Fatherly Asura Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Nine - God of a Lonely Sky

Could one lie to the [Boundless Dao] then this too would beco an attribute for their na’s formation.

It has been asked by foolish juniors what else might factor.

To that, I say, all.

One’s sins cannot be hidden from Heaven.

One’s accomplishnts.

One’s [Prowess] cannot, their [Arts], their talents.

Certainly not one’s [Dao].

What few prideful souls glean is the abundance of truth within one’s na, as the [Boundless Dao] know not either the lens of cruelty or kindness.

Only one’s nature, unmuddied.

“Registered Nas of the Clear Sky,” an excerpt.

The shrine was both as he suspected, and not.

To what elent did one ascribe a sconce? That of [Fire Qi] might be the mortal’s guess, or that of patterned clay could evoke [Earth Qi], and loosely [Water Qi]. These were passing thoughts within the stream of Fu’s mind, for all he had co across thus far was of materiality.

Physical.

Having tread a western sky, he found the [Spiritual].

First to note amongst a forest of clouds were the intersecting winds- that which any of [Air Qi] and on the sa pilgrimage would note.

Here the scones were as such.

Wind.

A tempest in place of clay, condensed. One of this God’s miracles, or more ominously, the supplicating state that Heaven itself remained beholden to in his absence.

Fu walked the approach between immodest columns, each a compression of raging storms that did not escape their shape. On he went, ascending stairs of this ilk to pass beneath arches of the very sa, walk a garden of lancholic rainclouds in the form of common herbs and finally broach the final structure.

An emptied throne.

“The pressure here is that of Emperors, Matriarchs and more,” whispered Fu. “We cannot remain here long.”

Shuidi proved as cowed as these supplicating winds. “This Gao Shuidi senses an on in the constructs. [Intent] trapped within the foundations of each. As if the chosen ‘Ji Hakdo’ gave an order that is yet to break.”

Drawing from Hua’s repertoire, Fu humd. “Did the dragon not say the wind had bowed? I feel it here, and yet they are still a danger.”

All that raged in permanent form about them exuded a travesty of [Spiritual] pressure, as though to misstep would loose their eternal vengeance upon them. Even proximity had Fu’s [Spirit] quiver as if preparing to be consud.

These were no base gales. No re violent squalls.

They held sothing ancient and primordial within.

And Ji Hakdo had subjugated them all.

“Where might this [Inheritance] begin?” he pondered aloud. “Grandmother shared only its location.”

Hushi was more purely of wind than Shuidi’s [Air] and [Water Qi], spectral as their [Affinity] had beco. His impressions were of curiosity, stating that a great difficulty lay before them given how precious little they knew of the trove’s owner.

“The [Spring] Empire did not hold [Inheritances]. All we hold is reason and our readings. Old Master?”

With tentative speed did the catfish erge. His flight took wide berths around each pillar and arch, ending so many strides from the throne.

“Wise birds choose their trees. As does the inverse apply.”

Fu stroked his whisker. “Again we know little of this Ji Hakdo.”

“Co, youngling. This [Intent] is not so strong as to addle you. Gao Shuidi, more is expected.”

The [Spirit Crab] bristled despite the intensity of spiritual pressure upon them. “Bah. The answer is known, this Gao Shuidi only believes that she should not lower herself to it! We must act as the [Loneso Wind God] desires to begin his trial.”

“As he acts, and as he wishes an inheritor to be.”

Consideration passed.

All trace of mirth left the Fatherly [Asura’s] face as his fingers skirted the shrine’s central throne. “A God would lord, no? To subjugate the wind requires conquest. That is not our [Dao],” he said, furrowing his brow. “But foolish are those that cannot see forests for trees.”

As three, they sat.

Prodigious blood coughed from his immaterial lungs, spewing a malice of gold and black. The suddenness collapsed Fu back, and myriad segnts of his being were wrenched free. Each bite of the wind-trapped throne severed more and more until no swifter than three breaths later he felt sothing integral snap free.

His [Dao], shattering as all beca gold.

🀨

The arms of three beca wisps of one. From pincer ca plu and from stalk ca storm, nestling a fledgling rain amidst its grasp.

All that was physical was remade.

Exemplified.

For here in an endless expanse of burning, fuschia horizons the cultivators found their [Spirit] had beco external.

As one, their will did not question it.

These winds, rains and crackling lightning only blustered about the Heavens in search of what was lost and what might be found.

We are not whole.

Yet they saw what had been taken.

So infinite strata below there rushed a subtle cloud of granite tones. It was an intimate sight, known to the three-made-one as their mask. Their shroud and embrace, allowing them to escape all notice from the greater winds that sought to reap all they had beco.

Thus they chased.

Then stalled.

The will of these clouds knew peerless terror as myriad winds fled before them. An uncountable tide scread by, flocking and scurrying as no more than rodents might before a now-struck torch.

Fear overca these winds to such a degree that none dared draw this lesser cloud into their stream.

Not for fear of the rising god that cowed the horizon itself.

First ca the titan’s maw, hewn from a primordial storm. The teeth within were of [Winter’s] first gust, promising a cold to herald all ends and beginnings. Ruin spilled from its feathers, reaping the very colour of the endless horizons for they were not fitting to behold its presence.

And the three-made-one saw one glimpse all that lay behind its draconic head, quivering at the coiled length that held the earth’s entirety within its grip.

A sky-serpent.

A supre existence.

No other might be nad God but a dragon.

Down flew the three-made-one. In haste. In terror. In hope. The swiftness of wind was not with them, for their command was as a hand upon water- spilling through the weakness between their hold.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from . Please report it.

[Seasons] passed.

The sky-serpent went to rest, demanding that Heaven’s first storm made a bed on which it might lie.

Here the winds grew bolder.

The three-made-one ensnared their fallen part, seizing opportunity through this break. A fugue of their [Spirit] swallowed the granite puff, and yet they did not feel sated. Even so, clarity returned in swift breaths.

Fu condensed his will and from it the manifestations of his [Dao] shifted into that of a specter’s shroud. One speck in the tremulous domain of this sky-serpent, however, the sum of their insight was not lacking.

The [Dao of Coming Tribulations] surged within the cage of his chest, while intermittent rains stord through the [Dao of the Epheral Cascade].

All held by the fra of their [Dao of Four Horizons].

What held no place- or what his [Spirit] foretold was a beacon of disfunction. From what source it arrived the three-made-one could not say. Only that the [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers] offered no solace in this place.

But whose impressions are these? Is our internalized [Dao] so ill-suited? It has not grown in [Seasons]. Our [ntal] tempering is not so refined after the loss of the [Mantra of False Reunions]. The shrine’s influence might have taken hold.

A fool waxed such questions here of all places, he knew.

Hostile gales t him in monts.

[Half Cloud Step].

Fu breezed away when the [Art] did not co, blowing sideward that the attacker could not reach him.

Pungent tendrils t his [Senses] as this wind cycled back upon itself to strike. To near it evoked a mory of choking and of long-pastured corpses.

Hushi’s impression guessed of its origin. “{Dao of Battlefield Fus].” Or such was his theory of naming.

Indeed, these violent winds all possess the [Profundity] of middling pools. We face a sea of manifested [Dao], given shape by this spiritual realm.

Winds gathered at Fu’s palm, drawn from his own being. “From fla-dappled, know the gale to scorch lung and cleanse flesh. [Dao of Four Horizons],” he intoned, incinerating the aggressive [Dao] as it spread to engulf him.

An insight of the [Second Pool] paled against his [Third], fracturing into individual motes of [Profundity].

He did not call [Pull], and yet [Spirit] absorbed them all.

“This Gao Shuidi feels invigorated. That this realm could improve on perfection… We must reap more.”

To call the[Dao] had not drained him. Not in this place. It seed they could exercise the principles of their insight without fatigue or injury. More than this, the [Profundity] within the [Dao of Battlefield Fus] had proved a nourishnt.

They chased more.

With growing swiftness Fu began to hunt the roaming winds. At first he consud the minor [Dao] manifestations. That of [Frigid Gales], [Rain’s Herald], [Squall], [Night’s Dreaded Whisper], and myriad lesser, fledgling concepts.

Then ca the sky-serpent’s rising maw.

Outrage dominated the endless horizons as it stirred from rest. Undiluted wroth. An [Intent] to buckle sea and mountain.

What peerless strength.

Though it saw with more than eyes, Fu sought to mask his presence. He invigorated his [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers], suffusing himself in-

[Profundity] erupted from his gestalt like a squashed peach.

Tornt accompanied the leak. An agony indescribable as [Spirit] and [Mind] reduced his capabilities to that of a falling brick.

The three cried out as one.

Plumting.

Impotent.

By scream or presence alone, the sky-serpent poured his notice up them all. Of titanic nature and unmatched existence it held no need to rush toward the speck, no it ordered its supplicants to fetch that which was of so little concern.

Fu wrested with his [Spirit], tethering each [Dao] to his form once more.

Yet the hostile winds neared.

The sky-serpent waited.

Gales not of its dominion shredded by, plucking vital nourishnt from scraps of the three-made-one’s specter.

He was diminishing.

[Dao of…]

Pain barraged his thoughts and reason.

[Dao of the Epheral Cascade]!

What rains had split from his gestalt suddenly vibrated, seizing all winds before they might reach the last of him. A fleeting mont that he used to claw his [Dao] together once more and swiftly descend to the base of this horizon-spanning realm.

Defeated.

🀨

If this sky were an ocean then he ca to reside with scum. In the dark recesses of these endless horizons Fu dwelled amongst the lesser [Dao], biding his ti among the base insights that had yet to coalesce into full principles.

A thought of breezes moved by him.

The notion of an enemy’s breath.

One rush of mundane bellows, used to shape mortal tal.

His own insight could not be consolidated, and was fitting to dwell among such concepts.

Fu dwelled in the lotus position, ruminating upon his wrongness of [Dao].

Hushi comprised the palm of their wind-made form. Eight interlocked ribbons within a haze of rain and lightning that now held their [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers] aloft in a ball of golden [Profundity].

“The surrounding [Dao] behave strangely in this realm,” Fu whispered.

One fraction of insight breezed by him. Known to him as distant cousins to their own understanding. That of a Path that had forked long prior.

“[Dao of Final Gasps],” voiced Shuidi. “A lesser speck, not yet realized.”

It sought to enter their [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers].

A force of will pushed it aside.

“We know not this [Inheritance’s] function, nor the desire of the [Loneso Wind God]. A fool guesses, but that sky-serpent may hold the key. If it is to be defeated, we cannot accept wayward insights into our [Dao].”

Both Hushi and Shuidi agreed.

Much ponderance remained of the [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers].

“All other [Dao] manifest freely here. But this is the [Dao] engraved upon our soul. We must question if it shatters because the [Loneso Wind God] does not view its representation favourably or because the insight we possess no longer applies. Is it used improperly? Are we not cultivators that withdraw into wind and hide amongst it?”

“This elder has never wished to conflate wisdom and opinion, youngling. Yet, the door is there. A threshold. Horses can be led to water, is this not said? Reflect inwardly, Gao Fu.”

Grandmother Hua had promised the [Loneso Wind God’s] treasures would contain his final [Constellation Seed]. To be offered by the [Cherry River Sage] it surely had no equal, yet neither did he wish to taint his [Dao] with the insights of another solely for material gain.

He stroked his whisker, calling upon his [Ink].

Hushi stroked a single line of characters.

Shuidi smirked. “An answer eternally scribed.”

The [Tribulation] of rebirth had changed much, and none among them had put faith in the aning behind the [Boon] inscribed there.

“[Hegemony of Pale Mists],” acknowledged Fu, pensive. “Indeed we have ascended foolishly, without consolidation. The lens through which we have viewed our cultivation gathers dust, brother, sister, does it not?”

This realm followed no material law.

The three-made-one drew breath regardless. But this breath was not of Qi - of [Spectral] or [Mists], or indeed of any [Season] - for only the [Boundless Dao] were sustained.

“Our concept must evolve. For many [Seasons] we have walked knowing Inevitability. Our insight has ascended, inscribing now that it is one part of the greater whole, where before it was our all. At [Foundation Realm] we held not the pride nor talent to align ourselves with the greatest concept. Between our past selves and those that stand here now - the difference is like that of Heaven and Earth.”

Again the roaming [Dao] neared him. Stray ribbons that spoke of [Spring’s Propagation].

Hushi seized it with a tether of [Profundity].

“A hegemon demands no equilibrium. We do not bend to the mists for they are the willing shawl. Our domain lies in the turbulent black of storm’s shadow and the gentle glow of showers now passed. Both Father and [Asura], Hegemon and assassin. No longer are we Inevitability, but the Duality of True Change and Ever-Shifting Clouds.”

“And this Gao Shuidi will have the wind bend.”

The [Dao of Spring’s Propagation] cowed before them, but did not enter the gestalt of their wind-made form. It reduced, becoming a circuit of ribbons but a hair’s breadth from their manifested [Spirit].

A subject. A disciple.

One that would shatter themselves before betrayal.

There breezed a second to the east, the promise of a coming chill, and this fell in line with the first.

On they moved with the [Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers] clutched in their palm, ushering in their reign over all that swept by. As with all things it began in minor numbers, and for each wind they demanded to their side their gestalt grew in scale and power both.

Fu felt his [Dao] broaden as the strata were climbed.

Soon these three no longer dwelled amongst the scraps, but carved a skyward path towards higher strata. To where [Dao] of the [First Pool] submitted to their banner, and the [Second Pool] bent to see the great force they had beco.

This was the Path of Four Horizons.

“All we have endured has beco all that we are,” intoned Fu, seeing that all they encountered were all that could have been.

To each roaming [Dao] was an insight gleaned across their Path. Fragnts of what might have been and what they had grazed in their understanding. Truly the wind was a myriad force, containing all within its sphere.

Hushi seized most of this opportunity. Across each higher step he enacted the [Dao of Four Horizons] with prodigious range, corralling the winds of icy shores with his insight of flaming gales and the fetid fus of death with the joyous purity of life nourishing winds. His passion was ever for poison and its intricacies - yet his talent for recalling mories of each horizon they had already tread greatly diminished their difficulty within the [Third Pool’s] strata.

At the [Fourth], their [Ink] raged with heat.

Insight attained.

[Dao of Wind’s Present Whispers] ascended.

[Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation] [Third Pool] [Middle]

Insight 50, Control 40, Senses 55

Silver light assaulted the surrounding horizons, for the sky-serpent could no longer suffer this interloper.

As Fu recovered from ascending his [Dao] the great titan reared its head once more. Where his hegemony of winds was a blustering storm the true lord of this realm sent forth storms enough to scour Heaven clean.

Thunder loosed at the opening of its maw.

“I am conquest,” it tremored. “That which stirs the Heaven with breath. What breeze dares to challenge it?”

The three-made-one swept a hand before the coming annihilation.

[Dao of Conquest’s Exhalation].

Fu’s will manifested through the [Dao]. His [Intent] of wind pierced a vast tunnel in the devastation, reaping tendrils of [Fourth Pool] insight into his own gestalt. “We are the [Hegemon of Pale Mists]. The Fatherly [Asura]. True Change manifest.”

The sky-serpent’s onslaught did not abate.

“Passing breaths. Fleeting storms. The sky’s dominance is eternal!” roared the dragon.

Darkened grey corrupted the regal, silver horizons. The serpent’s displeasure made manifest. Its attack swiftly escalated in concert, shredding the collective [Dao] that Fu had accumulated into his being.

“One breath begets the next,” called Fu. “We are but one cycle of the endless winds, that which cannot be broken.”

These prideful words could not mask his loss.

How the myriad [Dao] he claid were stripped by the handful for each repeating blow of the sky-serpent’s barrage.

How their gestalt and [Spirit] waned.

“Show ,” the [Loneso Wind God] thundered, widening its maw once more.