I hold grass in my hands. No blade.

Flaccid earth that fields no edge.

How foolish, to think I knew the Path.

Any Path.

He has struck down our Sect and I could not see it. He was before me, and I knew only that it had come.

The Matriarch failed him, for a junior’s sins are hers to bear.

No [Splinter] was delivered, as was his desire.

She…

Fu set down the tome, for his quarters had grown strangely cold. A sudden chill that Hushi tightened to warm him against. “None remain. The Sepulchral Saber Sect… Felled by this [Sullen Saber] over the omen we dare not mention.”

She could not please him. Her mind was yet mortal, consumed by love. This falsity that she could not fathom.

Severance is all he seeks, if I claim to know even a sliver of his heart.

To be rid of his, her shameful failures.

And so it will be. If I might gain his notice, I will purge my sisters.

Fatewilling, when my task is complete…

The Clouded Court Squads will burn.

Plum bastard Zhu and that menace Gao Fu will hang from their walls.

- scrawlings from Wu Min’s diary

Recruitment culminated on the fourth morning. Zhu’s own half roster- a duty undertaken by his own choice- held blackened scrawls through the names listed. Blotched ink for those that fell below his expectation.

Abrupt as he was, the plum-eyed cultivator’s selection had not troubled him.

An attitude that may well have taken hold in Fu, for but two names remained on his own. Two pondered over by Hushi, his arms tracing each character.

Fu hummed in contemplation. A dewdrop of [Mist Qi] wafting from his index. No significant thing, but an adequate exercise to bring focus. It dispersed at a thought, returning his attention to the list.

Moreso to the pair ahead.

The Silver Loom auction hall was prevalent in the Four Corners Prefecture’s more affluent districts. Smaller, if by no means lesser storefronts surfaced within several li one another, ensuring a regular presence within the domain.

Why purveyors flocked to this establishment was of some note to his [Divine Sense].

A [Constellation Seed], displayed pridefully and centrally beyond the pillared entrance. Mere glass all that guarded so vaunted a treasure.

“The nature of this changes,” he whispered.

Niwai broke her gaze from the queuing potentials. “There’s a way to measure talent from a distance?”

“If so, it is not known to me. One of the treasures we seek stands there. To know our senior, this would well take priority. Yet I am of a mind to complete both tasks.”

Of these cultivators, their [Realms] were disparate. That none of higher cultivation had laid waste to queue nor structure exemplified the Silver Loom’s reputation. The need for resources held common between all realms, and no fool would dare alienate a source of these.

Still, Fu measured those above him. The many.

With caution, we might achieve both tasks.

“It is sudden, sister, but have you consolidated your insight from the trial?”

The woman parsed her lips. Hesitant.

Inwardly, Fu grimaced. No progress would come were his comrade to tread as if upon fragile shells. “Spite me. Insult, berate and criticise. No welcome things, but accepted. If this-,” he said, eyes measuring her length, “-is all that remains of a better you, then I would ask for a return to disloyalty.”

Nested in her hair, Uktaka chirped with offence.

“Disobedience, perhaps. Apologies sister, I have misspoken,” he corrected, falsely.

Disloyalty’s mention struck her as a physical blow might. As he had hoped it would. Evoking a sense of their previous Squad Leader’s execution at her hand.

[Winter] rarely heated cheeks to a blush, but Niwai darkened all the same. “Then I’d say that your estimations of me are low. To think I’d struggle with that base [Dao Treasure]. You’d do well to put in your eyes.”

Shuidi impressed mirth at this. Something cathartic and warm.

For Fu’s part, he only rose. “Pursue any that leave with that item,” he said, leaving Niwai on the bench behind.

Four cultivators and four [Spirit Beasts] had lengthened the formidable line before Fu had crossed half the distance. A half-count, given retinues, lackeys and varying sorts of accompaniment that he did not number.

The intensity of their disbelief may well have burnt a hole in his robes.

With nose held at middling height, Fu had each step tweak his appearance. His gait, confident, his stature, higher, a pregnant sneer readied in the crease of his cheeks.

[Intent] had the air turn increasingly hostile, for none were willing to lose face with the Silver Loom by way of an overt attack. As such the force came passively, exuded as he passed the shoulders of many.

He could weather this much.

At eight strides from the entrance, he slowed to address the cultivators there.

These disciples are not under escort, yet I would not endanger their task with idle words. An acknowledgement is all I require.

“Oh,” he droned, maintaining disinterest. “Just when the Heavens had sought fit to rid me of you pair, they deliver another trial.”

In rich, tangerine hanfu, the women cast sleeves before their mouths. Laughter, dramatically suppressed. “Master cultivator-”

“The strength for this eludes me,” he cut. “Nor do I have the desire to stand in this frigid slurry. A magnanimous man, I will allow you to seek me when this business is concluded.”

The first of two, distinguished by quill tip-thin brows above her veil, stifled laughter again. Her sleeve of questionable use as it masked another demure chuckle.

[Of Perennial Shade’s] favour retained its use, for recognition flitted in the second’s snow-white pupils. “As you say, master cultivator. We appreciate such generosity.”

Fu did not spare a second glance as he strolled away.

Gossip was ever the valued currency, drawing ears from those that had witnessed the pair’s exchange. Even as the time until their meeting passed.

To their merit, these women swiftly joined the undercurrent of his pretence. Bandied words of association- of a cousin’s cousin, and an affiliation with a distant master’s brother.

With a choice between this pair, Fu found this raised both in his estimations.

Several hundred strides put all three in step before a set of tapestries, feigned interest worn on each.

“Time does not press on this task,” shook the first. He Ting, whose mien presented as rigid, inspiring some semblance of Grandmother Hua.

The second’s vacant stare differed greatly. “I would gladly abandon it,” she admitted to the tapestry ahead. “To deal with merchants has my skin crawl.”

“Still, I have caused you trouble. And further- for not only is this an interruption, but a request. Is your senior nearby?”

He Ting expressed her curiosity with a raised brow. Emphasised in sharpness. “An order cannot come tangentially, the chain of command does not allow this. Five in the Four Corners Prefecture hold our Elder’s favour, and of that, but two reside. Neither Gao Fu nor the plum-eyed Zhu possess the relevant authority to waylay our mission.”

“The Cloud Gathering division hold special privilege,” he returned, naming Ban Bingbai’s decision on their title.

Recently legitimised, Fu wondered if it held clout.

First to bow, if slight, was He Ting, followed by Gan Xuemei. “Forgiveness, we were uncertain,” spoke the former.

Fu passed it off. “Time has my own task take priority, but it is only right that your own not be neglected.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“We have only to observe the functions of the several [Arrays] inside, for the Silver Loom rotate these diligently. He Ting is skilled in this,” suggested Xuemei.

A squad tasked in the relevancy of our records. Are these skills transferable?

There came a tremble from his broach. Niwai’s signal that the [Constellation Seed] had been purchased, or its situation, altered.

As the long-lived, it was the unnaturally cursed cultivator that did not accrue a vast wealth. This expanded a list of myriad potential buyers, if split into two categories. Those that knew the treasure’s value, and those that did not.

Some thirty strides parted the women and Fu. A screen of citizens between that had them meld innocuously with the crowd, severing any chance of association.

A second signal had his broach quiver, alerting him to Niwai’s approaching presence.

Here was a mundane avenue of the city’s finer quarter, and while the details were unimportant Fu had little say in their revelation. For the slabs beneath cleared. First of bodies and of [Spirit Beasts], and then of snow’s slender claim.

Five cultivators walked in militaristic step ahead, uniformed with lamellar vest and chin-strapped helmets. Vibrant azure plumes atop. Decorations without function, in opposition to the long podao and uniform [Spirit Hounds] that parted the tide of citizenry aside to make way for their master.

Cushioned as he lounged upon his palanquin behind.

Fu stepped into the coverage of a doorway, expanding his [Divine Sense] in a singular pulse.

The [Old One’s Whisker] fed back from myriad sources. Herbs bedded in nearby planters, the alchemical incense burned to repel [Winter’s] moisture, and lesser [Arrays] in sequence with varying effects.

A single [Constellation Seed] within a chest upon the palanquin’s rear. Its signature, radiant and loud.

Uktaka soared above, gently mixing with the common [Spirit Birds] at roost upon the street’s rooftops. While across, slinking through the mire of crowds, Niwai moved at a gentle pace.

Few cultivators have need for armour save those on the Demon Fronts. A guess would go astray with the tournament nearing commencement, else I would place his allegiance on the Western side.

This man’s [Realm] was shamefully disparate from his retainers. A [Foundation] worm among true dragons,their cultivation undetectable.

He soon tread a parallel path with Niwai, surveying from opposing sides. The daylight was broad, unhampered by the powderings of falling snow. Lines of sight were maintained by a further two cultivators at the palanquin’s rear flank. These haughty avenues dared not possess any major alleyways, for such infrastructure was reserved for those districts of lower station.

Before he could affect a plan, he signalled for Niwai to continue her pursuit.

We will not act with haste.

His potential recruits loitered nearby, weighing the scene on his approach and giving suitable chase as he wound further down the street.

“A strange request, to follow twice down the same street,” said Xuemei. “If this is all, brother?”

Hushi impressed an image of Zhu, which Shuidi swiftly agreed on.

He Ting’s differed, prompting Fu to grant the Heavens thanks. Yet, a shudder nigh roused as her [Spirit Beast] emerged.

A spindling of eight legs, dull and maroon where its rear end bulged. Though this [Spirit Spider’s] mass was well hidden beneath the woman’s veil, it revealed a thread of suppressed Qi tethered in its grasp.

Taught.

“A mid [Foundation] cultivator of the Northern Demon Front. Spoiled by [Spirit Cores],” He Ting listed.

Fu dipped his head in thanks. “Gratitude, sister,” he said, placing trust in her technique. “There is another trouble I would put you through, however.”

Xuemei’s ill-controlled expression struck her name from the list.

“That is?” asked He Ting.

“Memory only, sister, as there are forty-three [Arrays] within the Silver Loom and I have not the parchment to share them.”

🀩

“These are your candidates?” smiled Ban Bingbai, receiving a nod in the affirmative. “Disciple Zhu performed his task with the same irregularity. Four names by his hand, to match the four you’ve given me. That six can become eight is most curious.”

Fu bent his head. “Our Master’s special seminar is winnowing, and one should not place all their fish in one basket.”

“Wisdom in your disobedience then,” the senior laughed. “My juniors are indeed becoming rowdy to show such blatant disregard for my words. I’ll indulge you, however, as I’m interested to see who has made the diligent Gao Fu’s cut.”

“Gratitude, Master Ban. Might this disciple be of further assistance?”

Attention fell to the second parchment, detailing his report on the Silver Loom [Constellation Seed].

“Menial deliveries, perhaps. But no. If your details are accurate I’ll requisition another squad to retrieve the treasure. That these Demon Front soldiers flaunted it so openly speaks highly of their ignorance.”

So saying, Bingbai pinched the report’s corner and proffered it to the air. Shuidi startled as the air broke, delivering a ghost to receive it.

“Master Jiahao. Priority,” Ban ordered.

The arrival then vanished. Sequestered into air.

[Of Perennial Shade] has use of these ghosts. Irregular cultivators. That I cannot detect them- I must further train my [Senses].

“Many names. Phantoms, Worms, Hollows. Variations with foul implication,” frowned Bingbai. “If undoubtedly useful.”

“Might this disciple ask further?”

A considering look crossed the Master, cut short by Guang as the great [Spirit Tortoise] wheezed an interruption. Occasions where surprise clouded Master Bingbai’s face were as rare as phoenix feathers, as it was now.

“Guang speaks highly of young Hushi. Tempering my worries. I’d see this as a temptation, Gao Fu, knowing well your [Hundred Immunities Fruit], and no cautionary tale as my partner amends it to be.”

Fierce interest stirred in Fu, yet- “This disciple will rescind his query for fear of granting Master Ban the wrong impression.”

“Hoho,” came the man’s laugh, tandem with a knowing smarm from the [Spirit Tortoise]. Humor indicated through [Intent]. “Careful disciple, my Cloud Gathering division fosters greed and thirst in equal parts. Yet I’ve come to know other motivations guide your hand. That there’s no falsehood in you is likeable.”

Unsure, Fu merely extended his gratitude.

“Myriad shadow sects, be that branches, divisions or those wholly engulfed in the moon-facing world possess variations of our Phantoms. Prideful as I am however, our Cloudy Serpent Sect can’t claim its origin. That shell you witnessed is but a sentient husk of a former cultivator,” he explained. “Crippled at the [Core Formation] realm, and drip fed the [Revenant Dream Cobra Venom] for several moons unceasing. It purges individuality, will and what sapiency might remain upon recovery.”

Concern surfaced in Shuidi as a blush drew over her cultivator’s face. Hushi drew the douli’s brim lower.

Gratitude, brother, sister.

“Sapiency is the dividing line between reason and thought,” offered Bingbai, his insight void of judgement. “Hushi before he attained [Spirituality]. Driven by impulse, but with little application of foresight or advanced deduction. In these Phantoms, the venom is used for [Body Re-refinement]. Simply, they’re forged tools. Hollowed to fit purpose with no sense of self.”

This aligned well with a Sect.

Exemplary of the notions he had held within Thousand Shore City.

Yet, was he not privy to [Demonic Arts]?

Fu clasped his hands. “This disciple would trouble the Master with a final question,” he said, to which an open palm gestured in reply. “What relation might this hold to my [Hundred Immunities Fruit]?”

“Only in that you’ve begun the Path of [Mind], where [Body] before was linear. Knowledge is as a river, and all men can but only drink their fill even if led there. Now,” he declared. “My suggestion is that you prepare. These candidates will soon arrive.”

🀩

A [Spatial Array] delivered the ten disciples to the peak of a dramatic mountain. Cloud-soaked, so that naught escaped to the unknown lands below, and moistened by the plush beds of snow underfoot.

Secondary clouds wisped there. Sheets upon the cultivators, their [Resilience] a furnace to ward against such frigidity that peeled off to merge with their ivory brethren.

Ban Bingbai dismissed the depths of [Winter].

[Celestial Qi] blossomed upon a finger. An orb to cast all aside, denying the cold’s claim by way of miniature sun. Fu felt a queer pride as his Master’s awe-drawing actions went further.

As if honoured by association.

Golden needles fled from Bingbai’s sleeve in droves to puncture the snow-cleared earth, inscribing a great formation of concentric lines and interwoven sheen. It radiated in golden [Dao], ever more profound as the seconds spanned to minutes.

There came an unsubtlety of stammers. Of grunts and weakened knees, where base experts as those gathered barely resisted. Be this a defiance of oncoming [Epiphany] or a mere readjustment against what incredible pressure flowed.

Here, already the air was thin without the Master’s efforts. The [Air Qi] however, proved abundant. Enriching to Fu and his partners, if a ponderous thing to note. It drew recollection of one of many conversations with Zhu.

His [Light Qi]. How Fu had queried that all things might hold it, for if not the world would walk in darkness, and how the plum-eyed cultivator had shared a withering look.

“Purity,” he had said, no doubt wishing the congee on his lap was a bottle of the city’s finest spirit wine.

Another voice shied the memory away, revealing the purpose of these golden formations.

[Four Directions Tribulation Array].

Impressions from the [Old One’s Whisker] foretold of the Master’s intentions with vague sense, delivering more notions of its Qi flow and weaknesses than any of immediate use.

Could it be that there are multiple purposes? I sense there is a component missing- a fulcrum, or a source to activate it. Perhaps Ban Bingbai needs to empower it with his Qi when we begin.

At glacial pace his Master affirmed this, for he laid down a sprig of coral herb.

[Mimamsa Sage].

Fu’s recruit, Udvah, stirred to see it. His naked head dipped, and some unheard recital passed beneath his breath.

“Disciples, both known and not, I would have you take position,” announced Master Ban, eyes aglitter with mirth as Zhu crossed the [Array]. “These formations comprise the [Four Directions Tribulation Array], and will serve as your refinement. An affirmation of all that you cultivate.”

Ever patient, he waited for the disciples to reach their positions. Ten spaces at the [Array’s] circular perimeter, equidistant from the next. There, the golden lines thickened, and Fu saw furrows as if the thrumming Qi at his feet was cordoned by a sluice.

Unable to reach the [Mimamsa Sage] ahead.

“Four partitions embody four directions,” continued Ban Bingbai. “Four great Paths, of which I have set a standard. The aspects of [Body] are reflected in all, but I’ve witnessed a great need beyond this, for walking one need not spurn the others. Ah, I see confusion. Disciple Zhu, do you follow this?”

For those well used to their Master’s unorthodox attitude this casual manner of address was no surprise. The other disciples, however, hid their impropriety poorly. Arched brows and small mutterings.

Zhu, every pace of him the model of a dignified cultivator, turned severe. “The standard Master Ban expects is to be set here. None will surpass his [Array] if they can’t touch upon the Paths unwalked. Those without [Dao] or [Intent] will suffer some unknown fate, I’d guess.”

“As the disciple says. Four steps lead to the treasure ahead of you, and each will refine the talents I seek. Know this, however, the [Four Directions Tribulation Array] will take its tithe in Qi - proportional to your cultivation - and inflict it upon the whole in sequence. The [Tribulation], and opportunity, will only grow for those who walk upon it later.”

Then, silence, save for the Master’s footsteps.

Slow paces that set him aside Guang in the lotus position, a small tome in his hand. “Oh, you may determine the order yourselves. Unless, Squad Leader Gao Fu, you’d wish to delegate all those that will walk before you?”

He means for me to go last, as-

Fu considered this. A ploy, he thought, to have his standing be known among those that might potentially join. Some measure of competition, perhaps.

Or simply, a fulfilment of duty.

“Gratitude, Master Ban,” he said, catching the attention of all. “But the Cloud Gathering division will take only the final four positions. What remains is for those that wish to prove themselves.”

Across the [Array], Zhu grinned.