-to which are pertinent.

[Force Qi] naturally contained the most unaligned element to successfully refine materials within alchemy, yet to be bereft of this is no failure.

The Heavens are vast, and no one path stands most righteous.

Of note is [Fire Qi] and its allegiant cousins of heat, and ice. All necessary in the maintenance of temperature during the refinement process, of which a more profound flame oft produces immensely differing products were one to rely solely on the mechanisms inherent to any particular furnace or cauldron.

The standard [Qi Manipulation] techniques that a modest amount of cultivators are bequeathed on the path of [Mind] are, however, of paramount use.

Those who are reliant on [Inner Qi] as the medium for their refinement, such as [Body] or [Spirit] cultivators - as it pertains to [Foundation Realm] or early stage [Core Formation] cultivators, are unlikely to produce even the most base of elixirs.

Thus we will state from our collated experience that any should refrain from attempts on the great path of alchemy until such a time as their external Qi control is of adequate, or indeed, peak [Initiate] levels.

Failure to properly control one’s process will always result in solutive disasters that far exceed the devastation that even mundane materials might be able to independently create.

* “Twenty Eight Figurations, a Bastardisation” - Scribes of the Cherry River Alchemist

“A byproduct of your experiences,” Zhu finally arrived, in full earshot of the wisened master. “A mortal life violently inducted into circumstances that continually pit you under cultivators and seniors of incredible disparity. You’d have been best to travel as a wandering cultivator, there you’d find not all you come across wish to betray or kill you.”

The contribution exchange held three spatial trinkets upon its counter, with the fourth held beneath an inspecting gaze.

Fu had braced, both in expectation of their opening and for the retaliation that would come as swift as thunder. For Zhu to speak so openly, and with such an implication of the Cloudy Serpent Sect and its traditions…

He took a step back, fearing the Heavens wrath might be delivered at the hand of this Senior.

“Junior, I am fond of the disciple’s propriety. Do not dissuade him from it,” he said, an eye behind the ring’s neck. “If diligence is observed disciple Gao need fear not, though the same cannot be said for impetuous youths such as you!”

“This junior gives his lacking apologies for his fellow’s insults,” bowed Fu.

The senior looked… fondly at both, quite the change from Fu’s recollection. “I see the Elder’s favour has not made you lenient. Good.”

The clouds recede.

Then, with returned thunder, the man poured the first ring’s contents into the air. A shattering of fragments blew forth, and curiously, the dust and detritus poured only atop Zhu before revealing the suspended contents above.

By Fu’s lacking count, one hundred pills lined the air, organised in rows between several tomes and lesser artefacts. A radiation of Qi escaped the ‘supplies’, if mortal terms could be applied, for linens, bowls, and equipment of various sizes appeared.

“Your senior is curious,” the man said flatly.

“A [Mystic Realm], senior,” bowed Fu. “During this junior’s personal time.”

Each wrinkle upon the man’s brow sharpened. “Multiple treatises on strategy, formation and a [Cultivation Manual] aligned to [Mind Qi]. Among other insignificant trinkets. If that plum-eyed fool had delivered this, I would question its origin. Four yet pulls much into question.”

Fu only lowered further.

“The Clouded Court Squads do not seek glory. Or is your [Dao Oath] forgotten?”

“This junior merely wished to test his own cultivation so he might not embarrass the Sect,” replied Fu.

“My wall remains thick with contracts,” came the reply. But here the crotchety man delivered a disinterested hum. “You, the Zhu boy. Do not lead him further astray.”

Zhu clasped his hands, dust spilling from his hair. “As you say, senior.”

“The usual tithe is levied. State how you wish your Points,” the man continued. “The disciple’s standard agreement was previously all. Yet, with present company, and the stench of spirit wine thick, it gives me cause to wonder.”

“This junior wishes only for the Contribution Points,” said Fu, and in a moment the donations vanished to bring about a great unsteadiness in his legs.

As though he were a youth, standing atop a deck for the first time.

With the [Autumn] sun beginning its ascent above, the Contribution Exchange was no empty place. A mere clutch perhaps, but all turned to see the leak in his [Clouded Ghost Arts]. A scoff, or snicker sounded.

Distant and unimportant.

“...of some import!” sounded the snap that drew him to lucidity. “That [Foundation Realm] bauble aroused my curiosity, do not forget yourself. My aides will attend to the rest, when their duties allow it.”

On the periphery of his bleary vision, Zhu may have bowed. Steps followed in which he was mostly pushed to one side. “I can’t feign understanding,” he said. “But I’m gladdened family can provide you such joy.”

“One of five,” Fu said. “Who. I cannot say. But one is free.”

Zhu grew serious in knowing. “An affirmation of your path, then, and a congratulations.”

“Gratitude, brother. But indulgence must wait,” he said, and set his eyes upon the burgeoning wall of contracts.

🀨

Niwai and Linhua took up opposing corners of their quarters, intent on their own activities.

The former maintained a slow stance with her blades, proceeding down a set of motions that the [Old One’s Whisker] once more addressed as the [Severed Mountain Strokes].

Instinct impressed that her transitions lacked a certain… rightness, at the expense of Fu’s mental energy. Which conjured more questions of the catfish’s understanding. A subject Zhu had been unwilling to broach the previous night.

He gave a customary nod before advancing into his own chamber, withdrawing the key he had been gifted. Void of possessions save for a sleeping mat and table, he saw no resources. It fostered a twitch of his finger, but he refrained from touching the callous there.

Hushi.

The octopus slung down, similarly bemused.

If not here, then where might such resources be held?

A return to the Contribution Exchange could be made, but he sensed the others gathering beyond his screen in anticipation. It was more deference than Quan Ding had commanded, if nothing else.

Ah.

So it was that Fu moved by his squad to enter Quan Ding’s room, and discovered it larger than his previous by some strides. A vestibule, with two branches. The screen to his front, and a low hall with open space. Dim lanterns stood atop poles there, enshrining a hatch where he mused this key might fit.

It opened much like a screen, and showed a wealth of items within.

“Quan Ding was a devious one, no, Hushi?” he whispered, and at this he sensed the two women approach.

[Winter Rejuvenation Pill]

To maintain composure, he did not smile as his latest [Constellation Seed] listed the various materials. One hundred and twenty pills ranged there, all of midnight hue, if not different in iridescence. [Summer] and [Autumn], in half, with the others aligned to [Winter] as he had read.

“Sister Nuwai, Sister Linhua, do you possess spatial rings?” he asked, receiving two negatives in varying tones. “Who among you is [Summer], and who is [Autumn]?”

Niwai replied first. “[Summer].”

Linhua followed with “[Autumn].”

“These are rejuvenation pills, intended for the replenishment of [Inner Qi]. Zhu and I shall hold a stock of these in our storage,” he explained as fast as the thoughts would form. Fu’s ring swallowed two of each, musing that this was as many days as remained in the [Season]. “The other items I shall place in your quarters.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“This Yin Linhua offers gratitude.”

“Pills of the Cloudy Serpent Sect,” mused Niwai.

Fu combed over the fabrics of their uniforms, well stocked within the hatch. Beyond these rested base accessories, mundane to the eye but of an assumedly high quality. Belts, pouches, a series of veils and masks, and a stack of douli to match his own.

Who would place these here?

With a feel that his silence might speak to a lack of diligence, he made to turn.

However, Zhu had emerged to exchange two sleeves of parchment with the pair. “The next contract you choose to take will be that: a choice. In the interim, I’ve wagered that these will do,” he said, and waited. “Ah. You’ve to go and read. Was this not clear?”

When they heard the sound of shutting screens, Zhu moved to peruse the stock with some interest, filtering through vials that Fu’s [Hundred Immunities Fruit] pricked in interest at. The hatch was a trove to match any minor [Reliquary], and his arms were soon laden with a fair amount of items.

“Foundational tomes on martial techniques,” he said. “Hand to hand. [Yin Equilibrium Stances], it reads. You may not know it, but Sects often hold these basic tomes for further techniques to be based upon. The [White Asp Arts] most likely.”

“Linhua would benefit,” said Fu, taking one of three remaining tomes. “Would you consider learning it?”

Zhu looked to be affronted. “The answer is the same that you’d give. My martial path is already chosen. Three styles are enough, and providence afforded me the beginner primers for each. No. It’s only the sequential sets of my tomes I’ll study now. As with your [Wind Phantom Strides] and other manual.”

“Three? This is a gap in my knowledge,” he offered.

“Another? Ah. It’s merely a number. Three is suitable for me, any more would spoil my Qi impartment where attributes are concerned, and forge [Channels] in ways detrimental to my path. A form of [Qi Deviation]. As if you’d chosen a style not reliant on speed through [Might].”

Fu nodded in appreciation. “It is as I thought. Gratitude, Zhu.”

I had not considered adopting another style. Yet this is a thought for another day.

He organised three bundles of the items within, withdrawing only as much as was needed. Therein lay a subtle knife, a mask, another set of Clouded Court’s robes, and a solitary clasp. The lattermost was peculiar, but within a spread of four he assumed it to be of vital fashion and that each member should hold one.

The poisons he would inspect when all else had left were absent.

WIth his own items disappeared into his ring, he delivered both bundles to the newest disciples, rapping curtly upon the doorframe for both. Nuwai gave her own no more than a passing look of interest, but trailed him into the main quarters.

“A contract for common street thugs. Aren’t we beyond this?” she protested.

“You are beyond only what the Sect deems you to be, sister Niwai,” Fu replied. “It is our duty to clear the Contribution Board as much as it is to perform the tasks set out by our Squad Leader.”

Niwai’s hand came to rest atop her hip, “With no schedule, when might we find time for such duties?”

“Sister Linhua,” summoned Fu.

“This Yin Linhua arrives to hear the sub-leader’s words.” Her ashen [Spirit Serpent] poured from her robes, and approximated its own bow as she spoke.

“Gratitude,” he said, garnering surprise from all. “If you believe that you are adequately settled, then our schedule begins now. Late in the morning, as it is. Martial training, sparring, personal time, and squad training. All to be followed by a nightly contract.”

“Personal time?” asked Niwai. “My previous sect did not allow for this.”

Previous sect. It brings questions on her arrival here, if she was already established.

“Personal time,” confirmed Fu. “The shortest of segments, but unchallenged lest it is abused. I trust this is agreeable?”

The Vajra was quick to dispense a nod.

Fu drew the [Yin Equilibrium Stances] from his ring, and handed it to Linhua. “Then let us begin.”

🀨

The Four Shaded Spear’s inscriptions burned with an intensity of gold, bathing some several hundred li in its wash. Such light polluted the facades of entire avenues, putting the western front in vivid illumination.

Yet a certain intensity was drowned out by the steeples, pagodas and sweeping arches above the Four Corners Prefecture’s underbelly. For there the shadows stretched long, trapped between opposing structures. In alleys and side-streets where a canopy of weathered signs, unlit lanterns and washing lines then hung.

Fu held a finger’s breadth of his sole upon one such line. [Control] and his [Teal Supple Physique] well adjusted for such a feat. It draped some forty paces high to provide a fitting vantage for his observation.

Three steps had him cross lower, putting Linhua directly below.

Her slender palms struck thrice, and did little more than have the thug there stumble into the adjacent barrels. Beneath the cladding of her [Art] the altercation produced no sound, neither from man nor [Spirit Beast].

But he noted the limit of her ability as [Earth Qi] tore from the street. A pelting of brittle clumps that flew gracelessly into her frame.

Fu sensed its signature: grimacing as the suppressing [Affinity] rose with a feel to taint his own [Air Qi], but nonetheless marked that only her [Sound Qi] remained undetected.

The pair clashed in awkward form. Her foe swept with pugilistic blows, more in line with vagrants and dockworkers than the grace of a sect disciple. Though Linhua’s own was truly lacking, as if a monkey made mockery of the Clouded Court’s teachings.

Each misstep put her in peril, arriving blows to her body that only her cultivation blocked.

The [Old One’s Whisker] had to be suppressed to preserve his mental energy against this sea of faults.

The toll of maintaining this technique while fighting is clear. But she also shies away from delivering crucial blows. Her [Spirit Serpent] is likely all that had her succeed in the initiation.

Of the myriad junctions throughout these alleys, Fu placed his attention on the furthest ahead. What the locals had named the Butcher’s Road. Three major routes that converged at the mouth of a tall, dilapidated structure.

A base of sorts for the gangs that plagued this far reach of the Clouded Serpent Sect’s domain.

With a distance of some several hundred paces between the fray and it, Fu was impressed that many of these thugs had turned alert. Mundane [Spirit Beasts] emerged from surrounding doorframes, their cultivators but a step behind.

[Spirit Rats], hounds, and other mortal-bordering creatures that had gained a trickle of [Spirituality]. Their gestalt: that of smeared dirt and crooked stance, a true reflection of the thugs in their wake.

They approach only in Linhua’s direction. Zhu and Niwai have maintained their silence then.

He put a searching glance to the east, to his distant, hidden colleagues, and summoned a [Half Cloud Step] to dance through the alley’s canopy.

His count made thirteen cultivators, low to high, with half this number perched in the surrounding balconies for observation. Fu’s landing was a glance, betrayed only by the intensity of gold at his back. For ahead he saw a cast silhouette, which his mark below peered ever closer for.

A douli-laden spectre, painted across the alley to creep upon the adjacent rooftop.

The cultivator below craned further from his balcony, meeting a slung chain that snapped taught around his throat. Another snap loosed, leading Fu to dart within the opening as the lifeless body fell.

Hushi firmed as the [Hollow Ivory Splinter] reacted, a quantity filled by the slaying of this thug. But neither succumbed to the draw, and instead split to make short work of the rest.

A slitting blade. An ensnarement of eight arms. Two hearts punctured from the rear. Hushi tore a [Spirit Rat] in twain. A strangulation. Three [Spirit Hounds] that suffered the same fate.

And only here did the untrained [Foundation Realm] vagrants take note, heedless of the dissipating flecks of [Spirit Beasts] to their rear.

But this was a late thing. Mantises stalking the cicada that was Linhua, her bout successfully ended. All while unaware of the oriole behind.

Fu’s knee blurred into the leftmost’s upper back, and his blade plunged two hands higher to wetly pierce her skull.

[Half Cloud Step].

The body dropped before the second could even fathom the change. Indeed, a [Spirit Owl] might better have fit this thug, for his head was sent to no small swivel between Linhua and the darkening alley behind.

From a slightly braying line above, Fu spectated Linhua’s approach.

Bloodied, she closed the distance with swaying steps. Her presence loud for some few seconds until the thug let loose a cry in time with his [Spirit Hound]. A penetrating bark that was swallowed under the weight of Linhua’s silencing [Sound Qi].

Her foe lunged forth with a meagre studded club as the [Spirit Hound] darted to her flank, and the hesitation this split in focus brought about spelled her ruin. A mighty smash sent her toppling over, dispelling the area as she fell.

Having her whimper all the louder for it.

Hushi.

Partner and cultivator descended swiftly, ensnaring beast and man alike. “Wha-” came, and fled, for Fu’s blade edged upon his neck. Leaving a whimper of its own.

“This one should be ended by your hand,” Fu said.

Linhua sobbed to her feet, unable to meet his eyes. “This Yin-”

She unmakes herself. Yet her [Clouded Ghost Arts] remain true. Does this reflect her talent? A leader might know.

Fu spilled the man’s blood. “Ghosts hold no names. Perhaps you should remember this.”

Darkness would not hide the inadequacy for any who looked upon Linhua then. Tear-soaked and blood-stained.

A weak glue to hold the youth from breaking.

“I-” was all that she could manage.

“There is merit in observation,” said Fu. “Cling to the shadows, and remain hidden as I know you can. A single pillar cannot hold a house. Nor does it ours.”

Linhua bowed low, despite her injuries.

The main structure of Butcher’s Road was a fortress of no less than fifteen floors. To scout the entrance; the sweeping staircases, landings, quarters and functions rooms had this clear. A garrison of one hundred cultivators stalked there, raucous and foul, if dangerous by sheer numbers alone. These were spied through the glaring weaknesses of walls in disrepair, or foundational cracks.

All as Fu ascended the outer facade, entering as his vocation had taught.

There, on the building’s highest tiles, Zhu and Niwai awaited. A glance and nothing more spoke volumes where Linhua was concerned, and was punctuated only by a gesture to the gap in the roof beside.

Commonality was a fool’s belief, but most powers beneath the Heavens took their quarters as high as any might go. The leader, senior, or otherwise titled cultivator that led these thugs proved no different.

Zhu merely had to flick his eyes for Niwai to pounce.

Her [Prowess] was undeniable, and marked as the two senior ghosts dropped into the room below. As if she were a winged predator, Niwai descended in a single strike, showing but the aftermath of a vicious cut.

Their mark sat fixed at a contextually fine desk, a wealth of scrolls having taken his fascination. But these became stained articles in seconds, prefaced by the dull thud of his head striking soft papyrus.

An expansion of [Senses] spoke of the room’s security, and the middling cultivators on floors below whose lacking [Dantian] scarcely lit a signature to find.

For this distance, Fu softly spoke. “A swift strike.”

Yet Niwai took this poorly. “A wasted strike.”

“How so?” Fu asked, and moved to better glean her meaning. While grim, Niwai turned the man’s head in response.

Charred, emptied sockets stared back. A blackness around each edge that took such focus Fu did not immediately see what Niwai had moved to hand him.

Parchment that Zhu intercepted. “Niwai, the contract isn’t complete until all are ended.”

“You’d ask this to conceal the contents.”

“Yes,” said Zhu. “Why else?”

After a moment of deliberation, Niwai stalked off.

“I am not so slow at reading that you need preserve my dignity,” said Fu, and moved close to inspect the parchment.

To inspect the characters there that turned his blood cold.

“Vengeance comes. Zhu. Gao Fu,” he read aloud, and then rounded upon the corpse as if it might return from the Great Cycle to deliver the contents in full.

The charred cadaver bore a single other distinguishing mark. A single puncture where a blade had thrust clean through. One that the [Old One’s Whisker] nigh put him comatose to field an inspection of.

“A sabre did this,” he managed before Zhu wrenched his gaze from the wound. “And together we hold only a few enemies that are marked by such a weapon. Do we not?”