…and the Divine Vermillion Storm Ape remained last, breaking the oceans with each enraged pound of her chest.

For she was never considered the wisest of her kin, nor the most pious towards her Heavenly forebears.

Her mantle was pride, and to inspire it among those deserving.

Not these humans, who were, to her, as aberrant as the Qi pilfering Demons. She was unwilling to share her Elements, nor her Dao or Arts.

Not freely.

Thus came her Tyranny of Seasons, and what she viewed to be a worthy penance for these divine gifts.

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

An echoing sob broke the bloodied seal that held Fu’s eyes shut. Cracking strands of his own leaking wounds tore then, leaving a dim light to crack through. Muted pain, in comparison to the hell his body was suffering.

“Hushi,” he weakly croaked, oblivious to his surroundings. Concern trumped what potential dangers may stalk nearby; concern, and shame.

The barest hint of emotion travelled through their bond, settling his worried heart. In the passing minutes, laid still and broken, he became more and more aware of the state of things.

He was bound in fabrics, foul smelling, that bandaged the worst of his injuries. Some upon his arm, his legs and back, with the greatest clotting the ooze that trailed from the talon-birthed grooves across his face.

“Hushi,” he croaked again, finding that something shuffled by his head.

A wet, slapping sound as though flesh moved across stone. Slowly, a set of teal arms crossed his vision, playing at his face in reassuring fashion. They stroked at the blood-crusted detritus at his eyelids, scoring, yet removing all that blocked sight of his surroundings.

“Are you… well?”

The octopus pressed close, affirming only that he was here, and nothing else.

Fu scraped together the energy to pull himself up, and gazed at a point on a tiled ceiling to retain his focus on anything but the agony within his ribcage. The world gyrated around him, a blur of darkened shapes lit only by a source of trailing sunlight above, taking many a minute to settle into something discernable.

Yet to his horror, the smell came first. A [Summer] rot, meaty and thick.

Through no Qi inspired qualities, it broadened as he sensed it. An oppressive warmth of aged flesh that filled not only his nostrils, but his mouth and eyes. Though he could not move further to mask it.

Either from injury, or from shock.

A mound of hundreds of corpses were strewn about the floorspace, this tiled hall of stone and pillar. Splattered remnants, dismembered and sallow.

By the Heavens. Where am I?

For a moment, he recalled the blistering rage that had overcome him. The undeniable fury at feeling Hushi’s life ebbing away. And in that moment, he worried.

Even when his Mei had passed from the world, he had never felt such anger. Loss in abundance, pain and anguish, but not rage.

He shook thoughts of his beloved from his mind, unwilling to tarnish her memory in the face of this slaughter. This was not a fitting scene to recall one so cherished and joyous.

Thus he looked past the bodies, beyond the narrow gap in the ceiling no doubt stained brown by their entry to this vile place, and settled his gaze upon the wailing young woman.

Doubled over, Mei held a mangled corpse between her legs. A crutch, each, supporting the head of one half-crushed and mulched.

Here her tears fell like a [Spring] shower, cascading without cessation. Whimpers of muted words chirped from her mouth like sounds born of a mewling pup, sounds without use or meaning, evocative yet nonsensical.

And Fu found he could not move towards her, consigned to languish in his pain while she bore hers alone. “Mei,” he called, a squeak through broken parts.

She looked up, her face half cleaned in a warpaint of grime, pale skin exposed in streaks that ran in channels from her eyes. “Senior… Fu,” she choked.

An unexpected show of formality caught Fu by surprise, and he felt her emotional state to be truly dire if she had deigned to seek any wisdom from him. Now was not the time to correct her address, and he motioned for her to come close, curling pained fingers his way.

Mei’s head returned to a dangle, and only filled the halls with louder sobs. He understood this reticence to leave her mother’s side, for he too, had known much loss.

Against his best interests, he placed a hand, muffling the guttural sounds that pain introduced to his lips.

Fu then slithered and crawled, some violent variation of a shuffle that edged him closer to the young woman. An undignified dance of scraped limbs across stone that finally saw him at her side, where he reached out.

Her head jerked to him, a furious snap, something raw held in her eyes. “My mother-”

“I know,” Fu interrupted, palming her shoulder.

“She-”

“Let her rest now.” Mei wildened in her movements, trying to squirm from his gentle grip. But it stayed firm, and he tightened.

They held this position, and a steadfast gaze for many a minute, silent all the while. Fu knew she sought reassurance, and he offered all he could. A small collection of moments could be spent in this reflection, but given the events prior to his waking, they could not linger.

The sobbing lessened in its course, with a cool serenity coming to replace it. This place offered no other source of sound, and nothing moved in the stone corridor to carry it from elsewhere.

Mei broke their gaze first, laying down her mother’s head and struggling to a rise.

When her hand came to help Fu he accepted the offer, and they meekly travelled down the length of corridor at the pace of a crawl. Fresh blood pumped from Fu’s back as he stepped, but they made it a distance into the darkness before they were forced to stop.

A glow was shed from a spherical object in the ceiling beyond, which was where Mei finally set him down, propping him against the wall. “I offer my apologies, senior,” she said, her head hung in shame.

“Let us… let us talk once I have culti-” Fu drew in a painful thread of air, and the pain within his ribs flared. “Air [Spirit Core],” he managed. “Please.”

Brushing his chest, Mei rifled around in his pouch. Tight, given how close it was wedged against the wall. He barely felt the marble as it was placed in his hand, and she was forced to clasp his other palm atop it to hold it firm.

“Gratitu…” he coughed, feeling his jaw slacken as the Qi was drawn forth.

🀧

Surplus energy stripped away at the remaining [Impurities], as he had now learned, though the direction this infusion of [Air Qi] travelled in was not as linear as the others. Fu’s [Ink] thrummed with the power of another message, however distant it was outside his concentration.

His focus was fully inward, intent on directing the flow of energy through this now-open [Meridian] and gently swaying it through the organs where it settled. A marked change from those he had opened before.

This container was a gateway of sorts, radiating the absorbed Qi into both kidneys to gradually infuse them. The change was slow, and each time Fu relaxed the level of Qi there would reduce, enforcing his need to complete the process in one sitting.

The Qi used to heal his wounds was long spent, and the efficiency of this cultivation session was greatly reduced by the [Earth Qi] that had saturated his [Channels] from his previous fight, only adding to his current difficulties.

Sweat mounted on his brow, and the same, blistering rawness of physique that accompanied each cultivation session had pushed him beyond the brink of exhaustion, causing his concentration to lapse.

Only thoughts of his rage forced him forwards.

I wish to never lean into it again. The violence of this world of cultivators. It is far above, and far more frequent than I had ever imagined.

A cold shudder made his body quiver, biting at the volumes of pouring sweat upon him.

However necessary it might be.

🀧

Fu was drained in both Qi and stamina once his the [Meridian] that governed his kidneys was fully opened, and the organs had been saturated to completion. It was never a rest, to sit and imbue the world’s energy into himself, and always left him broken in ways different to mere physical injury.

So he sat in this dank, underground corridor of which he knew nothing, and peacefully waited as Mei finished reading several passages from his tome. A trove of information rested between the covers, and he was intent on committing all he could to memory.

This ended with a muted bang as it was closed, and Mei came to sit before him. “There are many things I must apologise for, senior.”

Much mended, the fisherman nodded for her to continue. To repetitively deny her the chance to apologise would have her lose face. While he saw no need for such formalities, she was a member of the Azure Shoal Sect and would likely not tolerate his refusals.

“My deceit in leading you to the meadows of the [Paifang]. I should have openly discussed my intention to find my mother. Senior Fu was grievously injured because of my lies and poor judgement. This lowly junior will bestow a thousand apologies should it be wished.”

The change in her address was something that Fu could not fathom, and it made his skin crawl to hear himself addressed as senior by one who was vastly more knowledgeable about cultivation than he.

Even disregarding the low disparity in their cultivation progress.

“Had you asked, I might have helped. But do not treat yourself too harshly, Mei, we both live, and sadly, we have found what you seek.”

Mei shook at that, only clasping her hands to bow lower. “This lowly junior-”

“Your apology can come without formality,” Fu cut in. “Have I given you notion to think I would be slighted by a lesser address? I will ask of you what I ask of my children. Honesty and sincerity. That is all.”

“Yes, senior,” she said.

Fu sighed, still wondering what had caused this sudden change in attitude. “I am sorry about your mother, Mei.”

The young woman fell into a moment’s silence then, still bowed. “My mother was an excellent aide,” she finally said. “A fine mother, yes. Though an aide first. Her life was devoted to the Azure Shoal Sect long before she became pregnant with me, and… She was studious, and pragmatic, well able to put the needs of the disciples first. Selfless in responsibility. As I should be.”

“That does not mean you must be neglectful of your loss, Mei.”

She lifted from her bow, unceremoniously wiping her face with remnants of her tattered sleeve. “No, but I will grieve in my own time. The debt I have massed in your favour continues to soar. Please, let us speak no more on this.”

“If that is what you wish,” replied Fu, gathering Hushi into his douli to make further down the corridor.

In truth, he wished to ask on the circumstances that had led them here. Of how he had awoken beneath the ground, amidst corpses, or how indeed Mei had known to come here.

“This is the [Reliquary]?” he asked.

Mei held her [Spirit Beast] in her palm, and the tangerine lizard emitted a warm glow by which to guide them. It cast back many of the dim shadows, mingling with the Qi-filled sphere in the ceiling that delivered the same effect. “How familiar is senior with such things?”

This respect she shows would drive another to think she insults them. Does this come from the loss of her mother? She tries too hard.

“Please, Mei. It would be easier if you assumed I know nothing, for that is closest to the truth.”

“To put it simply, a [Reliquary] is a trove of gathered treasures that the [Mystic Realm] itself creates. Forgive me, senior, my knowledge on such things is limited to only what I read in tomes. The texts spoke in riddles, and in the usual flowery cadence of many profound masters, yet they shared a commonality in their certainty. Riches lie within.”

Fu nodded, seeing that they were only two illuminated spheres from a set of plain, stone doors at the passageway’s end. “And you say the [Mystic Realm] itself creates these? Like a carpenter would a chair?”

“Commendable insight, senior!” applauded Mei, causing Fu’s brow to twitch. “I cannot speak on the how, only that the contents are varied. Some texts told of [Inheritances] left by fallen cultivators, or [Spiritual Treasures] thought to be lost to the ages. Sacred cultivation manuals, weapons, or scrolls containing [Arts]. The value of each ascending with the various grades of realm. What a [Mortal Grade] realm may hold will be far less valuable than a [Foundation Grade] realm, but no less of a treasure to one such as I.”

The buzz of Qi in his ear nigh caused it to numb, and Fu pondered on the new terms he had heard before speaking again. “Treasure beyond the opportunity to become a cultivator. It is a wonder that the Azure Shoal Sect allows any mortals to partake in the lottery.”

“Their generosity is boundless,” she said, prideful, until she was not. Shadows separate from the surrounding gloom crossed her face, momentarily cleansing her smile. “Was.”

Motivated by a desire to both distract Mei and discover more, Fu continued. “The path behind is filled with enemies, so it is obvious we cannot return that way. If only the Heavens smiled fondly, we might have left here with filled pockets.”

“Senior Fu?”

“Many generations of cultivators have passed through here, no? Will it not be emptied of its [Spiritual Treasures] and the like?” he asked, curious as to her tone.

Mei slowed in her gait, drawing the glowing lizard closer to inspect his face. “In a [Mortal Grade] realm? No. I would expect that it is no more than several days old. Birthed by the creation of this dimension’s [Law of Origin] touching our own.”

We will see if she still calls me Senior now, I suppose.

As if sensing his fathomless lack of knowledge, Mei continued. “This I can speak no more on than any but the Elders in the Azure Shoal Sect. [Law of Origin], as I understand it, are the rules that each realm follows. It is why this [Mystic Realm] has a vastly higher ambient Qi density than our own, or why the [Season] follows its own calendar, among myriad other differences unknown to me. An example perhaps, is the lack of influence that the [Tyranny of Seasons] has, of which you will have no doubt realised.”

There was little Fu could do then but cross the final few steps to the enormous door, silencing himself as he pressed his fingers into the seams.

Words. These are the myriad, not only the differences between realms that she mentions.

Small vibrations lingered in his temples, and he knew it was due to the mental battering such an influx of information had created.

He could take no more.

“Moving deeper into the [Reliquary] serves us better than staying to wait for the brigands to find us. Do you agree?” he said, promptly cutting short any further discussion.

“I heard their voices search above while senior was resting, I do not think they will return for us. This was many hours ago,” Mei set her fingers on the opposite side of the seam, and together they pulled the doors open. Heavy, stone things that made no sound.

The air inside was fresh, which was the opposite of what Fu had expected. The word [Reliquary] was not in his repertoire, but it conjured an image of an ancient tomb or a vault. To look inside, he saw it was anything but.

Steps constructed of a bronze-tinged stone descended into a pit before them, a walled chasm that conspired to meet in a dome above their heads. Intricate statues of bronze were arranged down the steps, robed and hooded cultivators with varying forms of [Spirit Beasts] cast mid-action as though they might strike any who dared to trespass upon the landings where they stood vigil.

“Senior, can you sense the Qi within them?” asked Mei, yet to descend.

Fu could not. “Hushi.”

The octopus unfurled, sensing his intent. His arms writhed in the air, tasting at the ambient Qi as his cultivator took the first step.

A force rose the moment he had crossed the threshold.

I am touched by heaviness, as though I am beneath a light water.

The second step increased this force, minutely, and bearable for now. So he progressed until he reached the first landing, stopping before the statue.

Where an [Ink] that was not his own wisped into words.

He felt the resonance in his arm, a prick of heat as the characters settled. “A message has appeared.”

Mei joined him on the landing, seeming unsurprised. Her hands traced the image, these smoky words of gold that hovered before the statue’s leaping [Spirit Bird]. “Reverence to one’s elders is a worthy weight to carry.”

“Ah,” said Fu, stepping past the statue.

A tremendous, invisible force blasted him back as he did, and Fu clattered up several steps. Cracks of golden Qi flashed in the lifeless eyes of both human statue and beast, wispy and severe, seeming to fix on him for some transgression.

“Senior! Are you hurt?”

Fu clutched at his stomach, holding still the discomfort in his [Dantian]. “My [Inner Qi] has faded. As though it was stolen.” Hushi cringed, keeping his distance from the golden gaze of the statues.

“An [Array] of sorts,” mused Mei. Her own fingers hovered past the edge of the statue, never going as far as Fu had stepped. Showing more wisdom than the fisherman, she chose to stay where she was.

“Can you burn it? Summon those flames of [Sun Qi] to… remove it? Or destroy the statues in some way?”

Mei shook her head. “Apologies, senior. Unleashing that [Art] emptied my [Dantian], and I am still recovering my [Inner Qi]. I believe there must be a way to pass these statues without incurring retaliation.”

“I shall leave that to you.”

Fu settled down, entering the lotus position to recover the small portion of Qi that the attack had taken from him. The ambient [Air Qi] was, he felt, far lower than the surface.

Matters of flow, I should think. Or a lack of… natural treasures? Air Qi plants or minerals?

It was no great breakthrough, and more confirmation than realisation, but led him to feel confident that everything Mei had spoken on until now would one day hold meaning.

When he refocused on the world around him, Mei was three landings down. Which had him blink.

She sat at the base of two opposing statues, flanked with an expectant look in his own direction. “This junior wished to clear the way so senior might not be troubled,” she called. “To pass, one must show reverence.”

She neglects to mention her eagerness in this explanation. Hah. How easily the impatience of youth pushes aside her manners.

Under the weight of the first statue’s golden eyes, Fu clasped his hands, bowing low and holding to witness any change. Only none came, and he was left feeling wary of his next move. “Hushi, ready yourself,” he whispered, stepping past the boundary.

Aside from the minute increases in pressure, Fu saw his way to the next landing unblemished, repeating the process until he was back at Mei’s side.

The pressure was more than a kernel of weight now, and he was impressed that the young woman showed no sign of intolerance towards it.

The benefit of a Mind Cultivator or pure stubbornness?

Two statues had the pair trapped between their crafted inaction, holding marked changes between both.

Left held an older man, evidently wrinkled in reflection of his [Spirit Beast], a long whiskered hound, while right stood a woman of middling years, her bronze spear raised and entangled in the webs of a swarm of spiders.

Hesitation came and went, with Fu making to bow towards the older man. Stopped short by a pull on his hanfu.

“Please, senior, let us wait,” pleased Mei. Following a command, her [Spirit Lizard] skittered to the boundary between statues, to a building glow in the bronze guardians’ eyes. Tentatively, the creature’s tail pushed close, granting an exclamation from its cultivator. “Look there,” she said, and Fu did.

Golden light had risen on the statues, separate of their eyes. [Ink], yet not upon the arm like that of the [Body] path, or upon the forehead, like that of [Mind]. Upon both sets of bronze, two individual points were highlighted. The base of the neck, and the heart.

“Age is not a true sign of power for a cultivator, as you surely know, senior. Their progression against the Heavens brings myriad benefits, among which is the extension of life and youth. Let us be certain on who to show reverence, yes?”

Even the humble fisherman knew this, but inexperience had clouded his thoughts to lead to his previous haste. “Lead, and I shall follow.”

Mei studied the two showings of [Ink], measuring the spread of patterns and judging that the young woman, with her wider and more visible spread of gold, held seniority. An easily overlooked difference, and minor where cultivation was concerned, but present.

Thus, she bowed, and passed easily between the statues.

Little could be of complication in Fu’s repetition, and he did the same.

Distant, and flickering, fragments of a building shone. A curious sight, like that of leafy wisps floating above a fire, and more restored with each step stolen. His heart quickened with guilty excitement, surprised to find how he enjoyed the mystical sight.

Indeed, Fu found he was not dismayed in the least by the three statues where he had now stopped.

Nor the four beyond that. Nor even when he absorbed the full scope of this [Reliquary], and the formidable army of bronze scaled in an order of magnitude beyond, each greater than the last.