Predominately a [Constitution] is innate. Dispensed [Bloodlines] and [Boons].

It is a matter of prideful debate that clans or Sects are those that control the specific conditions and talents for which many are famed.

[Brass Tiger Skin] for the same named Sect.

[Three Ringed Poison Body] for the venerable [Sixteenth Under Heaven] and all the subsidiary members of her house.

Yet, pride clouds otherwise clear waters.

Our [Spirit Beasts] hold the lineage. The dominant trait inherent within their blood that is passed down between generations - if in varying percentages, or under the subjection to mutations from myriad factors.

It demystifies to think in this way, and thus, obfuscation is done purposefully.

To delve into the enforced secrecy of knowledge is not my work’s intent, yet it remains an immortal foe.

What few discover is the ease in which [Constitutions] can both be created, and adapted from specific methods of cultivation. Processes, either alchemical or spiritual, that require no more than the tenacity to acquire the necessary components.

Transformative force. [Tribulations]. Harvested materials. Herbs.

A small, if useful facet of the undertaking.

The true difficulty lies in quantity.

- “Constitution, Volumes One through Three,” by Master Ban Bingbai

The emboldened vagrants had set to mundane, water-faring ships to concoct their raids, and had wreathed the surrounding [Mystic Ream] in disjointed pyres where steadings once stood. A wasteful, short-sighted act, for even the abundance of water wherein the plentiful rice grew could not stifle the flames.

Fu recalled the [Mystic Realm’s] [Law of Origin], pensive on what [Constellation Seed] might await in its [Reliquary].

“Could we?” mused Zhu.

“Thousand Shore City held mundane fields,” he answered. “Rice shortages were often caused by this. That the Four Corners Prefecture suffers such a shortage with no need to feed a population of mortals, or few mortals, at least… No. Such [Mystic Realms] are necessary.”

Yet… an Abundancy of [Water Qi] might serve us well, if the [Constellation Seed] truly reflects the [Mystic Realm].

Small, sailless vessels lined many of the realm’s myriad rivers. Liquid serpents that wound about great erections of earthen plateaus, and the stilt-raised buildings upon them. Yet the peculiarity was held in a preternatural ebb and flow, where the waters constantly soared and fell by hundreds of paces in disrhythmic fashion.

The moon’s reflection, in constant flux.

Without [Might] Fu’s oar would have been wrested from his grip. Truly a fisherman’s shame, to be defeated by tides. Rearward, Po and Niwai contested their own waters. Their scavenged vessel, covered with Udvah and Linhua within.

As one, the Cloud Gathering division disembarked, and landed upon the rear-most ship in the vagrants’ flotilla. Long, oar-driven river vessels tethered to the next, though smoke and night obscured their true number.

Fu and Zhu spared a nod, and separated. Tasks known.

The removal of common banditry proved an ample Contract to align their division.

Beneath the cover of looting, voices and smoke, the ghosts advanced. A fell wind that engulfed the pillaging cultivators in their path. Nine such vagrants occupied this first boat, and were removed in a swift, concerted effort.

Yet the flotilla expanded from here. The tether of two boats at northeast and northwest, staffed by similar foes.

[Half Cloud Step] delivered Fu behind a stack of rice-laden sacks. Placed five strides from three vagrants, [Spirit Vultures] at roost aside them. His [Senses] spoke of their cultivation: early [Core Formation] or peak [Foundation].

Shuidi.

With the canopy of smoke above, [Fire Qi] suppressed much of the [Spirit Crab’s] mist. Thus her manifestation was driven low, a great puff of thin mist that encircled the feet of those ahead.

[Dao of Withdrawal].

Akin to his [Spectral Qi] when infused into [Half Cloud Step], Fu entered the intangible. His body, and all upon his person, faded. Hushi, Shuidi, his chain and attire, coalesced into the travelling [Mist Qi] to become one.

On the evening following the [Four Directions Tribulation Array], Zhu had painted him as a whorl upon demonstration.

An occupation wherein the mist danced at his passage.

Fu emerged with a great lash of his chain at the cultivators’ rear, spilling the throats of two as Hushi broke the neck of the third’s [Spirit Vulture]. His blade met her heart but a moment after.

A talent in [Senses] emerged further along the deck. Some ragged vagrant, menacing their direction with a drawn saber and [Spirit Hawk] upon his wrist.

Lips and beak opened in tandem.

Linhua’s soundless [Art] reaped what noise might have come as her own blade plunged into the man’s [Dantian].

And up.

The corpses fell silently as Fu blurred to meet her, advancing to cut short the lives of seven other vagrants.

Named as [Depthless], Fu worried that the vagrants had attempted to embody the [Mystic Realm], for the end of this boat revealed four more. A pulse pushed Qi through his broach, and the returning signal put his vision far afield.

In the distance, Zhu prowled, traceless by vocation. Thus Fu took only the general sense of his location, and set it against the scope of this fleet. Against this, many might pale, but it recalled a sense of [A Strategist’s Folly].

In the absence of immortals… Yes. We might yet find a way.

Time, they had, for Ban Bingbai had offered no mission.

Yet the discovery of bodies, the growing paths through ships, the eventual Qi depletion. He could not yet task his division with a boat each, such would fly in the face of caution.

The flotilla lurched violently as the surrounding waters lifted by around two strides, great founts of water filling each hull. Exclamations rippled across the decks, sounded by the now-steadying vagrants.

Fu looked to the corded rope that moored this boat to the next. An arm thick, yet of mortal making.

His blade sliced all but a few fraying strands.

Let us hope they cannot swim.

🀦

Eighty six boats comprised the flotilla.

Fu’s mathematics were as ever, a poor thing, though such a guess was made for it doubled the ropes severed .

Individual vagrants, outliers upon each perimeter ship had fallen. Cast into the shifting river where their presence would benefit only the [Spirit Fish] beneath.

The fugue of smoke had served the ghosts well over the past hour, and would serve them well again in due course.

At his side, Niwai’s head emerged from the water. A brief nod shared as she tread the rising river. Her form was gentle, and close to his own prowess in swimming. Few waves, nor wasted motion.

As before, they submerged.

The depths of this [Mystic Realm] were a curiosity indeed, and transcended the meagre views beneath Fu’s old home. A thousand, thousand shoals populated the gloom in myriad hues, casting a grainy warmth so far below.

[Spirit Carp] massed, bream, catfish. All ignorant, or dismissive of their presence.

Fu pounced from the ship’s underside, ill-caring about a breath that did not seem needed. Water streamed by, and further kicks delivered him to surface at the bow. His blade severed another rope, as did Niwai’s saber tend to those furthest from him.

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Six in total, positions constricted by the masses about them.

Zhu’s signal agitated his brooch, which Fu returned. The plum-eyed cultivator skulked far ahead, lying in wait.

But this exchange harkened a loud chorus. A rumbling of sorts, and surfacing cries that sounded above the moving waves and previous chatter. It grew in heavy footfall, first, a steady timbre. A stampede next.

Alighting overhead stormed vagrant and [Spirit Beast] alike. Plumes of blackened, acrid smoke gave chase, herding the unwitting fools onto boats further down the flotilla. Their combined weight and the shifting waters enough to snap the fraying tethers.

Fu sprang to the deck amidst a haze of smoke. The scent of burnt rice husks upon this wind. With [Fire Qi] as its composite, his [Dao of Withdrawal] shied from vanishing within it, though the fleeing vagrants freed much of his movement.

[Half Cloud Step] arrived him at the smoke’s source readily enough, and further as he navigated above a line of flaming sacks and the vibrant-orange tongues they held.

“Who-”

Po’s dagger turned the vagrant’s voice into a splutter, flung from afar. He dipped his head exuberantly as Fu drew it from the man’s skull and threw it back. A kick pushed the body into the flames, swallowing the dissipating specks from his [Spirit Beast].

The Cloud Gathering division advanced as one.

Decks of grander design paved the way. Vanguards for the widest, a tall-sailed vessel of crimson sheet where their Contract should be found. From atop these poured streams of cultivators, bucket-laden, or loosing [Arts] of [Water Qi] or [Wind] to subdue the great barrier that Zhu had blazed before them.

Each ghost allowed their passage, masked in the shade of smoke, in crevices, or held at the hull’s outer side.

A rhythm soon formed.

[Spirit Beasts] would rush. Niwai would strike. A flick from Zhu’s tong fa tossed the coming corpses over the edge. Further then, for Po’s [Prowess] in accuracy proved peerless. Braced daggers, loosed beneath Linhua’s soundless [Art].

Yet even Fu slowed his swift decimation of smoke-wrapped experts to see Udvah.

The playful monk, with shorn scalp and monastic demeanour… Fu thought his technique a terror.

At times he would kneel before crates, or lurk at corners, his gnarled, simplistic gun set to trip those that passed. A formless poke or a prod, his expression ponderous as subtle mandalas of [Spatial Qi] rose to await the falling.

Where Fu knew a [Spatial Array] to transport, this removed.

Upon connection clean punctures tore channels through these vagrants, as if burrowed by a multitude of ravening worms. Their flesh, rid.

The Heavens need not wonder why he jokes. His Path is indeed grim.

Zhu’s brooch heralded a stop, dispersing the ghosts into gloom. Upon these greater vessels, none found a shortage of covered constructs or ornate screens behind which to vanish. An outer rim on which to cling.

Contrary to this, Po clung at Fu’s side. Both [Spirit Hares] cowed upon his knees as he braced against the hull.

His look was profoundly queer. Questioning.

That Fu, a senior, would adhere to Zhu’s command. That the Cloud Gathering division had moved expectant of it- no hesitation for Fu’s own order.

I do not blame such a look.

Irregularity would test Po’s character, if nothing else.

Profundity explained the stop. Sets of golden characters that dismissed the madness of smoke with a violent stream of moistened wind. It blew the vessel’s length, brooking no negotiation as splinters tore and fabrics billowed in its passage.

Hushi conjured their [Dao of Wayward Breezes], restraining the power. With their insight at [Middle] the routes of many gusts populated their [Senses]. Ribbons that spoke of the wind’s source.

A look revealed the flotilla, cleansed, as if the air was limpid water.

The ravages lay evident. Charred wood, a blackened blight upon most. And distantly, an abrupt end. Vagrant cultivators striving against the tumultuous waters, entangled as their unsecured vessels clashed at the whims of both current and waves.

Shuidi.

Under the [Clouded Ghost Arts] his [Spirit Crab] blew. Wisps of mist poured forth, a carpet across the deck. White trails that soon spilled across this ship and that beyond.

Again the ghosts marched, catching the voices that sounded.

“Something ill skulks here,” growled one.

“They know not the might of the Depthless River Brethren!” another growl answered.

One among those ahead nears the middle stage of [Core Formation]. The bandit’s leader draws close.

What confidence he held in his division’s abilities lost a mite of momentum.

Fu clad himself in the [Dao of Withdrawal], pouring himself upon the second vessel to wind about its crimson-sailed mast. It snaked skyward at his command, and he emerged to nestle in the sail’s fabric.

A gathering of a dozen cultivators occupied the deck. Pointed qiang, tridents and hooks levied at the stern whence his Cloud Gathering division had approached. Sea-faring [Spirit Beasts] or predatory [Spirit Birds] mirrored this at their sides.

But the leader proved patient.

His chief concern.

A woman of unkempt, onyx hair. An unwieldy axe aside, matching the height of her fearsome [Spirit Shark].

“These waters are ours. Whatever comes cannot best us upon them,” she called, stern against the mist. “Yachi, let us be done with this.”

Green currents wrapped both [Spirit Shark] and cultivator in a squall of [Air Qi], and-

Fu signalled through the brooch.

[Half Cloud Step].

Suffused, he leapt high above his foes, lashing out with a swift arc.

[Dao of Crushing].

A second, golden chain burst from the aether at the conjuration of his [Dao]. His vision of a great pincer, the opposing force with which to grind his foe against.

The Cloud Gathering disciples swept forth, slaughtering three of the cultivators.

Five.

As Fu’s blade struck this unaware [Spirit Shark’s] gills, the second chain mirrored. Though it was the first that continued on, a plunge into flesh that drove against the stalling, golden chain, crumpling all that was contained between the two points.

Nine.

He released a breath as the final cultivator was crippled, but grew curious when Zhu did not finish the task.

Instead, the fallen vagrant was bundled atop a shoulder. “Complications,” he sighed.

“Complications,” returned Fu, pulsing his [Divine Sense].

🀩

Of all disciples, Po took to the dismissal worst. Previously Niwai’s own reaction had simmered over time, and more so, was borne of uglier feelings than this…

“-fear of missing out,” he finished.

“I’d more say that’s the impatience of youth,” suggested Master Ban, knocking further blows to the crestfallen young disciple. “Eagerness has its place, Zhao Po, and is noted.”

Upon hearing Bingbai’s tone the conversation ceased, silent until the screen was closed behind. While Fu was uncertain on the naming convention of [Arts], a singular unit of the [Twelve Golden Needle Acupuncture] method escaped to give chase.

If anything was to be said, it was not, for all attention fell to the crippled captive set before Bingbai’s star-painted screen.

“These disciples await the Master’s command,” offered Fu.

Master Ban frowned. “No, disciples, this day I’ve decided to abandon you to mystery. Consolidate what lessons you’ve learned from the [Mimamsa Sage] trial, if you would. The irregularity of this inspires a course I’d not considered. Our division’s treasures should not so readily appear.”

Tanshuai emerged to stand boldly upon Zhu’s shoulder, impressing a message to exchange. “The [Spring Equinox] tournament invites trouble I’ve no wish for. Bandits in possession of [Constellation Seeds],” he said. “It seems rarity is in decline.”

Fu felt a brief weight of gazes.

“Responding to events in this fashion is to my disliking,” nodded Bingbai. “It speaks of haste, and further, ill preparation. Our Cloud Gathering division is but the first cracks upon a hatching egg. A thing one might say if excuses were of any merit. Away, disciples, and I’ll tend to this boy’s treasure. You have your tasks.”

Following propriety, Zhu still deposited the bandit’s crippled form from his own shoulder. Emerging only as the screen closed behind.

“Spare me the conspiracy for one night,” he waved dismissively, much to Tanshuai’s fluttering protest. “The consolidation of three paths takes priority, no?”

“My tongue is held,” smiled Fu.

Zhu took his measure. “You’re going to visit the alchemists, aren’t you?” The [Mimsamsa Sage] was withdrawn, and offered to Fu. “Similar to yours, I’d hope they do not confuse them. This pill they’re to create- I assume your own will taste of fish.”

“More favourable than the spirit wine that spoils in there,” he replied.

A dismissive wave parted them, and Fu made for the corridors.

He recalled his first experience here. Forms within the vacant air, traversing distance with [Arts] or by strength of cultivation alone. [Might] that evoked terrible swiftness.

Queer, that he was now of this number.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

Drafts navigated the labyrinthian twists, and he became each one. Ribbons, as he perceived them, that oscillated in strength around corners or in countering streams. Yet he found his way in time.

Pungent fumes cradled the serpent iconography, drawn into the ceiling through intricate vents. Fu dampened his [Senses] at the threshold, lest he be overwhelmed with the Alchemist Hall’s myriad Qi flows, inscriptions and [Arrays].

He bade the [Old One’s Whisker] to quiet.

It was humbling to walk through.

Pristine hanfu clad the cultivators here, an immaculate white for the benefit of catching residual components or foreign materials that might interfere with their processes. But the volume drew more attention, for they numbered hundreds.

Fu settled by a counter, barring the tapestry of [Refinement Arrays] that stretched beyond. “Senior sister,” he bowed. “This disciple greets you.”

“A moment, brother,” sounded the return. Delivered impatiently for the disciple there was well occupied with the air about her. Gestures, akin to the [Twenty Eight Standard Formations] wove her hand about, though to what end he could not say.

“Apologies, I would not interrupt your refinement.”

The woman blinked herself into clarity. “Disciple Gao Fu!” she gasped. “This humble alchemist gives her apologies, and begs forgiveness for having you wait.”

Fu dipped his head. “Please, senior, you treat me too kindly. My business holds no great importance.” Both lengths of [Mimamsa Sage] appeared in hand. “I come, in part, to request for these to be refined.”

“[Mimamsa Sage]. Disciple Gao is indeed fortunate! To possess two, more so! Might this disciple inspect it further?” Light danced behind the woman’s eyes as Fu assented. “The Qi alignment does not match. Another disciple has entrusted this to you?”

“Brother Zhu has, yes,” he nodded.

The alchemist appeared awestruck. “Then truly your reputation precedes you. Noble and diligent, to be trusted with such treasure.”

Undeserved flattery. Yet I would not bite the hand that feeds.

“Gratitude. But again, such kindness is unnecessary. If it is no trouble, I would hand these to you.”

[Spatial Qi] swallowed the two herbs, drawing a mite of alarm from Fu.

“This disciple will deliver them personally to the Head Alchemist,” she said quickly. “One of the Elder’s favour will be promoted to the highest priority. That both favoured field requests, my humble opinion cannot be trusted, but you should wait no longer than two days.”

“That is appreciated, sister,” he smiled.

“In part, was mentioned. Do you have further business that this disciple might aid you with?”

Let us see if my boon extends this far.

“One more, of a personal nature. My contracts have put me against unfamiliar poisons, and I would weigh my memory against a reference. If possible, sister.”

His continued readings since the trial, as lifted from the Clouded Archives using his [Seasonal] favour, had arrived at this point. He need not act on it, but it presented another course he might walk.

Something well aligned to his Path.

“A sample, then? Our Clouded Archives hold notes on all poisons known.”

Fu affected his warmest smile, making a show of consternation. “Were parchment able to translate all,” he sighed. “It is only for inspection, sister. The poisons will remain here, if you might produce them.”

It was no irregular request.

“This aligns with the Alchemist Hall’s code,” she agreed. “What might this disciple aid you with?”

From memory, he repeated, “[Ghostly Sorrow Water], [Four Elements Transformation Venom] and the [Innate Soul Impacting Bile].”

The woman bowed low, and moved to converse with a languid [Spirit Serpent] draped upon the hall’s partition. On Fu’s part, he emptied his [Hundred Poisons Synthesis]. Ridding it of any particular effect.

A return of [Spatial Qi] had three clay flasks appear on the countertop.

“If the sister might aid me further?” Fu asked, and gestured to a slender pin within her hair. “It is improper, but recent affairs within the Cloud Gathering division…”

Merely mentioning a hint of Ban Bingbai’s allegiance dropped any show of worry from the woman’s face, and she presented the pin.

“A drop each, I can say nothing more,” Fu said, proffering his fingertip.

Three drops came, plucked as the alchemist expertly dipped her pin within each poison. These touched upon Fu’s skin, and his [Hundred Immunities Fruit] reaped the effects of each, coalescing into something truly formidable within him.

“Gratitude, sister,” he said after a breath. “I have the answers I seek.” And Fu bowed, walking away thereafter.