The woman’s [Dao Principle] had not pierced his [Resilience], and left only small track marks where the links had choked his skin. Still, was his own cultivation not a force of movement, his fate may well have turned.

Fu palmed the spatial ring within his grip, curious that he could not store it within his own.

A lucrative opportunity. Zhu may know how to open the contents, or- Zhu. There are no others I could ask.

With the doors to his fortress sealed, he scaled the wall. One part of his strategy was implemented, and this return spurred Hushi forth to complete his own. They shared a single, fleeting look as the octopus jetted across their courtyard.

A blur in the dark that held no effect on the mere five spectres below.

The following hours were unkind to Fu’s imagination, and had him long for cultivation in which to while away the time. However Hushi’s absence, and the marauding parties that roamed nearby prevented this.

Instead he practised his motions, devolving into a practice of his [Stifling Stream Revolutions]. A feature of his pretence, he supposed, that Fu Gao would so callously abandon his watch. The eyes upon him, for he sensed many…

His [Ink] responded.

Oh.

Guesswork was a fool’s game, but this trial had pit him against many of the [Foundation Realm] already. Chiefly those on the path of [Mind], or [Spirit], with the small contingent of [Body] cultivators within the Zephyrous Cicada Sect.

He dared not wonder if finally, given such success, his growth now fell in line with those at his own realm.

[Peak Foundation], on the cusp of [Core Formation].

Fu felt at the maringal increase to his [Control], but resolved to address the unfolding scene below.

At the three armies that stormed en-masse to converge on his meagre fortress.

Yi Nuo led her own, and furor had them in a sprint. So too did the one-armed Vajra move, at a distance of tenuous civility by her flank. The third was greatest, and most distant. Seven banners aflutter as the host below marched towards the confrontation.

Uniform, save for their cultivator. An aged woman that seemed oppressed by misdirection, spurring the [Spirit Horse] she rode in fanciful angles. Well harried by the octopus in the blossoms, lashing at its hooves.

He has done well these past hours.

The spectres in Yi Nuo’s retinue now numbered twenty, telling in how many were absent, no doubt aiding in the defence of her fortress. It paled against the third’s thirty five, but stood at the mid-point beside the Vajra’s ten.

To see this count, Fu spread a villainous grin. “Yi Nuo,” he called. “Were we not to meet at the grove? Such eagerness to join my ranks does not speak well of your skill. It is almost… shameful.”

A blade-tipped fan spread across her face, though his angle revealed the crinkle of her brow. That which she so poorly masked. “You think yourself clever, Fu Gao! But you are no more cunning than a mewling babe!”

“And newcomers,” he welcomed, nodding to the Vajra.

“This One Hundred and Eighth-rate Daoist has spoken with Mistress Yi Nuo, and your treachery has come to light! The water recedes! We have struck an accord to see this [Trial] rid of you,” she announced.

The spectres were silent, and had their concerted stomp lose much intimidation. But a command was called, and the Vajra put her troops in line with Yi Nuo’s.

“Remuneration is owed for the shame you have brought on her illustrious clan, and we of the Fenzhou will aid in this,” called Yi Nuo. “To believe I, Fenzhou Yi Nuo would fall to such blatant trickery. Fu Gao is truly a frog in a well!”

The villain forced a chuckle. He had but to goad them in, and descended before his gate. Life had him learn fear

by osmosis, and menace was a lesson well taught beneath the boot of Azure Shoal Sect disciples.

“Send the old man first,” he sighed, feigning disinterest. “Let us see if his promises last when he has not the arms to deliver them.”

The One Hundred and Eighth Vajra’s missing hand became an item of great interest for all gathered. Drawn to by such a threat.

If momentarily.

However, the called out silver-haired attendant took up a bow. “Allow me to rid this pest from your sight, Mistress. My anger at his statements can no longer be contained.”

Behind her fan, Yi Nuo nodded assent. “I grant you this, Sun.”

But here the spectres moved, and formed a great noose from Fu’s wall to ring them. An arena that levied podao to his flanks.

Sun stepped within, drawing free a whip of auburn horsehair. The [Dao of Reach] was evident then, for Fu lunged back from a snap.

Swift.

A second strike lashed by Fu’s ear, and split a shallow groove in the lobe. So he wound closer to sever the man’s range, where soon a cacophony broke loose.

Snap after snap.

Fu thought the whip a prime choice for their confines, for a single overstep would deliver him into a spectral podao. A blow came overhead, a feint that extended to the area of his dodge by way of winding tendrils.

Each hair elongated with independence, and soon one became three. His wrists suffered for this. His ankles and scalp. Extremities that he was certain the man targeted over anything vital.

The clash pit [Might] against [Might], and Fu’s tactic shifted from deliberate attrition to muted concern.

Defeat would come whether this man fell or not.

A tendril raced behind with skewering intent, prompting Fu to draw from the [Wind Phantom Strides]. He somersaulted over the pointed hairs, and spun, cracking a foot down to trap them against the ground.

Yet the others came in aid, ensnaring Fu’s waist as a silken sash might. With his foe’s arms clamped within the wrap, Sun advanced. A single bound brought him across the distance, delivering a fist-

Arms played little role in the [Wind Phantom Strides].

Fu mirrored the advance, leaping in place of Sun’s steps. Such surprise broke through the older man’s guard, allowing Fu to violently clamp around his whip-laden hand. With a burst from [Half Cloud Step], and between a vice of knees, bone snapped.

Both men tumbled. Though Fu’s rolled him beneath a lowered podao, which he was quick to rectify as he pried his bindings loose.

Hushi. The time nears.

Ahead, Sun roared at his perpendicular hand. Anguish, plain in this volume. More so as Fu pulled the flaccid hairs taught, and dragged the weapon from his grip.

“Bastard! Have you no shame?” he cried, punctuated by whoops from his ailing [Spirit Ape] beyond the arena. Sun’s attention split to his Mistress, wary of her disappointment. “Shall I have to beat propriety into you?”

The whip vanished into Fu’s ring, and once more he pondered this villainous persona. Distraction was a keen tool in an assassin’s playbook, and integral for his current course. But cruelty may incite the cultivators beyond to swiftly deliver his ruin.

Nor could Fu spy any treasure upon Sun’s body.

Discontent sounded from Yi Nuo, embodying his fears. “Justice must be wrought,” she called. “Will you join me, honoured One Hundred and Eighth?”

A flash of tandem sleeves commanded the spectres’ charge.

This tale has been pilfered from NovelBin. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

[Half Cloud Step].

Fu scaled the wall in a rapid bound, and, now vying for seconds, spoke. “The Feizhou clan claim that I cannot see? They stare at the tree to forget the forest beyond.”

Many podao hacked at the doors to his fortress, expressly silent save for the Vajra’s derisive snort. Corruption, of a sort, soon consumed the entrance. For a stroke would come, and spectral light would foster there.

With a force of thirty blades, the moment was almost upon them.

Hushi made his presence known, and jetted to his usual perch from the fortresses rearmost blossoms.

The fortress’ door crumbled into spectral light, and so obscured had these spectres made the view, that Yi Nuo continued the charge. They bunched into closer confines, and oozed into his courtyard as if a liquid worm. The head contained within.

Through silence, a stampede of singular origin then beat. Thunderous hooves heralded the third party’s arrival. Hushi’s tormented. An apt title for one so besotted with obvious rage.

“You sought my attention, and now you will suffer it!”

[Water Qi] multiplied this woman’s form. A cultivator of preternaturally similar cladding to the spectres, for a lamellar cuirass and greaves clacked with each jolt from the [Spirit Horse] beneath.

That which Fu spied three of.

Constructs of compressed tides and wake that emerged at her sides, multiplying the rampage of her arrival. Her cavalry surged upon the bodies of Yi Nuo’s aides, who had since chased their spectres into the fortress’ mouth.

And this trapped them as her own contingent seized advantage, following the advance into the bottleneck between walls.

Fu watched as his five, lonesome soldiers were consumed by the chaos. Squashed beneath podao, spears, outrage and further cries between cultivators.

The horsewoman blew atop his wall in a torrent, and spared no time in slashing her sabre forward. That she refrained from words of challenge made her intent clear, as did the lethality with which she swung.

Now drawn, Fu’s blade met it. Chiming.

“Gratitude,” he grunted, feeling her [Might] eclipse his own as she ignored this most effortless taunt. He disengaged, and sprung back to the fortress’ furthest edge.

His heel upon air.

All heels upon air.

For the fortress dissolved, and crumbled. A cascade of spectral light that pillaged the remaining lucidity from these tacticians, and had their cries reach the skies once more.

Some ways to the east, a fortress bulged in no quiet process. It expanded against its foundation of rocks, carving way for a swelling of walls, watchtowers and entrance. This sound marked the horsewoman’s first note of distraction, and she grinned in her oncoming charge through spectral debris.

However, the villain leapt away. A [Half Cloud Step] called to keep him abreast of the Qi-borne waves that surged in his direction, the [Spirit Ape], serpent, cultivators and [Arts] that sought his end.

His laugh upon the wind, Fu Gao fled for his fortress. To where soulless spectres had wormed through the blossoms on elbow and belly, dragging his banner unseen. Striking east, when all others were at his west.

Or so he recalled the quote.

🀦

The One Hundred and Eight’s forces had vanished due to Fu’s efforts, and in such disarray, the assault was defeated. Yi Nuo and her retinue had fled, claiming two of the horsewoman’s banners in the chaos, who in turn, was held at bay by the four cultivators arrayed against her.

Fate, or providence, then smiled at the villain once more.

All that comprised [A Strategist’s Folly] underwent a great shift, as before.

Fu’s fortress was wrenched across the land, that and the mountain that held it, delivering a fresh battlefield.

On his western side, his western front, as he supposed was proper, the Feizhou’s fortress stood close. The [Array] that held this [Mystic Realm] had translocated the hill across the intervening distance, and the same grove of which they had mentioned was but shrubs at the base of his walls.

“It shrinks from the center,” he mused to Hushi, who sat above the walls cultivating many superficial wounds.

His Bond remained quiet.

Sun’s whip was called to land in Fu’s hand, and with seconds to breathe, he became ponderous.

Mid [Winter] was soon to arrive, and thoughts of his debt ever spiralled. Some punishment would rise if he were to return late to the Clouded Court. Kindness… his masters were as the Heavens, dispassionate and unfeeling.

Would his punishment be simple death? An increase to debt? To approach with logic, was he not an investment?

No.

Fu cut such thoughts short, for he was but a meaningless grain of sand.

“Hushi. We must conclude this swiftly, let us not forget the true treasure,” he said, to a return of silence. “Utter victory is unnecessary, only that we make it to the end… only that we do not fall to the [False Life Dust Array]. If it allows limbs to be severed, then I would not willingly see what occurs on the other side.”

His position was secure for now, and across the hillside - south, into the sweeping headlands of a vast, peculiar coast, only smaller fortresses stood tall. None had improved to his degree, though this said nothing for those beyond his vision.

Before any strategies could form, he moved to deal with the horsewoman.

The [Dao of Wayward Breeze]-

Betrayed him.

What his [Senses] told of as a breathy wind met in strange currents, artificial, and disjointed in such fashion that he could not fully pass along the ribbon. Less than gracefully, Fu unspooled from his [Dao] in the midst of the central hillside.

Although his balance held, the destination was less sure.

Cultivators clashed along the slopes above his landing, fresh parties with a possession of moderate spectres each. He cursed the nature of waywardness beneath his breath, and grimaced. The activation had drained much to cross such a distance.

“An assassin is in your midst, fellow cultivators!”

The cry sounded from none other than Yi Nuo, who punctuated the claim with a charge of her spectral remnants.

All but seven remained, in contrast to the cumulative thirty to his rear. Who, to Fu’s relief, had deaf ears for this plea to land on.

Instead the cultivators at their fore continued their fray. A pair of scholarly sort, fan laden, which brought unbidden queries regarding a tactician's standard attire into question. If only through an assassin’s obligation to observe.

“Noble cultivators,” called the most distant, well behind his row of spectres. “Strike this devil down and I will aid against the villain!”

Which surfaced an opposing cry from the scholar’s mirror. “Hohohoho,” she cried. “The righteous would never fall prey to your tricks!”

Yi Nuo’s [Spirit Beast] revealed itself as a tiger of ochre hue, loping across the ridge to sever Fu’s access should he wish to flee. A swift thing, made swifter yet as the ground underfoot was suffused with [Earth Qi].

The change rippled from each paw, and Fu felt his own [Air Qi] suppress at its mere proximity as a mire emerged.

Knowing well the dangers of quicksand, Fu put himself airborne. A spring, and a conjuration from [Half Cloud Step] that had him soar closer to the warring factions behind. He touched down, fluidly drawing his chain.

A bowstring twanged. An innocuous enough sound for a battlefield. Yet it flew from Yi Nuo’s yet-to-speak attendant to be followed by an satisfied grunt. For its mark was hit, clean through Fu’s open palm.

The arrowhead, laced with [Poison Qi].

Fu snapped the shaft against his leg to painful effect, and masked the injury within his sleeve. Hesitation cost valuable paces in which the [Spirit Tiger’s] domain spread. Again, he leapt, combatting fatigue from his overuse of the [Dao] and this freshest wound.

“Hohoho,” tittered the female strategist, but three strides away. “Are you truly as they claim? That hat carries strange reminiscence.”

Another front, I should think. To strike up conversation so casually.

The woman stayed her fan, but spoke as one that held a great secret - for which she could not hide her smile. “One with such a vocation would not readily reveal themselves, oh ho. Despite the employability, and opportunity presented here.”

Suffocating filth sprayed over Fu’s robes at the tip of the [Spirit Tiger’s] paw. This he countered, and swept two kicks into the creature’s ear.

[Resilience] was far separate from the path of [Mind], shown here as it crashed sidelong into its own creation. Immersed in a filth of [Earth Qi], its roar blew muddied spittle from a formidable set of jaws.

Before it pounced.

With a lungful of air, Fu blurred beneath the creature. His knee stole the brunt of a slide as he disembowelled it with its own momentum. The blade spilled much in his wake, having his [Dantian] cry as his pores drew such voluminous and hostile suppression of his element.

“Armed with cruelty, I see. Few would openly cripple the cultivation of the Feizhou clan’s young mistress.”

The commentary went unappreciated, and Fu Gao stood to flick the crimson from his blade. “[An Array in One Hand] shields all under his [False Dust Life Array]. If the Feizhou clan take offence, then they have a place to put these concerns.”

Yi Nuo’s procession broke around her toppled body. Her face entrenched, and scarcely bubbling in the conjured mire.

Profound grooves carved through Sun’s grime, having his cheeks appear scratched and raw. An effect held by her bow-wielding second. He was the one to cradle her while the older man drew a meagre blade from her robes.

“On my ancestors, I will scour your name from the Earth, Fu Gao! Nine generations are not good enough for you, no,” he broke. “No, no. The righteous Feizhou will cleanse your pitiful lineage until not a memory remains. [Karma] binds us, and by my [Dao], I swear this as true.”

His own [Dao Oath] had the villain smirk, for if his allegiance were known no such threat would be made. And the Sect… could he not show gratitude for the cowl they granted?

“Oh,” he laughed. “Then the Sepulchral Saber Sect welcomes your visit. Venerable cultivator.”

What came next did so as his muscles flexed, and his arm readied to strike. A skewering of spears that unmade Sun and his companions, thrust from the muddied earth below.

Fu arched a brow to see thirty spectres of opposing allegiance rise to dispatch remnants and cultivators both. The spilling of Sun’s blood was no marvel, nor his dissipation, and so he turned to the strategist’s behind.

“Hohoho.,” cackled the woman. “Brother, the wager is won.”

“Yes,” came the second strategist’s response. Nasal and haughty. “Fwa-hah! The peerless ‘decorate a tree with flowers’ triumphs once more. I had little doubt.”

The farce of a fight ended between them, and those spectres that had fallen to their ethereal comrades’ feet soon stood. No longer holding a need for pretence.

“Blackhearted Fu Gao, might we speak? I would not shun an ill-fated encounter of this magnitude. Not for all the blades in your Master’s halls.”