Rapt ears, eyes and all. Attention plagued Fu as a shadow, if not in the same proximity. For each passing of ten strides he encountered the listless fifteen, an unkind moniker, perhaps, and rife with judgement.

Yet he crossed the deck, and several still gazed upon the rushing clouds. The interior hall, replete with wind-styled whorls of teal patternage that followed a grand ascent to dormitories where their vessel’s old owners might once have slept - here were a handful within their lotus positions.

Cries of training travelled more as whimpers in the spacious hold beneath deck. A matted area wherein a curtain was hastily drawn.

Antiquated training dolls that Fu mused could be described as such for no martial warriors had once roamed here. Merchants, scholars or a transport ship for messengers or otherwise. All that he saw of weapons and training implements appeared as afterthoughts, although the remainder was stately and tended.

Sleep had bolstered his duty. The remembrance of such.

He held responsibility to these initiates, for he was no fledgling himself. A mock disciple in one half, yet more, a finger upon the arm of Ban Bingbai.

“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?”

Master Ban’s wisdom within the [Twilight Lotus Expanse].

Uttered through a voice not his own, nor of human tone, these long-distant words stirred Fu’s [Core].

Gratitude, old master. To hear your voice with such frequency is joy.

“All said before is prelude to a greeting. The [Tribulation] you face. What interest comes, what duties, what Paths to see. Tend well now, youngling. Fret not. Our way to eternity is not waylaid by straightening one’s house.”

It drew silent looks as he bowed mid-step, allowing the Old One to fade into his rearmost consciousness. To his [Conception Vessel], perhaps, for this latest accomplishment had yet to be mapped.

“Initiates,” he greeted, meeting three already in bow.

“Senior Gao,” spoke the boldest. A youth, as all were, and of Vajra heritage. “These initiates stand ready for orders, and await them willingly.”

Fu’s lips thinned. “Forgive me, initiates, but I have yet to mark what merits readiness. Have you consulted with initiate Anfang? Her measure of [Qi Suppression] is something to weigh progress against.”

This was apparently a novel concept, for each there showed surprise.

Names, these will come soon.

“We did not wish to trouble initi- our senior, Wu Anfang,” corrected the second.

“Then I will set this bar for trouble now,” he said, and bid them to rise. “Show me what progress you have made.”

Three efforts at [Qi Suppression] were made, and evoked thoughts of Yunhan. For how would he show disappointment without inspiring hatred at a thing so evident? But he allowed the first mistake to persist, and probed.

Brother Hushi, be gentle.

Fu descended into a basic stance, telegraphing each motion as he advanced. A strange thing to leverage, this social pressure, but he knew well how a senior’s mere presence could have one shrink.

The first maintained, while the second’s broke as Fu’s finger gently met his shoulder. It was the [Spirit Serpent’s] suppression upon the third that broke, unnerved by the form closing towards her partner.

Footfall approached as he drew back, embodying the eyes he had felt upon him past his waking. Fifteen was the sum total to exclude he and Udvah, and far less now rushed to bow beyond the hall’s entrance.

Anfang knelt at their head.

“Senior Gao,” she greeted.

Is beginning not always the hardest part?

“Initiate Anfang, I would have one of your number fetch the remainder. If disciple Su Sai so wishes to join, he is welcome. Please, make this known.”

Delineation between the vocations showed as it had before, presenting front and center before Fu some few minutes after his call. The vessel was left in Udvah’s care, as he was so informed, and noted by his absence.

But all others met his previous command, and stood arrayed.

Alchemists, potential ghosts and those on the Path of [Arrays] undertook his small test, yet only three beyond Anfang, Pinxiu and Aarushi had found insight into what the [Clouded Ghost Arts] truly entailed.

The technique necessitated constant use.

Fu furthered the training, compiling all that he thought relevant. His first pressure, then swifter strokes through which few maintained. An [Intent] of gentle warmth, and the singular wash of his [Dao of Suffocation].

One aspect is marked.

A certainty rose that this one was of the highest priority, for even with this vessel the Heavens were never known for kindness. All might be washed aside in an instant. Thus he drew on Ban Bingbai next, and the [Four Directions Tribulation Array]. Foundations on which his own senior held in the highest regard.

Martial [Prowess] came, and the fledgling ghosts showed promise where the others did not.

[Intent] proved the opposite, flushing a redness of cheek over those who might have thought their strength of greater stock than mere [Pill] makers and thought-filled scholars.

The [Dao] graced few on either side.

He withheld judgement as he passed the increasingly weary ranks, answering their silent pleas to stop with slight acknowledgements that granted no respite. “The standard is set,” he said, presenting once more. “Know this, initiates. No blame is presented, nor judgement levied. Talent - those peerless geniuses beneath the Heavens - they are the few that might extole all virtues and all aspects of what the Cloudy Serpent Sect desires. Here, you will strive to meet that expectation.”

That susurrus he had now begun to loathe rose once more, and yet, Su Sai took a marked step forward. The exception to these tests, though his voice had not risen to give reason to it.

“What leave have you to mutter as children?” he warned. “Recall now that you’ve no association to serpents. I’ve seen among you signs of heritage, or favor, connections that have allowed you to partner with our vaunted [Spirit Beasts]. But if you spurn the minimum of what’s required- my Fennu will show you a true serpent.”

“Plainly,” said Fu. “All here will know these Paths. From martial ghosts to those who allow us to tread as we do. Each among you will hold this foundation, first of the [Clouded Ghost Arts], to be used in perpetuity. Second, of the Martial path, for these lands are no friend to any, and beyond. Though none here can progress if their [Qi Suppression] is not first attained.”

A look shared with his heads had the crowd disperse, yet left five when even they had moved from the hall.

“Senior Gao,” called the first, and previously boldest initiate. Bowed once more. “If these initiates might be bold, they would know of their progress. Are we not ready?”

A good time, brother.

Hushi blurred by each, appearing from the air itself to swat each atop the brow.

The abandonment of [Qi Suppression] and the minor cries that followed… Fu thought them an adequate answer for now.

🀦

A sparse library, detailing a series of charts and histories. It was only Pinxui that spared a glance inside, already knowing the contents. Anfang focused solely on leading the heads to where Fu sought, bypassing all rooms that he was certain to know in time.

Last came the pavilion, serving as jewel to their warship’s crown.

An open-air space, yet touched not by the gale in passing for some manner of foreign [Array] negated the forces of pressure, wind and weather atop the vessel. A design that held in similarity to those within the Clear Sky Empire.

Udvah stood poised at the balustrade separating this space and the rushing clouds, and there he palmed the green tendrils of small plants that hung about. His bow was keen upon Fu’s entrance, as was his curiosity clear as the others gave chase.

They arrayed once more, with Su Sai blessedly absent.

“By vocation, few would openly speak upon the Clouded Courts,” Fu began. “Whispers persist. Tremors in the hearts of those that dare betray the Cloudy Serpent Sect. It is fewer yet that know of their workings.”

Pinxiu, Aarushi, Afang, and their respective [Spirit Beasts] stirred mutely, perhaps sensing that a speech of import was to follow. Yet, how Fu’s [Dao Oath] churned against his intent to speak somewhat choked the occasion’s propriety.

A vexation in how this was the matter to be addressed.

“Brother Udvah and I are the sole remnants of our Sect among these realms. To say otherwise is to hope for fire without first cutting logs. Thus we act accordingly. If we are to progress, it cannot be without open speech. That is my first thought.”

Pause came as Udvah was called forth, a shared understanding between them.

“Amituofo. This disciple shares such thoughts,” he said.

“Much is thrust upon you each. Pinxiu, it must be said that my reliance on you is a toll without compare. To lead two vocations, maintain your cultivation and to achieve the standard that I set below,” Fu dispensed a full bow, allowing Hushi to descend and offer the same gratitude.

“Senior Gao. To receive honor as you offer now- The burden is nothing,” she returned, and a blush overcame her pale features. One that spoke of hours away from the sun, a telling trait for scholars.

When Fu’s bow finally lifted he saw how genuine this statement was. Equally, for it was shared between all heads.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

A blind pick has returned me diligent initiates. Yet, this journey is young. Will their natures be revealed in time? In peril and through fire?

“Gratitude. Yet there is a final burden not shared until initiation is complete. It-” Fu’s [Core] constricted, for these secrets were not for mundane ears. Potentates were no full serpents, and as such he gasped air through his nostrils to bear this burden. “I am below my betters,” he managed. “Below those that might adopt you fully.”

The sky-blue [Spirit Lizard] at Aarushi’s sleeve went erect, poised on hindlegs to taste the nature of his discomfort.

“An oath,” the doctor offered, dawning much realisation.

Udvah rose in Fu’s inability. “Amituofo. This disciple might share only that senior Gao Fu holds position enough.”

At this utterance, Mangalam squirmed. Similarly constricted.

First to bow, and first to glean what Fu intended, Pinxiu knelt. “On my [Dao], I, Wen Pinxiu, swear to follow Gao Fu…”

“Myriad are the words beneath Heaven. Bind loose around your role. Not to serpents, but to those who gather clouds.”

Swiftly cut, Fu interrupted. “Not to me. But to this nail of the finger I am.”

“To Wayward Winds.” All looked to Udvah at his statement. “Amituofo. By the [Dao], that is how this wandering seeker might pledge. To offer words of loyalty as a ribbon that comprises one whole, to join your intents with those that serve the Clouded Courts and be moulded as the ghosts you might become.”

A mildness of gold flocked as Pinxiu undertook this vow, and the ambient Qi sung in response to touch upon Fu’s [Core]. Some peripheral weight, for Udvah’s proffered oath left much in question and much, not.

“Gratitude…” and Fu tested his bindings. “Disciple Wen Pinxiu.”

Sixty First Aarushi’s came second, and this welcome was repeated when Wu Anfang completed her oath.

“I have asked much of you, disciples, strangers as we are. Here, within this space, you have leave to return the insult. Ask what you might, and know few things stoke my ire. As is only fair,” Fu said, and moved to rest over the balustrade. His stance, open.

The [Spirit Lizard] atop Aarushi met his side, matching his gaze into the clouded expanse.

Bold, or friendly. Shuidi, Hushi, you must tell me later what you make of their partners.

Gracefully, Aarushi joined her Bond. “Senior Gao, this sixty-first rate daoist would ask on her appointment. My studies overlap between alchemy and [Arrays], if focused solely on the medicinal aspects of both.”

“Where best would your talents lie?”

“If it pleases you, this one would stand aside sister Pinxiu. Without injury these hands are idle, and best dedicated to the ends that senior Gao intends for her juniors.”

Fu nodded. “Then I am grateful for your words, and ask that you fulfil this role as you see fit.”

Strange then, was Anfang’s sudden shift. Of posture, for it swayed to put a hand atop her hip, and tone, for this turned fiery and dismissive. “You’ve named me disciple, and yet for what purpose? What merit is there in this promotion when it was drawn as sticks are?”

Personalities revealed. Let us hope she is no Niwai… as she was.

Fu expanded his [Divine Sense]. Cruelly. His effort occurred stationary, and beneath a neutral smile, yet he shaped the intent of it to needle upon Anfang.

Aside him, Udvah winced, caught by the reaction to his own [Constellation Seed], but weathered it far better than the fresh disciple.

“Talents, of a kind,” he smiled. “But if you would allow secrets for now, I will reveal more soon.”

His pressure abated as she caressed the [Spirit Spider] on her shoulder, its legs nigh crumpled beneath the weight of his searching.

If a reaction was drawn from the others, Fu ignored it. “Disciple Pinxiu? The limit is not one question, but I would not favor one disciple over another.” he called, finding a frenetic energy had overcome the woman’s speech.

“Resources,” she burst. “What reserves we hold, from where will you draw these tomes to progress the Wayward Wind’s collective [Prowess], what materials the [Arrays] and alchemists might draw from, how we are to organise the training structure, what allowances are afforded we disciples, when and if-”

The [Spirit Ants] are well suited for her, no?

Shuidi seemed enamoured with how they swarmed about her.

“-for the maintenance of unfamiliar Warship [Arrays], and how long we might go without resupply?” she finished, seemingly in a single breath.

Udvah’s laugh cut across all those staggered by such an onslaught. “Amituofo. Disciple Pinxiu should take care, or this ship might sink beneath the weight of such words, no?”

🀦

The [Array] initiates twinned to study their Warship held greater eyes than stomachs, or so Fu mused in passing. Slick upon them was the grease of hard labour: with near-abandoned hanfu for the heat of their efforts, and evident strain in dirtied brows and pallid skin.

Sonali, a short-tempered Vajra of [Spirit Crane] partnership, and the quiet Xiong, whose diminutive [Spirit Cicada] seemed ever oppressed by the flailing beak of the former. Yet as senior, Fu masked what good humour the scene- and that of his recent successes- afforded, and merely observed their efforts in steering.

To sail a Warship required the tethering of Qi to the vessel’s [Core], and in oversight it appeared that without the relevant intent of permission, Fu had them trying to bleed water from stone. Palm-placed, he did so now, demanding the ship allow them to steer.

He did so cautiously, however, for handing control of the craft to unknowns flew in the face of his instincts.

[Foundation Realm]. Their cultivation matters little if I cannot reach them. Might my [Dao of Wayward Breezes] work if they are a thousand li away?

“Low,” he said. “That is all I ask.”

Swift nods followed, improper as they may be. Though Fu had already crossed the threshold to meet his fellow disciple. “The days are early, brother Udvah. With order in mind, perhaps I might have your watchful eyes remain.”

“Amituofo,” returned the grin, and Mangalam rumbled forth a croak of affirmation.

“My [Senses] spoke of a prior conversation, fulfilled,” said Fu. “Of late I have said this often, but when time holds we will speak on it. The treasure.”

Again, Udvah grinned. “This disciple of wayward winds believes it will be to senior Gao’s liking. Amituofo. Another matter of [Karma],” then he dispensed a parting bow. “May your path be dull and full of fools.”

Short moments brought Fu to the deck’s edge, riddled in inky blackness. To clouds, Ill-penetrated by the moon or what thousands of lights burned below.

Here he did not lower the bridge, and drew his douli lower before plunging into the wetness of darkened skies.

Resources.

[Air Resistance] granted by his cultivation denied the screech of raging wind against him, and instead he merely surveyed as he plummeted many hundreds of li below. Closer to the structures- the compound that had caught these… Wayward Winds’ eyes.

Udvah’s talent for naming is something to be considered. A fitting title, I should think.

Fu refocused.

The lanterns below enlarged, and in their spread of orange light he saw all he was to navigate upon arrival. Unlike the grounds of a Sect, this structure held no gardens or entrance, well separate from the institutions of the Clear Sky Empire. In place, he saw architecture like that of a pagoda, a many story-tall tower with tangerine-hued arches and slate.

If grand, and stone where wood might normally support.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

A simple conjuration lashed him through the winds to perch neatly atop it, and here he surveyed once more.

Aside from orange, and all that encompassed that March or caste

as Pinxiu had offered, the politics of the Empire was unknown. Was this Sect or home? The container for an alchemical [Array], or a mere office?

Without investigating they could not know, and yet, Fu mused that any structure of this size would hold some value. Perhaps even that which he sought.

Shuidi, might you search for any [Arrays]?

The [Spirit Crab] complied, impressing an-often truth that Fu had discovered through his shaded deeds. Few bothered to defend at such height. Instead, all that might deter him was inscribed upon walls and gatehouses far below.

He entered the closest window, open to cool the middling [Spring] heat - unlatched and unwatched.

Muted snoring sounded from the bed within, a plush affair covered by three quite robeless men. Limbs entwined with little of the bedsheets covering their propriety. Fu valued the deepness of their rest, noting only that the central figure held any semblance of cultivation.

Peak [Foundation]. No grand height, yet how they are draped upon him suggests he holds some authority. Is he their Sect Leader? Patriarch of this unknown holding?

Fu moved beyond hastily discarded hanfu, two of red and one of orange, and conjured a thickness of Restful Slumber draught through his [Hundred Poisons Synthesis]. Yet it was Shuidi that guided his small manifestation, aiding as small puffs of [Mist Qi] expelled from his fingertip to transmit this poison.

The stock in his [Core] plummeted.

Gratitude, sister. In time I will grow into this oddity of fledgling Qi manifestation, though I am ever blessed for your aid.

Sleep assured, Fu pillaged all the paperwork he might find. Open letters upon the man’s distant desk, the few tomes upon his shelves, and a vast quantity of displayed weapons. If singular in design.

Spears.

Hushi blurred then, a teal streak that did not so much enveloping a falling [Spirit Fox] as cradle it to the floor. Fu swiftly looked roofward, and saw the remaining [Spirit Beasts] at rest within the eaves. Birds, each, and those with steady footing despite their rest.

Then he returned focused to the mounted weapons. Fineries of wood covered the entire wall, decorated in such fashion that ten were arrayed at the base and each row thinned as the number ascended as a triangle might.

Irregardless, Fu pillaged them all. The time to examine was not now, despite the precious look of that which displayed at the peak.

Further.

As Fu descended the inner workings of this tower he saw the apparent laxity of its disciples. It transcended the expectation of safety that previous, varying infiltrations had shown. None patrolled, nor stood watch at chokepoints. The sentries he noted were those asleep or cultivating in patches of thick [Dark Qi] or beneath blazing lanterns to draw the ambient [Fire Qi] or smoke, as some wers shown.

It drew him to ponder as he skulked among rafters and blurred over the bannisters of a large, central staircase.

From floor to floor, from dormitory to the seclusion rooms on these upper levels…

Is it this Sect, or the [Mystic Realm]? Or indeed, does this Empire hold no foes? To have all so at ease.

A near struggle occurred when the Sect librarian turned as Fu’s [Hundred Poisons Synthesis] dispersed from a fingertip, but Shuidi merely intensified the Qi within.

Both she and her [Spirit Owl] collapsed under its weight, succumbing instantly so they might be caught before alerting all through a clash atop the carpets. He withdrew her ring, and what charms decorated her body before setting her down naturally.

Her face, crumpled in the characters of a splayed book.

Indeed this meagre place held no comparison to the trove beneath the [Green Blight Bastion], nor was it organised as such. Hexagonal stacks held middling scrolls within, heaped simply with only vague categories to denote their purpose.

Without a talent in reading, Fu only glanced at the contents of any that might hold worth before vanishing them within his ring. And moved on.

Imperial [Array] Construction, Foundation. Spiritual Herbs of the Red Marches. Doctrine of Imperial Hierarchy.

A few titles of the many reaped that he took interest in before stalking deeper, bypassing a simple [Array] that sought to bar entry to the distant stacks.

Hushi reduced it in five strokes.

Imperial Spear Arts, Orange. Spear Formations of the Abundant Path, Orange Series.

Fu was hesitant, but thorough. Queer, it seemed, that the techniques would be delineated by these castes, and he mused that the implications were best saved for Pinxiu’s scrutiny. His rampant thievery continued until the furthest wall was reached.

At a glint impressed to him as a cousin to some manner of [Concealment Array], one that fell swiftly to reveal a solitary tome set within a hidden recess. Some mirage of wood that tickled as his hand drew it forth.

“Spread wide, so I might know.”

The [Old One’s] urging had him study each page of this heavy, nameless tome. If swiftly. Each diagram within presented telegraphed forms and patterns in which one might circulate their Qi, leading Fu to ponder if it was akin to his [Stifling Stream Revolutions].

Fifteen breaths passed before he closed the tome and stowed it for later use.

“Regret. Shame. Newfound things. I relay these to you, youngling.”

With closed eyes Fu’s [Senses] bristled through the [Dao of Wayward Breezes], an expansion that had him search for a single stream through which to vanish.

I would ask on this, old master. To trust my soul, these are no things for you to feel.

“Regret, for the time to consume this tome is inadequate. An incense stick’s worth. Is this not shameful?”

Fu shook, tethering himself to the wind.

A clutch of hours, old master. I shudder to think what you know as grand, if this meagre time is a course for regret.