“It has a certain girth,” noted Zhu.

Fu remained still under the inspection. “I did not think you were interested in such things.”

“I’ve one of my own, recall. To compare is only natural,” he continued, and Tanshuai fluttered to land upon the tip. “The size is not intrusive?”

Adding his own hand to the stroke, Fu pondered this. “I cannot complain. Though if it were to grow it may be problematic.”

As they were high upon the balconies of the Clouded Court headquarters the conversation did not extend further, and both men noticed the queer looks that a few of their fellow disciples delivered in passing.

Zhu unhanded the [Old One’s Whisker], and rubbed his fingertips together. “They’re a peculiar breed of treasure. I’m immediately jealous that you have acquired three, and I remain here with one. You’ll tell me how you came to possess another over dinner.”

Hushi moved at this, and the suggestion seemed to shrug a certain weariness from his limbs.

“Soon,” nodded Fu. “But I would not be caught so unseemly. Our Elder would surely introduce more danger than my trials should she come across me as I am.” He had little need to gesture to the multitude of grime upon him, nor did Zhu’s wrinkled nose suggest he had not noticed.

“Yes. You’re disgusting,” acknowledged Zhu. “I’d rather you not enter the quarters, for a return would place you back in duty and spoil the free meal I’m due to receive. An hour for bathing, then we’ll meet here once more. Yes?”

In the coming span of minutes Fu fled across the rooftops, his appearance far too grim to walk amidst the citizenry of the Four Corners Prefecture. The indulgences of [Core Formation] were however, lost on him, and something he scarcely pondered until he descended into the entrance of the closest bathhouse.

The clerk there recoiled in shock at his sudden appearance, which cascaded through the various beauties that stood by in waiting at his counter’s side. “Ma-master cultivator,” he choked, paling. “This humble attendant welcomes you to our modest establishment.”

Fu saw little modest about the grand entrance, nor the iconography of suns carved into the surrounding woodwork. But he spoke undeterred. “Greetings,” he returned. “I require a bath, and if the services are offered, my robes laundered.”

“I beg forgiveness, master cultivator,” said the clerk. “But our bathhouse is currently-”

A novel thought drew a single middle-grade spirit stone into Fu’s hand.

“Undergoing cleaning. A thousand apologies for the inconvenience, all that we have remaining is the private suite,” he finished.

“I am sure it is suitable.”

With a prim bow, two of the women led Fu down a screened hallway. Further suns were inscribed upon the parchment, only darkened by the silhouettes that moved beyond them. Though the volume steadily decreased until he found himself in an emptied hall, with the door drawn closed behind him.

The women gestured respectfully, and maintained horizontal bows while they awaited his instruction.

“Gratitude. I am well versed in bathing,” he said simply, before recalling what he had asked. “Ah. It would be improper for refined women such as yourselves to be here while I undress. I will leave the robes outside.”

He could not fathom the incredulous looks upon the women’s faces. “Master cultivator,” one spoke. “We are included in the private suite. Please make use of us. For one of your esteem there are few tasks we would not perform.”

Wealth indeed brings opportunity.

Fu arched a brow, and Hushi’s arms wriggled in anticipation.

🀨

Ten stacks of newly purchased, dull clothing vanished into Fu’s spatial ring, though he held the wooden advertising chit one of his attendants had handed him free of its clutches for a moment longer. “Sanniang’s,” he mused, reading the eatery’s name. “This will save us time in locating a restaurant, no, Hushi?”

These attendants are indeed resourceful.

The octopus had melted into the steaming waters, and would be impossible to draw any answer from. So Fu stowed the chit in turn, and met his partner’s height.

A stone pool of revitalising Qi held them afloat, and it was stylised as some manner of outdoor spring. Fronds of various ferns hung above the water, sopping in droplets caught there, and casting an unnecessary shade atop the smooth rockery beneath them.

The [Life Qi] cradled his every ache, and neither soul knew just how long they had languished there until the robes were returned. A knock at the screen was met with a brief exchange, which put his Sect uniform within the room before closing once more.

“Time then,” he said to Hushi. “Is it not?”

Bubbles replied before Fu conjured his [Ink].

A grin spread, flushing his mouth with piping water.

The grin grew smaller, and Hushi rose in pensive silence. Adrift in the warm waters.

Fu placed a hand on the octopus’ hide, and wondered if this change in [Affinity] was the reason for its dulling. The teal now a pastel of its former sheen. On inspection, so too was his [Ink], among other changes.

Stylised clouds swarmed his upper shoulder, and he noted that the count of stars amidst them had risen to three.

Zhu holds an advantage with his [Bloodline], for it suppresses the [Ink]. I must take care not to wander with my arms exposed. At least when in the company of the rare few that know of [Constellation Seeds].

Unwilling to spoil his bath, Fu refrained from calling out the name or searching internally for the imparted technique.

Though this was, in part, due to the uncertainty of Synthesis.

A simpler gain. Yet none the less powerful for it.

He reached an equilibrium with the myriad changes upon reading his [Ink], and the differences seemed to… settle. As though the exact method of Qi impartment granted a firmer grasp upon the improvements.

Naturally his [Capacity] had risen dramatically, and here, in the peace of steaming waters, Fu went inward to reflect on the [Core] that now circulated his Qi.

The specks of the-

[Soul Gnawing Orchids].

Hushi streamed across the pool, agitated with the expectation of violence. Likewise water spilled from Fu as he burst into the first stance of the [Stifling Stream Revolutions].

Both fools settled into the marginally lower pool some few minutes later, holding a better understanding of what [Intermediary Wisdom] entailed.

“That voice matched the Old One,” confirmed Fu, once more splaying wide. “If it could be called a voice. An impression, like our own. If violent.”

To conjure an image of the [Soul Gnawing Orchids] brought vague characteristics to mind. Impressions, as he had stated, and pulled forth associations. Feelings of alchemy, for pills and a sense of danger where it related to one’s [Dantian].

He looked at one of the lolling fronds by his side.

Words did not form this time, only the impressions of [Life Qi] and of nourishment. Vague thoughts that alerted him to his nature, if little else.

The rocks gave impressions of minor [Dao] inscriptions, attuned to [Principles] of restoration and rejuvenation.

Hushi, then, and this time a great threat rose upon inspection. One of a looming danger pertaining once more to his [Dantian], and of the [Spectral Qi] that his new [Affinity] held.

Fu’s brow twitched as if a small weariness had crept upon him. Queer, in present surroundings. “There… there is such a good thing as this? I feel a toll as if flirting with my [Dao], but this is invaluable. No, Hushi?”

His Bond had slopped to cross the floor, Fu’s spatial ring in hand. It opened to produce a vial of the Open Eye tincture, gifted to all disciples that they might glean more from the [Clouded Ghost Arts] manuscript.

Hushi unstoppered it over an arm, and both watched as the compound was absorbed into his skin. Trace amounts of Qi entered their system from their [Hundred Immunities Fruit] in moments, yet a small impression built in the octopus.

A clear droplet appeared on one of Hushi’s forearms, which was a realisation near lost on Fu amidst the wash of water there already. But in short order his eyes widened.

“Synthesis,” he smiled, reaching over as the droplet was smudged into his own skin. A confirmation that Hushi had indeed produced a trifle of poison. “Replicated? Yet another wonder to process.”

By instinct, either by way of his [Hundred Immunities Fruit] or the [Old One’s Whisker], Fu knew the gifted poison was in too little volume to copy the act. But he felt a resonance in its touch, and pushed his gaze half-inward to where a faint warmth rose.

A secondary [Core] rested two finger’s wide of his central [Core], unaffiliated with Qi save for where poison was concerned. It had the feel of a pool, and put Fu to wondering if this was the tank he might draw from when using his newfound [Art].

Beyond these revelations, he only breathed.

[An Array in One Hand’s] trial had proved an opportune ordeal. A winnowing, to use the master’s own words.

A cultivator’s true life, to face such experiences as if they are naught. To forsake fear in place of progress against the Heavens.

Fu allowed the waters to engulf him, and put a small hope forward. That, perhaps, they might cleanse the stains of his inadequacies with but a minute longer submerged.

🀨

“The villain, Fu Gao,” queried Zhu, with ultimate neutrality.

“Our [Dao Oath] had me wish to preserve identity. But ask, and I shall be first to admit the foolishness of the ploy.”

With the same, absent fascination held for Fu’s moustache, Zhu stroked his bare lip. “No, it’s quite common to affect a persona in the- Jianghu, was it? Were I you, I’d worry more on the [Karmic] ties between you and these scions. Yet I am not, so I’ll just enjoy the dumplings.”

Fu allowed himself to wince. “Let us change the subject.”

The man shrugged. “[An Array in One Hand] then. Crippled or not, an immortal scorned is no small hound to have at your heels.”

“Zhu, this remains the same subject.”

“Yes, it does. My own delve into the Clouded Archives was fruitful, if dull. What would we talk on if not your recent tale?” There came a rap upon the nearby screen, and Zhu gave a cry for the servers to enter.

Five youthful beauties glided through across the threshold a moment later, adding a litany of fragrant bowls to their table. The solitary table in this private room.

“Gratitude,” nodded Fu, granting each face for their efforts only to receive muted shock as they left.

“The whisker on your face was a product of the [Constellation Seed]. The [Art] you described is equally as unrivalled.”

“Oh, how so?” asked Fu.

“A trove of knowledge based on the learnings of an immortal creature. I fail to see where you fall short here. Tanshuai,” he then interrupted. “Hushi will pillage all of the rice if you do not act.”

The [Spirit Butterfly] gave an approximation of an indignant look, and preened in favour of further eating.

“This [An Array In One Hand] - I have a sister whose caravan regularly restocks several of the nearby [Mystic Realms]. Rumour states he’d have any merchants deliver their books to his aides for inspection, and this is any, to be copied and replaced. This was the price of his business.”

“Ledgers and transactions?”

“Any,” stated Zhu. “Lesser tomes, fables, the martial tomes of accompanying escort warriors.”

“To the end of accumulating knowledge? Surely with one of his lifespan there are few things he would not know. The Clouded Archives are surely the only comparison.”

“Their shelves are not lacking,” agreed Zhu. “But I am intrigued, and hate mystery. The [Array] that shattered during your [Tribulation], this held the catfish.”

“It is what freed it from the master’s influence.”

“The purpose is what’s important here, Fu. Ashing cultivators, [Spirit Worms], competition. It’s nauseating.”

Fu stroked at his whiskers. “The hsiang sheng.”

A raucous laugh burst from Zhu, startling even his Bond. “His schemes lie in ruin, and you’d insult him further. How bold, Fu. Your face tells a better picture, however.”

“Challenge me to fish, friend,” Fu returned. “And our positions would be swapped. Tell me what it is.”

Without any sense of decorum, Zhu emptied a ceramic urn of its remaining spirit wine. “This is whole,” he said, to Fu’s silent agreement.

The urn was shattered against the floor at a push.

“And now it is broken. That is the hsiang sheng. The study of one enriches the other, where it relates to the [Dao].”

“To understand dryness, one must first be wet,” said Fu. “If I follow?”

“Other than willingly following [Demonic] scriptures, it’s supposedly the greatest shame a cultivator might face. The act of the uninspired and talentless. [An Array in One Hand] is peerless in strategy, and [Array] work as his [Dao] name suggests. To follow the hsiang sheng… I find myself growing disinterested.”

“He gathered new strategists.”

“Then whatever his cultivation required is now a step upon your own. To have the catfish. We’ve faced much in a short span. But our history does not stretch so far. Not so much that I might hold my tongue should I return to find you have bound peerless beauties and strategists in our quarters.”

Fu arched a brow.

Zhu cut him off before words could form. “Beyond dual cultivation, naturally.”

“He recoiled at the [Splinter’s] mention,” teased Fu.

“Your [Constellation Seed], or, no. The namesake of the [Mystic Realm], the Hollow Hegemon. Is this the title of the item? The claw that is not.” Zhu frowned, though leant to fill both of their cups with spirit wine. “With the Elder’s reaction, and this master’s. You are a bastard for kindling my interest.”

“Were I a greedy man, I might seek to know more. But caution is practised best when it concerns matters above us. The trial has landed me with enough unknowns, and I have read that a man should strengthen his foundations when advancing a [Realm].”

“Ah, so you are still Fu Gao. The cruel villain that entices with conversation,” said Zhu. “So be it.”

The four settled into quiet, unwilling to waste the purchased meal. A spread, as it happened, interspersed with concoctions of both ‘nourishment’ and ‘flavour’. Further adding to the [Inner Qi] that rotated around Fu’s [Core].

He found that a small absence had improved his opinion on Zhu further, and the return was a queer one. As if the small window wherein they had bonded had them meet once more as old friends. Or so the atmosphere felt.

As bowls emptied and the remaining spirit wine diminished, more than an hour was whiled away in light conversation. They touched the subjects of the Clouded Archives and its contents, of this [Season’s] fresh intake of Initiates and other more Sect oriented affairs, at which Tanshuai came to urge her cultivator further.

“Tanshuai, you seem to be injected with lightning,” mused Fu, dipping his brow to the plum-hued spirit insect.

Her wings unclasped in a returning bow.

“She chastises me for indulging in meal and company when there are matters to address,” said Zhu, placing Fu in strange regard. “Our absence has put our Senior under scrutiny, and he has few favourable words to share of the squad.”

“Is he forced to act in stead of subordinates? With our personal time extended, the Clouded Court Squads will have lost a fingernail,” mused Fu, though he placed no great importance on their presence.

The Cloudy Serpent Sect, after all, was peerless and vast.

“[Winter’s] almost upon us, your ascension’s lost you many days. Our squad is restocked, as if we’re a muddy footprint under which water seeks to rise. Fresh initiates have made us whole.”

Bastards and brats. If nothing else Ding had it marked well.

“Fellow disciples then,” suggested Fu.

“People, yes. If they’re fellows it remains to be seen.” Tanshuai returned to urging. “Dings and Mohinis. I’d not have their like. Nor would I enjoy their circumstance to be repeated.”

Fu’s skin ran a mite cold, sensing the implication. “Tenure had them careless, and twisted in duty.”

“Not a match for [Of Perennial Shade’s] desires. No,” stated Zhu. Here his gaze turned intense, while the butterfly took to resting. But he continued thereafter, his message delivered. “I’ve distanced myself from the trouble of introductions, so our return will be novel.”

“Then,” breathed Fu. “Then how do you know of the Squad Leader’s disappointment? Are rumours shared of it? For gossip to be so loud does not bode well.”

The last splash of spirit wine was emptied, and Zhu’s face turned grief stricken. “He wouldn’t share tales of his inadequacy, his pride is too bloated. This he informed me of personally, cornering me not two days past.”

“I am sorry you had to face it.”

“Why? It would lose no edge should another take the brunt, worse yet if he stoppered it like fire in a vial. Thoughts should be known, no?”

Fu found himself smiling. It said much of his fellow disciple, these words. “He did not order your personal time to end?”

“A Senior he may be, but none could dare change an Elder’s wishes. My deadline is your return, or so I’d told him.”

“Oh?”

“I’d told him you were in closed cultivation, anticipating an advancement to [Core Formation]. You act queer and juvenile when others might learn of your heritage. Your life and such. Thus I’ve dared to lie on your behalf,” said Zhu.

Hushi rose from his bed of destruction: some not-insubstantial mound of Qi-rich fishbones, and gestured appreciatively to the man.

“Gratitude, brother,” Fu smiled.

“Brother? Haven’t we discussed this?”

With a head dip, Fu apologised. “Gratitude, friend. Though I am glad that you were not greatly troubled. Even if I am a ruse for your continued indulgence. Our words should match, however, lest I trip over your tongue. What was it you said?”

Zhu rose from the table. “That you’re eager, as our senior-most fellow.”

“Eager,” intoned Fu. “To return to our duties?”

“To lead them, as his second. A Quan Ding reborn,” said Zhu, and flung open the screen to begin their journey home.