Thrice did Hushi stop Fu’s gaze from burrowing a hole in the structure’s side.

This pause had helped none, Udvah’ mirthful disposition aside. The monastic Vajra appeared in opposition to the room’s solemnity, seeming to be half-caught in a dream that played within the ornate eaves.

“It was [Karma],” broke Fu. “That is how you spied Master Yunhan.”

Tanshaui answered with a bow atop his knee before Zhu had deigned to open his mouth. “It’s painful to walk the Path of neutrality with a friend such as you. If I didn’t wish to pain you more than the loss of that arm has already, I’d jab at your expense.”

With a raised brow, Fu turned. “Oh?”

“It’s no wonder you’d never gained entry to the Thousand Shore City lottery. The quality of a haul would suffer if your nets were as convoluted as your [Karma].”

Fu could only shrug, knowing little of the subject.

“That was the storied Yunhan, then,” continued Zhu. “No jawline below the Heavens rivals that. A [Dao] would break upon it. Why scarves clad him… in truth I’m grateful. I’ve no desire to be wall flower.”

Udvah broke from his reverie, allowing Mangalam to join the gathering of [Spirit Beasts]. “Amituofo, was this disciple not married to the [Dao]...”

The three men shared forced smiles as another rumble had the building creak.

Conversation ceased after this, returning all to the lotus position. The [Spring Equinox] still exacted its toll, but this [Venerable Reed Sage] had implemented myriad counter measures to battle the depletion of ambient Qi.

Where daylight entered between window-slits, the [Old One’s Whisker] counted thousands of similarly inscribed [Arrays].

[Qi Condensation], [Qi Transformation] and so on, though their names were more stately and regal than the base types that Fu had committed to memory.

Shuidi once more suggested they cultivate, if only so they might field whatever advantages they could when next they were summoned. A similar impression came from Hushi, less forceful.

Fu shook. “Our [Channels] must settle,” he whispered, leaving the subject at that.

Time passed, and ended with a queer sensation.

The central senior had stood, a forefinger at his brow. Whatever process or [Art] maintained there lasted for several heartbeats before gracing the division.

An impression of [Mental Qi] brushed against each consciousness, one they could do naught but accept. Within a breath, the voice began.

“Eastern waves spill with the ferocity of tigers, and the raptors give chase. Do not dare look west, for serpents rise when the shadow of wings have passed.”

Poetry was no skill of Fu’s, yet the meaning was as clear as limpid water. Thus he rose, joining the concert of his fellows that had near emptied the room with a step. He saw hanfu flare in muted browns and civilian tones, the fabric snapping as if a sudden gust had plucked all that drew breath within the room.

And then it was empty.

The [Mental Qi] continued with less poetry once all had left, direct, for it came in Ban Bingbai’s slowed speech. “Ride in their wake disciples, this opportunity is a trove. But I’d have you make haste for the training hall. An initiate awaits there whose treasure cannot be lost. Disciple Gao, Disciple Zhu, you’ll know of what I speak.”

All within the division heard this.

“Spoken as if he is not to take the field,” noted Zhu.

Fu re-dressed himself, settling a tan douli upon his crown in which Hushi nestled tight. Around his comrades, all did the same. Brief changes that shed the Cloudy Serpent Sect uniform. “Our orders are clear,” he said, and crossed the threshold.

Cultivators rallied beyond.

Myriad robes and [Spirit Beasts] delineated upon the not-so-far precipice of [Venerable Reed Sage’s] great defensive [Array]. Sects in their hundreds, all gathered beneath the rousing words of their respective seniors.

A direction had been chosen.

Outward, far from the warring immortals above and what collateral damage might be inflicted when their full power was brought to bear.

The Cloud Gathering division spared glances behind as they departed.

Coronas of Qi flared around near one thousand figures, all rising beneath the Four Shaded Spear. A full spectrum that appeared like ascending meteors, spreading as a ring around the great weapon’s base.

Yunhan may well be there now. That we encountered him on his journey was fateful indeed. Or a product of [Karma] as Zhu says.

Fu held scant knowledge of the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s heroes.

[Gleeful Viper] and [Thrice Clouded Boa] warred above, chief in their role against [Sixth Under Heaven’s] cataclysmic bamboo.

Yet who else?

Elders. The Matriarchs and Sect Leaders of each Sect gathered. Perhaps a handful from among the Seven Phoenixes and Five Dragons, or from Vajra clans that numbered close to this foe’s own Heavenly standing.

Whoever stood there, however, had a match. For this near-thousand were countered by an equal number from the Empire of Abundant Spring. Rising stars of orchid hue to combat the rallied forces of each monster present.

Awe filled Fu.

“A fragment of me wishes to remain, if only to view what form the Heavens truly take,” he said. “My [Core] cries out in protest.”

Zhu’s eyes were upon this same distant sight. “The world itself will shatter there. We’ve no place in such a clash.”

Always had the Four Corners Prefecture astounded Fu with its scale- always was Thousand Shore City his point of reference- but to look now at the several thousand li gap between their position and that of the immortals conjured no illusion of safety.

“Amituofo. Those in the sun are righteous. This disciple suspects protections are in place. The [Array] here, and more. If nothing else, a swift death is assured.”

None smiled at Udvah’s levity.

The massing cultivators stilled beneath a great and sudden beat. Bass reverberated through all souls with such a rousing note that Fu felt a warmth suffuse his belly.

It sounded from one source, deep within the scores of hanfu and [Spirit Beast] alike, and galloped as if a thousand horses had begun their march. And this rose as banners lifted- marred things of blackened edge and frayed sigil- relics from a tournament that had not passed.

First one hundred, and then more.

Tigers blazed on fields of azure, and boars flapped in the deadened, sun-beaten wind, all to preface this countering blow.

But those of Cloud Gathering allegiance raised no blade nor tong fa to cheer with newfound comrades and brothers-in-arms. Theirs was a quiet slink beneath this mass orchestration that held no part of their duties. Indeed, so shadowed was their role that Fu half-smiled, having never known of this organised resurgence to begin with.

Thus they burrowed through the wooden husks beyond [Venerable Reed Sage’s] vast [Array], feeling relief that they were no longer beneath the [Spring] within [Spring], buried beneath its equinox, and stole their first steps towards what remained of home.

🀦

Time was painted in flares of Qi, for the sun did not wither across hours. It blazed resolute upon the skyline, saturating all grounds in myriad hues with each traded blow.

What [Dao] clashed, what [Affinity] or profundity of martial talent - only the Heavens knew.

Fu’s bones held a differing perspective, creaking with incessant pressure, as his [Core] and very blood did the same. Each stride bore a strain of insignificance that cautioned him to never turn over his shoulder for fear of being unmade.

Monsters prowled those skies.

His preference were those below.

Dozens of Imperial [Spirit Beasts] had the citizenry at a march, aligned in columns that filtered in but one direction.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

The air was thick with dissipating specks.

From the middling shade of a shattered building, Fu grimaced at the scene. It bore eerie reminiscence with a not-so distant tale in how these souls were slaughtered and compiled into categories only the executioners held control of.

A family approached the mouth of these Imperials, ganged between foliage-rich [Spirit Bears], [Spirit Stags] and moss-soaked [Spirit Fish]. They required no treasure to parse the [Season] of their captives, and struck swift.

The father was of [Winter], and his [Spirit Ox’s] specks garbled the cries of his eldest son.

Then the son himself, of fifteen moons, was turned to the blade.

The mother.

The youngest daughter, an age Fu dared not dwell on.

A second family.

An elderly couple, the wings of their [Spirit Cranes] near entwined.

Then a woman of clear Sect belonging, decorated in silver bands and ivory trails. Of these dozen, she passed on.

Zhao Po trembled.

Then thunder rose in an announcing cry, heralding a tactless arrival.

Near forty cultivators lanced their qiang into the far edge of this collective, and the melee roared in earnest. Sky-toned [Spirit Toads] thumped into the Imperial mass, expanding their chests to birth a sudden downpour of rain.

[Nine Torrential Thrusts]. [Nine Rains Offensive Array].

A martial technique that can be used to create an [Array]?

In matching hue to their [Spirit Toads], the cultivators’ robes blared bright amidst the falling rain. They appeared unhindered as their steps led them ever deeper into the Imperial mass, skewering man and beast alike.

The Imperials had grown sluggish under the water’s weight, and indecision plagued those at the rear.

[Dao of Wayward Breezes].

Fu appeared beyond the rain’s reach, and plunged his blade into the neck of a scholarly Imperial before disappearing once more.

His [Ink] warmed.

Now on the gathering’s opposing side, he faded into the shadows of another ruin.

[Air Qi] manifested from a dozen sources where he had just struck, having the Imperials turn blind eyes to the ghost in favour of this more visible threat. Compressed blasts tore through the [Spirit Toads’] center, slanting the rain as several suffered at the hands of these shredding gales.

The rain-Sect reached halfway, sludging through a mire of bloodied civilians that held no interest to either side.

Hushi.

As the final row of Imperials made ready, Fu struck once more. The [Dao of Wayward Breezes] drew octopus and cultivator alike into a fell, sweeping wind, and their arrival was awarded with two fresh warmths upon their [Ink].

Again, they fled.

This second perch was paced far from his hidden allies, masked between crossed, fallen beams.

Here he witnessed the downpour cease, and a plunging of spears into all that yet writhed upon the ashen street. Gut-blows, or tips thrust into hearts. No gruesome blade to spill one’s throat or the dishonourable blows towards Bonds.

No righteous man would cripple their foe.

Reverence had the citizenry fold in supplication, again in columns, but now applause was on their lips. Cries came for their saviours and praise was lavished upon the sky-blue cultivators in passing, though it was a shallow thing.

Few showed the barest hint of face towards the citizens, and only turned to the senior at their fore. A hard-seeming man whose spear already hung towards the next horizon, urging each disciple on.

Late upon the path of [Core Formation], and peerless against these lower cultivation Imperials.

Fu wondered how long that might ring true.

“My martial path is strained,” said Fu.

Zhu unfolded from his [Art], and Tanshuai inverted landed upon the douli. “The punctured throats there speak differently. You’ll fare worse in open combat. You’re no genius to acclimatise to that wound in a day’s time.”

A mote of insult surfaced in Shuidi only to be quelled by her senior.

It is not unkindness, sister. But you know this, perhaps the day weighs more on you than I had thought.

Shuidi clasped her claws in apology, impressing an image of the sun above.

Fu nodded grimly.

The toad-Sect fell, prompting refuge to be sought beneath an alliance of smaller Sects. Disparate, with no sign of orthodoxy or heritage within their ranks.

Three hours passed into a dusk that did not come.

Intermittent [Shadow Qi] granted an illusion of such in flashing parcels. Onyx clouds or flares that merely spotted the horizon before submitting to the cruel, indomitable sunlight as before.

They had come upon a strange, flattened expanse. Signs of a junction were evident, as if the meeting of grand thoroughfares intersected here- though only ruins lay in each cardinal direction where districts might before.

Fu ordered a silent pause as the martial coalition stalled. Care taken so that none upon this road below might glean them in the rafters where they tread.

Three leaders emerged at the fore, representatives to test the oddity of comparatively clean marble paved underfoot. Seniors of green, maroon and egg-white, who bore a [Spirit Lizard], cicada and twin swans respectively.

The [Spirit Cicada] cultivator had her brow well furrowed in the Cloud Gathering division’s direction. Her maroon [Ink] that of [Mind], and crinkled as she scrutinised the semblance of a second floor balcony where they lurked.

“This is not as it should be,” mused Senior Green.

“The water is yet to recede,” agreed the egg-white Senior. “We throw ourselves into a net.”

Distant from the unwitting speakers, dust shifted above Fu.

Loose granules to turn any heart cold.

Nestled in his recess, he saw silent forms descend not two strides ahead. A pregnant quiet came in their wake, seeming to have the speech of the conversing seniors below boom in contrast.

One paw became four as a solitary [Spirit Panther] slunk from rooftop to balcony. The second followed, and third, their coats of autumnal leaves despite the [Season] they bore allegiance to, and these beasts then waited in perfect stealth.

Their [Qi Suppression] masked all.

Fu’s chain was ever-readied, but he was no fool.

The first attack was delivered like wind, loosing a garbled cry from the massed cultivators below. Concerted so that one great edge of the coalition fell before any might react.

Hushi offered a count of thirty, matching what rough guess Fu had spied.

Ghosts in [Spirit Beast] form.

Haste borne of this sudden attack pooled more dust as the [Spirit Panthers] returned before him, their coats some effect of internalised [Dao] - for he could scarce tell where they ended and the ruins began.

As if each was a [Summer] mirage appearing over water.

As these foes did, he waited for the second assault. Silent in spectation of the bloodied cultivators below.

An indication of realm was all he required, such was the vexation of assassins.

None came.

Anxiety tore through the cultivators, and in combination with the [Spring Equinox], this was no small thing. First across breaths, and then minutes. Soon passed a span in which an incense stick might burn.

Fu was certain his breath touched the leaves ahead.

“This daoist feels trembles in the ground beyond here,” spoke the [Spirit Cicada] cultivators. “They have killed the chickens to frighten the monkeys. Take heart, and move.”

Murmurs sounded, and searching looks.

Both Senior Green and Senior Egg-White half-scrambled in their words, and cut out with similar orders under the guise that a march was their own intention.

Cheap attempts to save face that had the [Spirit Panthers] stir with anticipation.

Then, Qi trickled.

From Fu’s rear there came an infinitesimal leak of Qi, delivered as the [Clouded Ghost Arts] slipped.

Each pantherine head cocked towards Zhao Po, obscured in an ash-soaked eave above, but the source nonetheless With preternatural ease one of the [Spirit Beasts] climbed what remained of the building’s vertical face.

Be still.

Three [Spirit Panthers] had taken interest, tasting the air.

Fu held the [Dao] upon his lips.

“By the Heavens!” came a sudden cry below. “What [Demons] does this Empire hold?”

One pace from Zhao Po’s hidden perch, the [Spirit Panther] stalled. Held at bay by a rumble that wracked the world with violence.

A bell sounded as the beast dropped, and its attention withdrew fully from the chase. What came was a rare moment, for gold permeated the already radiant skies.

Nausea rose as the rumble became a quake, casting aside the rubble around Fu. It collapsed each building beyond his vision, and more so as he conjured his [Dao of Wayward Breezes] to appear within the coalition’s safety.

All there stood agape, ill knowing whether to laugh or cry.

[Sixth Under Heaven’s] bamboo had multiplied, sprouting eight new growths around the Prefecture’s rim that rivalled the first in height.

A leap had Zhu entered the crowd, Linhua and Udvah on his tail.

Zhao Po’s arrival was louder, jostling many shoulders as he blundered forward. His face was as pale as ivory.

“That…” started Fu, a hand upon his suddenly twitching temple. “That is an [Array].”

“An [Array]?” remarked a maroon-robed cultivator at his side.

“This day brings only a sea of fire. The Imperial bastards are yet to be dealt with, and now this?” spat another. “[Gleeful Viper] will surely slaughter more than nine generations for such an insult!”

“You have eyes but fail to see, cousin.”

“You dare speak to my junior with such disrespect?” shouted a fourth.

A fifth followed within a two-pace circle about Fu, devolving further as this unrest rippled through the crowd.

Golden leaves glinted above, drifting down from their eight bamboo peaks.

That is no part of the [Array], but a [Dao]. No. Those inscriptions…

The [Old One’s Whisker] drew further pain into Fu’s temples, for whatever this was it held mere resemblance to all that [An Array in One Hand] had known. It was a new thing, inscribed by passing relation and half-similar methods to his own style.

“Harvesting,” whispered Fu. “A harvesting array. But what it reaps I cannot-”

Zhu’s foot knocked air from his chest on connection, smashing Fu back a step. But in the space where he might levy a glare, claws streamed by.

Leaf-coated and malicious.

“Save your mystery,” admonished Zhu, leveraging his full [Might] against one, rushing [Spirit Panther] of many to shatter the bones upon its foreleg.

Zhao Po whimpered.