The city was fled, a [Paifang] was crossed, and a Beggar was followed.

  Fu wondered if trailing this Bo would become as vexing as previous interactions with his Sect had proved. Owing in part for what emerged beyond the threshold.

  An oddity in ndscapes.

  Empire of Abundant Spring, Realm 31,586

  [Spring]

  [True Lord Grade] [Lightning Abundance] [Water Abundance] [Dao Profundity] [Demon Scar]

  Pagodas were a staple of skylines, and few structures rivalled the swollen heights they reached. Yet here, structures scraped the sky.

  Constructions as one might see of any storefront, home or pavilion, if only at a scale that seemed to connect both Heaven and Earth. A guarded cliff’s edge held the [Paifang], and an [Array]-thick bridge of stone connected the mere nding of natural stone to the structures beyond.

  Thoughts of another realm or another trial surfaced, if briefly. Fu knew compints of circumstance would lend no aid.

  Rain fell.

  Udvah led the Wayward Winds forth, and each there knew to pce not even an eye upon the green path aside their own.

  Nor that of blue.

  [True Lord Grade]. We walk into the tiger’s den. Imperial immortals.

  Hope held across the bridge as no dire cultivators approached to bar their progress. Greens did not descend with lightning in hand, nor did a Blue boil their blood with a mere gnce.

  This realm merely held absence.

  Fu gave swift whispers to hold their formation. An outward appearance of Udvah’s seniority, as would be expected. But, to what audience? Distance to Bo was standard- a span of minutes to prevent ambush as they crossed the [Paifang]. Though, as with any others, he was nowhere in sight.

  Still, the [Hundred Immunities Fruit] yet tasted the scent of his smoke.

  “Subterfuge until the st,” Fu shared, confirming the complexity of [Arrays] as they broached the other side. “The defensive formations here of a nature to prevent escape. We must not be marked in this category.”

  His disciples shared subtle affirmation.

  An interior was reached through an open arch, revealing a chamber both empty and pin. Some vestibule if cking the resplendence such a space was worthy of. A thing of several li in all directions, and centered by a vast, inscribed ptform.

  “Amitabha,” began Udvah. “A [Spatial Array].”

  Of matching [Affinity] the Vajra held no difficulty in its activation, and did at Fu’s behest. His Qi flowed to be absorbed by the inscriptions there, soon manifesting a vortex to encircle those within its reach.

  Shuidi disliked the unknown beyond, readying mists should they need be employed.

  The tug came, whisking-

  Fu’s nose twitched.

  His bones ached as he found himself embedded in a distant wall. Fresh blood wound from his lip, testament to his [Resilience] for the structure itself was as fractured as his own body might well have been.

  “Oh? I’m certain you held no stories to tell, cultivator?” ughed Bo. “Or do I mistake you for another [Spring]-blind stooge?”

  A push loosed Fu from his near-coffin of wall, and his chain emerged. He had remained in the [Array] chamber as his disciples were whisked away. Interrupted, no doubt, that his mark might glean who it was that pursued him.

  “When?”

  “The soon-to-be dead shouldn’t worry about such things!” he swatted, dancing his pipe between fingers.

  With small effort, Fu snaked the chain about his single arm. Taught, so the bde held firm in his grip. “The Beggar Sect is talented, but respectfully, I would still disagree. When?”

  Bo tapped the pipe against his lips. “The rate of decay within my smoke. It fled as you moved through it, as it did in that noodle shop. A thing to work on in the next life, no? Still, a Sect for Beggars? Foreign words.”

  Through a resonance in his brooch, Fu felt Udvah’s far distant location and was certain a simir trial awaited there.

  “Perhaps. If of a vein with trading pointers as you told those you sughtered,” said Fu.

  [Half Cloud Step] barely caught the next blow. It was a clumsy parry that dissuaded Bo’s blurring kick, and a furious exchange that followed. [Might] met [Might]. Step met step. And so the flight began.

  Laughter ensued.

  The ghost and the beggar did not fight as the sun-facing would. Solid stances and marginal footwork. Each dodge was a vast leap to distant space, and each swerve was a negotiation around the other’s strikes.

  For cultivators and [Spirit Beasts] alike.

  Hushi blurred against Bo’s rat, the daoist Whitefur. Diminutive cws scored against his eightfold arms and its teeth tore well.

  Bo weighed Fu’s reaction amidst arcing legs, for which his martial path favoured. Hands, ever tending to his pipe. “Where is the outrage, Imperial? The cries of vermin or shame?”

  This will gain us no conversation.

  “We do not wish to fight, cultivator. Hold.”

  The blur of kicks did not cease, growing ever swifter.

  Intensity beat a strike against Fu’s chest, hammering him back several paces, and then another between his shoulderbdes, a third to his knee, a fourth to his ribs, a fifth to his temple that lead to a sixth-

  [Spectral Q suffused him. The coming sixth phased through Fu’s neck a moment before he reformed, and allowed his palm to close around Bo’s windpipe.

  Pull.

  This was not his [Spectre Steals the Stars] for a [Consteltion Seed] would not be gained. No. But the [Demonic Urges] returned to attempt it. To reap Qi from another, to plunder another’s [Core] and add it to one’s own.

  Fu resisted the lust for more, and demanded his [Pull] take only enough to bring their strength to equilibrium.

  Shuidi.

  Multiple occurrences.

  Bo’s features turned dreaded and enraged. The [Poison Q of his composite [Affinity] shredded through his [Channels], rupturing him from inside. Rivulets burst from his body. Crimson droplets that encased the Qi inherent to his body.

  The [Spirit Crab] employed these with immediate effect. A force of will that burst these into mist as they met Fu’s palm.

  Denying entry to his own [Core].

  “Our vocations do not allow for open conversation,” grunted Fu. “But I would talk all the same. Cease this.”

  All sense of Bo’s humour shrivelled as he retreated from Fu’s now-open palm. The Vajra recalled Whitefur, who simirly slipped through Hushi’s loosened grip.

  Yet Fu was the instigator. The searcher. It was he that had observed Bo, and he that sought answers. Such games were not to pyed lightly.

  That of affiliation, revetion and challenges to sworn Oaths.

  And so, simply- “On the [Dao], I am a man of the Clear Sky Empire,” shared Fu.

  “A [Demonic] cultivator of the Clear Sky Empire, yes? No better than these children of [Spring]. But, yes, to clear formalities- On the [Dao], I am a man of the Clear Sky Empire. To those of our vocation, no more need be said.”

  The chain still hugged Fu’s arm. “Gratitude. Our trespass should be forgotten, yes? Lest we beat the grass to startle these snakes.”

  “For what reason?”

  “For the simplicity of friendship. Is the enemy of my enemy not to be named such? [Thrice Clouded Boa] is said to wage her war, and there are those that would join her.”

  Bo swallowed an [Autumn Rejuvenation Pill] of some descript, though his suppression forbade Fu from sensing any change. It was a long moment before he spoke, more interested in blowing aside the conjured mists with his own. “Far rumours. The Cloudy Serpent Sect’s Mistress is not here. Nor indeed, there,” he smirked.

  Humor, Fu could do without. “All I seek is a link. If you might grace me with anything you have discovered.”

  “A turncoat would ask this. Some discrete ploy that might lead Imperials to my doorstep. Well, Fu Gao, I’ve never possessed much means of hospitality if this is your intention. No, indeed, I’m quite conflicted. ‘A man of the Clear Sky Empire’ holds much interpretation,” said Bo. “A confirmed [Demon] and implied ghost. If I knew more on matters of serpents and clouds, well, that would not be a tale so easily shared with such a cultivator.”

  Silence.

  Bo’s pipe spun between his fingers.

  “And what manner of cultivator might you share it with?” asked Fu.

  “Let us begin with an enemy of an enemy. Come. All you’ve shown proves you are heartless, and so I’d wield you as a tool to seek this confirmation. A truth-measuring test that would at least cripple your standing among Imperials should your cim of allegiance be false.”

  A [Spatial Array] unwound them atop a rooftop, far yet from Udvah’s returning resonance. It had stood in another vestibule, again, a distance from Udvah’s departing point.

  Rain fell here.

  Falling tides, it seemed, for water cascaded from the Heavens unceasing. From the lips of these sky-scraping structures, and on, streaming down the impossible heights between each building.

  Fu emerged at the peak to find lightning. Myriad forks that crashed against myriad inscriptions, all to be soaked up by some parallel of a [Qi Conversion Array] and travel thereon to pces unknown.

  No quiet process.

  He eyed Bo with subtle scrutiny as the Vajra led on. A curious man, and one in line with his [Affinity] of [Pestilence Q, for his mood, his words and manners needled Fu like an irritating welt. Intent on disarming him by getting beneath his skin.

  Annoyance is an effective strategy for those without children. Mere pestering could never be my downfall.

  To his surprise, Bo drew a fragment of the [True Orchid Path] and set it against the skyline. “Hmmm. Yes, there,” he said, scanning east across untold rooftops. “Your [Demonic] cousins continue to spill, and your Imperial brothers are no different. [Paifang] in pce of [Demon Scars].”

  “The [Law of Origin] read of a [Demon Scar]. I held no thoughts on it, but it is a peace to know that even Imperial Realms are troubled by their presence.”

  Hushi approximated a grimace, recalling their st bout with [Demons].

  “I’ll admit to you holding some talent, Fu Gao,” smirked Bo, prompting Whitefur to loose a mocking, antagonistic chitter. “Though there is talent, and there is might. If you’ve been blind to the Empire of Imperial [Spring’s] forces- well, here is a good show.”

  They flew.

  In pce of words, the pair blurred across rooftops. Over gaps, over well-constructed bridges to link each rooftop, and through varying sizes of the lightning-conversion [Arrays].

  On, until they crested the snted roof of a superior sky-scraper so all below might be seen.

  A roam of one thousand rooftops spread there, from east to west, and north to south. All coloured and delineated by the ever-diligent Imperials, for their robes of Yellow and Green oozed upon one great third of the avaible space.

  Bulbous, swarming [Demons] took another.

  Seven uncoloured immortals held the rest. Surely, as who else might stand against this?

  “[Imperial Realm 31,586]. A nexus,” said Bo, and Fu retrieved his own map fragment. Weighing the cim, he saw how five lines connected this Realm to others.

  “A poor pce to call home.”

  Bo drew deep of his pipe. “Where else?”

  Fu nodded grimly. “I would see this test.”

  Central to the three-part fray towered a stretch of many towers. A heart to this Realm that had Shuidi’s [Divine Sense] surface. The intervening distance was vast indeed, but a stock of three [Consteltion Seeds] lent some aid in determining a [Reliquary’s] location.

  But Bo again gestured east, and maddeningly, threw a snake at Fu’s head.

  The disparity between their speed was not so vast that he could not catch the serpent, some mortal asp of mundane scale, but the retrieval had eluded him.

  “Your Mistress makes it easy, no?” he roared with ughter.

  Shuidi bristled.

  Reverently, the asp in Fu’s palm had lifted. Its head bowed towards a superior serpent.

  “That- that is a method of discovery I had not considered. Gratitude, Bo,” he said, quite incredulous at the act. “Do Beggars often carry around snakes?”

  “When the need arises. Let’s be thankful you aren’t an assassin of the Cascading Elephant Sect, yes? Else this little walk might’ve gone longer.”

  Again, Fu nodded. “Then, Clear-Sky cousin, might we talk openly?”

  “Soon. I’m still of a mind to use you as a tool. We’ve some… small troubles here,” he said, this time truly gesturing to the three-part csh. “Your aid- what’s that phrase? The ancient one that your Sect forbids?”

  Ah.

  “You wish me to cut the head off the snake?”

  Bo’s grin streamed vast plumes between his teeth. “That’s the one.”

  ?

  Hushi continued to find the thrown snake amusing.

  Shuidi found it an affront to their vocation.

  Fu cycled small vials throughout his palm, seven poisons from which to choose. The standard stock, and the addendums from the Three Intricacies cn vault. His was a swift categorization, for Pinxui continued to bour with all he had pilged, and the treasures gathered therein were of use beyond the simple dispensation of death.

  It was why he sorted these seven, filtering them from the components of his ever-distant [Constitution] development that time had yet forbidden.

  So, seven.

  Bo’s improvement on the Loosened Tongue draught, now captured in vial- Beggar’s Tongue, to use Fu’s own naming conventions. Then on, to the [Innate Soul Impacting Bile], his [Spiritual] poison; Restful Slumber draught; and Asp Paralysis tincture.

  A staple of four.

  The three that followed had been lifted with silent thanks to the unwitting cultivators of the Three Intricacies cn, and their insight into the [Dao of Labelling].

  [Pure Yang Lotus Drops]. [Tears of Green Mady]. [Twin Demon Chrysanthemum Sap].

  To reproduce these through [Hundred Poisons Synthesis] was a toll. Each was a te [Core Formation] toxin, and the complexity and Qi-cost reflected such.

  He puffed a mist of the ttermost, having it spool from his finger.

  “Btant,” ughed Bo. “Or shall we wait until nightfall and poor lighting?”

  A second pipe was caught as the Vajra pitched it. Some mundane, wooden article fielded by mortal grandfathers the Empire over.

  “Further gratitude,” he nodded in return.

  [Half Cloud Step].

  The sea was reached and calm waves of Yellow allowed his passage. Thousands upon thousands- no, merely uncountable. Fu progressed amidst waiting ranks of his foes, patient, stock-still and hungry to leap against the two-third hordes array against their comrades.

  Eyes a-plenty trailed him.

  Some cripple, desperate to redeem his name. His house or cn. A mere un-enlightened, for Fu was not of the favoured Vajra.

  An adequate cloak.

  Resonance pced Udvah at a distance some hundreds of rooftops across. Westward. But Fu pulsed to recall them, knowing that many hands would lighten this load.

  Three sky-bridges were crossed before his first puff. A subtle test that he did not favour. This course was of Bo’s urging, and needlessly reckless in Fu’s mind.

  Mist hushed from his cheeks, pluming, where the ever-present streamers from his pipe’s gnarled spout were light. Shuidi held her skill here, nestled in the opening so that no egregious cloud would spill and reveal them as more than casual walkers.

  Parallel to his own route, the adjacent rooftop loosed a shrill cry. A second. A third and fourth. Bo’s efforts had begun. And so he matched this with outward breaths of his [Twin Demon Chrysanthemum Sap].

  A treasure that propagated in response to Qi-rich blood. Or so his [Hundred Immunities Fruit] intuited.

  Cries sound rose from his own side. Fu withheld his poison then, striding to a four-distant roof to begin again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Rain fell. Lightning struck, dissolving into the [Arrays].

  More roofs were crossed, and Fu’s better judgement finally surfaced. What fool would act like this? Poisoning cultivators in the heart of their horde?

  Bo cks if this is the extent of his pnning. Poison, sow confusion, strike at the heads of snakes.

  No.

  Fu negotiated through further numbers, removing the poison from each plume of mist. The few attacks had been subtle enough, he felt, but no more.

  Yellows began to shift ahead, parting the crowds and order. He spied [Dao] transting the news, [Spirit Beasts] and messengers reporting down the ranks. It spiked his [Senses], and crawled prickles over his skin.

  Bo’s pn was undesirable. Half informed and reckless.

  Fu had cause to wonder if home might better be reached with alternative methods. Not this sham of ghosts. Not at the Beggar’s behest.

  Yet, he held no link to the Clear Sky as of now.

  No better link to his family.

  In ten steps there came a resounding cry, punctuated with a salvo of drumbeats. These deafened and called forth the Yellows in stampede. One uniform motion that arrived one rooftop cohort to the next, ever-pressing the space where their comrades had fallen.

  Myriad shoulders brushed his own as he melded with the crowd. In-step until the uncountable mass halted at their given post.

  Rain fell.

  Cries sounded where he had walked. Only where he had walked.

  With neutrality, Fu expanded his hearing. A heartbeast passed and no less than a million rising chests threatened to rupture his eardrums. Intakes of breath. Thundering raindrops. The patter on sodden robes.

  All.

  Shuidi met his thoughts, wresting control.

  Of the seventeen rooftops in his wake, the inflicted wailed. No straight line to mark his progress, but there.

  Bo’s… was silent. Clear. Void of poison or mist.

  It was then that his pipe spontaneously leaked. Gouts of poison-steeped mist burst from the spout without Fu’s command, spilling about him in no quiet fashion.

  With [Pull], he retracted what spilled into his [Core]. But the damage was done. Fetid welts surfaced on a dozen Yellows within arm’s reach, cursing them to choke and bleed in horrific fashion so that he was the solitary cultivator standing.

  This is not our poison. Why does it-

  The Vajra could not be tracked, but Fu was certain he heard a muted ugh.

  He has engineered this.

  “Hope, Gao Fu. A blinding thing.”

  [Half Cloud Step] blurred him from the scene, poorly, for the sea of Yellows about him were already moving to the next rooftop.

  Calm returned, as panic would only reveal him. He breathed, and slowed, merging with the press to better mask himself. The bodies were dense enough for it, with few having witnessed anything in the mists.

  Or so a fool hoped.

  “Souls of Yellow! An assassin stands in your midst, and a fool!” rumbled a voice above. Something thunderous and delivered as further lightning broke. A teardrop emerged in the clouded skies, forking cracks of brilliant teal to ever widen and produce to whom the voice belonged.

  Blue robes danced in the wind, untouched by rain. Her [Spirit Tiger], a manifestation of storm itself in how its form jolted with no physical shape.

  One regimented step set the surrounding Yellows and their beasts into clearer lines, pressing foreheads to the rooftop in supplication.

  Fu’s self-loathing did not overcome him. Mere reactions were enough to nd him within the ranks.

  Hounds soon filled his [Senses]. Searching voices and… and [Dao]-ced words that rose from closer than he felt comfortable. Demands of “Reveal yourself,” or “Submit, false-Imperial.” Those that grew closer held a weight of authority, fraying his nerve.

  Whatever profundity the searching parties held inspired further idiocy in him. It begged his legs to move, or a hand to be raised by obligation. An admission of guilt to be cried.

  He would not have been so blind.

  “Perhaps,” mused the old catfish. “His heart is harder.”

  A whisker was stroked. A pipe, puffed.

  The ranks about him afforded a central avenue, through which the Yellows’ [Spirit Hounds] emerged. Wild-seeming beasts, or those with the bearing of mundane dogs. [Arts] passed loudly from them. Amplification techniques to sense some unknown sense, or seeking things, colouring ribbons in the air in myriad hues.

  Scents.

  His pursuers strayed closer. Fifty hounds, agitated by a found trail. Behind, their cultivators stalked the ranks to inspect all that knelt there with small, gemlike instruments or minor conjurations of the [Dao].

  And one by one, the other Imperials were dismissed.

  Shuidi impressed a need to vanish. To conjure a [Half Cloud Step] so they might begin afresh.

  Fu Gao and Hushi coldly rejected this. The Old One rejected this. Untroubled by the horde of roving cultivators not twenty strides sideward, they entreated their [Hundred Immunities Fruit] to seek the Beggar.

  Faint traces yet lingered, carried on the wind. Down, descending the sky-scraper’s exterior with some recency.

  A poor ghost leaves wagging tongues.

  [Dao of Wayward Breez-”

  “Few things are so simple, fool,” announced the Blue, scoffing for these thousands to hear and prompting a mass turn. A mass draw that levied the same number of falling weapons about him as his [Dao] failed to realize.

  Lightning struck.