Co tomorrow the contest to secure futures will arrive.
Cultivators of the Jade Songbird Province, the City Lord demands your presence before her resplendent abode.
There you might show your worth.
There you might change fate.
“The first Phoenix lody Martial Contest,” a pamphlet.
Mingqin had indeed granted her permission, but the sight ahead…
“It is as a kite, no? At the wind’s rcy once its string is cut,” Fu noted, well-poised upon the City Lord’s palace roof.
So small span of days had passed since Zhu’s arrival. So small span of days had passed since Bojin and his connections had partially breathed life into the materials he had requisitioned, leaving an admirable Sect structure within his domain.
Thirteen hours had passed since Fu had suggested a small plan.
The festival before him was akin to Lunar Celebrations.
Vendors hawked and cultivators walked. Musicians and songstresses lined the corners of Jade Songbird City. A tangible thrum of converted pipa, flutes and guzheng seed to vibrate the very air amongst the chatter of citizen and traveller alike.
Sesa oil’s scent was thick upon the air.
Ten thousand kettles stewed the streets in fragrant wafts.
Spirit wine flowed.
A figure moved through the palace’s approach, then stalled. One of little passing conversation, and yet-
[Dour Faced Strategist] appeared one stride away, inspecting him from open air. “Gao Fu,” she said, rubbing her forefinger eight tis. “Have you co to escape Mingqin’er’s crowds? Or to observe? The feel is that of Lunar Celebration, no? A new moon brings trouble.”
Small interactions had been had with the renowned cultivator, this peerless warrior, [Demon]-scourge, and superstitious talent. Her ti was usually spent in Mingqin’s presence, or secluded within the palace’s inner ministries.
She was a half step between adolescent and not, but bore an experience of many hundred scars, as though each step or lift of the hand would pain her further.
“Venerable strategist,” dipped Fu. “I am rely observing the scale of things. Mingqin is great indeed to have so many souls organise like this. However, I will admit I do not favour the sll of saffron.”
The woman nodded curtly. “The idea is not uncommon. A martial contest to find recruits. Once, my Black Ribbon Graves held many.”
“No longer?”
“Our population does not grow, and few are foolish enough to move there. Righteous souls. Prideful souls. The peerless. Pah. Tell , Gao Fu, have you faced [Demons]?”
Fu’s lips thinned. “Many. Though that word is limp in your presence.”
“One [Demon] slain puts you leaps and bounds above these martial talents,” she gestured, highlighting the myriad banners below. “No nose would be so lofty if they had shared in this experience.”
Shuidi stirred from the folds of his hanfu. “This Gao Shuidi would know a thing.”
A hint of disdain surfaced on the woman’s face. It was said she held little patience for cultivators of [Mind].
Perhaps, understandably.
“Ask.”
“Yongwu Long is not magnetic enough to dissuade any from their cause. For the [Dour Faced Strategist] to leave her [Demon Front] is vexing. This Gao Shuidi would know why.”
She turned to the crowds below. “Dissuade? Bold to assu that I have abandoned our ancient war, little crab. Hmm. Though it is not unfounded. Yongwu Long ca to when I was powerless. Blind. At our eting he revealed more to than a thousand envoys, sages and conscripted strategists had in many hundred moons.”
Fu stroked his whisker. “Vital spirit.”
The immortal strategist regarded him strangely. “Vital spirit. Yes. Whatever history you share, Gao Fu, I urge you treat it as running water. Not as the [Dao Nad] strategist, or as aunt to Mingqin’er, but as one that has lived a lifeti tenfold your own. Yongwu Long is a current, and those that do not embrace it will be swept aside.”
🀨
Bojin ensured Mingqin’s preparations were of immortal standard, and it appeared that his support ca without regard for cost.
The Four Tiger Pill Society’s pockets were deep indeed.
Grounds had been cleared for many li, highlighting an expansive construction of tournant platforms and segregated viewing booths. What [Array] work was inscribed there had brought much contemplation from the Old One, for while he was out of touch with modern pricing, the material worth of each was indeed staggering.
[Diversional Force Arrays]. [Thousand Eyes Spectation Arrays.] [Black Sun Gravitational Arrays]. [Ten Elents Qi Condensation Arrays]. [Phoenix Tear Rejuvenation Arrays]. [Four Tiger Remuneration Array]. [Four Tiger Suppression Formations]. [Heavenly Tiger Personification Arrays].
The list seed unexhaustive.
“Citizens and guests of Jade Songbird City. This enlistnt ceremony is to begin,” resounded [Sound Qi], shared from a proclair’s bassy throat. “With the opportunity and growth experienced beneath City Lord Mingqin’s prudence care, those of the Phoenix lody Coalition extend an honor greater than many could comprehend!”
mory stirred of [Green Blight Valley’s] Placent and Cheng Rao, conducting so ten thousand militaristic serpents.
Endless allegiances spread among a gathered tide. Peculiarities, for amidst these petitioners Fu gleaned so of Sects or Halls. Those that sought better opportunities both within Mingqin’s burgeoning lands and beneath the golden banners of their coalition.
Fu admired their desire for change.
Shuidi, however, deplored the betrayal.
“Seven trials stand ready to receive your martial spirit! Seven venerables have crafted each to et their expectations! But know this, your City Lord holds no need for the talentless. Only those that succeed in five trials will be offered the peerless token of service, alongside all the benefits one of that station might claim!”
The anticipation was palpable.
Above the spanning tournant grounds there erged a great spectral simulacrum of the current proclair as he swept to attention. “Those that succeed will be granted the prize of ten [Golden Lotus Refinent Pills], ten [Earthly Vestige Spirit Elixirs] and one late [Core Formation Grade] weapon from the cauldrons of the Four Tiger Pill Society’s creation!”
Cries of exclamation deafened the city.
“The Four Tiger PIll Society? Such a weapon would be peerless!”
“In one hundred lifetis this penniless seeker could not dream of one [Golden Lotus Refinent Pill]!”
So thousand variations arose to this effect until Mingqin herself rose from her booth- a floating pavilion of exotic [Spirit Birds], dense pillars and vines. She reached the edge, trailing a cloak and gown of resplendent gold behind her.
Her cultivation had grown by leaps and bounds, and her twinned songbirds reflected this in full. These once-mortal-seeming beasts had beco juvenile phoenixes, awash in a golden, vibrating energy that had the air seem brittle about them.
“Know this, petitioners. Inscribe it upon your hearts. The act of entering Jade Songbird City’s service is not for the villainous. I seek only righteous souls. Those that view their strength as responsibility, not privilege. These gifts are welco to any that succeed here today, but reflect well, for the dishonest will be swiftly struck from these lands should greed enter any heart.”
Promise burned behind her irises.
Fu allowed a small smile as the proclair’s address continued.
“Humor? No. Warmth,” teased Long, feet upon the arm of his chair. “I-”
“Silence fool. This peerless plum seeks to enjoy herself. That cannot be done beside the slobbering of dogs,” cut the Plum Phoenix.
Seven seats were arrayed on seven floating pavilions, positioned to preside over this enlistnt ceremony from on high.
Long’s call pierced the small distance between each. “Bah, I’m wounded. Plum bird, strange that you take umbrage at speaking, it’s not as though you’ve either Sect or talent enough to recruit any.”
So few seats away, Bojin masked his expression.
Zhu unstoppered a stone gourd, paying no heed.
The Ninety Nine Palm Sect’s representative, Iseul, frowned.
“Amituofo. A house cannot stand on shaking pillars. Peace, fellows, peace. Yongwu Long, let us be proper when amongst friends.”
A vicious laugh erupted from Long. “We’re rely playful, Abbot. The [Boundless Dao] allows teasing. A true daoist knows all things are allowed, no? Indeed, the worldly should know all sides of all coins.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Small traces of [Profundity] laced his words, but they ca in jest.
Abbot Abhaya bead. “As you say, Yongwu Long. Forgive these reckless words, that is a truth unconsidered.”
An immortal’s [Intent] cut across the pavillions, silencing all for the final proclamation.
“...and for those with exemplary [Prowess], a choice will be given. To any that succeed all trials, the seats of the Phoenix lody Coalition may offer their own ans to defy fate itself. For the talented, these venerable seats grant discipleship to those that blaze like phoenixes amongst the common.”
🀨
It was improper to walk among the applicants.
So had [Dour Faced Strategist’s] scowl burrowed that ssage clearly into the flesh of those that dared attempt it.
No impatient soul, Fu rely spectated.
To fill the role of Sect Leader, Patriarch, or Master - whichsoever would soon be his address - the finer aspects of face had to be observed. The pageantry of an assassin lent itself well to this, for he could appear stoic or foolish as the situation demanded.
Righteous. Bold. Reserved. Dignified. Many masks beggared many routes.
Hushi queried Fu on which they might most suitably wear.
Many of Bojin’s overlapping [Arrays] were conveniences, and aligned upon the generously laden tables of each Coalition’s pavilion - clearly demarcated aside luxury foods and libations - spectral abacuses stood.
Eight of corresponding colour.
Plum. Gold. Bronze. Four-coloured green, red, blue and brown. Mingqin’s silver. Black. Ivory.
Teal.
Shuidi remarked that their own would require beads before thoughts of mask, appearance and propriety ca forth.
A petitioner far below took stage, beginning their fifth trial. Three [Spirit Lizards] clung to her lowered gun, pulsing the sa hue of li as her waist-length hair.
The Ninety Nine Palm Sect’s trial awaited her.
Mingqin’s patience warred against indulgence, and so so hundred petitioners rose alongside the li-haired cultivator, stepping forth to et this concerted challenge.
Upon a platform of pristine marble manifested great pillars of bronze, conspiring to form trunks of thickened tal.
Iseul noticed Fu’s regard. “Ninety nine palms or a single palm. All must be the sa. Strength cos from technique, not [Might].”
The first petitioners struck the bronze, birthing violent ripples across the trunk’s surface.
None among them cracked.
Many cultivators and [Spirit Beasts] alike struck once more, leveraging fist, elbow or sole into the rippling pillars. On this second flurry the force rebounded, smacking the impatient back as if the hand of a scornful mother.
Hushi sensed potential in the li-haired cultivator, for she and her [Spirit Lizards] drew back in contemplation. Perhaps she whispered a mantra before her strike, or shared impressions as the makings of an offensive stance overca her - it mattered not.
Her [Spirit Lizards] grew, reflecting their cultivation.
Long slender limbs extended beneath an aura of gentle glow, sizing these beasts to a scale with their partner. A profound [Lightning Qi] danced across their scales as small puffs of cloud tapered from eye and maw.
They struck as one, pitting tail, claw and foot in contact with the pillar in unison.
It glowed.
It shattered.
“That girl has the way of it,” noted Iseul, though she was not excited.
From the scattered light of the broken pillar ford a small ringlet of jade, suspended there at the cultivator’s head. Not forgetting propriety, she bowed to the many spectating pavilions before slipping it upon her wrist.
At her whisper, the jade shifted between gold and ivory.
Mingqin and Long’s abacuses shifted, denoting another that held interest.
Another potential disciple.
Shuidi scoffed at their own anemic display.
Among dragons we are overlooked. Our renown has not spread wide enough to gain interest over our fellows here.
An internal sigh overtook Fu. “Long,” he called.
“Yes, my fellow, regal seat of the Phoenix lody Coalition?”
Pincers clacked as Shuidi leapt closer. “This Gao Shuidi wishes to trade pointers. Imdiately.”
🀨
“Yongwu Long,” they gasped.
“The one with [Dour Faced Strategist] at his side?”
“Handso.”
“My, I would allow him to trade pointers for a [Season] straight,” fawned an adolescent cultivator.
“A [Season] straight, you are too reserved sister. To be entwined in silks with-”
[Senses] shifted from the spirited talks of Long’s imagined… [Prowess].
“Gao Fu,” ca with less certainty.
“The righteous wanderer?”
“Mingqin’s trusted friend.”
“There is rumor of his talent.”
“He is as old as the hills, how can this be so?”
“That moustache,” trilled another, older citizen. “I wonder how it might tickle?”
“Mother! That is shaful!”
As seats of the Coalition, they moved, and it was so.
Atop a swiftly clearing platform, Fu glanced upwards. He gave a high, but respectful bow to Mingqin and [Dour Faced Strategist] by way of perceived apology and permission both. It would lose much face should this bout be interrupted.
It was not.
Announcents broke across the enlistnt ceremony, reverberating across myriad platforms, stands and into the wider streets of Jade Songbird City as each viewing [Array] flashed to display the scene.
That of a western Fu and eastern Long, opposed.
A ntal transmission nudged him, which Fu accepted.
“Please don’t attempt to assassinate here. That would go poorly for both of us,” laughed Long’s ntal voice. “Fu,know that I’ll not hold back.”
Fu grinned, and his next words were declaration. “I am Gao Fu, and I offer a humble display to honor the righteous City Lord.”
“I am Yongwu Long, Master of the Golden Beginnings, Conqueror of the [Western Demon Front], Realm-Lord of [One Dragon Hill]. Defier of Serpents, and inheritor to the Jianghu’s will. My blade rises in honor of the City Lord.”
Such titles were pompous, unknown, and to have t Long, most likely true.
A vexation. Realm-Lord and Conqueror? The Clouded Courts has reported none of this as true, and yet [Dour Faced Strategist] does not deny it.
Yet, Fu pondered if this was for his own benefit. An oddity, yes, but surely one of such talent would not deign to duel a lesser opponent.
Long drew his jian, and bowed low.
This gesture was matched as Fu withdrew a weapon from the [Shrine of Final Skies]. Sothing as of yet unused.
Pageantry had him unearth the blade slowly, revealing a tal of two faces, that of radiant white and endless black. A taijutu was shallowly engraved upon its hilt, expressing the duality of this chain, for each slender link repeated the twinned shades in repetition, only ending when a second head was t on the chain’s opposite side.
Fu spun the dual-headed chain, expressing his will that the entirety turn white.
Sun-facing.
The naless smith of Divine Clouded Mountain was truly peerless, for in a breath’s span its length was entirely of ivory.
Gold flared along Long’s jian.
Fu set himself into the first position of the [Wind Phantom Strides].
“A fool would allow the first move,” ca Long’s ntal voice, and their weapons t at a swiftness unmatched.
Loud was the first clash.
Deafening were the hundred blows thereafter.
Though the most lusted for this trial, Shuidi remained within the douli’s brim. It was Hushi that engaged the four diving [Spirit Carp], blurring amidst their rush.
Conversations with Feng had prepared him for such a bout, for it was akin to music. To a pupa’s sting, plucked.
It was a tease.
A taste.
How strange that Long proved so accommodating.
Their strokes revealed much of the other, and did not wholly play to the crowd’s growing astonishnt.
Hushi found a [Resilience] in these carp.
A [Might] imparted to physical strength and a near matching swiftness to their own. Such was mirrored in Long’s own titanic strokes. They were earth-shattering things, enough to sunder mountains and split the Heavens.
Perfect, as if honed across a thousand lifetis.
Yet [Senses] had him match Fu in swiftness, not [Might]. Whether through instinct or simply the monuntal attributes upon Long’s [Ink], he placed his jian where each cut of the chain’s dual blades might land, pivot, chase and lash.
Another hundred strikes passed across a mortal’s breath.
A thousand.
More.
Silence bayed the breath of all spectators, holding this sight in reverence. Or perhaps the clash demanded that naught else but the other be focused on.
Fu’s martial spirit burned bright even after so short a span.
Indeed, this was a dangerous wind.
Long pulled a wicked grin. “[Arrival of the Golden Demon].”
Qi erupted from-
“[Wind Phantom’s Breath].”
Volcanic tides of [Gold Qi] burst from Yongwu Long, eting an irresistible gale from Fu’s exhaling lungs.
The pair separated swiftly.
Danced.
Fu entered the air as Long plunged his jian into the platform below. “[The Golden Demon Empties His Grip].”
Discarding one’s weapon against a near-immortal was a lesson in foolishness, thus only a palm extended for the progression of this conflict.
Shuidi stepped forth. “Golden. Bah. Let this Gao Shuidi show you a true [Demon].”
[Three Wisps From Breath].
Great illuminated cracks split across the myriad [Defensive Arrays] as Long and Shuidi loosed their Qi upon the other. Neither were blind to the clash’s intended purpose, manifesting countless, clear constructs as not to muddy the eyes of all that looked upon them.
The [Spirit Crab’s] were chains and claws, clouds, tendrils and columns, piercing and bursting, reforming and twisting a sea of granite mists against an onslaught of Long’s [Gold Qi] - conjured as roaring dragons.
His [Affinity] was a nebulous sort.
Rare. Disregarded.
Fu learned well of its uses now, grinning.
It was here Long shone. In [Push], [Capacity] and [Control]. His golden dragons surged, devouring each of Shuidi’s constructs as they rose. Impacting the intangible as though these were true existences and the very Qi bowed to them in supplication.
Laughter resounded from Long. “A poor way to end a fight!”
[Half Cloud Step]. [Eightfold Arrival of the Asura].
Mist-borne arms sprouted about Fu as he blurred forth. “Oh?” he laughed. “Has this fight begun already?”
Eight limbs t Long’s jian, though the din of tal was clouded by mirthful grunts, flaring Qi and Hushi’s madness above.
The dance beca that of constellations - an airborne concert of strikes and afterimages as Long’s [Internal Arts] flared to have him match Fu’s speed. Each eting pushed profound ripples of [Mist] and [Gold Qi] across the stage, and the [Arrays] witnessed further cracks.
“[Dao of the-],” proclaid Long.
“[Dao of the-],” whispered Fu.
“Masters Long and Gao!” arrived like a shockwave.
Fu, Hushi and Shuidi blurred to the ground, reserved.
A jian decapitated the [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud] before returning to Long’s sheathe.
It stung.
“City Lord,” clasped Fu.
Atop the highest pavilion stood Mingqin, a poorly concealed smirk on her lips. Such a display from her allies - from those that so publicly upheld her interests - it was no small boon.
But she had beco one to observe propriety. “Masters Long and Gao. This stage cos from the generosity of the Four Tiger Pill Society. Better that it remains for future generations, is it not?”
Devastation littered the marble platform, as widespread as the alchemists and [Array] masters that poured towards the damaged formations like hungry insects.
“As you say, City Lord,” said Long. “We only hope this has offered a taste of what benefits might arrive under your service.”
Both blurred to their pavilions, finding they were waylaid by an unscheduled interlude as myriad repairs went underway.
Fu did not mind.
It granted ti to count the myriad blots of teal upon his abacus.
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