The [Spirit Roaches]’s many bodies moved in no form of concert, and this was ample for Fu to cross their backs as though they were naught but stepping stones.

A danger more profound than their snapping mandibles presented in the lapping fog of Blight, cast upwards by the currents of his passage. Reaching for Fu with each step and bound, as if chasing in his wake.

His [Senses] drenched in the cloying odour. But he remained steadfast in his passage, all the same, praying to the Heavens that Senior Cheng Rao held some plan in store.

For this expert’s Qi was circulating the area, painting the scene in a tapestry of azure blots. A smudge, or stain that brushed through the Blight, consuming, and converting it. RIdding the ridge of the [Dao Field].

Fu found himself fifteen beasts from salvation by the time a great wash of power swept through him. Wind-like, without physical form, and one that pressed against both his [Senses] and [Insight].

Issuing a challenge, tight around his mind.

It was no [Intent], yet he felt a certain emotion behind it, strong enough to lock his limbs in surprise, having him wobble. Having him hold atop the back of a [Spirit Roach] that had similarly frozen in place.

A mirror to each of its kin, for all bore a hypnotic gaze towards the [Dao] that both blessed, and terrorised respectively.

The blots birthed a flurry of feathers. Magnificent, and azure. A purpose to how they graced the air across the ridge’s span, motionless, save for the gentle rustle of each flue as it radiated with shallow light.

And Fu gaped, his fingers, moving unbid-

Only a fool would waste this chance.

He retracted his hand, unsure why he reached for the feather, and urged his feet forward. A heaviness to both that defied his will. Cheng Rao’s [Dao], for in truth, it could be nothing else, deepened in colour, shaking.

The other disciples were not so distant, if only he might reach them. If only he could leap a handful of times.

“Hushi,” growled Fu.

His Bond started as though woken from a trance, prompting his spread of arms to jostle the tender flesh where he clung. To the octopus’ credit, his recovery took less than a heartbeat, and he impressed an urgency to travel from this unknown [Dao Principle] before it could release whatever was building.

A feeling shared by Fu.

He felt feeble against this force, a [Core Formation Realm] power, if that was indeed how it worked. In matters of the [Dao], he had many questions, consigned as they were for another time. As such, he searched internally for the instrument to free him.

Wondering, if his own [Dao of Reach] might prevail.

So he pushed, and to his shock, [Intent] spilled forth.

Unlike his brush with Grandmother Hua, recalling the brief flash she had drawn from him, this was an infusion. Enough to fortify his mind with a strength of emotion.

Of soul.

Fu stumbled a half-step, and broke with haste, able to clear the length of [Spirit Roaches] not a moment too soon.

All around, the feathers warped in appearance. The iris flared, to the best of Fu’s guesswork, warned of this by his peripheral sight, and loosed the energy within.

It had his heart chill, as though plunged into an icy pool. A contrast to the intense heat that drew a grime of sweat down his spine, not birthed of either his flight nor expended effort.

Hushi then clutched his arm so tight it spurted fresh blood, impressing upon him a dread the likes of which Fu had witnessed only twice before.

Once, when Mei had passed, and the second, upon the destruction of his home. When he had thought his children gone.

The scouring fear he attributed to loss.

A third, then flashed in Mei.

He clutched tight at his chest upon meeting the ranks of his fellow disciples, feeling pale and emptied. They, however, were as he was, until Fu brushed the shoulder of one.

Mutters about a daughter broke in his ear. But fled as quickly as they had come. “Brother,” said Fu. “Wake from this feeling.”

His Bond, a [Spirit Crow], feathered in red and a-crackle with [Lightning Qi], descended to warn Fu off. No doubt possessed of this mass-fear that held his comrades gripped.

“Hushi, can you calm this friend?” he asked, grasping the shoulder of another of the assembled.

But he moved then, swiftly, making his way through the line of two dozen or so, shaking those he passed with evident futility.

Behind, the [Spirit Roaches], or indeed, the entire tide of beasts remained caught.

Enchanted, but Fu wondered on how long it would hold. By the time he had pushed deep into his comrades, he had given up on shaking them free, cursing under his breath.

When suddenly, the first of the force pressed by him.

He swayed in the direction of the one that had touched his shoulder. Seeing there, an older woman. And to his side, a younger man. A child of Yuling’s resemblance next, with a [Spirit Hound] at her side, loyally in step.

A third of their number, pacing, stepped from the ridge before Fu could process what was happening.

Horror stirred the ambient fear of Cheng Rao’s [Dao Principle], bringing his heart to slow. One beat no less deafening, and no less profound than that which followed.

“Stop this,” he said. Though he heard the quiet in his voice. The uncertainty. “Do not throw your lives away!”

Fu rushed to block a woman, bracing his shoulder into her chest. The pain startled her from this march. Enough, at the least, to speak. “The rocks are a kindness,” she whispered. “Please, brother.”

His foot rolled in compliance.

If only by a fraction in the moments it took him to collect himself.

A hand came to crest the woman’s shoulder. Hushi having roused the [Spirit Crow’s] cultivator into action. “Junior sister,” he barked. “Rid yourself of this shameful act. I see the hold is broken, and thus you will push past. Our Sect has need of you yet.”

These words were not those Fu would have spoken.

A cultivator’s words.

“Sisters! Brothers! Hopefuls!” the man bellowed, pointing his jian to the skies. “Dispel the clouds and see the sun, for your lives are not your own to give!”

Unbridled [Killing Intent] leaked from him, a blanket of garnet-hued miasma, and quite representative of what Fu saw upon his face. The rage, and dishonour, and how the blade this cultivator held might be put to resolving it.

In a step, the woman broke her hold, and leapt with a [Might] that surpassed Fu’s own. [Killing Intent] seizing his faculties.

“Ragh!” snarled the cultivator. “These Hopeful swine, they forget favour and violate justice. A pig’s death is fitting.” His anger landed upon Fu. “Brother- junior brother. [Foundation Realm]?” The snarl rose again, a rumble in both men’s chests.

As was natural, Fu bowed low. Supplicating himself so he might escape the ire, and only releasing when the stirring bodies around him proved a greater priority.

He was stormed by, and followed the man until he levied his blade in Cheng Rao’s direction, enveloping his jian in the same red energy as his [Killing Intent].

Trace amounts of Qi blazed like a beacon. “The Heavens send us a gift in senior Cheng Rao, and we will not refuse their mercy! Rally, sisters! Rally brothers! Let us rid our great Sect of the filth that dares muddy our just path!”

🀦

A bloody swathe of hours passed until night descended on the [Mystic Realm], a span that saw no return of the same ferocity displayed on the ridge. Rather, the lives cut short were caused by the prowling, mundane packs of [Spirit Beasts] that broke their ranks.

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Enraged by the transgressions of the humans that roamed untouched by Blight.

“Gratitude, brother!”

Fu sailed above the sweeping ji in a backspring, having the hooked bill miss his scalp by an inch of space before landing. There he fell to a knee, spent both in body and mind.

He had no need to watch his Sect sister’s blade gut the [Spirit Ape], nor had a need to check if it had struck any of Hushi’s grappling arms, for this tactic of restrain-and-switch was now a well honed art.

It was the last of the beasts to fall, and when it did, the formation of cultivators sagged in shared relief.

Many took a knee, or huffed themselves upon the detritus of ruined structures, taking what breaths they might in the calm. Fu was no different, and yet, even ragged, he made his way to the closest corpse.

Debt, ever on his mind.

On his third harvest, he was surprised to hear XIanyi’s voice behind. “Brother Fu,” she greeted, and a moment later, placed a dagger in his view. “The ground is not shy of weapons.”

Fu grunted his thanks, dropping one third of his chain. A severed length of metal trailed, with no rope to follow.

He found, after accepting the gift, that a dagger allowed him to retrieve the [Spirit Core] in a time that far surpassed that of the half-corroded links he had used to scoop flesh free.

The pair stole to the next set of corpses with no further words, for a time, but Fu was greatly reassured at her presence. If somewhat in disbelief that she had survived. Not for thoughts of her skills, or [Prowess].

But in that to look upon the slaughter now, where countless of his fellow disciples had fallen, it seemed impossible that any might still live.

He felt Hushi return to his arm, scaling it to re-enter the douli. Or what tatters remained of it. His impression shared a need to replenish their [Inner Qi] as he dropped a set of six [Spirit Cores] into Fu’s waiting hand.

I can fit no more in my pouch. But this shall see me through another [Season]. Should we survive it.

A small comfort.

“Sister Xianyi,” he broke, the sole section of his now tripartite chain his hand. “What do you know of our task?”

Xianyi’s lips tightened. “No more than you. We are to march to the next Bastion, reclaiming it.”

Ambient [Air Qi] entered his [Dantian] proper, and it caused him to twinge before speaking again. “This place holds more bodies than last we saw it, no? We are not so distant from the [Paifang]. Or abouts.”

“I recall.”

Fu firmed his jaw. “Then a journey awaits us yet.”

“It does.” Xianyi finished her harvest. “You have thoughts on this, Gao Fu?”

“An oar is needed to pass through stirring waters.”

They walked as his comment hung in the air, at each other’s side. And an assembly was joined, one moving, and one that had grown ever distant from Cheng Rao.

Until now, Fu noted. For their senior had stopped beneath an ivy-thick arch, facing them with clasped hands.

His greeting gesture was strangely warm, and the tone of near-hewn disapproval had gone from his face. Though he waited for the volume of disciples to rise before his lips were to move, holding them in just less than a smile.

“For all that it is worth, this daoist is pleased. Humbled, by dedication, no matter how small a tribulation is faced.” Cheng Rao’s words carried out, instilling a certain vigour. Giving rise to chests, or straightening spines that did not wish to stand. “But beneath the eyes of the Heavens, and their betters, this is still lacking.”

A chest beat some paces from Fu, fervent. Inspiring a sensation of [Intent] that Fu had yet to witness. Ascending tendrils of black, framed in gold. Coalescing into a singular, serpentine silhouette in the space above those who lent their fists to the sound.

Cheng Rao quieted it with a pleased smile. “This day has revealed much of the character that must be fostered in our great Sect, and is only fitting for the approach of [Summer]. The [Season] of everlasting, and continuation. Thus, this daoist will remark on his pleasure again, and share now the words that this glimpse of dedication has afforded you.” He spread the sleeves of his hanfu wide, surging a pattern of azure specks behind him.

An octagonal shape formed, connected by lines, holding varying degrees of brightness.

“Duty takes us to the Southwestern Canyon Bastion,” he continued. “As it takes our sister Sects to the Northwestern Sea Bastion, where we will reclaim the [Coiling Star Defensive Array]. Ceding the fortifications from the [Mystic Realm’s] control, and staffing each until the final can be taken.”

From the control of the [Mystic Realm] itself? Grand words, and they do not seem to hold much effect. As though such a thing is beneath him.

“Take heart, disciples, for your comrades follow behind. This daoist well knows how the eels have been culled, and how it might press upon the true serpents seen here. More will come to be forged in opportunity, and in turn, will have the Sect hale for the [Trial’s] conclusion. For when all eight Bastions are secured, the [Reliquary] will open. Shown only to those that distinguish themselves.”

Upon utterance of that word, [Reliquary], the pounding escalated. And perhaps, as he was pensive on these matters, Fu was among the few to note how Cheng Rao’s face darkened at the reply.

🀦

A starry canvas hung overhead while Fu and Xianyi replenished their Qi. Both were in the lotus position, and both had taken roost upon the top of the arch where Cheng Rao had addressed their cohort.

Safe, under the promise of their senior, and bid to recuperate. Which they had done for many an hour now.

When Fu roused it was to the scene of Xianyi, her eyes level to his own, and leaning, whereas he still sat. “Sister.”

“Senior Rao’s words. What did you take from them?” she asked.

He wondered on this for a moment, having poured his focus into repair and replenishment during cultivation. Leaving little room for idle thought. Though he erred on the side of caution. “Our senior is generous to reveal his plan to us.”

Xianyi took to his words immediately. “Under his guidance we might all advance by leaps and bounds.” The pair settled into quiet. Another form of promise sure to follow if they would speak shamefully within their senior’s range of [Senses].

“Do you think us worthy of reaching the end?” Fu said, careful with his words.

“I would put stock in the oar you mentioned, Gao Fu.”

“Then we should walk, for I do not believe he would have fallen.”

🀦

The area where the Cloudy Serpent Sect occupied was a stretch of ruins set between two walls, where rampant, verdant growth had bogged down the crumbling stone to such a degree that the land bulged.

Here, strewn wide, they passed a great many cultivators.

Hushi led as he fanned the air from beneath his midden, wafting mild scents to Fu in the hopes of finding what he sought.

“I am a poor tracker,” he admitted, having searched for the time it takes one to eat a meal. “And Yongwu Long had no odour I might place.”

Xianyi gave a curt nod. “The [Spirit Carp] proves similarly troublesome to find. Gold among green should shine more.”

For all that he knew of Yongwu Long, Fu was surprised that he had not caused some form of scene that they might locate him by.

He was an audacious sort, and a mystery. Having traded few words about him to Xianyi during the walk it seemed his exploits during the Placement were enough for her to recall his name.

They passed to the furthest edge of the walls, opposite to where they had cultivated, noting the thinning crowds. A stray whimper here, or lone cultivators that started at the first sign of nearing footsteps.

“Hopefuls,” he whispered, his chest somewhat tightening.

“I think they would know in which group they belong, Gao Fu.” Xianyi called him to stop, peeling back one edge of her sleeve. “Denglong. Seek.”

Hushi stopped his fanning, impressing his curiosity as a singular [Spirit Firefly] emerged from its fabric burrow. Silver, and a finger and a half’s length between tip and rear. It flew off, silent, and at a pace’s distance, two more took to the air.

Then another four, followed by eight, set to seek in differing directions.

“[Air Qi], and [Winter]. We share a similarity, Sister Xianyi.”

She firmed her jaw, ignoring his comment. “There is a toll of Qi to have Denglong split like this. I am placing my trust in you to use this [Art] so close to battle.”

“Gratitude.”

Xianyi swivelled, displeased. “There,” she gestured, hinting at a space that was no more than a pace from their closest mound. Suffice it to say, she recalled her Bond as they rounded the edge, and came upon Yongwu Long mid-cultivation.

To disturb another’s cultivation was taboo, thus they granted him space so that their conversation might not distract him. Though few more words were exchanged, given how Xianyi moved to enter the lotus position herself.

Fu began the first motions from the [Stifling Stream Revolutions], claiming a stretch of ground beside the wall where he might not intrude upon either comrade. He dropped the head of his chain, suppressing a sigh.

Now weaponless, he felt the best course was to progress in his unarmed technique, though what effect they would have upon the [Spirit Beasts] was dubious at best.

This, he started slowly. For while the style had been mastered to the [Initiate] level, it did not sit in memory with the same clarity as his [Wind Phantom Strides].

I do not wish to foster bad habits. Perhaps I should work on its speed instead? Or on balance while moving?

The former option called to him more, and thus he passed through the motions with increased haste each turn. The [Inner Qi] he had replenished stirred, crashing into his [Impurities] as he did, yet at no greater rate than before.

Somewhere north of the twelfth set, Xianyi appeared before him. “Gao Fu.”

He acknowledged her a moment before he dropped down for the overhead kick, rotating to see the set finished to completion. His [Channels] well warm from the activity within. But she did not start to speak, rather, she moved in front to cross her palm against his fist.

Which was curious.

“We were both granted the same time within the Scroll Hall. Yet your chain and fist move as though tutored.”

Fu nodded. “The Heavens smiled upon me in the Thousand Shore [Mystic Realm]. A benefactor crossed my path, but for his help, I will not speak on it further.”

“A fateful encounter, then?” asked Xianyi.

“A blessing. For without his help I would lie in the stomach of a beast. Would that I had something to offer him other than my silence, I might repay my debt.”

Xianyi pivoted upon a foot, coming to his side. “Before the Cloudy Serpent Sect I had no notion of the pedestal that [Arts] and techniques are placed on. The path trodden is sacred to those who walk it. What insight into the [Dao], or the [Principle]. [Boons], [Prowess]. It is secreted, and shameful to ask upon.”

“Are you saying that the debt I hold is more profound than I know?”

“No Gao Fu. I wish for you to teach me, for with you, I care little for this shame.”

Fu pulled into a stance. “Another similarity, then,” he said. “Treat me kindly, sister. My skill lies more in trawling than teaching.”

His fist struck out, where he held it for Xianyi to mirror.

Laughter burst from behind.

Though he did not rise, Yongwu Long made his waking known. “Brother Fu! Surely there’s better places to offer to share bed and mat? Shameful, I’d thought better of you.”

“It is our intention to… trade pointers,” he said.

Yongwu Long laughed again. “Why brother! Sister! That’s even worse.”