Fatherly Asura

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Four - True Orchid Chasms

A [Trial] of antidotes, of which poison needed to be curated from a jungle of hostile herbs and [Spirit Beasts]. Zhu reaped a realm of [Lunar Qi], and returned with two fingers blackened by frost’s bite.

Those of [Foundation Grade] were yet to be read on. Scores of his disciples, thrown against them - rotated and rested - so that their pillaging of Imperial lands went unceasing.

There came a second realm of [Poison Abundance]. A second realm of [Sun Qi]. Pinxui’s wording had them as , for she above all others knew the talents of the Cloud Gathering division’s members.

Dangers nullified by the [Hundred Immunities Fruit] and Zhu’s [Three Celestial Kite], cycling and fickle as the lattermost was.

Within his brimming vaults, Fu waxed his wisdoms. His musings and sayings. Thus shook, for all had heard of mantises and cicadas.

“Our Wayward Winds must remain focused, despite this haste. To rush is no triumph when the Path ahead is endless,” he shared, approving as Hushi impressed images of a stalking oriole. “These realms are plenty.”

Three days had firmed this notion, for three days had it taken for the first [Mystic Realm] to sever.

And something .

A chilling peculiarity had appeared upon his [Ink]. The pastel teal stain that spread far from chest to arm, now altered where the white of his Clouded Court’s [Boon] was displayed. Some fresh concern best reserved for Zhu’s presence, as he still walked in these aforementioned realms.

Fu looked once at the change upon his physical form, and heaved a great cloud from his now-familiar pipe.

Routine. Administration. Logistics. Training. The Heavens would not give him a chance to grow complacent, and for this he gave his silent thanks.

Hours passed. Fruit blossomed.

Pinxiu’s [Spirit Ants] were a frenzy about her quarters. A storm of scrolls and [Force Qi], to say nothing for their myriad legs.

“None hobble personality, brother,” accused Anfang, dangling from eaves so that she did not interrupt the Scholarly Head’s progress.

Su Sai scowled, retreating a step.

Light flared to bring the [True Orchid Path] into view. A constellation about them, coloured for the Marches represented therein. To Fu, it seemed a lesser comparison to Grandmother Hua’s affectation of [Dao].

Those present made haste to clear the site, and Pinxui’s storm ended centrally. Hands, a-splay, and tongue readied.

“Juniors, share our findings so that no question goes unanswered,” she commanded, driving a dozen disciples to proffer twice as many documents.

Fu’s swollen collection was largest, and vanished at his will. “Disciples Zhu, Udvah and Head Aarushi are absent, Head Wen. I should not ask, but are these documents sufficient to inform them of our progress?”

“You doubt me?” she snapped, to which Anfang barked a laugh. “Ah, senior, that is- Ten thousand apologies. Current affairs overtake my eyes, and- there is no excuse.”

“Peace, Pinxui. Share without restraint,” said Fu.

Action superceded words, for the [Spirit Ants] thrummed motion into the [True Orchid Path]. A shift that brought the current March of Yellow into focus, hemmed only by minor glances into that of Red.

[Sixth Under Heaven’s] domain bore a semblance of roots. Perhaps of bamboo, of which its expansive reach all beneath Heaven were familiar. Orchid was its canopy, and Red its base. Wider there than the vaunted peak where the Emperor of [Spring] held his throne.

Pinxui’s Qi ate the stars.

“Without preamble, the March of Serpents begins. Closure of the initial marker [Imperial Realms] has succeeded with minimal difficulties, as relayed in the reports just offered; note now that the troubles faced are of injury and not of discovery, lying predominantly in the [Foundation Grade] reams that our fledgling disciples tread.”

Characters rose amidst the group, titles for each [Imperial Realm] of note.

The first star, ten leaps into the boundary of orange - vanished. Then a second some forty leaps distant. Reminiscent by Fu’s readings and association, until the third.

[Imperial Realm 10,426], of the coalition’s involvement.

A fourth turned absent, continuing, and only at the twelfth did Pinxiu’s voice rise. “Under such swift circumstances and with sparse history to compare the speed of severance for each independent realm, it should be noted that those with lower ambient Qi and the often aligned, lower [Grade] realms are first to vanish. Over these three days since the March of Serpent’s inception, a total of twenty two [Imperial Realms] have had their [Trials] concluded.”

“This has been stated, and should be committed to memory. The expectation of remaining severances beyond the twelve completed at this moment are illustrated as follows,” she said, and the [True Orchid Path] darkened at her will.

No quilt, the connections were not arrayed as such. Straight lines did not comprise its links, and the minorly ordered connections between each represented realm rarely numbered more than a handful.

Thus the darkening showed . absence. A precursor to what the blind might see should they stare long enough.

Three days could not complete a March. But thirty, or three [Seasons]...

“What predication have you for when this Western coalition finally fails?” asked Sai, scowling at the myriad absences. “Shouldn’t the Wayward Winds guide, it sits poorly that these distant Sects could be associated with our course.”

“It’s of benefit,” shared Anfang.

“That others stir trouble? When their actions bring rain upon them, more scrutiny will be placed upon the [Reliquaries]. A better Sect should be chosen,” he said.

Papers emerged in Anfang’s hand. “Though dry, even I completed the reading. Apologies, Pinxui.”

The scholarly head’s attention was elsewhere, receiving whispers from her nearby juniors.

“Victory comes when an enemy is challenged and you stand unbloodied. To set fires with the Western Bone Cult and Earth Tyrant Hall- gah. I’d have sought the talented. Then, their longevity might be assured.”

Shuidi felt a rare resonance with the man’s words, impressing such to Fu. But for the senior’s part, his fixation was on stars. The [True Orchid Path] did an injustice, so found his finger as it traced the unfathomable links.

“No act can be louder than this,” Fu said. “We cannot mask the severance of an [Imperial Realm], only that which might connect it to us. Do not foster attachment to the Western coalition, Sai, they are simply stones, cast to muddy the waters. The Wayward Winds know well where to find more.”

Sai’s serpent shuddered as he allowed a smile. A dark thing, and content. “Truly? I’d dwelled on the solution that I might induct them. The [Precursor Spirit Beasts] they hold are storied, and their [Resilience] is of interest to me. A boon to the Wayward Winds should their techniques… fall into our possession.”

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“Should they survive until the March of Serpents is complete then we will have won steadfast allies. If not, our own disciples are tasked with the retrieval of their knowledge. So this stands for any that further our interests,” said Fu, moving to clasp one of the illusory stars. “Here, Pinxiu. I have chosen. If you would.”

????

One of Green might have served better, though that was a dangerous depth to tread.

Here, they had stolen through yellow-lined avenues, and by pagodas a-breeze with numerous ribbons of the same hue. Travel between the myriad realms had simmered the passion of novelty where these different locales were concerned, and as such Fu’s wonder fell into a more muted sort of interest.

Chiefly that this was an [Imperial Realm], and no more.

The servers did not ask for ‘nourishment’, nor ‘flavour’, he was served a meal of Yellow. One complete with all the Qi-suppressing ingredients that those of their ilk might enjoy. A poison, and of no trouble to Fu.

Perhaps this is why Zhu looked on with disgust, decanting his own wine as they allowed the world of Imperials to move by.

A fresh band pulsed upon his wrist. The resonance in Qi quite similar to that of his brooch, if unconnected. Fresh equipment that soon his entire Wayward Winds would wear.

“Another,” he said, having Zhu refocus. “The twenty first.”

The thousands in surrounding avenues increased their pace, though neither ghost could hear what order demanded it. This balcony had [Silence Arrays] to block noise both outwith and within, as did Shuidi’s low-slung mist add extra layers of protection.

They watched as the procession of cultivators became a stampede. [Spirit Beasts] in frenzy, and robes like that of a passing sea.

“[Sixth Under Heaven] takes this threat seriously, no?” Fu suggested. “That they fly to the eastern [Paifang] has me wonder which of the bordering [Imperial Realms] they will support first.”

Zhu refilled Tanshuai’s saucer. “A question for scholars. I see no reason to add our own observations when the outcome is obvious. As much as it pains me, let’s not delay.”

Several arms rolled back Fu’s sleeve. The [Ink], exposed. “The [Mantra of Heavenly Plums] blocks your own from sight.”

“It can be read elsewhere.”

A list of characters rolled forth, as it no doubt did for Zhu. Though as ever none there could see the other’s.

[An Elder’s Token] Impertinent child… of Heaven’s secrets… the dye… cast… continue and await the-

Fu repeated.

“Advent of. Skies. Ghosts. Duty within Blue,” came the reply, pausing before the last. “Bingbai.”

“Bingbai.”

“grimaced Zhu.

The bottle smashed within his grasp.

It took much to remain seated.

“Our senior is vexed? That is what this message implies. One within [Ink] and favour. [Of Perennial Shade’s] talent transcends realms.”

“a fool you are, to make light of attempted Zhu, piecing together from blank. “Such transgressions will be weighed upon return, yet, On this course,

All gathered from [Spirit Beast] to cultivator stole a breath.

“A clear logic. Unpoisoned by expectation. [Of Perennial Shade] was among [An Array in One Hand’s] primary concerns. To see how her Path cuts even through [Spring] and the tyranny of this [True Orchid Path] lends her much weight.”

“Allow your plum-rich brother his work. Pessimism and reality lead him well.”

“My ghosts are not to be spoiled. No,” he shook. “This guesswork is a pain. arises the false Empire’s Marches of

Shuidi shook, having Fu’s voice impress her version. “I forbid it, ghosts, for this impedes our duty with the Marches of Blue.”

Zhu retrieved Tanshuai’s saucer, pondering as he emptied it.

“There is no way to make certain of this, and we are not blessed with the full foresight of the Clouded Courts. Guesswork is cheap. Neither can I claim to know the mind of an Elder. Can you, brother?”

“In insults, yes,” Zhu groused.

“Bingbai.”

“Bingbai,” came the repetition.

True ghosts were not true serpents. Ability did not equate to loyalty. Tenure, perhaps, and favour. Experience, duty, honor, calling, temperament. [Dao Oaths].

Those bound a cultivator to their Sect.

The Cloud Gathering division did not mark [Gleeful Viper], [Thrice Clouded Boa] or the [Clouded Serpent Queen] as peerless, not in their allegiance, and not by default.

Ban Bingbai differed.

“If Master Ban is troubled,” began Fu, and Zhu’s swift nod eroded the need for further explanation.

“Blue.”

????

In the hours since their meeting, Fu had eschewed routine. Matters of the [True Orchid Path and his March of Serpents held Aarushi’s attention, and he would not interrupt the restoration of his many ailing disciples for the transcription of another technique.

Another cultivator might have pontificated. Insight into the nature of time, and if truly, it could be free.

To act in one way was to neglect the other.

So on.

Clouds did not hold time in any regard, and so he adopted a generous, if temporary, outlook of his own abilities and acted as they might.

Before long his [Inner Qi] was emptied through countless variations of the [Wind Phantom Strides] and [Three Wisps from Breath]. Testing strikes that attempted to reach an equilibrium with the [Qi Manifestation] he had reached within the Western coalition’s [Trial].

Water trailed from his palm, for this was the egress for his Qi. A fundamental point, as water was not so plentiful in the space about him as air was.

Shuidi disagreed on this point, but expanded no further.

“We cannot have our progress slow. It must become more than rote memorization of motions from these tomes,” he said.

Hushi half-listened, buried within exercises from the [Stifling Stream Revolutions]. Strengthening and [Control]-based manipulations that circulated his eight arms.

With an urge to stroke his whisker, Fu dissipated his [Ink]. “[Prowess] shows that the Heavens mark us only at [False Imitation]. Accurate words, for this describes our talent. But do you recall Mei of the Azure Shoal Sect’s words, Hushi? Stages of progression, akin to the [First Pool] and second. We are unbalanced.”

His bonds shared their understanding. Their [Dao] was lacking, and as such, had his foundations unsteady.

Fu gathered himself into the lotus, and breathed, soothing his mind until the [Conception Vessel] materialized about him and calm shores replaced the interior of his quarters. To draw Qi spread ripples across these waters, but in no lapping wave.

With fitting ceremony, he dispensed a bow to the Old One. A thing returned as the spectral catfish surfaced in interest. “Youngling.”

“Old master,” he clasped, parting ways.

Atop the sands, Fu turned pensive. Among the [Dao] that accompanied his Path he held few reservations.

The [Dao of Wayward Breezes] was central to his concept, for this encompassed the blowing nature of clouds. It need not change, only grow with insight. His [Dao of Pillaged Breath] held a similar pillar in importance. What fear it inflicted and what strength it reaped were akin to blackened skies and the dread fostered at their approach.

Many a raincloud had doomed his work as a fisherman, and in that lay uncertainty.

One could not look at a cloud and judge its strength. Whether droplets descended, or typhoons, this was the potential of a ghost. Myriad uses and myriad forms, carried where the cloud so pleased.

Where the winds willed.

“Then we are the blown specter. The wayward ghost. A thing of depths unknown until they are posed against another.”

Hushi was not in agreement, and impressed his challenge thus - “

“Suddenness. Then we are the cloud, and our actions - the downpour. A rain. A bolt. A casting of darkness that arrives without prior sign.”

The feeling returned, now from Shuidi. ”

“I have been negligent if my brother and sister arrived at insight without my knowledge. But such is the benefit of our bond. Gratitude.”

His Heavens changed, spurred on by the [Spirit Beasts’] will. Their words became manifest, their thoughts, reflected.

Grey skies crawled forth.

[Profundity] gathered.

“None might judge what lies within a cloud,” he pondered. “The first rumble of thunder or nourishing rain. Winds to scatter seeds or the gale to ravish crops. Only… that it is there. A herald of portent. Untouchable. Spectral. An inevitability.”

The concept was grand. Too prodigious for fishermen. Something that once named and given credence by word, could only be a concept to strive for.

It was not their current standing.

“As winds - change. As clouds - inevitability. As one that treads the line between the father and the ghost - duality. So it must be.”

His [Spirit Beasts] stirred, and his Inner Realm blossomed with ten thousand specks of golden hue.

Spheres of this [Profundity] were gathered by Shuidi, held betwixt her pincers. Then arms rose, moulding that which Hushi carried.

A [Dao], given form.

Power already inscribed upon his [Ink], but no fitting piece for their Path. As they had mused and come to know.

Fu set his fingers into the [Dao] and pressure mounted. Weight. Force. Strength. These aspects were of use, but contact pit them against his mental energy. The resilience of his [Spirit] and lesser, his [Mind].

This fresh danger continued as his fingers worked.

At first, they siphoned. Sculpting the latent [Dao] into a shape more desirable. Yet such things had to be unmade first, for none could straighten knotted ropes without first plucking them clean.

Pain spiked through Fu’s temples.

“Does the wind not teach us this, brother, sister? The waters? Are pools not lesser seas, all filled by the same rains? Is a western breeze not the tail of an eastern gust?”

The three reached further into the golden [Dao]. That of [Crushing], massed in [Profundity] and unbearable weight.

Hushi then stalled. “Or so his impression suggested.

Fu released his hold. Hushi did so second, and Shuidi as a reluctant third. The [Dao] remained as it was, a manifestation of [Crushing]. Knotted and used, akin to the worn nets aboard his old vessel.

All there harkened back to the Western coalition’s [Trial].

A scene of scattered sands and piercing droplets. The cascade that followed in the wake of their conjured [Water Qi]. They had glimpsed it then, an insight more suited.

“Gratitude, Shuidi,” her cultivator whispered. “It was by your introduction that we adopted this [Dao]. By your insight, and through your experience. I would have you lead, for this. Take this aspect, and show what you have become.”

Her pincers clasped in affirmation before gingerly touching the mass. A simple gesture to which the [Profundity] responded by swelling.

“A rarity, younglings. That the [Dao] are met in such a way.”

The three partners had set their minds in unison, and as such the Old One’s voice appeared as a distant whisper. Words lost behind incessant drum beats, falling droplets, and vivid recollections of rain.

Pooling.

[Ink] burned.