Fatherly Asura

“No, no. If that vestige of creation truly existed in our current times… why, this [Cherry River Spear] would never cease in cleansing what flames would follow.”

Those in lecture murmured furiously.

“Who might claim to be worthy of it? A power to be possessed only by the [Twelve Divine Beasts]. That is for no soul to hold but they and the Heavens themselves,” he said, warmly. “A sad thing, I must admit, to dim the wonder of these lands… No. [Divine Qi] has long transcended our world. None that seek it will find it.”

“Speculations: [Divine Qi]” dictations of [Cherry River Spear]

Against the Beast Lord’s [Inner Realm], the [Trial] for this realm’s [Constellation Seed] proved a trite affair.

A matter of [Pull] and no more.

The [Paifang] glistened as Fu and Ryudeshui emerged, standing tall within a stretch of snow-dappled lands.

“[Winter],” the shoal shared, sullen. “Strive as we might, this [Season] is trying for that we embody.”

Fu smiled, though his reasons were two-fold. “Change and cycles. I could speak much on it, venerable shoal, though I would not wish to challenge your Path. Often I find that opinions and insights are held as absolute truth, and would not dare to offend you.”

“The [Boundless Dao] are not one thing, stranger, but all things. What truth concerns fishes does not concern that of birds.”

The second reason for his smile rose then, manifesting in teal-hued cloud. “Rain upon the wing is not the rain upon the scale. This wizened master agrees, strange cousin.”

Disciples and Alchemists of the Four Tiger Pill Society jerked at the scene of these two great fish, conversing as though this precocious setting were no more than a teahouse. Some strides beyond their tents, tables and [Array] formations, Bojin likewise observed.

Ryudeshui and the Old One matched each other’s height, and silent things were exchanged across the intervening distance.

“Indeed,” came the affirmations.

“Oh?”

“Thus, our decision.”

“Then it is not Heaven’s will alone.”

Myriad eyes within the shoal turned to Fu, and subsequently the now-hidden, returned forms of Hushi and Shuidi upon his person. “Not solely. Wizened sage, you will know well of what we speak.”

The Old One bobbed pensively. “In abundance,” he finished, returning promptly to his cavity within Fu’s [Spirit]. His next words came inwardly. “Under old hospitality, this wizened master has gained Lord Ryudeshui’s admittance to Cloud Dragon Hall. We are to welcome them as guest, youngling.”

Fu’s reply was likeward inward, and did not withhold surprise. “Truly, old master? The shoal was vocal in their opposition to our methods. Your tongue is laced with much silver indeed.”

Once the conversation seemed done, Bojin approached with fitting propriety - a simple clasp for Fu, and a half bow to the radiant white-gold shoal afloat by his side. “Gao Fu, your presence might have one assume success. That you are accompanied by an ally, more so. Well met, venerable shoal. I am [Fourteenth] Bojin, Administrator of the Four Tiger Pill Society, and we offer any friend of Gao Fu’s our full hospitality.”

“We are Ryudeshui, progeny of the [Perennial Fortunes Shoal]. Many hundred moons have passed since last we have encountered such grace. An honor, Bojin, and thus we extend our gratitude in sadness. We will remain with Gao Fu, for a time.”

Bojin’s neutrality did not flicker.

“Would you have the peerless Gao Shuidi stand longer?” the [Spirit Crab] scoffed.

“No, Mistress Shuidi,” Bojin answered. “Ever am I grateful for your prudence in regard to time. Indeed. This turbulent period cares not for indulgence. All that must be said can be done simply. You are first to complete your duty.”

The [Soul Qi]-flush [Paifang] was encircled by golden inscriptions and myriad warding talismans. It supported a steady flow of alchemists and martial escorts through the arch, contrary to the silent gate through which the Plum Phoenix had tread.

Fu unearthed his own realm’s [Constellation Seed], depositing a stream of grey, cyclic dust into Bojin’s palm.

Aides arrived in moments to seal it.

“Six days have passed by my count, Bojin. Is this correct?” asked Fu. “A dissatisfactory span, for I am certain more troubles have arisen in our absence. We will return to Cloud Dragon Hall before returning to duty. I trust this much is acceptable?”

The question drew Bojin’s well-focused gaze from the miniature dust-storm within his palm. “Your diligence shames me, Gao Fu. I will eagerly await your return.”

🀩

A leisurely walk was not conducive to all that he had set in motion, but this is how Fu Gao arrived at Cloud Dragon Hall.

The Jianghu was indeed a wealth of shifting eyes and whispering tongues, after all.

It was thankful none yet held the talent to glean Shuidi as she parted their company to paint the final strokes upon their hasty calligraphy some hours past. More so that none noted Ryudeshui before the [Dao of Four Horizons] whisked him away.

Calm prevailed, and was subtly enforced. As it would be for a clutch of hours.

All that was required now was short-lived pageantry.

“Gao Fu!” chirped a chorus upon the orphanage’s main approach, heralding the arrival of some fresh-faced youths. “You have returned!”

“Is this him?” said another.

“The Sect Master, isn’t he a little old?”

Fu stooped as a gaggle of the smallest skipped down his snow-thick road, [Spirit Hares] in perfect gait. “I greet you, children. And I see more faces than I am used to. A good place, I hope?”

Of the dozen, three new girls nodded. “It is warm and there is food.”

“Foggy,” said the second.

“Big sister! You can’t insult a cultivator’s home,” fretted the third, pressing her fellow’s head towards a kowtow. “Please master cultivator! She didn’t mean-”

Cultivation was not required to hear the terror with her words, nor the widening of this last girl’s eyes.

The whites of each nigh melded with the softly falling snow.

With a flourish of his hand the [Shrine of Final Skies] manifested, and Fu grinned how swiftly the children’s faces turned to wonder. “No, no. It is foggy. I am fond of clouds you see, they make the softest beds,” he chuckled, then whispered to the closest. “If a little wet.”

A snort bubbled from her reddened nose. “Wet?”

“All that rain, young mistress,” he said, gently dabbing her nose with his sleeve. “None of you are dressed for [Winter]. The blame is mine. Allow me to solve that.”

Woollen cloaks fell from his [Shrine of Final Skies], crafted from the finest [Spring] Imperial threads. He did not allow them to touch the snow, having [Air Qi] suspend them before the damp might sully them.

“Please,” he offered.

These children moved humbly, as though the cloaks might vanish if they did not grip them with white-knuckled grips.

Fu rose, tousling the girl’s hair. “Give my apologies to Aunty Quan, young mistress. Please remind her that my resources are ever at her disposal.”

What greeting he received as the grand doors to Cloud Dragon Hall yawned open was not in this vein, but one of rhythmic motion beneath the call of instruction. Amidst the hundreds of his disciples walked Kang Jae, hands clasped as he inspected these cultivators for inaccuracies in their form.

The teal, grey and gold hanfu of Cloud Dragon Hall fit him well.

Eyes met across the grounds, though Fu bid him continue.

“Fourth form, set sixty one, ” announced Kang Jae. “The Dragon Unceasing into Last Rain of [Autumn’s] Sky.”

The [True Wind God Arts] whisked the bodies of both cultivator and [Spirit] beast from a series of aerial kicks into a dramatic shift of stances that had them arrive balanced upon their palms, one foot poised above.

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“Diligence. Say what must be said of that rowdy youth, yes, but Kang Jae holds a talent for this. A good application of assets, Gao Fu.”

The Old One impressed a begrudging respect at this upstart, as Jae was known to him - one that had dared on multiple occasions to argue the merits and history of techniques - as they walked further into the rows.

Many eyes widened.

“The Sect Leader has returned!” broke an eventual voice.

These many hundred disciples fell gently from technique and came to offer low bows of respect for their senior, and the four lead disciples stepped forth to better hear what words Fu held for them.

Chan Gui, Jihu Wanjie and the Baotai twins commanded great silence as they moved.

Cloud Dragon Hall is still within its infancy, though this day will remedy that. Yet, it is good that my senior disciples have earned the respect of their juniors. It bodes well.

In simplicity, Fu had ever viewed propriety among the sun-facing Sects as a thing of expectations. For all the Sect Leaders, Matriarchs and Imperial Heads he had cut down across his tenure, it was plain that those beneath them had viewed them with immortal reverence.

How a single word might be misconstrued as prodigious insight.

One’s walk could be painted in platitudes. How one stroked with brush and ink. The choice of herbs within one’s tea. If they rose east from their cot that morning instead of west.

Fu had merely returned, but this sentiment had inscribed meaning upon it.

Our gift is scheduled to arrive in hours, but these disciples should perhaps be rewarded for their efforts in training.

“It is a cloud’s nature to wander,” he announced. “Greater however, is if they choose to bow by the wind’s decree. There are foundations I would set before my disciples are blown from aft to fro, and [Prowess] in our [Heritage] technique is among the first wisps of what I desire for you all. What I see now are those worthy of Cloud Dragon Hall, and so, I would have the Jade Songbird Province know it.”

Shuidi scoffed through mental impression. “Brother, you are more tailor this day than ghost.”

The comment tugged a smile as Fu opened his [Shrine of Final Skies], withdrawing the first of many uniform hanfu. “Jihu Wanjie,” he said first.

His stoic, former [Spring] Imperial disciple approached. “These first wisps are yet unworthy of it,” she said, supported by her [Spirit Lion’s] submissive purr. “We would know more. We would be more, to lend it merit.”

“And in saying so, first wisp, prove your words false.” Fu presented her robes, that of teal, gold and grey.

Wanjie frowned upon accepting it, and passed the Baotai twins as their Sect leader called them forth.

This sequence went on.

Kang Jae had been named as Martial Head, and so stood one step lower than Fu, and below that came his senior disciples. He served as the intermediary for each junior as they were summoned by name, exchanging small words and hanfu so the Sect leader need not descend.

Unnecessary matters of face, though one that lent an auspicious feel to the moment.

“My disciples, I bid you wear these with pride. Come tomorrow, duty will-”

A fell sensation sparked far across the Province, forcing a pause in his words. The enormity of it had his two hundred disciples turn sharply, aghast at whatever omen had loosed so terrible a signature.

Fu knew it as a [Spirit Beast’s] unsuppressed [Core].

It came north.

The second sensation erupted far to the south-west, and thunder cracked above the [Paifang] where it originated.

His disciples’ heads swung like pendulums as the myriad Bonds amongst them affected their own cry of warning.

“Sect Leader,” broached the Baotai twins, bowing low before him. “A dread arrives within these lands-” said Xiongdi.

“-we are not talented enough to parse its origin, but we will tend to matters here,” continued Jiemie, finishing her brother’s words without pause.

A third came, greater than all others.

Long and pensive was the stroke of Fu’s whisker. “This latest presence emanates from Jade Songbird City,” he finally noted. “You prove dutiful, my twin disciples, but Cloud Dragon Hall cannot shy from these greater responsibilities. Now is the moment for righteous acts. City Lord Mingqin may not require our aid, and yet, there myriad souls under these shared Heavens that do.”

Kang Jae knew nothing of Fu’s actions. “Gao Fu,” he addressed, forsaking face before these disciples. “These threats broach the [True Lord Realm]. No others might project a presence so vast. What would you have us do?”

“All that Cloud Dragon Hall has instilled in you, my disciples. Jae, you may go where is needed. See to it that the Heaven’s cruelty reaches no child nor defenceless soul. We must avoid tragedy where we can. You have my leave to open the armory.”

Many among the disciples shook.

As did the [Primordial Law] within his [Spirit].

“Make ready, disciples,” Fu called, granting leave with a far flung hand. “Cloud Dragon Hall will march against this injustice with its full might.”

The [Dao of Four Horizons] delivered him to his quarters, and a single word summoned all he would meet there.

Udvah’s grin was absent as lacking assassins poured from the shadows. “Amituofo. The orders are given, senior.”

“Good,” nodded Fu, his stare cold upon the gathered ghosts. “Recall, disciples, that this initiation will tolerate no failure. I have set this scene that you might shed the shackles of mediocrity, and become what is expected of you. The Breathless Archive herself, Wen Pinxui, has orchestrated your tasks. Do not dare disappoint her.”

Absence followed, if pitifully slow.

“Ho,” chuckled Udvah, near croaking in a mirror of Mangalam. “A [Tribulation] within a [Tribulation]. Amituofo. Gao Fu works too hard, no?”

“None more than you, brother,” smiled Fu, clapping the smiling Vajra upon his shoulder.

His hand vanished into an impossible, familiar sensation - swallowed by the shimmering light of a [Paifang].

“Master Ban will enjoy this peerless new [Constitution],” he continued. “But it is an honor that you allowed us to experience it first.”

Mangalam croaked mirthfully, and Hushi translated his impression clearly. “Amutuofo. A favourite, this humble toad thinks. Croak. Full of potential… rowdiness, no?”

🀩

Kang Jae’s efforts had divided the disparate talents of Cloud Dragon Hall into groups of equivalent swiftness, for his view was that speed would be the contributing factor in providing the Province aid.

The intensity of pressure waxed as the first group reached the brow of Mingqin’s capital, spilling through the streets and byways on the approach to her main residence.

Fear had taken root there.

Among the cultivators in the City Lord’s employ it was but a clutch from a rice sack that remained to calm the panic-struck citizenry.

“Remain within your homes!” came a cry in infinite variation. “Fear not. Trust in City Lord Mingqin.”

Hastily bound bundles were upon the shoulders of many, as were too-laden packs thrust upon the mundane [Spirit Beasts] of this fledgling population. Thousands barged down the thin walkways and roads, overturning stalls, people and detritus alike as they failed to heed their city guards’ warnings.

A palpable [Intent] spilled from their collective fear.

Something foul and chilling, though none there were aware of their accidental wrongdoings.

Fu observed from a shroud, nodding as Hushi and Shuidi offered their thoughts on the turbulent scenes ahead.

“A shoal disturbed by sights of sharks. Soon, they will thrash,” offered the [Spirit Octopus].

Among the muted brown of civilian hanfu and tame, unaligned colour of the simple masses, more flared. Silvers, golds, brilliant reds and myriad hues of fabric that need not be mentioned save for their abundance and difference, despite how they flocked in the same direction as all others.

Cowardly factions or - perhaps - wise factions, littered the crowds with their own method of flight, casting pockets among the crowd that congested the scene further, daring those they viewed as beneath them to interrupt their passage.

“Bah, they’re all the same,” cackled a rowdier sort some steps distant, laughing as she and her peers moved up, against the stream. “Squabble for crumbs of power, and yet when the first grey cloud shows they scramble for shelter.”

A vermillion [Spirit Boar] snorted its derision by her side, blocking the movement of one such faction.

Some dozen cultivators of the Warriors Association managed to barge each individual shoulder of what Fu saw as the Jinjao [Summer] Sect’s fleeing disciples.

“Apologies!” laughed a brutish Warrior, having pushed so hard one of their more scribely disciples toppled to the ground. “I’d not taken you for a mortal, friend.”

To focus one’s [Senses] revealed a similar sound at play throughout the city. A chorus of ire-raising jabs from these rough, vagrant cultivators. Mingqin’s guards saw much of it, and hesitation played on their faces.

Concern for order and the citizenry shone through most expressions, but not all.

From the center of the fleeing Jinjao [Summer] Sect, their senior emerged. A handsome, if nasal-voiced woman of martial bearing, a [Spirit Centipede] affixed around her waist. “There will be no more warning than this, warrior. Stand aside. So paltry a city cannot defend against what I have gleaned upon the southern horizon.”

The first Warrior of [Spirit Boar] partnership made a grand show of cleaning her left ear. “Eh? Does dust speak? My ears seem clotted. Say what you said again, citizen.”

Fu blurred as the Jinjao [Summer] Sect’s senior palm cracked forth, and his intervention had it bunch harshly about his hanfu.

“Foolish-”

Silence moved as a wave across the fleeing masses.

“Cloud Dragon Hall,” gasped several citizens.

“Jinjao [Summer] Sect,” Fu smiled. “I recall your petition to place roots in Jade Songbird City. How City Lord Mingqin’s generosity allowed you to place roots in her abundant realm. The Phoenix Melody Coalition extends its gratitude that you would rush to offer you aid like this.”

The senior dropped like liquid from a broken cup. “Venerable Gao Fu.”

“Friends of the Warriors Association," Fu greeted, disregarding the woman. “As ever you rush towards trouble. A thousand gratitudes.”

“Gao Fu,” man both nodded and noted, offering simple dips of the brow in respect. “Head Sikou orders were to make ourselves useful, he’s also filled with regret that he’s not stopped by to visit your Cloud Dragon Hall. A busy man, is he not?”

“Friend Sikou is busy indeed. As I wager we all will be in the coming hours. Please,” said Fu, gesturing towards Mingqin’s palace. “My name is free, and all your acts will be my own. I trust that you will use it to calm these troubles, no?”

Dirty, reliable grins spread through the Warriors Association cultivators. “We will.”

Fu turned to the still kowtowing senior. “Jinjao [Summer] Sect. As I am sure you know, the walls are that way. Jade Songbird City is not so large yet as to need directions, but I will accompany you if you wish?”

As swift as thunder, the senior’s head snapped upward. “Venerable Gao Fu…” she said, battling to swallow her pride. “We… the Jinjao [Summer] Sect are not-”

“Yes, many have been turned around in this slight tumult. Up is down when fresh threats arrive, no?” Fu chuckled. “Indeed, I applaud your eagerness in rushing to meet it. To reward it, I would give you a task.”

“A task?” she asked.

A ring of middle-grade spirit stones appeared upon Fu’s palm. “Merely a request to do what comes naturally to so righteous a Hall as yours. To any with a martial heart beating within their chest,” he said, proffering the stones. “Protect your newfound home, cultivator. The street about it. Those that dwell within it. It is the privilege of the strong to stake all they have for the weak, and I would see this embodied in you.”

Her face flitted between emotion, and the senior slowly stood. Emboldened. “From the mouth of Cloud Dragon Hall, or the mouth of City Lord Mingqin?”

“From the mouth of one who knows of rising tides,” he said.

The senior considered this, gently rebuking the offered wealth. “A martial heart. This reminder is motivation enough. Gratitude… Gao Fu.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, and vanished into the wind.

A few strides distant, unbeknownst to them.

Done so he might hear the cry of Jinjao [Summer] Hall as their senior thrust her jian skyward. “Disciples! No. Cultivators of Jade Songbird City! Jinjao [Summer] Hall pledges to support the growing roots of this-”

[Dao of Four Horizons].

The wind was entered swiftly, as Fu cared only for the sentiment of her words.

He unravelled some dozen streets over, interrupting a scene not of Warriors Association cultivators and the Jinjao, but the Pagoda of Three Virtues and the [One Hundred and Third]. His breath shoved a parting between the descent of a halberd and a [Spirit Tiger’s] claws.

“Cultivators,” he smiled, beginning anew.

Hastily, perhaps, for this calamity of his own design was soon to fall.

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