What were these upon his skin?

Fu Gao eviscerated the swarm, [Mist Qi] solidifying upon his chain.

When had he learned such a technique?

A [Spirit Crab] severed a second swarm. An unknown beast, usable for now.

Characters bled from his forearm, and the trails merged to have them an unreadable mess as he swung.

He smeared this… singular limb against his hanfu to cleanse what he might. Through smudges, it added no clarity to his predicament. More vexation to this trial.

“Hushi. What does this read?” he called, circulating his blade through the surrounding fields. This scythed the heads of all that grew there, these sparse, ashen herbs. Remnants that aided, for so barren a land revealed all that flew upon gray-flamed wings.

The octopus blurred to hang about Fu Gao’s neck.

“Bowl. Basin.”

Another swarm rose from the ashen fields, and the three dispensed slaughter as a further seven swarms made their presence known ahead.

Our [Inner Qi] is much depleted.

Fu Gao reached into his ring, conjuring… a [Spirit Core]? One quickly syphoned despite its confusing origin. Frustration prickled as he tried to recall just where he had obtained such a thing, only to fall as the next wave struck.

Five swarms through, his [Senses] found a muted trickle.

A bowl, its contents now a paste atop ash-thick ground.

Bowl. Basin.

He took it in his hand… and gawked.

What were these upon his skin?

Violent flames rid Fu of such notions, for instinct snaked free his chain. One arm moved in the [Wind Phantom Strides], and yet this [Might] that guided it, the [Control] and [Senses] that swiftly ended the swarms…

The [Mist Qi] that strained, yet flowed with ease.

When did I learn such a technique? When did my cultivation progress to such a degree?

“Hushi, we have ascended in a single bound,” he said. His partner’s appearance had his breath catch. “Your flesh, brother. Teal no longer. Has a sickness claimed you? The [Blight], I do not see it here.”

The flies, are they some fresh [Tribulation]?

A bowl thudded from his threadbare hanfu, spraying an ashen paste upon his ankles. He stole what chance he could to retrieve it. Ahead, eight swarms of [Spirit Flies] raged across the barren grounds, and he tensed at the sight.

[Half Cloud Step].

Fu did not know whether to laugh or cry, so swift was his flight. The suffusion of [Air Qi] that led his body had him move swifter than dragons, bounding towards the rising foe to then sail clean overhead in a singular motion.

Hushi, see there.

Some small plinth decorated the middle distance. As he neared it became clearer, shown to be a basin of strange composition. It evoked a queer sense of loss in him, but harried as he was by these fearsome beasts, Fu set to face them.

Again they fell with ease.

A kindness of the Heavens, perhaps, though the fisherman knew well that such a thought would prove false.

“I-” Characters were brutally carved in his flesh. “Bowl. Basin,” he muttered.

Caution warred against this message. Some warning in truth, as the sight drew an untold dread to chill his spine. No more however, than the rising swarms. A fool rushed, but he saw the meaning here.

What harm might come from filling this bowl?

Fu sunk it below the waters and confusion fell upon him. Sensations affixed his feet to the ground as balance flooded his mind. Thoughts that told him he was indeed within a [Trial]. That he had lost much.

That he was of [Core Formation]. That this place… yes, it was no [Green Blight Valley], but a tribulation of strategists.

It must be.

The flies descended with such an intensity of heat that his chain began to lag in their slaughter for the oddity of [Mist Qi] about it simply burned away. He empowered it more with floods of [Inner Qi] knowing his ring held several [Winter Rejuvenation Pills].

Or- when did I receive those?

Hushi urged they travel to the next basin, recognising what meaning they held.

“Yes,” Fu Gao mused. “Then we will find the strategist employing this, and see what fresh treasures we might reap.”

Knowing the [Dao of Wayward Breezes] would not transport this bowl, he called upon his [Half Cloud Step]. Swift movement had him cross halfway to the next basin without incident, bypassing the swarms whose number was double that of before.

Our [Core] runs dry.

Such a thought was remedied by drawing forth a [Pill], swallowed then to release the energies within.

Agony then.

Blistering heat as his [Channels] fought against the fresh influx of energy. Rejected the power as if he had swallowed too many, or overstepped his reach. Foolish, for this was his first in many days.

Fu Gao collapsed on the ashen ground, coughing a fine trail of blood from his lungs as his inner organs tried in vain to suppress it.

It was here that hundreds of [Spirit Flies] descended to spread their cloying heat.

He grimaced amidst them, bolstering one arm to lift him from the ground. And though the situation did not demand it, he grew further confused when he saw the patterns etched there.

What were these upon his skin?

🀦

The man knew only this [Mist Qi] upon his chain. Thereafter, the [Dao]. Not its name, but in how a fragment of what his soul carried, how it suffocated the horizon of a thousand, thousand [Spirit Flies].

All was burnt and ashen. Robes and flesh. Crust upon his upper lip where blood dried no sooner than it streamed.

Exhaustion.

In some minutes he could not fathom the source.

In some he cursed the Heavens, now comprised solely of myriad insectile wingbeats.

[Intent] flew next, an aura suffusing his chain to replace the lethality of mist. Instinctual. For it was only he and the chain.

How free he felt, knowing only this. History was meaningless. The burn of limbs. Could he be meant for this?

A man devoted to the Martial Path.

Hours passed. Days passed.

The man found a comrade amidst the ash. A beast whose skill exceeded his own. No fly, in surety, and no kin of theirs. Said, for there came no hostility from this eight-armed expert, only a kinship forged through this shared [Tribulation].

At times they would breathe, and the Heavens would reward their plight. Strength would return during such respite, grasped as lungs swelled and muscles became infused with freshened draws of air.

When the third soul met them, the [Spirit Flies] no longer served as skies. A sea of mist prevented such sights, holding the flame-soaked wings at bay.

Her pincers could not clash, nor deflect. What Martial talent she held lay in these granite plumes, and yet, so too did she share in this kindred bond.

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Together the three proved unparalleled, and indeed the days of incessant slaughter granted further kinship. One would think, and the two would move. The [Spirit Crab] would seek to replenish its [Inner Qi], and the man would ward her from within her circulating mists. As did the [Spirit Octopus] appear where he could not- a phantom in his shadow, knowing better his flaws than the man himself.

So came shame, for the man felt his Martial Path stagnate.

“Brother,” he said. “I would learn.”

The octopus impressed.

Hours passed. Days passed. [Ink] burned.

Air bent around the man’s strikes. A kick delivered thrust the very wind forth with every motion. Every revolution. It crowded his limbs as if a second skin, or a current upon him. And to the [Spirit Flies], it was stifling.

Each extension of his arm would choke the air about them, restricting as every kick slowed them in thrown currents.

Bowl.

Words that raced upon his lashing arm.

Basin.

The man found them to hold no meaning or import to the Martial Path.

🀦

Underfoot lay piled corpses. Fields now, so thick that one would have trouble if they wished to see the ashen ground beneath. It was here the man struck out.

Effortless.

With a trite expenditure of [Inner Qi], the air about his foot became as ephemeral armor. Cladding currents to reinforce the physical and drive it through five [Spirit Flies]. The second foot claimed just the same in as many seconds.

Those at his side impressed triumph, and so the fray continued. Their incessant role, knowing only this fight.

And then, an end.

When the three souls came to rest atop their mountain of corpses, scorched and heaving, immolated and bare from the inferno that had blazed, yet blazed for days untold - the chorus they had always known, ceased.

Silence in place of wingbeats. Then, cold.

The man tensed as the flames lost their intensity, grimacing. “Brother Eight. Sister Shell. Gratitude.”

Impressions made clear that none were sure what lay next. Only an undercurrent of hope accompanied it, one that willed a fresh challenge to appear. But across the battlefield they spied no surge of [Spirit Flies], merely stillness.

“Gao Fu.”

A voice thrummed within the man’s soul, and roused the companions aside him.

“Our faculties return. Stand fast, for it is no pleasant thing.”

Fresh flames manifested in the distant fields, and these were of brightest scarlet. Therein a vast [Spirit Beast] emerged with splaying wings and flaming beak, coming to preside over the sea of corpses beneath it.

“[Winter’s] child,” it called, and washed such an intensity of fire out that the land was scoured clean. “The [Trial] concludes, yes, yes. Unforeseen, for any with eyes might have judged you to be victor.”

Fu blinked, overcome.

The phoenix’s flames had all fade to gold, and bone in turn, arriving him back into the [Reliquary’s] center.

Aarushi was pale, prostrate and silent.

Su Sai was as a walking corpse.

Upon him, as with Fu’s arm, characters were scratched. But in no small number. His body held a tapestry of words to transcend Bowl and Basin. No space was untouched, from arm to scalp, stomach, and then to his frail [Spirit Serpent] who held more carvings than scales.

Fu looked grimly upon him as Hushi and Shuidi entered his fold, similarly overcome with the sensation of returning memory.

“The true victor, [Autumn’s] child. It grants consideration to serpents, yes, yes. Thoughts that they are perhaps deserving of the pedestal you so place them upon.” The phoenix folded its great wings before them, her chains taught as she did. Profundity massed beneath. “By right of conquest, claim what you have earned.”

As her wings retracted, a cerulean feather was revealed. Then, an indignant caw as Fu blurred forth and vanished it within his spatial ring.

The toll on Su Sai had it seem that this escaped his notice.

Boldness had Fu speak swiftly. “Venerable phoenix. I would know how long has passed since we began the [Trial]. Our goals must be met, and to slow is to meet our end. The Imperials will have taken notice.”

“You shame [Winter], to reap what is not yours by right of conquest,” she snapped. “And yet it matters not. An accord was struck, and the squabbles of children mean little. Six mornings have come since your entry, and six winds scattered the ashes of all that sought to interfere.”

Fu dipped his head. “Gratitude, great phoenix. Then we have but to leave and see this Imperial Realm crumble.”

“Yes, yes,” she returned, and the heat grew.

At first the phoenix’s restraints showed resilience against it. [Sixth Under Heaven’s] power, manifest. The golden light that comprised them remained, and remained, and all watched as the infernal thrum of each feather performed in vain.

Then turned to molten crimson.

An explosion sent all within the Wayward Winds to their knees, collapsing Su Sai as he found not the strength to combat it. The phoenix flared bright, and expanded her wings unrestrained for the first time in millenia.

They were no comparable thing, these chains. His were perhaps, lesser, but he knew one plight could not be weighed against another.

Millenia. Debt.

No genius, Fu washed these notions aside. “A sight indeed, great phoenix.”

“It is felt now, by your acts. [Summer’s] return. For that, children, no, no,

those that tread the Path. Our accord is without equilibrium.”

Rejuvenating flames wreathed the Wayward Winds, restoring their wounds in second. Flesh restored, skin unbroken, and then tranquillity. Some cleansing fire that unwound the fatigue of all the [Trial] had offered.

So the gifts continued, for at the end of Fu’s solitary outstretched palm, a fresh plume soon hovered. As it did before Aarushi and Su Sai.

“Before these trappings I was a sliver. Such is my nature. An ember soon to join the great flame. Yet now that thousandth shall soar for the acts done here! Come, bear witness, and fly beneath the wrath of untold years that I so eagerly wish to loose,” proclaimed the great phoenix. “But one part of what is owed.”

As spoken, the [Reliquary] emptied and these rejuvenated ghosts flew. Light paces stole them to the entrance, queer, swift strides that moved all as if the wind itself had lent its speed.

Xiong met them there, squired away among the ashen ruins of what gatehouses had stood before. Their vessel, safe, and soon boarded with a customary greeting.

The quiet [Array] initiate held tension in his frame, and as he spoke it was with white-gripped knuckles upon the hull. “Senior Gao. Above.”

Fu dismissed him as gleaned the skies, feeling the Qi react as the vessel began to move. The sight had him halt, and count. Yet he gave up on such a fruitless affair before a third could even be measured.

Warships dominated the skyline. Banners hung there, grand in green and orchid. Myriad [Arrays] bid Fu to silence the [Old One] for fear of bleeding his brain with such an influx of information, but he needed no such insight.

One was a hanging axe, and could end their efforts within a breath.

“Master Gao. This sixty-first disciple holds much faith, and would ask that she is directed as seen fit,” said Aarushi.

A look in her eyes marked this as truth. “Gratitude, disciple. But that is unnecessary. All we need do is fly.”

Scarlet wings rushed by, quaking the vessel so that all but Fu and his [Control] stumbled from the disruption. It heralded the phoenix’s arrival before these Warships, where her form swelled to that of a titan’s.

Her great crown twisted to regard the diminutive fishing vessel, ill-concerned about the Heavenly fleet that darkened all. Rejecting their presence despite the myriad [Arrays] that glistened with mounting power.

“More is owed, followers of serpents, and all beneath the [Boundless Dao] must see their debts repaid. Yes, yes, for this taste of joys beyond mere [Spring], I grant you both its dusk and [Summer’s] breaking dawn.”

In a single wingbeat, she ascended. As she should, Fu knew, for none should stand taller than this monarch of flame.

Shuidi stepped to her cultivator’s shoulder, and bowed skyward. Pincers clasped. “Xiong,” Fu called. “Today is a cruelty. Close your eyes, this divinity is not for you to witness.”

“Divinity,” needled Su Sai. “I’ve cause to wonder, Gao Fu. For a man of early [Core Formation] to speak so profoundly. It’s viewed as arrogance to some, no?”

Scarlet.

Heaven delivered.

The unblockable light of sunsets.

The cresting blaze that flares when horizons are conquered.

All became scarlet, and Fu dared not shield his eyes. No, he watched, and he cradled Aarushi as an [Epiphany] had her and the [Spirit Lizard] upon her fall into a trance of insight. There he lowered her, sparing no glance for Su Sai and the dull clash of his body against deck.

The ash from on high fell as scarlet dust and all that was not granules merely plummeted.

Blackened hulls, tattered. Columns. Masts. Soaked in the great phoenix’s enduring flame, they disintegrated before any semblance of ground was neared. The last sign of the Imperial mass that had challenged them.

Hushi marvelled and Shuidi expressed her awe. But amidst this, no [Epiphany] came for Fu. As they had feared- no, as they had felt, and known, their own [Dao] came from within.

And so the great phoenix noted, nigh paralysing Xiong as it flew abreast. “[Winter’s] child renders this final gift hollow.”

Fu dipped his head. “Apologies. Such disrespect was not my intention,” he said, looking beyond, where naught but ash remained.

“A vexation that must be balanced. One hundred thousand [Spring]-blind fools are ashed, and still we are unequal. Speak. Name. Ask of me what you might and see it fulfilled. Swiftly. [Sixth Under Heaven] will not remain idle.”

Benefits. Favours from so great a beast.

Villainy rose with such thoughts, for who knew more of selfishness than Fu Gao? Treasures from this phoenix to aid in cultivation, or perhaps an ally to scour these Imperial Realms. Fresh weaponry, pills or an [Array] to sunder the Heavens.

What might this phoenix possess that could be turned to my use?

An arm.

A [Dao Oath] of servitude.

A [Constellation Seed].

“Tell me how to escape this Empire of Abundant [Spring],” he said.

The phoenix ignited with a grunt. “Trifling questions are no repayment. [Spring] dominates, escape cannot be found while it holds all. Heed my words, the [True Orchid Path] is perfection in symphony. Rid your thoughts of escape. Now, demand a thing, even an immortal’s time might be pressed.”

Hushi impressed on the vastness of the world. That treasures were myriad and their demand should go to something rarer.

Shuidi agreed.

The villain brushed his whisker.

“Already you know what is most precious. All else is meaningless.”

Fu Gao agreed. “There are three beyond this place. Beyond eternal [Spring],” he said, and paused.

[Half Cloud Step] had him blur, and a strike knocked Xiong into unwanted sleep.

“Three cultivators of the Gao Clan,” he continued. “My favor owed, the [Karma] between us, the bond struck here and now. All fortune is passed to them, I seek nothing else. This I swear upon my [Dao].”

“As you say, so it is done,” agreed the phoenix, and ignited that she might soar without further words.