Fatherly Asura

So it is that scraps remain to support the unguided, slanted growth of all those outside the influence of venerable Sects, Halls and Gangs.

To say Immortality might only be reached ‘this way’.

To say Immortality might only be reached with ‘this’.

With ‘our aid’.

‘You cannot’, and ‘you lack insight’, or ‘return in one hundred moons’, they would say.

But ‘do not attempt it’, or ‘do not act outwith our way’, or ‘to do it oneself invites ruin’, they would warn.

Sand dashed upon the flame of one’s soul.

Immortality is not so complicated.

“Immortality’s Shift,” by [Magnanimous Skewered Zealot]

(Note) This tome has been gathered for posterity, and is forbidden to lift from the Sect archive.

What might be read upon a ghost’s face but that which they wished to show?

If Fu’s vocation was not this - were he not tempered against surprise, disbelief and the impossible - he himself took pause to consider what might appear.

Myriad thoughts raced.

The [Hollow Throne]. Yongwu Long’s offer. [Splinters]. Bingbai and his warnings.

All things beneath the Heavens were surely to be thrust into chaos, his family. His Feng, Yuling and Yuqi… An, Shaokang, Yasodhara.

Zhu.

Udvah.

Kang Jae.

Hua.

To know all of Long’s ramblings would become manifest-

To know an immortal might claim this seat and mantle, overturning [Primordial Law], the [Boundless Dao], no… that the reality of these lands might be undone at the whims of those that stood at the pinnacle.

The prideful. The ignorant. The selfish.

Cultivators of cruelty and dispassion manifest.

The wind is swift. Let us hope this silence was the same.

With a circulation of Qi throughout his [Channels], Fu released the draw of his pipe. “Of all answers, this one may prevail,” he said, then chuckled loudly. “By the Heavens, none could ask for so great a [Tribulation].”

Lianse firmed.

Ivory Sea blinked. “There stands the clear, moon-touched nature of Gao Fu. Speak, bastard, and do not dare utter that no less than this is required.”

“I’d not care to hear any words on dangerous winds either,” added Long.

“Forgiveness,” said Fu. “I speak on this orchestration. Of all factions. Of these manifesting [Mystic Realms]. Of the land upon which Mingqin rules. The [Empress Above All] could demand no greater [Trial] to even begin entry. A fool-”

“Do not utter the words ‘a fool guesses,’ or [Sullen Saber] shall claim your tongue,” snapped Ivory Sea.

“Even so. The water recedes and I see much of what lay below a once murky tide. My only thought is,” he politely set his gaze between Lianse and Ivory Sea. “Unless I am blind, this meeting is happenstance. The [Hollow Throne] is contest manifest. Two cannot sit upon it.”

Long reached forward, and with unmatched audacity, stroked Fu’s whisker. “My, this grows stale. The talk, not that venerable caterpillar beneath your nose. The snow girl is misguided, believing what she wishes is the Empress’s throne. All she truly seeks is to ascend.”

Something flashed.

Fu knew it only when it was over.

A cataclysm of metal met.

Long’s scabbard thrust where [Sullen Saber’s] fingers met his hilt, sealing the immortal’s blade from being drawn. “Such fun,” he laughed. “But it’s the neglected dog that bites all hands. Stay your arrogance and I’ll show you a treat.”

“Do so,” commanded Ivory Sea.

The pair parted.

It was a minor flick that brought a… bone into Long’s grasp. Kin to the [Splinters], of which Fu had accrued many, for even in look it held a world-bending gravitas. Yet on inspection it became more of an effigy, and no less than the representation of a hollow fish.

Isuel broke her long, bemused silence. “Muyu. Many daoists strike this to keep time with their chants and recitations. That is not this.”

Ivory Sea was not as restrained as her swordsman. “[Divine Qi],” she gasped. “A repository.”

“My, is it?” laughed Long, earning Lianse’s scathing glare. “Yes. [Divine Qi]. If one has no qualms about how they obtain more [Divine Qi], this tool could gather it in abundance. For a cultivator that wishes to chase beyond the glimpse of all their Path has revealed… hah, well, such a tool might show much.”

Secrets beyond secrets. We must engrave every breath of this meeting upon our bones, lest if be forgotten.

Of note was Shuidi’s mental impression. “Hewn from a [Hollow Ivory Splinter].”

Hushi agreed.

Fu ignored the connotations. “Fellows. I propose a change. Venerable Lianse. Ivory Sea. To leverage my connection to the [Cherry River Sage], Jinghui Hua, She of All Crossroads- the benefits of her involvement need no explanation. With one foot in the dragon’s den, time has become that of a mortal’s view. It runs short. Thus, Ivory Sea, you need not forswear your [Dao Oath]. Merely grant Yongwu Long your support in his pursuits. If this is done, I shall petition Grandmother’s aid.”

“Further omissions, surely,” spoke [Dour Faced Strategist]. “Gao Fu. Would you not seek this prize yourself?”

“My prizes are threefold, and already in hand.”

The immortal strategist considered this.

Long, however, put on a dramatic show of shock. “Then you will no longer forsake me? Such warmth fills my heart to receive this pledge of loyalty.”

“Long,” warned Lianse, then, to Fu. “I would know why.”

“A thing that all wise men know,” he shared. “If no fish can be caught by day’s end, mussels will do.”

🀩

Already did [Winter] wane. Thereafter, the [Seasons] to weather would become nine.

Ten [Seasons]. [Hollow Throne].

Of their three, Shuidi was swayed most by emotion.

Her pride. Her rage.

Uncertainty hid beneath both, and few were the ghosts that could hide such from their own hearts.

Peace, sister. My own shell may shatter if the strongest among us breaks.

The [Spirit Crab] scoffed into this passing tempest- into the lightning upon which they rode to Twenty Sunrises City and the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s [Spatial Array].

Oddities draped the skyline of the punctured range that gave this locale its name as though it were some sick multiplication of Jade Songbird City’s first great immigration. For there loomed no less than a thousand darkened skies of Warships above the mild settlement.

Fu saw no trace of its before.

Instead he saw fresh bones like that of beach-dead whales. Carcasses of Warships whose beams twisted like the broken ribcage of some thousand, thousand slaughtered beasts. Sparks flew not in the crimson of any blood he might expect, but in the failing, failed and broken formations inscribed upon each.

Phantom blades flew. Water surged. [Spiritual Poison] was as a fugue in the air. The remnants of great, manifested trees dissolved into light before reforming as spectral beasts, flames, instant chasms into the earth and myriad more affectations of chaos.

Closer still, Fu spied the banners beneath it. The layers of this madness.

Above and soaring, the current lords of these skies were of clear and certain allegiance to the One Hundred and Eight, displaying the characters for ‘Twelve’ upon their sails.

For the defeated…

Too many to name.

The [Dao of Four Horizons] landed him some few li from the Clouded Court’s local branch so he might clearly navigate the rubble. A Warship of Quicksilver Pavillion stood frozen before him, and yet, this layer was the first.

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Fleet after fleet had undergone annihilation here.

Bones upon bones upon banners upon banners had become a carpet of devastation some dozen li tall from where the city’s original streets had stood.

Thick was the stench of a million deaths.

“Such violence cannot be blamed solely upon the [Hollow Throne] revelation and these massing factions. It is merely… nothing new,” scoffed Shuidi.

Ever are the weak prey to the strong. Such is the Jianghu.

What rampant energies cracked and tore at the space below took long minutes to sift through, pressuring his [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud], if lightly, as he moved to where the Clouded Courts surely still stood.

Even this destruction could not rival the strength of his Sect, surely.

There.

A mere two li eastward and down he felt the resonance of failure. Barely concealed [Cores] and [Dantians] foiled by the mortality of breath. His [Senses] touched upon the trite effort the talentless assassins of this once-City clad themselves with…

And something else.

Further displays of lacking talent.

Hushi felt a weaker cousin to their [Clouded Ghost Arts] swarm all about them, as if flies had now tasted the scent of rotting flesh.

[Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation].

The wind whispered of the Twelfth’s assassins among this wreckage.

We do not have time for such nonsense.

[Impending Mortality Dew] frothed upon his fingertips.

[Half Cloud Step].

Fu blurred to where the talentless were thickest, finding little to glean but the distortion to his surrounding winds. Queer curves of a breeze that spun betwixt the fallen wreckage above, below and sidelong to then twist once more.

Whatever talents masked these assassins however, were vexing.

Their internalized [Dao] were similar to his own.

There.

His palm sealed upon the now-aghast face of one unseen, and [Impending Mortality Dew] flowed forth.

The pain of having one’s cultivation sealed birthed both a cry and a lapse of his target’s suppressive arts, revealing a cloth-wrapped adolescent of blackened hanfu and [Spirit Centipede] partnership.

As did it reveal their immortality.

“We mustmake haste with this. Even low within the [True Lord Realm], they are a danger, and they are many,” warned Shuidi, infusing her own medley of poisons to hasten the assassin’s demise.

Hushi went further, seizing opportunity to tear the centipede in twain.

Yet immortality’s flame was more pyre than candle.

Some concerted show of [Resilience] had assassin and [Spirit Centipede] thrust hand and mandible into their aggressors, ignoring the winnowing poison that was put upon them as though it held no danger.

Both met the [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud], and both chittered their disdain.

An intimate display rose both through [Arbiter’s Soul] and from the poison convulsing through this immortal assassin’s [Channels].

How their [Spirit] flared to bring about some unheavenly [Dao].

How their muscles reflected thought, twitching to conjure a malefic set of emei blades into each hand.

And-

[Heavenly Talent]. They are of the Twelfth’s [Bloodline], and not merely servants.

Three hearts quickened.

[Wind Phantom’s Breath]surged from Shuidi.

Fu brought his chain to bear, having it slicken with such volumes of the [Impending Mortality Dew] that it spilled from the blade before becoming lodged in his victim’s [Core].

Blood finally spurted from the assassin’s mouth, staining the mask in a dark and seeping red. It seemed that to apply his unique poison to immortals most effectively, it had to be done internally.

So said the rapidly withering sight before them.

Brother, sister, the others respond to this. Already they shift course at the death of this ally of theirs. Small wonder, for our struggle lasted for nigh a minute.

Rare was the robust assassin, talented in [Resilience]. No.

This victim was weak.

Susceptible.

His mind went to those that approached and not the celebration of his first true immortal slain. As assassins of the Twelfth they were poor. As a whetstone for progress they might do… could the time be spared.

Fu’s fingers itched.

Our juniors within this fallen city’s branch cannot weather these assassins, and yet, reaching Grandmother Hua is of the highest need. We cannot be indulgent.

One sliver of unsuppressed air shifted not fifteen strides distant. It wisped in the crook of a fragmented pagoda’s cap, then winked southward atop the billowing sail of another Warship.

Their [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation] took heartbeats to adjust.

Indeed, Fu’s [Spirit] strained as he wrested control of more winds: more of these lacking breezes and stale drafts beneath the city’s wreckage simply to search.

The breath moved to his east, closer.

Then vanished.

Talents may yet exist among them. I feel this movement is a ploy. Are they aware of our [Affinity] from a single death? The disturbance to air is now more purposeful.

North.

A thin emei blade flashed by their shoulder with all the swiftness of lightning and vanishing just as quick.

They force indulgence upon us.

Shuidi scoffed internally, amused at the thought that they might be hunted.

[Half Cloud Step].

🀩

The [Hollow Throne] revelation had set Fu’s thoughts to churn like the rage at a waterfall’s base.

Truly, the [Fatherly Asura] had almost been consumed in shameful rumination.

Busy hands ever quieted busy minds.

A return to their foundations proved more cathartic than any [Pill].

Forty three seconds.

Forty three.

Forty one.

Thirty nine.

Thirty nine.

Thirty eight.

Thirty four.

Thirty five.

Thirty four.

Thirty three was met on the end of this second dozen, stagnating thereafter.

Such was the penance for their neglect, though it was one they vowed to swiftly rectify. Much time had transpired outwith the necessity for moon-facing acts and while their internalized [Dao] and [Clouded Ghost Arts] did not rust like unused blades, neither did they sharpen.

Again the blade plunged as if a key in some worn, antiquated lock. The turn of this key was vile, poison-soaked and thirdly, done with a flare of [Intent] along its edge. To damage flesh, [Core] and [Spirit] in once fell stroke.

Yet even then - thirty three seconds.

Immortals were not easily slain.

Fu exhaled as fresh wisps of greying light flocked about him, signifying the death and rupture of the [Spirit Panther] beneath him.

Hushi and Shuidi finished its cultivator thereafter.

This was the fulcrum, or so they had found. To assault both in tandem.

There came a sudden blur of blades through his chest, humming with subtle tongue of [Intent] upon them. More emei piercers of peerless deftness and swift violence to wrack his own [Spirit] with weakness of its own.

He danced free in clouds of broken mist- his [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud] well fractured from the hundred or so repetitions of this very act.

His aggressor went unseen.

Further, my winds. Hold fast.

The [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation] seized ribbons upon these ribbons. Stubs upon twigs upon the branches of what shallow breeze flew about this devastation. Fu’s will demanded they flow against the suppression of this foe.

A matter of attributes.

Of [Push].

Something brushed his domain of winds and-

A corpse tumbled before him, emei piercers in its grasp. The shade-garbed assassin was quartered and frozen, seized by a skin-thick coffin of perfect ice as each chunk fell segmented against the ground.

“What is this?” the wind whispered.

Fu’s heart calmed. “No more than you see,” he returned as their second selves unspun from all that clad them.

Peerlessly.

Together their domains of suppression cleansed more than alone, yet Fu found great disharmony in the act. Fu Gao’s [Prowess] in the [Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation], no, even the [Clouded Ghost Arts] was like that of the difference between Heaven and earth with their own.

“The assassins of the Twelfth-” he began.

“Felled,” replied Fu Gao.

“What of Twenty Sunrises City’s Clouded Courts?”

“These young serpents are safe. But, speak. Why venture this far?”

Fu extended a palm. “It is swifter to be shown.”

[Through Heart, Comes Thunder’s Righteous Thoughts].

Such was the thought, [Boon] and mantra of their connection that brought these halves into equilibrium. Memories. Talents. [Prowess]. Experiences. All but the physical changes and increases to their [Dao], and this was solely that Fu Gao’s Path of [Spirit] would not be impeded.

These three-paired ghosts staggered back.

Overcome.

So much… to parse. Changes. Memories. The deaths of some thousand, thousand foes. We- they have struck innumerable critical blows to the enemies of our Sect.

Pride welled at their continual effort: in knowing the sun-facing efforts had not left a chasm of duty in its place.

[Ink] burned.

[True Wind God Arts]

[Earthly Ascension], [Late] attained.

[Might] +275, [Control] +200, [Push] +200

And more.

[Tempestual Phantom Tribulations]

[Earthly Ascension] [Middle] attained.

[Might] +180, [Control] +210, [Senses] +180

Then, their shared [Dao]. With a result that bordered disbelief.

Insight gained.

[Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation], [Peak] attained.

[Insight] +135, [Control] +75, [Senses] +200

Our insight into Cloud Dragon Hall’s techniques have merged. By the Heavens, it is twice the results for half the effort.

More burned upon his periphery, and yet it went unchanged.

Oddities, like the [Clouded Ghost Arts].

Shuidi’s twin broke what questions he might ask. “Gao Fu dances upon the edge of duty. Foolish, other brother. Foolish indeed. Should words of the [Hollow Throne] not reach Master Ban’s ears first?”

“No,” shook Fu. “They should not. Our discretion dictates otherwise. Grandmother Hua is of highest priority given the dragons upon the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture’s doorstep. To maintain our facade, and [Dour Faced Strategist’s] hold upon Jade Songbird City, is to strike from a position uncontested. We could not act freely were another to claim its seat.”

Fu Gao stroked his whisker. “She is absent from the [Primordial Realm]. Indeed, it would take time to navigate that these greed-steeped fools would not afford.”

“Absent?”

“Absent in voice and presence. Hmm, yet, as these memories sift I see plainly that she is not,” Fu Gao continued. “Even still, it is not prudent to leave our betters in the dark. Of all his talents, a [Spatial Array] is meager for Master Bingbai. You forget yourself.”

Hushi’s eyes bore down upon his twin. The teal there, he impressed, was of darker luster.

“Our duties are our own,” said Fu, simply. “That our memories are shared rids any need to return to Bingbai. A deluge of blood has accompanied your [Seasons], do not let it muddy sight of those to whom our first promise is beholden.”

Something softened in Fu Gao’s pupils. “Do not be too indulgent.”

Fu only dipped the douli before both vanished from the other’s sight.

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