Few with adequate backing make ill-suited choices in regards to split [Affinites], but this humble doctor understands that not all men are equal. Education is no right, but a privilege, and herein lies knowledge that might aid those without.

First to consider is [Qi Deviation]. Hard is the Path, and complex, that incorporates elements that suppress one another.

[Fire Qi] and [Water Qi]. [Earth Qi] and [Air Qi]. What concept aligns these is for the cultivator to know, for few hold insight into a Path more than he who treads it or has tread it before.

Yet [Steam Qi] is the former’s composite, depending on various environmental factors. [Season], to some some extent. [Yin] or [Yang] imbalance. [Dao] understanding. Simple diet plays in this were the [Spirit Beast] of natural habitat and no grass-fed [Spirit Core].

Naturally occurring [Affinites] of this type - of any - exist beneath the Heavens. But this humble doctor will address these as split.

As two individuals that bond possessing the differing [Affinities].

In such a case the cultivator’s [Affinity] does not begin as composite, and only equilibrium in one’s cultivation will further the harmony between each.

“The Whimsy of Composite Qi,” collated teachings by the scabies of [Humbled Divine Doctor]

Two days had passed without incident, and training returned with its usual regularity. By all accounts, Ban Bingbai was no demanding Master.

His star-patterned screen remained open throughout sparring sessions upon the central mat, and in opposition to his previous words on mentorship and students, he shared occasional wisdoms to each of the disciples in turn.

Done with a smile, and in passing while he leafed through myriad documents upon his desk.

A kind overseer, mused Fu, and one that he felt a dangerous appreciation towards. This unparalleled immortal that represented all that had put his family in jeopardy.

These bouts were revelatory in regards to Shuidi and her abilities. [Mind] centric, as her Path suggested.

Thus Fu now wove from Zhu’s tong fa, slipping back through the fugue of mist she had created. “A close thing,” he said.

“Shuidi’s [Clouded Ghost Arts] are unrefined, but the aspect of [Body] and [Inner Qi] isn’t lacking. I can’t detect her [Core], nor your own. All but her [Qi Manifestation] is undetectable,” Zhu returned, blowing the mist from his face.

“Similar to my [Half Cloud Step]. The clouds created are not concealed beneath suppression, and limit me.”

“It’ll come with study,” mused Zhu. “[Light Qi] and [Air Qi] are inherently different in composition, so I can’t aid you. Anyway, I’ve a desire to stop. The moisture has turned my hair damp and unforgivably poor.”

Nestled upon the topmost toggle of his Sect uniform, Shuidi drew her approximation of a lungful. A distinctly powerful draw that syphoned the lingering mist into her diminutive mouth despite her size, and returned the spent Qi in part. Some lesser degree that left her [Inner Qi] thinner than it had when created.

The Heavenly energy was not affected by mortal constraints such as size, nor volume. Able to collect within her [Core] with an amount equal to what Hushi might have collected were their positions reversed.

Both men put an eye to their comrades. To Linhua, a wooden training sabre in hand, her stance incredibly wide. Then to Niwai, who frothed with frustration some steps away. Sidelong glances shared.

The [Old One’s Whisker] identified Linhua’s subpar attempt at the [Imitation Footwork, Saber]. If needlessly, for Fu was the one to grant it to her.

“Master Ban,” called Niwai, and broke only into half a bow. “My own training can’t continue aside this. Linhua weakens us, and brings shame to this division.”

Lifting from his parchments, Ban smiled. “Disciple Niwai, before judging another one must look around their own house three times. If disciple Linhua’s bladework offends you, then by all means, instruct her.”

Their arrogant comrade had no doubt expected some punitive measure, and now wore an expression that only widened their Master’s smile.

“A saber and a sword- the difference is like that of Heaven and Earth! Our techniques are incompatible, and I’d debase my own training to share it. A serpent wouldn’t teach a worm to crawl.”

Ban Bingbai tugged his cobalt beard. “Oh? Yin Linhua isn’t preparing to sunder mountains, but merely seeks to learn how a weapon must be held. If this task is too much of a vexation then as your senior I should remedy it.”

So saying, Niwai’s twin blades appeared within the Master’s hands. Yet this was so swift that they may well have been there all along.

“Master!” she exclaimed. Parchment was within her hand.

“[Sea of Tranquil Grasses] [Foundation Grade] [Eternal Spring] [Martial Profundity],” he explained. “The Unorthodox Elders have scheduled this [Mystic Realm] for collapse by the [Season’s] end. I’ll expect your return well before then.”

The closures are ordered by the Unorthodox disciples? This seems of note.

Fraught with a tremble, their meekest member spoke. “Master, this Yin Linhua would ask for guidance.”

“Hah, you have yet to learn your Master’s pattern of speech. I was merely drawing a breath, disciple. Fear not. The task given is to retrieve a natural treasure there. Titled as it is, the [Mystic Realm] should have this show as a manifestation of life or similarly aligned concept,” he continued. “A blossom, petal or fresh growth that is unparalleled amongst peers.”

Both women bowed.

“I would require my blades, Master,” said Niwai.

Most in the room knew the answer to this request.

“Linhua is your blade, disciple. As sabres and jian are- as stated, as Heaven and Earth in difference, I’d expect that she and she alone can wield it. I’d have your hand to hand [Prowess] expand in place.”

“As you say, Master,” came the shared voice. One, perturbed and one a-quiver.

Fu held but two companions within his Sect. Niharika and Zhu. Yet he surprised himself to feel worry over Linhua’s state. While he doubted her personality was a mask, she held no allegiance to him.

She was still a cultivator.

The screen to their hall was closed behind them, and Fu felt Ban Bingbai’s continued attention. “This disciple would inquire on their own duties. Should the Master need anything.”

“The matters until the [Spring Equinox] are predominately administrative. Our Elder has granted me leave to choose the name for our division, if that interests you? Our records remain sealed within the Beggar Sect’s vaults, and I’ve little inclination to visit them for retrieval. Thirdly, I’ve to call forth our intelligence branch- the changes since my departure have left current affairs as murky water.”

Zhu conversed with Tanshuai upon his shoulder. “I’d offer Jade White Nimbus. If we’ve to be thematic with clouds.”

“Naturally, the name’s for internal use. Yet it must encompass our duties, while offering discretion in our goals. Inspire a feel of proficiency and equal parts respect, while other disciples might only whisper on its true nature. Jade White Nimbus is too vague, disciple Zhu.”

“Thousand Nourishing Star.”

“Here you fall into the trap of Masters across the Empire. To title techniques with numbers of little meaning. Often it’s only a representation of motions, possibilities or uses. The [Twenty Eight Standard Formations] is most apt, for it tells alchemists the truth without exaggeration. Apologies, disciple, I’d reject this name too.”

Where is this Master’s villainy?

Hushi, strangely, emboldened Fu to ask such a thing. Shuidi felt little on the subject, scarcely privy to all of their history.

“Master Ban is most open, to discuss this with mere disciples,” noted Fu. “Gratitude, for the honour.”

“Fu attempts to coax you to reveal your villainy, Master Ban,” said Zhu, and clasped his hands together.

Ban Bingbai burst into laughter. “Didn’t I just send your fellows into a [Mystic Realm] defenceless? Ah, but you’d expect me to curb nine generations of their family should they fail? No. Make no mistake, I’ve villainy for those that oppose our Sect. My show of reverence differs from those you’ve come to know, I take it?”

“It does, Master,” said Fu, truthfully.

He took on a ponderous look, and Guang gently stirred in the room’s corner. “The scope of failure here, for that’s what I believe you fear, is my disinterest. Lest you betray the Cloudy Serpent Sect, there are few troubles that proper application can’t restore. Lose a treasure, and you’ll retrieve it later at your own detriment. Endanger our mission through any means, and you’ll rectify it. If these mistakes become a tally, then you’ll re-enter the general squad hierarchy. But put yourself at ease, Gao Fu, Zhu. [Karma], and appreciation, bind us.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Words from an Immortal should surely be binding, no?Or is his deception well honed over hundreds of moons?

Once more, Fu bowed. “Gratitude, Master. I shame myself with such thoughts.”

“Think nothing of it. The path against the Heavens is unkind,” said Ban Bingbai. “But, such outrageous questions from my rowdy juniors must be dealt with swiftly. You’ll treat with the Beggar Sect, and suffer through their nonsense in your Master’s stead.”

“As you say, Master,” returned the pair.

🀩

Zhu had three brothers within the Beggar Sect, though none were of the Four Corners Prefecture, nor were they on speaking terms.

Clamped lips and a furrowed brow did not allow Fu to delve deeper.

In place, they traded words on idle things. Pointers on cultivation, or histories that neither had yet to learn of the other. Simple stories that whiled away the arduous trek towards the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s central domain.

“...and when I awoke she was gone. As the others were. I haven’t found a trace since, though I’ll admit that in my youth it hardly troubled me.”

Fu gave an amused smile. “I do not see a withered old master before me.”

“Nor will you ever,” cut Zhu. “But your point is made. I’d say adolescence then, though that hardly detracts from the story.”

Tanshuai crested the underside of Fu’s brim, and shook in teasing fashion.

“My own adolescence differed. Mei was the only woman to warm my bed. Had we not met I would have visited the matchmakers before long. I had no stock of servants to draw from,” he said, a faint warmth stirring within his cheeks.

“Later I saw it as a challenge. To see how swiftly I could rid the palace of staff before they were replaced.”

Well versed in the Yin then.

“Did sharing your bed not replace them?” he asked.

His friend’s plum-tinged gaze was set ahead. “The Axe replaced his staff each [Season]. It prepares you well for severance. As if the constant threat of assassination didn’t.”

I should not enjoy this [Plum Axe Zhu] were we to meet.

Hushi bristled in agreement.

Here they turned a corner, and entered an innocuous plaza. A tended garden of bridges, with a taijutsu at its centre. It held lawns, and intricate benches, upon which ranged cultivators of a younger fashion.

Couples, one and all.

“To speak of matchmakers,” nodded Zhu. Evidently done with the previous topic.

Wizened elder cultivators were set in patrol about the plaza’s edge, twinned [Spirit Doves] behind most, if not all. They took roost in the snow-capped blossoms, and roamed in such numbers that it allowed no break in the snowfall from each branch.

Fu spied the beggar clearly. A mound atop her lap.

This disciple of squalor, whose Sect rivalled the Cloudy Serpent Sect in scope.

“Noble cultivators,” she greeted on their approach. “Care to warm a poor mother on a [Winter] such as this?”

Before Zhu might spoil any introduction, Fu returned the greeting. “Of course, friend,” he said, and moved close to hand over a lesser spirit stone. “May this help your stomach ward off the cold.”

This denomination appeared paltry, given how fast her smile faded and how swift her attention turned to others within the plaza. It only returned when Fu withdrew a pouch from his robes- a discretionary fund gifted by their Master.

“We have come to warm the stomachs of more, if only we might find them,” he continued.

“If I didn’t hunger so, my legs might stand to guide you,” she said. “You’ll forgive me for offering such a pathetic sight.”

The presence of a nimble [Spirit Rat], energetically padding across the nearby snow was not lost on Fu. He lifted another stone from the pouch’s mouth. “When we find who we seek, surely they will be grateful to the one that aided in warming their own belly.”

“There is a man but three streets east that would be glad to be warmed,” she returned. “His lips holds a scar.”

Fu clasped his hands, and headed east.

Matchmakers and their prospective couples faded to the rear as they walked, and in turn the regular tide of crowds began. The prestige of residing near to the Four Shaded Spear reflected in their surroundings, for even one street grew visibly more affluent where citizens were concerned.

Another aid in locating the beggar in question.

Well aged, the man’s scar was no slight cut. Put ever more into focus as the pair approached, Fu saw how it cut from chin to brow. Infection staved off by merit of cultivation.

“Greetings, friend,” he began.

The man bowed profusely, and his ragged hanfu swayed in many directions. “Master cultivator! A thousand apologies, I did not hear you approach!”

“Think nothing of it, friend.”

A sudden cough crashed the man into Fu, where he dramatically turned to be cradled. “Master cultivator,” came his splutter. “This…”

Some ineffectual protest fell deaf as Hushi lashed an arm around the man’s [Spirit Weasel]. The creature, now choked as its small hands ruffled through Fu’s inner pockets.

Zhu hooked a hand on the beggar’s shoulder, and raised him to his feet. “You dare,” he said.

Would it not reveal his thoughts, Fu might have quirked a brow.

That is not a phrase he enjoys. It is rare that he feigns personality.

[Might] held the man almost aloft, his toes barely skirting the snowy ground. A mite lower, and he might have stood of his own volition.

Again Fu interjected. With a departure of Qi- a subtle, silent process, his [Hundred Poisons Synthesis] gathered droplets upon his fingertips. Slathered upon the same fingers that led this man from Zhu’s grip.

“Apologies, friend. The [Winter] chill has my companion here short in patience. He may have seen your [Spirit Beast’s] attempts at warmth as something dishonourable.”

Fear glazed the beggar’s eyes, and he wrung his hand. “Yes, yes, master cultivators! These streets are cold indeed!”

Zhu puffed out an intolerant breath.

[Poison Qi] had the man’s pupils dilate and he grew unsteady on his feet. “Forgive me,” he swayed. “I… this humble beggar…” HIs hand went to his brow, overcome in sweat. “What do the masters require?”

“We seek your senior,” said Zhu.

“This humble beggar has no senior, the… the… master cultivators,” he replied, and thrust an arm out for genuine support lest he topple.

Fu braced him. “The Beggar Sect is expecting us.”

“Ah, ah… yes. Then you will find a senior ten streets north. Outside the walls of the Silver Loom’s auction hall,” he continued. “But please… please forgive this humble beggar. [Winter] has indeed overcome him, and he must sit.”

After seeing the man to a bench, the pair left once more.

“It’s small wonder that Master Ban delegated this task,” sighed Zhu. “At the rate he moves this would be torturous.”

Fu half smiled. “An effective defence, I should think. To extort as much as they can at the same time. Shameless, but inspired. Were one of their disciples troubled, a seeker would not discover the location of another.”

The silence following this comment warned of Zhu’s mood, thus Fu turned his attention inward.

His training over the previous days was not spent idly. Consuming, at first, a great many of the Clouded Court’s poisons to reveal the nature and possibility of his [Hundred Poisons Synthesis]. A powerful boon, all things told.

Alongside the usual [Qi Transfiguration] and immunity, the [Constellation Seed] now stored a component of each he imbibed. Blueprints, perhaps, that he might draw from in the creation of his own.

Yet this was a vat, and no library.

The individual effects of poisons could only be added to his own brand upon consumption, and not called from memory. He had tested this with an Asp Paralysis Tincture, a Restful Slumber Draught and a Loosened Tongue Solution.

Fu could combine all three to be stored, and then replicated, or take only the individual effects. But he could not rid himself of the Asp Paralysis Tincture and then recall it once it was cleared from the core where it was once held.

Thus he had settled on the latter two until such a time that greater poisons were available to him. A combination to ease this current task.

Naturally, the Heavens laughed at this.

Seven more disciples fell prey to it before they found the one they sought.

An Inner Disciple, blessed with pox marks and rags.

She was stowed on the roadside below where an ornate railing separated restaurant customers and the slabs beyond. Her guzheng carried notes to the diners, and the skill alone must have allowed position for she was no treat to gaze upon.

The strings were stalled on Fu’s approach, introducing chatter to the air.

“A little bird spoke of you on the wind,” she said, hers, a nasal voice. “Of two cultivators that have business with the Sect. But I’ve heard nothing more. No intent, nor a name that might declutter this mess.”

“Greetings, master cultivator,” began Fu, only to be cut short by Zhu.

“The daylight is long burned, and I’ve no patience for riddles.”

“Plum eyes, but which one, I wonder?” the woman laughed. “Your kin are so numerous that they rival rats. Violence is all I know of you, boy. Threatening my juniors is no way to find what you seek.”

A thrum of power excluded the need for expanded [Senses]. Here sat one at the peak of [Core Formation]. Fu thanked the Heavens that Zhu was no impetuous youth, and had never acted on the words he so openly spoke.

The [Hundred Poisons Synthesis] would be fruitless here.

“We come at the behest of another, master cultivator,” said Fu. “Apologies, if we have offended the venerable Beggar Sect in any way.”

“Venerable? Do you hear that, Little Jiao? This one has manners.” The disciple addressed a space to her side, and a [Spirit Snail] made itself known. Flaxen, and barely aglow. “Name your benefactor, and we’ll see how much farther you’ve to travel.”

In place of this, Zhu withdrew a chit for the woman to examine.

“Ah. These haven’t been in circulation for some time. An aged benefactor then. The Branch Manager will receive you well for this,” she said, and gestured to her partner. “Little Jiao will lead.”

As Tanshuai was beneath his douli, Hushi shared her agitation with Fu. It had him take a sidelong glance at Zhu, but the man was well restrained.

Then it is the butterfly that cannot wait.

“I hold jokes in the same regard as riddles,” said Zhu.

The guzheng strummed once more, marking their farewell. Marking Little Jiao’s departure from his cultivator’s side, where he crawled at an unfathomably slow pace to the nearest alleyway and up the storefront’s rear wall.

Tanshuai might well have coughed blood.

But they observed, and the meaning for the [Spirit Snail’s] movements became clear. For there, intertwined with Qi-rich mucus, the [Dao] were inscribed. Resplendent characters of gold left in its wake until a formation was complete.

A filth that manifested the silhouette of a [Paifang], if by no Heavenly mandate. One that both ghosts strode through as [Spatial Qi] blossomed in the gaps.