Change, however, was the domain of the Divine Lunar Butterfly, and he did not take kindly to the Tyranny enforced on his Seasons by any.

Through pity did he mend the terms, and did he sway the Law of Origin that governs our lands.

Seasons were granted to all as reparation, even to the Demons against who they strove to defeat.

He forged balance, as there should be in all things. Winter would pass, void of Qi, not for all, but for those unaligned with such a Season. Following into Spring, Qi abundant, selective for few, yet a Season still for its favoured.

Summer sustained, as always, granting boons to those blessed in its longevity, the precursor to the fall. Leading to Autumn’s descent into finality, whose champions welcome all that culminates before the end.

- Excerpt from “The Twelve Great Gifts,” by an Unknown Daoist

The true halls of the [Reliquary] towered with the indomitability of a palace.

Interlocking plates of bronze slate rounded the expanse, containing veins of golden Qi inlaid within intricate swirls. All above a section of the dome that protruded to cover its entrance, a pillared doorway, ajar.

Of the party, Fu and Hushi were the only ones to move through it upright.

Considerable strain pushed down upon his bones, and he swore that they creaked with every step, close to collapsing under the pressure. A thought not lightened by Mei, who crawled forwards in half movements, and had moved forwards on all fours in some unintentional mimicry of her [Spirit Lizard].

To speak brought unnecessary displeasure, so neither had exchanged words after passing the trial that the bronze statues had governed.

Save for the occasional grunt born of surrounding pressure.

Fu crossed the threshold first, forced to catch himself as the force increased twofold.

To turn back is one option, though it will shame our efforts. Mei will struggle here.

Already she had urged him not to look back, and he honoured her words now, putting his attention to the front.

A larger statue than any that had come before gazed down upon them, depicting a scholarly young man. He sat in the lotus position, and a multitude of golden characters wove around him in orbit, his great bronze eyes ever closed.

“Hushi,” he whispered, straining even to open his mouth. “Aid Mei, I cannot read what message comes.”

The octopus melted to the floor to move back, and Fu heard a small exclamation as he no doubt offered what tentacled help he could.

Mei arrived minutes later, her red, blustered face well drenched in sweat. What little Fu could spy with her downturned to the bronze.

It was with the greatest strain she forced herself to read the words that assembled from the floating characters, delivering them as though opening her mouth might cause her to burst.

“Myriad steps line the paths to defiance against the Heavens. What is carried forward must be certain, lest it cause one to topple before the top.”

“Another riddle?” he asked, receiving no reply.

His companion was growing weaker by the second. Chained gasps stuttered out of her, lessening in each passing turn, drawing less breath from the mouth that was now firmly pressed against the bronze.

Must be certain? What are we carrying? Qi? Our clothes?

Fu shook, his own muscles wishing to sink into the ground alongside Mei.

I am on my own for this.

Before, he had to kneel. To carry the weight of reverence towards his elders. He wondered if it was that simple.

“We must show reverence again. Show we are certain of it,” he said, then struggling to form a proper bow. Fu came down to his knees in a full kowtow, every fibre of his being desperate to fall to the floor. Painfully, he waited for several seconds, prostrate.

The statue stayed dormant, heralding no change.

When he tried to move past it, stumbling, the golden Qi exploded outwards.

This was no forceful push, however, more a tidal wave of light. One that plucked him from the ground as though he were a leaf in the breeze, clattering him halfway across the distance to the door.

He twisted and thumped, going end over end to spiralling with each clatter against the floor, his world a horrid blur. Pain radiated across his body, a frequency that made it unclear where exactly upon the plethora of bruises it began.

Fu slumped, cursing to find that the pressure increased further as he closed the distance, beginning at the previous weight and not retracting as he expected. It hampered his [Dantian] squashing the Qi within.

“I am certain,” he groaned, stopping. “I am certain of what I bring with me!”

The statue did not react as he met it again, bearing his entire weight upon one knee. It was silent, neglectful of his plight. Uncaring. He bore no more importance to it than he did any cultivator.

Which birthed a thought.

He rose to his feet, teeth grinding, and sweat pouting. Then, with great difficulty, he swelled, making his intent clear. Dismissing the statue with an upturned nose, channelling the disdain that many had fixed him with over his life.

Something hummed, coming far to near as though retracting. The [Ink] upon his arm burned alongside the fresh words that plumed before the stature, unreadable, but perhaps guessable, disappearing the pressure upon him.

One breath allowed him to adapt, and on the second he grabbed Mei, having her repeat the gesture in a far weaker state. Her head slumped, and it took long moments before her natural breath returned to her.

Nothing else assailed them on their path, and other than a brief gift of gratitude towards him, Mei focused on recovering her strength.

However, Fu broke the silence as he entered another doorway, and paused before a junction that split in two directions.

“My boat was not always used for fishing,” he said.

Mei hung upon the wall for support, her back tight against it. “Senior?”

“On rare occasion a cultivator would hire my boat, and we would sail out from Thousand Shore City in search of something. Never did they share it with me. Strange things that one cannot touch. Mei called it meaning.”

“Mei, senior?” she queried with a flash of worry.

“My Mei. Another. Do not worry, I have not lost my mind to this place.” Her understanding came as a brief nod, and he continued. “We met during one such search, and I believe the others did so at her urging. She… She was the most frequent of these customers.”

The young woman stood a mite straighter, and her [Spirit Lizard] seemed to cling to her neck with rapt attention to his words. “This junior has no doubt senior was of the utmost aid to their cultivation.”

Fu rubbed his nose at that. “Meaning. This is not a word touched by the Qi. A mundane word, I think. Though many mortals search for it, in their own way. They do not stand upon the bow, performing their… [Arts], or meditations, or lash themselves to the underside to further understand the world like cultivators might. But they search all the same.” He nodded towards the statue. “This trial holds meaning of this sort, does it not?”

“Senior has gained insight?”

“Insight in that we must look upon all we see as different. This [Reliquary] tries to teach us a lesson. It had us study each of the statues to proceed, and then it had us disregard the last. You might think this obvious Mei, but as I have said, I was far from this world of cultivation before the Cloudy Serpent Sect descended. Could a place such as this appear solely to grant wisdom?”

To see Mei’s expression told him that what he had said was, indeed, obvious. No doubt a juvenile thought for one so embroiled in the affairs of cultivators. Her tone of deference persisted, despite this. “It is as senior says.”

The area they soon entered was a sprawling expanse of pedestals, set within numerous alcoves depressed into the surrounding walls, and marked the end of their descent into the [Reliquary’s] depths given any lack of discernible passage outward.

Fu was thankful that the pressure had abated, and it seemed there were no further statues in the hall.

Yet this did not mean they were alone.

Against such a stark backdrop of bronze, the cultivators ahead were plain to see. So too, were the mewling mortals arrayed in rags at their feet. Finely dressed, at least for those within the [Mystic Realm], a pair of women moved between each of the pedestals, swiping the contents atop each into a roughspun bag.

With such an open expanse between both parties, and with sparse furnishings to hide them, Fu and Mei stole into one of the alcoves.

“There are but two,” Mei whispered. “Though the mortals number at least five. Senior will have no problem ridding such trash from this place.”

Keen to observe first, Fu hushed his companion.

Some occurrence of Qi whisked around one of the further pedestals, visible in the same golden light as their trial. It formed a loose circle, and looked as though cuts of cloth rotated around both the pedestals and the mortal that approached them.

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This was done at the unkind urging of the cultivators, who oversaw the process with a glint of steel in each hand.

I do not wish to invite further tragedy upon us, now that they are armed.

Fu bunched his fingers around Mei’s rags to guide her back. “We must leave before we are discovered, the statues have left us too weak to fight should they find us.” He stole back through his whisper, though found his grip taught against Mei’s refusal.

The circular light ahead burst out. Queer, and gale-like in a manner Fu felt related to [Air Qi].

He felt his eyes widen, and a blink thereafter steaded him enough to see the mortal slam into the floor, lift, and vanish from sight.

“The mound of bodies,” gasped Mei.

A cultivator’s cruel laughter filled the hall, prompting Fu to rejoin the alcove. “A sight that never grows old,” sounded the words that followed.

“You take too much pleasure in this, Luiquao,” admonished the other. Violence complete, this sadist retrieved the pedestal’s treasure, unburdened by any source of Qi.

Creeping did not allow Fu to catch sight of the object, and much of the wall he peered around masked those ahead. Still, he had no doubt it was of great value.

“I cannot see an exit, and so we must flee before they finish,” he gestured, tracing the bare pathway they would take to leave. “When these brigands approach the next pedestal, let us steal back toward the statues.”

With no show of moving, Mei remained.

“Mei?” With one eye on the cultivators, Fu jostled her shoulder. “Mei.”

When she met his stare, he saw the teeth upon her lip. A bite harsh enough to well blood upon it. “Forgive me, senior. But I cannot. That woman, I recognize her from my mother’s time imprisoned. Luiquao. What she put my… The acts she…” The grime around Mei’s face turned dewy, darkening with moisture. “To leave her be is to dishonour my mother’s memory. Please, senior, aid me in my revenge.”

Revenge?

A slow breath was drawn, filling Fu’s lungs. “Revenge, Mei? What do you know of it? It is not a thing any should dwell on.”

Mei’s eye twitched, and it seemed as though hysteria was loosing the control she had over her own body.

Half-brushed steps edged her from the alcove, her anger plain. “Why not?” she spat, battling with restraint. “To have the same inflicted on her as was done to my mother, is it not fitting? She was tortured, and belittled, forced into labor with no respite, beaten at their whim. One who allows this to happen cannot be allowed to live.”

“Vengeance and anger are bedfellows only to misery. I understand the pain of loss, truly, but doing this only endangers us further. I cannot speak to how your mother was, but think, Mei, is this the path she would have wanted for you?”

Ridding herself of Fu’s grip, Mei tried to push out into visibility. “Think as a cultivator, senior. I implore you.” Half of her body was exposed to the hall, and half masked by the alcove. “Entire dynasties, clans or sects have fallen for the simplicity of a perceived slight. One word, or an upturned nose during a celebration can doom the less powerful. We were of the Azure Shoal Sect, senior, my Mother and I, and she would have urged me to act as they would.”

With a rising pitch of volume, it was small wonder that their voices took as long to reach the cultivators ahead as it did.

An exchange of words passed there, muted until one moved to discover the source of their voices.

The other remained.

Her weapon, and the point of Fu’s main focus, was a wicked sword. Stylized, with a harsh triangular gouge at the tip to have it appear like a protruding spike.

Mei’s response to this was to step out in challenge, the [Sun Qi] of her affinity radiating across the Bond upon her arm.

“A cultivator?” queried the woman, stopping no more than six paces distant.

A shared, animalistic hiss sounded from Mei and her lizard. “You indecent filth! Lay down your weapon and your death will be swift! As for you!” she screamed at the distant brigand. “I will scorch your flesh a thousand times for your shameless acts!”

The venom in his junior shocked Fu.

He mused that such words were those of Azure Shoal disciples, and not her own. A rage, and foulness of mouth as she now displayed were not fitting with what he knew of Mei.

Hushi tucked further into Fu’s douli, masked as Mei was joined. His appearance, expected as it may have been, alarmed the pair of brigands.

“Luiquao! We have intruders here that so willingly court death. Come, slake your thirst here, the mortals would dare not move.”

Fu spoke then, donning the airs of an expert. “Junior, stow your anger. These are simple beasts that have yet to even touch the true path against the Heavens.”

“We know of you, fisherman, lay this farce to bed,” spat the more violent of the pair.

How might they know of me? None but-

Fu recalled Hong, the toy-maker, and his understanding furthered. “Then you will know we are the same. I seek a resolution that does not end in harm.”

“Senior Fu!”

“Mei, violence is no answer,” he said, staying her with a palm. “Promise no harm, and we shall do the same. Each here know the same loss at the hands of the Cloudy Serpent Sect. Direct your anger there, not at those who suffer as you do.”

Both brigands snorted at once. “You have eyes, but you fail to see, Fu. The Sect has granted us a bounty of opportunity, we hold no anger towards it. Those who are too feeble to claim it deserve the fate that comes for them, yet we will not be blinded! How are we to join such a Sect if we lull here in weakness, denying the resources present?”

Hushi wriggled, and through their bond came uncertainty.

He senses something that I cannot. Am I to be more wary than I already am?

“This justifies your slaughter?” spat Mei.

The brigands snorted again, and the most violent made for her, slowly. “Silence your tongue on matters you know nothing of! We act as cultivators! As we please, and as we should! If lambs act as lambs, then the wolves should not be chastised for taking their fill!” A force of Qi materialised from her back, a glow that heralded the appearance of her Bond.

Fu felt the vileness of [Earth Qi], and his throat became dry. Directing his finger towards the insect that now clambered over his foe’s shoulder, his chain unfurled. “Mei, flee, I shall hold them back.”

A gout of flame burst out from his junior’s outstretched palm. It covered much of the distance between both parties, wrapping itself around the advancing brigand. “You will answer for your injustice!” she cried.

Her [Sun Qi] conjuration faded quickly, revealing blackened scorch marks across the tiles, leading to the sword-wielder.

Rock encased the recipient’s braced fists, locked before her face in an imperfect block. Flame ravaged skin clearly showed the gaps in her defence. Vile segments of raw and bubbling flesh.

She moved despite this injury, pressing at Mei in a maddened dash of swings.

Fu’s heart panged in pain, thumping progressively louder within his chest.

Is this truly the path we must lead?

On instinct, he crashed his chain into the brigand’s jaw. A hit that sent her reeling into a nearby pedestal, preceded by the crack of bone. The other woman rushed forth, and dragged her unkindly to her feet.

Her snarl, bestial and cruel.

Fu only struck again, calling for Hushi’s aid as the [Spirit Insect] reared back atop its cultivator’s broken body. It was a centipede, and the swelling it now underwent was inconsequential against his rapid, oncoming chain.

The metallic links of his weapon wrapped taught, trapping segments of its rocky, chitinous form to have the swelling unable to proceed. Other parts bulged, ballooning between the helical grasp.

Hushi bolted outwards, casting aside the douli as he flew.

Only to be caught unaware.

The second cultivator’s Bond had snapped out, emerging from a sleeve to wrestle with the octopus in similar fashion to the chain upon its ally. A serpent of dense weight and width that now constricted around Hushi’s flailing teal arms.

Secondary gouts of flame spawned from Mei’s palm to envelop the centipede, weaker than the first, yet carrying with them the same ferocious heat.

Fu recoiled in the face of it, his grip slack from a forming moisture upon his palms. Ahead, his chain turned from its cool metallic hue to glow red, and from this, he felt it slacken further.

Fragments of a ruddy Qi burst into the air moments later, and the centipede’s flesh exploded in grim fashion, pelting chitin and pebble alike in all directions. A screeching wail served as its accompaniment, and in turn, its cultivator seized upon the ground.

Fu took harried steps forward, rolling to pass by the lingering flames and round on the only cultivator still standing.

“It did not have to be like this,” he murmured. With but a flick his chain returned, and now cycled close to his side. “Mei, her Bond is ended. Is this not enough?”

It was the standing brigand that responded first, snorting. “Fool!” Her advance followed swiftly, despite standing between two foes. She charged at Fu, hacking as though he were some interminable weed.

The speed the woman exhibited was that of a [Body Cultivator], and proved a near match for his own. Yet despite graceless sweeps, and rapid lunges, it was ill managed. They traded a series of blows in which Fu either moved from her path or dissuaded her own with a lash of his chain, bringing them further to the [Reliquary’s] rear.

Further from Hushi and his own clash.

This did not lessen the occasional pang of hurt that surfaced from his Bond, though these were minor at best.

Instead, it granted Fu leave to widen his strokes, free from any harm he might bring his companions. Lash after lash tore across their arena, and the momentum turned in his favour. In a series of steps, he pushed his foe on the backfoot, her sword raised in a vertical grip to bat away each strike.

Releasing a frantic howl, the woman affected some strange shift in the surrounding Qi, one that caused her body to sing. As the next of his swings came, she ducked under it, backwards.

Her form turned supple with unparalleled flexibility, and she began to evade each of his coming attacks with major, impossible adjustments to her own posture.

The sword came with her, toted in a contortionist’s dance that had her spring and slink as though her Bond itself had overtaken her limbs.

Shocked at this, Fu felt his back reach the edge of a pedestal, faltering for but a moment.

His foe reached him then, and drove the sword a good way into his left arm. The cling of metal upon stone sounded, catching the blade before it could travel any deeper.

Fu barked out in pain, doubling his efforts as the sword was drawn back out. Hot breath cascaded across his face, and spittle fell thereafter, his foe close enough to bite him.

But the fisherman dropped, splashing a kick from the [Stifling Stream Revolutions] into her chin and cracking her head far back. He then rounded the pedestal, and another, rolling back in the series until he felt the violent hum of Qi behind him.

One of the treasures.

Not daring to touch it, he looked for his next move, even in the face of the one who chased him. Vaguely distant, the assembled mortals moved, or so he guessed. Their scrambling sounded dim, and far from this fight.

I can continue to move freely. That is good.

The length of chain was drawn between his two hands, slackened as though he were about to tie the two ends. He pulled it taught to deflect an overhead strike from the cultivator as she slashed down, and then, he twisted.

Sacrificing his already injured arm, Fu spun into the woman, skinning a good portion of his palm and wrist to arrive at her side. The chain snapped tight as he continued, looping over her chest the moment he met her rear.

Already, she tried to slither from his grasp, but he had her bound, and each link of his chain dug deeper into both shoulders and collar. “I did not wish for this,” he said, ramming his knee into the small of her back to topple her into the Qi-rich treasure before them.

A barrier was struck.

Her face stalled a thumb’s length away from a frame of sorts, ground against a build-up of energy that shredded her skin clean off.

And Fu persisted, having extended his knee to now hold her with both sole and chain, further grinding her until the Qi within this golden screen before him expulsed her. He threw himself to the ground with just enough time to see her cast into the air, vanishing but a moment later.

Here, he remained, and puffed for many a minute before beginning his slow walk back to Mei.

An eerieness had fallen, stark against the pounding of his heart and the throbbing that splashed fresh droplets of blood from his injuries. Quiet, and of a solemn sort.

Mei knelt in a pool of red, so clear that Fu saw her face reflected there. Streaked in dewy moisture, though from tear or viscera he could not say. This same red clung to her hands, and in the hilt within her grasp, its other half buried in a brigand’s neck.

At his approach, she stayed dormant, drawing only intermittent, ragged sobs.

Facing this, Fu put any thoughts of his own aside, and knelt beside her. It brought Mei to shudder, or something close, and he steadied her with a reassuring squeeze. “Your mother may rest now,” he said, hiding the doubt and wrongness he truly felt. “For her daughter is truly kind and diligent, to see her will through even now.”