Fu put himself lower in expectation that the shade below would soon look up. A cloak of darker pitch surrounded this figure, and by how it prowled he thought his presumption to be true.

Doubtless, the disciples of Silkworm Hall were among them.

The scuff Ding had sounded was harmless enough, but enough to give their quarry concern, clearly, as the form below skulked lower to the very spot where it had originated.

A heartbeat passed.

Two.

Ten.

As best he could, Fu materialised his chain in silence. The links, cool in his grasp, and its hooked head levelled to strike.

His foe’s silhouette jerked upright then, distracted by the near shouts of attendants some few strides back. Another item was rotated for its turn in auction, and the accompanying cries had given the figure pause.

Is this alertness simple diligence? Or do they suspect that another party might already be on their trail?

With such lacking information, he deigned to expect the worst. Thus he impressed Hushi to act.

A slow procession of arms unfurled him from the douli, and delivered him to the shelf with no noise that feathers nor claws might make. He drew along the outer recesses of the wall, and further into black. His own [Qi Suppression] mastered long ago.

But the shadow turned before any of the Clouded ghosts would strike, and pushed deeper into the warehouse in turn.

It was a mental breath that Fu released then, for anything else might draw attention. After a count of ten was reached, he followed, making his way across the framework of shelves. Small bounds, from top, to stacked crates, and to shelves again. An irregular sequence that edged him closer to the passage’s end.

His link told of Hushi’s presence some few strides off, and he was satisfied with the octopus’ efforts given that Fu could see naught but darkness in his direction.

Their pursuit continued in this fashion for many rows, this wary step that had both search both high and low for any shaded presence. By nature, this task was fraught with difficulty, and he put no stock in his skill of detection over the stealth of their foes.

His skin prickled as such, and rose as they came upon an end to the passage.

A waiting disciple stood there, solitary save for the [Spirit Silkworm] that hung sash-like upon his chest. By his body language, Fu sensed his irritation - his impatience, perhaps. Fidgeting fingers, rapping upon the flesh of his Bond.

Crates were about him, stacked by each wall to show no entrance that Fu might see. Yet any thoughts this conjured were quashed as Tanshuai landed by his side. A silent drift, and an appearance that almost had surprise shed his [Clouded Ghost Arts].

Butterfly was not his native tongue, but he took her slow dance and edging step as an instruction to hold back. Which he did in fitting time.

For the shadows beneath were flocking. Not in a tide, or in visible fashion. It was the infinitesimal disturbance of air that called to him. Unimportant when the scene ahead showed its cause.

Dregs of black vapour blinked before the waiting disciple, unfurling to deliver a cultivator in its place. Another shrouded individual, marking her with a vocation similar to all gathered. A blackened douli denied sight of her face, and only the frame beneath her clothes gave hints to her gender.

Strangely, the Silkworm Hall disciple offered no respect, his face clear to see. An expression of boredom painted there. “The trouble of meeting here has increased the price, benefactor,” he said.

“Have you done as asked?” came her reply, bypassing the previous statement.

“The serpents are twisted, if this is your question. But,” he laughed. “To do as we have done- again, we believe that the modest sum we are owed does not reflect the efforts spent.”

Fu noted the words, if only to report them later. Meaning, no doubt tinged them, but he would not guess them now.

“The second objective,” the woman asked, curling her palm to the side. Either by her power, or otherwise, a [Spirit Cat] materialised. A brutish, iron-hued beast of trailing vapour. A creature that bore striking resemblance to Yuqi’s Yiji, if not for the menace of twin fangs that protruded by its mouth.

Her question had the Silkworm draw from a spatial pouch, a lesser device that had its Qi detectable for any with their [Senses] extended, and a length of white was withdrawn. Bone, by its shaping, with an origin that was doubtlessly bestial.

He extended the bone, though the shaded cultivator made no move to take it. His grin was mercenary, and he flipped the item in his palm. “Will we revisit our terms now?”

“Terms,” intoned the woman, and silence followed.

Warmth receded from the room. The gloom adopted a touch of iron-grey. A [Killing Intent] spread.

Dread formed in Fu as it touched his own soul, and he instinctively brought up his own to combat it. But this was the difference between Heaven and earth.

Driven to a knee, the force wormed inside his mind. Flashes of cold, of worry, of fear and power- dominating his mind and body. He felt as though his grave embraced him, searched for him, clawing from where the woman stood.

“The terms were subtlety. To inflict disharmony without trace. Yet you are more brigand than spectre, and all that your shadow brings are a dwelling for the serpents within,” stated the cultivator, and as if it were a tide, her [Intent] vanished. “Fulfil your end.”

No longer suppressed, Fu’s [Intent] gushed out. Added to by Ding’s, a shelf ahead, and Zhu’s some steps to his right.

“Serpents!” growled the Silkworm, and he drew a chain from his spatial storage. A knife-point on its tip.

In the seconds it took Fu’s [Intent] to rescind, he had moved. He leapt, conjured a cloud from his [Half Cloud Step], and somersaulted into a devastating kick.

Against an unsuspecting foe, it was brutally swift, and Quan Ding was smashed free of his perch to the ground below.

The vapour-clad woman remained still, as did her Bond, sicking only the dogs of Silkworm Hall towards them.

However, Fu held faith that the Silver Loom would not be idle. An [Intent] of the magnitude just shown was sure to draw attention, and as such he was bolting towards the light. To the safety of platforms and attendants.

Three shelves on, a blade rose to meet him. The cruel edge of a cleaver swung at his chest, only narrowly dodged. It appeared from the shadows ahead, and it was solely momentum that allowed it to miss.

He went horizontal, and passed below it. Cloud pooled beneath his feet a moment later, and he sprung back, lashing his chain. The hook was deflected hastily, rebuffed by a Silkworm that made itself known.

Hushi.

Fu landed three strides from his foe, gripping his hook. He projected menace, and made a show of descending into an irregular stance. Outwardly calculating, while his true worries of the unknowable number of Silkworms about him were suppressed.

“Serpent!” hissed the cleaver-bearer.

His last word, as Hushi jetted forth.

As the man’s eyes were fixed on Fu, the octopus flung himself from shadow, and his cultivator did likewise. They met in the center, prefaced by a ragged gasp. For eight arms now constricted the man’s throat, and a hook now pierced his Bond, delivered by a burst of [Half Cloud Step].

“Be wary of the Serpent’s Bond,” called a second voice.

“Unorthodox, and [Air],” called a third.

Fading voices, that Fu had already put to his rear. He bounded back, and dropped low, navigating the walkway between shelves and crates. A touch of his sole, and a [Half Cloud Step] in tandem each time.

Further, he urged, further.

Stolen story; please report.

The light of the store’s nexus was well in reach now, and voices rang out in muddled confusion. Orders were shouted, calls for cultivators to be summoned. No doubt for the inspection of Fu’s noisy clash.

He impressed Hushi to stay hidden as he blurred to a platform’s side, mid-hoist, arriving to startle the group that carried it. A foolish idea, but not without merit. For discovery was as lethal as any blade to those of their appointment.

“Villainy,” he cried, feigning a pant. “Thieves come to steal our venerable Silver Loom’s wares!”

“Who are-”

Zhu appeared, easing both Fu’s worry and the task at hand. “They have bypassed the [Ten Changes Equilibrium Array]! An expert-” he cut off, blustering out a cough.

But so too did the Silkworm’s arrive, for a total of three. They blurred at the light’s periphery, holding maddened grins, each.

The Clouded ghosts shared a single look before an explosion of Qi burst from the air before their foes. Strings of putrid green, sopping with ichor continued outwards. One punctured to Fu’s left, creating a hole through the closest attendant’s chest, and sizzling the flesh as it pushed further.

A second came, and a third, cleansing the nexus of attendants in short order.

Where these strings finally impacted, they bounced, and redoubled on themselves in sporadic directions. Making a loom of the occupied space.

Fu sprung backwards on his hands, inverting, twisting and leaping over each. Deft moves, informed less by experience and more by the signature his [Thousand Immunities Fruit] could detect.

“The experts are needed,” called Zhu. “Flee, while we hold them back!”

For added effect, Fu cried out his own. “For the glory of the Silver Loom!”

He could not gauge the number of remaining attendants, only that they tread no martial path. Theirs was a scramble, fear-filled and panicked, and it took them in scattered directions. Tens, he saw, with a reducing total as they succumbed to the [Poison Qi] soaked lattice.

Then Fu’s focus was further split as a resounding voice descended in their midst. An illustrious, silver-clad expert, its source. “You dare interrupt our auction! Bastards among curs! Nine generations of your family slain is not enough to atone for this!”

A qiang emerged in her hand, radiant to match the [Spirit Crane] that landed at its tip, and she pushed out her [Dao].

The moon arrived before Fu’s eyes, a waning crescent bordered by golden inscriptions. But its rays took precedent, for a myriad graced the tattered arena. They touched down with gentle poise, and turned each string to motes of silver light, swiftly ridding the space of danger.

Does the [Array] not limit power? I feel a mountain within her!

Similar sentiment showed in the Silkworms then. Horror, and wisdom guiding them to turn tail and flee. The three disciples flashed from their spots, each taking a different path.

“I do not think so! Face your transgressions!” the silver-clad cultivator roared, and her [Dao] moon shifted phase, waning further. It brought the moonlit specks of Qi to bare, and gathered them as a force of wisps, giving chase.

Fu followed suit, and lashed his chain towards the leftmost and closest. His [Dao of Wayward Breezes] extended the weapon just as it had before his ponderance.

Vapour, however, countered both his target. A small showing, and in no grand fashion, yet an accumulation directed them elsewhere. It had the SIlkworm gain distance, and disappear into the gloom.

“Another hidden fiend!” The woman narrowed her eyes at Fu. “The water will recede soon enough, and I will know the rocks beneath. But now, you will gave chase, stranger. Kill the chickens that this monkey might be dealt with!”

Fu caught his chain, bowing as swiftly as he could. Albeit behind the back of the silver-clad woman, who blurred after her [Spirit Crane], vanishing into a passage ahead. The passage where he knew vapours to have pooled.

The Heavens smile.

[Half Cloud Step] blurred him from the scene, and towards the darkness where both Zhu and Hushi already moved.

🀨

The chaos of the Silver Loom’s corridors proved a troubling distraction for their passage, but Fu knew the rice was cooked.

What interruption they had caused to the auction was done, and the tide of impatient scions, mistresses and merchants had decided that they would not wait further. Insults flew from their lips as they had their festivities cut short; curses on the establishment, the beration on how they were treated, and how this was fitting only for those beneath their station.

Fu, and by circumstance, the Silkworm disciple, were privy to it all. For they drove above the heads of the disgruntled, bounding from walls, landing, and causing no small uproar each time they did.

But open air soon quieted it, and the skyline of the Four Corners Prefecture absorbed any cries sent their way.

He felt Zhu at his side as he burst into the open gardens, who urged him on before the twinned cultivators at the entrance might react.

“Our attempts at subtlety haven’t succeeded,” he called, his voice level despite their excessive pace.

Fu held his eyes on the Silkworm ahead, noting his identity as the assumed, mercanarial leader they had witnessed previously. “Our mission is to seek answers,” he replied. “Our efforts below sow confusion, and leave no trace of our belonging.”

“Ah, Quan Ding’s butchered corpse isn’t a signature then?”

The garden’s boundary wall and how both scaled it prevented Fu from answering. Though his gut still wrenched as they crossed the adjacent rooftops. “Let us secure our quarry,” he finally said.

A grunt sounded from Zhu, but he relented, putting his focus to the chase.

The situation proved queerer yet, in time, and Fu’s thoughts of how his position had been reversed but days ago flocked to him.

Ahead, the SIlkworm leader made no sharp turns. He did not weave behind buildings, dispense Qi or [Dao] to harry his pursuers, nor obscure his passage in any form. The man flew across the rooftops- his [Might] or realm of cultivation enough to grant distance, yet unable to fully lose the pair.

He means to spring a trap, surely? This path is but a straight line.

He felt his [Dantian] begin to cry out, and wondered then if their foe was waiting for their Qi to run dry. A simple chase of attrition.

But in a further span of minutes, he simply stopped.

The Silkworm then launched himself from a rooftop no more than one hundred strides distant, and entered a plaza below.

His pursuers reached this in short order, and Fu made to leapt before Zhu’s hand wrenched him back. “Put in your eyes Fu,” he warned.

A [Paifang] blazed two stories below, mundanely hewn in lusterless, red wood. There, the Silkworm’s body faded inside. Zhu’s extended finger, singling him out in a crowd of dozens. “Doesn’t this transcend our duty? I’m no coward. But we are a low-ranking squad, and two, there’s more here that the clouds obscure than do not.”

Fu firmed his jaw. “The price of failure is too high. If a punishment is to be meted out, and it is severe… I would lose more than one life, Zhu.”

“More than one,” he stated, no question in his tone.

“Abandonment shows we have not tried, and as our mission stands we have caused trouble where excellence was expected. Our senior will not take excuses, nor show mercy for the appearance of… that cultivator, the douli-masked woman.” Hushi squeezed calm into him, and Fu took a breath. “I must go, my duty demands the mission fulfilled.”

Zhu pushed him from the rooftop, and joined the forced descent. “Worry brings more conversation than food. I’ll share misery then, shall I? If only to break the monotony of your silence.”

They landed without trouble, drawing a few looks from the cultivators queuing at the gathering’s rear. But these faded quickly, for such a drop was no marvel to a cultivator.

“Push,” instructed Zhu, slipping before a dirtied cultivator. “If he’d strike us upon our first step, I’d make our position harder to guess than last to enter.”

Fu obliged, and set himself beside his companion much to the protest of those around him. A sound cut short as he crossed the threshold.

The timing of this [Mystic Realm’s] opening- is it coincidence?

He met the rear of a cultivator’s head as he emerged, and paused to allow the crowd to part before moving on. With [Summer] present he breathed deep, filling his lungs with a rich and fragrant Qi.

Pleasant.

Hushi took a single taste, and immediately set about absorbing what he could. A trickle, when not in full cultivation, but a sparse meal was better than none.

An arm took his own, roughly, and Zhu pushed him sideways through the crowd until they stood at the [Paifang’s] edge. Both sets of eyes scanned the lush [Mystic Realm] ahead, searching for their Silkworm among violet grasses and magenta bushes. It was an off-putting coloration, if one that lent well to showing the outline of black-clad individuals.

The ground around them swept swiftly down, into gully after gully, as though the [Paifang] were a staircase’s peak and all else descended from it.

“If he means to elude us, then all we’d need to do is wait,” said Zhu. “Unless another entrance exists.”

“His haste here speaks of a plan, does it not?”

Zhu peered down the incline. “The timing is suspect, but a beggar of the Four Corners might know of it if he squalors near the [Paifang]. Local knowledge or a favourable turn by the Heavens. I can’t say.”

Wait, or follow? We have numbers.

“He is in the [Formation Realm],” Fu noted. “And leads...” A cry bounced from the first gully’s face.

The pair moved towards it at a cautious pace, cresting the edge the closest slope. Crouched low, they caught the source.

“Complications,” cursed Zhu, and Fu saw It was invariably so.

Vapour once more appeared ahead. Borne not of the prior woman’s efforts, as the wielder was of a shorter breed. The douli worn, hanfu, [Spirit Cat], and [Art] of a matching sort. A potential disciple, in Fu’s mind, some [Heritage] given the similarities.

This was of middling import given her actions.

Doubtless the cry sounded from her impalement of the SIlkworm. From the fountains of blood that gushed as his body fell in two halves, and the dissipation of specks that marked his Bond’s passing.

Her [Intent] warded off those righteous few cultivators that rushed at her in challenge, enveloping the grasses in vapour. A wafting ring, laced- by Fu’s guess, with a composite of [Dark Qi] or other malefic strength.

But the sudden slaughter was second string, for her spare hand held aloft a bone of ivory sheen. A treasure, as it was revealed, cracking the air itself with a pervasive red. Hairline to fissure, to all-consuming chasms that flashed before any in the [Mystic Realm] might react.

Swarming Fu’s vision with red before a sinister parchment unfurled.