The metallic lizard’s flesh proved to be a meal that was tough to swallow. Even if Fu had not stolen a taste.

Tearing, visceral sounds could be heard beyond the trickling water that decorated the passage to his cave, accompanied by the gnashing of many teeth. A persistent sound that was perpetuated by the carcass’ incredible mass, broken only when another pack of [Spirit Beasts] descended to clear those that were mid-feast.

This cyclic repetition had birthed a bloodied grave of sorts, a death-filled gully where each intervening group would add to the mounds of corpses with every bout of competition.

Leaving both Fu and his octopus unable to leave.

In these damp confines the tentacled [Spirit Beast] seemed at ease, almost lounging across the jagged rocks some way up from the moss-swamped stone. They watched Fu intently as he returned to the lotus position, drawing their foraged [Spirit Herbs] in a pile to his left. His path was that of [Body] and by his reasoning, that is why he had such trouble doing… anything with the collection.

Qi was clearly there, saturated in the petals or the stalks, casting a glow that, mostly, matched in hue with that which it was around. Between his fingers, and ever so gently, Fu turned over a moist, red foxglove. The bells numbered four, and it was a thinner sort of herb than the common variety, yet the feel of Qi was unmistakable.

This cave is cool and damp. It should have dried by now if the reason for its moisture was mundane. Water Qi, then?

He showed it to the octopus, who gave no reaction.

Among the pile were two jade lilies, a bundle of simple spirit grasses, a type of stripped, orange bark, and a stout mushroom. All glowing, and all returning the same sense of foreboding that any thoughts of consuming the surrounding moss supplied.

Trapped here, as they were, Fu had decided to attempt to do what his new vocation was famed for.

Namely, cultivate.

Placing the herbs aside himself, he passed along his intent. This spiritual link between the pair, he found, could not press whole images into the other, and it had to be reinforced with a physical prompt. Once Fu had patted his head, the octopus made its way over, each tentacle pressed where they had before.

On temples, neck and spine.

“Breathe,” Fu reminded himself, drawing in and out. He found closing his eyes helped immensely, washing him with a feeling of calm, and interconnectedness with that Bond atop his head.

From here, however, he was unsure what to do. There was a… draw to his [Dantian], as though some hidden vestige of his mind pushed his attention in that direction, and he followed the sensation inward. Gaseous Qi swirled about the container, [Air Qi] he presumed, his inner energy flowing as free as the wind.

Cultivate.

Nothing changed as he tried to exert his verbal command over the force. Then he tried to move it, or agitate it in some way to reassure him that he did indeed possess the ability to interact with it.

Fu felt his inner control grasp at it, a sensation of fingers slipping through hair bringing about some confusion. He tried again, hoping to snare a tendril or wisp, and again it seemed to push from his grasp, displacing. This time, he noticed the space surrounding it, forming a parallel with his previous experiences.

It is… My Qi is like a single goby caught in a rockpool. Too much space to move and escape my hands as they enter.

When fishing, and netless, Fu would have placed a basket beneath the goby to remove the available room it could move around, priming it for an easier catch. Here, he could not do that. The container, his [Dantian], could not expand. But he thought perhaps he might give himself more to grab on to.

Fu drew in a large gulp of air, adding it to the rhythm of his expanding chest, and this time, the feeling changed. A shared intent brought about an opening in his centre, a slight tingle upon his [Ink] that felt as though something was passing through it.

Qi trickled inwards, a pull from all sources. What air was contained within his lungs warbled, changing to split between the Qi contained there and… whatever was left. Mortal air, he supposed. This imbibed Qi reached his [Dantian] first, in rapid order in comparison to the ambient energy that entered through the mark upon his arm.

There the Qi massed, filling him to the brim. Fu grasped at it again now, finding that now full it would bend to his will. If minutely.

Exploratively, he rolled it upon itself in a swirl, and it complied. More movements followed, a jerk to the side, one lower, one to the other. Yet when he pushed the Qi to the upper wall, he was surprised to see it vanish.

His Bond sent him reassurance, swaying him to remain in this state of internal focus.

Fu pushed his Qi up again, finding that vanish was incorrect, it had merely gone beyond his perception. A twinge of discomfort bit as he pushed more towards this area, and a message of sorts was relayed back.

Streams move further from this point… yet they are muddied. My [Dantian] is like a pond, but filth has collapsed the banks around it.

Straining, he gathered more Qi from the surrounding area, using it to rush at what he felt to be clogged sand, tearing several thin layers free at the cost of what he had only just recovered.

The progress he had made minutes later was the height of a thumbnail, and it had ruined him completely.

Pain, both internal and external, wracked his body. Shallow breaths struggled to fill his lungs, and cold stung at his sweat-drenched, aching skin as he strove to stop from collapsing forwards where he sat. He flopped, momentarily unable to even hold the rigidity of his spine, saved by a set of arched tentacles.

With absent hands he found a loaf of moss, wringing the water within his open mouth. A second and third followed, and he shivered violently as droplets trailed down him. Above, his Bond descended, sending forth caution as each loaf was lifted.

“The water only. I know.” Fu extended one in offering, and it was quickly slapped aside. “A poison to you then, and to me on the inside. Through you. I will apologise for my lack of knowing once more.”

The octopus disregarded the courteous bow Fu performed, exchanging an expectant look at the passage ahead.

They are eager to move. Or warning of something.

At present it was fondling three of the arms closest to the front of its mantle, ruminating as though it were some great master stroking his beard.

“Many moons ago I met a man from beyond Thousand Shore City,” began Fu. “Another fisherman some distance of li from his home. Errant winds had blown his ship from its course, and by the Heaven’s good graces did he survive the journey. A laughing, bearded man, whose eyes crinkled with a smile despite how far he was taken from his family, and who would speak of them fondly whenever a breath could be drawn.”

His Bond did not react.

“You are perhaps just as skilled as I in reading characters, and I could not write his name should my life be at stake. But if I recall, it was Hushi. Would you take this as your own?”

Hushi stroked at his teal beard, and gestured to the passage once more.

Every hour that stretches on is another without my own family. Does it pain me to such an extent that I will speak at length? And to an octopus?

Fu managed to rise, having to pause as his skull filled with butterflies from the effort. He stole to the passage once it settled, and Hushi grappled around his neck with his many arms upon the stone.

A harsh sunlight greeted them, and after further steps Fu found that the ravine was devoid of violent sound.

By the Heavens, how much time has passed? My cultivation… it felt as though mere minutes had passed.

Feeling either alarmed or awful, still he lowered, peeking around the stone’s edge to scout the scene ahead.

Dozens of corpses littered the ground. Pools of blood had stained the grass crimson and brown, some dried and others still flowing. Sprays extended up the ravine’s walls, and a shredding of limbs showed both gnawed flesh and exposed bones simply strewn about the area. The quantity of felled [Spirit Beasts] was staggering, and the range presented, though Fu would not take the time to glean them all.

One of Hushi’s arms jabbed over the scene, marking his intent to move beyond the, for-now, peaceful slaughteryard.

This is the reason for your haste, then. A chance to break free from what has us trapped.

Fu cursed beneath his breath. They could not stay here, he knew, for more beasts were sure to return. Likely to start the cycle afresh, sealing them within their cave for what may be days on end.

If we cannot leave, then we cannot harvest more cores. A simple truth.

🀧

The infinite stars beyond the [Mystic Realm] were a heavenly map by which Fu could easily navigate. [Seasons] may shift, moons may pass, yet those celestial bodies did not rush, stalwart and unblinking as they watched over the Heavens.

Here, the stars were different. To say nothing of the twinkle within the cloudless [Summer] sky, or the clarity that their seemingly dusty masses projected despite the sun’s full embrace, Fu found them to be other.

Strange, and foreign.

Due to this, the rivers were his main means of navigation, and they had brought him handily back to the lake. The mouth where the river to his left connected to its parent source was thirty paces wide, shallow and calm enough that a herd of deer were currently resting by its side.

Fu thought better of trying to claim their [Spirit Cores], given their number.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

They are confident with their Spiritual kin nearby. Not skittish and fearful like those around Thousand Shore City.

A great many of their gazes were on him as he walked slowly to the lake, curious as he palmed fresh water into his mouth.

From beneath his douli Hushi nursed his head higher, directing his own sight. At first he could not find the source of his Bond’s interest, seeing only open water and the beasts that inhabited it. Distant shores revealed little either, though across a distance of several li he saw outlines of mortal figures.

“You warn me?” he asked, tilting his head into a cascade of tentacles.

More teal arms escaped beneath the brim, feeling at the air.

A waft of fragrance passed under his nostrils, faintly. He could feel a minor working of Qi where Hushi was touching, unravelling the empty air above his brow to push it into his senses. It did not empty any of the Qi within his own [Dantian], and neither had the conjuration of air that had allowed the octopus to suffocate the metallic lizard.

He has his own for such things then.

Nodding, Fu turned in the direction of the scent, and set off. The land sloped across the river, hidden amongst more forests of bamboo. Wary of the deer herd, he trudged slowly through, minding the shoreline.

Larger [Spirit Deer] filtered through their grazing kin, standing in warning vigil at the periphery and letting cry a rumbling bellow. A handful followed him while keeping to their wards, matching position even as he placed them to his rear. Fu trudged backwards to keep them in sight, only dropping his guard when the leaders pulled back by a step.

Docile still, despite their status.

He moved on swiftly once they were out of sight, and Hushi continued to wind the air to his nostrils, adjusting Fu’s direction only when his nose led them astray. The scent was intoxicating, with tones reminiscent of the rich honey that Grandmother Hua, and by extension, his children enjoyed with their tea.

At the thought of his family his hand moved beneath his hat, knuckles brushing Hushi as he touched his fingers to the [Spirit Core] fastened within.

One, despite so many days passing. I must secure more long before the [Season] shows signs of changing. The journey to the [Paifang] will be ordeal enough that I must not leave it to the final hour.

Hushi ordered a stop, drumming upon his cheek as they reached the first row of bamboo growth. Fledgling shoots had lined their way up the gentle slope, growing more dense the further they progressed. The stalks before him now were towering pillars, untended and solid. He would have to place his steps carefully to weave through them, creating a path of his own.

The nape of his neck prickled at the first step, and Fu retracted, looking about. Either side of the forest’s front presented nothing, and he looked to Hushi for reassurance.

It was a sensation similar to [Intent], as though some hidden malice had slipped out upon his entry. His second attempt did not see it return, and though his concentration had momentarily broken, the octopus pushed no feelings of reservation through their connection.

As his travels proceeded, the feeling did not return.

Fu focused his attention on negotiating through packed clumps of the bamboo. Those familiar tones of honey had him quite enraptured, and he could feel his mouth watering. Indeed, his previous concerns about the sensation were evaporating with every nasal breath, and he felt quite calmed.

Above, Hushi was lounging, no longer winding the air as he had done before, allowing their certain proximity to whatever exuded this delightful scent to draw them in by its own power.

Three stalks away, a pheasant clucked.

All the inner calm shifted to external action, a beat of Fu’s heart returning alertness to his thoughts. A cerulean fog circulated around the forest’s base, unnoticed to the pair. It reached no higher than his ankles, yet caused him to leap all the same.

Extending his arms, he caught himself between two stalks, keeping him elevated from the ground.

Wary, he searched every shadow and every blanket of thicker fog. Clumps were whorling, bulges of rounded shape that clad that which moved beneath.

Fu climbed higher, his [Might] allowing him to do this trite task with ease even as the fog crept towards his feet, its tendrils laying claim to the stalks.

Hushi.

Fu craned his head back, and his douli fell loose. The reeds that bound the [Spirit Core] and the herbs he had collected jostled free, swallowed by the fog. Atop his head, the octopus seemed loose, dream-like in composition. Its near gelatinous form was by no means rigid before, though now it slumped in his hair, as if melted.

“Hushi,” called Fu, shaking his head to try and rouse the beast. “Hushi,” he repeated, pooling his intentions and trying to spark a reaction in their bond.

The octopus’ arms wound out slowly, roused from slumber, and Fu watched the teal of its skin grow brighter. Hushi suddenly jerked, choking Fu for a brief instance as lucidity returned.

Below, the pheasant they had heard clucked out in panic. Frantic flapping sounded, drawing their eyes, and then a cry of pain. The cerulean fog enveloped it, a wave collapsing to drag it under the projected tide. [Intent] poured out now, a different sort than previously. He was confused at how he knew this, but now was not the time to delve into such things.

Fu grasped upwards, ensuring his grip as the fog crawled faster now, winding and winding towards his feet, up and around the stalk. Edges where it had been below now shifted, the mass of cerulean taking from one end to extend its reach at the other.

Stripped bones were revealed in the now-empty forest floor, a devoured pheasant bereft of much flesh.

An electrifying presence touched at his exposed feet as the fog reached him, climbing faster now than he could. Another came, and another, and soon hundreds of jolts coated him to his right knee. Hushi clambered down Fu’s body with an expert’s grace, and in repetition of his fight with the lizard, Fu’s [Dantian] depleted.

What Qi was released spurred a change in the octopus, and he swelled in both size and length, compressed air circulating around each arm.

He struck out, fanning more than lashing, and these whirls abated much of the climbing fog, pushing back the cerulean. Beneath, dozens of glowing worms clambered, and Fu noticed the blood trailing from his flesh from where their teeth had sunk deep.

As if seeing the injury was the only prerequisite for pain, it then flared in intensity, causing one side of his body to slip.

Fu cried out, falling, secured by one hand alone. His limbs moved frantically, slapping at the bamboo in desperation to catch himself. Yet he fell, all the same.

Cerulean fog rushed to embrace him, washing and streaming across him as hundreds of legs covered his body. Now, he felt them bite. Now he felt them rip flesh from his bones with an almost methodical precision, beginning at the shin and tearing what little was there before moving upwards in sections.

A roll did not dislodge the worms, and it brought him to his feet with many still embedded in his skin. The pain caused a stagger, and something hard met his back. He whirled, striking only a blockade of bamboo before madly rounding on the encroaching fog. It was spread thin, pressing on both he and Hushi, and as a result the cerulean halfway between each of them was sparse and balding.

Something roiled there.

A thick and fleshy worm easily ten paces across.Fu booted out with his worm embroiled leg, failing to dislodge all but a few. He cursed aloud, feeling them strip flesh from beneath his knee now, and knowing that the pain would be excruciating were he to place any weight upon it at all.

So he hopped, driving for the largest creature in the hopes that it was the conductor of this foul ambush. With such [Might] as he held, the bounds cleared two or three steps at a time, only rising in speed. Hushi dropped atop his shoulders, bearing strangely little weight. Immediately his many arms poured upon the climbers, a cleansing force of air around each that swatted them clear.

The [Spirit Worm] squirmed away at no great speed, collecting the lesser of its kin to gather before it. Fog thickened there, masking what was underneath, and laying an unavoidable trap of deadly, wriggling teeth.

Fu had no time to stop, nor the balance, thus he barrelled into the creatures. His feet disturbed the gathered pile, and they splashed upwards like a writhing liquid. Teeth, no matter how minuscule, tore at his exposed chest and arms, concentrating more upon the lower sections no doubt with a view to cut his movement completely.

In a twist, Hushi swung around his body, cleansing every region he came across despite the obvious wounds that were mounting on him.

Momentum, however, still carried the pair forth, and Fu landed atop the worms’ leader. A squishy mass, slime-coated and warm. It struggled in silent protest, drawing more fog to replace his vision. But Fu rained down blows, clamping his bloodied, nigh fleshless knees in a vice around either side of it, securing it in place.

The punches seemed useless, his knuckles bouncing into absorbent skin. So he scored his nails in, filthy and unkempt, slashing in the same manner as the smaller worms’ teeth. Flesh peeled, collecting in horrid, slimy strips, drawing pools of something watery. A lumpy, cerulean soup gushing upon Fu’s own wounds.

He drove harder, feeling a single mote of panic through he and Hushi’s bond, and plunged his tensed hand inside the [Spirit Worm].

His second followed swiftly, snaking internally like its counterpart, and with all of his might, Fu lifted.

A pathetic initial resistance led to nothing else, and both hands erupted through the worm. One oblong crater of flesh came with them, a chunk just greater in size than Fu’s own head, flying over his shoulder. Slime-drenched, he needled his fingers into the open, inner sides of the creature, ripping the rest like parchment.

Only when both sides of the creature were torn asunder, did Fu and Hushi stop.

The pair remained stationary, one heaving in energised, panicked breaths, and the other curling up tight to the side, shivering. The lesser worms had simply vanished, fading away into a fog that now rescinded and leaving an empty forest floor.

Many minutes passed until they were ready to rise once more.

Fu struggled over to Hushi first, dragging across the ground and sucking up all manner of leaf and bark into his catastrophic wound. Exposed muscle and spurting blood now lousy with detritus. He ignored the wound, placing a hand atop the octopus’ mantle. “You fought bravely, Hushi,” he said, noting that his Bond had three stumps in place of full arms.

The beast returned to its normal size, and laboriously dragged itself atop Fu’s outstretched arm, finding its place atop his head. Concern for its human flared more passionately than any it held for itself however.

“We are cultivators.” Gesturing to his leg, Fu continued. “Such lesser injuries will heal, I am sure.”

A husky voice cut out across the forest then, its origin unknown. “The Azure Shoal Sect has surely neglected your education, boy.” The man, as far as Fu could guess, was out of sight. Each syllable uttered bounced from stalk to stalk in chorus, prompting his head to turn in many different directions.

Until it was before him, and its owner’s breath was upon his face.

Strokes of silver [Ink] parted the arrival’s face across both cheeks, soft angles like puddles that met close to the bridge upon his nose. The skin around it was dark however, darker yet than Fu had ever seen, and a reflection of the aged bronze of his inquisitive eyes.

Upon seeing his status as a cultivator, Fu clasped his hands and steeled himself through the surfacing pain in his leg. “This humble man greets you, master cultivator.”

“Oh? And what makes you so humble, man?” he grunted in return. “A fresh disciple that has slain a [Cerulean Fog Worm] should be arrogant, no?”

The words are important. Qi reacts when this name is said.

Fu lowered his hands, though they remained clasped. Strength was evident in this stranger, and if he turned out to be of the same murderous ilk as the others from Thousand Shore City then Fu feared there was precious little he might do to defend himself.

As such, he would mind his manners. “As you say, Senior.”

After several heartbeats of silent scrutiny, the man stood tall. A simple, sleeveless hanfu clad his imposing frame in the same colour as his ink. The same colour as his Bond, who spiralled down from the heavens to land within the [Spirit Worm’s] carcass.

A diminutive shrike who, a moment later, emerged with the [Spirit Core] between its beak. It fluttered to the man’s shoulder, who took the treasure. “Greed, perhaps? Your mandate is to bond with only one [Spirit Beast], and none but mortals may enter the [Mystic Realm]. Do you think yourself a genius under the heavens? That you might form a [Two-Pointed Dantian] before the Qi rejects you from this place?”

“I am in search of five [Spirit Cores], Senior.”

“My, the Sect grows greedy.” He brought the [Spirit Core] to his eye, arched a brow, and tossed it into Fu’s lap. “Well, disciple, this cannot be managed with a single leg. Come, aid me in recovering what is gathered here and we shall see to that injury. It may do some good to hear tale of the outside world.”

Fu tilted his head to Hushi, who repositioned to watch the stranger walk away from the [Spirit Worm]. Straight over to the dozens of skeletons that mired the forest’s base, spread in segments amidst leaves, weathered robes, and, chiefly, a selection of weapons that might have proved incredibly useful not ten minutes ago.