It was not Anfang, Fu or Udvah that set his plan into motion, but an initiate yet to be named. One Bu, if he recalled, blessed with [Spirit Vulture] and an [Art] that had her dance atop the air currents as her current senior often did.

Nine ships were pillaged, and six were discarded.

Three through the prior realm’s [Paifang’s], thrown midway through their [Dao of Collections] process - enlarging as they crossed each threshold by the pendant’s power.

Two were forcefully expanded about the airy city wherein they had first arrived, raining havoc as structures shattered, streets collapsed and all about was rendered useless - unable to contain the swell of what now grew within.

One was set ablaze, the fumes acrid enough to darken the skies of their new [Mystic Realm].

“A waste,” noted Su Sai.

“We held no Warships before, there can be no waste if nothing is lost,” said Fu. “Yet if you would name it as this, for safety, know that for the state we so seek there is much more I would bring to waste.”

Of note was Pinxiu’s timely intervention, now a regularity, and she came bearing the [True Orchid Path] fragment for all to witness. “Four connections. Four [Mystic Realms],” she began, displaying the tethers between each star of this show constellation. “We stray from the [True Orchid Path], senior Gao, and are left with choice among two Marches of Orange, one of Yellow, and Red.”

Fu considered this.

Had considered, what eventuality might serve their cause best, thus he drew from Niwai’s ring with no hesitation. The small exchange brought a vessel into his foregrip, and the scholar of boat’s pendant thereafter.

The [Dao of Collections] blossomed as Hushi jolted the inscriptions with his [Inner Qi], spilling a profundity of golden light from the simple metallic pendant.

Sails breathed first, vast sheets of azure blue that unfurled not from topside masts but on the hull’s underside, paired smaller at the bow to then be mirrored far larger at its rear. Then scaled a simplicity of structures, no different from any mid-sized building within the Four Corners Prefecture, replete with slanted tiles and muted iconography.

That of rushing gales, patterned in the same lustrous azure.

And so Fu’s neck craned at its scale, for here he had secured his pilgrims a fitting place in which to recuperate. A vessel of such size that a hundred cultivators might stand atop the deck and worry not on the placement of any varying [Spirit Beast] at their side.

“Pinxiu, have two of your talented stand forth,” he said.

A brief exchange met his request, delivering those he sought.

“I would have you speak true, initiates, for fate thrusts much atop you already. Have you an interest in this Warship’s workings? And is this curiosity enough to commit to a Path of such until once more we are within the domain of serpents?”

Surprise again, in fresh susurrus.

What balance must a senior strike? This is a station that differs from merely leading as the Cloud Gathering’s vice.

Perhaps they would seek to take advantage of his current kindness, perhaps not, though it was a certainty that few within the Jianghu asked.

“Senior Gao, this initiate would sing praise at your heels for a hundred moon-”

“Senior Gao, this initiate will swear upon his [Dao Heart] if such a chance-”

Fervent. Let us hope their talent matches their zeal, for I hold none in these matters.

Disregarding ceremony, the scholar of boat’s workshop contents were heaped before them. Piled in tomes, diagrams and instruments the likes of which Fu could scarce begin to name.

“Beyond discovering how we might sail this vessel, these are yours to study at leisure. When time and duty permit. The priority however, is that you glean all you can on its operation, and report such findings to your senior.”

Pinxiu’s [Spirit Ants] bristled atop her robes at Fu’s intensity of gaze. Done, for these two eager initiates had not considered her. “Senior Gao,” she began, uncertain of what words may come next.

“Again I ask a world of you, initiate Pinxiu. To lead as the head of alchemists and [Array] practitioners both, it requires a breadth of knowledge beyond my talents. When opportunity strikes, I will speak with you to determine how this toll might be lessened.”

“Toll, senior? This honour surprises me only as I do not think myself worthy of it,” she returned.

Fu shook, and summarily disappeared at the end of a dim nod. A [Half Cloud Step] flashing him atop the vessel’s deck.

Were the initiates not so close he may well have gasped in awe. Indeed, Shuidid could not repress a gleeful puff of mist to see all that she did.

With an internal tug, Fu set his mental energy to filter through the [Old One’s Whisker], sensing all the paths this vessel held. What [Arrays] manifested, what potential hazards might be stored for misjudged steps and so forth. So it was that in swift steps he was drawn to a bright, gyrating sphere.

A [Core], if outwith a casting of flesh and blood.

“Hushi, Shuidi?”

Neither partner knew how best to proceed, or indeed what manner of treasure they now looked upon. But both descended that they might lend their [Senses] to the cause. At their suggestion, Fu elected to meditate at its side, folding into the lotus position some few strides away. Here, he could prove it, gently brushing the sphere with his own mental energy.

Again his [Intermediary Wisdom] rose, and again the ancient master within his soul fielded a litany of educated guesswork to inform his decisions. Close comparisons, for no [Array] or thing yet found within the Empire of Abundant Spring had a certain match with the craftwork of those within his Sect’s domain.

Ever do I rely on you, master. I fear my inadequacies reduce you to a tool or crutch, and I would not have it this way.

The Old One’s presence stirred as if a distant disquiet of coming thunder.

Inwardly.

Thus Fu gave chase.

Breaths led him to cultivate, in part, for he cycled all of the [Inner Qi] that breezed about his [Core]. A standard exercise, if nothing more.

Our Path of [Mind] stagnates, brother, sister. This is a thing to be rectified in the coming days. If safety maintains.

Soon resonance came through… a facet of this neglected Path.

Not [Qi Manipulation], for his talent in this was muddied and yet foreign, but the reach of his Qi - how he might sculpt and extend it to interact.

The Old One called through this. Whatever [Sense] it may be.

Limited to an aura barely beyond arm’s reach, Fu touched- brushed, reached for, connected to- the [Core] there, impressing his intent as if a hand held it firm.

It…required something of him, and so he gave. Qi, intent and some sliver of command. These nebulous forces conspired through his reach to cradle the sphere there, and he felt it spark.

Teal thrummed through the once-white [Core].

“Fly,” he willed, and a dull life crawled throughout the inner halls. How one might stretch and flex before preparing to leap.

In moments Fu had taken to the deck, where the sails and mundane filagree had shifted allegiance. No longer the clarity of pure azure of his first notice, but now a muted pastel to match his own teal [Ink].

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This swelled a strangeness of emotion into his chest, tackling both Hushi and Shuidi as they returned to their mountings. Pride? Success?

The ghost denied both, for only fools look to the stars when the tide might soon rush back to shore. So saying he placed demands upon the vessel, finding with ease where a gangplank ought to rest and commanded instead a great bridge of wood to descend from the warship’s railing.

All below… the initiates were stunned, and from his place above he saw disbelief foster. More than this, mild [Intent] had their relief palpable.

Hope.

Mangalam slopped first, so wearied that his hopping gait seemed more akin to spilled water than anything bestial. And so Udvah came second, at a saunter. The Vajra dispensed a wink in passing that dissolved any propriety his coming bow might hold.

Then he placed himself at Fu’s right, solemnly. “Amituofo,” he addressed, stamping his weathered gun atop the deck. “The wind waits for none.”

Those designated as ‘heads’, as ‘seniors’ or ‘worthy’ - Fu held not the position to grant titles of fitting representation - ascended next. In this, the ceremony showed, and insight into what hierarchy held true between all.

Su Sai and his [Spirit Serpent] held silent in their first position, standing sidelong to Fu and at a pace so negligibly distant that fresh onlookers might be uncertain as to who led this band.

Aarushi was second.

A curiosity warred in third place, for neither Anfang nor Pinxiu dared step before the other. Certain to be trouble, as challenge boiled in the postures of all initiates. The martial ghosts and their arrogance, the half-muted sneers that proved they viewed themselves above mere scholars and fledgling talents as stood across.

Fu wished only to lay his head, wanting no part in this until all had observed rest.

But such things should be considered, no? Factions within this singular group- I cannot have them form. Lest this charade break and my role is called into question.

Hushi’s impression was gentle.

Shuidi’s was fierce.

[Sixth Under Heaven’s] assault and all thereafter - it is fresh. Yet it does not cloud your feelings on this, sister, brother?

Strong emotions continued to pass. Those of belief and perseverance. No motes of self-doubt as his mind currently circled.

Outwith his notice, all initiates had assembled on the deck. It left the order of Anfang and Pinxiu’s junior’s ascension unknown. A small vexation, if at all. To have disharmony invited a sea of fire to already dangerous waters.

Save that…

Low there, were the heads. The maws, beaks and bellies. Each blade of vibrant fur, dishevelled robe and bloodied hand. As all bowed lower than Fu had ever witness towards one of his station, he pondered on it.

Sleep may yet bolster my sense of worth, brother, sister, but we shall see.

“Fly,” he commanded.

And the vessel soared.

🀦

The lantern above was lit, and he could not recall setting it to spark.

Yet, he stared.

Waves could not have it sway, and though he could feel the motion of this vessel, it was a subtle thrum. A true oddity: once that reconciled position, situation and role.

Upon the foreign sheets that had half-clad his legs for hours untold, or days, Hushi stirred to alertness. Focus dwelled within his gold-flecked eyes, and held there was a clarity that his cultivator shared.

Shuidi yet rested, her [Resilience] no bolstered thing.

“No task can be done if we remain idle, brother, and we have many that need attention. However, the need for selfish acts stirs within me, - these initiates, the thought of true leadership. We will meet these once our own Path is set.”

Sleep delivered much.

Whether fitful or true, an urge had circled his [Core] through this rest. Impressions that seemed an anchor.

He roused his [Spirit Crab] with a guilty thought, and withdrew the basket of pillaged [Spirit Fish] with a second.

Their scent alone had the ghostly beasts salivate.

“Hah. Peace, Hushi, Shuidi. These will not be denied, perhaps we will save it as a reward for this next step in cultivation. This sense, that I know you both to feel. Might you restrain yourselves until it is over?”

Both Hushi and Shuidi steeled their resolve, turning from the… regrettably placed fish upon his sheets. This score that leaked pungent oils atop the once pristine fabrics.

“Early [Core Formation Realm], at most,” he noted, reaping the first bloated [Spirit Core]. [Air] aligned as fortune allowed.

So possessing of his bloated [Pull], he palmed two, and crushed them to have the rapturous divine energies flood him. From the depths of his ring, where a fishwive might muse that dust was soon to gather, he then drew and swallowed one of the Sect’s [Qi Condensation Pills].

Another two cores.

The second pill.

Caution stayed his hand as his [Inner Qi] became more than a maelstrom, and the spirals refined by his [Stifling Stream Revolutions] grew to city-swallowing cyclones. Improperly shaped, his [Core] warned, for the tome refined the Path of [Body] and not [Mind] as he now tread.

A suitable foundation for the movement of Qi, at least.

At first the-

No.

This ensuing force went without measure, cleansing the [Impurities] within to shear free his second [Mind Meridian] in a span of moments.

Then on.

What occurred within was a thing barely able to be processed or tracked, and so he sought the anchor. The clarity that his rest had returned, or revealed. That necessity now forced for the formation of his [Conception Vessel].

This first bottleneck for those on this Path.

Its necessity had urged his sleep, if impressed by another. A distant thing, yet inward. Dire. Hopeful. Insistent. The itch, the voice, the-

Peace.

Fu tightened his control.

We must steady ourselves if we are to shape a mental space.

One breath turned his focus to the internal storm, and he wrested control from the wayward violence that held its form.

The [Qi Condensation Pills] held it compressed, easing his intent around its mass so he might steer it best where it needed to go. Into what patterns needed weaving and what rate it should travel lest he burst his [Channels] and rupture his [Core] forevermore.

Steer.

His wayward thoughts pricked, if once. For how might one steer a tempest?

[Air Qi] drew along insignificant motes of [Water Qi] with it, which Fu warred to keep at the fore.

Draw from our readings. From each tome, account and all that we have witnessed. It is no more complicated than that.

He needed to construct the foundation of a mental realm: a sanctum in which he could sink. The [Conception Vessel]. Where he might find the clarity to both cultivate and disambiguate the spiritual aspects of his Path.

Yet against this dreaded bottleneck that scions and daoists so loathed and feared, Fu’s heart was true.

The shape was known.

[Soul Gnawing Orchids]. [An Array in One Hand]. Shores and gentle tides that geld twin chains around his blossoming [Core].

Within him the violent gale then roared. All that had stood in its path, the [Impurities], the fray against his already imbedded Qi impartment of [Might] -

Eroded.

An inner chasm was entered, disparate from standard [Meridians]. Formless until the fisherman joined with his second and third souls, those entwined within him as they dared defy the Heavens.

Hushi, the vice. A wall and fist, limiting what [Inner Qi] might flood.

And Shuidi, the artist. This formless realm, her canvas.

The first grain formed, tolling no small tithe of Qi.

The second.

A teal sea that drew a copper tang into three [Senses], and drew Fu to swallow another [Spirit Core].

“Further, youngling,” resounded the very skies.

Quieting as the first sliver of a whisker coalesced.

🀦

If this could be marked as a step, then Fu viewed it as no more than the expectation of a lifting foot. New progress in a direction.

[Impurities] mired the quite rancid sheets of his bedchamber to spare no corner from their putrescence. A muck similarly stained robes and skin alike, and wormed cold down his spine through the sheer foreboding sense that [Or Perennial Shade] might appear if only for chastisement of his current state.

But his fortune was not so great.

Instead he fell into duty, first acquainting himself with all that cultivation had bestowed - and progressing to other duties only when an equilibrium was reached.

[Control] mitigated the labour of shaving with one arm, and Shuidi diligently sheared what remained with precise razors of [Water Qi] betwixt her pincers.

Then robes, - the ceremonial attire of Ban Bingbai’s gifting, allowing to discard the nigh threadbare uniform that barely held over him.

To don a fitting douli afforded Hushi a near ecstatic glee.

Fu’s routine held upon inspection of a tea table, central to these quarter’s second chamber. In pre-rest, he had assembled much.

Fulcrums each, for this state of drifting through unknown realms and Empires had him seek cultivation to act as his solid ground. His anchor.

But now he swept all materials into his ring, vanishing the bloated stockpile he had gathered for developing a special [Constitution] as his Master’s tomes would guide him through, and managed the priority of each minor treasure the Sepulchral Saber Sect’s hoard would bring.

His assassin stalker’s techniques, [Arts] and secrets - all to be soon practised.

To be perfected, no?

“If desired, youngling. So able are you now, to hear my [Wisdom].”

Fu offered his mental gratitude, twofold, for he allowed the Old One to return to rest. Gone, until he was certain that these initiates beyond his new chambers might stand free. Able to progress as he extended his own cultivation, knowing that no less than the Heaven’s effort would see him safely home.