The Primordial Qi was no plaything, to be thrown and moulded as a child might sand.

  And the Twelve Divine Beasts, in all of their glory, had forgotten this.

  Qi was fickle, and temperamental, a gift from the Heavens themselves. To be spread so thin, and to be twisted thus: ill favor only followed.

  The impartment of Seasons, and its Tyranny, devolved further.

  No longer could any Beast, nor now, Man nor Demon, touch upon the full spectrum of its gifts, not as they had before.

  Limits were imposed on each for their blasphemous acts, splitting Mind from Body, or Soul, or Harmony, denying the hold on each that in the past, might have readily come.

  But the Heaven’s wroth was not sated, and so came the final curse.

  A stain of Ink to mark the transgressors who dared tread the path towards them.

  - Excerpt from “The Twelve Great Gifts,” by an Unknown Daoist

  A suffocating air, separate from the pressure the statues had exuded, had settled across the [Reliquary]. Fu knew nothing of what he might say to lift this, and so the pair had only gathered what treasures they might, and proceeded in the direction the captive mortals had fled.

  Marching followed, with no militant air. Just roughened feet, padding, time after time, long after they had passed an obscured alcove that led deeper inwards. It seemed that a final chamber remained in this place, as did a final pedestal.

  Mei’s voice cracked upon entry, yet escaped and simmered before any words could come.

  “It is unlike the others,” Fu said, stalled on the threshold to this newfound, domed room. “Qi does not buzz around it to form the same barrier as before. I see no trace of the captives either. A way out must exist beyond here.”

  “Senior… senior is most astute,” she returned. More fascination was held within her hands, it seemed, as her gaze barely shifted from this focus. With care, the [Spirit Lizard] crooned, nestled affectionately beneath her chin.

  To Fu, she appeared lost in her own skin. Unfamiliar.

  With the brigands gone we might be safe to rest here. Though to stay might extend what ails her.

  His own wounds stung profusely, yet to be tended, and this was not unknown to him. Whatever higher limits that his [Body Cultivation] had rewarded held the blood-loss at bay, in minor fashion, and the fastened bandage he had fixed from his enemies’ robes aided in this.

  “Let us rest and recover our strength. This trail takes much from…” Mei’s attention skewed towards fanaticism, changing her features like a passing tide. Her pupils shuddered, the disbelief there having drawn Fu’s suggestion short. “Mei, why do you look at me as you do? Is it so foolish to tend to our wounds?”

  “How do you do this, senior?” she blurted. “Forgive my disrespect, but I must know. What instils such calm? In your breath. Your steps, and eyes? Blood runs from a wound deep enough to cripple one arm, and you claimed a life much as… as I did. How, senior?”

  In place of words, Fu drew her to sit as he did the same, tapping his douli so that Hushi might join them. “Once, there was a man who was disturbed to look upon his shadow, and displeased to see his footsteps as they fell behind him,” he started, offering the same tone as when he told tales to his children. “So, he strove to remove them both.”

  Contrary to his expectations, Mei’s attention was rapt.

  Ah, I had feared she may find this childish.

  “At first, he ran, hoping to outpace his shadow. Yet it followed in every pace, leaving more footsteps behind. He was a prideful man, despite his fears, and knew that if only he moved faster he might finally be rid of both. For years he moved, and never did he stop, while his pursuers continued the chase. Further, did his unhappiness grow, until finally he spied the shade of a great plum blossom, and thought to take rest in its shade. His brilliance struck then, knowing that no shadow could follow him there, blocked by something greater and so much larger than he. And so towards this, he went.”

  A mirthful pulse travelled along Fu’s bond with Hushi, showing his delight. Several tentacles fell to playfully tap his face, spurring him to continue.

  “This man reached his goals?” queried Mei.

  Fu allowed himself a rare chuckle, for his Feng had asked the same question upon hearing this tale. “No, Mei, the man died. Exhausted from his travels.”

  The following silence was much different from minutes ago, and saw his junior slip into a pensive stare. “Senior’s wisdom is…”

  “My Mei first told me this tale. She said that a fisherman is rare in thought, as theirs do not go to footsteps, and they enter shade only when it comes to them. For while many bass may languish in darkened reeds, to chase them would neglect all else that swims by.”

  Caked in filth as they were, Mei’s hands shot to her stomach. Not in a show of displeasure, or hunger as Fu initially mused, but at a faint stirring of Qi.

  One that edged upon his senses.

  “I thank senior for his wisdom,” she said. “I shall endeavour to try only for the fish that pass by my boat.”

  Fu nodded at that, and attention returned to his arm.

  One [Spirit Core] of his own affinity remained in the pouch, a fresher addition claimed from a [Spirit Quail], having long since consumed the wolves’.

  He studied the marble, torn between uses. “Our brigands that guard the [Paifang] only grow in strength. Do not mistake what I say next, Mei.” Fu rotated the marble within his palm, circling his fingertips. “Beyond this [Mystic Realm] I do not desire to further chase the path of a cultivator. To take the life of another… Ah, it is nothing I wish for. However to pass by these foes will require it, no matter how heavy it makes my heart.”

  His Bond tightened then. Tentacles locked in a gentle embrace.

  Perhaps more than circumstance drew us together, Hushi. We are kindred souls, if I am to understand your feelings.

  “It saddens me to hear this, but I respect senior for his ability to cast aside that which is coveted by many. May this junior ask on their actions going forward?”

  Adopting the lotus position, Fu gestured around the [Reliquary]. He spied the pedestal’s top in full for the first time upon their entry, seeing upon it a painted jar of clay making. “For now, I will regain my strength. Beyond that I would appreciate your input. In our struggles I have lost count of the days until [Season’s] end, and I hope we might find a treasure here that would hasten our exit.”

  Beneath Mei’s chin the [Spirit Lizard] climbed, its forked tongue tasting the air. “I shall sift through these valuables, senior,” she bowed. “Entrust this to me, please, it is the least I may do while you cultivate.”

  ??

  Recent use of a [Spirit Core] to accelerate his own cultivation denied Fu the chance to do so within such a short frame of time. Thus he drew in only the ambient Qi that wafted around the subterranean [Reliquary], finding to be adequate, if shallow, in mending his wounds.

  The time he spent ensconced in his cultivation gave no indication of the passing minutes or hours, and this was only furthered by the walls around him, showing no trace of the sun’s course.

  Fu however, felt that to draw forth Heaven’s energy in this way was more time intensive, having both to focus on what Hushi drew in, and the process of healing itself.

  Glistening with a sheen of perspiration, he drew back from this place of inner focus, shuddering at the sudden cold.

  My wounds drew much of my attention, and for that I have made little progress towards the next [Meridian]. That must be tomorrow’s aim.

  Mei was busy with her own cultivation, tranquil, and cycling Qi several paces to his side. The draw felt different to his own, warm, and bright, which he supposed was fitting for one with an affinity for [Sun Qi].

  He nodded to see her calm, and set about a walk to stretch the stiffness from his limbs.

  A handful of trinkets formed a row at her front, arranged sidelong by a sword to mark that she had returned to the bloodied site.

  Fu was curious, but could hardly identify them with the same skill that a well-read member of the Azure Shoal Sect could. Thus he digressed into a practice of the [Stifling Stream Revolutions].

  It was a true labour so soon after cultivation, and the session lasted for only ten completions. The final kick of the first set had grown easier to achieve, with his difficulties now shifting to the latter portions of the third.

  Soon enough, he had set himself down on the floor, scraped raw by his recent efforts yet satisfied in his progress. So much so that he neglected what little propriety might have existed in this underground hall, stretching loudly.

  This revealed the marvel of the ceiling above.

  A scene depicted in thick strokes of ink. The lone subject, a mountain, was fashioned in the likeness of any peak in any range across the land. Characters sprawled down the centre, unreadable to Fu even with the taste of instruction Mei had delivered each day upon reading his tome, and they were finalised with a reddened mark.

  Qi vibrated within Fu’s [Dantian], growing to a steady tremble the longer he gazed.

  With no need to look away, he still felt such an act would prove impossible. It was magnetic, encapsulating both vision and desire. Ahead, his fingers reached without his order, fondling as though they might have him enter the painting itself.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “What fresh mystery is this?” he whispered, seeing now that a stark mountainside had whisked away the [Reliquary] walls.

  All faded to sky, and the tiles below surfaced as scree.

  Paces were taken by his feet, timeless in their movement, and Fu arrived at the mouth of a fathomless pool. Wider yet than he had first imagined this mountain.

  An awareness of thirst surfaced. But he gave pause, cautious. A sceptic Fu was not, yet this scene was beyond belief.

  Water, in all of his days of looking upon it, did not behave such as this.

  Some form of dye split the surface in interlocking spirals, halved in opposition, and equal in both black and white.

  A taijitu.

  Though it was also not.

  He simplified this as the surface blinking, a trick of light that both had it appear in this split form and as mundane water. Still, and tantalising to his senses.

  Hushi... Perhaps-

  He was the source of the draw, he realised, and that the yearning came from a place beyond his [Dantian]. One intangible and far.

  Hushi stole forward and matched the waters in serenity. The octopus breached the surface with a gentle arm, upon which a trim of gold and teal materialised to set the pool in motion.

  The link between Hushi and his cultivator thrummed with warmth, drawing Fu to abandon his doubt, and take his fill.

  All he saw then was the water, cupped in his palm. Nourishing a thirst like none he had even known before. His awareness followed each rivulet, and suddenly he gasped, removed once more from his surroundings.

  Now, his world became ethereal.

  Constellations more numerous than grains of sand upon the banks of his fair Thousand Shore City, glinted. Uncountable, nestled in a horizon of amber and jade, against which a lone figure stood. She swayed, this cultivator, and the rolls of fabric that trailed from her shimmering robes responded as though submerged in water.

  Fu, however, saw this was no liquid, and the scene expanded to a wider view.

  This immortal clutched at the distant nebula and took a nursery of stars in her palm, fingers curled to cradle them tighter. The moments passed with a rising, sorrowful song as accompaniment, wherein she wept.

  Her mouth parted in apology before she gently stroked the Bond beneath her, bestowing this stolen gift a vast [Spirit Whale] as it sung. A long process followed, as did the song rise in volume, quaking across the known skies with each palm of distant starlight taken.

  Force pushed Fu from the scene, and rapidly at that.

  A violet thrust wrenched him far from this pair, akin to falling. Panic quickly mounted, granted by both the fall and an intensity of burning within his soul. He felt Hushi latch to his chest, tightening, reassuring him with his presence alone as images flashed by.

  Fu was turned in this airless descent, dragged towards a series of mountains that he intrinsically knew to be different than the first.

  These were beyond him by leaps and bounds, and he could no more reach the safety these lands granted than he might demand the Heavens to slow his fall. So he plummeted, passing by each, longing for the embrace of each pool the mountains held until he was suddenly immersed in his own.

  He gasped into the [Reliquary’s] dome.

  “Senior travelled deeper into his [Epiphany] than this lowly junior,” bowed Mei.

  “I-” The room spun around Fu, and bile rose in his mouth. “You have looked upon the painting?” he asked.

  Mei dared not look up. “The [Dao Treasure] holds much potential. Forgive me, senior, if you wished to absorb its truth in full.”

  These words meant nothing to Fu, and he mustered enough will to shake his head.

  His condition worsened as a result, emptying the contents of his stomach across the floor. The sight was ghastly. He neglected the [Impurities] within, casting his thoughts far from the connection between such a thing and his cultivation.

  Instead, Fu spat, groaning to an ape-like lumber. “Mei, I need…” Another wretch ensued, and was thankfully avoided. “Air. Fresh air. Gather the treasures… please.”

  ??

  Mei was first to emerge from the ascent of stairs some time later. Light shed by her [Spirit Lizard] illuminated the blanket of cloudy night, warming Fu considerably as a subtle breeze gnawed at the sheets of perspiration on his exposed skin.

  [Resilience] fended off the worst of this surprising cold, and he mused between fatigued steps that it was likely what allowed him to move after this [Epiphany].

  The pair were out in open air, led from the [Reliquary] by a constructed tunnel that widened until naught but sky existed above.

  “Hushi,” forced Fu. “Are you well?”

  A gentle slap touched his cheek, and satisfied, he nodded.

  “If it does not trouble senior, I would suggest we stay here until morning. Foolish, that I might presume to be of use, but my [Dantian] aches, and my Qi does not respond well to the light of the moon.”

  “This experience leaves me gutted. Scraped raw. Tell me, Mei, what I know of the [Dao]...”

  Of the myriad words that birthed a vibration in his lobes, Fu was unsure why this mention surprised him so.

  Luo named me as shirtless daoist at our meeting, and his tome mentions the [Dao], even as Mei read it aloud. Why now, does it feel different?

  Mei, as was now common, extolled the virtue of patience where her supposed senior was concerned. Allowing him to sift through his questions.

  “Treat me as an infant, I am in your care.”

  Her Bond flared as if to show her excitement, and he was pleased to see that she enjoyed this role as lecturer. “A talk is better shared indoors, senior, if you will it.”

  Given the murky shadows beyond, and the forest of close-knit bamboo half a li distant, Fu thought this wise. He returned first, and subsequently slammed the bridge of his nose into a solid face of earth.

  “Senior!”

  “Ah.”

  “The [Reliquary] has vanished.”

  Fu placed his rear to the obvious wall, drifting down to sit. Again, [Resilience] played its part in protecting him.

  That any might mistake me for a cultivator is laughable.

  Hushi re-adjusted the douli so he might nestle back in, offering no further aid.

  “We have… We-” Mei swallowed her concern, and adopted the lotus position to his side. “In the texts, and in conversation, we have covered the paths of cultivation. [Body], [Mind], [Soul], and [Harmony]. A skim of the surface, and to the best of this junior’s meagre knowledge, but I hope my words allow senior to recall.”

  It took a lingering moment for Fu to realise that this had been phrased as a question, and another for him to motion for Mei to proceed.

  “[Body Cultivation] increases one’s physical qualities, and as with all Paths, this manifests in a reflection of the attached Bond. The Qi used there is of empowerment, unlike that of [Mind Cultivation], which is mainly external. Such as my own is, granting command over [Sun Qi] to shape through both [Art] and whim. The difference arises in [Spirit Cultivation], where the [Dao] are concerned. While all paths touch upon another, it is a great rarity to uncover [Dao Principles] should one follow any path but this. To my limited understanding.”

  “And these principles are of the [Dao]? I have heard such in passing, only believing it to be an insight that cultivators alone held when discussing the Way.”

  Mei made eyes at the tome upon his belt, and Fu passed it along. Turning each leaf of parchment with care, she soon arrived at a passage and neared him for instruction.

  “And who are behind the [Dao], the beasts,” he read.

  “And who might be closer to the [Dao], than the beasts.” Mei slid her nail to one side of the characters displayed, relaying notes on their position and meaning.

  “And who might be closer to the [Dao], than the beasts. For to guess at the…” Fu guessed at the next word, half-watching his junior. “Myriad [Dao], even in part, is to know some part of nature, of which they are near.”

  Mei passed along warmth in her smile. “Enveloped. As senior no doubt knows, the principles are the fragmented truths of the greater [Dao]. Laws that govern, yet also are, the concepts that make up all things. For a cultivator to access the [Dao] is to exert control over the insight you have gained into the specific.”

  The vibration in Fu’s lobes continued down his neck, strangely.

  This- Ah. The cold does this, I should be at ease.

  He had feared some Heavenly reprisal due to their discussion of this subject, but this swiftly fell as he connected a growing chill to the passing breeze. Sleeveless, he merely tucked himself close.

  Confusion clearly haunted his face, for Mei extended a finger. Her own expression changed, a brow furrowing with unseen effort.

  This deepened Fu’s confusion until a flurry of glowing red specks appeared in the air three paces from her fingertip. A mere flash that lasted but the length of a dozen heartbeats, its ending marked as what he thought were scraps of burnt parchment gently swayed to the ground.

  “That is not [Sun Qi], the feeling is much different,” he noted. “When first we met, the [Spirit Beetle] and its cultivator held a similar power. Not small flames such as this, but something foul and malignant.”

  Ahead, the glowing specks faded, and further warmth drained from the surroundings. An odd occurrence, given how little they had provided in the first place.

  “Few in the Azure Shoal Sect held insight into the [Dao]. Fewer yet inscribed records to share their understanding. My [Epiphany] granted me a taste of the [Dao of Embers], though as with all things I am lacking. Another cultivator could use this to greater effect, conjuring a blaze that might consume an entire forest.”

  “With ember alone?”

  Mei nodded, returning his tome. “A possibility, yes.” This reply shuddered in delivery, showing how the rising cold moved to grasp his junior.

  Despite the warmth granted in her Bond’s fiery glow.

  “I do not know what I would use such a force for. Surely the Heavens would frown was I to use my [Dao of Embers] to stew fish, for what other need for flames do I have?” Out of propriety he had not moved closer to Mei’s warmth, never wishing her to presume upon his behaviour.

  Thus he merely rubbed at his muscles, hoping to grant some heat through friction as he contemplated a great many things.

  This change is unlike [Summer]. Out of [Season] in its bite.

  “Senior also possesses the [Dao of Embers]?”

  Her comment drew his attention away from an impending worry. “Did we not gaze upon the same [Dao Treasure]?”

  “The insight granted differs between Bonds. A [Dao Principle] is that which is partially embodied by each [Spirit Beast]. They are natural creatures, and as such, live, naturally. Who better to share wisdom of the [Dao of Tides] than a fish, or the [Dao of Weight] than a mole that has never known anything but the pressure of the ground above? No others are closer to the [Dao] than they. Forgive me, senior, as I know you to be studious, but does the [Ink] not inform you otherwise?”

  Such flattery hinders more than helps.

  At her suggestion, Fu commanded the teal smoke to unfurl before his vision. Where a new heading awaited his inspection.

  “My [Dao] is [Reach],” he said, simply. “It grants me [Insight], and [Control].” Secondarily, Fu brought up the new changes.

  Any further discussion was swept aside moments into their mutual rumination.

  Qi, of a sort, and the first of its kind that Fu had experienced, washed across the [Mystic Realm] in a sudden wave. In his time he had witnessed this spectacle come and go. The sum of such viewings reached well above hundred given his age of over thirty moons.

  To experience the change of [Season] as a cultivator was quite different.

  Gloom and shadow hid much, yet the bamboo forest’s canopy shrivelled from green to a rich sunset red, plain to see. The cold intensified to plume the pairs’ breath before them, and the Qi, it…

  Well, Fu could not say what exact change it underwent.

  Only that now, with this [Season] ended, and his deadline over, he cared so very little about how it choked and stifled his senses.

  Less so, as he pelted towards the line of autumnal bamboo with a view to approach the [Paifang].