West holds giants.

  [Spirit Beasts] born in isotion. A group that holds more in difference than hundreds or thousands, myriad in scope, form, ability and temperament.

  These enigmas named [Precursor].

  ‘Before’ is a bell rung rarely beneath the Heavens, for what is before the timeless or ageless - what comparison might be held against the longevity of the Cherry River?

  (Note) Further examples will not aid this point, and no offence is intended by the omission of those venerable souls that the Cherry River knows to be aged and wise.

  The Chasms of Ancient Soce.

  A buried locale within the furthest reaches of the Clear Sky Empire, bordering the vast ranges of the Warring Tribes. It was here this mystery was first unearthed.

  “Chasms of Ancient Soce,” a colborative study by the Cherry River.

  Time was spent in transit, and refinement. Preparation in service to Fu Gao’s imposed deadline and the roles he would have both Earth Tyrant Hall and the Western Bone Cult py. This consumed the remaining days until the Wayward Winds finally stalled.

  [Imperial Realm 10,426] was reached at the end of forty one leaps. Forty one individual [Paifang], crossed, acted upon by Udvah and left behind.

  Fu slowed in practice, advancing through his test motions of the [Wind Phantom Strides] as disciples met the open deck. For this he dropped from the Warship’s peak, already uninspired by the tamed breeze that several [Arrays] prevented.

  “Senior Gao,” bowed three. Those of former allegiance, unmade. No longer Crimson Shoal nor True Serendipity, but Wayward Winds.

  This bow was low, having Shuidi satisfied with the address.

  “Disciples.”

  “A thousand apologies for the interruption, but these three juniors have returned from their missions,” said one, a broad shouldered woman of twinned [Spirit Spiders].

  Ae-jung, if I recall. Named with the convention of the western Clear Sky Empire. All beneath the Heavens are vast indeed.

  “Do not trouble yourselves over this, it is a senior’s duty to hear of his disciples’ progress,” Fu said. “Perhaps you would be swifter next time, Ae-jung, for Head Pinxui’s report has already reached me.”

  The woman affected a minor blush. “I express my regret,” she csped, having the pair at her rear mirror it. “We will strive for further diligence.”

  “Admirable, and yet if even one among you surpasses the Schorly Head’s diligence then I will have further considerations, no?”

  What nods came were nervous things, as to be expected.

  “Recall.”

  Though the words of several hours prior were fresh in his mind, [Intermediary Wisdom] accentuated each point at a moment’s notice.

  “Disciple Gang, a time will soon approach when your [Tyranny of Seasons] will dull. Those of Yellow do not uniquely belong to [Spring], and [Qi Manifestation] is an edge best not relied on when you come to face Castes beyond. To walk a Path with one leg shorter often leads in circles.”

  Gratitude glinted in the eyes of Gang and his crimson [Spirit Eel]. Those of [Summer]. “This insight is more than is deserved, senior.”

  “Disciple Yi Sao, the Schorly Head speaks highly of you. Though my understanding is that you have yet to acquire insight into the [Dao].”

  Shamefully, the second disciple’s head hung. “As you say, senior.”

  “The Heavens do not impart their secrets freely,” he nodded. “Senior Udvah would be best to aid in this matter. When your tithe is paid, I suggest you ask.”

  Yi Sao bowed low, and her [Spirit Samander] copied.

  Here followed matters of face, for a lifetime of Sect hierarchy could not be so easily erased. Advice was no open gift, and Fu thought this a thing of fools. To most, advice necessitated failure, as no comments could be made if a cultivator’s actions were perfect.

  To allow Ae-jung to go unscathed is to breed resentment among her peers. Such folly.

  “Disciple Ae-jung, to speak of tithes - your own is met. Ten outings in as many days. Ten successes,” the senior continued. “There is much merit in this, for the sturdiest herbs do not grow without sun. Only ensure that your zeal does not blind you to other duties.”

  Disappointment fshed. “I will commit this to heart, senior.”

  “See that it is so. And yet, contribution must be awarded. Yi Sao, Gang, I grant you leave. Ae-jung, you will follow.”

  Exchanges were given thereafter, and a walk began. To address juniors was commonpce, and but a minor change from his duties within the Cloud Gathering division. Perhaps this is why he rarely pondered over the delivery.

  Or perhaps he had found that nurture applied as simirly to disciples as children.

  The treasury’s threshold was reached, and Fu gently rapped upon the closed screen. Not to dispel some profound [Array] as the Clouded Courts possessed, but to scatter the serpents that made this oft-sealed room their nest.

  “Have you thought on this, disciple?” he queried.

  Ae-jung followed delicately, pcing her feet about the neat tide of snakes slithering by. “Yes, senior. The [Yin Equilibrium Stances] are my only Martial technique, and I would not shame the Wayward Winds with meager [Prowess].”

  These words do not ring with truth.

  Myriad were the faces of his disciples, holding as much variety as the [True Orchid Path] itself. But this one was no Zhu- no mold of neutrality.

  “Disciples may tire of these words, but a fool guesses,” offered Fu. “You stand here for ten missions, show me the reason for your success.”

  With the certainty he expected of his ghosts, Ae-jung and her [Spirit Spiders] gestured. A conspiracy of fingers and spindled legs that traced fine thread between them.

  Hushi’s arm twanged a string as one might the same upon a pipa, finding that his arm did not move it. Their resilience was admirable, but one that needed no further testing. “An [Art] then. Powerful, and intimate. I would share caution however, for those upon the Path grow less troubled by suffocation as they advance. It is the rare middle-stage [Core Formation] expert that takes a breath more than once per hour.”

  Had his own [Dao of Suffocation] not ascended, he would face this same vexation.

  Ae-jung’s response was of interest. The [Hundred Rhythms of the Golden Needle] emerged from her hanfu, letting fly three individual needles. Threaded by the silk of her spiders and set to multiple corners.

  “The cultivators of Silkworm Hall employ simir techniques as their [Heritage]. I have not seen it used in conjunction with the [Hundred Rhythms of the Golden Needle]. Have you advanced far in this?”

  “Shamefully, I have reached only the third rhythm,” she returned, vanishing her strings.

  Aarushi’s own [Prowess] is far higher. So speaks the resources of the [Sixty First] Vajra cn, for she arrived here as a novice in cultivation.

  “Weapons exist with simirity to this, if you seek that course. Odd among cultivators are bows, or the Martial Head’s vai-tadar, but they would create a suitable mire if used with your talents. A qiang would strike truer if its target could not evade. The-”

  “Emeici daggers. There is a suitable [Heritage] technique within memory].”

  “-Emeici daggers. Subtle bdes the width of needles.”

  Fu’s suggestions continued in range. Without the use of a [Contribution Array] and reasonable methods for treasure and wage: missions totalled a disciple’s merit. Ten could be swapped for weapons or manuals, [Pills], treasures and portable [Arrays]. More, needless to say, that would continue as the disciples put more behind them.

  Thus he expined and took joy in it, offering what guidance he could. A bance to his [Karma] for what might come next.

  ?

  The second sunrise had all affairs in pce.

  Targets sought and targets found. Some fortune, he had mused, for without the Wayward Winds intervention these sun-facing experts would have unmade themselves in mere hours.

  Fu Gao would not allow that, yet.

  “Foolish cripple. Bloated pride blinds these actions, for these are no more than the rash pns of a former mortal.”

  Shuidi steamed mist into Ivory Sea’s face, having her retch from a mite of [Poison Q.

  “You-” further retching ensued. “Act as mortals do and you’ll ever remain as one. Transgressions of this nature will doom you, as history has all that have shared this course.” Her final retch was swallowed by gusts, for Fu Gao had already leapt from the lesser Warship.

  [Dao of Wayward Winds]

  His disciples already lingered among shadows. Well stretched blotches that the hour cast in spades.

  These four will be tested, and Zhu will not suffer fools.

  A nding; a leap; an escape into gloom. These had him approach the coalition, those of the Clear Sky if garbed in disgruntled yellow.

  Mi Cha of Earth Tyrant Hall did not notice his appearance, and started as Zhenbao’s superior [Senses] pced the ghost. “Master cultivator,” he greeted, one skeletal hand upon his gun. “You will see how we are not idle.”

  A second brooch, one studied and replicated from the first, resonated as Fu Gao called close his spectres. And so they did, surrounding the arid sands upon which all gathered. Only then did he speak. “You number less.”

  The [Spirit Cow] aside Mi Cha rumbled in displeasure.

  “Those of [Spring] tighten their borders,” its cultivator also rumbled. “Refrain from speaking further of our fallen, for I do not believe you possess words that might honor them.”

  Fu Gao could only dip his head. “You think me to revel in misfortune?”

  Those cultivators not of his Wayward Winds shared an intake of breath. The inanity of assumed slights well ingrained in these sun-facing Sects, and furthered by the unknown [Realm] of who they addressed.

  But Fu Gao tilted his palm before Zhenbao might correct it. “Here, an enterprise begins. Know that mistake and insult must separate. You stand here, and as such erode such minor transgressions. But I would know, cultivators- can your own pride be swallowed?”

  Earth Tyrant Hall collectively grunted their agreement.

  Zhenbao’s ilk were measured. “We would not presume the bounds of your tolerance, but we will uphold this.”

  Agreeable.

  Small winds cast the surrounding sands at their feet, rising in strength. An old thing, or so it felt. With it at Fu Gao’s back, he ascended the dunes to share this vantage with those in his wake.

  Of a previous seventeen when he had visited the White Dragon Alliance, the coalition of two Sects were a paltry twelve. Even so, the engrossed [Spirit Beasts] of Earth Tyrant Hall quaked with every proceeding step.

  Mi Cha’s voice was a match for this. “Why gather here? The shade that delivered our summons shared no detail.”

  Purposeful silence.

  “Cultivator,” she quickened.

  The dune’s peak spoke for Fu Gao, sharing its view. That of ringed peaks, siblings of where they now stood, and the gaping chasm in their center. In li, it spanned hundreds, and in depth it was unguessable.

  But [Divine Sense] spoke of what awaited them. Shuidi’s pincers could scarcely hold still, her curiosity abound.

  A gun arrived to his east, and Zhenbao’s unsuppressed Qi rippled across the sands. [Death Q, and an overt wave of putrid blue. “The bones here rival many battlefields in scope. Rare things- rich things, powerful [Spirit Beasts] and the lesser chaff of Red. A pce of ceremony, cultivator?”

  “A pce of reverence,” Fu Gao returned, and had these allied cultivators absorb the scene before he spoke once more. “I would not py a game of riddles. Truth should cut swiftly. But for this, I would have the [Dao] bear witness.”

  Mi Cha, intent on piercing the gloom of this distant hole, snapped around. “A [Dao Oath]?”

  Murmurs passed in troubling fashion.

  “Master cultivator, this would bind us,” offered Zhenbao. “The Western Bone Cult have come at your suggestion, but not for supplication. For what would you have us swear?”

  “The Jianghu prizes the secrecy of this matter above all. Where we are to tread will change all you might know of Heaven and Earth. Silence must be sworn. This is no offer, Tyrants of Earth and Cultists of Bone, but necessity.”

  This statement was allowed to fill the air.

  To swear a [Dao Oath] was no light thing, and at a stranger’s bidding no less.

  Few were those of Earth Tyrant Hall. Yet a bearing of [Might] and [Resilience] poured from them, despite it. In tan hanfu and matched by [Spirit Beasts] of a profound and feral scale, they seemed indomitable.

  The softened look of Mi Cha’s stoic brow as it turned to concern opposed this. “Earth Tyrant Hall will not be as these sands,” she grunted. “Scattered and weak. We will swear this [Oath].”

  Fu Gao motioned, and to the shock of all a ghost appeared with jade chit in hand. The surrounding factions whirled, surely wary of where such a cultivator might hide amongst these well-exposed sands.

  But the chit was exchanged thereafter. “See that it is no crippling thing.”

  Mi Cha read all detailed there, grunting her approval. “On the [Dao], I, Mi Cha of Earth Tyrant Hall swear to speak no words of what will transpire in the [Reliquary] before us, nor will I speak of the treasure unearthed there and any others that follow from this venture.”

  Once uttered, golden [Profundity] sealed it. As it did for her disciples.

  “One might use such an [Oath] to commit bckened deeds, master cultivator,” said Zhenbao, accepting the chit.

  The desert turned cold at Fu Gao’s smile, or so it seemed by the shuddering cultists. “Blind are those that believe an [Oath] is required for bckened deeds, no?”

  ?

  This lesson was not for the coalition’s benefit.

  “[Heat Q. [Martial Profundity]. [Beast Realm].”

  Mi Cha moved at the tip of this spear, half coated in the [Reliquary’s] shadow. Her realm was that of middle [Core Formation], and she required little light for the fact. “A trial of imagination, then. Zhenbao, this task falls to your ilk.”

  The Western Bone Cult’s senior said nothing, pcing rapt attention on the speaker. Necessary, for Fu Gao had forbidden his words to be transcribed to scroll.

  “[Sixth Under Heaven’s] imposed order grants benefit,” he continued. “To separate by March indicates much. In [Grade] and in ambient Qi.”

  “Lesser realms on the spectrum of [Core Formation] would grant a challenge fitting of this then, I see. There is calcution to this risk. To weigh the [Trial] of this [Reliquary] against its [Law of Origin] would conjure notions of heat, martial [Prowess] and an inclusion of [Spirit Beasts]. The reasoning is not so profound, Mi Cha.”

  These were no complicated facts, and so Fu Gao nodded. “Beware the Heavens, Western Bone Cult, they often bely expectation.”

  “Naturally.”

  Only brief whispers were exchanged with his Wayward Winds on the flight into this chasm, fed down a patterned staircase well hidden by cascading sands. But they knew their role, and the information that none were to share with this fresh coalition.

  The dark persisted for many hours, until before them ranged a vast and derelict structure.

  Crumbled sandstone and colpsed pilr, forming the perimeter of a circur arena too sprawling to detect the far ends of.

  “A token is required to begin, or the [Trial Guardian] would do so in its stead,” warned Fu Gao, having Shuidi range her [Senses] into the gloom.

  Zhenbao strode forth in strange fashion, boldly, with gun raised level. [Death Q once more roamed about him, casting as if a fetid wind had begun to blow. “We would prepare, and these sands are rich.”

  Those of Earth Tyrant Hall did not stand comfortably. Their looks, askance.

  His [Divine Sense] warmed in retaliation for something different.

  A surge of sands rippled before those gathered, building and solidifying until there stood the hardened form of a grand, imperious samander.

  Mi Cha rumbled her approval. “A mighty [Spirit Beast]. Earth Tyrant Hall would welcome it gdly.”

  “Cousin Cha, that is a statue.”

  “A depiction must have its muse,” she returned, and her Sect stamped in agreement.

  Fu Gao stole closer, his hand searching a finger’s width above the surface. The [Earth Q was distasteful to his [Core], feeling acrid the longer he searched. So much so that he barely detected the thin split upon its sandy scales for the suppression.

  “Prepare,” he said.

  Underway with his unknown efforts, Zhenbao shook. “We cannot be rushed.”

  “The Heavens care little,” said Fu Gao, leaping back as the [Reliquary] quaked.

  All about them rumbled as if the very earth’s heart had begun to beat, and the flow of sand gushing into the chasm suddenly intensified. Where before a gentle river, now floods descended- an avanche that, in breaths, crashed against the boundary of sandstone pilrs.

  Surging and surging, the tide pushed, and as it pped an army emerged.

  Warriors of sand, and [Spirit Samanders] at their breast. Yet no [Core] nor [Dantian] pulsed within them, not beneath the pted armor nor militaristic qiang at their arm. Merely a sliver of light, some reddened jewel present in both beast and man.

  WHERE RIVERS RUN DRY, WHAT ELSE MIGHT QUENCH THE THIRST OF SANDS?

  “[Ink] comes, the [Trial] begins,” Fu Gao noted. “Decipher its lesson and prevail, there is little else.”

  The warriors advanced at a step, carrying no haste in their actions. This threat came in numbers, for the uncountable mass left no gap between shoulders across the entire perimeter. Thousands upon thousands.

  “Earth Tyrant Hall, this task must lie in destruction. Reduce these constructs to sand,” called Mi Cha, setting her fists before her.

  A motion copied by her juniors.

  Sister, determine the nature of those glowing jewels. Earth Tyrant Hall have eyes but cannot see. No [Trial] is so clear.

  Zhenbao’s cult conformed to a central circle about their leader, wherein the [Death Q from each painted cultivator was fed towards him. An [Array] clearly, or [Art] that their Qi work in some concert fashion.

  But timely.

  “Haste, Zhenbao,” grunted Mi Cha, spreading her formation about the central samander.

  Then their noise was distant, for Fu Gao arrived atop the encroaching warriors. [Might] delivered his arm through a perched sand-hewn [Spirit Beast] to deliver the scarlet jewel to his palm.

  It shattered in retrieval, having its partner warrior crumble as a result.

  Spears of sand gave chase as he danced about them, feeling a burn of suppression as their [Earth Q neared.

  Though meaningless without contact.

  Shuidi’s sights went to the jewel - a second, third and fourth as Fu Gao dallied - plunging his hand in those that passed.

  Her impression came swift.

  [Blood Q resides within. Then to spill it would quench the sands.

  The first jewel shattered in his grip, and crimson energy flew. A thin stream to enter the nearest warrior and beast.

  He merely blurred, retrieving the affecteds’ jewel as some change took hold. A toughening of their exterior sands and a bolstering of the power within each. They crumbled all the same.

  [Half Cloud Step].

  Fu Gao arrived on the samander effigy’s back, and when crushed the [Blood Q jewels spread down.

  A minute crack appeared.

  “Shatter their jewels here. Do not allow them to cim it,” he ordered, calling as Mi Cha stampeded through the burgeoning ranks. Her Earth Tyrant Hall, peerless against these softened targets.

  Heartbeats.

  Cshing.

  Then, a cry. Something startled, more than signs of imminent danger, for a sleeker disciple of Mi Cha’s Sect grunted. Her knuckle exposed. “I am scored, and the cut does not staunch.”

  The warriors did not cease, and some among them swelled.

  At the samander, [Blood Q entered. A differing sort born of Earth Tyrant Hall’s mistakes, for at its touch all the cracks upon their target’s scales were undone.

  “Disciples,” Fu Gao whispered, addressing those yet unseen. “Know this: I forbid you to bleed, lest you wish to discover what that truly means.”