The [Dao of Sanctuary] had stripped Udvah’s mental energy, and yet he knew that outward appearances must be kept.

  Fu Gao felt his attention in subtle looks before passing first through the [Paifang]. There, he allowed the respite, deigning to have these fresh initiates follow on foot.

  [Ink] came, welcoming all to the [Shore of Heavy Whispers].

  And more.

  As first through the violet screen the Wayward Wind’s senior stole the attention of those guarding the other side. Some noose of Imperial Yellow that had jian arrayed aside the predatory looks of their [Spirit Beasts].

  Shuidi marked their number as an even hundred, and his own eyes marked this as troublesome.

  Frail disciples of the True Serendipity Association filled the space behind him, ever growing as more joined from the [Mystic Realm]. What excitement was fostered in the previous moments turned swiftly to fret, quiet and wary stance.

  Curiosity y in this meeting.

  Both of this realm’s [Paifang] were severed. Inert. Yellow Moon Hall, the Imperial Magistrate, and the other driving factions here would know this.

  Might they have a means to traverse it, or is this simply foolish hope?

  Hushi shook as a strident youth took center stage. Described as such for his walk was forceful, accompanied by the menacing presence of a four-tailed [Spirit Fox]. A beast of scale with any mortal bear.

  “The saboteurs of a false Empire, at st. Yellow Moon Hall has much interest in this means of opening the [Paifang], and demand it be shared before your deaths,” he said.

  Fu Gao’s disinterest in names had far waned since his dealings with Bo. Here stood another, perhaps of power, perhaps not. His [Heritage] put him in step with the Patriarch, Asik, and conjecture might pce this man as a member of his household.

  A son.

  Need we know more?

  “That statement is bold, child.”

  The son loosed a bellicose ugh, spying his arms wide. “Do you hear these words?” he roared. “Spun from an aged cripple’s mouth.”

  Men of this ilk longed for demonstration. Arrogance, naturally, transcended Empires. Despite this, his cultivation was a match for the ghost’s own.

  “Would you test this confidence, boy?”

  Again the son ughed. “Against you? A master of Yellow Moon Hall would not lower themselves to such base acts.” He flurried a hand instead, ceasing conversation. “End him.”

  One hundred. It would be a trouble to lose these initiates so soon.

  Those of the Crimson Shoal Sect surged forth, tridents and schools readied to meet the onsught of this son’s Yellows.

  Udvah rapped his gun upon the ground to stall them. “A matter for seniors. Lest mistakes be made.”

  [Three Wisps from Breath].

  Mist flowed down Fu Gao’s wrist, and a chain flowered beyond. A sequence of wisps that pushed forth through the orbiting breath of his [Clouded Ghost Arts].

  Innocuous enough that the rushing Yellows paid no heed as he gently flicked it into the first wave of ten some number of matching paces beyond.

  Then the paces fell to nine. Then all below, descending and nearing to show a vileness take root in their flesh.

  Liquid streaked down the faces of human and [Spirit Beast] alike - at no small cost to Fu Gao’s [Inner Q. His freshly pilged poison, the [Tears of Green Mady]. Intrinsic knowledge told of its effect.

  [Senses] spoke of their Qi.

  How it clotted a single [Meridian] on their Path of [Body] to choke their own power against them.

  They fell.

  Fu Gao’s chain dissipated to then course around his feet. Outward, so his [Dao of Pilged Breath] might begin. “Disciples.”

  “Disciples,” ughed the son. “You dare pce that trite number against Yellow Moon Hall? I will admit your danger, cripple, but no more than this.” [Lunar Q fred In tandem step with his [Spirit Fox], flickering to manifest a waxing moon in the air above this fray. Fed from the tip of each tail.

  Frost spread underfoot for this. Dark fell, despite this [Summer] being in te afternoon.

  “Beg now, false Imperials,” he ughed.

  “Disciples,” Fu Gao said once more, his displeasure evident.

  Su Sai’s meteoric hammer cracked against the son’s chest, battering him back several strides as he warped [Lunar Q into a protective dome. A rush of lightning followed, dancing at the appearance of Anfang’s vai-tadar- if also rebuffed.

  “No, sister. I will test this fool’s worth,” he said, retracting his weapon.

  Those behind Fu Gao gasped at so sudden an appearance. Two cultivators that strode from empty skies or bnk space. Then this rose as myriad more emerged from the perimeter. Mayhaps, within the perimeter, for the Wayward Winds blew about the necks of these Yellow Imperials.

  His disciples stepped from shadow, from obscuring [Dao] and manifested Qi, pulsing to deliver a swift, single stroke to all foes upon the periphery. And there they lingered. Silent. Imperious in bckened uniform and… douli. Brims lowered and masks drawn so that only the coolness of their gaze might be seen.

  Palpable fear strengthened Fu Gao through his mists, bolstering his cultivation through the [Dao of Pilged Breath].

  Udvah rapped his staff, and Mangam conjured a great wall of mandas at their rear. Vast, shimmering traps of [Spatial Q. “Descend,” the head ordered, pushing his manifestations to swallow the moon above.

  ?

  The csh was not fwless, but doctors alleviated this. Aarushi’s talent, and indeed, Rivaan’s [Prowess] in the medicinal arts ensured that none of the Wayward Winds fell to the ambush.

  More so, the cultivators of the True Serendipity Association held simir talent.

  Though weary, Fu heard much of their exchanges. Some few passing comments - idle chatter that he would have to bleed from them - for no ghost should gossip or voice opinion when in such open company.

  But they were pleasing.

  Comments of awe. A medley of “Who” and “Are we”, which increased in surprise by leaps and bounds when the nature of the Wayward Wind’s disciples became known.

  “A doctor?” they said. “An [Array] cultivator,” or “Alchemist.”

  Fu passed the duty of inauguration to his juniors. Not as he was unwilling, but for the simplicity that his tasks y elsewhere.

  So he sat, and cultivated.

  Hours passed.

  Curiously, a bath was drawn upon emergence from his [Conception Vessel]. Where such a tub had come from, or indeed who had filled it became clear when he smelled the fragrant poisons upon each petal scattered within.

  Our juniors are good to us, no?

  A soak granted time to reflect. Hushi nguished in the toxin-riddled waters, melting to the tub’s base with no small bliss while Shuidi set to fastidiously cleansing her shell.

  “Each foray adds further complications, does it not?” Fu suggested. “Even this cycle. We venture, we return, we reflect. Is this a thing to be satisfied with?”

  Neither partner returned a thought.

  He could summarise much. How they had sought news of the Cloudy Serpent Sect, and all that had followed. The betrayal that had led to fresh initiates, fooled as they were by Fu Gao’s attack on their senior.

  Shuidi rose from the waters to perch atop a floating petal. Her impression was strange, stuck between all they had seen and the acts done. Uncertain.

  “We will turn the might of these fresh initiates to our cause, but no more. Ever am I fixed with the impression that our course is unrefined,” he continued. “Where possible, let us avoid further attachments. Our focus will be foundations.”

  Earth Tyrant Hall, or the [Spirit Cow] partnered to Mi Cha rose in Hushi’s thoughts.

  “And this invitation. Yes,” Fu recalled. “[Imperial Realm 10,46]. A deadline, if these cultivators choose to accept it.”

  Much to dwell on.

  Matters of routine followed thereafter. Practice followed reflection, and so on with Pinxui’s gathered reports. Yet, after each handful of papyrus was unfurled he found a second pining for Master Bingbai. For a form of guidance.

  Such were the troubles of leadership.

  When the early hours came, he stalked the halls. Those of the True Serendipity Association and Crimson Shoal Sect were settled in bunks, gddened to be under the hospitality of those they had freshly sworn their [Dao Oath] to.

  The Wayward Wind disciples trained diligently under rotation, undergoing drills as ordained by Su Sai.

  How these ghosts now sparred even so short after an encounter with the Imperials- Fu thought this spoke well of them.

  What more?

  Su Sai’s [Spirit Serpent] caught his eye across the gloom-soaked training hall, and bowed subtly. However, his cultivator was ever the louder sort. “Disciples, Senior Gao walks among you,” he near threatened with his tone.

  Greetings were made, to which Fu curtly accepted. A thin smile to his lips.

  Among the disciples several [Spirit Beasts]... recoiled.

  That is odd, no?

  “Disciples, this is standard I greatly appreciate. That my summons did not impede your training is most impressive. But please, as you were,” he said, and had Sai follow to a chorus of commencing blows.

  “Senior,” the man nodded, showing only this propriety.

  Fu saw no need to force supplication. This dispy was enough. “Head Su,” he returned, noting the marks of bdework upon his skin. “The Patriarch’s son?”

  “Yellow Moon Hall is known for [Capacity], so says Pinxui. I’ve found they ck. These rumors are skewed, whispered by Red and Orange fools who know no better”, he scoffed. “He was no more trouble than any average cultivator of the Clear Sky Empire.”

  “And Pinxui has more details on their appearance?”

  Like a fsh, Sai rounded. “Disciple Xiong, you’ve practiced this footwork. Do you believe the Imperials will wait while you adjust your [Yin Equilibrium Stances]? I expect you’ll wish to stay through the next rotation to rectify such a btant mistake.”

  Across the hall a bow returned, for no words dared be uttered.

  Sai’s [Spirit Serpent] hissed approvingly as her cultivator continued. “As you say. Though Pinxui will deliver this at length. Simply, the [Shore of Heavy Whispers] is aware of us. The [Spring] Chime cn used unknown [Arrays] to locate our Warship. Guesses fly that the [Paifang’s] activation was sensed in this way, hence their cking attempts at ambush.”

  “Troublesome,” mused Fu, a hand to his whisker. “Gratitude. We will rectify this. Perhaps personally, the disciples’ training is paramount. While it is of benefit to hold many at [Foundation Realm] to realize our goal, there is the matter of [Core Formation Grade] realms to contend with. Do we hold any that are close to ascending?”

  “A number of this fresh batch rest at te [Foundation Realm]. I’ll have no notion of [Prowess] until their training begins though. [Array] cultivators- gah, the mere thought… They’ll tarnish the Wayward Winds’ image if inaugurated early.”

  Ghosts should hold no image. But I do not think he misunderstands that.

  “Whispers,” gruffed Sai.

  Fu nodded softly. “Are they prevalent in Five Silences City?”

  “Would not rumours of any force be? When despair is to descend on the citizenry, I’d not have it be with embers of hope. No Imperial will match mistake or weakness with those that prey upon them in the night. No.”

  Some small resonance came from Shuidi. As if she valued these words.

  “Then I will continue to leave them in your care, Sai,” he said.

  The social aspects of his routine put Fu to wonder as he continued on. [Of Perennial Shade] - though their roles were the difference between that of Heaven and Earth - could not receive as many visitors.

  Did her duties fall to paperwork and meetings? Master Ban was ever desk-bound. In the bowels of the Four Corners Prefecture, Master Jiahao was orbited by aides and papers.

  Did this speak true for [Gleeful Viper]?

  The taciturn Gon Ma?

  Perhaps such involvement was the marker of good leadership.

  [Refinement Arrays] bred before long, and at their central was a moderate [Pill Furnace] of aged bronze look. Distant from the geniuses of alchemy, Fu had always likened such treasures to cooking stoves save for the inscriptions and spiritual feel to each.

  Pinxui’s partners tended this as she paced about their [Array] chamber. Her thoughts seemed far from the exploit, and the colony of indigo [Spirit Ants] acted much separate from the parchments she scrawled upon.

  Even alone with his Schorly Head, Fu did not ignore propriety. “Disciple Wen.”

  “Senior Gao,” she murmured.

  Hushi impressed his humor as Pinxui refrained from leaving her work.

  “Disciple Wen,” he said again.

  Irritation bubbled behind her eyes as she gnced up. “Do not…” Realization dawned quickly. “Senior Gao! A thousand apologies- I- that is to say… The refinement process of these [Spring Rejuvenation Pills] is imperative; observation on Sonali’s efforts towards arming the Warship’s [Defensive Arrays] draws my focus; administration of the True Serendipity-”

  “Peace, disciple.”

  “Peace, yes,” nodded Pinxui. “A cruelty.”

  Fu suppressed a ugh, for he knew few souls would curse a respite from work. “You are diligent as ever, Pinxui. These matters will not take long. I come first to ask on you, and second to query something separate.”

  “I will respond to the best of my ability, senior,” and set down the parchments to supply her full attention. “The [Spring] Chime cn’s [Array] work still mystifies we schorly heads. Shameful, for the foundational tomes recovered from the Three Intricacies vault are of stelr quality. Our problem lies in the formative aspects of their inscriptions; opposing [Arts] in construction; and indeed, the intricacies that far outstrip that of the Clear Sky Empire.”

  The Wayward Wind’s leader could only blink. “Outstrip?” he asked, though his original query was far from this.

  “Our methods of inscription- those requiring use of the [Twenty Eight Figurations], are constructed and refined to act on pre-existing blueprints with individual [Dao Principles] and Qi-effects inscribed as addendums. Those within the Empire of Abundant [Spring] have a basis of what might only be described as circuitry. Individual threads of these aforementioned [Dao Principles] and Qi-effects woven as delicate threads that comprise the entire [Array]. For this, we have not managed to identity the true nature of the[Array] employed to discover our vessel. Thus, again, a thousand apologies.”

  [Circuitry. A novel name for such inscriptions. Young Gao Fu, if you would…]

  “There exists a recurring pattern to these individual inscriptions, disciple. Threads of [Profundity] that allow for the [Array] inscriber’s own signature to bind the meaning behind all that is inid. It is this that muddies for what you seek, masking what is arbitrarily drawn from a codex of myriad circuits commonly employed across the Empire. However, accounting should be made for the complexity used, and allowed between different Castes.”

  Shuidi held no surprise, for the Old One’s tutege was peerless. To oppose this, Fu merely grasped at the edge of understanding.

  [Arrays] and schorly affairs were best saved for the talented. True geniuses beneath the Heavens, such as Feng.

  Yet Pinxui’s cheeks flushed. “Senior Gao Fu. My shame resurfaces. That you must arrive to instruct me in such rudimentary insights is a wound against my division.”

  “It is… complex,” agreed Fu. Unaided. “However, my question was not of that nature. I wished to ask on your [Consteltion Seed] before any more is said. As senior, I have neglected this for too long.”

  Teal was Fu’s signature. Hushi’s tone, and then that of Shuidi’s granite. Often did [Arts] adopt these colours, of [Qi Manifestation]. [Ink].

  So it was that indigo bzed upon Pinxui’s palm, blossoming an unnatural and fming eye to settle there. She moved with certainty, which Fu allowed, pcing her affected hand outwards so that his brow became its focus.

  The eye brightened with intensity.

  “A master of cobalt blue, and within his corner a vast [Spirit Turtle] lies dormant. Two men rest upon a knee, one of plum-eyed [Heritage] and the other stands here now. Words are exchanged and a [Spirit Butterfly]-”

  Some approximation of fear twitched Fu’s hand. “Disciple.”

  Pinxui drew back, perhaps hearing how that word was delivered. “Senior Gao.”

  “You reap my memory.”

  The Schorly Head shook. “The gifted [Consteltion Seed] does not allow for that, senior, despite what a boon that might be. My [Eye of Serene Rekindling] draws memory from objects. It has past events appear as limpid water, watched as though a tapestry moves in my mind’s eye. To know its limits- it must be said that sound is not imparted, and what range it affords sways with the saturation of Qi the object has been exposed to.”

  “That scene, [Seasons] have passed since,” he said. “It can delve so deep?”

  Behind, the furnace flickered with instability. Moqin, the disciple’s [Spirit Ant] Queen, looked to wrestle as her Qi spasmed for singur moments about the treasure. So too did Pinxui’s brow crease.

  “My cultivation limits this. But in time, this treasure should allow unblocked sight into myriad avenues.”

  To think in terms of intelligence gathered… this [Consteltion Seed] is unparalleled. A stolen bde might reveal a foe’s [Prowess]. The history within a room. What might a table say? A chair, a bowl, a bone?

  “The Phoenix’s realm was of [Core Formation Grade]. To look upon your [Ink], Pinxui, you will see the [Primordial Consteltion Gate]. How one part of four within that scope is filled. [Foundation] remains, and three to complete beyond,” Fu smiled, if minorly. “Know that upon your ascension to [Core Formation], the boons afforded will grow.”

  Such words were dangerous, for Muqin’s efforts stuttered again.

  “There is such a good thing?” she said, intrigued. “No, if my senior says so then naturally this is possible. Then in what format? Do the [Boons] afforded grow, or is there an addendum? Separate powers based upon the [Consteltion Seeds] nature, or those in line with the cultivation of those that possess them? To strike one’s concept of the Greater Path like this leaves much uncertain, no?”

  Fu nodded. “This is so. Concepts are rarely formed at [Foundation], lest one is granted a inheritance, however, so this should be of no concern. At the ascension to [Core Formation], the [Boons] become clear. How swiftly that is reached is on the individual. On that note, disciple, I would ask my query.”

  With composure, Pinxui drew her quill back. “As stated, I will answer all I can.”

  “Beyond matters within the [Shore of Heavy Whispers], I would ask for a list. Gathered by a number of disciples that I will lend to you. The [True Orchid Path] holds myriad realms, and therein must lie benefits for many within our Wayward Winds. Realms to temper our disciples further, one of [Lightning Q for Anfang, or Su Sai’s oddity of [Rage Q. These can surely be located, yes? And firstmost, Udvah’s must be found.”

  The quillwork was loud and swift. “For seclusion?” she queried, and several more scrawls of parchment loosed from her spatial ring as Fu affirmed this. “Might I be so bold as to ask why? As I am yet to compile reports on your time in [Imperial Realm 31,586] the details come as third-hand accounts. Was there discovery, threat, signs of the Cloudy Serpent Sect or otherwise?”

  “Absence,” he said simply. “A fool would mark a thing as true from one attempt, no? But they are distant yet, and those that dwelled there- while holding hope- I saw few with loyalty beyond what interests might serve them. Harsh, perhaps, to judge them so, but I pce trust in my eyes. Let us act as if we are to be ever alone, and bolster what we have without the relief our Sect might grant.”

  He saw then, nothing. Pinxui did not defte to hear this. Her darting gaze merely held as it was processed.

  Moqin finished her refinement, settling the furnace. A presence of [Force Q levitated the [Pill] forth, suspended as this Queen among ants descended to her cultivator.

  The product was ignored.

  Pinxui’s silence spoke of much, for it was a rarity. “If the Cloudy Serpent Sect do not come?”

  “Preparation,” Fu countered. “They will come, and we will ready. Yet we must extend our thinking. Hours, days, and weeks. Mortal constraints. Those that we should leave behind, lest we seal ourselves in such a past.”

  This was the insight gained from so brief a foray.

  Hushi’s next image was mencholy. Of three adolescents, distant. Then of [Seasons] passing, and just how many it would be until they were met again.

  If not moons.