Fu’s [Teal Supple Physique] allowed such a distribution of weight that his fractured bones were only troubled in extension, and not movement.

Seventeen times had his [Ink] flared thus, and over but three clashes.

Where a singular [Spirit Beast] of [Spring] drew fractions of what his [Hollow Ivory Splinter] required to grow, these invaders, beast and cultivator alike proved a wellspring. As if their skin, hair, breath and blood contained no impurities of any other [Season].

With lacking gravitas, Fu approached the sole survivor of their recent slaughter. Bloodied and haggard was no lofty position from which to begin interrogation, but held no other choice.

The Vajra there bore the same orchid hanfu that marked all within this Empire, if now dishevelled and torn.

Fu presented his fatherly demeanour. “Your blade was true, cultivator. I can only hope that your honour is as such.”

“A [Winter] dog dares lap at my feet,” returned spittle and hatred.

One motion had Zhu crush the man’s hand, mangling it beyond recognition.

Drawing from his spatial ring, Fu absorbed the Loosened Tongue Solution’s vial through a droplet splashed upon his fingertip. No more than this was needed for the [Hundred Poisons Synthesis] to allow replication.

“Please,” he said, placing a hand on the man’s bare shoulder. “I would not choose to harm you further. All we seek is to know how we might remedy this slight? No doubt we have offended your venerable Empire. A thousand apologies.”

The [Poison Qi] moved as a stain upon the man’s flesh.

“Offended? You dogs of ill-[Season] are unworthy to even bask in our presence and now you seek to twist my tongue!” the man spat once more, having it land within the turgid mess of [Spirit Beast] viscera upon Fu’s robes.

Now Linhua moved, and her sabre drew ever closer to the man’s Bond. A [Spirit Crane] whose wings were already severed.

If the threat of all this did not stir the man’s blood to boil, few things could activate the poison’s effect quicker.

“Truly we are lacking,” agreed Fu. “That we know not even the name of the Empire we should rightfully venerate. Nor its scions, its matriarchs or emperors.” He bowed then in supplication, and saw the dilation of pupils he so sought.

Dreamlike words followed, as if the man had bathed in spirit wine and could not focus upon anything but the questions Fu asked. “Our Empire of Abundant Spring. Yes, yes. Venerate us, for you ignorant apes cannot fathom our splendour.”

“Such a name inspires wonder. Gratitude, master cultivator. But this ignorant fool would know more so he might worship all aspects. Why is it now that you come to educate us lowly ones?”

A drunken laugh followed. “Because our unparalleled Emperor decrees it so! He is [Spring] itself, and no stage is more fitting than this [Spring Equinox]. Emperor [Sixth Under Heaven] already stains himself by offering his grace in this tarnished land.”

Fu looked to the existence mentioned.

One of Heaven, for no other could bring such a scene to bear. His Bond was unlike any Fu might fathom, for in place of fangs and wings, he saw pristine stalk and stem.

A radiant, orchid-hued [Spirit Bamboo].

My words are few, as [Gleeful Viper]’s four disasters are titans already. What term could be used to describe a thing so large it has them appear as common serpents?

Truly fitting of a Vajra so close to the Heavens.

“We would aid in whatever way we might. As you are our better, we would be honoured to support the tasks you have been ordered with. If only we could know them.”

The Imperial nodded drowsily. “Indeed, indeed. We have only to sow discord and spread far from the Four Shaded Spear. Push, that is your solitary role. Perhaps there will be leniency in the enslavement to follow.”

Fu bowed once more, and Linhua decapitated the [Spirit Crane] as his own blade plunged into the man’s throat.

“[Sixth Under Heaven]. Amituofo. This penniless seeker holds [Fourth Under Heaven] in immeasurable regard, one pillar of our Clear Sky Empire. What trouble the sixth brings,” Udvah barely gestured to the surrounding devastation. “Examples are not needed, no?”

Zhao Po had grown pallid, whether through injury or otherwise. “Immortals do not move rashly.”

“Just so,” agreed Fu. “Let us hope that this [Sixth Under Heaven] holds only false confidence. While I cannot see within the chaos above, I have faith that our own Elders have yet to arrive. Until then, we must do what we can.

🀦

An hour proved the Four Corners Prefecture unrecognisable. The [Spring Equinox] tournament was hosted in their domain, the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s quarter of [Summer]. Yet the where was unknown.

What proximity to the Clouded Courts, or the sun-facing branch, could not be proven.

Only ruins remained.

With mounting injuries and depleting Qi, combat became a rarity. The Cloud Gathering Division stalked, winding about remnant building husks and corpse-strewn avenues. And between these crumpled pagodas and sights of butchery, they found no respite from the toll of [Spring] upon them.

Fu thought himself no profound hunter, passing without trace. But in short order, he felt the attention of such a spectacle.

Deeper into the passing wave of [Spirit Beasts] and cultivators, the realms of each had waned. [Core Formation] experts of middle, or late, with sparse sightings of their true targets at early or below.

He searched for the storm’s eye, wherein calmer winds held back the peripheral violence of vanguard cultivators and true experts around the Four Shaded Spear.

But his [Senses] nagged.

More so Zhu, of profoundly greater strength in this regard, was irate. “My [Divine Sense] speaks of three at our heels. We’ve no time for this.”

“Our choice is limited,” puffed Fu, conversing mid-leap.

Hushi. Shuidi. Might you find them?

Neither Bond declared a speck.

“Prayer beads, Hushi,” warned Zhu. “Sound, not Qi.”

My own growth in [Pull] is remarkable. His [Hollow Ivory Splinter] is of [Senses]. This is no small wonder.

Every heart knew ice then.

The true duality of twins.

All within the Cloud Gathering division thundered into the strewn debris, and writhed beneath an [Intent] so vast that the sun’s luminance shrivelled by some small sliver.

Pain.

Terror.

Within Fu wisped a conjuration. A blackness that he might never recover from. He saw three bundles there, and felt an abyss before them. Snows fell in a hue of purple and black, unnatural and frigid.

How might I do this?

The bundles cawed.

He could offer them nothing.

Cruelty had taken the wrong parent.

Would he nurse them with fish? Could lake water sustain them until the markets opened? The waters were thin and his last haul could pay for but two cups full of milk, not three as was needed.

[Thrice Clouded Bao] ascended to war aside her twin, and her [Spirit Serpents] tore great gashes into the bamboo’s solitary trunk. A further three monsters, and the fourth that shared no heritage but vague appearance.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Distant in Fu’s eyes, for whatever manner of horror now choked his veins and had his heart percuss still gripped him.

They are grown and they yet flourish.

Debris gathered beneath his fingernails as he scraped himself higher.

But this will not continue if I am to lie here as a fool might. There is no concern but theirs.

For a moment there, a lucidity returned and the Heavens stole his eyes. Seven [Spirit Serpents], and one [Spirit Eel].

Immortals all.

Fu tried to rouse his companions from dread, shaking all with gentle words. Their complexions were pale, and near sallow with worry. As if they had weathered ten-thousand nightmares across ten-thousand moons.

None but Linhua stirred.

Hers was still an expression of contorted pain. “The tower did not open, father. Was I so…”

“Peace, sister. Peace,” he returned.

Hushi impressed severity at an approaching presence. Their stalkers were closing, though the prefecture’s myriad clashes dampened what Fu might hear himself.

“Bury them.”

Linhua flinched at the order.

That is a mortal’s way of thinking. Fool.

The terror inflicted by [Thrice Clouded Boa’s] [Intent] had each [Core] and [Dantian] fluctuate, shedding the [Clouded Ghost Arts]. Each there were beacons of Qi. Not least Zhu’s mention of [Divine Sense].

These pursuers might hold [Constellation Seeds], and with such treasures, a means of detecting those who held the same.

“Maintain your [Art]. I will lead them astray.”

So saying, Fu took to what heights he could find. Sloped shells where pristine rooftops had once arched, now little more than ashen roosts for what [Spirit Birds] might dare return.

He held a second [Winter Rejuvenation Pill] within his ring, and reserves of poison with which to replenish his [Inner Qi]. To use another now would yield diminishing returns, or inflict a greater toll on his [Channels].

Pill [Impurities] were a thing no disciple of the Cloudy Serpent Sect had to fear. This much was clear. Though another thought rose in conflict.

Can I shoulder the potential injuries? This slaughter has just begun.

Fu cursed loudly, and swallowed the second pill.

An increase to his [Pull] through the [Hollow Ivory Splinter] had made this process ungaugable. Seventeen recently, and nine before? The surrounding madness had muddied much. All Fu could measure was this fresh volume of Qi.

Higher attributes upon his [Ink] had offset the toll of taking this secondary pill. His [Channels] had adapted, welcoming this gift instead of merely withstanding it.

A cloud does not fall. It takes no pause nor rest.

He saw well what that Empire of Abundant Spring might now offer.

The opportunity.

Fu flexed his fingers, the bones near-healed by the abundance of QI circulating his [Channels], and rid himself of the [Clouded Ghost Arts].

Eight silhouettes emerged on the opposing heights, a similarly shattered paifang, if mortal and no means of swift escape.

“This shoot of grass spies a bold one,” called the first.

“This shoot of grass confirms it,” called the second.

The third remained silent, and Fu pondered if she held seniority over these two. Her orchid robes were patterned in grassy fields, and bore two tiers upon her fabrics where the others held but one at the hem.

Early, and two Middle.

He masked the quake of his heart when three [Constellation Seeds] were revealed.

“The Empire of Abundant Spring is honourable, no? Yet they send three against one?” he said, and probed further. “Amituofo. The [Two that do not Seek] would be shamed.”

Histories of the Vajra were no strong point of his, and indeed, it was long since he had delved into the origin of any. But if a connection stood, he might exploit it.

“Oh, the snow-kissed thinks himself wise. This shoot of grass had heard tale of this, for how could our venerable Empire’s exploits not be famed. Even in these [Spring]-starved lands,” the second said, and twirled a mighty war scythe about herself. “Truth does not come for blind monkeys. All you know of seeking is pompous and shallow.”

“Does the snow-kissed profess to be a sage?” teased the first. “Next the fool will state that water is wet.”

[Spirit Beasts] emerged to their rear, no longer obscured in a shadow-dripped [Art].

Two mighty deer, ivy-laden and flower rich. As was the heritage for this Empire. Abundant with growth. Second came a leaf-feathered hawk and its lizard partner, its scales of bark and its forked tongue, a vine.

“All might know the [Dao],” jabbed Fu. All the while his eyes stayed far from the crumpled Cloud Gathering division. “To speak otherwise shows how far you must go.”

The third took amusement from this, and her sap-coated [Spirit Ape] hollered in time with her laughter. “The Heavens deliver a stooge. Name yourself, snow-kissed, that we might conduct properly. This taller blade does not smile often.”

“Fu Gao,” he said, dipping his douli.

“Offer your insight, Fu Gao,” she said. “If the [Dao] are a thing you claim to know.”

Hushi proved mirthful then, and such a feeling could not be suppressed by Shuidi’s growing confusion. Her uncertainty was clear, and rational. Indeed, the octopus seemed injected by chicken blood so energetic as he was.

That is a stretch, brother.

The same impression was delivered.

“If only so we might reach an accord beneath these shared Heavens,” he bowed, and thus searched.

Moments passed.

Short breaths that were punctuated by swift outrage.

“Taller blade,” interrupted the first. “This shoot of grass can find no merit in this.”

It was an oddity.

A fable that Fu had not questioned for fear of losing.

“Fu Gao is your equal, little shoot. Three sacred treasures. A cultivation of nigh identical merit. There are Heavens beyond Heavens, always, yet he serves as a minimum. This taller blade would not lose lives needlessly.”

Wisdom could not exist in his [Core]. Fu could not scrape it as if a cockle upon rock.

Ten heartbeats and the first had lowered her weapon.

The [Dao of Wayward Breezes] was upon the cusp of his tongue.

“Forgiveness, taller blade, but this shoot of grass shares her sister’s views. Why must it be this man who bears no mark of our heritage? Myriad more stand in our stables ready to be queried.”

Fu plucked [Profundity] from the abyss, for the complaint of a young girl and the counter was a thing well known to him. Vibrations forced his voice to gently shake the air, for wisdom was never gleaned in a shout.

It need only be heard clearly.

“It is the miserly man that still wonts for yesterday’s broth, proclaiming it better than the next with nary a taste of an offered spoon. Amituofo. One thing cannot be all things if none know what else lies beyond.”

A profound wave of gold lapped across the the intervening distance.

The shoots of grass and their [Spirit Beasts] could not bear it. An [Epiphany] was upon them, collapsing their feet beneath a mask of married anguish and rapture.

Pained disbelief, perhaps.

It mattered little as the taller blade laid her juniors comfortably where they fell. Lifting limbs so they might fold into the lotus position.

“This taller blade extends her gratitude, snow-kissed. That such an unparalleled gift must be met with death- It is acceptable that this taller blade’s [Karma] is soured, a welcome burden. What honour exists between us now, duty to the Empire comes first,” she said, and fell gracefully to the street. “Already is a debt owed, but Fu Gao is honourable. You would leave the young unharmed?”

Fu dipped his douli. “It is sworn on all of Fu Gao’s honour.”

[Half Cloud Step]. [Dao of Wayward Breezes].

In a blur he was upon the two cultivators, streaming between the throats of each tranquil [Spirit Beast]. Only the [Spirit Stags] held resistance enough to trouble the blade’s passage, but [Might] and swiftness aligned to spill what was needed.

Four movements that had his [Ink] burn with fresh acquisition.

The very moment his blade had left the final [Spirit Beast], he suffused himself with [Spectral Qi], turning immaterial.

While her name was unknown, this foe’s [Might] far outstripped his. A simple truth, for a shallow cut had penetrated his back not a second before his [Art] had taken hold.

A clash in instants, one that was reserved for experts and not he.

It was a boon that her sap-dripping [Spirit Ape] appeared sluggish, or held some other machination that had it dance upon the clash’s edge.

“Treachery. This is the minimum then. Clear as morning dew,” she cut.

Talk mid-flight was an errand for fools, thus Fu only dodged. His chain was at the base of those crippled Imperials’ forms, not blessed by the transformation of [Spectral Qi]. And the distance was only growing.

His foe held no such impairment, and bore a pristine zhanmadao. Amber glistened on the two-handed hilt.

Fu knew this as it was all he could track of the weapon, so fleet were her strikes.

Despite his desire not to hasten his death, he allowed his [Intent] to pour forth. Refined, in half part, as the [Four Directions Tribulation Array] had instructed.

The woman grimaced to enter its range, taking seconds to recover.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

He emerged from the wind to ready his chain, and braced as her zhanmadao intercepted the taught links between each fist. The strain was beyond belief, impressing deep grooves into his palms and knuckles.

A series of his kicks met open air.

Slashes, the same.

Each motion from the [Wind Phantom Strides] fell short in sequence.

Here was an expert with many moons seniority. Gracefully, she blocked his coming strikes, the lashes as he distanced, the serpentine snaps of irregular angles that [Control] afforded. All was fruitless.

As the [Spirit Ape’s] role finally blossomed, it loosed a cacophonous howl the match of any grand horn.

Manifestations of Qi rose at its side, bringing such weight that the low perch upon which it squatted collapsed. Dust flew across their battlefield, obscuring sight for mere seconds until the intensity of clashing weapons blew it aside.

Fu saw a glimmer.

A glint of ape-like limbs that loped around him to dash any hopes of escape. The [Spirit Beast] had multiplied, and he could spare no breath to count them.

[Dao of Crushing].

Golden light emblazoned his chain as he whipped back to ensnare her weapon. The mundane links ravelled, cloying the long, bladed length so that his own manifestation might shatter all within.

She toys with me. As a tiger might its food.

“This taller blade grows suspicious, black-hearted, snow-kissed Fu Gao,” and to accompany those words there came an absence.

An unmaking of his [Dao].

The gold within his chain all but vanished, and this effort prompted a surging backlash as his mental expenditure was violently returned.

“The insight offered does not match so pitiful a display. The Empire of Abundant Spring holds few hidden masters or talents unknown.” she continued. “It is clear that you would fit neither title. Who are you, to possess such profundity yet so little experience?”

“Must you continue this? It brings no end of complications,” sounded an exacerbated sigh. “It’s quite obvious. He’s the villainous Fu Gao.”

It was then that Tanshaui fluttered forth, and the villain masked his sigh of relief.