The readings on Ban Bingbai had not prepared Fu for the man himself. An unfathomable existence that rivalled the peak of [Core Formation] cultivators, or those who had overturned the Heavens and now walked in immortality.

Nu Wa.

Yunhan.

[Of Perennial Shade].

[An Array in One Hand].

Cheng Rao was one such, but his path differed greatly.

As all paths did.

Where his once oppressor was a man of [Mind], of illusions and altered vision: a man of zealous loyalty to the Cloudy Serpent Sect and his betters - Ban Bingbai was not.

Now, he strolled through the avenues of the Lotus Blade Sect without care. On certain sights he would comment, and sigh. Yawn, as if the very act of doing so would induce him to slumber. But he did so mirthfully, and with no disdain for any.

With the Sepulchral Saber assassin laid upon the shell of his Guang, the [Spirit Tortoise], he soon found himself on the very steps from where Fu had witnessed the great lotus.

Hundreds of Lotus Blade disciples scrambled before him, unnoticed for now. Occupied by wounded fellows- men, women and beasts, stretchered beneath the canopy of their Sect’s namesake. All scorched to some degree, and tended by haggard cultivators.

“Tell me, disciples,” he spoke, addressing only those who clung in nearby shade. “Our Elder’s wishes. Some fifty moons prior there was an order to weaken what we might. Does this still stand?”

Fu, poised in the avenue’s decorative arch, spoke first. “These juniors carried out tasks that match this intent, senior.”

“A shame. We’ll have to settle for second-best then. There’s an abundance of treasures in this realm for the likes of you, plum-boy. Herbs cultivated beneath [Celestial Qi], secret techniques. But if we’re to put blame on this assassin you can’t be seen openly raiding.”

“As you say, Master,” said Zhu.

Ban Bingbai directed his index to a towering pagoda some ways distant. To put eyes upon it had Fu absorb the full scope of this master’s absence. The destruction wrought now that he no longer syphoned the ambient Qi.

A backlash of trapped abundancy.

All along the expanse’s outer rim lay in ruin. Crumbled, bleached or tattered. Sounds he had attributed to still-clashing disciples in the prisons to their rear became clearer, for the energies of [Celestial Qi] now ran rampant upon its edge.

These writhing serpents unable to be contained by what Ban Bingbai drew their attention to. The [Solar Redirection Array], as his bleeding nose intuited. Or a nexus of his brethren, as such.

“That would be of great benefit to you,” he continued.

“I appreciate the direction,” said Zhu. “But you owe me no insight, Master, and it would likely unmake our efforts here.”

Ban Bingbai chuckled. “It’s sad, isn’t it? Gao Fu. Niwai. That your fellow disciple, indeed, all of you, live by such standards. Owing. Debt. Exchange.”

“This is the way of the things, Master,” returned Zhu. “Few things are gained without another’s loss.”

“Perhaps my intentions fall short because you think of me as a doddering old fool,” returned Ban Bingbai, his smile one of playful menace. “That I’ve stood here flapping toothless gums as I feel the need to wax profoundly and debate the philosophical?”

A flutter paced through Fu as his friend returned a laugh. “Is this not what you do now, Master? Enemies abound yet we stand idle and chat as fishwives do.”

The man’s menace only grew. “Careful boy, I’ve a habit of blunting disciples with fangs. No, I say this as it benefits you. One of our Sect. Is this not enough?”

None of the disciples took his meaning, evidently. Then, before Fu’s eyes the pagoda collapsed. What energies it had fruitlessly contained blew outwards, showering the starscape in myriad hues of light.

Ban Bingbai proffered a gemstone to Zhu, tossing it so it might be caught. It marked his descent down the staircase, and into the courtyard beyond.

That was… The Master, was this of his doing?

An open courtyard offered no respite for assassins, and so the three flew across the outer edge. Those structures on the innermost ring of the Sect’s domain were largely untouched by the [Celestial Qi’s] rampancy, yet crumbled mortar granted Fu a look at the unfolding scene.

Lotus Blade disciples swept forth to face the oncoming man, impatient in the face of his purposeful gait. The usual cries flew out; of challenge, warning and outrage. Jians, already drawn, were levied at the rear of a single cultivator.

An Inner Disciple, for her verdant robes and [Intent] were both of indescribable quality. A tide at first, that soon soon materialised into a set of three floating blades. Their hue a mirror of the monstrous [Spirit Swordfish] that circled among them.

“What is the meaning of this?” she called. “Who are you, to walk through the Lotus Blade Sect’s hallowed grounds?”

Ban Bingbai spurned her with a shoulder, awaiting the arrival of his partner. “A victim, for this woman interrupted my penance.”

“I do not know your face, stranger. Speak plainly.”

“Oh? I’m just a man that believes in taking his time,” he smiled. “When this time is interrupted however, I become greatly disappointed.”

The [Spirit Tortoise] stirred some great resonance in the surrounding disciples, and Fu spied dread amongst the few inner disciples there.

“That.. that is the [Sun-seeking Sage]!” one cried.

Fu’s senior shook. “That name didn’t suit me,” said Ban Bingbai. “So I rid myself of it.”

“Only the Heavens might grant a [Dao Name], what riddles do you speak in, prisoner?” declared the forthmost.

But the man yawned in reply. “Ah, but if you begin again it may be changed.”

“Lies! To shatter an immortal’s cultivation…” this second voice quieted under Ban Bingbai’s growing smile.

He pushed the Sepulchral Saber disciple from Guang’s shell, and her corpse crumpled. “The Lotus Blade Sect are righteous, no? Or so it’s supposed to be. That they’ve allowed such a disturbance is displeasing. A nuisance. One that can bypass [Arrays], no less.”

“Step no further, prisoner,” warned the foolish, foolish woman. Without cry, she launched into a variation of the [Twilight Lotus Steps]. Her jian, so swift it went unseen.

Ban Bingbai’s neck bore the attack. A blade within his windpipe that punctured clean through. “This Sepulchral Sabre pest was not as brazen as this. You, my warden, would attack me? Does the Lotus Blade Sect have no shame?”

At his ever-increasing distance, Fu still baulked at the sight.

His body, it cannot be touched? How?

Myriad strikes descended to puncture the Master, drawn only from those boldest of inner disciples. Thus in a span of heartbeats Ban Bingbai was surrounded by three as they continued their futile attack.

“Tell this tale, disciples of the Lotus Blade. And do not bend it for your own purpose. Thrice I’ve suffered ingratitude for ending a threat to your Sect. An assassin came for my life, and this is no compensation. I denounce you, and relieve you of my care. Move aside, disciples.”

When they did not, they were gone. However three stars had briefly winked, and shadows then stained the ground where boots should be.

“G--r-reat ma-aster!” whimpered an outer disciple, thrusting both himself and his [Spirit Hound] to the ground in supplication. “We extend our gratitude a thousand fold for your benevolence. This injustice will never again occur!”

“Well, I’ve no plans to return, so you speak some truth boy,” mused Ban Bingbai. “But neither have I use for your platitudes.”

“The [Paifang], great master,” the outer disciple cried. “It opens only at twilight. Might we host you until such a time? We would seek to claim back what honour our Sect has lost through misdeeds!”

Master Bingbai smiled, and a wave of terror rippled through those gathered. “Ah, but the sun is such a trivial thing. No?”

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So saying, one rose.

🀩

The Four Corners Prefecture saw dawn break at a time it did not belong, for Ban Bangbai drew his…

Fu felt impropriety rise, and a hand concealed his grin.

What madness comes from a man that might conjure the sun? To have it lap at his heel like a common mutt?

Lotus Blade disciples fled from their patrol, and set blades against this monstrosity of light and force from the safety of buildings. The heavy window shutters that accompanied [Winter] yet remained closed, and none fumbled to open their latches, nor did doors push wider than any that cowered behind desire.

They simply basked.

Such pollution of their vision had the three ghosts flee to the skyline under its cover, where they took residence beneath the true shade of night.

None could pry their eyes from the scene.

Ban Bingbai was at leisure beyond the [Paifang], [Spirit Tortoise] at his side. Their forms dwarfed by a sphere of pristine cobalt. Few things were comparable to its enormity.

[Gleeful Viper’s] serpent might well have matched it. A flying warship the likes of which these Elder’s rode. Three atop another, perhaps.

Fu knew only that the Four Shaded Spear was larger, but again this was no mark of scale when one could not view the tip. Then Master Bingbai winked from the scene, and the darkness returned once more.

“Better judgement would mark this as a success,” addressed Fu. “But what remains to be seen are the consequences. Our task was no ghostly affair.”

Tanshuai landed on his douli, and settled beneath the brim. Her movements impressing some sense of admonishment.

“Bingbai moves as light does. The true consequences of this are wine,” said Zhu.

“This,” said Niwai. “[Arrays]. Sepulchral Sabers. The same with the [Spirit Spider]. An immortal Master of our Sect. It goes beyond standard expectation, I’m certain. Don’t I deserve the truth of these matters?”

Neither men nor beasts set her with a positive look, though Zhu’s was an order of magnitude fiercer than Fu’s own. “You’d ask for this, even still? The prison has me think less of you for the selfish words you spoke.”

“Selfish?” grunted Niwai.

“I can break through, was it not?” he said, coolly. “Arrogance I tolerated. Disloyalty, I will not. He doesn’t speak it, but Fu burns with this same annoyance.”

Fu fished a spirit stone from his ring. “Make no mistake, Niwai, Zhu knows my mind well. Though words of lotuses and keeping them at bay plague my every step. Nor is a rooftop amidst unfriendly streets a place for this. I would have you rally Linhua instead, and we will make for home before anything more is discussed.”

When Niwai made to retort, Zhu clicked his tongue. “Don’t fall lower in my estimations. My patience isn’t boundless as his is.”

This took her expression as if struck upon the cheek, and she left shortly thereafter. A swift descent to the adjacent rooftop followed.

The remaining pair waited, both clearly of a mind that their sister disciple would linger to eavesdrop upon the following words. It had them leap some few buildings distant to mount the crest of a sky-scraping storefront, where they settled out of the Four Shaded Spear’s bathing of gold.

Zhu drew out what lingered most in both men’s thoughts. The linchpin that had set a [Solar Redirection Array] to crumble.

“Proximity confirms it,” said Fu. “As if my own [Primordial Constellation Gate] recognized what it is.”

His friend handed over the gemstone. A glassy, iridescent kite, the interior of which waxed with threefold light.

“My own sense is faint. But it stands to reason, no? [Of Perennial Shade] knew we’d absorbed [Constellation Seeds] at our first meeting. Those in possession of them must be able to detect another.” Zhu’s eyes flashed close. “But I’ll admit I feel as terrible as you look.”

The [Constellation Seed] was handed back. Discussion of it, saved for later.

“Is this not the look of a sturdy cultivator?”

“You’re unkempt at the best of times. Half-beaten dogs have better tended hair, and that whisker upon your lip is altogether too thin to compliment the shadow upon your cheeks. Our Elder will cut you down if you’d dare enter as you are.”

Fu could only smirk. “Lest I die from insult first, brother.”

Ah. That was a mistake.

A series of three breaths passed without incident.

“Despite this, I’ve always viewed you as a sturdy cultivator,” retorted Zhu.

Curious then, was Tanshuai’s movement. An erratic flutter across Fu’s own clothes that put her within crevices and folds.

“And you-”

Zhu sighed. “Platitudes are not a thing I desire. Least of all from you. No. We’ve to use this time wisely. What’s to be done with Niwai?”

One of a thousand vexations.

In truth, Fu could not decide and so relayed all that had transpired beneath the [Twilight Lotus Expanse]. Her behaviour during the [Spirit Spider’s] trial, her words when confronted, and her actions throughout.

Fresh logs, it seemed, upon an already roaring fire.

“One mention of this and she’ll be put to the blade,” mused Zhu. “That her [Dao Oath] has not prevented this is lunacy. It’s sorrowful that one so radiant possesses such a vulgar personality. If not uncommon.”

“She is bold through arrogance. This might be corrected.”

Tanshuai settled upon Fu’s belt, and struggled through the half-open seam of a pouch there. Her cultivator arched a brow without remark, though this was done for a pulse of incoming Qi.

The resonance of their broaches stirred a look from both men. Fu felt three such effects, and ignored the sense of Zhu before him for those that approached. These vague directions that told where Niwai and Linhua now moved.

“Correction falls under the Squad Leader’s duties. He’d sooner discard her than have her learn. To let him have his way is less troublesome.”

Fu stroked the [Old One’s Whisker] until the resonance came again.

There is truth in this.

[Winter] had deepened its hold across the Four Corners Prefecture, and had set to thickened ice what had previously been slush and frigid pools. From the [Paifang] until the boundary line between domains, the clouds were angered, and furthered the cold in peltings of wind-whipped hail.

It had put the Warriors Association into a more feeble search than they might already muster, yet had those few that performed their duties well in fouler moods.

Fu had encountered seventeen such cultivators, and had grown tired from queries about suns, elderly masters and cobalt-hued [Spirit Tortoises] long before the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s boundary was crossed.

His composure had remained against such trivialities.

Though Linhua’s was ever more fraught as the Lotus Blade Sect’s territory grew further distant, and the [Winter] of [Winter] became lessened by [Summer].

For now the skies above were no angered thing, but mere frustration. Lighter shades of grey to dispense pillows of snowfall where before came lashing pellets. And there, moored upon many of these nimbuses were palaces.

“Warships,” stated Fu.

“This Yin Linhua has only heard rumours of them,” she shook back.

Clumped snow hung well upon them, but Fu’s douli blocked much of what might accumulate as it had on the disciple’s face. “I would guess this to be in preparation for the [Spring Equinox] tournament. Powerful clans or Sects. My vision is not so great that I can see beyond the skyline, but indeed, the roster must be grand to deliver such numbers.”

“Ten thousand combatants. Before departure this Yin Linhua heard it named as smaller than most years. As decreed by the Cloudy Serpent Sect.”

“Ten thousand is no small number,” offered Fu, finding that he did not mind the conversation. It passed time far faster than silent steps. “But I see that this is not what troubles you.”

Linhua pulled deeper into her robes. “Our Squad Leader will not speak kindly on the role this Yin Linhua played.”

“Did you act as instructed?”

“Y-yes, senior,” she breathed.

“Then I would not worry on this.”

Flight across the prefecture’s rooftops was unneeded for their task, and so here, they walked the streets as mundane citizens might. Even if diligence had split their group in two, just for added certainty.

Enterprising traders were upon the corners, or those of suitable [Affinity] to ward off the heavy snowfall. Traffic wound about them, as was normal. It seemed that Linhua shrunk from them in passing, her steps filled with averted gaze.

Fu pondered this whilst listening to the whispers.

They spoke in variations of complaint, or interest, and were brought as all things were- back to the [Season].

A father and son shared the road with them for an hour. Fate, placing them if not with the same destination, then the same direction. Fu found he did not mind this either, for as Zhu said, his conversations or circumstances had small chance to be mundane.

“...and what use would a man have for a sun?” grumbled the father. “To guide one home, yes, but such acts are done by those with a deficiency in their Yang.”

“As you say, father,” forced the boy.

“Praise the Heavens that your mother and I trade under the Cloudy Serpent Sect, son- they would not have such showboating villains appear on their doorstep.”

“As you say, father,” repeated this son’s favoured phrase.

“Yet their [Mystic Realms] remain open. If our governors followed suit we would have a closer walk to reap our harvest. These closures, they bring tidings as ill as the upcoming tournament. As if [Spring] will not be busy enough, now…”

A [Spirit Yak] tread between the pair, and Fu felt the cultivation of a late [Foundation] force within its [Dantian]. Noted solely as the dampness of its fur passed an awful stench on the wind.

And again when it brushed by his side, pressing his own sodden clothes deeper.

“Apologies, friend,” called the father, and guided his Bond’s horns to lead it aside. “Deep snow is no joy to walk across.”

“It is no trouble,” replied Fu, absent, for his gaze was above.

Snow continued to collect upon him.

“Senior, is something amiss?” asked Linhua. “This Yin Linhua apologises for-”

Further white cascaded from his douli as he shook. “No, sister. Nothing is your fault. Indeed, my legs are betrayed by weariness. Nothing more.” He walked on then, without further word.

For what might he say?

That there, poised distant in the clouds above where they were to return, was a memory? A warship that he knew, and could place with vivid recollection?

“Hushi,” he whispered, drawing his partner out. “I am no expert on these things, and it is barely a speck…”

An image rose in his mind, impressed as clear as day. One that spoke of a shared feeling, for Hushi now felt this… distant dread. This minute pang that he could not shrug, of eyes.

Patterned upon feathers, and blotched like azure ink.

The likes of which he was certain had spied him, alone, across the hundreds of li they had yet to travel.

The Heavens truly do not enjoy us, do they, brother?