Myriad generations passed, and the land once again saw change. Yet no force of creation stemmed from this, most awesome of spectacles.

  The Divine Spirit Beasts, cursed now by Heaven, oppressed now by Demons, and spited now by Humanity who believed themselves better.

  Transcended.

  To Realms beyond even immortal ken, leaving our lands bereft of their splendour, and lacking in miracles.

  Save for their Vestiges.

  The fragments of their Soul, their Power, and their Authority.

  Those few, countable Spirit Beasts, that in time, might grow to rival even the Heavens themselves.

  - Excerpt from the closing passage of “The Twelve Great Gifts,” by an Unknown Daoist

  Memories of these meadows were not so distant to Fu, nor was the landscape so varied that the pair could not discern where about the [Paifang] stood. “Over… the crest,” he struggled, having his shoulder-mounted Bond gesture in place of an unresponsive arm.

  Shock at the sight of clashing forces, broaching near a hundred strong, had Mei slow her pace. There were intermittent flashes of Qi as effects were brought to bear, from both the side of the brigands and this new, mysterious force.

  Fighting consumed the small rise of the meadows, though the strain Fu placed on his neck to spy this soon grew too much.

  “Yongwu Long!” they chanted.

  “Yongwu Long,” whispered Mei.

  There was a roar of violet challenge from their side, cutting through the chorus of this name, and Fu heard a body approaching.

  “Trash such as you dares ruin our bounty?” it cried, male and decidedly closer with every heartbeat.

  Before Fu knew it he was upon the ground, sagged to his knees at Mei’s sudden movement. She surged by him, scores of fabric trailing from her ripped hanfu, and began combat with the man in earnest. Not under the [Tyranny] of [Autumn], and kissed by the sun’s cool warmth, she blew out a jet of [Sun Qi] to scorch the man dry.

  Simple, and devastating, which led her to labour forward with Fu once more.

  Bodies, supposedly, fell around them, swallowed by the sea of violet petals, and their stops became more frequent.

  “Senior, I was blinded to the number of brigands, and to the number of these warriors. Cultivators, all. Forgive my inability, but this junior has trapped us between the dragon’s maw and the tiger’s grip.”

  They had stopped in the midst of this alarming bout, and Mei fell to take Fu upon her knees in a limp cradle. As though he were an infant in need of scolding.

  With his eyes pried open only through resolve, Fu absorbed the sounds of battle, denying the coming dread it conjured. He felt pitiful, and the sight of him was surely shameful, but his family’s salvation still hung upon his belt.

  “Take… cores. Take the… cores. Mei. I am too… I will not make it.”

  He became aware of moisture upon his neck, dropping intermittently to follow the groove of his spine.

  “Hushi,” Mei spoke softly. “Will you listen to my plea?”

  Clutched upon his broken arm, the octopus twitched.

  “This lowly junior begs you. Travel with me, source some treasure of [Air Qi], and I will help you claim it. Senior Fu may perish if we do not.” Her words welcomed a darkness to him, fading distant.

  “Mei… Cores,” he warned but a moment later, grasping at lucidity.

  A final sleep called for him, beg… Fu’s tongue ground against soil, and a sudden gasp showed he was speaking to an embrace of soggy earth. Without recollection of his movement, his worry grew. Budging only an inch of his working arm, Fu rolled upon his back to see a screen of violet petals.

  Unconsciousness had gripped him, and though the battle raged he had no measure of time.

  Thus he dug deep into his concentration, casting aside all that was not his bond with Hushi, and expanded his senses. Vague vibrations returned, both in link and [Dantian], telling of the octopus’ great distance.

  All around a hidden display of Qi was bursting. Myriad types, in myriad forms, with the nearest crashing waves of compressed air across the meadows. Fu winced, and his cover was torn free to leave only headless stalks in its wake.

  “Hu… shi…” he wheezed. “Hu…”

  Thunder crashed, and lightning forked through the skies above to mark the Heaven’s displeasure.

  These drowned out his pathetic cries for help. As did the gentle patter of rain fall upon him, helpless as he was to avoid it. Another crash of thunder came, closer, and the true downpour descended to muddy his soon-to-be grave.

  Then, splashing footsteps ended by his head.

  It brought a body down atop him through slickness of ground and the obstacle that was Fu.

  He gasped out at the impact, in concert with this cultivator’s cry of outrage. Then he was grabbed, and hoisted, meeting a set of hateful eyes. Crazed pupils of a rich, hazel tone, flocking once to his bloodied robes, and then to the fisherman’s stupored gaze.

  “The fisherman.”

  The man slammed Fu into the ground, yet he had no air within his lungs to rush out, though little did this stop the second, nor the third. He was raised by his throat, nails scoring into his flesh, and slapped repeatedly.

  “My wife was crippled by you. Her [Spirit Beetle] crushed, and her [Spirit] broken as a result! Have no doubt,” he spat. “Once I return through the [Paifang] I shall pay this back, tenfold.”

  Knuckles cracked into Fu’s ribs, and he coughed up blood as the series continued.

  H… H… H…

  A creature of lime hue approached from the brigand’s shoulder, floating. Experience had it recognized immediately, even as the [Spirit Fish], the balloonfish of spotted and rounded form, materialised a winding helix of [Air Qi] above itself.

  Fu was dropped to the ground, mounted to be pinned by his foe while his Bond neared, having the construct of Qi spin.

  Half… Cloud…

  Lightning struck closer, within the li, and in this split moment Fu scraped at all he could. Internally.

  With nothing to give but his flesh, his [Art] still proved greedy. A belch of blood and bile spilled from his mouth, a promise of the damage that now screamed through his [Channels].

  Untested, Fu’s fading life demanded his [Half Cloud Step] to infuse him, and tainted Qi propelled a single knee upwards.

  The bone there shamelessly smashed into the brigand’s gaowan with enough force to shatter a dragon’s pride. His foe cried in equal parts fury and whimper, tumbling into the path of his Bond’s spiral Qi, goring himself clean through the throat to rupture further.

  And still this [Spirit Fish] continued, shocked for the remaining seconds of its life before turning, and withering.

  Removing the small shelter of its body as it faded, allowing a crimson tide to wash over the deathly Fu.

  Uselessly bathing his unmoving, breathless form.

  ??

  Feet trudged through the muck. Slops upon them. Rain hammering. A pressure of Qi.

  All by bloodied ears.

  Some frightful gale howled through the gathered masses, but the trudge continued in the face of it.

  There was this heat within the walker’s veins, holding no warmth. He could see them in his red-soaked vision, separate from the succulent forms he lusted after. Ethereal shapes of crimson that called to him so.

  And Fu, with rejuvenated step, milled through their centre. Either brigand or other, he could not tell.

  Yet, a wrongness twisted in his gut as he left them be, as all sensations screamed for him to close in, to drain more drops of nourishing blood. This act betrayed his [Dantian], and his [Mind], who, in tandem, demanded he claim the force of these undeserving fleshbags.

  But his [Spirit] spoke different, for it was a reasonable one, much like the fisherman himself.

  His presence of mind grew over the course of several more steps, guided by the image of the flickering [Paifang] beyond a further mass of combatants. These too, showed as crimson stains, though the sensation was clearing.

  “My children,” he roared, grimacing at the foreign heat within his body. “Move aside!”

  This cry drew attention to him, and to his side a brigand rushed, accompanied by the screech of a distant avian. [Air Qi] squirmed in his heated veins to warn him of this, reacting with an untold accuracy, and Fu drove out with a fist.

  His length of chain was wound tight, gauntleted around his arm to break some section of his pursuer’s face upon connection.

  He knew little of how it had happened, and in truth, Fu knew little of where he was.

  Need hollowed out his other emotions and thoughts, and this flashing gateway in the distance drew him more than a foreign lust for the fresh spray of blood that jettisoned from this…

  Brigand? This man is a… brigand. Am I one to gift… violence?

  Fu shook his head, stumbling. The faces of his children rose as spectres in his mind. Feng. Yuqi. Yuling. All came in turn to hover, and to grant the urgency he needed to proceed.

  Purifying his mind, and dispelling whatever madness had come upon him.

  Hushi. Mei. I feel them approach.

  In response to a surfacing tug in his link, he pivoted through the slush.

  None here could be called friend, not truly, but the path he need tread to cut through the remaining dozens. It would embroil him in a sea of potential foes.

  A curse fled his lips as he set forth.

  After stealing only ten paces, thunder crashed above, causing him to start.

  Madness.. My life becomes a fable, where useless death and blood are doled like morning rice.

  Heads rolled around him, he rounded corpses, wove through tatters of broken [Spirit Beasts] upon the wind, and slipped more times than he could count.

  Overwhelmed by this sight, disoriented, he-

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  A body slammed into his shoulder to drive him off balance.

  Another crashed backwards, falling dead by his feet.

  Thunder crashed again.

  An elbow drove into the small of his back.

  Hail surfaced to his side, where [Ice Qi] projected a burst of frozen shrapnel to blast his strained rise to stand.

  One hand gripped at his shoulder, and in reaction, he lashed out.

  Fu found too late that Mei’s face had appeared at the end of his knuckles.

  Rain-coated tentacles corded around his arm at the final moment, prying his momentum to the side so this blow only tore flesh from Mei’s cheek. The head of his chain was worn, and irregular dents complimented by his [Might] struck to horrifying effect.

  His junior screeched out, clutching at the loose welt of skin.

  “Mei!” called Fu, battling the thunder. “Forgive me, your-”

  Separating a moment after, Mei had drawn him into an embrace. “Senior, your appearance! You stand, yet…”

  “Peace,” he said. “The [Paifang] awaits.”

  They drove on with little fanfare, with Fu dismissing her extension of aid. Whatever had partially restored his body sustained him, and had staunched his bleeding enough that he might stand and move.

  Despite the plaguing agony of which he was now accustomed.

  ??

  [Sun Qi] flayed the fourth brigand’s face on their path to the [Paifang], leaving Mei breathless from the emptying of her [Dantian]. Fu fared no better, diminished in mere minutes of travel that saw the pair crawl towards the boundary of combat.

  Here, more cultivators clashed, and the percussive meeting of their Qi wracked the air itself with waves of pressure.

  “Yongwu Long, senior.”

  Scraping himself from the ground, Fu regarded a central figure infused with a trail of golden light. More wisps danced upon his lengthened blade, streaming through the brigands as he struck each down with masterful strokes.

  “They block the way home,” he replied.

  Mei nodded at this, and they crawled closer. “This name shocks me, senior. To see his face, more so.”

  “A cultivator from the Azure Shoal Sect… No.” This [Mystic Realm] was of the [Mortal Grade], preventing entry to those with even a toe on the path to defying the Heavens. “Weariness fogs my mind. You know of him, Mei? He fares well.”

  Indeed, the cultivator had beaten back a small horde, now facing only one. A broad man, qiang braced before him, with a coiled serpent around the length. Further steps loudened their conversation, prompting Fu to lower.

  With queer timing, Hushi quivered, coming to sling around his partner’s neck.

  Fear? Or nerves?

  Before he could address his Bond, Mei gave her reply. “A trial disciple of the Azure Shoal Sect, and an outcast even among them, senior. He was a point of ridicule for the arrogant masters, earning the ire of even those belonging to the Outer Sect. Now… he has changed much in the [Mystic Realm]. Becoming a cultivator in full.”

  Blood trailed from the welt upon his junior’s cheek, and Fu licked his lips. Foreign urges boiled his blood. “Stand clear of me, Mei.”

  Without her usual questioning, she did so.

  “I feel violence clouding my better judgement.”

  Mei showed neither reverence or intent to speak, and this worried Fu to no end.

  “Speak, Mei, if you know of this.”

  “[Demonic Urges] brought on by consumption of a cultivator’s blood.”

  An anger surged in his chest, wrestling for control of his fists. With long, measured breaths, he quieted such restless hands. “Please,” he asked. “Explain in few words.”

  “Senior must know that it grants great strength, temporarily, and that only to continue down this path of [Demons] will force a change.” Seeing his blank stare, Mei paused for but a single heartbeat. “Birth is not the only way that [True Demons] are produced. I plead that senior does not fret, and that he is mindful of the diminishing time with his current ability.”

  More chaos. I would be done with this.

  Uncloaking from the meadows, Fu gripped Mei to her feet. “My cup is overflowing, and I can take no further instruction.” He then led her at a run towards the [Paifang], no more than two hundred paces distant.

  They skirted the edge of Long’s combat, grateful for his efforts in removing all that stood in their way.

  One hundred paces placed this to their rear, granting both a muddied view of the cultivator’s back, and the golden [Spirit Carp] that blazed in the air around him.

  Hushi strained away from the combat, ducking into the douli despite the distance between them. An orange glow through the lashing rain showed Mei’s [Spirit Lizard] act in similar fashion, burying itself in her collar.

  Perhaps with this shared trepidation from their respective Bonds, neither sensed the figure in the meadow ahead. Perhaps it was the rain. Or the injury. Or the unbearable weight of it all, shedding with each step stolen towards the [Paifang].

  But Mei clattered, upending upon collision with a rising cultivator.

  A man clad in shadow, immersed in a Qi-laden cloak, and one that growled at their sudden appearance.

  Fu lashed out with his chain, and the brigand stepped from its path with divine ease.

  The black peeled from around him to reveal more of his features, and that of the shadow-wrapped [Spirit Bird] upon his back. A menacing, ugly thing, that Fu held a brief and unkind history with.

  For all this appearance, the brigand stole back with a grunt. “Be gone. Scurry. Our business concerns only the fool Yongwu.”

  “Senior!” cried Mei, rudderless in its meaning.

  Anger showed this man in flashes of red, from brutish nose to the glint of his jian.

  The chain arrived back with a tug, though the wait for its return had granted Fu his decision. “Move first, brigand.”

  And the man did. [Dark Qi] masked him from sight, and he stole off without further word towards the clash.

  “He means to kill Long,” came his junior’s voice, full of plea.

  Deaf to these words, Fu had already gripped her and urged towards the [Paifang].

  It was a harder march that had brought them to its base, standing before the glittering light of the gateway.

  Contesting with the frequent, almost protesting looks back done by Mei, Fu’s manner had become stern. The arm he had clutched of hers was no doubt bruised, shamefully, yet no more so than allowing Yongwu’s foe to leave.

  “It is foolish to stand here,” said Fu, approaching the screen of energy. A power thrumming at the edge of fingertips.

  Slick, Mei’s face was torn. Her eyes, reddened. “Senior, please. Punish this junior how you see fit for such a suggestion. But, please, let us return for Long.” She dropped in the muck, pressing her head to the filth to come up tarnished. “To let this pass is unjust!”

  “To allow my family to die is unjust. Yongwu Long is capable, do not fret over him. Mei, we must go before this chaos consumes us both.”

  Lightning flashed behind the [Paifang], though he did not need its light to see her pain.

  Distress, and hesitation.

  Transfixed with this sight, Fu found himself leering.

  He became aware of his face’s rigidity, of how his eyes strained open, widened and crazed. Dawning thoughts simmered the heat in his veins, and he was confused, for he had thought it subsided, or at least shallow.

  A red mist within my blood. How foolish have I been?

  “Mei,” he spoke, softly now, whereas all that had met her ears before was harsh. “Forgive this fool. My mind is not my own, and I have acted shamelessly.”

  His junior brushed tears from her face, beneath the rainfall.

  “This Long, he is precious to you. A blind man may see this. Go now, greet my family beyond the [Paifang], and we will all share in the tale of this companion around a spit of salmon and bream.”

  “Senior? I will come-”

  “Those who cannot choose their next step will forever stay on one leg,” he urged, sharing a smile. “Please, Mei, as my junior.”

  Before him, she straightened her robes. Sodden and useless. And bowed. “I will wait beyond, senior, unmoving. That you might share the first look of Yuqi, Yuling or Feng.”

  Fu then dashed off, the comment fading swiftly beneath rain and storm.

  If any are to see them first, I would have it be her. She might fill the role of sister well, if she is willing.

  He drove his mind to focus, and his [Senses] to locate the shrouded brigand.

  The pelting rain drowned his hearing, and the blur before his eyes was clarified only by Long’s golden carp and the wisps birthed by traded blows.

  Despite doubt at distancing himself from his family, Fu was confident in his aid. “Hushi, I have need of you. Taste the air, and find this hidden beast. His target is dear to Mei.”

  Though his Bond trembled with uncertainty, he proved valiant. The midden of his douli blew back as he emerged, tenuously gripped by the reed beneath Fu’s neck.

  Arms snaked the air, and shortly, Hushi pressed a direction through their bond.

  A severed circle of muddied petals served as the cultivators’ arena, and Fu severed the distance to it in a half minute.

  Yongwu Long held his blade at the kneeling brigand’s throat, exchanging words with the clearly beaten foe. Segments of his conversation came to Fu between mounting cracks of thunder, but they were meaningless to him.

  The brigand barked out an insult, fumbling as he tried to rise up his moistened spear.

  Lightning struck again, illuminating the arena. A silhouette made itself known to Fu then, twenty paces off, shrouded in its approach behind Long.

  Heaven’s wrath caught the raised jian, clutched in two hands with a view to stick its target between the shoulderblades.

  “Long! Long!” Fu bellowed, only for his efforts to be swallowed by wind. With unsure grip and the downpour upon his metal, he unspooled the chain.

  I may strike Long, but I must act!

  Hope drove the chain in a perilously wide arc, cast to swing from his right. Several links slipped lower in his palm, drawing panic as he lashed it towards the brigands.

  [Dark Qi] spilled from the shrouded cultivator, revealing his form in totality, and Fu caught the [Spirit Bird] soar upwards to take flight.

  Long turned the very moment this happened, and the very moment that the [Dao of Reach] suffused Fu’s chain with power. Mental energy evaporated from Fu’s mind, harnessed to elongate his weapon in its arc.

  The strain on his body threatened to break him, and his [Demonic Urge] rose, craving this moment of weakness.

  But Fu grimaced, seeing a flash of two rapid movements.

  An unknown, golden [Dao] pushed some tremendous aura from Long’s body, and his blade carved a gruesome channel from the ambusher’s stomach to his neck.

  Fonting blood.

  But the first cultivator's qiang blared with unknown Qi.

  Fu roared his defiance, and drew his ravelling chain taught as it violently ensnared the man’s legs. Some careless insult escaped from his foe’s mouth, likewise swallowed by the gale a half breath before Long spilled his throat.

  Fragmented wisps of the man’s [Spirit Serpent] blew distant in the coming heartbeats. Near silent things that showed an end to this fray.

  Dispelling his [Dao] from the corpse, Fu wavered. “It… it is done. Mei can…” Though it was unusual to him, he spat upon the ground.

  When I return, I shall cast this infernal weapon aside. My place is upon the waters, not the battlefield.

  Long followed the retracting chain back to its owner, but remained where he was. As greeting, or as gratitude, he bowed low. As did his [Spirit Carp] before circling the man.

  Fu this to his back, silent as Hushi reassuringly slapped his cheek,and silent until the [Paifang’s] glow spilled over him. Letting loose a sigh, he clutched at his eyes and took a long, painful moment.

  “They should never see us sad, Hushi. My family. Our family. They are treasures, as your own were. It… you may think this strange, for they are no infants. But treasure should not be sullied by worry.” Hushi patted his cheek, swatting aside the hand over Fu’s eyes.

  Qi swaddled them as they crossed the threshold, and it was unique.

  Unsuitable for the numbness that touched his soul. But this granted peace, and time, wherein he steeled himself, pressing forth a smile.

  An embrace by each. I long for it. My hopes that they are unharmed… by the Heavens, let it be so.

  While it was doubtful to imagine that his family would greet his very first step, the thought granted comfort and he allowed the fantasy to persist.

  As such, he smiled upon emerging into a frigid, near [Winter] morning.

  Snow had morphed the ruins of Thousand Shore City into a palace of white, and had breath plume where the cultivators of the Cloudy Serpent Sect broke from formation to address his arrival.

  “[Spirit Core]”, growled the first of hundreds, driving Fu to his knees.

  Bold, Fu remained unphased in the face of a suddenly arriving [Spirit Serpent]. One that now wound noose around him with its imposing body.

  “I have a debt of many, and the [Spirit Cores] to settle it. They are within my pouch.”

  The cultivator snorted, and the [Spirit Serpent] drew tighter. Regardless of this, the pouch’s contents were taken by the handful to be inspected. “[Spirit Herbs], [Mortal Grade] treasures,” he listed, rifling through Fu’s collection. “Ah, [Spirit Cores]. You are not as shameless a liar as most then.”

  “No.”

  “Do not forget yourself, scum. A [Mystic Realm] does not exclude you from propriety!” The cultivator made to thrash Fu with the back of his palm, yet did not deliver.

  “No, senior,” came Fu’s reply.

  “Your debt is settled. Proceed, and be processed… disciple.” But then he eyed Fu with a lingering curiosity, and spoke once more. “Five [Spirit Cores]. Nothing inspired, but greater than the base mortals that have returned thus far. For this, I will warn you. My own generosity is fabled, but you will find others possess little time for wasting their patience. Act well.”

  A kind soul?

  Fu was allowed to stand, and a female cultivator led him away from the [Paifang], her disdain evident through a scowl. Her duties in escorting were delivered poorly, waylaid by a stop no more than ten paces down the path. Here, she was handed a recently polished qiang, frowning further at the crimson splatters upon its head. Her mood was shared by the slender [Spirit Serpent] around her wrist.

  “Liar’s blood,” she spat. “Shameless filth does not have the decency to wash itself free.” With a turn of the palm she barely gestured to what lay muddied upon the ground, near overcome with disgust.

  The stain of a young woman's corpse. One so intimite, so familiar, that a sea of bile rose in Fu's mouth to seep from each corner.

  Already did the predatory cultivator there pick clean this insignifcant carcass, rifling through pockets, fold and pouch - grunting in displeasure to find naught a bauble, [Spirit Herb] nor lesser treasure within.

  Certainly no [Spirit Core], for Mei had entrusted all her gains to him.

  These Heavens were cruel indeed to allow her first across the [Paifang], first to be welcomed by the Cloudy Serpent Sect, and first to be found wonting in the face of their simple demands.

  Fu did not move on as his escort did.

  Instead, he was shoved, prompting the remaining [Spirit Cores] in his pouch to rattle around a freer space.

  Deafening to him.

  Distant, for Mei.

  Unnoticed.

  Unnecessary.

  For what use were ears, when her head had no body to rest upon?