Screams died on the Imperial’s lips.

Specks of [Spirituality] swept as ash from a pyre.

Corpses fell.

Silence extended.

Violently, did the gold then wash.

Within a misty tendril, Fu weathered the anathema to all ghosts, and skulked once more into the black as it surged like a returning tide.

The true spectres did not shrink from this light. Yet they might only be identified by what devastation trailed in their wake.

Fu impaled an Imperial’s eye socket before returning to the crags of familiar passages to await the [Array’s] next activation. His respect had only grown, commensurate with reverence were he able to hold love for any but his treasures.

Wicked, crimson threads heralded a decapitation. Pristine holes punctured guts to drip forth the contents. Myriad wounds blossomed on the hundreds with profound discrepancy in their position.

Those of the Cloud Gathering reaped from thin edges, where [Foundation Realm] sacrifices had the misfortune to tread- bullied forth by the seniority at this force’s back. It choked the rocky channels with the dead until corpse-strewn mounds cluttered the path forward.

Qi-rich lanterns were foisted into the prison’s air, thick in inscription and meaning. Paper things to suspend and flood this slaughter with light.

Here the dark shapes of uncountable [Spirit Bats] swarmed.

Blackness returned.

Chaos.

“Allow fear to foster,” whispered Meng Ai’s voice, prefacing a great quiet wherein the orchid horde did naught but solidify their footing.

Pushing a resonance through his brooch, Fu drew forth. Clad in shadow, the Cloud Gathering widened their approach in a swift navigation to the eastern front.

“Shoots of grass, you allow the enemies of [Spring] to shame us so?” rallied a taller blade, delineated behind scores of base fodder with those of suitable station.

A hand pressed on this cultivator’s shoulder. “Amituofo, brother, you allow this darkness into your heart. Grass cannot grow without the sun, these shoots should not be judged harshly.”

This Vajra, one of warlike bearing- latticed in scars so profound they shone across the intervening distance- parted his juniors. Hanfus flared as they came to knee, ill-daring, or unworthy of meeting the gaze of he nor his [Spirit Salamander].

Shoulder high and wreathed in vines.

Meng Ai or our seniors are challenged.

Again Fu studied the scene.

The pandemic of fear, the stall of feet, the escalation birthed that a single pause in death had wrought.

An evolution of tactics. This must become as natural as my breathing.

“Amituofo. Let us not play games, those of clouded serpents!” he called, flashing a war fan where previously his grip was bare. “This taller blade would not see needless blood spill.”

Gold flared to illuminate him, elongating his shadow.

Then passed the whisper at this Vajra’s ear, delivered by the ghost one pace aside it. Unheard, Fu could not guess the words.

But the emboldened cultivator trembled, war fan scything into the open air where his foil had stood not half a breath before.

That pride of Zhu’s mention touched upon Fu.

Blackness returned.

🀦

Meng Ai orchestrated his slaughter with perfection over what his foes would feel to be intolerably long breaths. These passed into an hour, or near, threshing the trespassers so that only dozens remained.

[Ink] burned upon Fu, and he knew in equal measure that Zhu would feel this gratifying pressure.

In shadow, he allowed the changes to find balance.

Wary.

Disbelieving that his cultivation might rise so drastically. Yet, was this not the true power of [Constellation Seeds]?

Such thoughts fled as Linhua’s own was unleashed across the blackened passages where they lurked. A voice escaped her lips, bearing no resemblance to her own. “Amituofo,” this male affectation cried. “Fellow shoots of grass, tread wary! The serpents rise to our rear!”

Familiarity bid three Imperials turn. Kinship, or association, proving their downfall.

Nestled tight, Fu saw his Cloud Gathering division devastate the [Spirit Beasts] in wicked, instant blows while backs were turned in this exploitation. Their cultivators fell crippled in pained gasps.

Left to anguish at Meng Ai’s direction.

[Silver Chorded Pear]. Her mastery has progressed in so short a time.

A [Foundation Realm] gift to fill her [Primordial Constellation Gate], affording her prodigious talent in voices. In replication, sealing, tracing, and all else that the nebulous applications of such treasures provided.

The gold returned in its shortened interval, now rising at a sum of twenty or so strides.

Fu’s ears brought the chime of singing metal throughout. Sung hence from the fray’s thickest clashes, where subtlety no longer reigned

Talents warred with taller blades, the true heights of which, unknown.

An absence in Meng Ai’s orders spoke of his presence among these giants. Jian met jian, and qiang to axe. As Fu edged forth their forms could scarce be seen, blurring in strikes so that the passage of their weapon again revealed more than naked eyes might.

Ten more rotations passed.

Ten parties of the [Foundation Realm] fell.

Those of the Cloud Gathering division drew ever closer to the prison’s edge, cleansing what few brave souls had dared to bypass the Clouded Court’s net. Yet here the root thrummed with a pressure not unlike [Intent].

Its [Array] waxing in gold.

Shuidi held the most sensitivity to such things. One of [Mind] unlike the martial sections of her tethered soul. Her uncertainty soared to be but one [Half Cloud Step] distant.

Fu felt her sentiment deeply.

Duty had not prevented an expansion of [Senses], and Zhu had shared no resonance to alert of the sun-facing Sect’s arrival. Thus he stole another glance at the prison’s far mouth.

No sign arrives.

Interwoven Qi channels raged through the [Array], cleansing black with its gold.

Caution in all things.

To be harvested was no safe route forward.

Udvah and Zhu reaped a taller blade’s [Spirit Carp].

Linhua’s attempt was parried, having her wash into darkness.

No thing stirred at the prison’s mouth.

Udvah struck.

Hushi.

Thrice was Zhu’s [Hollow Ivory Splinter] sated.

[Half Cloud Step].

Qi called his Cloud Gathering to give chase as Fu slid into the narrow gap between root and passage. [Profundity] littered the myriad characters on its underside, but so too did its illumination brighten sight down this trench. North to south, where [Spatial Qi] had it discoloured in some granular, orchid sheen.

Zhu arrived at his side, query in his plum eyes. His tong fa rose in two short breaths, holding promise that none would interfere.

Sister Shuidi, will you aid me?

The [Spirit Hermit] scuttled atop his index as Fu inspected the root. Nail and claw meeting the absurdity within.

Mental energy was the tithe taken upon touch. A deeper connection than previous glances afforded, either by merit of the Empire’s power or by marrying his hand to the flow. Sight was his previous method, but instinct drove had his [Senses] expand.

Images passed in his mind’s eye.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Circuits of Qi, in queer spectrums of colour. [Affinites], he mused, knowing no better. But Shuidi guided, sifted and arranged, all the while pressing her will against the [Old One’s Whisker]. She then drew.

The feedback of thrumming Qi aligned as if to pass through the filter of his [Constellation Seed], done at the touch of a claw.

Sister, you are impressive indeed.

A lack of truth told of [An Array in One Hand’s] ignorance to the Empire of Abundant Spring’s work with formations. Though as breaths passed the reserves of that immortal’s knowledge disambiguated all.

“Young Gao Fu,” arrived the Old One’s tenor. “You call in an hour of need.”

So natural to Fu’s soul was this voice that he did not start nor break his concentration, despite his wrongful thoughts that the old catfish had held no remnant within.

“Venerable master, I am pleased that you remain. We are troubled with an [Array] that only your vast knowledge might undo.”

The Old One hummed at this mental conversation. “Follow suit with our sister crab, you lack where she holds plenty. Hers is the torch that leads.”

Fu relaxed his breathing, and imparted all focus to Shuidi.

Thousands of [Array] formations flashed to drain his mental energy, thinning then to hundreds, and tens.

[Demonic Heart Stealing Array]. [Earth Pillaging Array]. [Array of Nine Distortions]. [Spatial Sacrament Array].

Inscriptions came thereafter.

Functions, what [Dao] lay within, benefits, downsides, Qi composition, flow, patterning, circuits, purity.

A thousand things Fu could not commit to memory.

But the final name went unspoken as he sagged to a knee, for only the intent was revealed after such intense scrutiny.

An intake of Qi to purify all that the day has wrought- [Blood Qi], [Death Qi], [Life Qi] and myriad others… the ambient Qi, yes. Refined beneath the [Spring Equinox] to become… [Winter]?

An Empire named for Abundant Spring would surely do no such thing.

“Deeper yet, Gao Fu.”

[Winter] is massed to inflict [Tyranny] on a thing. A thing to harvest.

“Fear not its resilience. Myriad serpents have it wane.”

Fu put no stock in conjecture, and even those without eyes might see the peril of a hostile [Array]. Thus he drew back, sweat-slick from mental expenditure, and met Zhu’s eye.

His plum-tinged brow rose in question.

With palm held in a scything motion, Fu expressed his plea. Some pang of hurt must have shown, for Zhu studied this sincerity.

And unspoken, set the end of his tong fa where Fu had marked to strike.

There in the darkened trenches coalesced an axe of such scale that [Sixth Under Heaven] might well have noted it. Its head bulged in plum radiance, splitting the stone to Zhu’s rear as he drew back for the blow.

The [Dao of Plum Axes] eviscerated all but a slender length of the colossal root, and the uncautious Gao Fu stole within its cut with the Old One’s whisper in his heart.

“Three finger’s depth,” came the order, then followed. “Vertical for one arm. A crescent gouge no wider than twice this blade.”

[Half Cloud Step] empowered Fu’s dance and Shuidi’s precise strokes, mere pinches akin to trimming thread.

Sages of the Old One’s ilk transcended such things.

Cries and clashes no longer sounded distant as their great foes took note, prompting an impatient, warning grunt from Zhu as the Cloud Gathering division vanished from sight.

Fu could only continue. Severing circuits of Qi as this tender root succumbed to his bladework.

That it suffers- this cannot be [Sixth Under Heaven’s] own.

“Gao Fu does not work alone,” the Old One whispered, expanding no further.

For twenty six unnerving breaths did Fu continue, until a sudden pulse ejected him from the [Array’s] proximity.

A violent force propelled him into the nearby stone, birthing cracks throughout both. Mastery had his cry muffled, even as the bones about his collar spewed forth a torrent of flaming pain to herald their breakage.

But the ghost rose, gathering both Bonds to their perches.

Three resonations sung from his brooch, and [Half Cloud Step] blurred his broken body into the welcoming darkness beyond.

Hushi passed a count of the fresh bodies. Each potential end he might have met had his comrades proved less diligent.

Fu bowed on return despite the pain it brought.

Twin occurrences split his focus as they regained their breath.

Twin lights.

Far across their haunt, the prison’s entrance birthed a great volume of footsteps. The sudden lilt to a swift march that placed several dozen cultivators into view.

Cloudy Serpent experts. [Spirit Serpents] near divine in bearing.

But the silvering coronas around them were supplanted by what [Profundity] gushed from the amended [Array]. Gold spread from Zhu’s almighty gash to travel through the root’s innards, crackling like rampant lightning.

Splits tore forth, sundering in multiple spots as this energy passed ever further through the system, and on, vanishing where the prison’s wall began.

Central, the tallest blade of grass broke free from with whom he clashed, prompting him to unleash a defensive treasure from his palm. Waves of [Force Qi] projected to have him stand alone, his face aghast at what transpired.

Fu winced at Meng Ai’s mental transmission. “Cornered beasts bear the strongest jaws.”

The warning signalled all ghosts to create distance, wary of some impending blow. Though gritted teeth bore them the sweetest fruit, for a call reverberated to all corners of the gloom.

“Fall back,” it sounded, shame evident. Disdain clear. “This long-grown blade demands it so!”

A madness of footsteps droved then.

The Clouded Court’s prison sounded a stampede as the Imperial remnants broke formation to stream back in retreat, nigh masking the second call that countered this first.

“Do you scurry so soon, cultivator?” laughed one at the sun-facing Sect’s fore. “See sisters, brothers, see these grass-fed fools flee before the Cloudy Serpent Sect!”

Meng Ai spared no such joviality. “Descend.”

🀦

The dust settled oddly, for it appeared as crimson mist.

Pride prolonged the suffering of these Imperial souls as sun-facing disciples aligned with the deftness of hidden blades, cutting painful strokes through the number where a trite surrender might have welcomed the next life on more peaceful terms.

This long-grown blade, having withstood Meng Ai’s assault, died a dog’s death. Butchered in honourable fashion by those lauding themselves as righteous and true.

Fu focused again on [Ink], sparing no time for the unparalleled forms traded. Merely holding his eyes open stole what effort he could scrape.

Reflections on growth were likewise stowed for rainier days.

Linhua’s soundless [Art] clad their division, granting a breath in the cramped confines of an upper ledge. Some roost where [Spirit Bats] once flitted.

“Squad Leader,” she said, meek from fatigue. “This Yin Linhua offers further admiration.”

Udvah leaned hard upon his gun. “Mastery. Amituofo, senior Gao Fu is as an onion, layered and deep.”

A weary chuckle rose in two corners.

“Gratitude, brother, sister-”

“Gao Fu orders you to silence,” interrupted Zhu, no bite to his bark. “It’s shameful to have his inadequacy at swatting flies known.”

“Flies?” Fu remarked.

“All here have lacking [Senses]. My eyes saw a troublesome fly by thata root, and nothing else. I’d challenge any who think themselves of keener sight than me.”

“Amituofo, the senior should call on Mangalam when next this rises. Flies are his [Dao], no?” smirked Udvah.

The [Spirit Toad] croaked.

Fu forced a nod, settling his gaze on a distant rockfall. “These flies hold a vengeance,” he warned. “A message I must share when next our shaded benefactor makes contact. Truthfully my thoughts are in disarray, else senior Meng Ai would know of this already.”

The tumultuous crackling within the [Array] had maintained its intensity since his interference, though he felt this to be no lasting thing.

Fate smiled after many breaths.

“The Cloud Gathering humble us. Gao Fu’s boldness is not unearned,” broke Meng Ai’s mental transmission, tinged with mirth. “Our sun-facing betters stand awed.”

“Such words are too kind, senior. But this disciple must share a concern. His own foolishness has traded nearby dragons for distant tigers. The danger yet remains,” replied Fu.

A spectre appeared in the division’s midst, clad in tattered, onyx hanfu. “Juniors,” he greeted, shocking all with a respectful bow. High, yet ultimately present. Across his face, further fabrics draped, blocking all but the tapestry of [Ink] upon his brow.

Subtle scales, interwoven.

“Speak free and swift, Gao Fu,” he asked.

Fu fell to a knee. “If this disciple’s words hold merit, he would offer them. The [Array] is segmented into eight harvesting parts, drawing and transforming the ambient Qi into that of [Winter] alignment. Preparation feeds [Sixth Under Heaven’s] central bamboo, massing for a strike against targets unknown.”

“Component inscriptions?”

“That of [Spatial Qi] and myriad [Dao] interwoven,” returned Fu, surely fumbling all that the Old One had intuited to him.

Meng Ai turned contemplative. “Below the alchemists and [Array] masters yet toil to uncover its intent. State both the certainty of this, and the effect you have wrought.”

“This mere disciple dares not speak in certainty,” said Fu, bowing lower. “But my personal belief is as sure as [Winter’s] next return.”

Another consideration flashed behind the senior’s eyes. “Effect?”

“A forced backlash to shatter the internal structure, disturbing the [Array’s] equilibrium so that the effect is warped and redistributed.”

Zhu looked upon Fu’s moustache with renewed eyes.

“Ban Bingbai picks well,” laughed Meng Ai, paying respect to each of the division. “Was the stealing of disciples no treasonable offence, I would inform my own master. The Descent of Four Clouds would treasure you all as initiates.”

“Apologies, senior. These words are intended for others,” said Fu. “We wish only to fulfil our own duties.”

The rockfall drew Meng Ai’s gaze. “These actions only solidify my views. Hah, a pity. Were my own juniors so diligent. Go then, little sister, little brothers. Your fellows will aid in what way we can.”

Gone.

Linhua expressed a near comical depth of confusion, flashing myriad emotions across her grime-soaked face in a single moment. It countered Udvah’s thin, vanishing smile and Zhu’s look of disinterest.

It was Tanshuai that emoted fully, sharing her pride a-perch atop Hushi’s arm.

[Half Cloud Step] was called to deliver Fu towards the rockfall, and he rejoiced that his broken collarbone barely jostled with such speed.

The shattered fragments would require more care in healing than the simple swallowing of a Pill, thus he endeavoured to save his mending until after this delivery was complete. So saying, he stalked, pressing a wide perimeter around the bemused alchemists some ways over to reach his destination.

Zhu’s brooch resonated from a step behind.

Caution bid Fu hold, and liquid darkness surged by him. This tide held no signature, buried beneath the [Clouded Ghost Arts] as he assumed, and laid claim to the wall of fallen boulders ahead.

One fell stroke disintegrated all.

Fu bowed to unseen comrades.

In place, a small cavern extended forth. Two hundred strides deep and populated with half as many cultivators. Initiates, [Spirit Beasts] and… others. Scholarly sorts, aides and potential alchemists if their bearing was to be judged at a glance.

Another two resonances burst from the rear, muddying Fu’s attempt at [Divine Sense].

Shuidi alleviated the burden, impressing who it was they sought. A youth, deep within the still-sitting crowd.

The wall is broken. Why do they not rush?

Alert shrugged free the fugue of a thousand clashes from him. His blade drew by instinct.

Three resonances had him round, [Half Cloud Step] blurring him into a defensive stance that found only darkness. Or-

Fu blinked, expanding his [Senses].

Udvah arrived at his feet, crumpling into a heap. Gasps, if ragged, told he yet lived. Nor did abundant blood soak his soles.

“This broken daoist walked many shores at the behest of his betters,” extended a cold voice.

Once an ally, the surrounding darkness morphed. Its allegiance changed.

For now rolled a turgid blight of green fumes, harkening to a time when Fu knew this voice intimately well.

Azure blots danced around an emerging figure, grandfatherly and crippled. His [Spirit Peacock] aside him, malice held in its stare.

“[Karma] weaves and [Karma] wills,” spat Cheng Rao. “And this pitiful daoist will serve as its instrument, purging all thieving filth from the Sect’s underbelly until none remains!”