Fatherly Asura

[Dances Upon an Ivory Sea] had given no warning.

The [Cherry River Sage] had revealed naught.

Wen Pinxui had reports that read more as fable than true account.

And… was it not exhilarating?

They unfolded swiftly atop the outer groves of the Golden Bodhi Sanctuary, sparing but a single glance at the titanic growth of Fen’s [Spirit Tree]. So powerful- so dominating was its presence that a wide sea of the surrounding canopy had adopted its golden luster.

Shuidi felt even this was poor for so auspicious a meeting. This come-what-may with a [Primordial Lord]. Before Fu might caution her otherwise there came a great gale of her own summoning, carrying upon it motes of glowing [Profundity].

It whisked about each tower of bamboo, bending all things as they progressed.

All save two.

Two forms.

Two mountains.

As foretold, two possibilities.

Hushi impressed that his eyes must deceive him, for firstmost came the sight of a Pischacha’s form- that of grandiose muscle, wild, cascading hair and the mannerisms of one ill-bred for peace. Yet for all this, [Looming Amaranth Tyrant] held a grace they could not fathom.

A reverent quiet.

Had he a mortal’s physique, Fu might feel the hairs upon his arms bristle. Indeed he might feel a chill upon his nape, dryness of tongue or the tingle of sweat upon his spine.

Some pervasive force fell upon them as though the Heavens themselves enforced a warning - a simplicity of message.

Eyes are upon you.

A beast stalks.

They are ever at the corner of your eye.

Or, more so.

Prey.

“Prey,” confirmed Shuidi. “How enjoyable a domain. A well subtle thing, no?”

Fu stroked his whisker. “Old master. His partner. A [Spirit Precursor Beast] of some description. Have you encountered its like?”

The Old One remained well hidden, using more than ever Fu’s own eyes to gaze at the monstrosity of lizard ahead. A bipedal thing of draconic look, amaranth-coloured feather and scale, and defined musculature from prodigious tail to the great hooked horns upon its brow.

Little need be said on the fangs.

What approach would reason dictate? Doubtless they are aware of us.

Mist plumed from his pipe, deep, pensive and hesitant. “We extend our greetings, friend,” Fu soon called.

[Looming Amaranth Tyrant] turned with the purpose of a sunrise, holding some emotion akin to confusion upon his face. When he rose it was as though a blind man sought the wind or with the style of an old dog that could no longer parse the waft of his favoured scent.

One of [True King Realm] could not be deaf, surely, and so Fu called out once more with volume to his words.

The [Clouded Sovereign Existences Art] was intentionally diminished, and neither did the [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation] mask them.

Even still…

“The wind speaks,” offered [Looming Amaranth Tyrant], addressing rather, the world itself. “Who causes such a shift?”

Whatever name was attributed to the [Spirit Precursor Beast], none knew, but it turned its own head more with the affectation of a rooster than any hegemon of predators. Bassy, throat-deep rumbles emerged in its search, and it offered no answer.

“We offer our greetings, friend,” called Fu for this third time, ranging close enough that it might be improper between strangers.

A blink returned, and the Tyrant’s gaze remained eastward and three heads too high.

Shuidi impressed a thought of teasing or traps.

Hushi lifted the douli, having [Profundity] flow. “[No less than this is required.]”

The Tyrant snapped about like the arrival of lightning. “Impatient souls. Dutiful souls. Kind souls. Eager souls,” he offered, pressing close his face whence the words had come. “Let neither of us suffer the vexation of this conversation.”

For one that knew the nature of wind-

For one that swallowed thunder-

Fu could scarcely react as the realm about them spun into white. It was no flare nor burst of sunlight, yet before a thought might sprout in his mind there unfolded a crushing pressure and some sensation not unlike the crossing of a [Paifang].

“The Fatherly [Asura].”

Words of reply did not come swiftly.

No.

For shamefully long moments the three could but struggle. The Tyrant had spirited them away to a place that held purity enough to rival the Cherry River.

Enough to rival the [Primordial Realm] itself.

Shuidi demanded much from the [Shrine of Final Skies], cycling of all their [Inner Qi] towards its absorbing elements over further heartbeats so that they might so much as stand straight and breath.

“Let it not be so. Have we plucked a hatchling or a dragon? The thrill upon our ears was not hollow.”

A polite smile spread across Fu’s features. “Apologies,” he said, re-inserting his pipe. “We hold a different face for our disciples. Here, I see we hold no need for subtleties.”

[Ink] beckoned.

[Hollow Ivory Splinter]

Your [Core] is yet ravening.

[Cloud Dragon Sutra] nourished.

[Might] +214

[Pull] +214

[Senses] +214

Fu, Hushi and Shuidi fell quiet as these changes reached equilibrium- as the unaccepted power of his [Cloud Dragon Sutra] granted all they had previously reaped. And with it, they stood taller, and [Pulled].

[Looming Amaranth Tyrant’s] form became clear amongst the startling white as they drew more of this land’s power within them, and now they did not stagger as [Primordial Qi] itself entered their [Core].

The [Clouded Sovereign Existences Art] grew. Shifted. Tempered itself with fresh winds of peerless, [Primordial Air], [Water], [Soul] and composite Qi, while the remainder stormed about their [Channels] to be saved for later refinement.

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“We greet you, [Looming Amaranth Tyrant], as Gao Fu, Hushi and Shuidi. As do we offer apology that our meeting is so waylaid.”

“Apology?” tasted the Tyrant.

“Yes. [Dances Upon an Ivory Sea] spoke of your conversation only recently, and matters have held us busy of late.”

“The girl spoke of our conversation. She is no ally to you, then. Yet you come. To enact what? My disappointment is not a thing you can weather, hidden ones,” he warned, though his expression remained…

Blind.

“The best time to plant a tree is twenty moons past,” offered Fu. “I need not say the second best, no?”

[Looming Amaranth Tyrant’s] eyes swung to his [Spirit Precursor], only now visible as this queer land’s terrain grew more visible with each passing [Pull]. What passed between them was unknowable.

“Lions think themselves dragons, to sit as they do. To lounge. Content with image and prideful stagnation. Had I a care for such mortal sentiments as time and [Seasons], you might be congratulated for this service. Acting as tigers and worthy beasts- seeking,” he said. “You seem souls that enjoy words, so we will exchange them before all else.”

Hushi dipped the douli’s brim, but no more face was given.

“Then you have us at a disadvantage,” offered Fu.

The grand lizard rumbled in warning, nostrils a-flare.

“In names? What once we were called is a thing lost to ages, tongues and memory. Know us as [Looming Amaranth Tyrant].”

Of all ancient souls, he alone does not seem to make such claims from arrogance or false whimsy.

Shuidi hummed. “That hateful ice-touched girl did not share your purpose in finding us. This Gao Shuidi would know it.”

“Directness. Twice you have shown this,” the Tyrant nodded. “We sought the bearer of [Dances Upon an Ivory Sea’s] sentiment. The vital spirit behind a simple phrase.”

“No less than this-”

“Yes,” he grunted. “The bearer of such sentiment must hold what we need. A wind of change, unlittered by the filth of this world. For that is what we wade through. This interminable filth. This mire. This devilry of impure things.”

A spark surfaced within.

“The Hollow Misery. Hmm. An ancient thing indeed. They have prowled beneath the Heavens too long. Blind, now. Cursed.”

“The Hollow Misery.”

[Looming Amaranth Tyrant] peeled back his lip in concert with his partner with such ferocity of snarl that even the Heavens might not tell beast from man. “So it is said. This Hollow Misery,” he said, placing a hand on the lizard’s lowered neck. “For millenia we held no name for it. In the wilds of home- our tomb, we thought it Heaven’s curse. A blight, cousin to this brand upon our skin.” His [Ink] glowed dully at the mention. “We had known naught else. Naught but blindness, cursed only with the sight of that which might sustain us.”

Small nods answered, then silence, for it seemed the man was done.

A history of unparalleled fable must follow in his wake. Had we time… Indeed, this is what Long warned of. We need not delve further, much as it might bring us insight.

“To counter the Hollow Misery is not a thing we have attempted. As we stand now, we do not need it,” said Fu.

“[Primordial Lord of the Hunt],” mused Shuidi. “Reasons must stand as to why you hold no [Splinter]. [Divine Qi] is the swiftness route from this malady.”

The twin Tyrants bore their fangs once more. “We taste your scent, Lords of [Tribulation], but your tongue betrays you. Swiftest route. This is no embodiment of your Path! Would you offer a boon next? We would feast no more than the remains of fallen divinity than the festering carcass of deer once chanced upon. Offer more, false-Lords, lest our disappointment rise.”

Ire rose in the [Spirit Crab]. “False Lords. Bah,” her venom hummed. “There are myriad Paths and myriad fools that walk upon them! It might be said a Lord of the Hunt that fails across millenia to find his quarry is counted in that number.”

Sister.

“Youngling.”

Hushi repeated the mental sentiment.

“Further directness,” snarled the ancient, towering, peerless cultivator.

“Equanimity. A dragon is not judged on the merits of catching a fly. A swallow is not judged on the merits of catching a whale. We impress our Path upon those that seek it, friend, yet more so on those that do not know they need it. Do not weigh these words against us, for all souls are equal beneath the Heavens.”

A moment of quiet followed. “The world sheds no tears for the fallen mother doe.”

“The rain falls, despite knowing all that rests beneath it.”

[Looming Amaranth Tyrant] grunted. “Kinship in truth grants you a few further moments.”

“I would not suggest a thing as trite as hunting a [Divine Beast’s] lineage,” continued Fu, his whisker a-stroke. “Then we might think of only two solutions. Death or [Tribulation].”

The lizard loomed closer.

“Death or [Tribulation].”

Fu met his gaze. “Just so. Ivory Sea’s words held a hint of our insight. We have since spoken the full truth of it. I urge you. Do not doubt us.”

“Death or [Tribulation],” rumbled the Tyrant. “A paltry offer from one that can scarce stand within these hunting grounds.”

With playful ease, Hushi tilted the douli. “The Tyrant misunderstands.”

“Indeed,” Fu nodded, almost smiling. “We have offered nothing? In truth, we came for propriety’s sake, yet are met only with this threat of disappointment. Challenge resonated in our heart of hearts to hear your call- the news that you sought us. Such novelty, to pit Path against Path- [Primordial Law] against [Primordial Law]. But what challenge stands here but an aged pair that are quick to temper?”

“There are birds as contrived as you,” said the Tyrant. “As there are toads of queer patternage to incense and enrage. But you mistake my coming wrath for that of arrogance. Your opinion of quiet things betrays you, for veins can hold as much fire as ice. Passion and stillness are bedfellows as much as patience and haste. Do not think so little of us.”

Fu looked to consider this. “We think neither good nor ill of you, friend. You seek [Tribulation] to overcome your plight. It can be done, but not under the duress of threat. There is also the third route.”

“A third route. You speak of ascension.”

“We do. Though this method stands an arm’s length away. It is not our own,” answered Fu.

As more [Primordial Qi] was drawn from the Tyrant-named hunting grounds, the whiteness of purity began to diminish. Scenes of verdant, flaxen grasses stretched beyond the depths of their [Senses], singing in a wind that Shuidi desperately wished to consume.

Beasts of all stripes roamed here.

[Precursor], bird, fish and prey. Yet all were of fable. All were eternal and beyond mortal ken in shape, hue, decoration and strength, for each songbird within distant skies proved a phoenix, and the grazing deer were thunder-laced qilin, blissful in the face of the stalking nine-tailed fox that had immersed itself in reeds.

The Tyrant’s contemplative silence allowed a glimpse of these wonders before once more he returned to speak. “If you would aid me, speak your terms.”

“Friendship, no more and no less. From now until the [Hollow Throne’s] opening, I might wish to challenge these hunting grounds. A wealth of hardship exists here. For this, I would call forth a [Tribulation] to have you transcend death.”

It was not amusement that tinged the Tyrant’s smile then. “To transcend death,” he said, and tasted the air. “This much is not falsehood. Scents linger upon your [Spirit] to mark your escape from samsara.”

“Fortune smiled upon us once. The [Divine Serenities Phoenix] granted insight of this, unwittingly. Her venerable power is not our own, but death and life are not so separate. Merely another step to climb.”

Distantly, the nine-tailed fox leapt, having all but one qilin bound across the wind.

“As you say. These terms are agreeable. Begin.”

Fu smiled, and presented his palm towards the Tyrant’s shoulder. Much hair twisted there, as though a patch of briar had sought fit to plant itself, near indistinguishable from the fur that clad him. “Hold in mind, friend, that this is no gift,” he said.

[Primordial Law] surged forth in subtle fashion. This was a thing akin to [Red Cord Condemnation] in how it wove neat threads of [Tribulation] between the pair, spidering across Fu’s own shoulder as it did the Tyrant’s.

Hushi guided this process, excelling most at the intricacies of poison. For this was no less than a Heavenly toxin.

A curse.

Twinned clouds of golden [Law] stitched themselves upon each man’s shoulder, and when done, Fu dropped his hand. “We are tethered now. A pair of [Tribulations], both. It is simple, friend, we must both seek to end the other. Whomsoever dies first is offered the chance to conquer death, and so this shall complete until the process is complete.”

“We are to hunt you?”

“So too will we hunt you,” nodded Fu. “No step is taken freely.”

Ever did Shuidi find the disbelief of immortals amusing.

“[Primordial Law of the Hunt]. It is a broad concept. Yet here I think it narrow, for I cannot fathom this madness. What sport exists in trampling grass underfoot? This denies [Tribulation] in its lack of challenge.”

An arm slid from the douli, [Profundity] on its tip.

The clouds have receded, have they not? That [Karma] has twisted to deliver us such opportunity… we must show our gratitude to Grandmother once we return.

Hushi allowed the [Dao] to flow.

Insight gained.

[Dao of Coming Tribulations] ascended.

[Dao of Cloud’s Equanimity] [Fourth Pool] [Early]

Insight +240, Push +180, Control +180

[Dao of Cloud’s Equanimity].

What [Profundity] spilled upon the Tyrant was met with volcanic resistance, for an unflinching mountain could suffer no tide. It was the first furrowing of his brow, but this lapsed as he began to taste what the [Primordial Lords of Tribulation] had offered.

Thus the [Dao] entered, soaking both men and partners’ skin as if they were no more than brittle rags.

And brittle rags they became.

First went the [Inner Qi] of all. Then the [Might], [Insight] and other attributes upon their [Ink]. So followed the [Dao], the [Arts], and all [Prowess] any held with weapon, instrument or craft. These became enshrouded by inner fog, masked and hidden so all that remained was of breakable, mortal flesh.

The Tyrant blinked. “Mortality.”

A phantom twinge picked at Fu’s spine despite the tempering of flesh he had undergone since times of back pain and aged joints. “All that remains is [Spirit], friend. For what else might one need to rage against the Heavens?”

Hushi and Shuidi entered the douli and hanfu, nigh bolting down these fabric shields in preparation.

“Count to one hundred?” Fu offered, before making off into the grasses beyond.

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