengthways and horizontal where it had stood tall before.

The devastation to this wherever realm was clear.

“Kind, brother,” replied Fu. “But other forces conspired against it. My work only touched upon what Elders and our fellows had already wrought.”

The Old One had hinted as much.

Fu continued, but swept eyes across all horizons. To the makings of distant buildings, wooden, where the Spear’s landing site was stone, then on, to abyss spanning bridges and a [Paifang] three peaks over.

“This disciple would not dare infer intervention from the myriad forces assailing such an [Array]. Amituofo, to dishonour the infallible Cloud Gathering so…” said Udvah, plainly smirking through his evident anguish.

“Do not maintain your [Dao] for my benefit, brother.”

Sweat gathered upon the Vajra’s chin, and rivulets had long since moistened the ground below. “Amituofo. A kindness. But [Ink] calls,” he gestured.

It does.

Hushi gave small acknowledgement to this.

An [Art] is not so easily forged without manuals or [Nodes]. Not without great trauma and difficulty.

Fu breathed.

Death was close.

“A [True Lord Grade]. We walk in a land of hostile immortals,” said Fu.

“Amituofo. [Sixth Under Heaven’s] harvesting [Array] spirited many away during your trouble with that nameless corpse. The brooch however, it does not respond. Here, the Clouded Courts number but two cultivators.”

Small steps took Fu to their mountain’s edge. As if divinely placed, pebbles cascaded over to illustrate this [Mystic Realm’s] depth.

Lower.

Lower yet.

The pebbles swiftly dropped beyond his [Senses], but in his watch a steady count had risen. Not of seconds or paces, but the sum of each [Paifang] passed on islands below.

“The [Law of Origin] here differs. That so many entrances exist. Beyond them- I would be foolish here, and put faith that one might lead home,” said Fu.

Sapped of all strength, the [Dao of Sanctuary] unfurled. Eighteen disciples arrived in the space behind.

A chorus of knees took to the ground. Claws furled, wings folded, and serpents shuffled as the herald to a deep and expectant silence.

Both men of the Cloud Gathering then shared a look, and Udvah’s quirked brow spoke volumes.

It was not the Vajra that held seniority here, but the former fisherman whose sole thoughts lingered on the distance his feet would have to cross to carry him home.