I looked upon him, our unwanting Master.

Absent in the love held for him. Wordless. Effortless. Callous. Cold. Subtle. Deserving. Radiant. Divine.

And… I find myself changed. He is as the [Dao], for the trials I might seek to gain insight on him-

Our Matriarch is heavenly, yet pales. Men would- have slaughtered entire Sects for her attention. To glimpse the mist upon the moon. Her elusive beauty, her unparalleled form.

No expert beneath the Heavens might match her.

But my heart betrays me. My mind whorls in dangerous paths. Treason and treachery take to my lips.

She is unworthy.

Though if this is the truth of things, then who might be?

A star or ocean, a vista, a dream.

He would pass these as trite and base. This I feel in my bones.

What use do these brittle things hold to him- he that severs all without words?

- scrawlings from Wu Min’s diary

“Better to deal with the serpent one knows, than another you do not,” answered Zhu. “These are disciple Fu’s words.”

Ban Bingbai viewed this with rare severity. “The sentiment is wise, if the delivery lacks. That my own disciples have held this from me- I’d thought better of our relationship. A fine line marks the boundary between the allowances of this station and duty.”

“I’m yet to rid myself of desire,” said Zhu.

Fu allowed his friend to lead the discussion of these matters, despite the chill upon his spine when such blatantly disrespectful words were traded.

Our Master’s tolerance for Zhu may wane, but I see a relationship there greater than that he holds with me. This course is best.

“Yes. Contrary to the standard our Sect sets, I’ve no issue with greed. It is the magnitude and insult that I’ve no liking for.” Ban Bingbai tugged sharply on his cobalt beard. “Henceforth, you’ll report the [Constellation Seeds] gathered. Be that through fate or by personal design.”

With a rare deference that truly matched his feelings, Fu bowed lower. “Master Ban is generous. This disciple extends his gratitude a hundredfold.”

Zhu affected a similar bow.

“Reveal these smuggled seeds,” their Master intoned.

Shared between both spatial rings, the disciples had three [Hollow Ivory Splinters] land upon the desk. All that remained of their plunder.

Curiously, Ban Bingbai extended his scrutiny to Fu, only placing it upon the treasures thereafter. “The Heavens laugh, it seems, and my warning grows less dire.” He drew attention to his own hand, where a fourth treasure appeared. Identical to the three before it. “It is the nature of [Constellation Seeds] to bear unique properties. Yet siblings are not uncommon. Bunched fruit, petals from the same mother flower, differing dilutions of blood or liquid. I need not go on. What you have presented is widespread.”

Fu thought on the [Hundred Immunities Fruit], and its partner in Long.

“Widespread among secreted treasures?” asked Zhu.

The Master smiled. “Just so. At an estimate, there are ninety eight of these treasures in varying roles. The delineation of [Pull], for Gao Fu, and [Senses] for you, Zhu, these have brothers and sisters.”

Shuidi puffed relief through a wisp of mist.

Ban Bingbai noted it. “Further, [Constellation Seeds] of this stripe are quite integral to our division. That the Heavens deliver them now is curious.” The makings of a question formed upon Zhu’s lips, and was calmed by the Master’s gesture. “If you’re of a mind to lessen your punishment by having me wax, boy, dissuade yourself of the notion. The answers to that will come in time. Yet, rice cannot be uncooked.”

Without signal, the three [Constellation Seeds] vanished.

A loss. But if we remain unscathed it is all the better.

Naturally Fu would have wished to retain the treasures, though found that no sense of loss crept over him. This conversation was mellow in comparison to whatever trial [Of Perennial Shade] may have responded with.

“As punishment, you’ll not be remunerated. A fairness, I’d think, for neither of my favoured disciples are bereft of benefit.”

Fu bowed in time with Zhu, extending a shared “Gratitude.”

As if to exemplify the Master’s lack of punishment, he merely returned to his paperwork. No parting signal shared, nor words that might deliver a new task.

The other disciples were already within their quarters, cultivating or training as their personal time allowed.

A part of Fu was glad for the timing, for he feared that resentment might well build were they to be excluded from the conversation once more.

Zhu interjected after several minutes of kneeling. “Does Master Bingbai have any duties we might tend to?”

“I’ve tasks for Gao Fu,” came the reply. “Though the hierarchy differs, his position is still vice-leader. If not Squad Leader, were I to hold such an equivalent. Has he shared our discussion on my shortcomings?”

The accusation bristled.

“He has, Master,” Zhu stated with such blatancy that were Fu a violent man, he would have had to restrain his hand from dispensing a slap.

To discuss one’s Senior behind their back equated to a cardinal sin.

Ban Bingbai’s stare glinted with mischief. “Disciple Gao Fu seems not to appreciate your forthrightness,” he chuckled. “As the matter stands, our division is lacking. All disciples should be present, yet two are unready to join the ranks. So too do they lack [Constellation Seeds]. To wait- as is my wish, wouldn’t bring benefit. Yet neither do I leap at the opportunity to induct them.”

“This disciple would ask how they might be readied,” said Fu.

“To address this problem holistically, I’ve intentions to conduct a special seminar. A two-fold plan, for we’ve yet to cover our weaknesses. Gao Fu’s leadership often treads a path of duplicity and disguise, effective in its simplicity. Together, your [Prowess] is enough to defeat most early [Core Formation] foes, and perhaps those that infringe on the middle stage. Where we lack is diversity. I intend no offence, disciple Zhu, but a house cannot stand on a single pillar.”

If Zhu was slighted by this, it did not show.

In usual fashion, parchment appeared in the air ahead. A pair of sheets that the disciples readily took in hand.

“A roster of disciples,” said Zhu.

Ever slow in reading, Fu had yet to make it to the second set of characters.

Shameful. If only the [Old One’s Whisker] could turn to this.

“Four doors of ten are filled,” said Ban Bingbai, referencing the open screens about them. “I’ve no expectation that all six will close upon reaching this roster’s bottom. Two would suffice to fill our numbers.”

“This disciple is to return with recruits, Master?”

“Return, yes, and with those chosen by your own hand. Know that I’d seek recruits of merit, but also of substantial character. The composition of a division holds as many possibilities as the Heavens do stars. Foremost, I’ve found, is that greatness isn’t quite as important as the attitude one affects to reach it. For in time, all things are possible,” smiled the Master, his beard well-tugged. “Enlist as many as six, and choose well, for the special seminar is a winnowing that few might surpass. Even you, disciples.”

🀩

The long-fallen ruins were near consumed by sand and it was no shore or beach that obscured aged structures beneath their grains, but a sea.

Aptly named, the [Ironwaste Archipelago] indeed contained one.

Save that the lapping tides were utterly void of water, and in its place there thrashed waves of ever-shifting dust. It comprised many hundred li, painting each looming dune as a shifting seascape from afar.

Ten paces from the crowd’s rear, Fu observed the tower that rose above. The sole monument that yet stood in this desert.

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Again the Heavens humble me. That there stands a place so dry and barren.

He put thoughts of the [Hollow Hegemon’s Splinter] aside, and joined Niwai as she watched the cultivators ahead. Steeped in a cascade of sand that spilled from this sky-scraping tower of stone, many experts climbed.

A simple circuitous spiral wound its outside in steps, deemed to be some manner of trial from their observations.

“To speak as Zhu might, sister,” he said, addressing his comrade. “It surprises me that you have not joined this contest.”

The desert wind blew gently.

As did Niwai’s lips split in the same fashion. Her words, afeared to leave. “Might I speak as Zhu does?”

“You may speak as you like.”

“Then I’ve no comparison for the appropriate. When I might chase opportunity, or when it’s best to remain,” she said.

Would that Fu possessed an [Art] to sense intentions, his life would be simplified. That Niwai had shared these words. Were they true consideration, or lies, intended to appease him? Selfishness could not be so easily undone.

“Nothing presses us, and to join does not put me at a disadvantage. These are loose rules, and my words only, but the same that I follow,” he offered.

The woman seemed then, to embody Linhua. With stuttered word and uncertainty of a match with their sister disciple. “Then… I’ll partake.”

An image rose as she moved to join the others at the tower’s base. One shared by Hushi of a frog that had leapt free of its well.

What occurrences she and Linhua faced in the [Mystic Realm] were profound. To have shattered her confidence so.

Little sand shifted beneath Fu’s soles as he set off. The effect of his [Teal Supple Physique], he mused, and a boon against most ahead who trudged some few fingers deep into the grains.

“Amituofo,” greeted the first of three monks. “A stranger comes.”

Fu returned a high bow. “I share your greetings, venerable seekers.”

“Amituofo, these penniless monks extend their hospitality,” said the second, granting an invitation to sit upon the sanded banks.

It put Fu to the rightmost side of the contemplative monks, who were arrayed in a row to spectate the affair. Aid-givers, he thought, for the [Old One’s Whisker] listed a host of [Life Affinity] herbs gathered in the baskets to their side.

The third’s low hum suggested a mantra, and was joined in rhythmic grunts by the great [Spirit Yak] to his rear. Its prayer-beads draped from horn to horn as vines might a dense forest.

“Amituofo, this penniless monk would ask if their guest intends to join the trial? On the [Dao], no harm will befall you.”

With a hand, Fu gestured to Niwai. “My junior does. I fear the competition that would rise should I attempt it.”

A dry cough chuckled from the second monk. “Amituofo. The stranger is wise.”

Though in sleeveless, monastic robes, their [Ink] was obscured. More troublesome, the violet [Spirit Toad] that would identify Ban Bingbai’s chosen sat beyond in speciation. Not aligned to any of the three by proximity.

Shamefully, these Vajra in their ascetic attire looked too similar for the sparse description of this Udvah’s profile to be of aid. He knew only of his Bond, and that his initiation to the Clouded Court Squads was a recent thing.

“It is regretful that I know so little of this place,” he offered.

This stirred the first monk. “The stranger seeks enlightenment indirectly. Amituofo, if he wishes to know it he need only ask.”

“Gratitude, venerable seeker. But I fear I could not comprehend a lesson from one so sagely. A junior’s wisdom is enough for me.”

“Amituofo,” interrupted the third, his mantra cut short. “This stranger is indeed fearful, to say the phrase twice. He interrupts prayer. Brother Sharvil is fresh upon the path. He will tend to the stranger’s enlightenment far from here.”

Sharvil, now revealed to be his greeter, bowed low. “Amituofo. As you say.” The Heavens delivered fortune as his [Spirit Toad] took to his shoulder in a single bound.

The pair took a silent stroll, navigating the tower’s base. It had them pass the line of orderly cultivators, some thirty in total of which Niwai stood close to the rear.

“Amituofo, the stranger might observe,” proffered the one named Sharvil, highlighting the cultivator that now began an ascent.

Some slight woman of white-gold hair, a [Bloodline] evident that was shared by her [Spirit Ape]. Her foot mounted the first step, and the tower responded.

Fu’s [Senses] felt the thrum of a [Dao Principle] take hold, though his eyes served best for they spied the geyser of sand that rumbled from the tower’s peak. A distant rain that clouded the skies to descend from on high.

Both men stalled upon a dune to observe with greater clarity.

Great strain oppressed the ascending woman, not solely by its physical volume. Waist-deep, her measured steps continued. Ever onwards at a marginal pace.

The Elder’s favour marked upon his [Ink] should signify to this man his allegiance, and so Fu endeavoured to wait until such words were spoken. Though, in truth, he held no certainty as to how the identification worked.

“Amituofo. Mangalam carries a message,” the Vajra said. “That the stranger’s junior did not come for the insight of this place.”

A croak made this ‘Mangalam’ known.

“Is that so?” smiled Fu. “Brother Udvah’s partner is indeed wise.”

Swiftly, a contortion of the man’s features displayed his confusion. “Udvah? The stranger already forgets this lacking seeker’s name. Amituofo. A troubling thing.”

Fu’s skin cooled beneath the otherwise pleasant warmth of the sun above.

He is not-

Mischief crept over Udvah’s face. “Amituofo. Senior brother will forgive this humble seeker,” he smiled. “The Path should be light no? And no offence was intended.”

After a blink, Fu shared the man’s smile. “None is taken. But I would wonder on my profound junior, for he could not have known my response. A joke is bold in normal company.”

“Amituofo. As you say. Yet there is much dark in our work, and all things should be in balance. This lacking seeker would provide that, come what might.”

🀩

Distance proves a boat’s strength.

Fu took solace in this. Guiding him through the oddity of this situation.

A vexation, for even across the two days since he had been tasked with it, he could not fathom why he was to choose his comrades.

The list was nigh depleted. Sixteen names, scored with ink. He trusted in the wisdom of Master Bingbai, who had surely compiled this roster with talent in mind.

[Affinities], [Arts] and the myriad factors that comprised one’s cultivation.

Fu had mused on dissociation and put stock in this as a guiding factor, though he would not view any theory of his own with utmost certainty.

The [Mist Qi] upon his fingertip dissipated. [Qi Manifestation] petering out. “Two things done in half lead nowhere,” he smiled, addressing Shuidi.

His [Spirit Crab] clasped her claws in gratitude.

He dipped his head in return. “It will be some time before I might match you, sister. That was no larger than dew upon a leaf.”

“Gao Fu,” interrupted a voice. “The way is open.”

Gloom consumed him as he plunged into a nostalgic hole. An enigma of wisdom painted upon the monolith ahead. Wherein characters sprawled. Diagrams and poses, bordered by a scrawl of poetry.

An incense stick unlit before it.

The initiation grounds of the Clouded Court Squads, in which he bowed. “Gratitude, brother,” he called to the disciple above, and set off.

[Winter] had run half its course, as evidenced by this stage of the trial. Beyond the initial contest, well beyond the circumstances that would grant one the honour of joining their venerable Sect.

Two bounds secured his place below. The air undisturbed, his landing silent, no coarse scratch upon the prison’s pitch-black walls.

Juvenile cultivators stalked the surroundings. Those yet-to-be.

Scree shrieked under their soles. Breath rasped as if a mountain-side gale. No less thunder quickened their hearts than a looming storm.

Shuidi. The woman is of [Metal Qi].

Mere moments drew its signature from across the prison. No hint of [Qi Suppression] yet formed to clad it. Profound in her [Senses], Shuidi impressed the direction.

Fu navigated the cavern’s top, conscious of the [Spirit Bats] whose roost he disturbed in passing. Of note he found their presence… louder. Tangible, where once his impression was of swift-winged wraiths and grave severity.

Bloody cries had sounded to fourfold effect by the time his mark was reached.

He poised upon the cavern’s lip, tracing two forms in the black below. [Metal Qi] oscillating on the spear there, where mundane gloom obscured the [Spirit Eel] aside it.

Saved from ruin by the low depths of her passage where the encircling creatures would not enter.

Names were well muddied now, thus marking her as initiate to Fu and no more.

And this initiate crept, edging the boundary of a dim lantern. The mouth to widened channels where degenerate prisoners roamed. Out of sight lest one counted the din of their raucous Qi.

How might a character be judged without interference? Master Jiahao would not take kindly were I to spoil his initiation.

So it was that long minutes passed. An hour of stalking. Another.

Still, the marked disciple pressed on with utmost vigilance, proving her luck if nothing else- for no trouble had crossed her path.

A talent in itself.

The cavern’s converging paths rewarded Fu’s patience close to the third hour, as he noted the presence of a second initiate. This, a man of foolishly bright hanfu, who radiated uncertainty with each forward step. From above the routes were clear, and Fu watched the oblivious pair as they walked parallel on opposing sides of stone.

Hushi impressed a notion, leaving his midden to affect it.

The eight-armed ghost glided through shadow, descending. Even in possession of their link, and with [Senses] expanded, Fu’s eyes were harried to position the ghost.

Yet his [Intent] was clear.

Subtle whispers of violence that crept forth from his partner’s spirit. A promise of lurking death should the male initiate dare to linger nearby.

The terror was clear for in response the man choked out a gasp, stammering some somatic phrase to conjure his technique. An inconsequential thing that enveloped him in a folded wing of [Wood Qi].

Above, a second wave of [Intent] awakened. Distilled starvation, where Hushi’s was quiet and still.

The ambient air shifted as scores of [Spirit Bats] arrived at Fu’s side. They paid him no heed, nor took note he was there, and instead needled their beady gazes upon the terrified initiate.

Hushi’s [Intent] surged.

“I cannot bear it!” the man squealed.

His footsteps grew percussive in moments, hammering in his flight down the passages. Elbows and palms braced against sharp turns. Soft, fleshy slaps. The chime of his thin jian as it loosened upon his hip.

Urged by the specter at his heels.

Fu felt a [Half Cloud Step] burst Hushi to the fore, and [Intent] drove him to run from whence he had come. It repeated, and grew, for the octopus plagued his sprint with such frequency that the man leapt boldly to the wall’s surface.

“Any amount will be yours,” plead his scream to open-air. To the any that he so desperately willed to be near. “A fortune awaits if only you come to my aid!”

Three strides from Fu, the [Spirit Bats] swarmed to silence his screams. A further three paces distant sounded the woman’s snort.

Callous and disdainful.

No fool, Fu suppressed his sigh. His disappointment was not so vast that he would endanger himself aside the ravening flock. A thought shared by both Hushi and Shuidi, who saved such notions for their link.

A dispassionate initiate, and we have this in Niwai already. No. One of her ilk is not one I would have guarding my rear.