“The standard slips, and brings such shame upon these Clouded Court Squads that you cannot fathom. A worm you remain, junior,” sounded the Squad Leader’s admonishment. “Half of the [Season] to advance in [Realm]. The detriment to your fellow disciples, bah - our tenets do not exemplify this self-serving behaviour.”

The vestibule of their squad’s quarters held four cultivators before this man, and the bows held there were discrepant. Central, those of the Elder’s favour were again at odds, albeit with less reverence than their newfound members.

Fu observed beneath a fresh douli, bemused that his body had only lowered to this degree. To move would invite undue attention however, and thus he maintained such questionable disrespect.

“Show your gratitude to the Heavens, disciples, that I deign to continue this formation. Merit by way of a completed trial holds severance at bay. But know this, when in need of ghosts one must only create a corpse.” A pacing began, if silent for their Senior’s vocation. “Bah. Enough time is squandered on this. Junior Gao remain.”

It was a half-moment later that Zhu retreated, parsing the Squad Leader’s intentions. So too did the initiates move, leaving the quarters much emptier.

The Squad Leader affixed such a look that Fu recalled Feng’s first attempts at making tea. Some twist between disdain and obligation - of which he also recalled Grandmother Hua had responded with the former.

We have had so little contact with this Senior that I have no bearing of his personality. Haughty. Yet this is a look confused by it.

The man ahead finally settled on predatory, and curled his nose befores speaking. “Report on the Silver Loom, junior.”

“Our mission within the auction house took unforeseen twists, Squad Leader,” delivered Fu. “Efforts to track the Silkworm Hall disciples were successful, despite the intervention of other parties. This junior would not dare guess at the motivations, nor provide conjecture.”

“Beyond this,” came the reply.

Fu tucked his head lower. “One involved opened a [Mystic Realm] to enact some unknown scheme, it was here that disciple Zhu and I became trapped.”

“This purposeful obfuscation does you no favours, junior.” [Intent] leaked forth in smoke-white wisps, punctuating further words with uncomfortable heat. “What benefactor do you hold to emerge from failure with the Elder’s mark?”

“Benefactor, senior?”

“Do not play obtuse. A thousand eyes stare from the Silver Loom, and a thousand more share whispers of acts within a [Mystic Realm] - entwined with a hero from the sun-facing Sect. One Yifei, lauded amongst Cloudy Serpents. Politicking holds no place within my squad, and you will reveal such allegiances before it emperils all. Are my words heard, junior?”

Instinct had Fu’s skin prickle. “This junior’s humble history is an open scroll, should the Squad Leader wish it.”

“Do not shame the Clouded Courts with blatancy. Your mortal blood is enough stain upon its glory.”

“No benefactor is known to me, Squad Leader,” returned Fu. “This junior submitted only to the superior judgement of Elder [Of Perennial Shade].”

Conflict rippled through the man’s sneer. “Undeserving. But the waters are clear now. Yes,” a derisive breath flew from him. “You are an appeasement. I see it plainly.”

An appeasement? To whom?

“The dragon’s confidence must be returned, even if worms must be lifted for it to bear fruit,” he continued. “What fate this brings.”

The miasmic [Intent] intensified, having Fu’s robes turn tacky with sweat.

“Junior Gao, the mantle of earpiece falls to you. Of subordinate head. As it did junior Quan. Yet your vast inadequacies

leave my subordinates bereft and talentless. The rectification for this will be swift, lest you wish to disappoint your betters.” The Squad Leader scattered a key across the floor, where it landed some few strides from Fu. “Training. Resources. Execution. This is the expectation set for those deserving of such a position. For you, the standard sits atop the Heavens.”

“This junior would ask for guidance,” said Fu, and held no shame in crawling to snatch the offered key.

“Even now the junior seeks to twist matters and words, as if I would not notice it. My deduction is correct. No guidance is offered to those who cannot fail. Begone now, and know only that orders will arrive come the [Season’s] change. I trust that even one as lacking as you might act accordingly.”

🀦

Zhu awaited him, though his presence was almost unnoticed amidst the buzzing of Fu’s thoughts.

An… expectation was set. No. A misunderstanding through assumption.

The pair took some small strides through the labyrinthian tunnels before the encounter was relayed.

“Mortal blood,” listed Zhu. “Glory. The inability to fail. Dragons. It’s astounding.”

A pause drew several of the local serpents to their heels, unperturbed that their access across the stone was blocked. Some faint sense of [Spring] called to the [Hollow Ivory Splinter], weak, but noted.

“In regard to what? Many parts confound me,” admitted Fu.

“That your conversations are never of mundane matters. Cultivators face a sea of troubles, yet this is intermittent. [Karma] conspires against you, truly. I’ve yet to judge if this is a benefit. And I’d not blindly accept that our senior holds your best interests to heart in matters of ‘failure’.”

Hushi sent a similar impression, though his intent was focused upon the serpents below.

He is not wrong.

“Yunhan was once named as a dragon.”

“No. We’re to have a day without guesswork. The initiates await,” said Zhu, and enforced a look of warning.

Their postures told much of this pair before they had reached ten strides distant, more so that only one initiate straightened on the approach. The other lax, and confident.

Zhu offered no greeting, taking to stare instead.

“This Yin Linhua hopes to be of use to the squad,” whispered the leftmost woman, at such a volume that mortals might strain to hear her. The mild weight of Fu’s gaze had her eyes drop, and he noted that her features marked her to be on the edge of crying.

His attention went to the second, who opposed this. “My, you’re a well groomed man,” said the Vajra, addressing Zhu to spare little attention to Fu.

“She’s neither a liar nor blind,” he remarked.

“I’m Niwai, and I greet the sub-leader.”

“No, you greet me. The aged one beside me is your sub-leader. The one you show such a blatant lack of face towards,” he continued. “If it still matters, you’ll call me Zhu.”

Both women adjusted, though Linhua’s eyes had yet to lift.

“Ah. I was told to expect one of the Elder’s favor, if in muted curses from Master Jinjie,” said Niwai, her tone unchanged. “I’ll say it now- to hear one’s leader berated inspires no well of confidence.”

Amusement had Tanshuai land upon Fu’s douli. Or so Hushi impressed.

“Again, this Yin Linhau hopes only to be of use, and greets the sub-leader,” chirped Linhau. “She would apologise for disciple Niwai’s forwardness.”

“Why? I’d not have you speak for me.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“It… is just that…” quietened Linhau.

A look to match the Squad Leader’s disdain passed across Niwai. “Sub-leader. It’s my hope that we might trade pointers, so that my merits are known.”

Yet to have introduced himself, Fu did not know what to make of the pair. Neither could he find an adequate way to.

Strange faces and strange intentions. If only our squad might be comprised of just two… This woman is a Long in the making. Without his subtlety.

Thus he responded with a base, “Oh?”

Niwai grinned at the reply. “It’s an honour you grant me, brother Gao Fu.”

Though the blind might have spied her intentions, he turned each potentiality over in a silent walk to the training hall. Was it the brashness of a cultivator? Of nobility? Did her skill assure her of victory?

Regardless, she sought to undermine him from the onset, and this brought further pensiveness.

Zhu’s prior foisting of responsibility had not struck him with the same uncertainty as before. His own… tranquillity had returned following the study of his [Ink]. Before that, perhaps, in the steaming waters, or with his ascension to [Core Formation].

As such, he had the revelation merely wash over him. And as ever, Fu was carried by the lapping waves.

Ready to meet such a challenge to his newfound stability.

With no love held for these initiates, Fu placed himself on the exterior sands. No mention of Yunhan’s hall.

A scattering of Clouded Court disciples treated with the practice targets there, or sparred in purposeful bouts to perfect the minutiae of movements with their techniques. But an [Autumn] night ran long, and such darkness was a friend to their branch’s activities. Rendering the space well vacant for their use.

Niwai took the opposing side and placed a hand atop her hip. Her comeliness was unmissable, if standard fare for cultivators, and Fu noted more how her hair hung like his daughters’ in the current fashion than her youthful, pristine charm.

Wings flashed from the folds of these braids, where a nest of some spherical ornamentation was bound within.

A daffodil-hued [Spirit Bird] came to land on her shoulder.

“Uktaka, remain for now. We’ve a simple lesson here-” she began.

But Fu felt again her pride, and interjected. “A tiger uses its full strength, even when hunting a rabbit. Does it not?”

The Vajra drew a dim jian, and held it so the blade ran parallel to end aside her elbow. Her first motion-

[Half Cloud Step] birthed a clang of metal. Edges cried as Fu’s blade met her own, clashing as she whirled around in reaction. “The path of [Body] suits you well,” he said, disengaging.

Niwai’s gaze narrowed, and she put paces between them. Her stance grew tighter, and a second, smaller blade appeared in her off hand to be held as the first was.

A talent, to react to an attack from the [Realm] above. I wonder what else a competent leaver might test?

Knowing that querying her net mending technique or precision when shucking a scallop would offer no benefit, he resigned to testing her cultivation through attributes.

[Might] had them meet in the middle not a half-second later. His own blade was stowed, and a dozen exchanges flew out to be countered by kicks alone. No full set, but precise and awkward inversions from the [Stifling Stream Revolutions] that pit her flexibility against his [Control].

“Am I no rabbit?” she snarled.

Ire raised, Niwai’s body flared with the [Dao]. A series of golden characters scrawled across her brow, setting there where others might have held the Adamant View, and she became as fleet as a rushing wind.

The pair entered an aerial dance, where her twin blades sought to carve free chunks of the revolving Fu. Each edge tore at his robes, and only with a suffusion of his [Half Cloud Step] did he remain ahead.

Still, he did not withdraw his blade.

Niwai’s offence only grew, and Fu noted that her [Dao] was maintained throughout, with no visible evidence of its toll.

A hundred exchanges became two, and on this mark he conjured a cloud to appear beneath his sole. His own toll, if in Qi, was dramatically lessened due to his increase to [Capacity], and mid-step he conjured another.

One below, one above, which had him invert to break clean through Niwai’s guard and smash a foot into her temple.

The woman skirted across the sands, tumbling once before rising.

Resilience is not her strength, I had better pull my blows further.

Her presence flared, known to all through rage. Unsuppressed.

“That is enough,” Fu called, and clasped his hands in respect.

“Enough?” her teeth ground. “That-”

His [Intent] unfurled to have her gasp. Not in mirror of the Squad Leader’s, which was an intimidation, but to highlight a fault.

Niwai’s [Clouded Ghost Arts] fluctuated in the face of it. The range was not absolute, but caught his spectators to see Linhua cower. Zhu remained unaltered.

“Sister Linhua,” addressed Fu. “You have taken the Sect’s techniques to heart, it is commendable. The strength of it is rivalled by sister Niwai’s [Prowess] in the jian.”

The sidelines sported a murmur, if little else, for the Vajra’s restlessness stole much attention. Once more she descended into motion, though this set had the makings of preparation. A half dance, where the blades flirted and turned.

Does this fall within my purview? To correct such pride? Quan Ding and Mohini ran rampant with extortion, thievery and betrayal… The Squad Leader holds us in loose strings.

Should Fu Gao surface, and introduce this woman to depthless shame?

Wrongness sang at his lip. Curious, and queer. It drew him to pause and regard the continual stances as Niwai no doubt mounted a technique to devastate him. Her own lips whispered in quiet recital, and from this, the wrongness only built.

Instinctually.

[Severed Mountain Strokes].

“The…” he breathed. “The [Severed Mountain Strokes]. If incomplete.”

Niwai went agape.

Zhu crossed the sands. “Fu called enough,” he reminded.

“Because he knows my technique? It is famed throughout the Clear Sky Empire. That alone doesn’t permit him to lead. The Squad Leader spoke of his demerits.”

“That is not why he stands above you,” warned Zhu, his tone sharp. “Linhua, you’ll benefit from a bout. Go, take her place.”

It was no cool exchange that had the pair swap positions, and Niwai’s mutterings had to be silenced by Zhu’s glare so that Linhua could take the stage.

She was meek, if another radiant beauty. A [Bloodline] evident in the ash-white of her short hair, though of a lesser potency than Zhu’s for the remnants of [Ink] upon her brow. The unsuppressed stain showed in silver waves, and marked her on the path of [Mind].

“This Yin Linhua does not claim to be a tiger,” she said.

Fu only nodded. “This is but an exercise to gauge your cultivation, although it did not start as such. I ask only that you try to embody the beast, not become one.”

To his surprise, an ashen [Spirit Serpent] dropped from her sleeve. Its tail, ridged and a-rattle.

Hushi.

The [Spirit Beasts] took centre stage, and Fu matched Linhua’s courtesy by standing as he had no need to dampen her pride.

“Linhua,” called Zhu. “A weapon.”

“This Yin Linhua carries no weapon,” she replied. “It… I have never had the opportunity.”

How then, was the initiation trial passed? Her partner, perhaps.

All sound was drawn from the sands as a flash of Qi overcame them. It set Linhua to a small strain, a gasp that could only be seen, but it was effective nonetheless.

Under such a canvas, the [Spirit Serpent] launched forth. A transformation of Qi, similar to Hushi’s old habits of enlarging, having overcome it. [Might]-enforced speed was not its strength, but it burrowed deep into the sands below.

Traceless.

Hushi impressed no concern, ever-calm as he was.

A strike broke through the sands, primed to tear at one of eight arms. But the octopus never deigned to look. He merely shifted so that the serpent sailed by to burrow once more.

Ah.

The golden orbs of his eyes were trained upon Uktaka, Niwai’s [Spirit Bird].

It became sequential in moments, for an attack would rise to strike only open space, and the burrowing would recommence. Linhua’s commands were absent, and any somatic control of her [Qi Manipulation] was constrained to the robes bunched between her knuckles.

Fu expanded his [Senses] to the silence. The [Sound Qi] he had felt was but a flash, and the ambient energy around the sands seemed undisturbed. Her [Clouded Ghost Arts] were reflected across the area, it seemed, which his readings told was the stage he would progress to next.

When his second partner was Bonded.

The silence broke then, and a cacophony erupted around Hushi all at once. A violent vibration that visibly hazed and disrupted the arena’s center, having Fu’s ears ring from ten strides distant. He could not imagine the din from where his Bond stood.

Linhua’s [Spirit Serpent] blitzed from beneath amidst this, and drove for Hushi.

An arm flashed to strangle it, despite the discrepancy in size. It wound tight, halting all movement and splurting wet coughs from its cultivator until it was released.

It felt dispassionate to leave her, but he wondered if this was not the way. Thus he looked to Zhu for confirmation, and found nothing.

“Sister Linhua’s [Art] is most impressive,” he finally nodded, and at his delivery she staggered into some semblance of composure. “But I see now where it might be improved.”

“This lacking Yin Linhua-” cough, “-is honoured by the sub-leader’s words, and would gladly take instruction.”

“Sister Niwai, these words also apply to you. The [Clouded Ghost Arts] must be further honed. It is the Clouded Court’s most invaluable technique, and serves as the foundation for all that will come. Situations differ, but the ability to remain undetected remains throughout,” he said. “Sister Niwai, your bladework is excellent, but open confrontation is rarely our first resort. Your emotions betray you, and will betray us all should it shed your suppression.”

The Vajra’s head may well have dipped in affirmation, but it was so slight that Fu could not be certain.

“As stated Sister Linhua, your [Art] will be of great use. But you cannot rely solely on your partner. A weapon is needed, and a martial path,” he said, growing uncertain. “I will enquire about this, unless you wish to discover one yourself. Your [Clouded Ghost Arts] are commendable, yet they are not holistic. Time, I wager, may solve this.”

A hiss sounded from her serpent, acknowledging the words.

“You’d have us train this now?” bit Niwai.

Fu recalled his own experiences not so long ago. “The diligent might. Though I would have you familiarise yourselves with the Clouded Courts before that. If not enter, at least map the entrance to the Clouded Archives, our quarters, contribution exchange, and this training hall. Is this sufficient, Zhu?”

“Wash,” he suggested. “Ensure your uniform is well tended. An old monster prowls the halls that doesn’t take kindly to the alternative. Besides this, I’ve little notion. The hour is late, and Fu’s much to do.”

Oh, but not alone.

They gave words of parting, and in short order both men made their way into the confines of Yunhan’s training hall. For peace, if nothing else.

“Still, I can’t place you,” said Zhu.

Tanshuai had left him to mingle with Hushi, and the pair spared no concern for their conversing cultivators.

“Not an hour ago we held a conversation on mystery, no?” suggested Fu, dropping into a stance before the nearest target. “Or mundane matters?”

“Yes, and it torments me to no end. You’ve told your history in scattered pieces. Yet you wear more faces than that bastard Quan Ding did. A submissive disciple, there- an efficient teacher, before- the tight-lipped clam.”

“Friend, and fellow disciple?” Fu asked.

“In quantities to have me moon-touched. You’ll tell me the reason for it before it wears so thin I’d ask Niwai to share my next bottle of spirit wine.”

The hour was indeed late, and his duties remained. An investigation into training, resources, and execution as it stood. His own cultivation warranted inspection. [Prowess] lacked, for both his techniques had a plethora of unread pages.

Four spatial trinkets in his pouch dogged him, promising progress towards ending at least one of his woes.

Was there truly time for this?

“It is a tale of debt, and- a Long one at that,” said Fu. “As sub-leader, there may not be time to recount it.”

Zhu sighed. “I won’t face the Heavens alone, Fu. Nor will you. Now if it’s so Long, you’d better begin before it turns morning.”