The White Blossom Teahouse strove to work against Fu.

Flush rug-covered planks groaned, as if exhaling in protest when his weight was placed upon them. His cover, the trailing, silken sheets were defiant, and what small breeze they gathered buffeted in such a way that most on the street would see his skulking form.

If only they were to glance up.

With his ear pressed firm against the external screen door, Fu’s [Senses] returned nothing. Nor did it in the span of minutes he crouched there.

Being of mortal appearance did not deny the existence of several minor [Arrays] that might alert those within of his tampering, and so came his first gamble. In the minute gap where screen met wall, Fu traced a fingertip, and tugged.

A poor habit, to leave first story doors unlocked.

Hushi cast back the douli as they skulked across the threshold, taking care to reset the screen.

Here sprawled multiple shallow tables, almost swallowed by nests of plush cushions and silken fabrics. His entrance was clear, as it was until a staircase was met at the room’s far end, but much, if not all of the space was mired in cascading sheets.

Booths, perhaps, to grant an illusion of privacy with vibrant curtains. Though Fu could see well enough as he prowled, spying pre-set cups and further comforts through the sickly sheets. These shades of pink and red that evoked certain memories of gutted salmon.

Fu felt the fabrics drift into the wake of his passing, and endeavoured to slow his gait. But paused at the staircase’s base. It was a joining of two sets, mirrored entrances to both the above and below floors where another patterned screen sealed both.

Li Chengxi and the sleeping quarters will be above. Thus-

More of these defiant planks voiced their protests as he made his way to the ground floor, making it a partially sweat-slickened hand that had its screen open. A hair’s breadth, at first, so he might expand his [Senses] further.

A scratching of… diminutive feet. Claws. Beneath the rug-covered floors. Distant trilling as the breeze-caressed, exterior sheets touched on windows.

But no motion across the more mundane arrangements of furniture this floor held. Plain, if well crafted tables of wood that were bisected by a central walkway to allow the severs leeway to navigate to their customers. The vases and drapery, stylized depictions of blossoms, were inconsequential to his goal, despite how numerous they were.

Led by the spillage of ruby-red light, Fu wound his way around the tables. The room was ill-lit, but [Control] allowed him to tread amongst them without touch, or the sound even a nudge might make.

It was behind a high-slung counter that he…His ears pricked to a screen sliding above. Just as he had reached his destination. A doorway, more formidable than the previous, patterned entrances.

He took a glance upwards, and then back to the stairway.

Caution is best.

The sounds above were revealed to be footsteps, and a muted glow of light was descending where he had entered. A mutter of voices grew closer, sharp, in the ebbing pitch of laughter. And so he leapt, planting a single foot on the counter from which to spring high.

Few timber structures were constructed without adequate beamwork, either externally or internally. In fact, Fu was unsure if he had ever entered a building of more than one floor that did not possess such framework.

His bound brought him to one such familiar pillar, and [Might] afforded him enough speed that he simply sprung higher with a well placed foot. The wicked hook of his chain was drawn, and subsequently plunged into the horizontal beam he met, allowing him to stall.

A miracle for a fisherman, yet a paltry effort for one on the path of [Body].

It was here he hung, clamping his limbs tight to the wood while his weapon took the brunt. Flat, and inverted, almost insectoid in his splay.

“...till I return,” sounded the first of two voices.

“Please, sister,” called the second. “My bed already grows too cold without you.”

There was a pleasant, near melodic chuckle between the two women. “Sister this, sister that. You have had me on my back too many times for such an address.” The speaker turned sharply, her flowing robes washed in white by proximity to the other’s lantern.

Doubtless, this white masked the second woman’s blush, for she crooned as if bashful. “Sister Diwei… must you speak as this- you shame me.”

The one named Diwei took the woman’s chin tenderly. “Were these walls thicker, we might shame each other more.” They fell into each other, bodily, and it was then that Fu noted the dull glow of her [Spirit Beast], keen to escape the meeting.

A sky-tinged [Spirit Lizard], of matching size with a mortal cat, now ducking to settle beneath the closest table.

As if it expected to wai…

The second woman’s robes were peeled open, and in turn, Diwei caressed her exposed neck with palm and lip, trailing-

Beneath, the table legs groaned as the pair-

Fu further entrenched himself. Always had he fancied himself a man of some morality, and to look upon these lovers would sully this. Yet, he could not allow himself to be blinded, here of all places. At least-

He put his thoughts to Hushi, impressing that the watch would fall to him. And delved into maintaining his [Clouded Ghost Arts] amidst the… energetic noises that purred below.

🀧

Within the better part of an hour Fu was left with a solid indication of a [Foundation Realm] cultivator’s stamina.

Not solely informed by his own grip.

Though the Heavens sought to test him further.

In the minutes since both cultivator and [Spirit Lizard] had left, further voices surfaced. It came first as an opening door, Fu’s very destination, where Li Changxi had emerged in soiled hanfu. Some glint of residue upon the cloth.

“A success,” she noted, addressing the well-contented woman who now bowed before her. “I take pride in hearing the results of my tutelage.”

“Gratitude, Mistress.”

“Stay this course, little blossom. There are many who seek the whispers of the Lesser Tiger Palace. I enjoy this bashful facade,” she said, grasping the woman’s chin. But where Diwei had caressed, this seemed vice-like and firm. “Hmm. Go now, and wash, it is not so many hours until your other projects will arrive. I doubt they will enjoy her scent as you have.”

The woman gave her respects, and left as Li Changxi did the same. Yet- The Mistress paused at the door’s threshold, and Fu felt his heartbeat challenge the [Clouded Ghost Arts].

“This will not do,” she said. Her sleeve flicked, and motes of snow-white Qi wound out. A thread of this then flit across the room, tidying the displaced furniture born of her underling’s passion.

Fu did not allow himself to relax, but rather studied the entrance as she disappeared behind it. To his knowledge - an undoubtedly general thing - and small memories of conversations past with Grandmother Hua, the tea store did only as its name suggested.

Shelves, jars, sacks and the like. These were what he thought to be contained within, and were his previous goal. A lesson from Yunhan that Fu had intended to use to draw his target out. The destruction of supplies.

He dropped from the ceiling with grace, touching softly upon the floor. His [Teal Supple Physique] lending well to his quiet landing. Li Changxi was similarly silent as she went further into the tea store.

But from where Fu crept he could see the glow of her Qi, and how it began to pull shut the door.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The lovers’ intervention had lost him time. [Summer] was underway. In several hours time the Initiates would return, having his debt soar.

His [Might] delivered him through the frame not a moment after the yawning gap drew shut. So tight a space that his heel clipped upon the wood. The Qi was potent enough to slam him forward, throwing Fu from his balance.

Minorly.

While no expert, tripping was quite beyond him. He met the wood with his palms, able to bear his own weight with no trouble despite the inversion. Then, he fell into a prowl.

Hundreds of darkened jars stocked the recesses around him, his expectations met, in part. The store housed shelves upon every wall, ordered more as a looming library might with treated leaves packed to at least twice his height. However, it extended further than his initial guess. A glow at its far end pulsing from what he could make out to be a corner.

Hushi stole out, attracted to some of the jars. He moved in time with Fu, streaming across the ground as though he were a teal shadow and taking to the shelves.

Fu expanded his [Senses], urging caution towards his Bond. There was an oddity to the Qi here. Aside from faint odours, some lingering and others, leaking from poorly sealed jars, he felt fluctuations.

A tide-like pattern around the far corner.

Li Changxi- is she cultivating?

The revelation that she was a cultivator, well, Fu held little in the way of luck. As such he was not dissuaded from his course. It stood to reason that his mission would not concern mortal targets.

At the corner, he inhaled, readying his chain. He stole but half a pace, spying what lay beyond, and his hook was first to be washed in light.

A torrent of thin streams raged in the space before Li Changxi, snow-white. She stood, orchestrating her choir of moving energies in a space no wider, nor longer than the corridor he had just tread. But where jars stood before, Fu saw talismans and cores. Components where these streams began.

An alchemist.

At the woman’s fore rumbled an ornate cauldron, and the epicentre to the flashing lights. What contents were within however, remained unknown.

In perfect imitation of his senior’s lessons, Fu took three steps closer.

Li Changxi continued her refining. The energy abating, lessening in glow and scale. Fu had to admit, the sight was grand. For here she showed her mastery of Qi, which now bore the throbbing silhouette of a pill at its center.

Two steps.

The pill flared, solidifying in white as the cauldron’s vibrations grew to a deafening clatter.

He was a stride from her neck now, visualising where best to strike. A fast slice? A stab through the heart? No [Body] cultivator might tread the path of alchemy at [Foundation] such as she did, and so he wondered if it mattered. Her [Resilience] could surely not defy his attack.

Strangulation.

Cleaner than most.

Hushi warned him the moment that his hook rose to strike. An impression that cast Fu’s gaze beyond the array of lights and Qi. At the [Spirit Insect] expanding on the wall ahead.

A moth in purest white, clutched vertically to the wood and patterned with strokes of black. Ink-like, and to such a degree that it appeared no different from the paper talismans that held in several spaces about the room.

“I do invite you to try,” said Li Changxi, her focus still upon the refinement.

Fu heard the confidence there, wondering if it was a feint.

“You are the one that darkened my balcony several nights passed, yes?” she continued. “A poor attempt then, and a poor attempt now. Your experience shows.”

The [Spirit Moth] fluttered closer, covering a space of no more than six strides to perch upon the woman’s shoulder. An ephemeral glow of Qi binding its wings.

And more.

Why he recalled Adhrit and his affinity of [Force] then, was self-evident. For Fu was battered back by a screen of near-translucent white. A barrier, domed with the moth as its fulcrum, that arrived so suddenly he toppled.

He rolled, seeing that the Bond did not give chase, and lashed out with his chain. It flew to no effect, bouncing impotently from the Qi.

Fu drew it back, cursing.

Why does she continue? Is she disregarding me? Is it a ploy for time?

His [Senses] spread into the corridor behind him, yet he found the door to be as secure as when he had entered. No sounds drew from beyond it, at the very least.

“State your allegiance, assassin. I would know who seeks my head.”

Fu cowled himself beneath the douli. “Many seek your head,” he guessed. “Your dealings beyond tea have made you few friends.”

“You do not seem certain,” she scoffed.

Perhaps because this talk would lead nowhere, Fu struck at the barrier again. A second and third time following. This riled the [Spirit Moth], and it took to the air in a staggered flight. No clean angle or dive, but a flutter to nearby shelves.

Enforcing the barrier of [Force Qi] forwards.

Not a dome, but wings.

The conjuration, or [Art], became evident in seconds. For as the moth gave chase in fluttering fashion, great gouges were torn from the surrounding shelves. Passing strikes, as though whittled by unseen blades.

Yet torn was truer than cut, for this barrier ripped where a sword’s blow might be clean. And its influence dominated the small corridor with no room to spare.

Fu felt foolish, but saw his chance in luring it further. He struck again, and the beast sped from left to right, shattering and tearing more of its cultivators stock. The barrier persisted until it moved, he realised, though he could not see it.

This time he sent his chain far wide, a searching blow that he hoped would find where the [Art] ended and open space began. But it saw through this.

The [Spirit Moth] streamed in his direction, warding the corridor as it flew central between both shelves. Here, a surge of leaves entered the air. Jars burst into fragments, splintered wood blasted outwards and all manner of specks blew forth.

This speed surprised him, and Hushi landed to sling at his shoulder. No space remaining for him to cling elsewhere.

They burst around the corner in a roll as the [Spirit Moth] advanced again, replicating the store’s destruction. Leaves spilled across the floor amidst the great, grinding cries of breaking wood, ever-nearing.

In less than ten strides his back would be at the door.

And what then?

Forgoing what pathetic subtlety might remain, Fu’s [Intent] crashed out to meet the barrier. Brimming with the [Dao of Suffocation]. The force of his will blew as a gale, sweeping a gust of leaves and shrapnel towards his foe.

Yet still, it advanced.

A [Spirit Cultivator], if my [Intent] cannot breach this defence. Or…

He grimaced. The very assumption that he would face one on his own level- Foolishness. No rule stated that his target would be unskilled. Shown to be true as Fu was forced back another five strides.

[Half Cloud Step].

In an instant Fu leapt forward, and loosed his chain in the [Wind Phantom Strides]. But the weapon did not strike his foe. Instead, it swept.

With his suffusion of Qi the metal became a tempest, whipping currents forth to carry the detritus of leaves. A screen of his own that splashed against the moth’s [Art], and carried further, tracing the conjuration’s outline.

Fu sprung from a nearby shelf as the barrier scythed, a reflection of the insect’s beating wings. Two keen edges but a stride from his face, the air displaced, the Qi, radiating a sure strength.

But there, the leaves still clung.

A cloud formed beneath his sole, and he burst through the closing gap. Tight enough to shred his clothing on an outer edge, and the skin resting beneath. One shoulder, scored, whereas his opposite- and the octopus atop it, went unscathed.

Hushi swarmed outwards, engulfing the [Spirit Moth] in his mass. A jet in passing that returned quiet to the corridor. Save for two snaps, akin to a twig broken underfoot.

Li Chengxi’s scream was shrill, and louder yet as Fu closed. But he did not pause for words, and spun, cracking his foot into the side of her head.

The woman flew into the wall at her right, bloodying herself as the wood barely absorbed the impact. She fell, and writhed. Her hands searching where one might find wings, clearly agonised by the damage to her Bond.

Something passed from her lips that Fu could not hear.

As now the cauldron roared. He saw it clearly now, an ornate construct of strange metal and sparse gemwork. A secondary sight to the maelstrom that blew above it. Multiple hues. Li Chengxi’s white, interspersed with sickly greens and ocean blue, clashing in the air.

The Qi contained within, rampant.

Violent.

“I will have my vengeance,” Fu, finally heard. “I will have it!” Li Chengxi rose, steadied by the wall. A cough between words dripping blood down her robes.

[Force Qi] blasted from the space behind him, and he tumbled to the room’s far corner. Pinned with walls at his back and the cauldron at his fore. The warring lights burst out in similar pressure, spreading cracks throughout.

He leapt to the side, still bolstered by his [Half Cloud Step]. But stalled in three strides, met by an erected, translucent screen.

So he rounded, his chain flying towards the woman’s head-

An explosion sent Fu against the wall, and he knew pain then.

His breath fled through broken ribs, his head swam with blurring images. The world now a miasma of turgid smoke, choking emptied lungs.

He spluttered, managing to drag himself to stand. But the smoke raged, and what small sights he could make out were tongues of flame upon every surface.

Hushi.

Somewhere beyond it, his Bond called out. Their link impressing concern.

Fu fumbled his way forwards, meeting shrapnel and dust with his feet. A trudge, blinded, where he realised that his hearing was partially lost. Just a ringing remained, and intermittent bangs like distant thumping.

In half a step, he touched upon Li Changxi’s corpse. And diligently, knelt, finding his mission complete.

“-tres… ar… we-”

The attendants are coming.

That was the distant thumping. It could be nothing else, unless his heart was indeed loosened by his breakage. As it felt.

Fu’s next step was queer. The next, that brought him to Hushi, more so. Even under cover of this plumage, the thickened murk of smoke, he felt… hale. His [Hundred Immunities Fruit] was reacting.

Almost jubilant.

There came a shift in the [Air Qi], and he sensed an influx from beyond. A force that sucked his surroundings in a stream towards the obscured doorway ahead.

“Smoke, sisters!”

“What shall we do?”

“The Mistress!”

A cacophony rose in cries and splutters, coughs thereafter. He heard them distance from the hungry flames and encroaching cloud of [Poison Qi].

“We cannot stay here sisters!”

Fu stalked forward, unfettered, wrapped in this pleasant shroud. A half-smile held. He shared their sentiments exactly.