Fu was held somewhere between rapture and agony, his body reforged. His [Ink], an inferno without flames. Yet he dared not chance a moment to look upon them and glean the myriad changes that his ascension had wrought.

For what he faced now may well end him before the first line was read.

A great portion of the cavern above had illuminated, shifting in a melted stain of purest azure, ever expanding. It was brought forth in a rumble and a roar: Heaven’s displeasure, evident.

[Might] swelled within Fu’s arms as he battered against his manacles, no need for subtlety amidst the incoming retribution. His yank came to no effect, save for the lack of damage he himself sustained.

He knew not where to face. Knew not how to survive this ordeal.

An ascension beyond the [Mystic Realm’s] vaunted [Heavenly Restrictions], bringing him past the [Realm] of cultivation that it allowed. This affront was to be met with swift rage, which his readings had warned were nominally formed of lightning or elemental scourge.

The rise of hairs upon his arm, and the latent, static charge he could feel oppressing his very breath spoke true of this.

As did the gushing storm that blew through the stone above.

Azure violence crashed down atop him, incinerating his flesh and wiring his jaw shut. Fu was immobilised beneath a torrent of crackles and light, and could do naught but hang limp under its divine weight.

An excruciation only amplified for the forked beam that struck Hushi in the orchid’s embrace.

Together their pain conjured thoughts of death. Of an agony hitherto unfelt by either.

But together they were, with a link far clearer than before. Hushi pushed through the onslaught’s pain, which seemed eternal in length, and shared… further Qi.

More of the orchid’s soul-destroying poison. Yet impotent. No longer a detriment in any composition, for when his [Hundred Immunities] fruit imparted the Qi to Fu’s [Dantian], he received it all.

The tide of this that some few moments prior had torn his [Channels] raw and overwhelmed him with such saturation that his blood has felt as though it flowed in reverse, now changed.

He directed the Qi to his still breaking flesh, stitching each wound and welt to stem the flow of persistent damage.

For one hundred heartbeats, the lightning maintained.

And then it was suddenly over, and Fu gasped out to see the cavern’s annihilation. Darkened sunlight spilled through numerous gaps in the stone above, and more were created under the downpour of crashing boulders.

Thuds replaced the rumble, once when they broke from the ceiling and the second when they punched the ground below.

Fu wrenched his arms, finding a molten liquid in place of his manacles. Oozing. But he thrust forth without another thought, knowing it unimportant. Two steps of unparalleled speed rushed him by the stains where a clutch of his fellow competitors were mulched below rocks, and towards the orchid where his partner rested.

But he had no need to plunge into the pollen-soaked waters, for in a heartbeat Hushi had launched into his arms.

They exchanged a look, and rounded on the dragon whose den yet crumbled around them.

[An Array in One Hand] sat tranquil on the shattered pier, his meditation unmolested by fractures and missing stone.

A trance? The pull must be powerful to have it continue amidst this ruin.

In place of words, Fu flashed Hushi his intent. A purpose long dwarfed by pretences of competition and this fresh capture.

The [Constellation Seed]. All other prizes are meaningless.

Of all places to search, the catfish seemed wisest to begin with. Divinity, or sense of such, had clung to it despite its bloated, cancerous form. An awe struck that one as lowly as Fu could scarcely fathom.

The waters churned in turmoil, not only for the cascade of rocks. But for geysers beneath that trembled forth great waves. A carpet of lilac specks mired its surface from view, putting doubt as to the [Spirit Beast’s] true location.

Fu broke into the waters, surging deep in a single kick. [Seasons] had passed since his last swim, and he recalled his mortal days where such an act had come daily. Had he this [Might] then his boat would have been lined with gold.

So helpless the fish would have been.

He turned about as tumultuous waves rocked him, jerking him from explosions both near and distant. Beneath the surface, this strength was devastating, no less when the source was revealed.

Aglow in lime, the [Spirit Catfish] raged. Its thrashes poured it into the lakeside, stripping stone and detritus.

The aftershock of each was a force unto the Heavens itself, even so fresh from a [Tribulation] as Fu was.

Yet only ill fate lost fishermen to the tides.

[Half Cloud Step].

The suffusion of [Air Qi] was novel in its strength, and a single kick propelled Fu so swiftly through the water that it severed half the distance between he and the fish. Another brought him within ten paces. His blade now in hand.

Hushi, the [Spirit Core] must be our treasure. Or an organ. This slaughter must be delicate, if we are able to harm it at all.

The [Spirit Catfish] streaked around, a malefic glow to its eyes. Needled on the approaching Fu.

It-

A mountainous force compressed Fu, and wrenched him violently rearward. The water scraped against his [Resilience] as if bladed, his sides now littered with a thousand sharp cuts. Fresh spillages of this blood mingled with the fractured pier as he was slammed against it.

Where Qi forced the stone to become his coffin.

“I see you now. Serpent,” thundered [An Array in One Hand].

The [Dao of Wayward Breezes] did not come when called.

“The favour of that treacherous crone lingers in your skin like a foul taint. [Of Perennial Shade],” he continued. “She would send you, yes. But she would need a thousand serpents to put but a scratch on my designs! What hubris. Centuries do not change a person, she was always an impetuous whelp.”

These words barely reached Fu, for stone clotted his all. Yet [Senses] provided the muffled outline.

“My withdrawal from the Jianghu spans centuries, and she seeks to stoke the ire of the great [An Array in One Hand]. Such ploys will be fruitless. No. No,” he mused. “Her game is more cunning than this. A message, then? To speak of her reach. Intimidation. No. My [Reliquary] remains elsewhere, so the pitiful Cloudy Serpents cannot covet my treasures nor act to claim them. Ah, ah! She knows of my progress, and seeks to shame me, for my return would spell ruin for that false dynasty of hers!”

His captor bid him rise, suspending Fu in the air.

“Tell me what she knows of the hsiang sheng. This is my final deduction. Speak, and I will condense your suffering to a mere twenty moons.”

Fu croaked through the disbelief that he still drew breath. “Forgive me, venerable master. This lowly fool knows not of the hsiang sheng,”

The returned look was owlish, and of matching, alien disbelief. Lilac irises focused, yet vastly absent. “Truly the land is troubled if children such as you are so lacking!” He stared again, and drew Fu so close that the wrinkles upon this master’s skin grew to canyons.

“As you say, esteemed master. This lowly Fu Gao is but a child,” he strained in reply.

A palm came to hover above Fu’s chest, and tore what little cloth clad him into shreds without touch. “My [Three Eyed Spying Array]. How bold to use this creation against me. She speaks volumes with this.” Qi faintly flared from his fingertips. “Gon Ma. A youth with whom I am not familiar. But his talent in [Arrays] is quite marvellous. His [Dao Name] lies obscured, even if his given name is not. Yet I see here an entanglement. So once more I am curious of her ploy.”

Fu was towed as [An Array in One Hand] tread across open air beyond the pier’s edge.

The [Spirit Catfish] thrashed from the water but a moment later, maw spread wide to consume the pair in engulfing black. Its leap ended with the flick of the master’s sleeve, for another palm rose to suspend the titan in place.

“My heart,” he called, drawing the [Spirit Worm] from within its mouth to slither forth half-emerged. “We will reap this transgressor's memories. An old foe has reared her head to undermine our path. Go gently, he is but a step beyond [Core Formation], and he must be injured before we have what we seek.”

The worm burrowed within, and in short order did a glow of lime emit. Those whiskers, as before, became beacons upon the malformed fish.

“Benevolence is ill-suited for one who sullies,” intoned the [Spirit Worm]. “Only my heart’s generosity saves you from righteous retribution.”

Fu’s mind was clamped by mental pressure, and… a second voice came.

“This old one has met the end of his journey. He would not face another moon as he is; diminished, broken, feeble.”

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

A tether extended between the [Spirit Worm] and its cultivator, though Fu could not see to his rear to place the second’s location.

“My [Seed] is what the wanderer seeks.”

The catfish?

“Honor will be found then, in dynasty. In legacy.”

Conflicting weights opposed Fu’s thoughts. A force that sought to pillage on one, and the other… something old, and something vast.

“But what child of the [Dao] is this? A babe of duty: of twinned face. What conflict the Heavens have placed… yes. He writhes in chains so others may walk: he stalks that others might face the sun. Vengeance is Heaven’s gift: yet he seeks it not.”

“My heart-” broke the [Spirit Worm].

“This old one feels the oaths placed. The wanderer must not be asked for a third. The saviour must be recompensed. A promise. Yes. Though this old one asks much already.”

“Beast,” roared [An Array in One Hand]. “You dare!”

“Valued saviour. Would you show this old one joy? Would you share the abundance there that does not wane?”

Time stood transfixed, and Fu saw only the weeping eyes of the [Spirit Catfish]. Sensations of his immortal foes yet pressed, foisting such urgency that he could only nod in hope. The question asked was unknown, the consequences, but what choice did he have?

“Joy is not my own to grant, but what you might find yourself, venerable old one.”

“Truth, in the face of the Heavens. It is done.”

Fu cursed as [An Array in One Hand]’s mental pressure tore against his own. The [Spirit Worm’s]. Overwriting the catfish’s speech, and scouring the edges of his thoughts to return a calamity of sound.

“[Of Perennial Shade] plays the old game well. But this will cease.” The physical threat that came then was inconsequential, Fu somehow mused. He felt further pressure, squeezed by the same force that held him aloft.

But there came a boundary to pain that this had long surpassed, and the fisherman grew bold in the face of it. Able to while away the scant seconds he sensed he needed.

Albeit with a bare offering.

“The…” he choked, by no means faking his speech. “[Splinter].”

[An Array in One Hand] flew back as though it was he whose blood flowed in reverse. “A name overheard in conversation. Nothing more.”

“Brace.”

No further conversation passed as Fu’s enemies recoiled.

Yet bulges sprouted in the already bulged. Flesh grew as if inner heat forced it to expand. The [Spirit Worm] screeched in feminine tones. [An Array in One Hand] had his palms glisten in gold, which burst out to attempt to inscribe the makings of an [Array] upon the area.

His skill was truly unmatched, for these characters flew into myriad formations. Lines, and crossed segments that thrummed in a map of power.

Lime light sustained the notion of flames within the [Catfish], bathing the entirety of its skin in a growing force.

All of this took some time to describe, but actually happened in an instant.

An instant in which the [Spirit Catfish] exploded from within, detoning its own [Core] to deliver the most ultimate damage.

Lime stained Fu’s eyelids in blots as he vanished below the waters at the behest of a battering, annihilatory force.

🀦

The ordeal of entombment beneath falling rocks, beneath a tide of water, of the hostile explosion of Qi.

Pain.

Wounds.

It mattered little.

Only that Fu had resurfaced after a span of what seemed like hours. Retrieved by a set of ogrish arms.

To be pulled from the depths rewarded Shaokang with a blade to the neck, drawn in the same moment he had arrived in the dilapidated cavern. If such a name was still accurate, with the expanse now roofless and bright.

“A step back,” Fu warned.

Shaokang obliged, if sternly. Then, he dropped into a bow. “Master cultivator.”

Words. I have not the fortitude to trade them.

A vague remnant of the pier lay shattered ahead, with most buried beneath rock. He saw three cleats, and the pasted remains below. The remainder of his vision put his eyes wide with shock, and a hand clamped high to rub it free.

Finding hair upon his lip where none had been before.

Fu blinked.

Fu blinked again.

Hushi could not copy this, but narrowed his own eyes, having descended from a head that bore no douli.

Their [Ink] was an inferno, and with much to review Fu focused on only that which was pertinent and able to viewed in present company.

Shaokang’s steps had him turn, but they were more of following than pursuit. As such Fu expanded his [Senses], noting the absence of immortality in the air.

Though writhing did sound.

“[An Array in One Hand] would have cleansed us by overturning a hand, should he draw breath,” he whispered.

A musing that had him seek confirmation.

His [Senses] touched upon five individuals, with Shaokang and his [Spirit Crocodile] counted in this number. Two remained at the cleats, their cultivation of [Foundation] strength. While the final… was fractured and disparate.

[Half Cloud Step] blew him to a penetration of rock. A downwards spike that had [An Array in One Hand] mauled on one side. His hip, beneath as he flapped against it.

He moaned with distant scorn, as though watching a fantasy unfold the likes of which went beyond his understanding. The immortal had presented as queer, and absent, though this was something induced from another source.

The [Spirit Worm]’s death. The crippling of his cultivation.

No thing known to Fu could survive such a blast as the [Spirit Catfish]... the Old One, had produced. Much less an existence that was trapped in such close proximity.

There is time to reflect during my escape. All that remains is this master’s fate.

To have one’s cultivation crippled was not death. Only a regression that tipped a soul closer to mortality than spiritual.

A dragon, made newt.

Thus Fu made the wisest choice, and attempted to hack his blade into [An Array in One Hand’s] neck.

Yet the path of [Body] was clear. The [Resilience] half-maintained despite this state. So his hacking turned to butchery, and then further, to savagery until the corpse before him…

Unblemished.

An immortal was not so readily unmade.

I must flee, and swiftly.

In the coming moments, Fu stood from the horror, hearing Shaokang once more at his rear. “Why… why do you follow, cultivator?”

Another bow, unperturbed by the bloodbath. “Debt,” the ogre grunted.

Further cords to twist and bind. This day- this contest, it is manic. Enough to ruin one’s mind and have it moon-touched.

“Debt with the Sepulchral Saber Sect is not a thing you would wish,” he replied.

Shaokang grunted again. “Serpents. Not sabres, the master stated.”

What was more blood upon his blade? Was its coating not thick already?

“[An Array in One Hand] was mistaken,” said Fu, sensing where best to strike the approaching [Spirit Crocodile].

“It matters not. My debt belongs to a man, not a Sect.” Shaokang raised his head. “I, Shaokang, pledge myself to the master cultivator.”

Perhaps it was madness that had Fu snort. “This has been a long day, these words are only caught by the gale we suffer through. No debt is owed, and no pledge is welcome.”

“Unacceptable.”

A second snort. “Unacceptable? You forget yourself, Shaokang. No man of debt would speak like this.” Fu stepped by the man with new found [Might], his swiftness bordering the [Half Cloud Step] of his early cultivation.

“Master cultivator,” grunted the distant ogre.

Fu swept between fallen rocks, inspecting the barbarity of flesh where cleats had once stood. Few… parcels remained intact, and fewer yet were recognizable. But in fashion with his blade, more muck would not dissuade him.

Debt had forced clarity when uttered, and even remnants of treasure would be a windfall. Though he came away with a small selection, adding two spatial rings to his collection, and an item he had all but forgotten about.

His [Senses] shifted then, speaking to the other signatures within the cavern. A pair that had faded from life. Fu only stowed his latest treasure, a jade jewel set upon a curved pin, and moved to the cavern’s entrance.

One of many.

He arrived at a vast staircase, winding up the side of rock. It brought him directly beneath the former master’s abode, which itself was a blackened wreck. Punctured, and aflame where Heaven’s wroth had driven through.

Thoughts of aides and disciples had him stalk up the cliff-face in usual fashion, albeit under a growing weariness.

But he arrived without trouble, as he did at the [Paifang].

“Master cultivator,” yelled Shaokang in no respectful manner.

Fu pushed through the enveloping field between pillars, immersing himself in Qi. It drowned out the protests in favour of a joyous silence: spare moments in which he might bolster his resolve against the mounting fatigue.

[Core Formation] and more beside this. Grandmother Hua was correct. Crisis is merely opportunity, riding the dangerous wind.

The world spread out to reveal the same mountaintop as his departure. The same descent of stairs he had climbed an unknown time ago.

A breath told him of [Autumn], and how his own [Season] had yet to arrive. For which he was thankful.

“All we have now is the journey back,” he told Hushi. “That we escaped was fateful, and I would not push such chance further.”

Hushi moved across his shoulder, lifting grime and sending tatters of cloth to the tiles below. Impressionless, but his point well made.

“Yes. We would be cut down as a [Demon] to be seen like this,” he mused. But seeing no cultivators in sight, chanced a walk forward. Fresh clothes were unlikely to appear in the thin air beside him.

On the staircase’s edge, two voices cut towards him. If from opposing directions.

“Warriors of the Feizhou clan,” resounded the first, a man breaking from his watch mid-way up the ascent. “The villain Fu Gao appears!”

“Master cultivator,” grunted Shaokang. “Do not dishonour me further.”

Fu rubbed at the moustache upon his lip, finding it a novel way to ponder. “A debt,” he said.

“A debt,” came the gruff reply.

“I am not fond of these.”

“Honour demands repayment. No matter the breed that grants it,” Shaokang said.

Fu did not trust this man. But to have him swear on the [Dao]... his interests might be met without incident should he have an agent. For now. “A minor oath.”

“Debts of life are not minor.”

“To be spoken of later. Take this, Shaokang, for I do not know what worth you hold to have us bound as you suggest,” stated Fu. “Swear that you shall not act against my interests, or those I am connected with. Not until we meet again.”

“On my [Dao], I swear it. Your word is my law and your interests are my own. On this, twice, do I bind myself.”

A force washed forth from the ogre’s chest, and that of his trailing Bond. Something with a hint of connection, as if the parties were now tethered.

Arunima’s jade ring was pulled from a well-frayed pouch upon Fu’s hip, tossed to be caught by Shaokang. “A woman by the name of Sister Star may well remain here. Find her, and exchange this for what she has promised. When this is complete, you will travel to the Golden Merchant canton within the Divine Clouded Mountain and seek a woman known as Grandmother Hua.”

“Divine Clouded Mountain. You would have me find a needle in ten thousand haystacks?” grunted Shaokang.

“Frequent the tea shops,” said Fu. “To find her will be no great difficulty, for most paths she is to walk are known already.”

“I would rather aid you in taking these curs to heel.”

Fu put his eyes to the far distant [Spatial Array], almost disappearing as hostile Qi began to flare. “These cultivators are the lesser of two dangers, Shaokang. Put faith in this.”

The man saw how short the distance had become between their parties. “Acceptable,” he grunted, and bowed.

His body was swept away amidst a light and wayward breeze.