Fatherly Asura

When he moved, all things came to him.

Across his millenia of life [Plum Axe Zhu] had come across many wonders - revelled in them, as was his way - and moved to the next. One bauble had ever interested him above the rest, indeed, of all his immortal possessions this trinket was the one that remained in his pocket.

Rock.

No more, no less.

Where he had come across it he could not recall. Not in the Fragrant Flower Pagoda nor the depths of [Heartless Mountain], but surely in a mortal place.

One hand drew it from the sleeve of his flowing, plum-patterned robe, and the other maintained its brutish pendulum. The smallest crumb of rough stone. Odd only in its ability to draw metallic powder towards itself.

To [Pull] without Qi or Heavenward Property.

Magnetic, the [Cherry River Spear] had said. That was a word he recalled with perfect clarity. This mundane bauble, how it could be given so auspicious a description.

How simplicity yet held surprises.

Wondrous.

“Great father,” called one seed to his left.

Zhu granted her a smile with the warmth of ten thousand suns. “My little plum,” he greeted, cupping her face with a palm. “Does something trouble you? Your father will move the stars to rectify it!”

This peerless beauty of his loins, this beloved child of his, this daughter of his [Mantra of Heavenly Plums], she bowed ever so grandly, wrapping gentle hands about his swinging arm. “Great father, please, allow this lacking daughter to act in your stead.”

“Hye-hye-hye,” thundered Zhu, touched. “The bonds of family! The magnanimity of service to another! You have heeded my lessons well, daughter! Is there anything greater?”

His arm stalled, and the axe hung limp by his side.

There came a second bow by this beloved daughter as her own rose in kind. How swift she and her [Spirit Butterflies] set upon the endless legions before them, expelling quaint tides of [Force Qi] to further devastate their fortifications.

It was then the [Plum Axe] slowed entirely, watching his progeny with delight. “Lizi. See what wonders we produce!” he bellowed.

A monarch among insects fluttered across his bare chest. “The [Bloodline] is strong in this one.”

“Our little Linlin,” he said fondly and set off to inspect what wonders might lie amongst the rubble.

Cleaved stone cascaded at his step, toppling from severed pagodas and nauseating structures of brightest blue marble. The same hue spread among fallen banners, ribbons, and each homely affectation within this realm of falling [Spring].

Dust, fortunately, coated the blue of robes, many of which were already buried.

Thousands upon thousands upon thousands.

“Distasteful, is it not, Lizi?”

The [Spirit Butterfly] tittered in agreement. “Even the [Spring] fool’s colour was an imitation of our own. Of all colours, blue? These Heavens are short of wisdom and taste.”

“Indeed,” nodded the [Plum Axe].

Disappointing tides of force swept much of the eastern horizon. His Linlin’s [Prowess] once more, devastating the skyline and all that lay below it. To look upon it showed a deficit of… essence. How her felling strokes were embedded with a zeal to impress.

Overcome.

As though Zhu could think any less of his beloved for a slow rise in Martial talents!

“She need not impress us. Why rush? Though it is endearing in a way, no?” he thundered, collapsing a great ring of buildings about him with his laugh. “Ah, but perhaps she wishes to catch our eye for what comes next? Hye-hye-hye, how dutiful!”

Mirth guided his next step, and how the [Plum Axe] soared from such a feeling! His step was a turbulent bound, shattering and crashing as though a child stomping through [Autumn’s] ever-present puddles.

His final landing set him before a grand temple of some three hundred tiers, humming and ablaze with the force of myriad queer [Arrays]. Vast spectral whales rumbled across its surface, blue and glinting with prodigious immortal energy as myriad [Spring] cultivators levied long-range formations against his precious Linlin.

Her stance was that of a plum dragon! Her technique, unrivalled for one of her realm.

First among a converted barrage were blurring javelins of [Spiritual] make, then great gouts of lightning, [Mind Qi], [Sense] destroying [Dao Principles], humble volleys of arrows that blot out the sun, formations of multiplication, winds of [Spatial Qi] that sought to scatter her physical form and descending balls of flame that raced from the very Heavens themselves.

Linlin’s axe severed them all.

Each maelstrom split.

Each cataclysm ruptured.

The [Plum Axe] took her wrist tenderly, placing his back to the ongoing devastation that it might take the brunt. “Softly, my precious daughter! Softly. You chop with too much zeal! These cultivators are not foes to hate nor hearts to win, place only as much will as you need, no more.”

“Great father, this lacking daughter extends her gratitude.”

Linlin leapt forth, dismissing more of these [Spring] fools’ attempts.

Once more did the [Plum Axe] intervene, looking to Lizi for aid. Thus, the butterfly spoke next. “An axe forgets, but a tree remembers. Recall which of these you are.”

[Epiphany] overcame his beloved child, and he softened to see how she struggled to remain conscious. “Ah, my sweet. Watch your father work!”

He swung, and all things parted.

One dividing line emerged twain upon sky, space, sound, moment, and lesserly this physical space. His wizened eyes saw the line between all, that which was hidden beneath the realm-encompassing edge his axe sent forth.

The temple before him fell in two halves no less cleanly than one might slice a melon.

Zhu marched forth, jovial. “Come my daughter, see what insight you might glean in this sheerest of cuts! Your father will be overjoyed at any answer!”

With a force stability to her trembling step, Linlin gave chase.

Stymied cries emerged from the rubble in multitude, and here his daughter proved further diligence. Cleaner strokes launched from her plum-hued axe. Spectral cuts, Qi-borne tides or physical blows, it mattered not, only how deftly she severed the [Karmic Ties] upon them all.

“Hye-hye-hye, indeed, you have grasped it swiftly! Only the tree remembers. Be harassed not by their roots. Not by the snare of their branches! Merely cut,” he exclaimed. “Ah, my heart swells- Oh?”

His precious daughter’s face was unblemished. Radiant. Perhaps this highlighted the interest at his sudden pause. “Great father?” she asked, stalling the axe.

Opportunity seized the [Plum Axe] as he came to an arch of shattered stone, made so by the fateful crossing of several pillars. Much of the temple’s weight was poised upon these Heaven-chosen columns of blue marble.

Beneath crooned young voices.

“Father,” wisped a fading voice amidst the clatter of thrown stone.

Zhu rushed forth and pressed a palm against the arch of rumbling stone, and the enormity of cleaved temple simply lifted above his head. There stood a freshly Bonded boy of some seven moons, frantic alongside his [Spirit Bear] as they shifted the debris before them.

“My father! My mother!” he hoarsely screamed, turning red-ringed eyes upon the [Plum Axe].

“Are they buried beneath, child? Speak swiftly.”

The boy nodded, whimpering as his juvenile [Spirit Bear] raked its claws bloody at a spot by their heads.

“This place is a danger!” warned Lizi, fluttering close. “You would risk your life to save your family?”

“I- of course. Who would not? Please strangers, please! I hear their voices,” he cried.

In receipt of a nod of permission, Linlin cleared where the boy struggled. Her motion was a blur thereafter, arriving back with two [Spring] Imperials upon her shoulders which she lay gently beside him.

Both coughed as she dribbled [Plum Rejuvenation Elixir] into their dust-coated lips.

The boy fell upon them, weeping. “True Imperial Master. When I saw the orchid robes… I could not beleive… Our venerable Emperor’s fortune reigns eternal!”

Zhu ruffled the boy’s hair. “My beloved child, I grant you this gift. One born of love and that which I hold second only to you. Act as your father would.”

Clear confusion troubled the boy’s smile.

Linlin beheaded the mother and father, wiping clean the axehead on their distastefully coloured robes. “Great father, this lacking daughter’s gratitude is unending. I await your lesson.”

A flick of the palm tossed the temple’s entirety sideward as Zhu led his daughter away from the silent boy. “We are no more than the strength of our ties, child of mine. Here is a fateful gift. An opportunity. Your first rival, hye-hye-hye, here of all places! Truly you are blessed by the Heavens. If fortune prevails this boy will chase his vengeance, and [Karma] will aid in the retribution. I am almost jealous!”

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“A thousand gratitudes, great father,” she bowed.

But the [Plum Axe] was no fool, and softly lifted her chin. “My sweet? What could trouble you on such an auspicious day?”

“Forgive this lacking daughter! She would ask a selfish thing.”

“Ask,” laughed Zhu.

“If these lessons are learned, might this lacking daughter accompany you to the Jade Songbird Province… and what lies beyond?”

Terrible was the roar in the [Plum Axe’s] belly.

Thunderous.

“The dust must cloud your ears, little plum. We are no more than the strength of our ties. My favoured daughter will ever be at my side! Now come, Linlin, there is more wonder to spread!” he called, sweeping an arm to the remaining bastions of [Spring].

His beloved hesitated.

Her [Spirit Butterflies] landed limply upon her plum-patterned robes.

“It… I am Chunhua, great father.”

The [Plum Axe] roared once more. “Hye-hye-hye. Are you certain? By the Heavens, of course you are! Come, little Chunhua, most precious of daughters! Let us not keep these poorly-dressed trees any longer.”

🀩

[Ninth Under Heaven] pushed aside his plate, having it rest beside the other hundred perfections of culinary [Prowess].

The dishes steamed with a spectrum of aromas.

Bitter.

Sweet.

Tart.

Rich.

Savory.

Truly the talents of his Ninth were peerless in this regard- this minor talent. The [Dao of Flavour], of [Nourishment], [Cuisine], [Gifts] and [Invention] intertwined like the notes of a master guzheng player, conspiring to deliver the modest feast that spread before him on some dozen tables.

He picked at the sesame-rich duck breast, seasoned with shavings from a [Hollow Ivory Splinter].

[Primordial Qi] nourished his [Inner Realm], [Origin Core] and [Spirit] to such an extent that it had the immortal yawn.

These dishes and [Mystic Realm] trinkets did not inspire him.

Nor did they assuage his concerns.

A sigh brought him from the table, his ring-laden hand commanding his thousand unseen aides to discard these dishes. It was not the Lord of the [Ninth Golden Reserve’s] way to exhibit such frivolity with treasure, but these objects were his, and even the eyes of another Vajra Lord were unworthy to gaze upon his property.

All was resplendent about him. A tended forest of golden bamboo that had the sun’s light pale in comparison to its splendor- scarcely adding light to the gleaming, metallic marble that spread beneath his gait.

[Ninth Under Heaven] stepped, and the forest parted, bowing at his passage.

From between these trunks he felt the presence of his ghosts emerge. Their suppression trembled before him as each of the hundred assassins fell into a silent kowtow, lining the sides of his created path.

[Tithe of Weightless Treasures].

Crimson, [Demonic] energy wisped like some thousand, thousand fireflies from the brows of these submissive ghosts, feeding [Ninth Under Heaven] more than any of the paltry [Constellation Seeds] his chefs might prepare.

Their memories rushed forth, and he saw then what their eyes had gleaned.

How [Twenty First Under Heaven] and her meagre clan buried themselves deep from the sight of Heaven. Their entrenchment in multiple layers of both [Mystic Realms] and [Inner Realms], convoluting the designs of any who might interrupt their grand ascension.

How [Thirteenth Under Heaven] had intensified his crusade. A symphony of grim acts rotted in their wake, revealing the corruption of some millions souls they had left behind in the pursuit of their ascension.

How the upstarts of the newly crowned One Hundred and Eighth Clan rushed like the sightless children they were to grasp at more strength.

The same was not said for the Fourth or Fifth, for they would not benefit from the [Spring] Emperor’s demise.

Here lay [Ninth Under Heaven’s] source of rumination.

“Sage,” he announced.

All the marble beneath his feet responded to his will. There came a quiet ripple about him as slab and mortar realigned into the cradle of a great [Spatial Array], negotiating itself into the form of an octagonal archway.

It swept him hence.

He emerged some uncountable span of li across this brittle Empire, and the doors of [Venerable Reed Sage’s] great refining chamber were flung open at his arrival. Through these he marched, sighing as myriad alchemical disciples gasped at the sight.

“Lord [Ninth Under Heaven]-”

The Vajra Lord had merely to breath and their sight, memory and sensation became his own. Poor things. Of less worth than tael.

Yet even fetid raindrops might grind short a mountain.

“My friend,” wisped an ancient voice, and the Sage unfurled from nothing to greet him. “The Refining Saint’s Prefecture meets you with open arms.”

“Refining Saint’s Prefecture. How quaint that the Four Corners Prefecture has seen fit to honor you,” said [Ninth Under Heaven].

“As you say. Such a token is laughable. Cruel, truly, but one such as I, venerable beyond all suspicion, well, my only course was to accept,” returned the Sage. “Forgiveness. Let us not wax on the insignificant. The wise know that an ounce of time is greater than an ounce of jade, thus - let us hold council.”

An agreeable attitude.

“This ninth-rate daoist would share news and reservations.”

[Venerable Reed Sage] nodded gravely. “As would I. Yet, my ears are open.”

“Amituofo. The One Hundred and Eight are too readily prepared. Be it unforeseen talent or fortune granted by the [Boundless Dao], the timeline advances far beyond your predictions. Ascension closer to the true enlightenment will occur, for myriad clans, before the [Hollow Throne]. Amituofo. It is the fool that thinks less of his foes.”

All was silent save for the gentle ruffle of the Sage’s hand atop his beard.

“Even I would not question your knowledge on these matters, friend. So the lesser clans will prevail in their ascension. How troubling indeed. While I have accounted for direct counters for each of the One Hundred and Eight’s [Heavenly Talents], our own tools must be adjusted further…” he mused, wetting the tip of his finger. A strange gesture, truly, yet one that prompted the immediate arrival of a room-length, spectral scroll. “Hmm. Oh? Yes, yes,” he muttered, tracing all that was written upon it. “I must merely induct thirty seven of our pieces into the [Primordial Realm]. The foundation is long set.”

Heat prickled upon [Ninth Under Heaven]. “The h’siang sheng is a fraying path, unfit for this ninth-rate daoist. Amituofo. No [Primordial Lord of Accumulation] grants his possessions freely.”

“Peace, friend, peace,” the Sage waved away. “My vaults are less storied than your own, but will prove sufficient. Dust is the main concern of our [Constellation Seeds], not one another. Worry not.”

“The timeline is yet too swift.”

“Yes, yes, your [Spring] cousin fell altogether too fast. Peerless as we both are, none in our collective rival that of Gon Ma or Jinghui Hua. Potentiality is their domain, while we must submit to riding our own waves.”

“[Sixth Under Heaven] was a shamefully poor one.”

The Sage frowned. “As I said, were I Jinghui Hua, I would have goaded him later. That labyrinth- his [True Orchid Path], did not waylay the Clear Sky forces as intended. As such, the greed we engineered for your myriad kin to leer at… Indeed, the blind might see how his premature defeat paved our Path with thorns. Such is the intervention of serpents, no? A parable on their strength.”

“The strength of serpents is not in question. It is this…” [Ninth Under Heaven] could scarcely voice these words. “...reversal of fortune.”

Such a concept was bitter upon his tongue.

Unthinkable for an existence whose name was synonymous with wealth.

“Again I urge peace,” said the Sage. “The landscape of the Clear Sky’s inevitable slaughter will change, indeed. To total the weight of the honoured One Hundred and Eight is no multiplication, but addition. In place of grand alliances and ancient bonds fulfilled, we will see a tide of selfish desires- each clan will vie for their stake and thus, entrench the greater powers in a mire of additional troubles. It may perhaps ease our burden, venerable friend.”

This man was not of the [Dao’s] chosen. He was no Vajra, and while they were indeed conspirators, the ease with which he discounted his kin was irksome.

Perhaps it showed.

“I speak only the ancient wisdoms,” clarified the Sage. “It is not the enemy’s appearance that I question, but our readiness to receive them. Let us fret not on their attack, knowing that our position of millenia-tempered resilience is unassailable.”

[Ninth Under Heaven] considered this. “That we are ancient is no assurance. To consider this a factor is akin to staking our victory on the sun rising come tomorrow. Our foes hold as many millenia as we. And some…” he rubbed his brow as though a common mortal. “And some hold more.”

“More?” queried the Sage.

“An impossible claim reached my ears some days prior to this. Vetted alongside the claims of fallen scions that seek their Sect’s lost [Inheritances] and the maddened greed of some living ancestor’s progeny. This ninth-rate daoist heard him from the lips of his three [Dao Partners]- from those that can conceal no untruths.”

“Do tell.”

The Vajra Lord proffered a slip of papyrus, ordinary save for its myriad intricate formations. Meaning flowed there in characters, stealing more space, perhaps, than the simple ink etchings detailed upon it.

“Wealth Refining Immortal Golden Sanctum, Contractual Oath of Mutual Benefit, Number Three,” read [Venerable Reed Sage], parsing much in a single reading. “If I recall, and I do, this was the title of your enterprise in its infancy. Before you had arrived upon the venerable title it is now known by. Ninth Golden Reserve.”

“The [Boundless Dao] had yet to cross our stars then. This ninth-rate daoist was but an infant in the eyes of the Heavens. Few would know of this previous title for it was named such for no more than three [Seasons]. Only two account holders remain from that time. All else are the dust beneath mulberry fields.”

“Contractual Oath of Mutual Benefit, Number Three. The third account opened. They are not among these living account holders? Who then, and why is it of import? What content was held within this missive?”

Two thousand moons was a span of companionship that held much acclaim. Rare were the cultivators that might claim such bonds outwith familial ties.

Conspiracy on the scale of this undertaking. The matters pertaining to [Venerable Reed Sage], [Ninth Under Heaven], [Looming Amaranth Tyrant] and [Once-Beggared Ghost], their proposed New Heavens…

It ought to have fostered ties thicker than blood.

Such was the source of [Ninth Under Heaven’s] rumination.

“The content spoke of truths that only this lacking seeker’s forebears might know. Words of enlightenment unfit to be shared by this simple tongue,” the immortal said, succumbing to the Path his [Spirit] urged him toward.

That of a Vajra’s pride.

“These words were shared by one at [Dances Upon an Ivory Sea’s] side. An ally of questionable [Heritage] and affiliation, hailing from a speck upon a speck that no longer stands - a Thousand Shore City. It is from whence he overheard such truths that lends credence to my caution,” [Ninth Under Heaven] continued. “A reminder that a man’s schemes are naught against the complexities of the Heavens.”

“You believe that [Dances Upon an Ivory Sea] - this ally of hers - holds favor or allegiance to a clan of similar prestige to your own? For who else might know these words of enlightenment that you do not share?”

[Ninth Under Heaven] faintly smiled at so swift a deduction. “Indeed.”

“That snow-blind upstart only holds use as a scapegoat. A prize to distract from our true intentions. Ever have the rivers and lakes discarded of trash, and this moment is no different. We need only apply the correct pressure before this suspected… agent of your kin hears [Dances Upon an Ivory Seas] tales.”

“This ninth-rate daoist has already dispatched capable souls to address the matter. Amituofo. The missive was mentioned only that your opinion might be heard. More mysteries exist beneath these Heavens than treasures within all my vaults,” he returned. “To believe in this reversal of fortune…”

[Venerable Reed Sage’s] tapestry of wrinkles creased as he tittered out a neat laugh. “Such worry is unlike you, friend. You wish to know what countermeasure I hold in store should your missive have held truth? If [Dances Upon an Ivory Sea’s] ally was, perhaps, the one that first opened such an account?”

Pregnant silence hung between them.

“To whom does it belong?”

Three words filled the quiet.

To reach immortality was to escape the mortal confines of bodily decay. It allowed one to laugh in the face of millenia such as these wizened ancients had, and continued to do, if not so overtly as a thunderous cackle.

What fresh terror flickered in [Venerable Reed Sage’s] features then delivered a glimpse beyond.

This crack fled swifter than a hummingbird’s wingbeat: swifter than the arrival of [Tribulation] or lightning’s first strike.

Yet [Ninth Under Heaven] now had it burned into memory. A flash of lingering mortality that had every curated wrinkle, softened edge and grandfatherly affectation appear less as physical illusion and more as a reflection of true vulnerability.

As though this Sage were merely an aged man and not the unseen dragon this Vajra Lord knew him to be.

“Let us leave nothing to chance,” he finally said. “If even a grain of chance exists, not even nine generations would be enough to counter this tragedy. [Looming Amaranth Tyrant] must be called.”

[Ninth Under Heaven] folded his arms. “Amituofo. Already is he on his way.”

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