[Cherry River Pilgrim].

  She walks, calling this profound.

  Insight into voyaging, trekking, meandering, wandering, stomping, crawling, or some scribe’s tome of words that mean the same.

  Her nds encroach the great Cherry River, and this right cannot be disputed.

  Those chosen by the River are of the River.

  Eversting, despite the falcies of choice.

  Her disciples are few and beholden to a silhouette of absence, for she is elsewhere as her Path suggests.

  Tales speak of her [Dao].

  Wisdom to have mountains feel restless, and have them wander in turn.

  Words of Novelty; Freshness; Experience; Discovery cd her as feathers, matching the hummingbird shawl her partners afford.

  This author is not privy to more, nor should time be spent on those that fail to follow the Clear Sky’s will.

  “Forks: A River of Cherries,” - Author Unknown

  The avenues to follow upon his Path were myriad, growing with each foray into fresh realms and [Trials]. Fu had mused on the [Twin Mockeries Heartplume], enriching his understanding of ascended [Dao] and the [Consteltion Seed’s] unseen confluence over a span of many hours.

  To treat Ban Bingbai’s rescue as paramount narrowed what actions he might take to further both.

  A chain of duty, reinforced by [Dao Oath].

  However, this was a cruel light in which to view it. Unwelcome, and the opinion of those who knew less.

  His children would yet dwell in poverty had Cloudy Serpents not intervened.

  Motion stirred across the [Trial’s] lounge, and thus hesitantly drew his stare from the doorway to ascension.

  Shuidi supported this act, despite pining over the [Dao of Wayward Breezes].

  “Cultivators,” he greeted after small steps, finding a pocket of his juniors.

  Weary jaws soon set and those [Spirit Beasts] at rest aside or upon them straightened into propriety. A mere eight in this arrival.

  The highest count yet.

  “Honoured stranger,” came their shared reply.

  Fu washed it aside. “My congratutions are given. To stand here in triumph is a mark of pride, and should be acknowledged.”

  An assassin’s joy returned, muted to further swell his pride.

  Capable juniors. My hope must be weighed against Ban Bingbai’s wishes: their fates, yet to be named.

  “Is there something you seek, master cultivator?” asked the leftmost, Rivaan, of close retionship to Aarushi.

  The douli shook. “None but well wishes. Aged as I am, it is a joy to see such talented youths. A [Trial] of this measure is fateful. An encounter that comes once within generations. I would appud any that seek to move higher.”

  These eight stirred, mirroring their partners. With permission granted Fu spared a parting bow, drawing deep of his pipe. Wisps trailed in his wake, fading swiftly against the horde of [Gu] that stifled much of this lounge.

  Shuidi urged him right.

  His [Senses] expanded, for here was an opportunity to broaden talent. How the [Gu] wound was not of notable presence. The [Demons’] absence could not be detected as ambient force, but in the reduction of Qi at range.

  Thus he walked distant from where his [Mist Q vanished, and to gatherings of those that were not beholden to the insidious [Gu].

  Pristine robes and peerless beauty. Flesh sculpted by Heaven’s hand. [Spirits] of such strength that they denied its suppression. It was here he moved, an aged cripple among the Jianghu’s elite.

  “Cultivator,” came a csp, which he returned in his fashion. A presentation of singur fist, but a mark of respect no less.

  “Cultivator,” was his return.

  Ten or one hundred times.

  To reach this stage rid rank from the [Trial], in most, and these ptitudes were acknowledgements of equality beneath the [Boundless Dao]. When his mists plumed in plenty, he stalled this search, gauging much of this room’s strength.

  Then, [Senses] unveiled a second benefit. “Cultivators,” he greeted, forcing bour through his voice.

  A pleasantry met him. Seven nods or affectations that spared him a invitation. “The mist-wrapped stranger,” said one, a Vajra of oceanic print and immacute beauty. Interwoven in her cascades of raven hair were two [Spirit Insects] of spider-like kinship.

  Her Imperial robes, coloured Blue.

  “Old man,” greeted Zhu, setting down a saucer so that Tanshuai might sip.

  The third was of gentle feature and deceptive youth. Meaning inscribed the article upon his nose, spectacles of ruby-lenses, infused with a [Dao] Fu could not parse. They jilted as this cultivator flinched at Zhu’s greeting. “Oh, ah, master cultivator. This guest… you see- we offer our welcome.”

  Such clothing was a peculiarity, for the powerful held no need for them, and mortals could scant afford such a luxury as gss.

  “I am Fu Gao,” he smiled, manifesting a front of grandfathers and elders. “My partners, Shuidi and Hushi, we seek a pce to rest weary bones.”

  “Amitabha. [Spring’s] blessing, stranger. Within this pce of no belonging, you may sit freely. This one is named Aahana.”

  “Zhu,” said Zhu.

  Speech proved a great trial for the third, who cleared a cough before contributing. “Jae-. Ah, Kang Jae.”

  The mists of Fu’s pipe thinned. “A name of the Western Clear Sky,” he said, noting the convention.

  “Is this where you hail from, Fu Gao?” asked Aahana. “West. Tales of your Empire astound. A vastness unmatched, and yet, this one would ask of distance? Is it not a pgue to be ever from-reach?”

  [A Wisp from Three Breaths].

  Fu whisked the pipe’s fumes, and a rendition of the [True Orchid Path] appeared. “A [Spatial Array] trivialises much, noble Aahana. Age might speak for me, but the leaps between your [Imperial Realms] weary me more. From a March of Red to one of Green, this has my knees ache and spine wish for plush cushions.”

  “Amitabha, a truth,” she nodded. “To this one, west is west, and pin to see. An intimacy when compared to the west of yours that might hold east, so far it travels.”

  Movement brought a [Spirit Grub] to Jae’s shoulder, its [Affinity] of clear [Wood Q given the leaf-like flesh. “West to east, mistress Aahana?”

  “West to east, or north to south. Is the Clear Sky [Imperial Realm] not spherical? Common among venerable [Sixth Under Heaven’s] domain are the orbs. An earth rounded, that one might walk a circuit given a hundred moons to do so.”

  Zhu looked to his saucer. “Spherical? No. This spirit wine is too weak to influence my ears. The Clear Sky isn’t spherical. Nor is the [Law of Origin] viewed upon entry, it’s no [Mystic Realm].”

  Impressions passed from Shuidi.

  It is not something I have pondered, sister.

  “[An Array in One Hand] held no accounts of this. Curiosity would drive me to know. Yet… Trivial. Inconsequential.”

  Some boldness overtook Jae. “The Heavens decree otherwise, Mistress Aahana. All within the Clear Sky know of the [Twelve Divine Beasts], and the earth as comprised of the [Divine Cinnabar Tortoise’s] shell. Her penance, for greed.”

  Then we are not of the Clear Sky, for this is unknown to me.

  “Her growth, unceasing, and from this the vastness of the nd. master Fu Gao, master Zhu, is this not… is-”

  Zhu drank deeply from his wine. “Among the Warring Tribes I hold many sisters. But within the [Divine Vermillion Ape’s] own, it is not so. Not a Heaven-wrought punishment, to hear her speak, but that of the Ape’s. Still, Imperial Aahana, no sphere.”

  “This one intended no offense,” waived Aahana as her [Spirit Insects] rose to prominence.

  The mists formed a sphere, and Fu’s [Control] had wisp-made figures tread across its surface. “In youth I knew not of Clear Skies. My home was a hovel, backwater and ignorant of powers the likes of Cherry Rivers and [Plum Axes]. Pilgrimage upon my Path revealed more, as it might of spheres, no?”

  A scoff sounded from Zhu.

  “Amitabha, another truth. It is feared you believe this to be my mantra. Yet it was a query, no more. Cultivator Jae speaks passionately of these topics. More so than previous conversations,” she smiled, burying the subject. “Does cn or Sect belonging have you close to these [Twelve Divine Beasts]?”

  The sheepish cultivator brightened. “A distant dream, undoubtedly… No, the… Forgiveness, Aahana, a cultivator’s word is vital. We promised not to speak of Empires and difference. Such- ah, the benefit here is… of the [Boundless Dao]. Insight shared.”

  With far grander [Control] than he, Shuidi misted forth a spoked wheel.

  Tanshuai burst through to have it fade.

  “I’ve no love for saddened beauties,” menaced Zhu.

  Jae’s [Spirit Grub] seized as if [Winter] itself gripped him. “Of… of course, cultivator Zhu. Mistress Aahana, I meant no disrespect. It is only…” his paling features turned to Zhu. “My belonging is humble- not of association with the [Twelve Divine Beasts]. Few possess the [Divinity] of their lineage, or would speak upon it openly. Known to all is the [Clouded Serpent Qu-] ah, my belonging was the question, no? I am independent. A cultivator on retainer where tournaments are to be held.”

  “Is that so?” smiled Fu. “Forgive these prying looks, Kang Jae, but I sense medicinal Qi upon you. A doctor of some renown?”

  “Merely a livening [Pill], master Fu Gao,” Jae said. “I… I am a technique evaluator. My- forgiveness, my wish is ever to be unseen and unheard. To deliver words behind papyrus and chit. A better course… for me.”

  The words stirred visible interest in Zhu and Aahana, prompting the former to bring forth wine in offer.

  More conversation followed. Idle and false. All for unspoken questions, the likes of which neither ghost would openly ask.

  What strength do you possess to hold such a [Consteltion Seed] within you? This signature that eclipses all I have known of [Core Formation] treasures. And moreso, how best might we reap it?

  ??

  Three days passed, and the trickle of those ascending ceased. A sober reflection that Fu would save for Pinxui, who in eternal fashion was spied amidst myriad scrolls and flowing quill.

  All among the Wayward Winds that had not progressed, would not. Her scrawling would detail the extent of their loss.

  Or gain.

  Udvah’s [Dao of Sanctuary] offered a silent walk.

  The Schorly Head and her senior, abreast with conversation held for the task that would soon come. That had come at Udvah’s gentle beckoning, a curled palm, and a smile that hid portentous things.

  Fu crested the divine fingertip one pace before Pinxui, for this pce and time demanded fitting propriety.

  Both bowed at equal height.

  “Junior of my junior, Wen Pinxui. The final [Seasons],” Bingbai instructed.

  An eye spread upon her palm, abze. With trepidation, Pinxui set her [Consteltion Seed] upon his brow. The [Eyes of Supreme Rekindling]: her treasure of memory, and a [Core Formation Boon] that granted the transmission of all she had glimpsed to others.

  Bingbai was stern in acceptance. Stoic as one or three or five [Seasons] were engraved in his consciousness, whatever she had yet to impart. Not an eyelid flickered, nor a hair bristled upon his cobalt length of beard.

  Once complete, sharp was Pinxui’s retreat into kowtow. “Exalted Master, this lowly disciple asks what further use she might be?”

  “Further. Hmm. A question of bance and scales that I must put to my vice-leader. Depart, Wen Pinxui.”

  A tone reserved for fools and enemies of the Cloudy Serpent Sect. My smiling senior does so no more. Let us hope for swift resolution.

  The [Dao of Sanctuary] trivialised movement, winking Pinxui and her retinue of [Spirit Ants[ from sight.

  Fu did not breath as Bingbai took his measure. On the periphery, Guang roamed with the same intent of gaze. A mental weight in mountains.

  “Disciple,” said Master Bingbai. “My, how you’ve torn [Spring] asunder.”

  Shuidi’s pride swelled.

  Hands came to rest upon Fu’s shoulders. “The Jianghu crawls. Immortality prides roots and longevity, heritage and tradition. Thus its pace is gcial. You’ve imparted the horror of reaction to the Empire, and unmade it all with deft strokes. One might question, Gao Fu, if these actions are those of a ghost or a fool.”

  The realm grew colder.

  “Ever a fool, striving to rectify his mistakes,” bowed Fu.

  “Humility. Ah, how I’d forgotten. Speak on these mistakes, and we’ll see how they align.” His hand dropped from Fu, no longer the familial embrace. Bingbai then mounted the great Guang, coming to the lotus upon his shell.

  With legs crossed where he stood, Fu mirrored this. “The sanctity of your Cloud Gathering division, its aim and values. I fear your opinion on this the most, Master Ban. Duty twisted my actions, creating this subdivision known as the Wayward Winds. With a shallow replication of your ideals, I mentored the remnant initiates of the Four Corners Prefecture and widened their eyes to the mysteries held in highest regard.”

  Bingbai only stroked his beard.

  “The Empire of Abundant [Spring] proved a trove of resources to aid in their advancement, Myriad treasures were reaped from the [True Orchid Path], and in our flight between realms the host of [Consteltion Seeds] recovered number over three hundred. To hone their techniques and grant access to the [Divine Sense], each of the Wayward Winds were rewarded with their own.”

  “Three hundred. A loose count, Gao Fu,” noted Bingbai. His brow did not so much as crinkle as Fu’s [Primordial Consteltion Gate] was pced under scrutiny. “Another star brightens your consteltion. Applicable too, I would say, to sub-leader Zhu and my smiling Vajra junior.”

  “It is so, Master Ban.”

  A wave bid him to continue.

  “This [Shaving of the First Gate]. I’ve no recollection of this wonder. A trial of many scenes must have occured, no? [Sixth Under Heaven’s] decration upon the Four Corners Prefecture yielded results unguessable if the Heavens deigned to deliver a [Consteltion Seed] of such importance just as you arrived here.”

  Fu grimaced. “An auspicious meeting, senior. While following your orders to retrieve Wu Anfang, a disciple of the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s Wandering House intervened. One Cheng Rao, from whom I reaped these treasures.”

  The air grew colder yet.

  “Oh-ho. Reaped, junior?” Bingbai frowned. “Show me.”

  A ruddy, teal aura suffused Fu’s open palm as he leveraged towards his master.

  [Spectre Steals the Stars].

  All that his [Pull] encompassed tched atop Bingbai, painting five tethers across his body. Five resonating stars that marked where each of the immortal’s [Consteltion Seeds] did reside.

  They inched forward, ready to be plucked.

  Bingbai tugged twice at his beard as Fu ceased his [Art]. “So swiftly you grow into this [Demonic Art]. Of my juniors with [Hollow Ivory Splinters], who else possesses this talent?”

  “Brother Zhu maintains that the hue sullies his appearance, but he is capable. Wu Anfang is of cking [Pull] to employ it effectively.”

  A low hum rumbled from Guang, and Hushi turned as further questions were posited. The [Spirit Octopus] did not share what was said, but the impressions gave rise to much uncertainty.

  “You believe this sufficient?”

  “Among the Empire of Abundant [Spring] those with [Consteltion Seeds] are few. Marches hold greater benefit than the individual strength of its cultivators. To award a treasure is to lose an [Imperial Realm]. My belief stemmed from discovery, for others of the Clear Sky would mirror our tactics should they discover the benefit of completing the myriad [Reliquaries] within this nd.”

  Shuidi flinched as Bingbai conjured a brush with which to tend his beard. Long strokes followed, filling the silence of his contemption.

  “These Wayward Winds, this March of Serpents I’ve glimpsed from Wen Pinxui’s transmission- In the Cloudy Serpent Sect’s absence, your first act was to cim responsibility for these treasures. How bold.”

  Truth was prized by his senior.

  “No. Our first acts were as mewling babes. A floundering shoal. Only in time did we solidify around this, Master Ban. As leader to these initiates, I greatly cked. I was blind until your own tutege brought us from chaos.”

  Bingbai stalled Fu’s coming bow. “Withdraw from offerings of supplication, Gao Fu, it is neither deserved nor wanted. Oh-ho. How I’d forgotten across [Seasons] the depths of this. But- naught changes in my stalwart vice-leader. These words do me peerless honor, and were you a man of brittle pride I might vish compliments upon you. You’ve no need, disciple.”

  “Master?”

  The brush vanished, and in its pce was a proffered hand. Bingbai, suddenly before him. “Present your [Ink], cherished disciple.” Needles flew forth as Fu acquiesced, peeling bare the marks upon his arm.

  “[One Hundred Rhythms of the Golden Needle].”

  So named, his needles flew. A cultivator of swift [Might], the deftness and speed of his golden instruments prickled Fu into humility.

  Hubris. To think we might near a fraction of his power. These needles fly unseen.

  Bingbai’s sagacity within the [Cloud Ghost Arts] delivered simir, humbling strokes as this orchestra affected unnoticeable change about them.

  Yet all he felt were myriad pricks.

  “Draw forth your greatest misery,” he said.

  The [Ink] coalesced.

  [Contribution Points]

  [Total]

  [0]

  [Debt]

  [Lifelong]

  [7,020]

  Then, simply:

  [Contribution Points]

  [Total]

  [0]

  What-

  Nausea spooled into Fu’s gut. The world spun and rocked. He curled his fingers, for these were heavy things, steadied only by Hushi’s extended arms and a diminutive pincer set atop his knuckle.

  “Master-”

  “A mock disciple. One lower than Trial-takers, of jian-waxers and pallbearers. Long past have you shed this, my fledgling serpent. Long past have you transformed without my guidance, for a single note might amount to my lessons where your [Seasons] alone are chapters. Still you bring me honor.”

  The world righted. Hushi’s arm swept a dewy, whiskered cheek.

  “Gao Fu, rise. Cim the scales you’ve yet to acknowledge. Cast aside the fear of sham-cd hanfu and discovery. Rise not as a disciple of mock, trial or outer privilege, but as more. A personal disciple, should you wish it.”

  Fu breathed deep, and mist exhaled without thought. “An honor I readily accept, Master. This service-”

  Guang rumbled his mental voice. “Quiet, disciple. Further gratitude diminishes this moment.”

  “Oh-ho. Guang feels strongly to lend his words, no?” smiled Bingbai. “As do I. Before talk of [Splinters], this dalliance with [Dances Upon an Ivory Sea] and all the truths my disciple is owed, we’ll repay our absence with triumph.”

  Pride welled in Shuidi, of a nostalgic sort.

  Our Master, returned. A fitting day for a ghost’s celebration.

  Duty had Fu speak. “As disciple, Master, might I ask for a single boon?”

  “Hmm,” mused Bingbai, cycling [Celestial Q about his fingertips. “A single boon? Oh-ho. You underestimate your position, Gao Fu. Ask anything.”

  “Gratitude. But all I would ask is for the fate of these Wayward Winds.” Bingbai chuckled. “As ephemeral as your [Dao], disciple. Rowdy. I’ve cause to call you it, for this concentration of strength and Heaven’s mysteries is an affront. A crime to secrecy. If their loyalty is secured, [Of Perennial Shade] may have them scatter. But judgement will come beyond these turbulent times of [Spring]. Does this ease your heart?”

  “It does,” nodded Fu, speaking true.

  “Pleasing,” returned a smile. “Oh, and Gao Fu, do inform disciple Zhu that he shares your new appointment. Such a ck of ceremony should please him, no?”

  Fu was left alone atop the peak.

  The ground welcomed his knees as he succumbed to unfaltering joy.

  “Free,” he said.

  “Free,” he ughed.

  His partners rejoiced.

  “Our family, Hushi, Shuidi. The future holds no certainty, but we have gifted no less than they deserve. An untethering. An unlittered horizon,” came his ugh, only dimming as he felt unparalleled heat upon his chest. “All that remains is to become the wind that propels where they choose.”

  An old friend rose.

  The [Three Eyed Spying Array], fueled by his joy.

  Then he shared a whisper to Udvah’s starlit skies. “This disciple offers ten thousand gratitudes, worthless as they might be. A ghost gives his thanks, cherishing the opportunity granted. Gratitude, venerable [Gleeful Viper], for this world they might tread.”