An embrace of violet petals was the screen before Fu’s vision as he awoke. A canopy that gently swayed before his pained body rose to sit upright.

His thoughts were dislocated, a blur within his mind that were taking long moments to order into some semblance of coherence, and of those thoughts, the item within his lap aligned first.

The woven edge of his douli felt sharp to his fingertips, and Fu gazed at the conical hat in strange disbelief.

Did I not lose this in the waters?

But promptly, he placed it back upon his head where it belonged.

How it came to be here was of no consequence, and by far the least of his concerns.

Fu stood upright, finding himself within a vast meadow of flowers, framed by a cliff’s edge and of course, a glittering paifang to his rear. The ornate gate was delivering bodies en-masse, spitting forth dishevelled mortals such as himself, bloodied and ragged.

Collecting his thoughts, he watched as hundreds stood and wept, or knelt or fell. Then he focused his gaze on those that did not, those that moved swiftly to gain distance from the gate and to head further into the meadows and to what lay beyond.

To their eyes, which am I?

Quickly, he dismissed the thought. The night’s events had turned him pensive, and inaction would not save him here. “A Spirit Core,” he said aloud, trying to sift through what he knew about such heavenly matters while beginning to trudge away from the paifang.

Speaking drew the attention of a nearby man, a rotund, shirtless fellow with a series of blackened marks upon his chest. Ink, though a punishment by mortal hands, and not one enforced by the gods. “I hear your confusion,” he bellowed, his voice growing more thunderous as he neared. “If we are to search for a cultivator’s treasure, then must we not first know what it is we seek?”

Knowing this fellow to be a criminal, Fu was immediately wary. While not short himself, he had to crane his neck to reply. “You will find a Spirit Core within any beast, new brother,” he said, wincing from his various injuries. “Any beast here.”

The loud man stroked the chief among his many chins. “Brother? Yes, brothers of circumstance are we not? Forgive my ignorance!” As low as his gut would allow, the man hastily bowed. “I am Da Zhu, and memory is not a thing I am blessed with!”

Fu half bowed back, his lower back flaring. “Gao Fu,” he said. “Are we all tasked the same? To enter the Mystic Realm and retrieve a Core?”

“Yes, Brother Fu. I extend gratitude for the instruction! It will not be hard to locate a beast and ask it for its core!” Then Zhu set off, jiggling his way through the violet flowers.

To ask for its core? Is this man touched in the head?

Regarding the way that the man blissfully stomped off, Fu thought it was likely.

A core cannot be… given. Can it?

His knowledge was unrefined, and missing in many parts, but that was not how he knew it to be done.

Quickly, he called after Zhu, hobbling to walk at his side. Fu’s trial far outstripped that of any others, and every second wasted caused his heart to further tremble. But he could not leave this man to die from ignorance, it would not be right.

“Do you know what a Spirit Core is, Brother?” he asked.

Zhu shook his head. “An apple has a core, does it not? The two share a name, and can’t be so far apart that I couldn’t recognize one!”

“Do you know what a cultivator is?”

Zhu scrunched up his eyes. “Of course! My memory is not quite so bad as that!” He laughed, despite where they walked and why they walked there. “A cultivator is one who steals Qi from the Heavens and spouts flames from their eyes!”

Touched in the head, or simple?

Fu studied the ink on Zhu now that he was closer, a series of hands imprinted on the man’s breasts that marked him as a thief.

Many marks.

“That is one part of the truth. I was told once that Qi is a poison to cultivators, and that they cannot… steal it, on their own. It’s their Bond that does the stealing, done through the Spirit Core.”

“Brother Fu, are you a scholar?”

“I am a fisherman,” he said, wishing he hadn’t shook his head.

“Then what you catch must be as sly as foxes, for you are far wiser than any fisherman I’ve ever known!” The bombastic man slapped Fu on the back, and it drove him to the ground in a heap.

Fu gasped out in agony, straining to lift himself.

The fool will doom me without meaning to do so.

A hand plucked him from the ground by his tunic, and sections of it ripped before he was upright once more. “Look there, brother Fu!” Zhu roared, gesturing to the ends of the meadow where a wide river gently flowed, and to the glowing silhouettes against the bamboo forest behind it. “I spy my next meal, and what a delicacy venison is!”

Hundreds of deer were gathered in a herd on the opposing side of the river, their heads all swivelled in the direction of the Paifang.

A glimmer of light was present amongst them all, their fur ablaze in a variety of vibrant, orange hues. In the face of the thunderous oaf’s roars, they did not flee as mortal deer might, but regarded the scene instead.

Here stands the true trial. Any one of those Spirit Beasts could slaughter us with ease, and now, as I am…

Fu cursed his useless body.

I must be wily. The Thousand Shore Mystic Realm only allows for Mortals to pass through, and the Heavens would not…

For a moment, he paused.

I will find a way. Even if it flies in the face of them.

“Do not fret! Those deer are large, I am sure they have many cores! Perhaps I too will learn to shoot fire from my eyes! Tell me, Brother Fu, do you know how it is done?”

Something in Zhu’s tone there gave Fu pause, and he regarded the man. “The mysteries of the Heavens are not for a fisherman to know,” he said. “You think too highly of me.”

“A shame,” replied the man, storming off towards the river.

🀧

Others had long since moved on by the time that Fu had stumbled along the river’s edge, following it until he had come to the mouth of a wide valley. The walk had given him time to collect his thoughts.

Now, reeds bent in his hands, crossed in a lattice of others to provide the final touch in a modest basket he had crafted. And then he nodded.

This will do.

With the utmost care he placed the base between two rocks, having the mouth point upstream and into the gentle current. It was an uninspired, yet two fold plan.

He was a fisherman, not a hunter or warrior, unable to hunt and corner any number of the Spirit Beasts that roamed this Mystic Realm. So too, did he need food, and this method would hopefully see both rewarded.

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Fu had a Season to complete this task, a Season he would not survive should he starve within the first few days.

Returning to shore, he sifted through a small bundle of weeds that he had collected in his now repaired douli, common spirit grasses, though of a finer quality than those he commonly found on the banks of Thousand Shore City.

A bare trace of Qi existed in those compared to the brimming energy in each blade here, and hesitantly, he swallowed the bitter weeds.

What he had told Da Zhu was close to the truth. Qi was poisonous to mortals and cultivators alike, though only when in contact with a person’s soul. To imbibe lesser amounts was actually quite beneficial to the body, even if none could be stockpiled without a Bond to…

Fu tried to recall the words, frowning as he did so. Cultivation had never been of any interest to him, and it was a world he had only touched upon in conversation.

“Mei. You would fare better here, I would think.” He pushed another bitter wad of grasses into his mouth and chewed, using it to suppress his heartache.

A disturbance sounded in the waters nearby, and he was both thankful for the interruption and shocked at the speed at which he had caught something.

Three carp thrashed about his container, and he staggered into the waters to scoop them up before they could escape. With their weight, and the weight of the current against him, he was wary coming back to shore. Of the three, only one shed any sort of luminescence, and it was a paler sort of blue light.

Small, and foolish enough to be caught. It may not be fully formed. I will not know until I check.

Though rare, the occasional Spirit Beast would sometimes appear in his nets back home.

More omen than blessing, as the havoc they wrought on his implements, thrashing and tearing his nets, cost more in time and tael than he was willing to spend on the potential goldmine that capturing it might bring.

For this reason he slung the creatures to the shore, having them land in a depression of earth he had dug using nearby stones.

They slopped about as he crushed their heads, wet blood spraying across the hole to make the others slippier as a result. But Fu’s grip was sure, calloused and well practised, and the carp fell limp.

A snarl escaped from the other side of the river, and Fu rounded, falling back over the hole to face the sound’s origin.

Fur bristling with a surrounding breeze of Qi, a small humanoid creature stood there.

An ape of some description that had a long, bulbous nose upon a hairless face, tinged a light grey, rather than the bright rouge of its haired body.

It snarled again, gouging the ground in warning.

With the depression between his legs, Fu slowly wove his fingers into the broken flesh of the fish he suspected might have a core, driving them through bones and guts. The ape edged closer, leaping back and forth without moving too far from where it had appeared. A fledgling bamboo forest was set at its back, and Fu’s attention was split on both.

I could offer it freely, or throw the fish from the edge.

Suddenly his eyes widened, the tips of his fingers touching upon a jolt of Qi. A sphere was within, no larger than a clay marble. Fu dug deeper, edging it free to slowly enter it into his palm.

Further rouge-coloured shapes landed on the opposing bank, first ten apes, and then more. Significantly more.

A flash of embers rose from their fur, an aura rising like that of a dying fire, and ashen smoke billowed forth. He did not wait as the nearby spirit grasses were dried and withered, catching alight in the wake of waves of distorted heat.

Fu flung the three carcasses across the river, hoping it would appease the apes as he staggered into the valley. Bouts of animalistic Intent crashed against his back, and he shivered against the projected desires of violence. Chewing the spirit grasses had not healed his injuries, but there were some reserves of strength it had filled, allowing him to pound across the ground with a half-jogged gait.

Fresh pain stung his skin and aching bones, but he drove ever onward with the Spirit Core pressed so tight within his palm that he knew his skin would be bruised by the end. He roared out in pain as stones began to pelt him, blazing hot. They fell in a rain around him, striking his back and shoulders, thumping his legs to cause another stagger.

Fu smashed into the river, smacking his chest off a protruding rock before the current took hold of him.

However fast the river flowed through, the Spirit Apes were faster. A slope in the valley caused the river to sharply descend, growing deeper and dragging his head beneath the surface. He caught glimpses of his pursuers as he kicked up, water streaming across his vision and filling his gasping lungs. The apes were leaping from stone to stone now, split in number to chase him from both the shore and the river.

Fu felt the pelting of stones lessen through the water, yet the temperature was rising as a result. Qi boiled the waters around him, each stone a minor heat, though one that churned out like a furnace in concert with the others. Still, he clutched the Spirit Core, pressing the hand close to his chest as he kicked and struggled downstream.

Through bursting gasps he spied the river widening, and he dove beneath to provide a modicum more cover from the apes.

Until a furred hand wrenched him up by the front of his tunic.

The claws upon its free hand slashed across his chest, birthing a welt of blood in five tears. Fu spluttered out water with his cry, flailing at the ape that had caught him.

The thumping in his chest was deafening, matched by the howling and jabbering of the surrounding beasts as they fell back at his captor’s command. It roared from east to west, making it clear that this prey, was its own, and driving the oncoming apes back to further distant stone and shore.

Fu bunched his fist, lashing out at the ape and birthing pain in his wrist as it met a face as rigid as stone. Its jaws opened wide, exposing a mouth not unlike his own save for four colossal fangs that smouldered like the fur upon their backs. The ape howled a wash of hellish spittle forward, and Fu’s already cracked skin broke into further blisters upon contact.

His hands slapped against the ape’s face as it raked him again, streaks upon his neck this time. Blood trailed down his sorry, sodden state, and the sight enraged him.

I swore that the Heavens would not keep me from my children. These beasts-

Fu made a claw of his own, forcing his blood-soaked fingers into the ape’s eyes.

It howled as he scraped the foul sponginess, pushing the poor strength of his arm deeper and deeper until he felt the ape’s grip drop from him completely.

Water embraced him once more, and in those moments he drew in more air and dove. Fu battered the river senseless on his way to the bottom, plumes of crimson staining the once gentle water, and did not stop kicking until his lungs were fit for bursting.

The current pulled him rapidly along, and as all fishermen knew, it was easier to go with it than against it. He relaxed, shifting to place his feet before him as to guide his path. Twice was the number of the times that he resurfaced, and each time he did he saw the apes were falling further and further behind.

On the third, he saw that he was fully clear.

Triumphantly, Fu kicked to keep himself afloat, realising that the river was now wide enough to be called a small lake. The same current drew it further into the valley, and bamboo-covered hills spread over the surrounding shores.

A shoreline quite some distance away.

With no preference to his destination, Fu felt out at the water and acclimated to how it moved around him. Sprawling, he puffed his chest with air and lay back, ignoring the fresh pain as each small wave passed over his wounds. He was entirely broken, and with each kick of his legs he fought to keep the pain from darkening his vision and dooming him to a watery grave.

When he finally reached the shore, he lay there for long minutes, coughing and heaving amidst the mud and reeds. But quickly he forced a calm, knowing that such noise would draw more undue attention.

Fu rolled to his front, a lazy hump that caused his hat to fall, suspended by the fresh chain of reeds he had attached. Gathered there he saw crimson droplets cascade through every gap in its crafting.

A long day-

His reflection was cut short by another noise, and he cursed openly for even the Heavens to hear. Sound carried through the bamboo ahead, many paces from where he languished in his broken heap.

Voices?

He tried to push higher, and fell as a result, embedding much dirt in each gash to bring his eyes to tears.

This time he rose slowly, a stand that took him a good minute to achieve. The forest ahead was young, and the stalks were not nearly as impassible as many places he had seen from the safety of his boat.

With staggered steps, he moved forward, pasting the mud across his chest to staunch some of the bleeding.

With any hope, voices may mean help. So Fu pressed on, donning his soggy douli and trying to glean the source.

The recognizable drumming of wings sounded at the shoreline nearby, a flock of mortal birds that had taken flight at his passing.

With the Summer sun still high, he could not catch the unmistakable radiance of a Spirit Beast among them, but neither could he fly to trap any, so he merely continued. Here, deeper into the Mystic Realm, life flourished. Where an empty meadow had stretched around the Paifang, this valley was lush and vibrant in life.

Many of the beasts, to Fu’s relief, were grass eaters.

A crackle of Qi was present in many. From the crystalline rabbits that scattered into their burrows, to the variety of elementally charged birds pecking away at fallen cane of bamboo. Even the insects drawn held a show of their spiritual nature, one in every few dozen consumed.

Though these were aberrant creatures, as was their right. The infusion of Qi within them often swelled them in size, or added features not normally found among their kin, as attributed to the affinity they held.

Fu knew of higher stage Spirit Beasts only from tales, and whether from the damp now thoroughly within his injured skin or at the mere thought of how terrible they might be, he shuddered quite violently.

This forced a stop in his travels, and had him clinging to a stalk of bamboo on the forest’s edge to steady himself. The voices came again then, punctuated with a shrill, bone-chilling scream.

Blinking away the spots that had appeared across his vision, Fu peered through the forest, the light dimming rapidly the deeper he focused. No shapes were present, not even a blur of motion detectable in the gloom.

The breaking of feet sounded to his left, a thumping that rushed from the forest’s depths.

He sighed to see a stoat burst free, panicked and rapid. A frantic pace showed in its run, and it did so with a limp, heading towards the shore.

A stoat does not scream.

Fu rode the stalk down, scraping down to a crouch. The thumping rose in volume, and another figure burst from the forest to repeat those previous screams. A woman emerged. She scrambled many times, falling over herself with something clutched to her chest, much as he did.

He was about to call out, going so far as to extend a hand before the sound caught in his throat. Coughing overcame him, and the woman’s eyes widened upon seeing him there. Before any words were exchanged, she changed course and put her all into creating distance from the forest.

“Sister, come back,” cooed a feminine voice, closer to Fu than he would have liked. “We want only for that core in your hands.”

Two more emerged, and Fu slunk lower before they could spot him.

Bandits, or thieves. If violence was not threatened then the woman would not have screamed.

Guilt ate at him as he shifted behind more stalks, knowing that to stand idly by was to allow such misfortune to happen.

But that to intervene would spell both his ruin, and that of his family.

Are the cultivators not enough to hate? Must we mortals show such cruelty too?

Eyes wide, Fu saw the two figures emerge, a man following the female speaker and both equally as ragged. Yet a marked difference showed as a toad leapt from the woman’s shoulder, glowing as it harried their prey.

The bound saw it grow to the size of a common house cat, carrying it high through the air with an aura of something roiling and yellow. A match of the creature’s own illuminated flesh. Its tongue carried this same flavor of Qi, yet it was too far and Fu was too inexperienced to know which of the myriad types it was. The length whipped against their quarry, and the woman toppled almost immediately.

Ahead, the scene grew slowly more distant, and Fu did not know why. They had stopped moving, the shore at their front and the-

Without realising, he had backed further away.

Even as he looked at his treacherous feet more blockades of bamboo were placed between them, obscuring the figures from sight. A fear rose in him, and it was commanding his movements.

One has become a cultivator already, they are bonded. And so soon.

He felt his face drain of all colour, the chill up his spine now common since this night had begun.

Fu gripped the Spirit Core tight in his palm, and committed to turning fully. There was nothing he could do for the woman, and… and his family must come first, no matter the evil that transpired here.

Swallowing, Fu turned and fled, pulling his douli lower so that it might drown out the continuous, echoing screams that shook the valley into uproar.