Fu’s [Primordial Constellation Gate] burned, if such a thing were possible. Strained, he pondered, thinking this the better term. As such, he rubbed his shoulder blade. The second treasure had been rejected by the first, to an almost violent end.

Zhu fared no better.

Both men had shrugged off the peculiarity for their eyes were not larger than their stomachs, and had made across the city with more glee in their step than was usual for a pair of corpse-toting cultivators.

Which had arrived them thus, to the Clouded Court building. To where Zhu’s Qi manipulation might be dropped and such a display turned nary an eye.

“Senior,” said Fu, his first words upon reaching the underground labyrinth below their home. “These juniors have a report.”

By choice, these were not delivered to the squad leader. But in plain view of the aides, the attendants and ghosts that swarmed around the administration platform.

“The dragon’s disciple, if I recall,” returned their senior. The same effeminate man whose name Fu surely ought to know. “And our disciple of plums. Know now, juniors, while your names and association are not known- an axe hangs above you. A disaster, your role in the Silver Loom.”

The pair bowed lower.

Then, evoking Yunhan’s manner of speech- the man simply stated. “Report.”

Yet as Fu began their tale, of auctions, of vapour-wrapped cultivators and [Mystic Realms], he was urged to stop. A shadow of something moved behind their senior’s eyes, recognition, perhaps, and a fierce knowing.

“Halt,” he commanded, and bid the pair - corpse still slung upon Zhu’s shoulder - to rise, and a flex of two digits then came. Before either man might react, [Spatial Qi] engulfed them, and banished the scene of rushing scrolls and busied scribes.

The pit of Fu’s stomach roiled as they were delivered to a non-descript room. Dank, as his partially blurred vision cleared, yet only in attribute to the light that scant reached each corner.

An entrance of imposing, gilded serpents blocked their path, with a door of scaled construction closed beneath. Naught else in sight, save for the walls encasing them in each spare direction.

A room without entrance. What might be stored here? No. Who might preside here, or what acts might befall those that enter?

With words in the vein of ‘ an axe hangs above you’, Fu’s [Clouded Ghost Arts] proved a small struggle to maintain. He recalled the Clouded Archives, and wondered if some similar manner of illusion or [Dao] were in effect.

Until, at least, the serpents here writhed.

The stone was revealed to be flesh, and each intricate line showed itself to be a scale upon mighty coats of umbral grey. But these fled as the once-carvings dropped, becoming the pale and shaded skin of two human-appearing youths. They strode about the three, stalked in a circuit, as though tightening a noose with the lithe dance that carried them hence.

“Disturbances,” one hissed.

“Discourteous,” hissed the other.

“Distasteful.”

“Disrespectful.”

“Yes,” carried the susurrus, only in conversation with the other. “What stirs them?”

“It should be asked.”

“It should.”

“Speak.”

Each passing sound put a chill up Fu’s spine, and broke only when his Senior began to speak. “I bring a missive for the Elder,” he said flatly.

“A missive of what nature?”

“Enough to disturb?”

“To disrespect?”

“An opening of a [Mystic Realm] within a [Mystic Realm],” replied the senior.

Here the once-serpents retracted, scalded, it seemed, by his words. This brought Fu to ponder what scale of trouble he was embroiled in to draw a reaction such as this, and from [Spirit Beasts] that may well be the Elder’s own.

[Of Perennial Shade]? Her domain is the Clouded Court Squads, is this who we are to meet?

The doors ahead did not so much open as fade in the wake of both serpents, who now reverted to their bestial forms. Changed as they crossed the threshold into a domain of peculiar, alien making.

Fu trode a path of turgid black and white, with no grey to soften the edges. No colour. Each thing was stark, emboldened by the outline of the two shades that worked against each other in contrast. Limited, however, in form. For the three men now stalked below a canopy of sickly branches, radiant in a brighter tinge than purest snow, and offset only by the lagoons of shadow within each jagged leaf. Of which, spanned unmeasurable li.

Suddenly he started, as fabric was unceremoniously foisted into his hands, granted by his senior that had bound his own eyes with a similar strip. To look, Fu saw Zhu doing the same, albeit a fumble with the corpse atop his shoulder.

The [Dao]- here was a mire of profundity. It suffused the very air, and alternated his breaths with a strange silence wherein one would echo and the other cast nothing.

But he shook his head, even as the [Dao] wished to puncture his mind with visions of immense insight. To follow, he felt, would put his mind at jeopardy. Thus Fu quieted it, rejecting all he saw without use of the cloth.

“Elder [Of Perennial Shade], this disciple offers their most humble greetings!” called the senior, coming to a bow at no particular distance that Fu might see.

Yet while the trunk ahead loomed no closer for their steps, a voice returned with perfect clarity from its base. “Oh?”

“The disciples involved in the Silver Loom incident have returned.”

The second, “Oh,” sounded, and prefaced an unsightly change.

Currents of black receded beneath the three’s feet. What leaves dangled at their height, blurred. All around, the realm seemed to flex, pulling taught thereafter to wrench its occupants towards the trunk.

Here Fu could barely suppress the bile his nausea had pooled before the Elder spoke again, near, and above. “Disciple Gao Fu. Disciple Zhu. Fledgling serpents scarcely cause such a ruckus, I’d expect a fitting explanation.”

“As… as you wish it, Elder,” managed Fu, reeling from an intensity of vertigo.

“Disciple Jiahao you may go. If you’ve decided a matter is of enough import to bring it to me, then there’s work to be done to remedy it, no?” The Elder gestured airily, as if scolding a grandchild. Though Fu knew this is where the similarity to such an image ended, given she sat upon a gnarl of brightest white - her gargantuan [Spirit Serpents] ensconcing the trunk. “Do tell me, Gao Fu, what complications arose.”

But the man’s mouth was dry now, faced with a mountain of weight. One borne of predatory eyes, and the fables that bore them.

“I would be bold, Elder,” saved Zhu.

“Would you?” snapped [Of Perennial Shade]. “Would you? One of the [Plum Axe’s] litter, A bearer of his mantra. An unremarkable speck among legions. Strange, that you would offer what I’ve yet to ask for. No. Gao Fu will speak, as this is what is asked. You will not speak again.”

Fu stole a pace, intent on hiding his companion from the scrutiny of their Elder’s ire. “Our mission within the Silver Loom auction proceeded as we had expected, and under our fallen brother’s guidance we stole into the storage without incident.”

“Disciple Quan Ding’s path has ended then?” [Of Perennial Shade] stroked the chin of one of her serpents, which to Fu’s great shock then rushed to coil loosely around Zhu. “Not the sole misfortune to rise within your squad, and on the back of such fresh disciples. The Seventy Fifth girl, and now a second. The Silver Loom holds his body now, though it’s seldom less trouble than it’s worth to retrieve.”

Her serpent, this one coated in ephemeral black, sopping as though fresh ink bled from its hide, lunged. With grace it stole the corpse from Zhu’s shoulder, arriving before the Elder but a moment after.

“Continue, Gao Fu.”

Having overcome his dryness, Fu met the gaze of his Elder. A wicked crook piqued her lips, some half-smile for reasons unknown. “We came upon the Silkworm Hall cultivators as they met with an unknown cultivator. An expert of black robes, [Spirit Tiger] and misty Qi. She revealed our presence, and we retreated to the safety of numbers to hold them at bay.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“A [Spirit Tiger],” hissed the Elder, flashing a sleeve to conjure a disturbance to her side. The monochromatic air warbled, and calligraphed itself into a semblance of the Bond he had seen. From sabre-long teeth to the spectral upper form enshrouded in Qi. “I see the recognition. Yes. This youth here, she will have shared signs of this heritage.”

“As you say, Elder,” nodded Fu, following a subtle cue to expand his point. “A fray ensued between the Silver Loom and Silkworm Hall, and as fate willed, we were able to flee- giving chase to the remaining member that sought refuge in a [Paifang].”

[Of Perennial Shade] bid the corpse closer. “If you must guess, do so correctly,” she snapped. “As fate willed. Sought refuge. The first is by merit of Clouded Court training, don’t disparage your own Sect, disciple. Fate wills nothing for crickets- saving itself for worthy serpents. The second- bah. The disciple would do well to put in his eyes. They sought no refuge, if the phenomena that was reported came to pass.”

“This junior misspoke, Elder, and offers his apologies.”

“Gah. My fondness saves you, boy. Fangs surround you, know this,” she dismissed the ink-made [Spirit Tiger]. “Again, report.”

“The Silkworm Hall was slain by that cultivator upon our arrival in the [All Sky Peak], and used some manner of treasure to alter the [Mystic Realm]. It adopted a [Trial] nature, and pit hundreds of cultivators against [Demons] to name the winner. These juniors…” Fu paused, rephrasing what words might have come next. “These juniors, outmatched, waited for their opportunity and retrieved the [Trial’s] treasure from beneath the cultivator’s notice.”

“My,” intoned the Elder. “These juniors should be rewarded then. This corpse was near the peak of [Core Formation], so says her residual Qi. A disciple of the Sepulchral Saber Sect. With the parameters of this assignment and its evolving nature… yes, I’d say it was exemplary if that plum-eyed boy had not soured my mood.”

“These juniors are unworthy of any praise, Elder. We take joy in knowing the Sect is served by our actions,” declared Fu, his head to the black.

“An adequate response. Speak on this cultivator, Gao Fu, even paired- you juniors were not her equal. She fell by another, didn’t she? My beloveds taste serpent in your scent, and I would know now, disciple, if a cousin must be silenced.”

“A disciple of the name Yifei aided us, Elder. Using the implication of allegiance, we navigated our [Dao Oaths] to enlist her. Promising the treasures of the [Reliquary] as her payment, as we did not seek it ourselves.”

“Yet it’s in your possession. Most discourteous, to lie to a member of the Inner Sect. She would know the value of the [Trial],” mused [Of Perennial Shade]. “How duplicitous, how selfless, to offer her a [Constellation Seed] as prize. Though I sense it’s a falsehood to say your opportunity was entirely fruitless.”

[Constellation Seed].

Only by merit of his training did Fu’s [Clouded Ghost Arts] maintain.

“Two, now, Gao Fu, and one for the plum-eyes. Disciples of note, I should say. The world is vast and unending. Yet through vicissitudes and the turning of red dust do but a fateful clutch ever learn of their existence. Truly, the Heavens have blessed our Sect these [Seasons] passed.”

Hushi impressed the sidelong look of Zhu. Disbelief evident even beneath his cloth binding, if only for a breath.

What net have I swam into? How far does her knowledge go? The [Hundred Immunities Fruit] was not mine to absorb, yet this is allowed by her… as leverage, no doubt.

For all the cold that ran down his spine, he contemplated further. The Elder had not asked on the true treasure, and spoke with a conviction that told him she knew there was something above what [Constellation Seeds] they might have gained.

What then, was it?

Zhu dared to move, unearthing the [Mystic Realm’s] ultimate reward to proffer it in two open palms.

The Elder’s eyes became slits, narrow and weighted. Before either man’s heart could beat, she was simply there, having crossed the distance with unfathomable speed. She took the bone, parsing but two words before the surrounding black consumed it. “Such [Tribulation].”

Profound silence reigned.

A minute, two, three, and more. Fu would not disrespect his Elder, nor invite danger upon himself by chancing a look at her expression, despite his curiosity. While his foot was half-submerged in the world of cultivation, to be involved in matters of this scale- of this obvious severity, was not his intention.

“Now it falls to the matter of rewarding my disciples. Yes,” said the Elder, already returned to her seat beyond. “But what? A gift of station? An armament, treasure, pill? You’ve gained much from this encounter and my Clouded Court Squads possess all a ghost might need. Time, perhaps, might suit young Gao Fu well. The Zhu boy- for all his shameful qualities, holds little hunger. A quality of character in fitting with his partner.”

She speaks idly, as if we are no longer present.

“Both disciples will ask a question,” she finally suggested.

The time spent holding his tongue had Zhu’s voice come swift. “Are we to pursue these villains from the Sepulchral Saber Sect, Elder? Truthfully, if these rewards are commonplace when facing them I’d soon face them once more.”

[Of Perennial Shade] barked out a laugh. “Purposefully callous before an Elder,” she admonished. “No. You’d ask this not of self importance- as you’ve stated. Not from bloated self-image, no. But you know of your place, disciple. Speak as we might now, you are no exceptions to any rule. One grain of rice amidst a brimming bag. Conjecture is no use, nor strategy above your station. Your role, your lease, with these villains is ended. Innumerable ghosts span these lands ready to meet those I wish, and so I will say again- no. Think no more on these matters as they are of no concern to you.”

Zhu dipped his head, giving way to Fu. “Apologies, Elder, but this junior would ask on the time granted where he is free from duty.”

This drew another barking laugh. “[Winter], isn’t it? Then, yes, your encounter has dug heels into personal time. Bah. One disciple asks for power, and another, to peel back the passing of days. Meagre boons, I’d say. Very well, I shall grant both.” With an absent gesture of fingers, the Elder sent forth-

White, cleansing liquid of the purest shade scoured across both men’s arms. Fu recoiled as it climbed, clambered, and submerged his skin. He felt a warmth of pain take hold, and then… a rejuvenation in its wake.

The inlaid serpent of his [Contribution Array] was replaced by pristine flesh- or the equivalency for one as aged as Fu, yet he sensed the Qi there remain. A superficial change, he wondered, before his [Ink] burned with a fresh acquisition.

“To aid in both pursuits,” said the Elder, dismissing them with a wave. “Now take leave, disciples, with what time remains of this granted leave. I’ve no further use for you.”

Both men gave their gratitude, turning tail thereafter.

However the Elder called a final time, her tone cold. “A second warning, Gao Fu. I’d not see you in such rags again, yes? My ghosts are not to be ragged.”

🀨

“It doesn’t detract from it? No?” asked Zhu, casually stripped to the waist, a finger where his [Ink] might be.

Wary of the gazes put forth by his fellow disciples, Fu attempted a smile. “Your [Bloodline] masks it well,” he said. “My own is… less subtle.”

A slight embellishment of white framed Zhu’s plum-ringed eyes now, where Fu’s own [Ink] had adopted more. Never one for vanity, the study of his visible [Ink] had barely come to mind in the past [Seasons].

Yet now he traced each cloud. Each puff of teal that marked his [Air Affinity], the interconnected streams that told of his [Dao], the two punctuating stars amidst this tapestry that he fretted over - now knowing that each might well represent a [Constellation Seed]. And now, the last addition of an inner frame. A purity of white within each scrawl from low shoulder to mid-elbow.

It has grown significantly. No doubt more as I near [Core Formation].

“That something besides the Heavens could bring a change like this. It is sobering to know the depths of an Elder,” Fu continued.

“Ah, you would say that,” said Zhu. “This origin of yours confounds me, and has proven you to remain a vexation. True Immortals are calamities in their own right, to affect one’s [Ink] is a paltry thing. If it’s of consolation, it differs little from a [Dao Principle] or [Array]. With her station, it’d not likely reveal us in our duties.”

Fu nodded. “Still. We have survived it.”

“We have.”

Nothing more was said as they arrived at the entrance of the Clouded Archive, where the serpentine motions unravelled as they had before. The same sense of grandeur struck Fu upon entry to this strange realm, with its endless stacks, myriad clouds and all that lay within.

“Disciple Gao Fu. Disciple Zhu,” greeted the [Vestige] that arrived before them. Another spectral woman of scholarly fashion, her hue one of brightest lime.

“We greet you, senior,” said Fu, dipping his head. “We have come for clarification, if this does not trouble you. On an Elder’s token.” When uttered aloud, he noted how the Qi did not mark it of importance. No distant vibration to touch his lobes.

“Clarification on an Elder’s token,” repeated the [Vestige]. “I sense the mark upon you, disciples, of what aid might I be?”

Zhu sighed audibly. “Clarification, [Vestige]. What does this afford us? The Clouded Archive is open to us, no? Yet the capacity is not stated.”

“It affords the right of transit, disciple Zhu, and the right of perusal. No more than once a [Season].”

“Transit or perusal. Time or power,” noted Fu. “As was said. Gratitude, Senior Scribe. Could you expand on this? This Junior lacks in understanding of such things. How might the Clouded Archives offer transit?”

The [Vestige] granted him a warm smile. “It would be my honour to serve one that bears the Elder’s favour. Transit comes from the myriad entrances you see before you, each host to a [Spatial Array]. Beyond each frame stands a branch of our Clouded Court Squads, placed wherever they might be across the land.”

Hushi paused in time with his cultivator, well interested in the topic. “There is such a good thing?” exclaimed Fu.

“That’s preposterous,” said Zhu, emotively aghast. “You mean to say that the Cloudy Serpent Sect possesses a means of traversing the entirety of the Clear Sky Empire in a span of breaths? No [Array] master beneath the Heavens could accomplish such a thing!”

“Yet it is so,” said the [Vestige], her smile cooling when faced with Fu’s companion. “The craftsmanship and insight are outwith my duties, nor could I share them were I willing. It is a marvel, and this is all needs said.”

“Perusal, however, that’s within your duties.”

Again the [Vestige] looked to be suppressing a scowl. “Limited to either, disciple Zhu. This is no mere repository, no base archive with unaffiliated texts. The collated knowledge of five hundred generations resides here. Cultivation manuals of bygone eras, conquered Sects, [Demonic] kings, opposing factions, from insignificant corner nations to those of the [Cherry River Inheritors]. This is what you may peruse. If only with the usual limitations.”

“Stay within the Scroll Hall, and such overused rhetoric?” sighed Zhu.

“As the disciple says.”

Fu heard this, noted it, and pushed aside his contemplation. “Senior Scribe, how might I reach Divine Clouded Mountain?”

The [Vestige] spread a hand, conjuring a sizable nimbus to her side. “You have but to ask, honoured disciple.”

“Then-”

Zhu dismissed him with a hand. “Less than two weeks stand till [Winter], Gao Fu. There’s little need to say farewell.”

“Until [Winter], then, Zhu,” he replied, near tripping as he hastened atop the nimbus. His grin wide enough to have him look moon-touched, which he found himself to care exceedingly little about.