Threads of Destiny #1-86
Author: Yrsillar
Date: 2021-05-30T00:00:00+00:00
Publisher: anonymous

Table Of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Threads of Destiny-Prologue
Threads Chapter 1-New Settings
Threads Chapter 2
Bonus: The Great Diviner
Threads Chapter 3
Threads Chapter 4
Threads Chapter 5
Threads Chapter 6
Threads Chapter 7-The Bloody Dream 1
Threads Chapter 8
Threads Chapter 9
Threads Chapter 10
Threads 11- Sect Challenges 1
Threads 12
Threads 13
Threads 14
Bonus: Xiangmen, the Heavenly Pillar
Threads 15
Threads 16
Threads 17
Threads 18
Threads 19-Dreams 1
Threads 20
Threads 21-Duels 1
Threads 22-Duels 2
Threads 23-Winter's Muse
Threads 24 Winter's Muse 2
Threads 25 Winters Muse 3
Threads 26 Winters Muse 4
Threads 27 Siblings 1
Threads 28 Siblings 2
Threads 29-Siblings 3
Interlude: The Cobbler and the Viper
Bonus: Macabre
Threads 30 Adventures 1
Threads 31-Adventures 2
Threads 32-Adventure 3
Threads 33-Peers 1
Threads 34 Peers 2
Threads 35 Peers 3
Bonus: Snake and Spider 1
Threads 36 Three Moons 1
Threads 37 Three Moons 2
Threads 38 Three Moons 3
Chapter 39-Three Moons 4
Threads 40-Justice 1
Threads 41 Justice 2
Bonus: Characters of Destiny
Threads 42-Justice 3
Threads 43 Justice 4
Threads 44 Death 1
Bonus: Handmaiden
Threads 45-Death 2
Threads 46 Signs 1
Threads 47 Signs 2
Threads 48-Signs 3
Threads 49-Perspectives
Threads 50-Downtime 1
Bonus: The Sky that Fell
Threads 51-Downtime 2
Threads 52-Downtime 3
Threads 53-Downtime 4
Bonus: Character Sheet
Threads 54-Nobility
Threads 55 Nobility 2
Threads 56-Nobility 3
Threads Chapter 57-Bao Qian 1
Threads 58-Bao Qian 2
Threads 59-Bao Qian 3
Threads 60-Bao Qian 4
Interlude: Outer Sect
Threads 61-Dressmaker 1
Threads 62 Dressmaker 2
Threads 63-Dressmaker 3
Threads 64-Foreshock 1
Bonus: Snake and Spider 2
Threads 65-Foreshock 2
Threads 66-Foreshock 3
67-Foreshock 4
Bonus: Outer Sect Tremors
Threads 68-Foreshock 5
Threads 69: Foreshock 6
Chapter 70: Foreshock 7
Threads 71- Epilogue-War
Threads 72-Interlude-Shockwaves
Threads Interlude Rivers and Rain
threads 73-Normalcy 1
Threads 74-Normalcy 2
Threads 75-Normalcy 3
Threads 76-Normalcy 4
Chapter 77-Normalcy 5
Threads 78-Normalcy 6
Chapter 79-Muse 1
Threads 80-Muse 2
Interlude: Dance
Threads 81-Parting 1
Threads 82-Parting 2
Threads 83-Integration 1
Threads 84-Integration 2
Threads 85-Household 1
Threads 86-Household 2

Threads of Destiny-Prologue

The ache in his bones and soul was growing worse, Khashin thought.

His armor and harness hung heavy on his shoulders as torrential rain pounded down from the clouds overhead. Not a single droplet touched him or his Soul-Brother.

<We are not so feeble as that,> the deep and ancient voice of his Soul-Brother rumbled in his thoughts. Beneath, his Beast-Self tossed its head, letting out an equine snort, and with his Man-Self’s hand, he patted the beast’s neck. Sparks danced on his hooves as they churned air, and powerful wings beat once, carrying them higher toward the sheared off mountain peak that was their destination.

All around, the shadows of his shamans and warriors danced in the storm, the beat of the drums indistinguishable from the rumble of thunder.

If only he could recognize their faces, the old man thought, narrowing his eyes behind his bone flight mask as he peered ahead. Gone were his brothers and sisters. Even his beloved Dagasai had been laid to rest among the earthbones. Their children, too, had passed, and most of their grandchildren as well. He had difficulty recalling the names of those left.

Yes, they would soon seek the stars together.

Not this day, however. Today, worldly duty beckoned.

Khashin felt the moment that his cadre’s storm met the other’s, clouds crashing against one another with an earthshaking rumble. With a thought, his Beast-Self angled down, mighty wings spread wide, and began to circle the peak.

In the distance, he saw his equal do the same, emerging from the rains to circle once, then twice, and finally a third time as the beat of the drums rose to a crescendo from both sides.

As he made the third pass, Khan Khashin’s Man-Self let out a long breath, and together with his Soul-Brother, he loosened his grip on their oversoul.

The storm shook, and the air rippled under the spreading force, clearing rain and cloud as the full might of a man near the pinnacle of the Sixth Heaven emerged. Across from him, the other Khan’s soul emerged, roiling outward to clash with his at the center. Beast and Man alike let out a grunt of effort, Soul shoving against Soul as the sky above them cleared, leaving a perfect circle of sunlight shining down on the mountain peak.

He grimaced as the other Khan gave way for him, a show of respect for his age and deeds but nothing more. To think that this boy half his age could match him so. He was growing feeble.

His Beast-Self’s hooves clattered, kicking up sparks as it cantered across stone instead of sky, and he came to rest within earshot of his fellow Khan.

“Khan Khashin of the Lightning Drinkers greets you,” he announced as they came to a halt, his voice scratchy with age and wear.

“Khan Galidan of the Behemoth Eaters gives his respect,” the younger man’s voice boomed from where he sat atop his own mount. It was a massive thing, a great eagle with golden feathers that outmassed his own Beast-Self twice over and more.

Khashin peered through narrow eyes at the younger man. Just as he was, the other man was dressed for battle, his face concealed behind a carved mask of bone. “Why did you request this meeting?” the old Khan asked, cantering forward.

Khan Galidan reached up, removing his mask. He had the face of a man in his prime, clean-shaven with sharp eyes that pierced like spears. “I would speak to you of the grand Kurultai and the opening of Skyson’s vault.”

Khan Khashin grunted, removing his own mask and exposing his badly weathered face to the high mountain wind. “You wish our warriors to ally in the Game then?”

“That would be most welcome, mighty Khan,” Galidan agreed. “I had hoped to speak of the other matter however.”

Now, Khashin scowled. “Fool,” he spat. “Do you think yourself mightier than Ogodei?”

“No,” the younger Khan replied, meeting his glare without a flinch, even as the mountain under them began to shake, stones rattling and dust falling as their spirits once again clashed. “Assault is foolish, but the lowlanders’ greed will never be satisfied.”

After a pause, Galidan said, “Besides, Taghai will be seeking the right to name himself Khagan, no matter what words we speak.”

His words brought Khashin up short, his expression twisting in furious incredulity. “I know his ambitions. Who would listen to that ice-addled madman?”

“Many,” Galidan replied, crossing his arms. “These past five winters, his tribe was untouched.”

Khashin’s eyes narrowed. The further south one flew, the harsher the winters grew, carried on icy winds from the dead-plains south of the Mother Mountains. “I assume you do not merely mean that luck favored him.” He had flown all this way, Khashin decided. He would hear what tale this young man wished to spin.

“The Crone ignored him to feast on his neighbors,” the younger man expanded. “And why not? He has married an Ice Witch from the south and offers the beast sacrifice.”

Khan Khashin leaned back in his saddle, his expression cold. The Iron-Toothed Crone, who flew north in a vessel of stone each winter to torment the People in the southern mountains, was an ancient foe of Father Sky. Where she passed, food spoiled, lesser beasts went mad, and children disappeared from their cribs. She could not be fought, only survived. “You make bold accusations. Tribes have gone to war for lesser insults.”

Galidan spread his hands helplessly. “I do not speak falsely. He does little to hide it. Winter’s cold spreads further north with each year, and the lowlanders push us into her embrace. Is it any wonder that the People lose faith in Father Sky’s wisdom? We are free to fly as we will, but do these mountains not hold the bones of our Mother?”

The old man closed both sets of eyes. That, at least, rang true. He heard the sullen whispers among the younger warriors, those who had not seen the horror that followed Ogodei’s failure. They saw only retreat and submission, the cowardice of old men. Yet never had one of his warriors, let alone a Khan, dared to turn to the worship of demons such as the Crone or the Gnawers.

“To cling to a single place is error,” he replied quietly.

“Yet you are still here,” Galidan noted, Beast and Man alike fixing him with a look. “You have not flown west beyond the Red Garden or East beyond the Sun’s Grave, as some did.”

Khan Khashin grunted, his Beast-Self stamping its hooves. “The Mother Mountains are not a single place,” he answered.

“As most of the People would agree,” Galidan said.

“... Make your proposal, Khan Galidan,” the older man said.

“I wish only for you to support me when I make claim to the Skyson’s legacy,” Khan Galidan replied, the great beast beneath him spreading its wings.

“You will die,” Khashin said flatly. “None have survived entering the tomb.”

“Perhaps,” the younger man replied, lifting off. “But I will not die chased from my home, nor corrupted by demons. I ask only to be given the chance.”

“I will investigate your words,” the old man said, his Beast-Self’s wings spreading as well. “If you speak truth about Taghai, I will support you.” Left unsaid was that a lie would see new vendetta declared.

The sky changed always, but Khashin had hoped that his final days might pass without strife.

The spirits laugh at the desires of men.

Threads Chapter 1-New Settings

Ling Qi stood at the edge of the grassy cliff and looked over her new home. Mountains and hills stretched in every direction, blanketed by the mists of an early fall morning, not yet chased away by the sun’s rays. In the distance the mighty slopes of the Outer Sect’s White Cloud Mountain, as she now knew it to be called, pierced the clouds, almost a third of the vast peak rising high above into the heavens.

She wondered how her mentor Zeqing was faring, and Hanyi as well. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to the ice spirits that lived upon the frozen summit since before the qualifying tournament. She would find out soon enough, she mused - as soon as the application to continue visiting Zeqing’s home cleared the Sect’s bureaucracy. It was going to be strange, to lose access to many of the sites she had so freely used over the last year - in the interests of competition, Inner Sect disciples were restricted from visiting sites belonging to the Outer Sect, barring special circumstances. It wouldn’t do to have the more tenured students monopolise the most potent sites for years on end, or so it had been explained to her. An inconvenience, yes, but Ling Qi had no doubt that she’d be more than able to find suitable replacements.

Scanning the rest of the horizon, the rest of the peaks were mere hills by comparison to White Cloud Mountain, barely tickling the underbelly of the cloudline. The mountain she now stood upon was no exception. Storm’s Repose, a grand name for a rather modest mountain, was the least of those belonging to the Inner Sect. Others, deeper within the titanic mountain range of the Wall, equalled or even surpassed White Cloud in altitude, with some rising so high that their peaks were deadly to cultivators of the third realm like her.

<The view is pretty great,> Sixiang murmured in her thoughts, the insubstantial moon spirit’s essence tingling in her thoughts as they peered out through Ling Qi’s eyes. <The house is a bit small though, isn’t it?>

<It is,> Ling Qi thought, turning away from the cliff with a swish of silk. Her dark gown swayed around her ankles, and the winglike half-cloak which hung from her back flared out, fluttering in the wind a moment too long to be natural. She couldn’t stand here all morning. She had to settle into her new abode.

The grassy cliff she stood upon was a narrow thing, the vibrant green grass contrasting with protruding grey stone all around despite the chill of encroaching winter. Her disciple’s home was built directly into the side of the mountain, visible only by the perfectly set and framed door of darkly lacquered wood which formed its entrance.

<You’re gonna have a hard time fitting the little big guy in here, aren’t you?> Sixiang asked.

Pausing at the door, Ling Qi grimaced. That was true, but...

<Zhengui isn’t little anymore! ... But I miss the garden,> her other spirit, Zhengui, muttered sleepily from her dantian. The tortoise-snake had been slipping into lengthy naps more and more since the end of the tournament.

<I put in the paperwork for a space in the large spirit environment. Weren’t you paying attention?> Ling Qi thought back grumpily to Sixiang.

<Not really!> the spirit replied cheerfully.

<Of course you weren’t,> Ling Qi thought, sighing. Sixiang’s attention wandered at the best of times.

“Zhengui, hang on. I’ll have a space for you soon,” she murmured aloud. She was thankful that Lady Cai had helped her expedite matters.

<Zhengui trusts Big Sister,> Zhengui yawned in her thoughts, sinking back into slumber.

The last few days had been an exhausting slog, most of her time spent dealing with all the set-up for entering the Inner Sect. Between paperwork for a living and cultivating space for Zhengui, then another stack of forms for permission to visit Zeqing, and yet another allowing her to spar with Meizhen, Lady Cai, and Gu Xiulan, she’d hardly had a moment to focus on anything else. She had no idea how her liege managed it.

Stepping inside, Ling Qi found herself in a warm room of polished gray stone. A paper lantern hung from the ceiling overhead, casting the simple furniture set around the chamber in a soft and welcoming light. The lantern hung a bit low, Ling Qi noted with mild annoyance, ducking under it as she swept toward the hall that lead to the other rooms. The door closed with a quiet click behind her.

Continuing her exploration, Ling Qi found a small kitchen and a pantry well stocked for simple meals and tea. She lingered for a moment, studying the formations on the shelves and walls meant to preserve the ingredients, clean the space, and repel pests. They were more complex than what she could compose herself; such utility had never been the focus of her formations studies.

Next, she found an empty room full of workbenches and cupboards. This was a space meant for craftwork. It wasn’t much use to her, but poking through the cupboards turned up numerous mundane but high quality tools, from carving knives to needles to tongs and a hammer laid by a small forge in the far corner.

Leaving the workshop behind, she next came upon a heavy wooden door banded with formation-reinforced iron. Swinging the heavy door open, Ling Qi sucked in a surprised breath as potent qi washed over her.

<Now that’s a good feel,> Sixiang sighed happily as Ling Qi stepped past the threshold. The room beyond was rough. Unlike the other rooms, it seemed like a natural cavern. A glittering reverse forest of limestone stalactites hung from its high ceiling, and the floor was smooth and flat, sloping gently downward until it reached a simmering pool of liquid silver. In the center of the pool rose an outcropping of glittering yellow crystal shot through with streaks of pale green.

This must be the lesser Argent Vent she had been assigned. Already, it felt stronger than the Argent Vent she and her friends had discovered last year, which had greatly helped them in cultivating their base cultivation. The qi in the room was potent, and Ling Qi allowed herself a few minutes to luxuriate in the mist which rose steadily from the cracks in the crystal outcropping before moving on.

At the very back, she found a bedroom. Appointed with a simple, if comfortable, bed, a polished writing desk, and mirror, as well as a wardrobe, it wasn’t exactly a step down from her previous accommodations.

It was hard to imagine that barely more than a year ago, Ling Qi had been sleeping in whatever warm alleyways or corners she could find. Having a real blanket would have been a luxury, she mused, patting the comforter on her new bed.

She shouldn’t get too attached though; if she successfully ranked up to the next tier, she’d be moving into another residence. If anything, the residence that her mother and half-sister lived in in the Sect village would be more stable during her stay in the Inner Sect before she took up her duties on the Emerald Seas border for Cai Renxiang. The Sect village was more distant now, but she would make sure to make regular visits. She was determined not to abandon her mother again now that they’d reconnected once more.

Ling Qi began to put away her few possessions, materializing them one by one from her storage ring. The dress Xiulan had gifted her went into her wardrobe. She hadn’t worn it in months, thanks to the masterpiece of talisman-craft she had earned in defending her now-liege, Cai Renxiang, but she couldn’t help but feel a little attached to it. It had been the first nice outfit she had owned in years.

<You should change things up more often,> Sixiang suggested as she closed the wardrobe.

“Where am I going to find a dress as powerful as this one?” Ling Qi scoffed.

<You can wear things for other reasons you know,> the spirit replied dully.

Now that was just silly, Ling Qi thought. What if she were attacked while wearing something less potent?

Sixiang had no response to that, and Ling Qi moved on.

One of her newest possessions, a deep green jade badge, came next. Its flat surface held two numbers picked out in silver. First was her current rank in the Sect, Eight Hundred and Thirty. The second was her current contribution points. Thanks to the formations embedded in the jade, the numbers changed on their own. As she only needed to wear the badge for official functions, so she tucked it into the topmost drawer of her desk for now.

<You really have to tell me about the adventure that got you those extra points sometime,> Sixiang whispered. Unlike her peers, whose badges had started with a tiny “ten” for their contribution points, Ling Qi had a “twenty.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already picked it out,” Ling Qi said aloud. She had dreamed of that basement and chilling altar more than once. She was glad that she and Su Ling had stopped that crazed barbarian from unleashing a plague, and it seemed the Sect was as well.

<Stingy,> Sixiang murmured, unable to hear thoughts not directed at them.

Ling Qi laughed under her breath as she put down the last of her new possessions, a slip of jade containing the secrets of the Argent Genesis art. Like the rest of the Argent arts, it had been created by the ancestors of Sect Head Yuan He and polished to perfection under his eye. As the successor cultivation art to Argent Soul, which had been given to all incoming Outer Sect members, Argent Genesis was given to all incoming Inner Sect members, and focused on assisting cultivators in building a strong foundation for future growth. As was usual for Argent arts, it was a balanced art, designed to mingle with almost every form of Imperial cultivation, and in particular for Genesis, a fine secondary cultivation art.

Although her personal cultivation art, Eight Phase Ceremony, was higher quality, having been gifted by the great spirit of the Moon, Ling Qi was well aware of the benefits that the Argent cultivation arts could bring, having mastered Argent Soul during her time in the Outer Sect. Besides, the first few levels of the art seemed fairly easy to grasp.

Today was her first true day as an Inner Sect disciple. She would have to make sure that it and all the others that would follow counted. The Duchess had set a harsh goal for her liege and herself. She couldn’t afford to fall behind.

***

“It’s good to see you again, Li Suyin,” Ling Qi greeted her friend brightly as they met among the crowd heading to the earliest of the elders’ freely given basic lessons. Ling Qi thought it would be wise to attend every elder’s lesson at least once to show respect and see what knowledge was on offer.

Her friend smiled back at her a touch nervously. Li Suyin had begun to grow her powder blue hair out again, and it now reached her shoulders. The shapeless smock she had taken to wearing in her workshop had been replaced with a gown of pale green silk with gold trim. Only the hexagonal patterned eyepatch she wore remained the same.

“You as well, Ling Qi,” Suyin greeted politely. “Congratulations on placing so highly in the tournament.”

“I could say the same to you,” Ling Qi said cheerfully, glancing around at the other disciples. Most looked to be only a bit older than them, but there were a scattering of people who looked quite a bit older in as much as cultivators bore the marks of early aging anyway. “Where do I put my order in for one of your meridian talismans?”

Li Suyin’s expression grew bashful. “A-ah, well, I should have the first production batch done in a month or so? I will be sure to give you one then.”

Ling Qi opened her mouth to protest at the gift, but a pointed look from her one-eyed friend made her close it again. She supposed she didn’t have any right to complain about charity. Li Suyin blanched then, her face growing pale. Her reaction was mirrored in a rippling wave of discomfort going through the crowd.

“Good morning, Ling Qi,” the voice of her closest friend, Bai Meizhen, reached her ears, and Ling Qi turned to find Meizhen moving through a wide gap in the crowd with the same smooth, gliding grace that she always had. Her golden slit-pupiled eyes moved disinterestedly over the disciples gathered for the lesson before focusing on Ling Qi. “I hope your move has found you well.”

“The ceiling is a little low,” Ling Qi grumbled, to which Meizhen responded with a raised eyebrow. The pale girl was a full head shorter than her after all. “But I am satisfied. For now,” she added cheekily.

“Good morning, Miss Bai,” Li Suyin greeted from beside her, determined to be polite even while struggling under Bai Meizhen’s heavy aura of terror.

Bai Meizhen glanced at her and gave a shallow nod. “Good morning,” she replied, not unkindly but with clear disinterest. “Ling Qi, is Cai Renxiang not attending this lecture?”

“She remains busy,” Ling Qi replied apologetically. “I will be taking notes for her though,” she continued, holding up the lacquered case of writing utensils provided for the task.

Meizhen’s lips quirked up, and even Li Suyin gave a nervous laugh. “I had wondered when it was that you had decided to be a scholar,” Meizhen said dryly.

Ling Qi laughed as they resumed walking toward the lecture area, chatting with her friends. Well, she chatted with Meizhen. Li Suyin still seemed too nervous to speak up. It was nice. Could she have imagined a year ago that she could walk around with a straight back, and her head held high in a crowd like this?

Putting aside her musings, the elder’s venue of choice was no lecture hall. Rather, the path led her and the other disciples into an expansive stone grotto with a softly bubbling pool at its rear. It was lit by innumerable softly glowing balls of light scattered across the artfully shaped ceiling. The grotto had never been touched by an artisan's chisel, but it was also shaped artificially all the same. Regular sloping stone benches rose from the mossy ground in concentric half- circles radiating out from the pool at the center, broken here and there by lanes for passage.

Ling Qi and Bai Meizhen took seats near the center while Li Suyin parted from them with a hurried bow to seat herself nearer the front. Seating herself, Ling Qi was glad that her borrowed writing case unfolded into a tray that could be laid across the lap as the benches offered no writing surface.

She spent a few more minutes of idle chat with Meizhen as the rest of the disciples filtered in, but soon enough, she fell silent as she felt the pressure of a great presence from the center of the room. The light dimmed, and luminous mist rose from the bubbling pool at the grotto’s center, quickly resolving into the shape of a man. The figure that resolved itself from the mist was ancient and unsettling.

The elder, clad in plain silver robes without ornamentation, was more visibly old than any cultivator Ling Qi had ever seen. His wispy, snow white hair spilled down to his shoulders, matching the long, carefully groomed beard that hung to his waist. His face was a labyrinth of wrinkles, and his eyes had the milky cast of a man blind with age, albeit one with a luminous amber light burning in his pupils.

Most unsettlingly, he seemed not all there. At regular intervals, slow pulses of light traveled through his form, outlining his bones in radiance while his flesh seemed to fade into mist. It was as if she were looking at a ghost.

<Forget one foot in the grave. That guy is already lying down!> Sixiang laughed in her head, drawing a hurried mental shush from Ling Qi. Who knew if the elder could hear the spirit?!

The elder had appeared from the mist seated in a lotus position, hovering just above the surface of the water, and he regarded the gathered disciples in silence, stern, heavily wrinkled features giving way to a skeletal rictus before fading back in, only for the cycle to repeat.

“I am Elder Hua Heng.” The Elder’s voice was dry and scratchy as if from long disuse, and it echoed as if rising from the bottom of a deep hole. “My final years are upon me. I have chosen to spend them spreading knowledge to new generations. Be grateful,” he said . Despite the scratchiness of his voice, he had the cadence of a professional lecturer. “You will not speak while I am lecturing nor interrupt in any way,” he ordered. “There will be a time allotted for questions at the end of the session. Am I understood?”

The chorus of confirmation from the disciples seemed satisfactory to Elder Hua.

“Then allow me to begin the lecture on advanced qi theory,” he began smoothly as the last voices fell silent. “You are, each and every one of you, a cultivator who has either reached the third realm or will in the near future. A significant number of you will even achieve the fourth or perhaps, higher realms. As such, it is important to ground yourself in the deeper lore of how qi functions. The simple pattern imitation of lower realms will not avail you as you advance toward the peak of the third realm and beyond.”

Ling Qi carefully transcribed his every word, her brush flying across the page with a speed and grace that would have been impossible for her mere months ago.

“The first piece of knowledge that you must scribe into your mind is that qi is fundamental to all things.” As the ghostly man spoke, ribbons of water rose from the water beneath him, twining around his seated form in an intricate display of control. “It is the clay from which we were shaped by the hands of Those Who Were, and it is the true form of all things. The earth and the sky are composed of qi, as is the flame and the heavenly bolt.”

The mist and the waters shaped themselves above and around the elder, shaping a scene of two indistinct but titanic figures locked in battle with innumerable things of terrible shape.

“However, this world is impure. Stained by the blood and essence of those who sought our destruction ‘ere the world was born, it is riddled with toxin and corruption. Age, disease, all the maladies of the mortal condition are born from this impurity. The art of cultivation, then, is expelling ever more of this impurity until the body and soul are fully cleansed.” His scratchy voice rang out over the silent grotto as the shapes in the water and mist faded, splashing back into the pool.

“It is a task beyond the vast majority of us,” he continued, gesturing to himself. “All things in this world are composed of qi and impurities, and straining out the whole of the latter is a task only the most talented may ever accomplish.”

Ling Qi nodded along as she copied down his words. The truth of cultivation had not been laid out so clearly to her before, but she had picked up the gist of this over the past year.

“This truth leads to our subject matter proper. Arts are exercises and patterns of qi which bring about certain effects. Once created and refined, they may be copied by the less talented or powerful to shape the world according to the method of the art’s creator. This is accomplished by expelling qi through the shaped channels carved by your efforts through the morass of corruption which separates the soul from the physical world. The exact shape of the channel and numerous other factors determine the effect, but they also limit the number of patterns a cultivator is capable of making use of,” Elder Hua continued. “Over time, carving new channels becomes nearly impossible, but the complexity of the patterns needed for powerful arts continues to rise.”

Ling Qi had worried over this problem as she grew better at puzzling out the requirements for her arts.

“However, the patterns used in arts are just that, structures designed to create an effect. In the third realm, a cultivator has the potency of spirit to shape these flows more directly and personalize them for greater efficiency. In the end, no pattern made by another will match one cultivated and tailored to oneself. Thus, the focus of my lectures will be on giving you the tools to do so for yourselves going forward.” He raised one hand in a gesture for them to pause. “However. It is unwise to attempt to reshape your meridians before the threshold stage of Green Soul. Do not attempt direct manipulation of meridians before then. Until that time, satisfy yourself with simply making your arts more efficient.”

Ling Qi leaned forward eagerly as the elder continued to speak, launching into an explanation on the meditative exercises a cultivator could perform to discover and refine the inefficiencies in an art they practiced.

Threads Chapter 2

Ling Qi carefully blotted the ink on the last string of characters describing the qi circulation exercises they were to practice before the next lecture. Elder Hua’s form was already dissipating into mist, and the low buzz of conversation among the disciples was resuming, even among those nearby. It seemed that the initial reaction to Meizhen’s presence had been one of surprise for the most part.

“Ling Qi,” Bai Meizhen spoke, catching her attention. “What are your plans for this week?”

Ling Qi blew on the drying ink one last time and looked up. “I’m not sure. I’ll be cultivating at night and in the evenings, but I don’t really have my days planned out yet. I was going to be discussing that with Lady Cai later, I think.”

“I see,” Meizhen replied, pursing her lips as she stood, her white gown shimmering like water under the pale light in the grotto. “Will you be visiting the town in the foothills?”

Ling Qi nodded, beginning to pack up her utensils and notes. “I’ll want to visit my mother sometime, sure.”

“Inform me when you intend to do so, and make plans for a further stay before or after your visit,” Meizhen said crisply. “There is someone I should be introducing you to.”

Ling Qi blinked, pausing in her clean-up. Looking up at her friend, she felt a thread of concern. “... This isn’t a marriage thing, right?”

She saw a flicker of horror in Bai Meizhen’s eyes. “No, of course not. It is only one of my lesser branch cousins. Certain things need to be made clear,” she replied hurriedly.

Ling Qi let out a breath of relief. She had thought maybe something had been arranged for Meizhen, but that was fine. Since she knew Meizhen wouldn’t specify any more about this meeting in public, she replied, “I’ll let you know tomorrow then.”

Bai Meizhen gave her a small nod, and they parted ways as Ling Qi finished packing. Weaving through the crowd, Ling Qi soon caught up to Li Suyin in the paved plaza outside the grotto.

“Wait up, Li Suyin,” she called to catch the blue-haired girl’s attention.

“Ling Qi?” Li Suyin replied, sounding befuddled as she stopped and turned around. “Is there something wrong?”

Ling Qi felt a pang at the response. Did they not get together after almost every lesson in the Outer Sect? She supposed they had drifted apart a little in the second half of the past year.

“Nothing, nothing,” she reassured Li Suyin, falling into step beside the shorter girl. “I just thought it might be fun to catch up a little, and you could show me what you’ve been working on. I’m curious, you know?”

“Oh? I don’t mind at all,” Li Suyin said with a smile. “We’ve both been so busy, so…”

“Right?” Ling Qi agreed with relief. “Besides the horror project, we haven’t had much time to talk.”

“It really was a fascinating project, wasn’t it?” Li Suyin replied wistfully. “I’ve managed to repurpose the scout formation a bit since then as well. If you would like, I could show you.”

“Sure,” Ling Qi said as they took one of the paths leading up the mountain, filling the air with chatter about Li Suyin’s work on developing the Ossuary formations away from their roots.

Like Ling Qi, Li Suyin ranked above eight hundred and fifty, and so she too had a single home set into the side of the mountain without immediate neighbors. Their abodes were identical in layout and design, though the scattered notes and formation designs that littered the place gave it a much more lived-in feel than hers.

As the smaller girl led her back toward the workshop, Ling Qi decided to fill the silence. “How did things go at the tournament anyway?”

For a moment, Li Suyin looked puzzled, but then understanding dawned. “Father was distraught and angry at my injury,” she answered with a sad smile. “Mother and I talked him down from attempting to file a legal suit against the girls involved. It would not help given our relative positions.”

Ling Qi grimaced. She wasn’t a legal expert at all, but that was obvious to her. Even if Imperial law technically gave mortals the right to do that kind of thing, it was useless for even a wealthy mortal family to go against a noble clan without an equally ranked backer. “They weren’t too mad at you though?”

Li Suyin shook her head, turning to open the workshop door. “Mother was put out with me for deceiving them, but… she understood, I think. We spoke of it.”

Ling Qi nodded and didn’t press further. Anything further would be private. She moved to follow Li Suyin into the workshop, only to pause on the threshold. The interior had already been much changed compared to her own home. Hammocks of spider silk hung from the web-coated ceiling, and even the walls had been buried under a layer of silken threads. On the unwebbed surfaces, dozens of tiny rodent skeletons scurried about, small objects grasped in their bony jaws, while others stood completely still in neat rows around the room’s perimeter.

“You’ve really spruced the place up,” Ling Qi said dryly, carefully stepping inside to avoid crushing the tiny assistants.

“It is all thanks to Zhenli,” Li Suyin replied cheerfully. “Zhenli, I am back, and we have a guest!”

Ling Qi looked up at the sound of chitin scraping against chitin. In the far left corner of the room, the webbing grew into a bulbous nest as large as a full grown man. From it emerged her friend’s spirit. The last time they had met, the spider had been small enough to fit in her palm. Now, the arachnid was the size of a small cat, and pale pink chitin and the thick fuzz that grew from it shimmered with a rainbow of hues. Li Suyin’s spirit beast had reached the peak of the first realm now.

“Zhenli greets Sister Suyin,” the spider’s voice whispered in the back of Ling Qi’s skull. Her jaws worked and her frontmost limbs wriggled warily as her attention turned to Ling Qi. “Zhenli greets the Ling Qi and the moonchild too.”

“Don’t pay me any mind,” Sixiang said, seemingly awakened from the bored quasi-sleep they had sunk into during the lecture. “Grandmother doesn’t stand on ceremony, and neither do I. Just tell your kin to keep the good stuff coming for the next party!”

“Zhenli will pass the message.” The spider let out a high-pitched physical chitter, turning her attention to a bemused Li Suyin, who was looking curiously at Ling Qi. “Does Sister need Zhenli for anything?”

“No, it’s fine. You can return to your preparations. I wish you luck,” Li Suyin answered, earning another chitter in response as the spider practically dove back into her nest. “Zhenli is going to be breaking through soon,” she said, answering Ling Qi’s unasked question.

“You better watch out, or she’s going to surpass you,” Ling Qi teased.

Li Suyin grimaced. “I have neglected my base cultivation recently, haven’t I?” she lamented. “I intend to fix that soon. I cannot afford to idle away in the second realm now that I have ended up here somehow.”

“Somehow, nothing,” Ling Qi scoffed, taking a seat on one of the benches and scattering the skeletal servitors in her wake. “You earned your place.”

“Perhaps,” Li Suyin replied with a self-deprecating smile as she moved further into the room to examine a tray of familiar, carved bone wands. “Anyway, who was Zhenli speaking to there?”

“Ah, I guess I’ve never introduced you,” Ling Qi said self-consciously. “My second spirit, Sixiang, is a bodiless moon muse. Speak up, will you, Sixiang?”

“Well, if I have permission,” Sixiang huffed. “Hello there! Your little friend’s family produces some interesting stuff for mine is all.”

“I see,” Li Suyin said, still seeming unsure. “In any case, you were interested in my project, right, Ling Qi?”

“Yeah, I’m not an expert, but a whole lot of people who were, seemed really interested in your work,” Ling Qi expanded.

Her friend hesitated before opening a drawer and removing a small glass-covered case. Turning back to face her, Li Suyin brought it over to the table she was seated at. Inside the case were six black spheres, each perhaps two centimeters across. “Su Ling and I discovered a cave several months back. The sinkhole in the forest seemed to have opened it up,” she explained.

“Did it now?” Ling Qi asked with concern. “Wasn’t that closed off by the elders?”

“We did not go in until after it was opened again,” Li Suyin reassured her. “The cave was more of a shaft leading straight down for some distance, but at the bottom, we discovered a cave inhabited by all sorts of strange creatures. We harvested a large number, but we did not explore far. The beasts grew stronger very quickly as we went further down.”

“Those are cores then?” Ling Qi asked, peering down at the black balls. Somehow, they didn’t seem like it.

“That’s just it. They didn’t react like cores at all,” Li Suyin gushed. “They poisoned and ruined every mixture we tried to use them in.”

“So what are they then?” Ling Qi asked. “And how did you find a use for them?”

“Well, I had noticed that their aroma resembled that of the impurities flushed out during a cultivation breakthrough,” Li Suyin continued cheerfully. “As it turned out, that was the key. These cores are saturated with impurity, but it is possible to strain it out with certain processes. The remaining material acts like a magnet or a sponge afterward, drinking in impurities it comes into contact with.”

“What is the rest of the talisman for then?”

Li Suyin glanced to the side, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. “They control the forces inside the core. Without regulating formations and Zhenli’s web straining the impurities going in, contact with an empty core will rupture and poison flesh at and near the point of contact. It is very… messy.”

Ling Qi grimaced. She got the picture. “That explains that. Have you told anyone else?”

“I had a conversation with Elder Su regarding my project,” Li Suyin replied. “She said that the creation was incompatible with her Way but also that it seemed safe to proceed. I have been given dispensation to keep the source and materials secret for a ten year period while I develop my work, after which the Sect will begin letting other disciples experiment. Of course, if they discover it on their own…”

“Good for you, Li Suyin!” It sounded like she was going to have a good foundation built before anyone else in the area could try muscling in on her discovery. “Do you think you could get better materials further in?”

Li Suyin blinked. “I suppose, but…” She trailed off, and understanding lit in her eyes. “Would you?”

“I’m not sure when I’ll have some time, but it sounds like an adventure,” Ling Qi laughed, but internally her mind was racing. The idea of an open cave under that sinkhole set something in her gut ill at ease, and the last words of the barbarian shaman echoed in her memory.

‘Let the black spirits and the Gnawing Ones curse your very bones.’

It could be nothing - the elders had even intervened, after all! But perhaps it would be a good idea to lend a hand, and get a look at just what was in there. For Suyin’s sake, if nothing else.

“You could probably get a poem or two out of it, maybe even a song,” the spirit chimed in smoothly, covering for her momentary lapse in attention.

Li Suyin bowed her head. “Thank you very much. I still have to wait for my dispensation to process among other things, but I will look forward to your aid.”

“None of that, Li Suyin. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Ling Qi said cheerfully.

Ling Qi remained with her friend for some time after that, their conversation turning to lesser projects like Li Suyin’s work on improving her silk guards. Soon enough, it was time for Ling Qi to go. She had an appointment to keep with Cai Renxiang.

***

Cai Renxiang’s dwelling further up the mountain was not much larger than her own, Ling Qi thought as she approached the door set in the mountainside. At Rank 810, Cai Renxiang lived in the tier above Ling Qi. Stepping up to the wooden portal, she knocked once and settled in to wait.

She was not left for long. The door soon swung open, revealing her liege standing behind it. The passive corona of light which shone behind her head cast her shadow over Ling Qi. “Welcome,” she said crisply, stepping aside to allow Ling Qi entrance.

“Thank you for your invitation,” Ling Qi replied politely, giving the proper bow for a vassal greeting their liege before stepping inside. The front room of Cai Renxiang’s domicile was about the same size as hers but better furnished. She suspected that the girl herself was the source for that though given that the room had been arranged to look rather more like an office than a sitting room.

“I copied the elder’s lecture as you requested, Lady Cai,” she said as the shorter girl closed the door and swept past her, returning to the desk laden with sheaves of paper and scrolls set up against the far wall. “Have you made progress on your own projects?”

“All of our necessities have been arranged for and filed,” Cai Renxiang replied. “And I have reviewed my resources and available intelligence. I will be prepared to attend our honored elder’s lessons on the morrow.”

Ling Qi waited a moment for her lady to take her seat before taking her own. “Thank you for your efforts,” she said. “What intelligence are you referring to?”

Cai Renxiang accepted the writing kit and notes as Ling Qi passed them over the desk before responding. “Information from disciples loyal to Mother, of course,” she said as she absently glanced over the notes. “Your calligraphy is improving. Continue working hard.”

Ling Qi grimaced, getting the real meaning. Her chicken scratch was readable now, but her writing was not at the level expected of a noble. “Thank you. Am I going to be out of a job then?” she asked lightly.

Cai Renxiang glanced up from the notes. “No. The disciples have been instructed to limit their aid,” she answered.

Of course. Ling Qi wanted to sigh. The Duchess would not make anything easy for them.

“That is not to say we are without benefits,” Cai Renxiang continued crisply, setting the papers down. “My allowance has been expanded significantly. I also have a package containing spirit stones and medicines for your use. I will give it to you when you take your leave.”

“I did not expect any less,” Ling Qi said with some relief.

“I promised benefits, and I will not break my word,” the other girl said . “I have also instructed the head of the Cai family’s archive to search out arts which may suit your inclinations. That may take some time to complete, and the results will be limited. I may only take so much of the Head Archivist’s time and resources.”

Now, Ling Qi felt almost embarrassed. “You are too generous,” she said awkwardly. “I… Ah, did you have any tasks in mind for me then, Lady Cai?”

Cai Renxiang leaned back in her seat, the light playing around her shoulders shimmering on the silk of her gown. “I will be holding monthly gatherings to build my influence in the Inner Sect. I will expect you to attend.”

“Of course,” Ling Qi replied. What fun, she thought glumly, but at least she could…

“You will be providing the entertainment,” her liege said bluntly, shattering her fantasies of hiding in a corner. “There is little point in wasting your talents. Your musical ability is a superior tool in the Inner Sect environment. I do expect you to keep your ears open, however, and to continue improving your other abilities.”

<Hmph. She can at least see what good taste looks like,> Sixiang murmured in Ling Qi’s head, almost startling her.

“I will do my best not to disappoint your expectations,” Ling Qi replied.

“I trust you will not,” Cai Renxiang said confidently. “Other than that, do as you do. Make personal connections, and of course, should you overhear anything of interest…”

“So make friends and eavesdrop,” Ling Qi said wryly. “You give me the most difficult tasks.”

Her liege gave her a flat look over her steepled fingers. “You jest, but stripped of its pomp, is that not the task of the spymaster?”

Ling Qi was glad that Cai Renxiang had recovered from dealing with her Mother. She had not liked seeing the other girl shaken and uncertain, and a return to Cai Renxiang’s dry humor was welcome. “I suppose it is,” she agreed lightly. “Is there anyone in particular I should be on the lookout for?”

“Extend a hand to Xuan Shi,” Cai Renxiang said. “He and his clan are both amenable to connection, even if he himself has fallen from my circle.”

Ling Qi’s eyebrows rose. She hadn’t even been aware of that happening. “Was there some dispute?”

“No, not as such.” The light the other girl gave off rippled, sending the shadows in the room dancing as she frowned. “Our paths simply diverged.”

Ling Qi hummed but didn’t press the issue. If Cai Renxiang thought it would impact her task, she would say something. “What do you think of Shen Hu?”

“Your opponent from the preliminaries?” Cai Renxiang asked. “He is a scion of a small baronial clan in Meng territory. No one of great importance, but I suppose his personal skill makes for a useful connection.”

“I’ll follow up on that chat I had with him then,” Ling Qi said. “I don’t really know anyone else though.” She could search out her prior tutors, she supposed. She wondered what rank Ruan Shen or Liao Zhu held.

“That will be your task then. Discern those who you feel you might connect with,” Cai Renxiang ordered.

“Consider it done. When will your first gathering be?” Ling Qi asked.

“I am uncertain,” the other girl admitted. “There are too many factors yet. I shall inform you once a date is set.”

She would just have to learn a few more songs in her free time so that she would actually have a variety of songs to play as entertainment. “I will leave you to it then,” she decided. “Do you think you will have time for a cup of tea soon?” she asked innocently.

Cai Renxiang raised an eyebrow. “Shall I ask now what devilry you have in mind?”

Ling Qi huffed. It had come out mechanically, but that had definitely been a joke. Some niggling part of her sometimes wondered if the other girl was just getting better at imitating the behavior Ling Qi thought of as friendly. “I thought it would be relaxing. Besides, did you not say that you would teach me about tea blends? You made it seem very important.”

“And you expect that I shall serve you tea? How arrogant,” Cai Renxiang said imperiously. For a moment, Ling Qi felt concerned, looking at the girl’s affronted expression, but then, the corner of the stiff girl’s lips quirked up. “I suppose there is only one individual capable of not burning the leaves present. Tasks should be divided by merit.”

Ling Qi narrowed her eyes at the other girl. She wasn’t sure how pleased she was to see Cai Renxiang able to fool her like that. She bowed her head deeply. “This humble vassal apologizes for her inability,” she said aloud, allowing a sarcastic edge to touch her voice.

The shorter girl made a brief sound of amusement before turning her eyes back to her desk. “I shall be sure to remove that inability. You will have to entertain yourself until I have completed these last forms. Confine yourself to this room.”

“That makes me wonder what my Lady is hiding,” Ling Qi mused, but her liege ignored the minor jibe. Sighing, Ling Qi stood and drifted over to one of the bookshelves, flipping through one of the less weighty tomes there as she waited for her liege.

Bonus: The Great Diviner

So it was that in the year of the White Rush, the mystic Tsu, alongside his companion, the Horned Lord, returned from his long journeys to rejoin the people of his birth. Where he quested, none can say for certain. It is only known that he had traveled beyond the great mountains of the Wall. The mystic brought back with him much knowledge: the secrets of the sun, moon, and stars; the ways of the seasons; and the secret tongues of wood and earth.

Wise beyond measure, the fruits of his knowledge soon became clear. Those who heeded his wisdom found themselves able to raise food from the same ground each year, ending the people’s wandering. Those who submitted themselves to his pacts became not just people of the forest, but kin to it. Freely did the ancient growth grant them abodes among their boughs and branches, so long as the correct ceremonies were conducted. With his wisdom did the people learn the pattern of storm and flood and turn them to their use.

It was thus that Tsu became the Diviner, first King of the Forest People.

Many forces took notice of this. The cruel folk of the northwestern fen came on the rivers to raid and steal, and the Dragontouched of the Celestial Peaks came to bluster and demand tribute. Those who wandered, the men of hill and mountain and cloud, clashed with the forest people, whose new ways obstructed their paths. These, the Diviner dealt with handily, his foreknowledge and wisdom allowing him to gather warriors to their places long before attacks could arrive.

But it was not men which would truly test the Diviner. The great forest was old, and its groves were deep. The forest people were few, and the beasts were many. Nor were all kin of wood and earth of friendly mien. Even in bygone days when dragons ruled from their heavenly cloud cities upon the Wall, Lords and Gods of Beast had risen to clash with them and lay ruin upon the earthly realms.

But the dragons were long dead or driven to hiding, and new gods had risen in the Emerald Seas. They were the twelve gods, who, between them, commanded all the beasts of the world. They were cruel and capricious creatures and proud beyond measure. The twelve gods had warred and fought leisurely since the time of the dragons fell and in their shadow, humans lived their lives escaping notice.

Yet this situation could not continue to be, for it is the nature of humankind, firstborn of Those-Who-Were, to grow and rule. The gods’ notice of humankind came first in small things. The cloud people made pacts with the red-maned horses of the Wall, and the hill folk and the wolves of the southwest made their peace, and this did irk the Wolf God and the Stag God upon whose dominion the humans infringed.

Yet it was Tsu and his people who truly gained their ire for they changed the land upon which they lived, making it strange and alien to beasts. Yet even this was not enough to unite the fractious gods’ ire.

It was the union of the descendants of Tsu and the Horned Lord which did that. The Stag God, already viewing the Horned Lord as a rival, saw in the birth of the first generations of the Weilu a plot for his power. At last stirred to full wrath, he came, and the forest shook with the beat of hooves.

He fled not a week later, trounced and wounded by the wit of Tsu and the Horned Lord.

Wounded and humiliated, the Stag God made suit to his peers, and though they were inclined to mock his failure, the fact of his defeat did raise a deep concern in their hearts that a human would dare to strike a god.

Long did the Stag God appeal, whispering of the rise of man. In the northwest, it was said that the Great White Serpent had accepted a human mate, and in the mountains and rivers, the Stone Ape had begun to teach the humankind the ways of war. In the east, the great phoenix tribe had adopted a human son!

Clearly, the world was in decline, and something needed to be done.

After three cycles of the moon, the council of the gods finally ended, and the beasts of the great forest marshalled for war.

In his kingdom, Wise Tsu knew that war was coming. It showed in the embers of campfires, the entrails of beasts, and the quivering of eager stars. The King and the Horned Lord were mighty and of great wit, but against what was whispered in the stars, no cleverness could prevail. The people of the forest were yet small, not grown to their potential.

So it was that the Diviner left his halls to journey once more. To the tribes of the hills he went and spoke to their quick-tongued lords. To the folk of the frozen peaks he went and took council with their harsh queen. To the people of the clouds he went, soaring to join their councils in the sky.

The time of suffering was coming, he said, and showed them the signs. The gods were enraged, and their jealousy would not stop with him. Though these people were often foes, they, too, had seen the signs of growing wrath. The gods, always cruel and haughty, had grown worse with each passing decade. Rare was it the year that would pass without the loss of camps and tribes.

But the folk of the clouds refused outright to hear of the Diviner’s plan, for they lived in the sky and were blessed by the stars. Let the gods come, said they, and the fate of dragons would be theirs.

The folk of hill and mountain were both less haughty and less mighty, and in the waning days of winter, it was with them that the Diviner made compact with.

Spring was coming, and with it, war.

They would meet it upon the roots of Xiangmen, eldest of the forest.

- Excerpt from a surviving chronicle from the pre-Imperial Emerald Seas

Threads Chapter 3

It was about a half hour later that she found herself seated across from Cai Renxiang at the little table in her home’s kitchen with a steaming cup of dark brown tea being placed in front of her. It had an invigorating, earthy scent with a hint of sweetness.

“You added honey?” Ling Qi asked, for once recognizing a scent. She had stolen jars of the stuff once or twice. It was expensive and kept well, and easy to hide until it could be fenced.

“The Primeval Root blend is incomplete without a small spoonful of Cloud Blossom honey,” Cai Renxiang replied from her seat. Seeing her with her eyes closed, inhaling the scent of the tea, Ling Qi could almost mistake her for being a normal, relaxed girl.

“Throwing out names like that,” Ling Qi said slyly. “You should have told me it was a cultivation aid.”

Cai Renxiang cracked one eye open to give her a disapproving look. “It is not. The medicinal blend has a terrible flavor and uses a different subspecies of the plant.”

Ling Qi huffed in disappointment but took a tiny sip anyway. It had a very rich flavor, which she had to admit was tasty. It still seemed a bit of a waste. “What is with those names then?”

“The tea leaves only grow upon the hills formed by the capital city’s root network, and the honey arises from the bees kept in the fourth stratum cloud gardens,” Cai Renxiang explained, taking a sip of her own.

“I definitely want to see that place one day,” Ling Qi said, struggling to picture a tree big enough to be a mountain. She had always been aware of the dark shadow on the northern horizon when she lived in Tonghou, but she had never really considered what it was. “Why is tea so important in Emerald Seas, anyway?”

“It is, in truth, a holdover from the days of Weilu rule. Their founder, Tsu the Diviner, mastered the secrets of weather and seasons, allowing his people to grow their food from the earth. Tea plants were among the first domesticated this way. Those early blends were of practical use. They fortified the drinker’s health and warded off sickness.”

That made sense. Even she knew that boiling water helped remove some of the impurities that could make a person sick. If someone could make it have medicinal value and taste good at the same time, why not? “So it’s a habit that stuck around since then?”

“In simple terms, yes,” Cai Renxiang replied. “It became a mark of status to grow especially flavorful and desirable plants on one’s land, and remains so to this day.”

Ling Qi hummed to herself, taking a deeper drink from her cup. It did have a certain relaxing effect. “So it’s another thing like swords then... “ she mused aloud. “You seem more passionate about it than a mere obligation would imply though.”

Cai Renxiang did not answer, and as the moment stretched, Ling Qi looked up to find the girl wearing a troubled expression.

“... Mother does not care for tea making,” the other girl. Her ever-present corona of light died down to a bare flicker as she toyed with the handle of her teacup. “She recognizes its value. So she does not reprimand me for the practice, but it also holds no interest to her. It is something I enjoyed, even as a small child.”

Ling Qi nodded in understanding but didn’t say a word. She could read between the lines of what had been said well enough. As the silence began to get heavy, Ling Qi put on a smile. “You’ve certainly gotten good at it. Are there any other interesting blends from the capital?” she asked.

Cai Renxiang gave her a wry look that said that she knew exactly what Ling Qi was doing. “Of course. Some of them may even interest you. In the fifth and sixth stratum, there are…”

Ling Qi leaned forward and took the pot, pouring herself another cup. She’d have to ask Cai Renxiang to put up the death-aspected mirror she had found in the Weilu tomb for auction later, but this wasn’t such a bad way to spend the afternoon.

***

“You know, I don’t think I ever congratulated you on winning the production tournament,” Ling Qi thought aloud, swaying back and forth with the motion of her ride.

Gui trundled along cheerfully beneath her while Zhen’s warm coils rested comfortably around her shoulders like a heavy scarf. Keeping her balance on his shell might have been tricky, once, but as she was now it was no more difficult than tying her boots in the morning.

Beside her, Xuan Shi strolled, the rings on his staff jangling with every step. He had gotten a new one with rings of carved white jade hanging around a decoratively forged head of gleaming bronze. The body of the staff looked to be carved from stone. “Are not sweet words meant to come before the call for aid?” he asked, looking at her over the high collar over his robe.

Ling Qi felt embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do not be mean to Big Sister,” Zhen hissed from above her shoulder, turning his burning gaze on her companion.

“This one is aware of Baroness Ling’s foibles,” Xuan Shi said dismissively. He seemed more confident and at ease than the last time she had met him, his speech a touch less impenetrably flowery. “This one meant no offense.”

“You can just call me Ling Qi. Thank you again for your help,” Ling Qi said. “If you need help with something yourself, please ask.”

“This one will consider the use of thy favor carefully, O herald of the riptide,” he replied, amused.

“I will choose to take that as a compliment,” Ling Qi said with faux haughtiness.

<I think you need one of those little fluttery fans to pull that off. Maybe you could ask Xiulan for one?> Sixiang mused teasingly.

<Maybe another time,> Ling Qi replied, giving Zhen a quelling look as he began to rear up to glare at the young man beside her. If Xuan Shi wanted to banter, she wasn’t inclined to stop him.

“Thy mercy is as boundless as the heavens,” he replied, unruffled. “Then, might this one inquire as to the status of thy lady’s other hand?”

Ling Qi frowned, adjusting her balance as they started down a hill. “Gan Guangli has his own task, and the rules of the Sect mean that what can be done to aid him is limited. I have left him my pill furnace for his use, and Lady Cai will fund his cultivation. Were you friends?” she asked curiously. She hadn’t spent much time with either boy.

“The right hand is a man of honor whom this one respects. He has been a friendly ear, at times,” Xuan Shi said, a touch of regret entering his voice.

“The big man was nice,” Gui agreed guilelessly, with all the earnestness of a child.

“I suppose he was,” Ling Qi said. She would just have to hope her fellow retainer was able to tough it out. She was leery of the idea of a replacement for him chosen by the Duchess in Cai Renxiang’s circle.

“If it’s not rude,” she continued carefully, “might I ask why you grew more distant from us?”

Xuan Shi reached up, tilting his shell patterned hat downward and shadowing his face further. “This one grew busy with his projects and… realized the foolishness of certain childish impulses. Let it rest at that.”

<It’s not like this guy is blind. He probably saw that it was pointless to pine after that,> Sixiang muttered.

Ling Qi frowned, quickly working out what Sixiang was talking about; there was only one person the usually jovial Sixiang referred to in such a manner. She didn’t think Sixiang was messing around. Had Xuan Shi really been interested in Cai Renxiang like that? Nevertheless, she nodded, dropping the subject as he requested.

“In any case,” she continued after the silence stretched on, “how big should I expect my little brother to grow by the time he’s done?”

“Gui will be like a mountain!”

“Zhen will be big enough to eat the stupid river eel.”

Xuan Shi chuckled, giving the now bickering heads of her spirit beast a sad look. “Perhaps in time,” he spoke over their non-verbal squabbling. “For a Xuan Wu reaching the earliest stages of maturity, his shell will be between seven and ten spans of Imperial measure from front to back.”

Between seven and ten meters, Ling Qi thought, her eyes widening. That was… quite big. “Just how big do Xuan Wu grow?” She had read some things, but she had assumed embellishment on the author’s part.

Xuan Shi’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “As great as mountains and more. The clans of Xuan live and work upon the backs of our cousins, more than the lonely stones of the true islands of the Savage Seas.”

“Huh,” Ling Qi said, looking at Zhen, who looked smug. She flicked his snout playfully, and he let out a whining hiss of complaint. “You’re still a ways from that, little brother,” she chided.

“Gui will grow fast! So big that Big Sister and Little Sister and Hanyi and everyone else can live with him forever,” Gui asserted with childish confidence.

“He will not disappoint,” Xuan Shi said quietly, glancing at Zhengui with a look that was difficult to read.

“Fishy man can visit if he brings treats,” Zhen said haughtily.

Fishy man? Where in the world did that name come from? Xuan Shi’s aura was solidly a thing of earth and rock.

“Be more polite, Zhengui,” she scolded. “I am sorry for his behavior, Sect Brother Xuan,” she said, bowing as politely as she could manage from her perch.

“Think nothing of it, and if thy name is open for use, it would be rude to withhold mine,” Xuan Shi said, tilting his hat back as he peered up at the next hill. “This one believes that our destination is nigh.”

<D’aww. Look at you two dorks,> Sixiang laughed. <You should invite him back home for tea as a thank you.>

Ling Qi rolled her eyes, not bothering to respond to the moon spirit’s teasing.

Ling Qi looked up at the wide low hill rising before them. The rocky soil was dotted by tall trees with long trunks, and steam rose from cracks in the stony earth. Thick scrub brush grew over the rest, giving it a mix of dull green and brown colors. The faint scent of smoke seemed to cling to the air and the natural qi alike. A glance to her left and right saw small formation totems lining the base of the hill marked with characters for the containment of fire.

“It smells good!” Gui chirped, startling her as he began to trundle forward faster.

Well, it might not be pretty like the vale Heizui lived in, but she supposed if her little brother liked it, this place was fine. “So, what should we do first?” she called back to Xuan Shi.

The boy picked up his pace, the rings on his staff jingling. “Thy little brother shall dig his nest. It will be our task to find the choicest cuts from the wood,” he said almost cheerfully.

“Do not forget tasty cores for Zhen,” the other half of her little brother hissed. “Lazy Gui will chew on trees, but not Zhen!”

Ling Qi laughed as his two heads fell to bickering again. Thankfully, her storage ring was full of quality second grade cores and even a few low grade third ones. Feeding Zhengui had been starting to strain her budget, and it was only going to grow more expensive when he made the jump to the third realm. The Cai taking on the expense was quite a boon.

The rest of the morning and much of the afternoon was spent on that hill. Ling Qi worked together with Xuan Shi to carve and move cuts of qi-infused wood to the edges of the ever deepening pit Zhengui was digging for himself. She was rather displeased when her little brother’s digging pierced an underground valve, releasing both boiling water and the unchecked scent of sulfur into the glade. Watching him splashing around happily in the growing pool of hissing, bubbling water at the bottom of his nest did take the edge off the acrid smell, however.

Xuan Shi showed good humor about the whole thing, for which she was grateful. She wondered just what had happened to affect his demeanor so, compared to last year. Perhaps he had earned enough praise from his family to boost his confidence? It was not her business to pry.

There was a certain satisfaction in the simple labor of cutting supple strips of wood and brush alongside Xuan Shi and weaving them together into blanket-like mats. She wasn’t particularly good at it, but with the scholarly boy’s slow, even voice instructing her, she was able to successfully create patterns and characters which enhanced the natural flow of qi through the whole construction.

Building up stacked logs around Zhengui's burrow like a tower for a massive bonfire was much more difficult. Even if she could lift a whole log, moving it around was a whole other matter. It was far too ungainly to manage without Xuan Shi's help. At least the gobbets of mud kicked up by Zhengui's digging were useful in packing the whole thing.

By the time the sun was fading from the sky, they were both splattered with mud, sawdust, and bits of plant matter, although Ling Qi’s gown remained unmarked, having cleaned itself meticulously. Zhengui rested invisibly at the bottom of his burrow, covered by layer upon layer of woven branches and brush from which smoke was already beginning to rise. All she could do now was wait for her little brother to finish his breakthrough.

The days that followed quickly became routine. Elder Hua’s lessons continued, and she learned to her chagrin that she had been making things harder for herself all of last year as his lessons touched upon the proper way to read the information encoded in jade slips. She had stumbled upon it in dribs and drabs during her previous year’s cultivation, but in the future, she would not have to stumble into the workings of her arts with so much of a blind eye.

There were physical lessons as well. Sadly, they were not taught by Elder Zhou, but Ling Qi quickly took to refining her physical cultivation, which had been left by the wayside somewhat in her rush to polish her arts for the tournament to enter the Inner Sect. Between picking up the workload of the lessons and completing the rest of the work to settle in, it was nearly a week in before she found herself with the free time to travel to the Sect village.

Threads Chapter 4

“Breathe in. Breathe out. Feel the flow of the qi pulsing in time with your heartbeat,” Ling Qi repeated soothingly. She sat with her mother on the veranda overlooking the garden behind the home the Sect had provided. The early light of a new day shone over them.

Her mother sat across from Ling Qi, eyes closed, her lined features scrunched in concentration. Faint red light shone from between her fingers, the only sign of the red spirit stone clasped in her hands.

“You can do this,” Ling Qi murmured. “You are doing it. You just need to keep trying.” She could feel qi, tiny shreds of it, sinking into her mother’s almost non-existent aura, and with each one, her mother felt a little bit more solid, a little bit more real, to Ling Qi. She couldn't lie to herself. Ling Qi was pushing the older woman on this as much for herself as for Ling Qingge’s sake. She knew she didn’t want her mother to disappear again in a mere few decades.

Ling Qi was so focused on encouraging her mother’s efforts that she almost missed the tiny disturbances in the air that indicated that someone else was stirring nearby. Ling Qi glanced to the side as the sliding screen that separated the interior from the veranda slid open a crack.

“Good morning, Biyu,” she said cheerfully, meeting the little girl’s sleepy, curious gaze.

“... Morning, sis-sis,” Biyu mumbled. Her hair was loose, and seeing her in her rumpled sleepwear, it struck Ling Qi again how small and fragile she was, even compared to her mortal mother.

Ling Qi put on a smile and held out her hands. “Come here. It’s still cold, isn’t it? Why are you up so early?” While the temperature was no trouble for her, she could see the goosebumps on the little girl’s arms. The shawl and blankets her mother was wrapped in only made it more obvious.

Biyu nodded and made an agreeing noise, toddling over to plop herself in Ling Qi’s lap. “Lights made the dreams run away,” she said blearily, leaning back against Ling Qi as she wrapped her arms around the little girl.

“Dreams, huh,” Ling Qi said softly. <Sixiang, did you sense anything?> she thought, just a little sharply.

<Just the normal stuff. Nothing malicious,> Sixiang replied in amusement. <Children’s dreams are a nice place for my littlest cousins to get started.>

“It was fun,” Biyu said with a yawn. “It was warm, and there was a river! We were playing…” Her soft features scrunched up in thought. “Um… I don’t remember.”

“That’s fine,” Ling Qi tussled her sister’s hair. “Do you hear dream things when you’re awake, Biyu?”

“Mhm,” the little girl said, nodding her head. “Momma said not to listen to the leafy voices. ‘Cause they’re mean.”

“Mother is right,” Ling Qi agreed. Even if the little spirits of the forest weren’t necessarily malicious, they didn’t have a human’s best interests in mind. “If you ever hear one that’s really mean, even in your dreams, just tell Big Sister, and she’ll beat it up for you.”

<Ling Qi, nightmare puncher,> Sixiang drawled in her head.

Biyu made a cheerful sound of agreement, wiggling a bit in Ling Qi’s lap as she began to wake up more. “Is Momma sleeping?” she asked.

“Mother is practicing,” Ling Qi gently corrected.

“Oh! Can Biyu play with the shiny rocks too?” she asked excitedly, looking up at Ling Qi with a shine in her eyes.

“Not until you’re older,” Ling Qi said with a grin. “Those are grown-up toys.”

The little girl puffed out her cheeks in annoyance, and Ling Qi ruffled her hair. She looked again at her mother. Mother would come out of her fugue soon; the light shining from between her hands was fading.

“You’re doing well,” Ling Qi said as her mother opened her eyes. A brief look at the stone in her mother’s hands showed that it was not yet used up.

Ling Qingge gave her a tired, weak smile. “I am beginning to grow more used to this,” she agreed quietly. She had not objected to being given more stones in some time; Ling Qi was glad that she had worn her down in that regard.

“That’s the spirit,” Ling Qi said cheerfully. “Why don’t we head inside? I asked the housekeeper to put some breakfast on a little bit ago. I bet this one is hungry,” she added, poking her little sister in her pudgy cheek, drawing a giggling protest.

Her mother’s expression was thoughtful, even as she nodded in agreement. Ling Qi stood smoothly and offered her mother a helping hand to do the same as they gathered the blankets and headed inside, preceded by a chattering Biyu.

“Have you settled in well, Ling Qi?” her mother asked as they entered the dining room where three places were set out. It was a simple meal of congee with a sprinkling of rousong and a few strips of fried pastry placed on the side for dipping, along with warmed milk.

It was simple fare, but Ling Qi knew her mother was uncomfortable with the richer sort, and Ling Qi hardly minded. For her, the food was essentially a snack regardless. “Yes, although I don’t intend to stay in one place for long,” she said brightly.

“Ah, that is right. You change homes with your rank. How troublesome that must be,” her mother replied absently as she seated Biyu.

“We only move when we change tiers. It would be too troublesome otherwise,” Ling Qi agreed. “But as I said, I don’t intend to stay in my current tier for long.”

“My daughter is ambitious,” Ling Qingge said, fussing for a moment over Biyu’s disheveled look before silently deciding that it would be better to get her cleaned up and dressed after breakfast.

“I have to keep up after all,” Ling Qi said, thinking of Cai Shenhua’s burning gaze. She held in her shudder, and her family didn’t notice. “How are things in the village?”

“I have made... a few acquaintances at the market,” Ling Qingge replied after a moment of hesitation, smoothing her plain gown as she sat down herself.

“No one to play with,” Biyu grumbled around a mouthful of pastry. “Boys are dumb.”

Ling Qi shot a look of amusement at her little sister. “I’m glad you're settling in. We’ll be here for a couple years yet.”

The next few moments passed in companionable silence.

“Ling Qi, might I ask of you something?” her mother asked, surprising Ling Qi.

“Of course,” Ling Qi replied, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically given the way her little sister looked up from her meal, startled, a spot of congee on her cheek. Even her mother looked taken back. Too enthusiastic indeed.

“I had hoped that you might allow me authority over the household budget. The Argent Peak Sect handles things well, of course, but…”

Ling Qi had left all of that to the Sect staff who had been assigned to the house, wanting her mother to be able to live without worries, but she understood now that having everything taken care of may have been overdoing it. “I will put in notice for it,” she said agreeably. “I didn’t want you to have to work, but I understand.”

“Thank you, Ling Qi,” her mother said tentatively. Biyu returned to her breakfast, losing interest in the conversation again.

<I just don’t understand humans sometimes, volunteering for boring stuff like that,> Sixiang commented absently.

“There’s something else though,” Ling Qi said, eyeing her mother’s expression and ignoring her spirit.

“You are perceptive,” Ling Qingge replied with a self-deprecating smile, her eyes resting on the table. “It is a selfish request, but… do you think it may be possible that I might hire some acquaintances from Tonghou? I assure you, they are all good young ladies whose families merely fell into misfortune. The Sect staff will not follow us after all, and it is important that you have a proper household…”

Ling Qi leaned back in her seat, understanding why her mother called this a selfish request. The people she referred to were obviously ones who had shared her profession. Ling Qi was no expert at noble politics, but even she could see that something like this could be damaging to her reputation.

Ling Qi hesitated. She could do it, she knew. She had enough credit with Cai Renxiang that something like this would hardly cause the heiress to reprimand her, but was it worth making her family's life more difficult?

Ling Qi disliked the idea of bringing even minor harm to her family for the sake of strangers. But while they were strangers to her, they were not to her mother. Could she who clung to her friends so tightly rightly chastise her mother for doing the same? She was hardly in a position to judge their character preemptively. It was pure luck that she herself was not still scrabbling in the streets of Tonghou.

That was the trouble with forming connections with others, Ling Qi thought. Each bond tied her to a wider network still.

<Congratulations. You’ve rediscovered the roots of this whole ‘civilization’ thing,> Sixiang teased.

<Hush, you,> Ling Qi thought, giving her spirit the mental equivalent of an annoyed swat. “You’re going to have to make it clear that this isn’t going to be easy,” she said aloud. “We’ll be heading to the border in a couple years, you know?”

“I am aware,” her mother replied. “Yet, my daughter, can you say that you would not have taken that chance?”

That was fair, Ling Qi thought, glancing at Biyu as the little girl looked back and forth between them, not quite comprehending the serious atmosphere that had descended. “I won’t condescend to you about responsibilities, Mother,” she said finally. “I know you understand.”

She wasn’t concerned about her mother’s management skills. Ling Qingge had always been good at squeezing out the full value of every copper penny in their little household. This was a bigger project, but having learned more of her mother’s background, she was certain that she had education in such matters.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” she said.

“Thank you, Ling Qi,” her mother said, bowing her head.

“None of that,” Ling Qi said uncomfortably. “Are you thinking of anyone I know?” she asked curiously.

“I doubt you would recall names,” Ling Qingge replied with a small smile, raising her head. “That was never your strong suit.”

<She has you there,> Sixiang drawled.

Ling Qi coughed into her hand self-consciously. “... Perhaps. In any case, I will take care of the background work. I will leave the letter writing to you.”

Ling Qi could think of a few ways to spin things and give the move some public respectability. She would run them by Cai Renxiang later as well, but for now, she was just glad to see the content expression on her mother’s face.

She spent the rest of the morning with her family, chatting with her mother, reading to Biyu, and otherwise allowing herself a short time of relaxation. Ling Qi could not afford to do so too often, but she remembered Elder Su’s lessons. It didn’t do to lose oneself entirely in cultivation.

***

As morning turned into afternoon, Ling Qi took her leave. She had another appointment to keep. Her path took her well outside the village to a travelers’ inn that sat a few kilometers down the road that led further into the province.

Meizhen wanted to avoid disturbing the village, Ling Qi thought wryly as she entered. She hoped her friend’s fine control caught up to the raw power she had cultivated into her domain soon. The inside of the inn was homely, but well kept, with polished wooden floors and undamaged furniture.

She paid her respects to the innkeeper, a wizened stick of a man at the peak of the second realm with a full white beard and many, many scars. From there, she received directions up to the room that her friend was currently occupying. It wasn’t hard to find, being one of only two rooms on the third floor. The formation work that wound around the stairwell, absorbing spiritual energy from above, was rather professionally done. She couldn’t so much as sense a hint of her friend’s aura until she reached the third floor.

Taking a deep breath, Ling Qi stepped up to the closed door, loosened her grip on her own aura to ensure that Meizhen could sense her, and knocked. She could feel a second presence inside, but her friend’s aura rather overwhelmed it, preventing her from getting a feel for this “cousin” just yet.

“Ling Qi, you may enter,” she heard Meizhen call from the other side of the door. Ling Qi’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She had expected her friend to be more stiffly formal with one of her family present.

Still, she opened the door and stepped inside the meeting room without hesitation. The room was windowless and lit by a series of fireless lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Its center was dominated by a heavy polished table surrounded by nearly a dozen chairs. Clearly, this was a room meant for larger meetings.

The ones she had come to meet rose from their seats to greet her, and Ling Qi gave Bai Meizhen a polite bow of greeting before turning her gaze to the other person present. This new Bai was… different.

Where Bai Meizhen was a head shorter than her and the very picture of imperial grace and beauty, outside of her odd coloration, this girl was whipcord thin and almost tall enough to look her directly in the eye. Her features were narrow and had a subtly inhuman cast. Her brows were hairless with a ridge of fine black scales taking their place, and her lips had a faint blue tinge. Less obvious signs included the precise shape of her eyes and contours of cheekbones, all of which leant the other Bai an air of inhumanness. Ling Qi was quite sure that she would have found it unsettling a year ago.

Like Meizhen’s, the other Bai wore her hair long, but her hair was a silky black and had been gathered into a number of braids, two hanging in front of her ears and the third making a long tail that reached her lower back. Ling Qi could see the metal glinting among the braided strands. Some kind of weapon, perhaps?

The other Bai’s gown was, unsurprisingly, one of the standard Argent uniforms, although the underlayer of the gown was black. The girl’s expression was studiously neutral, and she was of the early second realm. Ling Qi could tell that the girl was studying her intensely.

She offered the second Bai a somewhat shallower bow and smiled as she shut the door behind her. “Bai Meizhen, thank you very much for your invitation.” She followed her friend’s lead, and sure enough, the younger Bai bristled, a flash of irritation crossing her bright yellow eyes.

“Ling Qi, I am very glad you came,” Bai Meizhen replied evenly. “May I introduce my cousin, Xiao Fen?”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Xiao Fen said stiffly.

“I am pleased to meet you as well,” Ling Qi said. If she had to compare the two Bai, Bai Meizhen was a towering serpent, hood unfurled, radiating fear and majesty, while this girl was a tightly coiled viper, hissing in furious warning at the human whose foot had just landed in its burrow.

“Have a seat. I have arranged for drinks to be brought shortly,” Bai Meizhen said, paying no mind to their mutual staring contest.

Ling Qi nodded politely as they moved to take their seats. “I am curious. How are you cousins if you do not share a name?” That might have been mean, she supposed, given the way the younger girl nearly twitched.

“We do not follow imperial convention in that regard,” Bai Meizhen answered. “The eight branches of the Bai clan are as one. We do not cast them off as separate clans. Her full name would be Bai Xiao Fen. I consider her my cousin regardless.”

“You do me honor,” the other girl murmured, briefly taking her eyes off of Ling Qi. The look she gave Meizhen was difficult to read, but Ling Qi found herself relaxing a little. Whatever this girl was, she didn’t hold any ill will toward Meizhen.

Threads Chapter 5

“It would be foolish to insult the devotion of the Black Viper with less,” Bai Meizhen said. “Regardless, allow me to make the full introduction. Bai Xiao Fen, this is Ling Qi. She is my best friend. I would like you to treat her with utmost respect.”

Ling Qi froze at that blunt declaration, and across from her, the younger girl did the same. “Ah, Meizhen, are you sure…?”

“Xiao Fen can be trusted,” Bai Meizhen said with finality. “Though we are both younger than usual for this pairing.”

Uncertainty still roiled under the surface of Xiao Fen’s expression, even as she drew herself up. “Of course. I would not reveal my cousin’s… business,” she replied with affront.

“I will trust your judgement,” Ling Qi said slowly. There was a backstory here, but this wasn’t the time for it. “In that case, allow me to repeat myself. I am glad to meet you, Xiao Fen. It’s good that Meizhen has someone else she can trust.”

The girl twitched again when she used Meizhen’s name with such familiarity, but nonetheless, it didn’t reach her voice. “It is good that my cousin has dependable allies,” she said a touch woodenly. “Cousin, the business you mentioned,” she added desperately.

<Man, she’s kinda thrashing to stay above water there, isn’t she?> Sixiang mused. Ling Qi had to agree. The younger Bai was clearly very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

“Ah yes,” Bai Meizhen said, giving the younger girl a look that told Ling Qi she was aware of Xiao Fen’s flailing as well. “In the future, once the initial truce has ended, Xiao Fen will be placing tutoring requests. I would like you to answer those, Qi.”

There was that twitch again. She was beginning to worry after Xiao Fen’s health. “I do not mind,” Ling Qi began in confusion, “but I am not certain how helpful I could be to someone of the Bai clans.” She paused. “Ah. This is about Gan Guangli, isn’t it?” Ling Qi asked.

“As a matter of furthering our alliance against the vile Sun,” Xiao Fen replied, seeming to regain a bit of her balance, “my Cousin has asked that I align myself with his block when the time comes.”

“And us meeting during tutoring is a deniable way to pass information around,” Ling Qi thought aloud. She took another look at the dark haired girl. Xiao Fen’s aura was steeped in darkness around a core of cold fire. Yeah, it would be believable on a surface level that the tutoring would be legitimate.

“Among other things. I trust that you will convey my intentions to your lady?” Bai Meizhen asked.

Ling Qi nodded. Sun Liling was a spiteful girl, and she had no doubt that the Outer Sect would continue to see meddling this year. “I look forward to working with you then,” she said, turning her gaze back to Xiao Fen.

“I will be in your care,” Xiao Fen replied. If the younger Bai had been less self-controlled, Ling Qi thought she would have grimaced. “Do you have any advice for success in this… Sect?”

Ling Qi thought back over the previous year and everything that had happened. “Find some people you can trust, and stick with them.”

“Quite,” Bai Meizhen agreed. “Unprecedented situations sometimes call for unprecedented solutions. Heed her, Xiao Fen.”

The younger girl glanced uneasily between them, and they fell silent as they felt the approach of the server, coming with their drinks. It was strange, Ling Qi thought as she accepted the cup of rich cider. She had turned her friend into quite the radical by the standards of the Bai.

<I’m so proud of you,> Sixiang laughed.

Conversation turned to lesser subjects, discussing their cultivation plans in the immediate future and trading commentary on the lessons given thus far. It was she and Bai Meizhen who carried most of the dialogue. Xiao Fen spent most of the rest of the meeting observing them both with a hooded gaze as if she weren’t quite sure what to make of what she was seeing.

They parted ways after another hour or so, and Ling Qi turned her thoughts back to cultivation.

***

Cultivation consumed Ling Qi in the weeks that followed. This first month was peaceful as no rank challenges to the new Inner Sect disciples were allowed, and with the majority of her social obligations settled for the moment, Ling Qi took advantage to steadily work her way towards Appraisal, the second stage in the third realm, and to cultivate her personal cultivation art, Eight Phase Ceremony. Ling Qi achieved the sixth phase of it, consolidating the boons granted by her second moon patron, Hidden Moon.

That was not to say that she forgot her upcoming social obligations. During her spiritual meditations, she brought her mind back to the hazy memories of the moon revel and the feeling of being on stage, performing her music for so many. She had to be ready to fulfill her duties at Cai’s upcoming party, and with Sixiang’s occasional murmurs of advice, she found herself gradually growing more confident in her ability to impress her liege’s guests.

Sadly, she could not spend all of her time cultivating. While she was content with her current contribution points for the moment, the more expendable Sect points in her possession were not something she had in great supply. If she wanted access to the Sect’s best medicines, tutors, and other resources, she would have to pay for them, and so, Ling Qi found herself taking errands, mostly those that involved stealing into a beast’s or spirit’s dwellings and acquiring reagents without doing any harm.

It was relaxing in its own way, and with every carefully arranged acquisition, she felt her understanding of the Grinning Moon’s lessons sharpening. The joy of the acquisition was a goal in and of itself. Freed of the desperation of her youth, Ling Qi could enjoy the simple rush that came from sneaking into places she was not meant to be.

In her free moments, Ling Qi cultivated the Argent Genesis art she had been given, and it came easily to her. Where the first Argent cultivation art had prepared the body for the strain of early breakthroughs, the Argent Genesis cultivation art was focused upon building a foundation for the third realm, including a strong domain. Its first level was a preparatory step in that direction.

For Ling Qi, the thing that felt like the greatest drain on her time was her time searching the archive. The Inner Sect archive, at least the part she had access to, was a sprawling complex with many wings, each one filled to the brim with scrolls, jade slips, and books. There was some arcane method of organization to the thing, fiendishly complex in execution.

In fact, her first day’s task was just to decipher that organization. The Sect officials presiding over the archive had been irritatingly unhelpful; apparently working out how to find anything in that mess was an unofficial test for new disciples. Still, after several hours of searching through whispering mazes and occasionally quelling a rowdy spirit or two, she finally found her way to the books which described the workings of domains and the modification of arts.

The subject was far deeper than she had anticipated. Shelf upon towering shelf was dedicated to the minutiae of art development, and there were entire texts full of dense diagrams and equations regarding qi flows and pulses, half of which didn’t even seem to be written in any Imperial dialect she knew. Eventually, she managed to find more friendly texts, by which she meant books that didn’t try to bite her with fangs made of mathematical symbols.

With those in hand, and the most recalcitrant tomes turned over to archive attendants for quelling, Ling Qi was finally able to begin her study properly. She needed to be at the third step of the green realm to make any progress in art alteration; it simply wasn’t possible to pick out the individual fluctuations in an art’s pattern well enough to make changes before then.

Each element and concept of an art was a component to its function. They were like the tiny gears in a clockmaker’s construction. The trick was to change the pattern and arrangement of the many components without causing the whole thing to break. The first step was to recognize the exact arrangements and movements of qi that represented the different components.

It was a meticulous and time-consuming process, and it had uncertain results at low levels of cultivation, but Ling Qi thought there was merit to doing so. However masterful the moon arts were, they were not a complete art suite. Inevitably, she would still have to rely upon the Sect’s archive arts to fill in any gaps in capability, and it was unlikely that such arts would map directly to her style or needs. Art modification could potentially allow her to mold the archive arts to better suit her.

With that understanding, Ling Qi was able to move on to her secondary objective. Now that the tournament was over, she could clear out arts in her repertoire which were growing outdated or didn’t fit her style. This included the Zephyr’s Breath art, the Argent arts, aside from the cultivation art, and the Abyssal Exhalation art. She was going to seek out arts from the Archive to replace those and to bolster her art suite with capabilities that she now had a need for.

While searching the archive’s library of arts, Ling Qi had come to realize that Imperial cultivators ran arts to socially perceive connections and bonds between others, just as a cultivator would perceive connections between opponents in battle. Arts like Covetous Wraith’s Yearning, which sought insight from spirits of darkness that clung to existence under the rays of the morning sun, enabled a cultivator to understand the desires and bonds between those in their sight in both the battle and social arena and to influence that desire if they wished. It was interesting, but the art appeared too similar to Lonely Winter Maiden, that art Zeqing had warned her off of for fear of contamination. Besides, while Ling Qi would not forget her roots, she had also seen the dangers of acting too greedily in relationships with her friends.

Ling Qi also came across some arts that would help bolster her stealth in combat. Of these, she was most taken by the Ephemeral Night’s Memory art, which was inspired by the passing fancies dreamt of in the late hours of the day. The art appeared to sever memory so that even important details, such as the cultivator’s presence, could slip from the opponent’s mind. Ling Qi had used Sable Crescent Step as her stealth art previously, but more and more, it functioned as her combat dodge art, and moreover, it had no techniques to reestablish stealth once she broke out of it to engage in combat.

Another art that caught her eye was Curious Diviner’s Eye. Apparently intended as a foundation art for divining, it was an art clearly influenced by the seeking nature of the Hidden Moon and a descendant of the arts of the Great Horned Sages. And since the Weilu had fallen, the arts of the Great Diviner had spread far and wide so Curious Diviner’s Eye was likely to have multiple successor arts.

The last of the arts that attracted her attention was Harmony of the Dancing Winds. This musical art, inspired by the complex dance of winds that brought weather and seasons, taught its cultivator how to see and pluck at the lesser patterns and connections in the world, revealing the web which connected all things.

Ling Qi picked up jade slip copies of the Ephemeral Night’s Memory, Curious Diviner’s Eye, and Harmony of the Dancing Winds arts. While she didn’t have time yet to cultivate them, perhaps she could in future months. All in all, Ling Qi was quite happy with the Sect’s archives, coming away with three potential arts to introduce into her repertoire.

Threads Chapter 6

Ling Qi played, and Ling Qi listened.

The song was, to her, nothing spectacular. It was one of the many pieces she had composed with Sixiang’s advice over the past month during the idle hours in the early morning when the stellar and moon qi had grown thin but the day’s lessons had not yet begun.

<You’re welcome,> Sixiang whispered.

Ling Qi restrained herself from rolling her eyes as her fingers danced along the length of her flute. She thought the song, which was filled with the feelings of looking out over the mist-drenched mountains and the lowlands of the Sect’s nearby surroundings, had turned out well. Not cheerful, perhaps, but she thought she had managed to work in the faint wonder at the sight fairly well.

<It suits you. A song doesn’t have to be peppy to be cheerful,> Sixiang murmured, humming along in her head.

Ling Qi agreed. This was a nice compromise between her and Sixiang’s styles. It was still a simple piece though, so she did not need her full attention to play its notes. Instead, she fulfilled the second part of her job.

While she was far from a master spy, and most of the guests were too well trained in basic caution to let anything truly important slip, there was still plenty of small talk and gossip to be had. She heard who was closed door cultivating, who was rumored to have had good fortune, and who was working on a new technique. While those nuggets of information on her fellow disciples held some passing interest to her, it was the more social rumors she paid more attention to at Cai Renxiang’s request. She learned who was friends with who, who was feuding, and other such frippery.

She would be glad when this gala was over so that she could write it all down. However, amidst all the idle noise of a noble gathering, there was one thread of information that she found most intriguing.

Sun Liling was no longer the heir of the Sun family.

The position had been given over to one of her great-uncles, or so rumor had it. Word was fuzzy on the new heir’s exact relation. The official word was that this was so Sun Liling could focus upon her cultivation without the weight of the position as heir distracting her. Ling Qi wondered what the actual situation was, but she could hardly follow up on it here nor were the disciples likely to have any insider insight on the matter. Still, the disciples were abuzz discussing the rumor, even if it was all useless speculation.

Soon, her current piece came to an end, and Ling Qi stood, offering a bow to the gathered disciples to the sound of scattered, polite applause. As she raised her head, she met the eyes of the performer who would be taking her turn next, giving Ling Qi a chance to have a breather and mingle a bit.

“Senior Sister Bian,” she greeted the girl who had once tutored her.

“A lovely performance, Junior Sister Ling,” the pretty, older girl replied, her smile hidden behind her veil. The Bian oversaw the rolling fertile hills formed by the capital city’s roots and were a direct vassal clan to the Cai. As such, she had aligned herself firmly with Cai Renxiang. “Will you allow me the stage for a time?”

“Of course, Senior Sister,” Ling Qi replied with a smile that wasn’t wholly false. The girl was nice enough when it came down to it, even if she didn’t know her very well.

Stepping down from the raised stage, Ling Qi wove her way into the crowd as the older girl’s rich voice began to ring out. Bian Ya was doing a series of poetry readings, if Ling Qi remembered the plan for the evening correctly.

<And you aren’t even going to listen,> Sixiang huffed. <Language has its beauty too, you know?>

<Maybe so, but that’s more your thing. Anyway, you can recite it back to me later, right?> Ling Qi thought, earning a jab of playful irritation from the muse in her thoughts before the spirit’s attention shifted away. She turned her attention to the refreshments, interested in getting something to drink before seeking out some company to unwind. She still had another performance to give later in the evening.

As she approached the refreshments table on the far side of the room however, she found her path blocked. Well, perhaps it was inaccurate to say blocked, more like the path was impeded. Ling Qi was growing used to this tactic being used on her when a noble wished to ensure a conversation with her. She would have to rudely brush past to ignore the young man in front of her, which, of course, she could not do. So, she slowed her pace as she approached, just like a proper lady.

“Junior Sister Ling,” the young man greeted with a mild dip of his shaved head. “A fine performance indeed. You shame musicians years your elder.”

Ling Qi searched her memory for his face. Middling height, fairly handsome, expensive green robes embroidered with plant imagery, and eyes that reminded her of… That was it. A peek at his aura, a still lake underlaid with a faint poisonous scent, confirmed it.

“Senior Brother Wen,” she greeted back, bowing her head a bit lower than he had, as was appropriate since Wen was both her senior and a count scion. “You are too kind.”

Ling Qi only vaguely recalled her previous conversation with him. Wen Cao, an older brother of Wen Ai, had been one of the well wishers at the ceremony following the tournament. It had been nothing but pleasantries and hadn’t stood out to her then, except for the fact that he was related to someone she didn’t much care for.

“And you are too modest, Junior Sister,” he said, turning and moving from her path. It allowed them both to proceed toward the refreshments. He had a smooth sort of voice, the kind that old instincts made her instinctively distrust. “How have you found the Inner Sect so far?”

“I will accept Senior Brother’s praise then,” she replied evenly, pulling on her experience with Meizhen’s demeanor. The aloofness was much easier for her to pull off than Gu Xiulan’s style of chatting. “I have enjoyed the Inner Sect so far. It seems a much more stable environment than the Outer Sect.”

“The Outer Sect is somewhat uncivilized, isn’t it?” Wen Cao mused as they reached the table. “Such is tradition though. It does do its job of weeding out the unready.”

Ling Qi nodded agreeably as she accepted a cup from the server, one of the Sect staff made available for this kind of event. She restrained a grimace at the scent; it was some kind of fruity drink. She vaguely recalled Cai Renxiang mentioning that this particular drink was popular in Celestial Peaks. A sip confirmed her thoughts. Too sweet.

“I expect the Inner Sect will grow more exciting once challenges resume,” she said politely. “Does Senior Brother Wen have any advice in that regard?” She still had no idea what he wanted. The Wen’s land sat across a major southern pass in Ebon Rivers, so maybe he was just doing the standard tactic of buttering up Cai Renxiang through her subordinates.

“Challenges are an interesting mechanism,” the Wen scion replied, weighing his own cup in his hand. “Given the unusual talent of your graduating class, you are somewhat more secure than the usual newcomers. I would suggest accepting the first few challenges which come your way. Proving your mettle will reduce frivolous attempts.”

“I will keep your advice in mind, Senior Brother,” she said.

He gave a shallow nod, looking back into the crowd. “Have you kept an eye on Junior Brother Yan, Junior Sister?”

Ling Qi blinked at the seeming non-sequitur. She had taken a glance or two his way over the month, but Yan Renshu seemed like an outright shut-in. She suspected the disciple was still rebuilding that “face” puppet of his that had been destroyed in the raid she had participated in with Cai Renxiang and Gan Guangli.

“I had hoped that the grudge between us was laid to rest. He has not made to cause any trouble with me,” she answered.

Wen Cao hummed. “How merciful of you, Junior Sister. Appropriate for a retainer of the Cai.” Ling Qi controlled her urge to narrow her eyes; she felt like he was subtly taking a jab at her. “I would warn you, however, that Junior Brother Yan is a petty and vindictive man, as I am sure you know. I implore you to keep an eye upon him.”

This conversation was very strange. Why would a count scion, seemingly praised for his genius at cultivation, focus so much on a random incoming disciple? They weren’t even competing in the same arena; Wen was no crafter. A fragment of a memory came to her. Hadn’t Fu Xiang mentioned that Yan Renshu had been ruined his first year for offending a scion of the Wen?

“Senior Brother’s concern is welcome. I will, of course, remain cautious. Bai Meizhen did teach me something of how enemies are to be treated,” she said coolly.

“Is that so?” Wen Cao asked with a charming smile. “Then there is little to worry about. If you require advice on the matter, do seek me out. I would be glad to aid a retainer of the Cai.”

“Junior Sister Ling thanks Senior Brother Wen for the offer,” she replied.

“I am glad,” he said, giving a brief bow. “If you will excuse me then, Junior Sister Ling.” Wen Cao moved off into the crowd after she had murmured the proper pleasantry back

Ling Qi looked into the crowd. Hah, she had gotten through that without coaching from Sixiang. She was learning. Still, she would rather find someone more familiar to talk to before she got roped into another polite back and forth.

Scanning the crowd, she glimpsed Gu Xiulan chatting with a rather cornered-looking Shen Hu near the rear wall of the great cloth pavilion the party was taking place in. The scruffy boy had cleaned up somewhat, Ling Qi noted as she began to weave through the crowd to reach them. His tangled, twig-strewn hair looked like it had recently had a comb pulled through it, and the great majority was tied back behind his head with a ribbon. He also seemed to have acquired a shirt somewhere, unfortunately.

She didn’t pay much more attention to the boy’s simple brown and green clothing because Xiulan drew her attention more. Her friend had another new gown of course, but there was a surprising, notable shift in the gown’s color scheme. Xiulan’s old red and gold favorites remained at the hems and in the embroidery, but she seemed to have chosen a garment with electric blue and white for today’s outing.

From the back, Ling Qi could also see that Xiulan wasn’t wearing her veil. Unsure of what to think, Ling Qi peered beneath the veil of the physical, only to nearly flinch. Xiulan blazed like the noonday sun, a blinding core of blue-white heat beyond any simple fire shining in her senses, but all the same, it seemed less wild and more contained than last she had seen the girl. Ling Qi grinned as she let the vision fade. Her friend had fully broken through into the third realm.

“Xiulan!” Ling Qi called as she approached. “I am so glad you could make it!”

Ling Qi didn’t miss the look of relief Shen Hu gave her as Xiulan turned around. Here, too, was another surprise. The ugly black scars which had lined XIulan’s face had.. changed. The marks had faded to a pale blue shade that only stood out lightly from her pale skin, smoothing out and gaining a patterned look. At a first glance, they were barely visible, but upon a second examination, it seemed almost like the lines of a fearsome war paint.

“Ling Qi,” her friend greeted, preening under the attention. The confident smirk that Xiulan had worn in their early interactions was now back after a long absence. “I see you have finally come to an accord with Lady Cai on your role in this sort of thing.”

“It was my lady’s suggestion,” Ling Qi replied with a grin of her own. It felt good to see Xiulan without the edge of desperation which had colored the last few months before the New Year’s Tournament to enter the Inner Sect. “But I enjoyed the results. What did you think, Shen Hu?” she asked, not wanting to be rude by shutting him out from the conversation.

“It was a pretty song,” the boy said with an agreeable nod. “It really made me want to explore those mountains too.”

Xiulan blinked, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? What do you mean, Sect Brother?”

He looked back with confusion and a hint of wariness. “... The song. It was about the mountains south of here, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Ling Qi agreed, surprised. Her music was an expression of thoughts and feelings, but she was still surprised that Shen Hu had been paying enough attention to actually read her intent beneath the trappings of physical sound. “I’m flattered that you were paying such close attention.”

Gu Xiulan let out an amused laugh. “Hmph, is that why you were so distracted from our conversation, Sect Brother Shen?” she asked sweetly. “Entranced by my friend's song?”

Ling Qi’s eyes met Shen Hu’s over the shorter girl’s head, and she saw the recognition there. Good. He knew a trap when he heard it.

“It was good,” Shen Hu said honestly. “I just didn’t know what to say about your match, Sect Sister.”

“What were you two talking about?” Ling Qi asked, deciding to intervene before Xiulan could needle him further. “I didn’t think you two knew each other.”

“Oh, I was only curious,” Xiulan replied, giving her an amused look that told Ling Qi that she was fully aware of the byplay. “We were speaking of the tournament, and I was interested as to his presence at this party. This hardly seems like your kind of venue, Sect Brother.”

Shen Hu glanced away, scratching at his collar uncomfortably. “Well, Grandad was a woodsman before Dad got the title to our village. So, I’m not sure how a lot of this goes. Aren’t I supposed to make nice with the boss’ daughter and show up when I get invited?”

Gu Xiulan let out a musical laugh, and Ling Qi gave her a quelling look. “I mentioned you to Lady Cai,” Ling Qi explained. “You said your family’s land was in Emerald Seas, right?”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” Shen Hu bobbed his head awkwardly but respectfully.

... Ling Qi felt like her expectations for what new baronial clans should be like had been skewed.

“How kind of you, Qi,” Xiulan said slyly. “Why-”

“So, since you’ve broken through, what are your plans going forward, Xiulan?” LIng Qi overrode her before the girl could start teasing, earning an irritated huff.

“My first goal is to challenge for a more appropriate rank as soon as we’re allowed to issue them,” Xiulan announced without shame, earning her more than one look from those nearby. “Without my handicap, my current one is far too low. What of you?”

Ling Qi studiously did not look at the withered arm Gu Xiulan held close to her side, wrapped in crimson linen and smelling faintly of smoke through her perfume. “I am not certain yet. I’ve received my pass to train with my mentor on the Outer Sect Mountain, so I think I’ll spend some time with her,” Ling Qi answered.

Although the cultivation sites which she had trained at during her time in the Outer Sect were, by Sect regulation, unavailable to her, Zeqing had apparently agreed to train Ling Qi at her home on the mountain peak, the Origin Temple of Winter’s Muse.

“You have a mentor in the Outer Sect? How does that work?” Shen Hu asked, sounding befuddled.

“She’s not a disciple. She’s the spirit that lives at the mountain peak,” Ling Qi explained.

Shen Hu blinked. Then, his eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, wow. No wonder that song you used on me in the preliminaries sounded familiar.”

“Yes, Qi certainly knows how to acquire… exotic resources,” Xiulan said, only a tiny edge of jealousy reaching her voice. “What of you, Sect Brother? Your plans?”

“Hmm. I’d like to explore, but I need to find people to fight if I am going to polish my arts,” he answered bluntly. “I got rusty fighting nothing but beasts last year.”

“I wouldn’t mind sparring with you, if you recall my offer,” Ling Qi reminded him, earning a smirk from Xiulan. “But I haven’t filed for permission yet.”

“Ah, right. We have to do that in the Inner Sect.” He grimaced. “It’s a pain, but if we have to.”

“You’ve gotten bold,” Xiulan sighed, looking at Ling Qi. “They grow up so fast.”

Ling Qi rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been that bad.

<Reaaaaaally now?> Sixiang drawled.

<Don’t you have poetry to listen to?> Ling Qi thought irritably, giving the spirit a mental swat. The last thing she needed was to get teased both externally and internally. Not letting her annoyance reach her face, Ling Qi gave Gu Xiulan a challenging look.

“Don’t feel left out, Xiulan. I’ve made sure to ask for permission to spar with you too,” she said sweetly, meeting the other girls gaze head-on.

“How forward!” Xiulan laughed, masking the sound behind her frilly sleeve. Xiulan really could pull off that high class laugh in a way that Ling Qi couldn’t. “I shall look forward to the challenge - if you believe you are up to it. Perhaps I might even join the two of you!”

Shen Hu was looking vaguely worried again, like a hunter observing a pair of dangerous beasts. “... Well, thanks, Sect Sister Ling,” he said awkwardly. “I should probably, uh, go meet more people though. See you later?”

“Yes, later.” Ling Qi sighed, ducking her head respectfully as the boy practically darted away into the crowd. She turned a gimlet eye back to XIulan then. “You went and scared him off,” she accused.

“Oh, I can tell his type, A taciturn warrior, his mind wholly focused upon the tides of battle,” she said with a smirk. “And weak to a mere flutter of eyelashes. Shy even, one could say. Best to break him of it. Quickly.”

“You just like watching people squirm,” Ling Qi said dryly. She took another sip of her all-but-forgotten cup and restrained another grimace at the sweetness of the orange liquid.

“There is nothing wrong in taking enjoyment out of favors done,” Xiulan replied with a sniff.

Ling Qi rolled her eyes, but now that they were left alone, she let her expression grow more serious. “Xiulan, are you doing well?” she asked in a low voice.

Her friend’s eyes flashed with affronted pride, but it faded quickly. “I am,” she replied bluntly. “My path is clear once again.”

“I’m glad,” Ling Qi replied. “Do you-”

<Time to get back to the stage,> Sixiang whispered. <Break’s over.>

Gu Xiulan followed her gaze to the stage and gestured dismissively. “Be off with you then. This is your glory, is it not?”

“I wouldn’t quite put it like that,” Ling Qi said dryly. “Tomorrow, Xiulan?”

“I will look forward to it, Qi,” her friend replied. Ling Qi offered a shallow bow of gratitude and turned away.

There was a performance to finish.

Threads Chapter 7-The Bloody Dream 1

Ling Qi grinned as talons of black diamond ruffled her hair with the wind of their passing, and she faded back into the mist, eyes locked on her opponent.

Shen Hu doggedly followed her trail, eyes aglow with the colors of sunset, but he soon found himself lost in the mist again. Ling Qi was helping Shen Hu hone an interesting new technique in this spar. As Ling Qi circled him, casually playing her melody, she once again felt the brush of his qi as another pulse washed over the field they were sparring in. This time, the half-formed technique didn’t slide off of her, and the warm, placid qi stuck.

Shen Hu’s faintly glowing eyes immediately snapped to her, his right hand whipping up, and the talons he had been striking at her with broke away from his gauntlet with a sound like shattering glass, launching three gemstone daggers her way. Ling Qi twisted in response, smoothly avoiding the first two, while the third flew through her suddenly phantasmal shoulder, trailing black mist.

“Looks like you got it down,” Ling Qi said, lowering her flute and straightening up.

“Seems like it,” Shen Hu said with a satisfied grin, coming out of his combat stance.

<Uh huh, “he’s” got it,> Sixiang snorted, amused. <It’s definitely a spirit. That guy doesn’t have a drop of lake qi in his meridians.>

<Be nice. He hasn’t said anything about you brushing off his techniques either,> Ling Qi chided in her thoughts. If Shen Hu wanted to maintain the pretense that his second spirit didn’t exist, she wasn’t going to be rude and press the matter. Out loud, she said, “You’re getting better at working the throws into your style too.”

“Not good enough though,” he grumbled as his gauntlets crumbled into sparkling dust. “The big attacks are too draining, but the little ones are still too slow and awkward.”

“Or I’m just too fast,” Ling Qi replied just a little cockily. Xiulan was a bad influence on her.

“Or you’re just too fast,” he echoed agreeably. “Your qi just never runs out, does it? How did you cultivate it so much?”

“You know I can’t answer that,” Ling Qi said wryly, waving away the last dissolving strands of mist, allowing the morning sun to once again shine down on the grassy field. The four stone pillars sitting at the corners slowly stopped humming as the formations carved into their surface powered down with the qi of the battle fading. She had to hand it to the Sect. Training fields that blocked any outside observation beneath the fourth realm were a great salve to her paranoia.

“I guess so,” Shen Hu said. “Did you want to practice hitting me with something? I kinda feel like I’m taking advantage.”

“Like I said, I’m working on defense. Avoiding your attacks is enough,” Ling Qi dismissed. While she was nearing mastery of another stage of her Sable Crescent Step art, she also felt like her improvement was slowing down when it came to her mundane ability to avoid attacks.

<I’d say to look into Grandmother’s art but… you’re not there yet,> Sixiang commented.

“If you say so,” Shen Hu said, stretching his arms above his head before falling back into a combat stance. “So no mist this time?”

“No mist,” Ling Qi agreed, not quite looking at him. Xiulan really had infected her. Shen Hu could be distracting at times. “It’d defeat the point if you had to spend half of your time finding me.”

Shen Hu nodded, and Ling Qi let her meridians flood with dark qi. She wouldn’t let herself slow down now. Besides, sparring was more relaxing than most of her other responsibilities.

***

Between keeping up with her friends and now trying to make a new one, Ling Qi found that she had a very thin line to walk. She needed to reach Appraisal, the second stage of the green realm as quickly as possible. Not only would it safely allow her to use more green spirit stones and improve her base cultivation, it would also allow her to finally master many of her arts and begin working on the foundation of her domain in earnest.

Paradoxically, she found herself having to put off cultivation as she entered her second month in Inner Sect in order to improve it later. The reason was simple. The only thing she had truly lost upon entering the Inner Sect was the diversity of qi loci, cultivation sites, which she had discovered on the Outer Sect mountain last year. Her mentor’s home was a powerful focus of course, albeit one that she had limited access to, and the argent vent in her Inner Sect residence was generally useful, but still, she found herself slowed in several areas with the lack of proper cultivation sites for some of her elements.

Ling Qi put to use the map of the Sect she had been given by Xin to discover new ones. She surprised herself when she ended up inviting Shen Hu along to help her push through the wilds to investigate the locations on the map, but he had said that he was interested in exploring during Cai’s party last month.

Ling Qi still remembered her trouble with something as simple as bringing Su Ling to search for sites with her and Li Suyin. Had it only really been just a year? She really had changed since those days.

Shen Hu went along with her pretty easily, not even asking to see the map. She supposed that made sense though. If he had already intended to explore randomly on his own, what would it hurt to follow her lead?

Their first foray turned into more of a hunting trip. The location she had chosen from the map was practically overrun with beasts. It was a nesting ground for Hundred Year Cicadas, and after a few hours of swatting fist-sized bugs with oversized jaws out of the air, Ling Qi had gotten frustrated and just flooded the grove with mist. Her companion had taken care of the underground nests. Whatever site might have been there originally was gone, its qi drained away by the insects, but the creatures’ cores and wings could be sold for a small sum, so the visit wasn’t totally pointless.

... They probably would have gotten more if her mist phantasms hadn’t shredded so many of them.

Their next foray was a lot more fun. Hunting a pair of Stonetusk Boars felt like actual hunting, and it was even a challenge with them limiting themselves to art-less combat.

More importantly, the locations her map had guided her to still contained a couple of cultivation sites. The first was a convergence of several small streams, rich in water qi, which could serve as a nice meditation spot for some of her water arts. The second was even better. The stand of tall oak trees, planted in a complex pattern that turned out to be a qi-gathering formation, would be helpful with mastering her lone wood art, Thousand Ring Fortress, and assist in physical cultivation.

It was on the third and final foray that Ling Qi would be able to make this month that they found something odd. This location had been marked by a rearing stag with a moon disc held in its antlers on the map granted by the Hidden Moon. The symbol had given her a sense of danger, but there was no risk without reward.

“It smells like smoke,” Shen Hu said from below her, rubbing irritably at his nose as he peered down into the valley that lay before them.

Ling Qi was perched on a low tree branch, giving her a better vantage point. The area appeared like any other valley between the high hills, lush and green with a lazily winding ribbon of blue running through its center. Yet…

She agreed. It did smell like smoke, even with not a spark in sight.

“There’s no fire qi in the air or the ground,” Ling Qi said with a frown. “Can Lanhua feel anything?”

Shen Hu glanced down at the carpet of rippling mud beneath his feet; most of his spirit’s mass was merged with the earth, but she remained somewhat visible. “Nothing,” he said. “She can’t feel anything bigger than mice and bugs.”

This was alarming in its own right. A fertile valley like this should be heavily populated by spirits and beasts. <Sixiang?> she asked.

She felt the odd prickling sensation of the dream spirit pushing their presence out through all of her senses. <You found something interesting. There’s an old, old memory here.>

<An illusion? Do you think you or I could break it?> Ling Qi narrowed her eyes at the seemingly peaceful valley.

Sixiang let out a tsk. <No, silly. It’s a memory, a dream that’s still hanging over the place. You can’t dispel it anymore than you could dispel me.>

<So we can’t do anything then?> she thought irritably.

Ling Qi felt like the muse was shrugging. <You could head in and experience it. There’s power to be found in dreams after all,> they drawled. <Also, your eye candy is giving you a weird look.>

“Sorry. I was just lost in thought,” Ling Qi said, shooting Shen Hu an apologetic look. It probably looked like she had just spaced out.

“It’s fine,” he replied. “What do you think? I could head in with Lanhua. I doubt anything will take us out in one shot if it’s a trap.”

“I don’t think it’s a trap exactly,” Ling Qi began slowly as Sixiang fed her more information. “It’s more like... this valley is part way into a dream?” She felt Sixiang’s approving nod. “So we can’t sense things inside from outside.”

Shen Hu cupped his chin thoughtfully, but she saw a spark of excitement in his brown eyes. “Oh? I’ve never fought in a dream before.” He furrowed his brow. “Well, not that I remember anyway. Are you coming in?”

Ling Qi couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his eagerness. This guy. He would go in with nothing but his spirit beast and not a single scrap of information. Of course, she couldn’t say she was any better. She hated wasting time. There was never really any question as to whether she would brave whatever was ahead.

“Yes, I will. Bring Lanhua up. You’ll need to be my cover.”

He accepted that so easily, she mused, as great torrents of mud rose to engulf him until Lanhua’s lumpy, marsh reed-covered head rose to her level. The spirit looked at Ling Qi with her pit-like eyes and let out a bubbling rumble.

“I’ll cover you both. I promise,” LIng Qi replied. Really, the mud spirit was the more sensible out of the two of them.

Making a sound like a gathering mudslide, Lanhua began to tramp down the hill into the valley, and Ling Qi followed, fading into the shadows of the canopy as she hopped from branch to branch soundlessly.

The moment that they entered the range of the memory was obvious. One moment, they were standing under a bright noonday sun, and the next, they were under a night sky, and the forest was burning. Lurid light made the cool dark of night into a mockery of day, and plumes of smoke rose into the sky, framing a sullen, crimson crescent moon.

From all around, the sounds of combat rang out. The crack of shattering trees reached their ears, and the earth shook underfoot from terrible blows. Yet those distant things could not draw her attention because in front of Ling Qi’s eyes, a battle raged.

An earthshaking bellow rang in her ears as a titanic spirit struck the ground with its branch-like arms. It was as if one of the ancient trees of the deeper forest had uprooted itself and been reshaped into the vague outline of a man. Its burning canopy rose more than ten meters into the night sky, and below that was a visage like a caricature of an old man with knothole eyes and a beard of moss and lichen, flickering with embers. It had an apeish gait with too long arms and short legs.

At the spirit’s feet, its foe darted in a blur. It was a man taller than any human Ling Qi had ever seen save Cai Shenhua. He wore a flowing and resplendent emerald robe marked by soot and blood. In his hands was a spear of polished bronze, and from his head sprouted a pair of horns parting his long brown hair. His red eyes burned with fury as his darting spear punctured the spirit’s hide of bark again and again, seemingly to little effect.

His eyes fell upon Shen Hu and Lanhua then, and hope lit in them. “Soldiers! This prince requires your aid. Aid in striking down this mad beast that I might go to my father’s side!” he shouted while avoiding a thunderous blow that sent dozens of hungry, grasping roots writhing up from the ground to grasp and tear at the hems of his robe.

Before Ling Qi or Shen Hu could respond, the tree spirit let out a furious howl that sent a shiver down her spine. “You dare, Oathbreaker!” Its words were foreign, a slow, consonant-heavy speech, but Ling Qi found she could understand it. “Begone, children of river and hill! We have no quarrel!”

Ling Qi heard Sixiang say something in her thoughts, but it was muffled and unintelligible. Shen Hu glanced in her direction, his face protruding from Lanhua’s chest, confused and searching for guidance.

It really was like a dream. She had no context for this fight, no idea what was going on. Nothing made sense.

Threads Chapter 8

Ling Qi’s thoughts raced. Neither of these people were real; that much was obvious. So what mattered more here was what she wanted from the dream. She couldn’t be sure, but the brooding moon overhead made this seem like some kind of test. What would the Bloody Moon be looking for?

It was frustrating, so frustrating that she had so little information to base her decision on. Her first instinct was just to retreat and seek some context, but that didn’t feel right. Hadn’t she learned the need to be decisive?

Ling Qi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about the prince set her on edge. There was a certain desperation and anger in the prince’s demeanor. Going by his swift movements, he wasn’t being held here against his will. He obviously wanted this fight, or he could have escaped by now. That wasn’t really enough for her to side against him; it wasn’t as if she weren’t aware of the stubborn pride cultivators could have.

It was enough to make her hesitate though, and in that moment of hesitation, she saw the prince’s back as he spun to avoid a swing of the tree spirit’s fist. There, embroidered upon the back of his robe, was an image she recognized from the history books. It was the sigil of the Weilu clan, a yin and yang symbol with a sun and moon replacing the usual dots. However, the sigil was defaced with the stitching depicting the moon hurriedly torn out and stitched over with some archaic character that she couldn’t read.

Well, she thought, glancing up at the sullen red crescent in the sky, that made things a little easier. Even if this wasn’t really about the Bloody Moon, she could hardly be expected to side against her patron, right?

Ling Qi sank into the shadow of the tree she was perched on. Becoming a shadow always felt strange. The sense of formlessness and dislocation and her senses fading to a sharp monochrome had been disorienting at first, but she was well used to the technique now. Of course, she was only distracting herself from her next action; there was only one way to signal Shen Hu without sacrificing the advantage of her stealth.

Despite knowing that this scene before her was essentially a historical play told through illusion, albeit one that she and Shen Hu could participate in, Ling Qi couldn’t help but feel uneasy at her plan to actually attack another human - a potential forefather of Imperial citizens... Hopefully, he would be sensible enough to retreat once it became clear he was outnumbered. There was no way someone of such apparent high status would lack an escape talisman.

Yes, Ling Qi thought as she sank into the prince’s shadow, no more substantial than a wraith, they would drive him off, and then she could interrogate the tree spirit to find out what was going on. To that end, she would have to do enough damage to spook him. Ling Qi felt the chill of a frozen winter spread through her insubstantial form.

A chill wind blew, and a circle of frost spread from the shadow where Ling Qi hid. The young man’s eyes widened, but it was too late. The frozen notes of the Hoarfrost Caress rang out as Ling Qi resolved back into her physical form, flute raised. The icy qi crashed down over him. IThe horned prince was immediately sheathed in viridian light, qi like the bark of a millenial tree absorbing the baleful frost of her technique before shattering into shards of dissolving light.

He spun in a blur, the head of his spear blazing like a comet, and struck. Ling Qi barely recognized the attack before the point struck her dead in the center of the chest with a muffled boom of displaced air…

Only to skitter harmlessly to the side with a shriek like a thousand axe blades digging into the core of an ancient tree. The prince’s eyes widened, first in confusion and then in building outrage, but as Ling Qi began to ghost backward, light steps carrying her back out of the range of his spear, a fist the size of his torso slammed into his side and sent him flying to crash against one of the massive trees that lined the clearing.

To his credit, the prince landed on his feet as he fell from the crater in the ancient bark. The right side of his robe was wet with blood where the thorny spikes on the tree spirit’s fist had dug into his side.

“Miserable assassin,” he hissed. “Did your elders pluck that art from the corpses of my brothers?”

Ling Qi hesitated at the look in his eyes, a mix of pain and hate in his gaze even as she let the chill of her Grinning Crescent Dancer technique spread through her meridians. His attention was forced from her as the tree spirit let out a bellow and the ground upon which he stood was engulfed in a gout ofashy flames.

“You!” the prince shouted as he bounded from the branch he had leapt to to avoid the flames. Lanhua’s heavy stride made it clear who he was speaking to. “Hold the assassin-!”

Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by a volley of jagged black crystals that tore through his robe and drew flares of green qi where they sliced across skin. The prince crashed to the ground heavily, driven back by the barrage, once again thrown off-balance. “Why?!” he cried.

The prince rolled to the side to avoid spearing roots that rose from beneath his feet, but Ling Qi was already waiting for him. Bad feeling or not, they were committed now. She flickered into existence behind the prince, leaving him encircled by the three of them, and the fires burning nearby died as she played her song once again, forcing the prince to expend the power of his own Deepwood Vitality technique.

The roaring tree spirit closed to melee range, Shen Hu joining the assault as he charged from Lanhua, who was sinking into the earth. The prince parried the attacks with unearthly speed, the whole of his spear aglow and leaving afterimages in its wake as he was driven back by pounding fists and flashing claws.

Even against two opponents though, the prince wasn’t helpless. With skill that Ling Qi suspected even Sun Liling would envy, spinning parries became strikes that hit with the force of a heavenly bolt, ripping wide furrows in the tree spirit’s bark and sending up clouds of ashen sawdust. The wounds wept boiling sap, and more than once, Ling Qi had to avoid their spray as she danced around the perimeter of the battle, striking with cold and frost wherever there was an opening.

Why wasn’t he escaping? Ling Qi restrained herself from unleashing her mist; she didn’t want to trap him. But the prince continued to fight, striking out against the tree spirit almost exclusively, despite the venomous glances she caught thrown her way when the tides of battle allowed their eyes to meet.

As the battle dragged on and the ground beneath their feet turned into a slurry of sucking mud, slowing the prince still further, Ling Qi considered whether she should use her mist anyway. Using Hoarfrost Caress so many times was a drain on her qi reserves, and no doubt she would still be required to use more.

However, as she considered changing melodies, she felt something on the edge of her senses approaching at an unhurried pace. It was a presence that had a terrible weight to it, a thing of baying hounds and bloodied silver spears borne under the moon. But for all that the qi she felt was incredibly potent, comparable to Zeqing at least, it still felt truncated, as if the greater part of it were missing somehow.

It was obvious that the others felt it too. The tree spirit let out a guffaw of delight, and the prince went pale under the ash now streaking his face. “No…” he breathed out.

“Ho, not ready to face the King, Oathbreaker? You will suffer the fate of traitors!” the burning tree gloated.

“That murderer is no king!” the prince snarled, slamming the butt of his spear into Shen Hu’s chest, splattering mud in every direction as he skidded back. A patch of burning brambles erupted from the fertile mud beneath his feet, and his blurring spear carved them to pieces. She saw the prince tense, wind qi gathering in his legs, and their eyes met. She could have hit him then, perhaps interrupted his escape technique, but she did not. A windstorm erupted, and Ling Qi shielded her eyes as the gale that burst forth extinguished fires all around them and drove them all back.

When she next opened her eyes, the prince was gone.

“So he fled. Pointless,” the tree spirit rumbled before turning his attention to them. “That was foolish. But Vengeance-of-Burning-Grove thanks you nonetheless.” The tree seemed unbothered by the massive wounds scouring its limbs and torso.

Shen Hu gave her a sidelong look, indicating that he had questions for her, but he bowed respectfully to the tree spirit. “I’m just a humble guard, your lordship,” he said. “Just following Miss Ling’s lead.”

Her eyebrow twitched. That was true, but also, it was kind of unfair to dump all the responsibility on her, wasn’t it?

Ling Qi pasted on a smile as the tree spirit turned to her with a look of thoughtful examination. “I had been on a journey through the southern mountains and returned to find this battle. Sir Vengeance, I could not aid one who would deface his clan’s sigil so. Please tell me what is happening.”

Lying on the spot like this was a skill she had grown rusty in, unneeded as it had been for most of the last year, but thankfully, the tree seemed to believe her. She couldn’t ask Sixiang for help since Sixiang’s voice was now a muffled buzz; it sounded like they were arguing with someone. Also, that presence was still approaching, although at a strangely slow speed as if its source were merely on a casual stroll.

“There is no need to honor this old husk,” the tree rumbled. “Vengeance-of-Burning-Grove was born only days ago and shall be gone before the next cycle of the moon. The traitors sought to destroy these woods and deny them to their foes. My purpose is only to ensure that they pay for that attempt.”

Ling Qi shared a look with Shen Hu as the faint sound of baying hounds reached her ears. “What caused their betrayal?” she asked delicately.

“Human matters,” the tree answered shortly. “The traitor sought to break old ties, and with the old Patriarch’s death, his meddling is no longer tolerated. Too long have we suffered for the Oathbreakers’ gain. They refused to kneel, and so the King will bring them to heel.”

“Right,” Ling Qi said uncomfortably. That seemed simple enough, but…

“You may wish to get hence, little shadow,” Vengeance-of-Burning-Grove said, not unkindly. “Aided me you have, but to meet the King of the Forest under the light of the red moon is a dangerous thing.”

“Thank you for your kind advice,” Ling Qi replied, looking to Shen Hu and gesturing for him to follow her. They retreated a fair distance, and the tree spirit turned away, looking toward the source of the unsettling aura.

“Why were you holding back?” Shen Hu asked once they were out of easy earshot. A thought from Ling Qi kicked up the wind in such a way that their voices would not carry far.

“I was second-guessing myself,” Ling Qi admitted. “I sided with the tree because I saw the defaced sigil and figured we should side against traitors, right?”

“Sounds right,” Shen Hu agreed.

“It’s just - I don’t know when we are, so I don’t know who is right. Maybe the traitors win, and we’re actually fighting the people we should be siding with.” Ling Qi didn’t voice her more emotive concerns, but going by the uneasy look Shen Hu gave to the north where the “King’s” continued approach was snuffing out flames in a widening circle of inky darkness, she didn’t need to.

“This is confusing,” Shen Hu complained, glancing down as the mud at his feet began to bubble. “It’s just a dream, right? Like those illusion formations the elders use for tests.”

“Yeah,” Ling Qi answered. “Problem is, we don’t know what the test wants.”

Shen Hu was silent. “I don’t know if you were wrong to make the choice you did, and I don’t know how to figure it out. Maybe it’s like you said, and we have it backwards. But I think there’s something we can do to keep it simple.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Ling Qi asked.

“We see if there are any settlements around,” Shen Hu replied, gesturing to the battle-torn forest. “All of this fighting - if there are people around, they gotta be scared out of their minds. And besides, anyone attacking civilians is obviously the bad guy, right?”

“... and if there aren’t?” Ling Qi asked, dubious. “No one lives here in the future.”

He frowned. “Then I guess we just ask that King guy what he wants us to do. We already sided with him by helping the tree.”

Ling Qi sighed. They did have pretty limited options. Dropping her screen of wind, she called out to the tree spirit. “Vengeance-of-Burning-Grove! Are there any human settlements nearby?”

Creaking and crackling, the tree spirit turned to look at her. “South of here, there is a stream. Follow it, and you will find a nest.”

She glanced at Shen Hu, who shrugged. “You know where I’m going then. Guys like me don’t have any business with this high up stuff.”

“I’m going to stay here,” Ling Qi decided.

She felt uneasy about her choice, separating from Shen Hu in this dream and staying to meet the frightening presence that approached.

“You sure?” Shen Hu asked without judgement.

“I am. I might not be there yet… but dealing with the ‘high up stuff’ is going to be part of my job some day,” Ling Qi said dryly. “Can I talk you into staying?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’d be pointless. I can’t do anything here.”

Ling Qi huffed, feeling put out. “Some bodyguard you are.”

Shen Hu looked at her in confusion. “That was a lie though,” he said, befuddled. “You’re probably stronger than me anyway, and if this meeting turns violent, neither of us can do anything against that.” He gestured in the direction of the advancing darkness.

“That’s fair,” Ling Qi acknowledged. “Good luck.”

“You, too,” Shen Hu said before turning away to begin heading south, quickly sinking into the bubbling mud pool at his feet.

Threads Chapter 9

Ling Qi steadied herself and turned back to Vengeance-for-Burning-Grove, doing her best to project confidence as she strode back to him. “Sir Vengeance, if you do not mind, I will wait with you. It will benefit me to speak with the King, I think.”

The burning tree made a crackling groan as he gave her a sidelong look from his deep-set, knothole eyes. “You flirt with danger, little wraith, but I will not gainsay you for the aid you have given. Wait then, and prepare to receive the King.”

The wait was interminable, but Ling Qi found any attempt at conversing with Vengeance dying in her throat under the ominous pressure approaching them. Yet that very presence seemed in no hurry. Seconds stretched into minutes until nearly a quarter of an hour had passed. The first indication of its approach was the noise, a strangely muted cacophony of beastly cries and tramping feet mixed with the creaking of bending wood and the tearing of the earth.

Soon, the smoldering fires nearby snuffed out,and even the flames burning on Vengeance guttered low. Ling Qi found it hard to breathe, and her raw animal instincts screamed at her to run, to flee, to cower. It was only long acclimation to Meizhen’s aura that allowed her to hold her ground without doing more than going pale and trembling.

She understood then that what was coming was not something on the level of Zeqing, but something far beyond that. The presence’s relative weakness was due to the fact that this was but an echo of events long past like the impression of a blinding light seen on the back of one’s eyelids.

That did little to take away from her growing nerves as she saw the shadow of movement in the now darkened woods. She did not know what she was expecting, but it was not what emerged. What stepped forth from the treeline, brush parting before him like a curtain, was a man.

Yet it was not.

Towering over her, tall enough to look down upon any human, the “King” was nonetheless slender and androgynous, similar to Sixiang’s briefly held flesh and blood form. Long, luxurious black hair tumbled down past his shoulders, loose and wild, kept from his face by curving, branched horns which rose from his temples like a stag’s. He wore an emerald robe of many layers that draped his form and rippled in the suddenly chill wind.

Despite those trappings of humanity though, there was something off about the King. The motion she could see of his legs beneath the billowy robe was wrong, and his footfalls were more like the sound of hooves than any human feet. His handsome features and dark eyes seemed perfect, but the lines of it were subtly off like a mask that did not fit quite right, and the burning viridian light of his pupils reminded her unsettlingly of Cai Shenhua.

That did not even consider his entourage. In his wake, trees writhed, nightmarish faces forming and disappearing in the lines of the dark, and the shadows seethed with hungry eyes that gleamed in the night. She saw predators and prey alike among the unnatural darkness, shadowed even to her gaze. Wolves stalked amidst stags, and the earth writhed with vermin under the hungry eyes of raptors perched in living branches. Behind him stretched a vast swarm of beasts, more than she could ever name. But the vast menagerie, the forest made manifest, was eerily quiet and dim and remained behind him, as if they were only his shadow.

“My King,” Vengeance rumbled, awkwardly bowing his burning trunk in a facsimile of the human motion. “This brother has survived the others to bring you the knowledge the Oathbreakers sought to destroy.”

Ling Qi very quickly imitated the tree spirit’s motion, clapping her hands together and bowing as low as she could manage. “This humble one greets Your Majesty and begs forgiveness for this one’s intrusion.”

The King neither replied nor glanced her way as he strode across the clearing to stand before Vengeance-for-Burning-Grove. “Thy vengeance shall be done,” he decreed as he laid his hand upon the burning tree’s bark, flames parting around his slender digits. “Thy death avenged.”

Ling Qi remained studiously silent, peering out from under her bangs, but her eyes widened as Vengeance stilled before his flames roared to life, engulfing his form entirely in an inferno. The sudden burst of ashen woodsmoke almost made her cough and gag. She heard the King inhale, and flames and smoke alike were drawn in, reversing the explosion that had happened mere moments ago. When the flames faded, Vengeance-for-Burning-Grove was gone, and the King stood, a faint trickle of smoke rising from his lips.

“So that is where my wayward brother’s final redoubt is hidden,” the King mused, lowering his hand. His voice was musical and almost feminine, at odds with the atmosphere he exuded.

His gaze fell on Ling Qi then, and she froze. She found her muscles locked, denied any form of motion as the King turned toward her, the primal green radiance that shone from his eyes casting her clasped hands in a sickly light. “And what possessed thee to remain on this night of blood?” he asked, casual and indifferent in tone.

Her mouth was dry, Ling Qi thought absently, as his shadow fell over her. She felt the patter of countless feet as the carpet of mice and rats engulfed her feet, and the wraiths of ancient and hoary trees rose around her, their limbs heavy with birds, staring down at her with gleaming, hungry eyes. How long had it been since she had seen the night as a mortal did?

“I want to understand what is happening,” Ling Qi said with more confidence than she felt. “Your Majesty, I have-”

“What an amusing creature,” he interrupted, taking a stride closer. “What does it matter to you, Magpie-Who-Wears-the-Crow’s-Plumes? Dost thou imagine that thou can change the outcome of this night?”

Why did it matter to her? The King had a point; the forces moving in this dream were beyond her, and she was beginning to suspect that this memory was neither as structured or as safe as an elder’s test. So why? Why did it matter enough to put herself at risk?

... Because this was the situation she had chosen to put herself into, was it not? She was a small piece moving around the field between titans, but she would eventually be expected to not only affect, but even contribute, to their plans, plans that she may have no understanding of and barely any context for.

“Because I need to understand, if I am to survive.” The words came to her lips, unbidden. “Even if I am small, my actions can affect the paths of the mighty and draw their attention.”

“A good answer,” the King said, stepping closer still. “Very well. A boon then for shortening this night’s dance.”

Despite his words, Ling Qi only felt her discomfort rise as his slender hand clasped her shoulder, filled with a strength that could crush her in an instant.

“Before the Emperor and Empires, many Weilu strayed from the true path. They broke old pacts, cutting wood beyond the limits of our oaths and building festering nests of stone like the foolish apes to the north. They broke with the flow of the sun, the moon, and the seasons, as if they could forge a new order for themselves.”

“The King of the Forests tolerated this for he loved both of his sons and did not wish to raise his hand against one of them, and after all, the son’s depredations struck such a tiny, tiny fraction of the vast Emerald Seas.” The king’s lilting voice held an edge of contempt.

“Yet many were unhappy with our wayward brethren, and so when he passed, it was the Elder Brother, who walked the true path, who was crowned. When he politely requested that his Younger Brother and his foolish followers tear down their ugly blights and return to the true way, they refused.” All around him, wolves snarled and birds cried, the dulled cacophony of the forest rising. “How mad of them.”

Ling Qi felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She maintained her silence despite the pain from the King’s fingers digging into her shoulder as fury leaked into his voice.

“They bought metals and stone from serpents and apes and laid siege to our most sacred temples. They pillaged and killed their own kin and defied the holy conclave of kings. Yet when this King reached the peak, gathered the scattered courts to war, and awoke the Seas, what good did it do?” the king narrated contemptuously. “The followers of the truth have scoured the oathbreakers from the land and cast down their blights. They have regrown the sullied groves on the flesh and blood of chattel and traitors alike. Now, only one foolish man remains unrepentant. It is my younger brother and nephews who I hunt this night, little dreamer.”

Ling Qi bit her lip as she felt the King’s sharpened fingernails stab into her skin, drawing blood. “I see. Thank you very much, Your Majesty. I understand now.”

“Thou dost not, little dreamer," he rebutted. “But thou will. Thou shalt join us on our hunt. Only then shalt thy boon be granted. Pray that the understanding does not break thee.”

Ling Qi felt her throat dry up. “You honor me, Your Majesty.” Her voice sounded like a raspy whisper to her own ears.

“This King does not,” he clarified, sounding vaguely amused. “What interesting customs the future holds.”

Ling Qi could only remain silent. Her lessons on etiquette contained no response to that.

“Thy boon was a paltry one given thy service. New hunter, this King offers thee a blessing of fang or hide, which will carry even unto the waking world. Choose now, and let the hunt begin.”

Ling Qi swallowed,surrounded as she was by the embodiment of a forest’s rage with the hand of an incalculably more powerful cultivator on her shoulder. Her thoughts raced.

For a wild moment, she wanted to demand that he take into account the innocents on this night, to stay his hand from civilians or even just from her companion in arms, Shen Hu. But at the thought of saying it to the King... She met his eyes and saw the murderous fury in them. She flinched, and the words died without ceremony in her throat.

Could she really afford to risk herself in the face of this kind of power? Even if she were insulated from death in this memory, injury could spell ruin for her and her clan. She would only continue to receive resources and backing if she continued to meet the goals set out by Duchess Cai. She was confident that without injury, she could maintain her pace of cultivation and keep up with her liege, ending no more than five Sect ranks behind Cai Renxiang, as required. With this dream thing’s hand pressing down on her shoulder and his nails piercing into her skin, it forced her to remember just how fragile her position was. Could she risk all that for the sake of someone she was just barely getting to know?

No, she could not refuse. He had offered her a boon, and she would choose one.

How quickly perspectives could change. Had she not been bantering with Shen Hu earlier, confident that whatever was in this dream would just be another opportunity for her to capitalize on? She had gotten arrogant. She hated this. She hated being so wholly under someone else’s power. She hated having her own helplessness rubbed in her face. She worked so hard, cultivated so much, but she was still so
very
small.

“The blessing of fang,” she whispered. The words tasted like rot on her tongue, like spoiled food dug out of the trash in hungry desperation. Surely, she thought, if this was one of her real friends, the ones who had helped her get through the whole of last year in Outer Sect, she wouldn’t have hesitated at all to risk asking for their safety. Sure she would, some bitter part of her mocked. Had she really changed at all? Or had she merely been lucky not to have her resolve truly tested?

“I see,” the thing in the shape of a man said. “Very well then.”

She felt a burning pain then, beginning from her shoulder where the King’s hand rested. A wild and chaotic qi bubbled under her skin and dig hooks into her mind.

Then the King howled in pain, and the feeling cut off. She barely recognized a feeling of shock before the hand on her shoulder twitched, and she screamed as she felt her collarbone crack from the sheer monstrous force behind that spasm. Ling Qi flew backward to slam bodily into one of the many trees in an explosion of splinters and sawdust, her qi pool dropping precipitously to cushion the blow. She tasted blood in her mouth.

Ling Qi slid bonelessly down the massive tree trunk and looked up. She saw the Horned King, his snarling features lit by a terrible colorless radiance that was all too familiar. He held his right hand away from his body, and there, Ling Qi could see a half dozen wriggling white threads digging into his flesh and spreading glowing lines up his wrist. All around her, phantasmal beasts howled and roared, nearly deafening her.

The King’s left hand blurred, and with a wet, tearing squelch and a thump, his burning hand and forearm fell to the grass. The limb somehow grew and withered at the same time. Lumpy growths swelled where radiant threads passed while the rest became little more than a mummified claw. As the King stared at his smoking stump, Ling Qi could only do the same.

She was going to die. That was her first thought. Her second, faintly hysterical one was just what Cai Renxiang had put into her gown.

There was a wet crack, and Ling Qi saw a length of bone grow forth from the stump, then another, followed swiftly by tendrils of sinew and meat as the King’s right hand and forearm began to regrow. His eyes fell on her once more.

“What a jealous creature,” he commented, faintly bemused, but Ling Qi could feel the pique beneath his passive mask. “Well, no direct changes? There are other methods.”

Ling Qi had no chance to plead forgiveness before the multitude of rats and vermin carpeting the ground swarmed her, thousands of scrabbling claws and furry bodies racing up her limbs and engulfing her. Her last sight was the King staring pensively at his half-regrown hand.

Threads Chapter 10

She scurried through the grass and brush, racing alongside a million of her brethren. Her sleek black fur gleamed under the ruddy moonlight.

In her thoughts, there was only fury. Fury at the Oathbreakers. Fury at the burrow destroyers. Fury at the diggers and the choppers and the despoilers.

They would pay.

They would all pay for the King was hunting this night and all the forest raged at his side. She and her brethren were the vanguard, the first wave, incalculable in number, rushing in, each of them tiny, each of them weak. Yet their fangs were sharp and ready, durable enough to chew through stone and metal while others climbed and swarmed paltry walls or burrowed beneath, sapping crumbling foundations.

They came upon the enemy all at once, their momentum crushing them against the straining barriers of spirit that surrounded the stout block of stone which held their hated foe. The King’s power waxed, and the barriers fell, torn asunder like leaves before a storm. Screams rang out as huts of cut wood and clay brick fell under the hooves and paws and branches of her King’s greater soldiers.

She raced on, ignoring the lesser Oathbreakers. She chittered in delight as she raced up the walls, pressed on all sides by her brethren, and they devoured the first of the Oathbreakers guarding the walls of their doomed keep. She felt nothing but satisfaction as she dug her fangs into the squalling ape’s throat and tasted lifeblood in her mouth.

She snarled in pain then as she felt hundreds of sharp little stones crack against her hide. Her brethren were torn apart, reduced to little more than gore and matted fur, but the gleaming white markings on her hide glowed, and she was protected.

She saw the Oathbreaker who had done it, his hand raised and another cloud of sharpened stones gathering around him. It did not matter how many were slain; they were unending. They were the Hunt.

As she blurred into shadow and chewed out the man’s eyes with her fangs, a fresh wave of her brothers and sisters crested the walls to devour him.

***

Ling Qi remembered blood and death. She remembered men and women screaming, begging for their lives. She remembered killing them.

She retched. Her throat burned, and she tasted bile on her lips as she forced herself to to her hands and knees, scrabbling in the cooling dirt as her eyes stung with tears. She almost threw up in truth when she saw her surroundings.

Wreckage stretched as far as her eyes could see. She saw ruined huts and houses and torn-up streets, and everywhere, she saw bones and meat. Glassy eyes and empty sockets stared at her from all around, full of accusation and mockery. An endless graveyard, a charnel house, is what greeted her here.

“You are not one of mine.”

Ling Qi’s head snapped up at the sound of another voice, cold and dispassionate. In the shadow of a shattered doorway stood a figure shrouded in black. She was unassuming in stature, little more than a scrap of shadow amidst the graveyard. Her long black hair, matted and tangled, hung to her knees and shrouded her face, and yet, when the figure lifted her head, Ling Qi glimpsed only white bone and a burning red light in an empty eye socket.

Ling QI let out a strangled laugh that was more of a sob. It was crazy that she could recognize what this was so easily. The fear that had shackled her when she met the King was worn to tatters now.

“Why? What was this supposed to teach?!” she shouted at the Bloody Moon. “What was the point?!”

“There wasn’t one,” Sixiang muttered bitterly. “Sorry, Ling Qi.” To her surprise, she felt their slender arms wrap around her shoulders. Were they still in a dream then? “I failed. I didn’t see this bitch’s fingerprints all over this memory until it was too late.”

For her part, the Bloody Moon was unperturbed by the rudeness shown by the two of them as she moved closer. “You have been coddled, child, if you imagine that all or even most things hold a native purpose. It is the duty of humankind to forge meaning from the blind mechanics of the world.”

Ling Qi shook in impotent anger. She could still taste blood in her mouth. She could still hear the wails and cries of the dying. She could still see the terrible, viridian light shining forth from the keep as a horned corpse had been flung from the broken battlements while greenery consumed the survivors. Roots and flowers and crawler vines had erupted from everywhere, tearing and…

She took a shuddering breath to control herself, resting a hand on Sixiang’s. “Please. No cryptic speech,” she gritted out. “What do you want?”

The burning red light in the spirit’s eye socket flickered, and the moon avatar raised a hand, wet and red with blood, to cup her jaw. “I wished to inform you that there will be no further offers. You are not one of mine.”

“I’m glad,” Ling Qi spat before she could even think twice, “if this is yours.” The graveyard looked back at her, empty and stinking of rot.

The Bloody Moon stared at her, but Ling Qi was too exhausted and too sick to feel fear at the ominous weight that her gaze held. She could feel Sixiang’s arms tighten around her shoulders.

“Vengeance is blood washed away with blood,” the spirit replied, skull vanishing behind black tresses as she dropped her hand and turned away. “This is its true form, the only ending it can ever bring. Vengeance is the claw lashing out in pain, the bloodied fist crushing a foe’s skull to paste in the throes of grief, before its owner is slain in turn.”

As the avatar of the great spirit stepped into the shadows, she looked back, and beneath her tangled tresses, Ling Qi saw not a skull but the face of a steely-eyed matron of stern and unforgiving countenance. “Justice is something only humans can define. If you disapprove, then do not merely complain. Act - as you did not today. It is such a troublesome mantle your kind has saddled me with.”

Ling Qi closed her eyes. She just… didn’t have the energy to decipher what the spirit was trying to say right now.

“I’m sorry, Ling Qi,” Sixiang said, voice muffled by her hair. “I’m a crappy friend. I shoulda been able to figure out that this was one of her butcher plays. I shoulda paid more attention. I could have asked around, even if she was hiding her mark.”

“And I should have been more careful with the map,” Ling Qi said with a bitter chuckle. “I could have cross-referenced it with the archive or… something. I got cocky, too. I just hope Shen Hu is okay.”

As the graveyard faded away around them and the warmth and weight of Sixiang’s body dissolved away, Ling Qi could only regret.

When she opened her eyes, she winced at the brightness of the early afternoon sun.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Shen Hu’s voice drifted over her, and she immediately turned her head to where he kneeled in the grass beside her.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the twisting scar across his belly, red and fresh. It looked like he had been gored viciously. It had been a lethal wound by all measures.

He scratched his cheek nervously as he saw the direction of her gaze. “I messed up,” he admitted.

“What happened?” Ling Qi asked faintly, turning her gaze back up to the sky. She still felt dazed.

“Well, we were evacuating,” Shen Hu explained, turning somber. “Lanhua dug out a shelter and started on a tunnel real quick, but all these spirit beasts came bursting through the shelter roof. I couldn’t hold them off long enough, even with the choke.”

“You should have run. They weren’t even real. What if you had actually died?” Ling Qi asked without heat.

Shen Hu frowned. “If I would run now in a test, why wouldn't I run later in real life? Besides, it was a good lesson. I spent all of last year alone, ‘cept for Lanhua. It made me forget a lot of stuff that matters. Today, I saw what it looks like when we fail. People depend on us cultivators. I never want to see that again.”

“At least one of us found a lesson in this,” Ling Qi muttered. She had only been given doubts.

“Yeah, I don’t get it. I messed up, but the spooky lady at the end seemed happy for some reason,” Shen Hu said, scratching his head in confusion.

Ling Qi’s gaze snapped back to him, and his blank stare met her hollow one.

“... Where are we anyway?” Ling Qi asked dully.

“Down in the valley. Looks like we found a site at least,” Shen Hu replied, gesturing to the other side of her.

Ling Qi lolled her head to the other side, and there, she saw a tumbled field of stones overgrown by moss, which seemed to form a vague square. Going by the qi around the stones, it would probably be a useful site for both her and Shen Hu, moon for her and earth for him.

This hadn’t been for nothing. But Ling Qi could still taste the blood on her tongue.

***

“I do not believe your choices were in error.” As Bai Meizhen spoke, Ling Qi looked up from her lap to glance at her friend. "Except for entering the situation to begin with."

Meizhen was seated neatly beside her in the audience box overseeing the challenge arena. She was glad that her friend had reminded her that she needed to be here today. She had lost track of time in cultivating, plagued by doubts and frustrated with the sluggish response of her qi as she tried to build toward the next stage. Meizhen had quickly perceived her distress, and eventually, Ling Qi had disclosed the events of the dream.

“I would have thought you’d agree with the Bloody Moon,” Ling Qi sulked, resting her chin on her hand, only to wince a moment later. Those were ill-thought-out words.

Meizhen frowned at her. “Cease that,” she said. “That creature is a great spirit, and its words hardly condemned you. That is not what is troubling you.”

Ling Qi grimaced but agreed. “Have you see people die like that before? I just… I can’t…”

Her friend turned her eyes to the challenge arena below where the equipment was being set up. Heavy desks and shelves of tomes were being dragged out and arranged in artful symmetry.

“I have,” Bai Meizhen replied. “Observing records of battles is part of a young Bai’s education, and I have seen the aftermath of towns lost. Grandfather did not coddle us in ensuring that we know our duty.”

“Heh. Are the Bai really not so heartless after all?” Ling Qi asked, trying to put the images of the dead out of her head. “Compared to some other old clans,” she muttered darkly.

Meizhen drummed her fingers on her seat’s armrest before answering. “We know our duty, even if most do not do more than pay lip service to certain aspects. Mortals and lesser cultivators are,” Meizhen paused, trying to find the right word. “They are like children. It is an unfit guardian who allows them to be dragged under by lake beasts.”

“What they do to each other is fine though.” Ling Qi laughed harshly. She wasn’t being fair, but she felt burnt out.

“The metaphor breaks down,” Meizhen admitted without pause. “And yet, the sort of deliberate slaughter you spoke of at the end is the purview of barbarians. I can offer you little comfort, save that you will become accustomed to such violence. This world is cruel. If it bothers you, it is your duty as a cultivator to prevent its occurrence in reality, insofar as you are able.”

“And now you sound like her,” Ling Qi sighed, looking toward Meizhen.

Meizhen met her gaze. “The Bai are associated with that moon from time to time,” she said dryly. “More importantly, that is not the core of your trouble.”

“Since when are you so perceptive about this kind of thing?” Ling Qi grumbled good-naturedly.

“One must strive for excellence when carving one’s niche,” Bai Meizhen replied primly. “You regret what you see as cowardice, do you not?”

Ling Qi didn’t answer. She hated what she had been made to do in that memory. She hated the nightmares it had brought her, but those horrible scenes were, as Meizhen and even the spirit had said, something that she could draw determination from. The hunt had been repellent and evil on every level. Whatever justifications had existed for it were nothing in the face of what it had wrought. She would strive to ensure that she would never see something like that again.

No, what she really hated was that she hadn’t even tried to avert it. For all that she claimed to have grown above sacrificing friends and allies for her own wellbeing, when faced with impossible odds, she hadn’t even had the courage to try. It would be one thing if she had at least tried to persuade that monster to spare Shen Hu and been rebuffed; she would have just been angry and determined instead of… this.

“How can you call it anything else?” she asked.

“There is nothing wrong with prioritizing yourself,” Meizhen answered, giving her a cool look. “So long as self-preservation is not your absolute highest consideration. Filial duty must come first, else we be no more than snapping, clawing beasts, but…” She shook her head. “Why do your actions trouble you so?”

“It feels like I’m backsliding,” Ling Qi confessed. “I wonder if I would have stood by and remained silent if it had been you in the dream.”

Meizhen fell silent as the figure of an elder Ling Qi did not know blinked into view below at the overseer’s table. “I trust you would not. Ling Qi, it seems to me that you must make it clear to yourself where your limits lie. Your trouble lies in a lack of surety.”

Ling Qi did not reply. The challenge was starting.

Threads 11- Sect Challenges 1

Seeking a break from her churning thoughts, Ling Qi turned her attention to the young looking elder below. The elder was a squat, dour looking man with thinning hair and a wide face. He exuded a pressure that seemed to drain the very color from his surroundings. He wore plain silver robes, a minister’s cap, and a pair of tiny spectacles, all in perfect symmetry.

“We now begin the challenge given by disciple eight hundred and ten, Cai Renxiang, to disciple seven hundred and ninety five, Liu Su.” The elder’s voice was drier than a desert, and half as raspy. It seemed to absorb sound and attention alike, fixing Ling Qi’s attention on the dour man and silencing the murmurs from the other viewing boxes and the general stands. “In accordance with sect rules, Disciple Liu has chosen a match of administrative competence in lieu of a personal duel.”

Ling Qi’s eyes flicked briefly to her liege’s target, a handsome boy a year or two older standing firmly in the second stage of green and bronze realms. He looked calm and collected, confident even. She was too far away to feel much of his aura, but there was a faint papery scent to it.

Her attention returned to the elder then, yanked back by his droning voice. “In the constructed scenario, both disciples have been given the task of reorganizing a barony whose regulations have fallen out of sync with modern Imperial law. The disciples will then be tasked with organizing the county's human resources for military mobilization. Disciple performance will be judged based upon time, accuracy, and minimizing efficiency losses, as judged by I, Elder Meng. Disciples, seat yourselves, and prepare to begin.”

Ling Qi watched, bemused, as the “challenge” began. Liu Su was impressive, insofar as he could be given the dull nature of the challenge. She felt the qi fluctuations as his domain expanded out, and paper and writing implements began to fly. Heavy reference tomes of law fluttered like overweight butterflies, their pages flipping rapidly as form after form was filled in by flying ink brushes, while Liu Su sat with his hands folded neatly in his lap, his eyes half-lidded and fluttering like a man on the verge of sleep.

Cai Renxiang, on the other hand, was less visually impressive. Yet the stern girl did not so much as glance at the tomes of reference she had been provided, and although she wielded only a single ink brush, her hands were a literal blur that only resolved if Ling Qi focused. Ling Qi was pretty sure she caught the sound of ink and paper sizzling from the speed with which her liege wrote.

Despite all that, she was still watching two people fill in paperwork, if rapidly, and that was difficult to grab her attention. Ling Qi found her thoughts turning back to what Meizhen had said. She didn’t know if she could agree with her friend. It felt as if she were just making excuses for herself.

Ling Qi had decided that she didn’t want to betray friends, but where did that line lie? Who was a friend, and what counted as betrayal?

She was still wrestling with that question when the match was called. Liu Su had finished faster, but apparently, his work could not match the quality of her liege’s efficiency and total lack of errors.

She would have to congratulate her liege. And Ling Qi would have to make sure she didn’t get left behind. She couldn’t put off her research and intelligence gathering on potential disciples to challenge just to navel-gaze. There would be time for that later.

***

Ling Qi was not sure what she had expected when she had set this meeting up.

“Does it not cause the gown to hang oddly and bunch up?” Gu Xiulan asked, idly swirling the cup of bubbling hot tea in her hand. “And I imagine it must chafe terribly.”

“Not at all,” Li Suyin replied, smoothing out the glittering silk folds of the gown she was showing them as she neatly folded it back up. “The metal filaments, once attuned to the wearer, will follow their motions naturally and can be controlled in the same way one would a limb.”

It wasn’t this, though.

“That sounds somewhat like a flying sword,” Xiulan commented shrewdly. “Are you certain you are not overreaching yourself?”

Li Suyin met Xiulan’s gaze steadily from where she stood. “It is just a prototype. I admit the control is limited to simple motions as things are currently, but the filaments are vectors for my arts all the same. My partner and I will develop it further when I break through.”

Xiulan continued to stare her down, to which Li Suyin responded by drawing herself up further. This was more like what she was expecting. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned a partner,” Ling Qi said, pushing herself up from the wall she had been leaning against. “Anyone interesting?”

Li Suyin glanced toward her. “Oh! Um - I suppose neither of you interacted much with the crafting disciples. I have been collaborating with Du Feng, the disciple who placed second in the production competition, one rank above me, on a few projects.”

“Hm, I approve,” Xiulan said, pausing to take a sip of her near boiling tea. Ling Qi had no idea how the girl could stand it. She found the blend Li Suyin had set out to be much better chilled. “I suppose you really have grown.”

“I am pleased to finally meet your standards, Sect Sister Gu,” Li Suyin replied irritably.

Xiulan laughed. “You see? You would not have dared to talk back to me six months ago.”

Ling Qi coughed into her hand. “Maybe we should get back to our original topic.”

Despite her words, she was glad to listen to her friends’ banter; it let her feel normal again. Still, she had arranged this meeting for a purpose. As they were all in the eight hundreds, with her at 830, Li Suyin at 840, and Gu Xiulan at 890, they could share the efforts of their intelligence gathering as they were all trying to scope out the competition in the lower end of the Inner Sect.

“I am grossly underranked,” Gu Xiulan grumbled, her empty tea cup hitting the table with a solid clunk.

Ling Qi nodded in agreement. When speaking with other Inner disciples, and more often, just observing public areas from a well hidden nook, she had come to a similar conclusion. Disciples below nine hundred were mostly in the second realm with a scattering of partial breakthroughs. Even up to rank 880 or so, partial third realms were more common than full ones. She could say that those disciples were beneath her concern and not feel like she was being cocky saying so.

“Just how high are you thinking of challenging?” she asked, giving her friend a sidelong look.

“High enough to reach the next reward tier. I would shame my family otherwise,” Xiulan sniffed.

“I am not yet certain that I wish to challenge for a higher rank at all,” Li Suyin sighed. “I really should finish a project or two first and begin my breakthrough.”

“Are you saying you don’t have your eye on any particular seat?” Ling Qi asked, raising an eyebrow.”

“No,” Li Suyin admitted, sitting down across from Xiulan, having finished putting away her prototype gown.

Ling Qi laughed, and Xiulan tittered along. “Well, let’s leave that aside for the moment. What have we learned about our yearmates?”

“Sun Liling has hardly shown her face,” Gu Xiulan answered first. “Neither has that Kang, though that might be for medical reasons. Bai Meizhen was not gentle in her match.”

“Ji Rong has been in the archives a great deal,” Li Suyin offered. “And not always in the arts sections. He got into a fistfight with a tome of Imperial law while I was studying construct behavior functions. The archivists were quite cross. One commented that it was becoming more common.”

Xiulan let out an unladylike snort of laughter. “That would be a sight.”

“Shen Hu is probably only aiming for a small challenge, so he doesn’t fall below the rank threshold,” Ling Qi added. “He wants to focus on shoring up some weaknesses first.”

“I believe that is everyone of import,” Xiulan said haughtily. “Unless one of your compatriots is aiming to challenge a combat disciple?” she asked, looking at Li Suyin.

“Unlikely,” Li Suyin said. “It might be a little arrogant to say, but aside from Yan Renshu and Fu Xiang, none of the crafters ranked below me are my match either.”

Yan Renshu was the sticking point. Like Gu Xiulan, he was certainly underranked. Ling Qi half worried that he would challenge Li Suyin just to spite her, but she could only speculate on the boy’s plans - if he had any. Not that it would be a serious loss for Li Suyin if that happened; she’d only drop one rank from Yan Renshu taking her former rank, perhaps a bit more if she were ‘leapfrogged’ by other disciples below her successfully winning rank challenges to disciples above her, but she would almost certainly stay in the same reward tier regardless.

Ling Qi flicked her wrist, and a thick scroll appeared in her hand, drawn from her storage ring. “Let’s leave our yearmates aside. I did a little people watching and picked some things up about our new Sect Brothers and Sisters.”

“I did as well since you asked me to,” Li Suyin added, placing her own scroll on the table.

Xiulan rolled her eyes. “What a pair of scholars you are,” she mocked lightly. “I spoke to and mingled with our new brethren on this mountain. I felt no need to write down my insights.”

LI Suyin and Ling Qi let out an almost simultaneous huff of annoyance, only to meet each other’s eyes and break into quiet laughter. Yes, Ling Qi was glad that she had involved her friends, instead of doing this alone.

***

Ling Qi had been busy since meeting with her friends. The sluggishness to her qi had not vanished but instead, it lingered, a morose stillness that slowed her every effort to cultivate.

In the same way, she found her thoughts haunted by the scent of blood and cries of pain in moments of silence. Increasingly, she found those moments appearing. She wasn’t the only one who had been affected by the Bloody Moon trial, and Sixiang had barely spoken up at all in the aftermath of it.

Here and now however, Ling Qi let her worries drift away as the swirling snowflakes did on frigid wind. She sank eagerly into the welcome embrace of the heavy darkness which shrouded her mentor’s mountaintop home.

In the depths of an impossible blizzard above the clouds themselves, lit by starlight, Ling Qi danced, following the motions deciphered from the jade slip containing the Sable Crescent Step.

“Your movements are empty.” Zeqing’s voice echoed from all around her as Ling Qi spun, avoiding a glittering ball of ice and snow flung at her by a giggling little girl.

Ling Qi’s eyes remained closed as she kept her concentration, slipping between the driving shards of ice hidden in the falling sleet. “Where am I making a mistake?” she asked, her voice aloof and calm, emotion temporarily drowned in concentration.

“You mistake me. You are not performing poorly,” her mentor replied, her voice a blustery gust. “Your intent is suppressed. That is the purpose of this dance, is it not?”

Ling Qi hummed, sidestepping and weaving through the snowfield to the soundless thrum of the darkness that shrouded the mountaintop. “I am still surprised that your home is so…” She trailed off, a shudder traveling up her spine. She had never cultivated here during her time in the Outer Sect, and so, she had never felt the sheer potency of the qi in this place. “I didn’t expect so much darkness here.”

“Darkness and cold are two facets of a single crystal,” Zeqing’s voice murmured in her ear while the blizzard howled and Hanyi laughed. “They are absence and emptiness and the end of all things.”

“The silence is beautiful sometimes,” Ling Qi murmured. She did not speak of base sound, as the storm was actually quite loud, but on a deeper level, beneath sight and sound where there was only the flow of qi, it was calm and peaceful. There was no strife and violence, only a quiet stillness that made her heart ache. Yet she knew that the feeling was fleeting, without needing to hear Zeqing’s words.

“Cold seeks heat, and darkness seeks light. Emptiness yearns for fulfillment. Such is the source of desire. Do not seek out the silence, Ling Qi.” Zeqing’s voice had a sad note to it. “Should you reach it, you would cease as surely as frost on a spring morn. Humans are not meant for such purity.”

Ling Qi did not take any insult at the words. She knew purity of concept was not something to be desired. Not yet. She was still far from those heights.

“Still, I wonder what it is like,” she mused. She had no doubt it would be inaudible to any except the blizzard which shrouded her. “Zeqing, would you tell me?”

This time, her mentor did not respond immediately, save for an intensifying of the winds and the driving ice. Ling Qi smiled as she wove through another barrage of flung snow from an increasingly pouting Hanyi.

“All things End.” Ling Qi shivered, the final word echoing like the ringing of a temple gong, layers of meaning skipping across her thoughts. “Heat, warmth, lives, cities, empires, rivers, and mountains; none are eternal. The sun and the moon, the heavens and the earth, these things, too, shall End in time.” Zeqing’s voice chilled her and spoke as if from the bottom of a deep pit. “And when the Heavens lie dark and the earth crumbles, even the End will cease. What lies beyond is unknowable.”

Ling Qi let out a breath of relief as her dance came to a stop, and the chill faded. “Thank you for answering, teacher.”

“You do not understand. My words cannot express the truth without dealing you great harm,” Zeqing said as the wind died and her human form spun into existence from snow and wind, floating serenely. “But that is fine. You are too young for such understanding yet.”

“For once, I have no complaints at being told that,” Ling Qi remarked, rubbing her arms through the fabric of her gown. She still felt chilled. “Master Zeqing, do you think I chose wrongly in that dream?”

“I cannot fully understand your reasons for distress,” the ice spirit replied, her blood red lips unmoving. “I can only say this: take what you desire and cling to it fiercely, for nothing is forever.”

Ling Qi was silent. The words resonated, and yet, what did she desire?

“Are you done talking about boring stuff with Big Sis yet?” Hanyi called, her voice jarring Ling Qi from morose thoughts. Hanyi ran over to them atop the snow, her pale blue feet not making a sound or disturbing a single flake.

“Yes, we’re done,” Ling Qi said, putting on a smile for Hanyi. “What did you want to show me?”

“Momma showed me how to make flowers!” Hanyi chattered excitedly, grasping her hand to pull her along. “I made a garden. You gotta see!”

“Yes, desires must be grasped, even should they bring an ending.” Ling Qi did not turn back despite the conflict in her mentor’s voice. Hanyi had not heard, and Ling Qi was sure that those words were meant for only her.

She felt a sinking in her stomach. All things End, huh?

Threads 12

The weeks that followed blurred by. She began to take more difficult sect jobs, pushing the limits of her sneaking abilities with harder and harder targets. She mastered the seventh step of the Sable Crescent Step under Zeqing’s eyes.

Despite the sluggishness of her qi, she continued to push herself every day, building her foundations through sheer bloody-minded effort until at last she broke through despite the difficulty. It was exhausting, and Ling Qi knew that she could not rely on just powering through going forward. Reaching the appraisal stage of the green realm was merely solidifying one’s foundations, preparing for the true work ahead and smoothing out the instability of breakthrough.

She needed to resolve her conflict one way or the other.

When she returned to the source of her troubles, she found the grove eerie and quiet. Under the light of the full moon, she found herself mastering the first steps of the Curious Diviner’s Eye art as easily as she breathed. She didn’t need the Bloody Moon; there were other phases.

In between the lines of her new art, she heard a whisper of history. She learned of a man who loved knowledge and exulted in its spread, a man who could parse a hundred thousand futures and choose the one he wished. A whisper of Tsu the Diviner, first king of the Emerald Sea, haunted the art. It was a faded thing, an echo bouncing back for the thousandth time, but it still made her wonder. How had that man’s descendents become that which she saw in the memory?

Once, she would have said it did not matter. Now, however, she wondered if she could really understand the present without first understanding the past. She couldn’t afford to just stride forward without a care, relying solely on luck and instinct to keep her safe.

If she wanted to avoid outcomes like those of the dream, she first needed to understand why they came about. It was with thoughts such as these that she returned to the mountain to meet with her liege.

“My report, Lady Cai,” Ling Qi said, keeping her head bowed as she placed the trio of scrolls on her liege’s desk.

“Very good,” Cai Renxiang said, pausing in scanning the other document on her desk to give Ling Qi a nod. “Take a seat. We will discuss these matters shortly.”

Ling Qi did so, sinking into the comfortable chair which sat across from Cai Renxiang’s desk. It was, in a very real way, her chair, she knew. Ling Qi appreciated the gesture given the rather less comfortable seats swapped in for other guests.

“How is your family faring?” Cai Renxiang asked absently, not yet looking up from her work.

“Mother and Biyu are well. The, ah, guests will be arriving soon, I think.” Ling Qi squirmed in her seat at that. She still remembered her liege’s blank expression when she had first made that request.

“Say it plainly, Ling Qi,” the other girl chided. “Do not show weakness. They are your new household. If even their clan head is ashamed of them, then it will lend credence to your enemies’ words.”

“You’re right. It is unfair of me,” Ling Qi agreed with a grimace. “I am still surprised you went along with this request so easily.”

“Should I ascend to Mother’s seat, I will do far more to upset those in power,” Cai Renxiang replied. “Such a minor scandal should serve well enough for training purposes.”

Ling Qi shook her head. That was just such a Renxiang-like thought that it made her want to laugh. “Hmph. You’re really not bothered by their old profession at all, are you?”

Cai Renxiang glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. “It is an unpleasant function, but there are many such. Shall I spit upon the men who dredge the sewers or those who collect dung to fertilize the fields?” The dark haired girl drummed her fingers briefly on her desk. “... Though perhaps like those men, their duties might be unnecessary in the future. A thought for another time.”

And there she went. Ling Qi didn’t really feel the need to prod her liege’s thought along further, lest she get Cai Renxiang talking about reforms that she could barely follow. Finally, her liege’s inkbrush returned to its holder, and the last page of work was placed neatly on the completed pile.

“Summarize your findings,” the girl said crisply, moving the trio of scrolls to the center of her desk.

“Disciples from our year’s tournament are largely underranked, I believe,” Ling Qi answered. “In many cases, not by much, but they are. I do not believe you should concern yourself with anyone below the rank of 850.”

“And if they are attempting to deceive others on their ability?” Cai Renxiang asked, opening the first scroll.

Ling Qi pursed her lips. “I do not think anyone would do so for such a low rank. If they are common born, the loss of resources would not be worth it, and if not, then their low rank would likely shame their families if kept for too long.”

“That was my conclusion as well,” Cai Renxiang agreed. “I am glad to see you are thinking of such things.”

“Thank you,” Ling Qi replied, briefly dipping her head. Li Suyin had actually been the one to point that out to her. “I made notes about a few people who could potentially challenge you in the upper ranks, but I could not obtain much information from those above 800.”

“A task for next month when you have access to visit either Bai Meizhen or myself,” her liege noted, absently scanning the scroll. “Yes, this will be useful.”

There had been a flurry of challenges in the last week or two. She knew Meizhen had moved up to rank 792.

“As for my own advancement, I reviewed a few choices, but I believe disciple 812 is my target.”

“Reasons?” Cai Renxiang questioned.

“Skill set compatibility,” Ling Qi explained. “She is a musician and a fighter without much in the way of secondary skills. I believe I overmatch her in both of those areas.”

Ling Qi sent a probing thought toward Sixiang, who sent back a feeling of distracted acknowledgement. Whatever they were doing, Ling Qi was confident Sixiang would have her back in a duel; their ability to wash away enemy arts would be invaluable.

“If you are confident, then that is enough. Have you made the challenge yet?” Cai Renxiang asked.

“Not yet. I wanted to inform you first. I will find her tomorrow.”

“I’ll bet six of my contribution points. That should be enough to show that I’m serious, right?” Ling Qi mused.

“It should be sufficient,” Cai Renxiang agreed. “Did you have any further concerns as to your challenge?”

“No,” Ling Qi replied.

“Very well,” the other girl said crisply. She flicked her wrist, and a folded envelope appeared in her hand. “Take this before you leave then. The auction for your item was completed. There is a formation seal on the receipt holding your stones.”

Ling Qi blinked as she took the envelope, only for her eyes to widen at the sum shown on the paper within. “This much?” she asked faintly.

“I do have a connection or two, even under Mother’s restrictions,” Cai Renxiang pointed out dryly. “Spend wisely. Wealth is no excuse for waste.”

Ling Qi nodded, hurriedly tucking the envelope into her sleeve. “Thank you very much, Lady Cai.”

“You may leave then. I should like to have our spar one hour earlier tomorrow. A meeting has come up in the normal time,” the other girl said, turning her eyes back to the scrolls.

Ling Qi nodded again, only to pause as she moved to stand. She hadn’t spoken to Cai Renxiang about the Bloody Moon dream yet. Unsurprisingly, her moment of hesitation was caught by the other girl, who glanced up.

“Speak, if you are troubled.”

“... If my gown, uh, ate part of a spirit, is that normal?” Ling Qi asked.

Cai Renxiang put the scroll in her hands down with a thump as she scrutinized Ling Qi. “If the spirit were attempting to tamper with its weaving, then yes,” she answered bluntly. “What manner of arrogant creature did you encounter, that it would ignore the warnings woven into the fabric?”

Ling Qi thought of the King and his disregard, as well as what had come after. “One I won’t miss,” she grunted. “I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.”

Cai Renxiang shook her head. “Your luck is strange. In any case, although your gown is apprentice work, the thread of Liming has given it the same protection Mother gives to her personal works. It is unwise to tamper with them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ling Qi said, brushing her hands over the silk of her gown. “Let me take my leave then, my Lady,” she said with one more bow before leaving.

***

The next day, Ling Qi found herself traveling up one of the many winding paths that connected the cliffside dwellings of the Inner Sect disciples to pay a visit to the disciple ranked 812. She had already delivered the notice of challenge to the Sect offices for processing, but it was considered polite to go and speak to the person you were challenging. Not doing so was a deliberate snub.

As she made her way up the steep winding path toward Yu Nuan’s abode, she caught the sound of music floating down from above. Though the notes were deep in tone, Ling Qi recognized the sort of aimless playing that was not any particular piece, but a simple expression of feeling. She lowered her head as the notes thrummed in her bones. There was anger, passion and spite aplenty woven into the sound, but the base of it was something more like determination, or perhaps, defiance. Unfocused as it was, it presented no theme or image in her thoughts, but she could recognize the skill behind it. Ling Qi judged herself to be the better musician, but the gap was not large.

As she thought that, Ling Qi crested the top of the path and caught her first sight of the other girl. Yu Nuan stood with her back to the path, looking out over the cliff’s edge. She was tall and dusky skinned like Ling Qi herself, although not quite as much in either degree. She wore boyish clothes: loose, baggy pants of heavy black cloth tucked into sturdy boots, and a similarly loose shirt of dark purple silk that billowed on her lanky frame. Her hair drew Ling Qi’s eye. It was cut short, barely reaching her ears, and retained the natural curling that Ling Qi had tamed out of her own locks early last year.

“What’s up then?” Ling Qi was shaken out of her thoughts by Yu Nuan’s gruff voice. She met the girl’s green eyes as Yu Nuan looked back over her shoulder. Ling Qi paused to stare at the jade studs piercing the girl’s lower lip and right eyebrow.

Ling Qi offered a perfunctory bow, which prompted the other girl to turn around and somewhat irritably return it. Ling Qi spotted a flash and a whiff of smoke as the lute Yu Nuan had cradled in her arms vanished. A polite pleasantry was on the tip of her tongue, but as she met the girl’s eyes again as they straightened up, she elected to match Yu Nuan’s bluntness. “I am Ling Qi. I wanted to let you know that I am challenging you for your rank.”

“Yu Nuan,” the other girl greeted curtly, narrowing her eyes. “ What’s your ante?”

“Six Contribution Points,” Ling Qi answered, folding her arms below her chest. “I hope that the Senior Sect Sister will accept.”

“Quit that.” The girl shot her an irritated look. “I saw that tournament. Don’t Senior Sect Sister me.”

Ling Qi huffed but relaxed her posture. “Yu Nuan, will you accept my challenge?”

“Obviously,” the girl replied, warm wind stirring around her. Ling Qi heard, or rather felt, the faint stirring of notes, discordant and heavy. She was sure that the girl across from her could hear the faint sound of Ling Qi’s own soul as well. “You’d probably beat me in a fight, but that’s not the kind of challenge you’re expecting, is it?”

“No,” Ling Qi agreed. “I haven’t compared myself to a peer in music since I started cultivating.”

The other girl let out an inelegant snort and shook her head. “I’m glad I’m not a year younger. Still, there’s one thing I gotta ask.”

“I may not mind answering,” Ling Qi replied noncommittally.

“Why’d you sign up with the Cai?” Yu Nuan asked bluntly. “Just hitching your ride to the best horse?”

Ling Qi felt a twinge of irritation at the question. “Would there be anything wrong with that?” she asked. “Cai Renxiang is a good liege to serve. I agree with her intentions.” She wasn’t sure how well Cai Renxiang’s ideals would turn out in practice, but she wasn’t satisfied with the world that is, and she’d gotten a look at the world that was. She couldn’t imagine Cai Renxiang ordering a massacre like the King had.

... She couldn’t say the same about Duchess Cai though. Not yet, at least.

The other girl pursed her lips, giving Ling Qi a scrutinizing look. “Thanks for being honest.” Yu Nuan let out a short laugh.

“My turn,” Ling Qi said, giving the girl a mild glare. A cool breeze blew, and the sound of a distant flute was audible, even to Ling Qi’s ears. “What’s your problem with the Cai? You another one like Chu Song?”

“Nah. The Big Cai crushed that lot on purpose,” her opponent answered, squaring her own shoulders as a ripple of heat rose from her skin, warding off the chill. “Me and mine were just incidental. You can rage against the machine, but if it bothers to notice, you’ll just get crushed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ling Qi asked, studying the other girl. Her words didn’t match the feelings she had gotten from the girl’s aimless playing.

“I think I answered in as much detail as you did, Junior Sis,” Yu Nuan replied sardonically.

“That’s fair,” Ling Qi admitted.

“S’fine. One way or another, we’ll understand each other by the end. That’s what the music is about, isn’t it?” Yu Nuan replied with a dismissive wave and turned back to face the cliff.

Ling Qi stared at her back. She could take it as rude if she liked, but she wasn’t sure she did. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said, letting her feet lift off from the grass. As always, she still had a lot of cultivation to do.

Later that day, she found a neatly printed page slipped under her door when she emerged from the meditation room to quench her thirst. The challenge had been decided. It would be a contest of composition. They would each compose a new piece over the next three days and then present it to the elder overseeing the challenge. After presenting in turn, they would then vie directly against each other to see whose message was the stronger.

Ling Qi set the notice aside. Three days to prepare. She could do that.

Threads 13

Ling Qi let out a slow breath as she ended her meditation in front of the argent vent. Seated cross-legged on the smooth stone floor, Ling Qi could feel, without looking outside, that several hours had passed and night had fallen. Stellar qi tingled at the edges of her senses, even through the width of earth and stone between her and the dim moonlight.

Normally, she would be soaking in the lunar energies on the cliffside, but tonight she had other plan. She had thought long and hard on where she should begin her composition efforts. She had paid a visit to Mother and Biyu and thought of asking her mother for advice. She had briefly considered going to Zeqing. In the end, she had turned away from both choices for the same reason.

For her first challenge against another musician, she wanted a piece that was wholly hers, and there was only one person who could help her in that regard. Sixiang was, for all their flightiness, superb at prodding her toward creativity without unduly influencing the result. At least, they were when they weren’t in a teasing mood. Sixiang had been quiet for weeks now though, barely responding to anything. It concerned her, even if she knew the source. But she needed the spirit’s help, and she couldn’t afford to continue giving her space.

“Sixiang,” she said aloud, turning her thoughts inward at the same time. “I need your help. Don’t you think you’ve kept to yourself long enough?”

Ling Qi stared at the mist slowly seeping from the argent vent in silence as she waited for a response, eyes tracing the faint geometric shapes that formed and dissolved in the mist. As seconds and then a minute ticked by, she began to worry, but then, she felt a stirring of awareness in her thoughts.

<Sorry, just busy. Can it wait a bit longer? I’ll be done soon,> the muse whispered distractedly in her thoughts.

<I need to compose a piece within three days,> Ling Qi thought dryly. <And, you know, it hurts a little that you haven’t even told me what you’re doing. We’re friends, aren’t we?>

<Sorry,> Sixiang repeated, sounding dispirited. <I just - It’ll be easier to show you. Why don’t you go to sleep?>

Ling Qi almost shot back an irritated quip but caught the meaning before the words could leave her lips. <Alright. I suppose I’ll see you soon,> she thought. Speaking to Sixiang in her dreams was something she had suspected that she could do, but it had never come up before.

Heading to her bedroom, Ling Qi was struck by the thought that it would be the first time she had slept in the bed provided. The handful of hours of sleep she had taken in the last two months had been snatched in the meditation room. It felt odd to lie down in an actual bed after so long. The pillow was soft, and the bedding perfect in balance between firmness and give.

Yet, Ling Qi barely noticed as she laid down after changing into nightclothes that she had not worn in months. For her, there was no lying awake trying to fall asleep. It was a matter of will, cutting off the flow of qi that maintained her more mortal functions, and so her consciousness faded. She only hoped that Sixiang could guide her dreams.

A moment of blackness passed. Ling Qi opened her eyes to be assaulted by a riot of color. She sat up, looking around in confusion at the thick sea of pillows, blankets and mats. Her hands sank deep into the soft fabric, and she floundered, almost drowning in the mountain of fluff and fabric. Her limbs were heavy and clumsy, but she managed to regain her balance after a moment.

“It’s still kind of a mess, isn’t it?” Sixiang asked wryly, drawing her attention away from her resting place. Looking up, she had to squint to see through the glittering rainbow mist that shrouded everything, but she could make out a few things. In front of her, the mass of pillows and cushions ended, and a sea of opaque blue-green “water” began. It was disturbing; though it lapped and rippled realistically, the color was wrong, more an illustration than reality. Sixiang sat on the shore, their androgynous back to Ling Qi and their legs bare, dangling lazily into the ‘water’.

“What is this?” Ling Qi asked. She managed to stand up after a few moments and began picking her way across the treacherously soft ‘ground’.

“Um, I guess you could say this is kinda like my Domain?” Sixiang answered, still looking out over the “water.” “Not bad for a first try, huh? I haven’t gotten all the physical bits finished up yet. I wanted to wait until I was done before I invited you in.”

Ling Qi rolled those words around in her head but put off the obvious question for now as she reached the shore. The footing was surer here, and she was able to find a cushion to sit on that didn’t immediately sink or shift uncomfortably. “Sorry for pushing you. I need my muse though,” Ling Qi said.

“Do you really?” Sixiang asked, finally looking her way. “I’m kinda thoughtless, aren’t I? All the good stuff comes from you.”

Ling Qi observed Sixiang as they turned their face back to the mist-shrouded sea. “I don’t blame you for that nightmare. It’s not like you could stand up to the whole Bloody Moon or whatever that was.”

“Maybe not, but I could have warned you that it was gonna be trouble. But I didn’t really get it.”

“Get what?” Ling Qi asked, giving the “water” another dubious look. It looked vaguely like paint.

“Do you remember when we talked about death?” Sixiang asked.

Ling Qi nodded slowly. “That was a weird conversation.”

“I didn’t understand how death was scary,” Sixiang explained. “It might be because of how I am. Fairies - muses - die and are born all the time.”

Ling Qi did not reply at first, trailing a finger through the water. It felt normal at least. “How old are you, Sixiang?”

“How long ago was your debut party?” Sixiang answered her obliquely. “It’s hard to put it in a way you’ll get. I have memories way older than that, but ‘Sixiang’ isn’t even a year old. I didn’t understand how losing yourself would be scary because all the bits that were ‘you’ would end up part of something else, and that’s fine.”

“You’re right. I don’t get it,” Ling Qi acknowledged. “Why did that change though? Did the Bloody Moon threaten you?”

Sixiang grimaced. “No, I could feel you hurting in the dream though, and that made me hurt. And if something happened to you, this dream would end, and I wouldn’t get to tease you anymore, or listen to your songs or watch everyone fumble around trying to express themselves and…” Sixiang reached up, toying with a strand of their drifting misty hair as they babbled. “I didn’t want that. I’m not ready to wake up and rejoin Grandmother yet.” Frustration and confusion bled into Sixiang’s voice.

Was Sixiang’s existence tied that closely to hers? Ling Qi was faintly disturbed by the thought. “I mean, that just makes sense, doesn’t it?” Hesitating a moment, Ling Qi reached over and placed her hand on Sixiang’s shoulder.

“Maybe to you. A dream is only supposed to exist in the moment. The past and the future are for other phases, you know?” Sixiang laughed.

“You’re selling yourself short. What good is a muse that doesn’t stick around?” Ling Qi jibed, hoping to lighten the mood.

“A muse is just a nudge. It’s up to the artist to actually create something,” Sixiang shot back, a grin finding its way back onto their features. “So I guess I should get nudging, huh? What is it you want to compose?”

Ling Qi considered. Unsteadiness still lurked in Sixiang’s tone and voice. “We can wait a bit, if you’d like. I can ask someone else.”

“No, no, no, not gonna fail at the thing that’s actually my job,” Sixiang chided. “There’s some stuff I want to share, but I gotta stress test this domain thing first. Don’t want to do damage by mistake,” they added more quietly.

Ling Qi gave the spirit a sidelong look but shrugged, recognizing that it was the most she was going to get. “Alright. Right now, I need to compose a piece for my sect challenge. We’re going to compete over which composition has the stronger message, and I want something that will resonate well with my opponent and myself…”

Sixiang held up a hand to forestall her. “Hang on a sec. Let me catch up. I haven’t been paying attention.”

Ling Qi blinked as the spirit reached out and brushed their fingers across the opaque water. She saw the surface ripple and glimpsed flashing images: the mountain path, her conversation with Cai Renxiang, Yu Nuan’s face, and others as well.

“You can just do that?” Ling Qi asked, bewildered.

“Once I’m done, you’ll be able to as well. One more sec,” Sixiang muttered distractedly. “Alright, I think I’ve got a handle on her. Where are you stuck?”

“I’m not sure how much I buy my own words,” Ling Qi explained, shaking off the questions for now. “I won’t lie. A big part of my uncertainty is because of that dream. I’m just not sure of myself anymore. If I’m willing to step back on the first thing I decided I wouldn’t do, can I really say I have any convictions at all?”

Sixiang idly kicked their bare legs, sending up splashes of paint-like water. “Is it really so bad to be uncertain? You’re not a construct or an elemental. It’s okay to have some give to your beliefs.”

“That feels like an excuse,” Ling Qi sighed.

“Hm, hm, I see where I imprinted those issues from,” Sixiang said, their voice a little brittle. “But you’re gonna fail, and you’re gonna disappoint yourself. Nobody walks a path without stumbling.”

“You sound like a book of koans,” Ling Qi groaned.

“I remember writing parts of those,” Sixiang replied with a laugh. “But the point is you’re human, and not far enough along to really have any ‘pure’ convictions. Each experience is a brick laid in the foundation of who you are.”

“Now you’re doing it on purpose,” Ling Qi accused. She rolled her eyes, but she could see the spirit’s point. She wasn’t sure she would ever see that dream as anything but a failure on her part, but she couldn’t wallow. She couldn’t afford to, and as much as she felt a sliver of self-loathing for it, she didn’t want to. She had buckled to fear in the face of overwhelming power, but hadn’t she stood with Meizhen when she was alone and ambushed? She had also stood firmly against Huang Da when he tried to turn her against Li Suyin and Su Ling. One false step did not invalidate a path.

“I need a composition that focuses on what I want to do in the future, don’t I? I need to show off what I think I can accomplish,” Ling Qi finally said.

“Ha! See, I told you a muse was just a nudge,” Sixiang crowed. “So, what do you want to do?”

And wasn’t that a question.

Threads 14

Three days passed in a flash. Before she knew it, Ling Qi found herself striding out onto the same field Cai Renxiang had occupied earlier this month. The closed-off boxes and open stands that surrounded the field had only a scattering of disciples filling them, but she still felt a twist of her old nerves in her stomach.

<None of that now,> Sixiang whispered soothingly.

Ling Qi didn’t respond, only firming up her stance as she walked toward where her opponent waited. There was no fancy equipment this time, only a pair of musician’s stools, set across from each other on a raised wooden platform. The elder presiding over their challenge did not acknowledge her presence as she stepped up onto the stage.

The elder was not one Ling Qi recognized. Clothed head to toe in billowing purple silks and ribbons, Ling Qi had some trouble telling if the elder was even a man or a woman, let alone any other detail of their appearance. She met the gaze behind the eye slits of the colorful three-eyed, fanged mask and inclined her head in respect. The elder gave a tiny nod in reply, the chains of pearl and gold dangling from the fanciful crown that adorned their head jingling with the motion.

Ling Qi turned her gaze to Yu Nuan, and the other girl met her eyes defiantly, as the elder raised a black-gloved hand from the depths of their voluminous robe to silence the crowd.

“We begin now the challenge between Disciple 830, Ling Qi, and Disciple 812, Yu Nuan. It will be judged by I, Elder Nai Zhu.” The elder’s voice was an artificial sound, feminine but without inflection, with a metallic twang and underlying grind that seemed to echo beyond sound. “In accordance with sect rules, Disciple Yu Nuan has chosen a challenge of musical composition. This challenge will have two stages: individual presentation and conceptual challenge. The challenged party will present first.”Ling Qi eyed the elder as Yu Nuan took her seat, The heavy lute that Ling Qi had glimpsed before appeared in Yu Nuan’s hands. “My piece is titled ‘War of Beasts,’” she said evenly, her eyes drifting half-shut as she strummed the first deep, bass note.

There were no more words, nor any need for them. Ling Qi relaxed and immersed herself in the heavy notes as the sound expanded beyond the range of a mortal musician’s skill. She felt the drumbeats in her bones, and the woven chords of phantom players rumbled in her ears. Beyond mere sound, she began to see the story unfold.

Under the deep green eaves, beasts snapped and snarled, clawed and bit. Blood was shed again and again, soaking the earth only to be drunk in by greedy roots. From the fracas, a greater beast rose, trampling all beneath his mighty hooves until at last they all succumbed, baring their throats and bellies in submission. Yet the war did not end. When the beast grew old and faltered, the others snapped and teared at each other once more. Trees caught fire, burrows were ripped apart, and packs and flocks scattered to the winds.

War raged and ebbed again, and the cycle repeated. It was no singular cycle though. Even as the mightiest beasts warred over the whole forest, their lessers tore one another apart over groves and rivers, the least attacked each other for mere scraps, and others grew fat and mighty scavenging from the fallen. New cycles changed the details of the endless war, but never its true shape.

As the piece moved toward its ending, another great beast rose, shining with unparalleled might, yet in the shadow of its wings, the same old bloodshed continued unabated, and the fetid forest drank deep from blood-soaked soil. The music begged the question of whether this beast could possibly change the cycle. Would all the shattered groves and devastated warrens be worth a simple continuation of the cycle under another name?

As the imagery faded and the scent of blood left her nose, Ling Qi closed her eyes and let out a breath. It was easy enough to see Yu Nuan’s sources, though she had smartly stripped out any overt symbolism. After working with Cai Renxiang and her recent experience with the Bloody Moon dream, she had looked into the history of her home province.

Emerald Seas had the dubious honor of having changed rulers more than any other Imperial province since the Empire’s founding. With the Weilu, Xi, Hui, and now Cai, the province had seen four different ruling clans in its span. The disappearance of the Weilu brought six hundred years of strife, and the end of the Xi saw a millennia of low level conflict before fifty years of outright civil war had given rise to the Hui. The latter half of the Hui reign had been riddled with corruption and decadence, even if outright armed conflict had faded from the forefront. They, in turn, fell to Cai Shenhua one hundred and fifty years ago, abandoned by all of their vassals, reviled even by the Imperial court.

From that point of view, Ling Qi could understand the question. What was the point of all the conflict when one face merely replaced another? After being tested by the Bloody Moon and with Sixiang’s help in prodding her to realize her own convictions, Ling Qi had her answer though. The problem was that Yu Nuan was trying to find some meaning in a grand narrative when no such thing existed. As the Bloody Moon had said, humans had to find their own meaning.

Ling Qi gave her opponent a polite nod as she stood, and Ling Qi took her seat, carefully smoothing the folds of her gown as she adjusted herself for comfort on the small stool. Yu Nuan had displayed a great deal of skill, and her piece was impressive, but Ling Qi did not intend to lose. Her piece was no idle song nor a polite one to be played for parties. All the same, she had studied music under the Songstress of the End for the better part of a year.

“My piece is titled ‘The Songbird and the Star,’” Ling Qi announced, raising her flute to her lips. The first high, clear note flowed forth, and the air rippled with the soft sounds of phantom pipes and voices raised in song. On the stage, the sun dimmed and the air chilled, save for a small circle around Ling Qi herself, wavering and indistinct in its boundary.

She played and told the story of a little bird, afraid and uncertain. But this very familiarity with terror allowed the little bird to be bold. She hungered for more, always for more of what she lacked. She met a terrifying tree, haughty and mighty, standing alone without a grove and called her friend. Bemused, the tree offered her shelter, and the little bird accepted.

From the safety of the tree’s branches, the emboldened bird struck out and gathered many things to herself. She gathered precious jewels and plain pebbles alike, their value to others meaningless but priceless to the bird. With each new treasure, the bird’s fear faded a little more, and disquiet faded.

When the bird met a burning star, the star was so radiant that the little bird shied from looking directly upon it. Yet, for reasons the bird could not understand, she found herself circling the star more closely. At first, the bird believed that she merely craved the star’s light, which reflected prettily from her treasures, offering the potential to multiply their value beyond imagining.

The bird did not understand the star and did not trust her cold light. Even when the bird bargained with the star that it might shine on her nest and bring a sparkle to her treasures, the bird did not understand what she felt about the star. That came later.

One day, the little bird, who had grown proud of her treasured nest, sought to add a new treasure, a glimmering pebble with a crystal inside. But a hungry hawk spied the little bird in her quest, and the fear returned. She abandoned the pebble and fled, but she was still wounded for her trouble, even as the hawk also fled, blinded by the radiance around her nest. The bird's poor landing knocked her nest askew, spilling treasures to the ground far below.

The bird despaired, having thought she had beaten fear. All the while, the star’s light shone overhead, unchanged. Lying in her nest, listlessly repairing its broken edge, the Songbird thought for the first time in a long time of why she sought the star’s light. Though it blinded her, and she found its radiance cold, she finally came to understand. The Star sought to banish fear and create certainty, and some part of the Songbird loved it for that.

Her nest might one day fall and spill all her treasures for the world to take, but there was worth in the attempt to create something beautiful, worth in the attempt to offer light where there was none.

Ling Qi opened her eyes as the last notes faded and offered a brief bow to her opponent and the elder.

The masked elder regarded them both silently, and Ling Qi met Yu Nuan’s eyes across the stage. The girl was looking at her with a touch of... pity? Ling Qi felt her lips twitch in a tiny frown; that expression irked her.

“The second stage of the challenge will now begin,” the elder’s mechanical voice rang out, its bland delivery giving no indication that they were affected in any way by either of their pieces. “Challengers, resume your seats.”

Ling Qi nodded tersely and did as instructed, watching as Yu Nuan did the same across from her. This was the part of the challenge that she was uncertain about.

“Begin,” the elder instructed, and Ling Qi began to play.

Her song flowed forth, and the clearing formed, lit brightly by the star shining overhead just before flames overtook it. The howls of hunting beasts drowned out the Songbird’s soliloquy. The haughty tree splintered under the incidental impact of a charging beast, not even aiming for the scene but attacking another beast on the other side. For a moment, chaos threatened to engulf the scene she had so painstakingly woven.

She felt more than heard Sixiang’s gentle encouragement in her thoughts and put more into her melody. The Star blazed, and where it touched, fires went out, and beasts shied away, blinded and confused by its light. Once again, she heard the Songbird sing. But it wasn’t over. Something massive passed overhead, beyond her reckoning in scale, and the clearing was destroyed, crushed beneath a massive hoof.

Ling Qi played on, and a green stalk shot up from the stump of the tree. The Songbird sang and gathered treasures anew. Shadows swallowed the Star, only for its light to be reborn from its last glimmers. Again and again, random destruction and the uncaring whims of the mighty brought ruin, time flying by in a blur of decades and centuries.

Yet the strumming bass of Yu Nuan’s lute could not drown out the notes of Ling Qi’s flute. The blur of time began to slow. The clearing bloomed with new life, and trees grew anew. The Songbird sang, and the Star shone. All around, there was life. Under the Star’s light, generations of the least of beasts lived peaceful lives, not without strife, but with certainty, and the Songbird’s nest shone with many treasures indeed.

Then it ended again, fire and blood shattering peace, and Ling Qi mentally gritted her teeth in frustration at the other girl’s inability to see what she was getting at. It felt like trying to shift a mountain with her bare hands, but she forced their shared scene to slow still more, using every scrap of skill that Zeqing had taught her to make her own chords more dominant and drag the piece to her own tempo.

The Songbird laughed and sang as her many friends gathered in her shining nest. A family of mice lived and burrowed happily beneath the fields, days passing with the lazy certainty that came only from great plenty. A dozen, a thousand, a million other little scenes in the now, in the present, built on the stability that banished the snarling shadow that was fear.

In time, the peace ended, and Ling Qi did not contest her opponent during the end, but rather, the notes she picked out asked the question. Why?

Even if peaceful times would end, and fear would return, there was value in striving for happy days. There was more value in that than in obsessing over inevitable ends, the chaos that had come and would come again. Gather treasures, whatever they might be, and hold them dear, even if they would be scattered again. Seek stability because it is the foundation of defeating fear. Live for the happy moments in the present, rather than fearing the end in the future.

When the final notes faded and Ling Qi turned her attention back to her more physical senses, she found herself once again meeting her opponent’s eyes. The pity was gone, leaving only resignation.

“You’ve got your conviction, I’ll give you that,” the other girl said grudgingly.

“I appreciate you taking my challenge,” Ling Qi replied. “I wasn’t sure I still had it until I put this together.” She still felt horror, looking back at that dream, but she couldn’t dwell on it, only learn and move forward. To banish fear and create a place for herself, she needed to continue growing stronger.

Yu Nuan shook her head. “I‘m not sure it’s a great conviction to have. I think you’ll regret it when you really do lose something,” she said. “But the loser doesn’t have any right to lecture the winner.”

The elder cleared their throat, and they both fell silent at the echoing, grinding sound it produced. “This one concurs. Disciple Ling Qi wins the challenge by superior technical skill and presentation of her themes. Rank transfer will occur on the first day of the next month.” The initial words were quiet pitched for them alone while those that followed were a loud announcement to the stands.

Yu Nuan gave her a terse nod before turning away, and Ling Qi took a deep breath before doing the same

Ling Qi came to a halt as she reached the edge of the challenge field and found her liege waiting for her.

“I believe we should speak,” Cai Renxiang said evenly, “of several things.”

Ling Qi gave her a wan smile. “I had a feeling you might say that.”

***

“So, that was the source of your unease and that strange question,” Cai Renxiang mused.

They stood in one of the mountain's many training fields to take advantage of its privacy shields. This particular training field was one of her liege’s preferred venues, a field of paved stone filled with two-meter tall stone pillars spaced just far enough apart for a single person to squeeze between. They stood in a small cleared space in the center.

“If you noticed, why didn’t you ask?” Ling Qi questioned, standing straight with her hands hidden in her sleeves.

Cai Renxiang raised an eyebrow, meeting her eyes despite their difference in height. “It is not my business. Would you prefer that I pry into your personal matters?”

“I guess not,” Ling Qi allowed. “Did I do something wrong during the challenge? Or was it Yu Nuan? I mean, her piece wasn’t very flattering, but…”

Cai Renxiang shook her head. “No. If the Empire censured things so vague as that, it would have shattered already. The mere attempt was the final seal on the tomb of the second dynasty, not only for the anger it engendered but also the weakness and lack of confidence such actions betrayed.”

“You can’t have strong cultivators without some freedom of expression, I suppose,” Ling Qi noted wryly. “So that leaves my other question.”

Cai Renxiang crossed her arms, her expression drawing down into a frown. “I am aware that your reasons for swearing yourself to me were a mixture of mercenary and personal interests. I did not object to this as I have observed that your loyalty is strong despite that. Yet, I had not considered that you lacked understanding of what I desire, rather than simply being ambivalent to it.”

Ling Qi’s hands tightened inside of her sleeves as she looked down. “We haven’t spoken much about your goals,” she admitted. “But what you want is a peaceful and orderly society, isn’t it?”

“In the simplest terms, yes.” Cai Renxiang looked troubled, the gleam of light around her shoulders sending the shadows of the pillars flickering wildly.

“While I was composing that song, my mind kept turning back to what I saw in the dream,” Ling Qi continued as if her liege hadn’t spoken. “The death, the chaos, and everything else. I don’t want to see something like that again, and neither do you. That should be reason enough to support you, even if it isn’t sustainable in the long run. Having something better in our lifetimes is worth it.”

Cai Renxiang closed her eyes, and for a moment, the field was silent. When she opened them again, her gaze was cool and serious. “Do you know what I saw, after my fitting to Liming was complete?”

Ling Qi found her eyes watering slightly at the sudden brightness assailing them as she matched her liege’s gaze. “I can’t say I do,” she said, a touch of nerves entering her tone.

“I saw the world's inefficiency,” Cai Renxiang replied. “I saw the tangled threads where want overrode need, where systems constructed nigh wholly by self interest and greed left ragged holes in society's tapestry, leaving thousands to languish, unfulfilled. I saw the frayed weft of a city still reeling from a war of gods.”

Ling Qi recalled that Cai Renxiang would have been six years old at the time, and she found herself understanding some of the girl’s oddity. “You must have resented being forced to see something so ugly.” Though she couldn’t wax lyrical on it without time to compose, the petty ugliness of the streets and the savagery of the Hunt had given her similar feelings.

“Perhaps to a small degree, but Mother’s work will not be corrupted so easily,” Cai Renxiang said with a shake of her head. “I still see those things, and it fills me with the need to repair them, even as I am forced to engage with the broken loom it all hangs upon. If you never take anything else I say to heart, then take this, Ling Qi. I wish for a world in which all who fall under my responsibility can live ordered and fulfilled lives.”

“Even the ones who don’t fit into that order?” Ling Qi asked wryly.

“Most would fit in peaceably enough, if not for the damages inflicted by the current state of things. That is simply a matter of time and transition,” Cai Renxiang said confidently. “And those that remain are merely those whose requirements have not yet been accounted for. I firmly believe that with their needs met and acceptable avenues open for their wants, the citizenry of the Empire will be better and more productive than ever, benefiting everyone.”

The way she said it sounded so dry and mechanical, but Ling Qi thought she understood where the other girl was coming from. How much of the ugliness that she had known would disappear into the wind without desperation driving it? Not all, not nearly that, but a great deal.

“However, Ling Qi, there is something you must understand,” her liege continued. “This will be a thankless task. You will not be above my laws. I will not create them with your direct benefit in mind. I have bent certain rules in last year’s proceedings, but I will not weave such expectations into the foundations of what I seek to build. The Outer Sect was a testing ground, and what occurred there is to be remembered and learned from, but it must be left behind. What occurred with Fu Xiang must never happen again. Do you understand that?”

“I do,” Ling Qi replied slowly. She would rather not get entangled in that sort of favor trading again anyway; it reminded her too much of the way things had been before on the streets. “Lady Cai, what you provide in ‘fairness’ is more than I would receive almost anywhere else, and I believe in your good intent. I will not step away from that.”

“As you say,” Cai Renxiang replied. “There is much more yet to say, but those are conversations for a more comfortable venue. Not the least of which is that I may have to reevaluate your role.”

Ling Qi blinked, raising her eyebrows in alarm. “What does that mean?”

“That your skills as a musician may be the more important one,” Cai Renxiang replied seriously as she stepped past her, heading for the exit. “You require more training and more than a little discipline, but a more public diplomatic role may suit your skills better. Come. I would like to discuss the thematics I would like you to incorporate for your performance at this month's gathering.”

Sixiang, silent until now, started laughing, and Ling Qi’s eyebrow twitched.

More mingling. Just what she wanted.

Bonus: Xiangmen, the Heavenly Pillar

Majestic is the Pillar of Heaven, the eldest of all trees, father and mother of forests.

Visible far and wide across the Empire, mighty Xiangmen stretches its eaves far higher than any mountain. Its trunk pierces the clouds, and its crown reaches to the very limits of the vault of heaven. Yet so pure is its existence that it casts no shadow on the lands beneath, and the power of its knotted roots flows into the earth for a dozen leagues and more, transforming the rolling hills at its feet into the most fertile lands in the Empire.

Within its trunk, nestled within its roots and adorning its branches, is one of the largest cities of the Empire. Only resplendent Shuilian City and the Imperial Capital itself surpass it in souls sheltered.

The great city which fills the pillar is divided into several regions. The Green Hills region is the first a visitor will reach, a great sprawling township in its own right filling the lands surrounding Xiangmen’s base. The hills here are not mere earth but follow the undulating growth of the Heavenly Pillar’s roots. The radiating vitality of Xiangmen fills the soil and speeds the growth of crops, ensuring the city never has a poor harvest.

Within are the rootways whose tunnels extend into the earth. The Upper Rootways are home to the city’s military. Forts and redoubts built within shaped knots in the wood guard passage to the halls above, brightly lit at all times by faint sunlight that filters through impervious bark and a multitude of colorful lanterns as even the stern purpose of these passages does not make them any less vibrant.

However, they cannot compare to the Pillarhalls, the great thoroughfares and spiralling streets which wrap throughout the great trunk of Xiangmen. Here, the true glory of the city is made clear in streets lit by knots filled with stained glass, filtered sunlight, and radiant lamps. Home to numerous artisans, craftsmen, and merchants, in the great markets of Xiangmen, even the most exotic goods in the Empire can be found in one auction hall, shop, stall or another.

As one climbs the uncounted steps which make their way up Xiangmen’s trunk, the city only grows more resplendent. Glittering mists drift in the air, putting minds at ease, sapping away fatigue and sparking the creative drive of visitors and residents alike, for Xiangmen is the City of Art!

Finally, high above, passages exit out onto the branches of Xiangmen, swathed in clouds. In the Cloudspires district, the great families of the city reside in palaces carved as much from clouds and dreams as wood. The great leaves of Xiangmen, larger than the sails of ships, rustle in the wind, and their song fills the streets and thrums in the palaces. Among the palaces are concert halls and galleries hosting many of the greatest artists and works the Empire over from across eons of history.

It is here among the clouds that the products of the Pillar are processed. Although none would be so crass and foolish as to attempt to harvest materials from Xiangmen itself, twigs and leaves are shaken loose from its branches on a somewhat regular basis. Of course, twigs of Xiangmen are equal to entire trees in volume, and so the carpenters and woodworkers of the city always have much work to do in making use of the most valuable and difficult to shape wood in the Empire.

Xiangmen’s leaves, too, are valuable beyond measure. Their extract is near priceless among pill and elixir makers, and the fibers of the leaves may be processed into many things. It is said that the Duchess herself used an entire leaf in the crafting of the gown which she presented to the Empress at her coronation.

Sap from the Heavenly Pillar is a much more rare product, only occasionally and briefly seeping free of cracks in the bark of the upper branches. Incredibly dangerous to harvest given the environment, it is nonetheless highly prized for both medicinal and culinary uses.

Visible too from the Cloudspires is the Ducal Palace where many of the branches of Xiangmen come together, fusing into a greenery shrouded mansion of utmost beauty hanging above the rest of the city. At its very top is the Court of Xiangmen where the Duchess holds court and decides on the many important issues which face the province.

Sung into existence by Tsu the Diviner himself, the Ducal Palace once hosted the first king of the Weilu in the savage days before the rise of the Sage Emperor. It was here that the young Weilu, ancestors of us all, withstood the last march of the Beast Kings. It was here that the Sage Emperor met the Conclave of Petty Kings which had divided the land against itself and brought them under his gracious rule, anointing from among their number a duke to rule in his stead.

Through the ages, Xiangmen has stood mostly untouched by the violence of the world. Never has it been sacked or burned, its population scattered. Violence has touched it many times, but none have ever risked the wrath of the Heavenly Pillar by seeking to raze it. Thus, among scholars, Xiangmen is sometimes called the City of Memory where truly ancient workings may be found still, hidden in shadowed corners and forgotten halls.

Yes, even in hard times, Xiangmen has prospered, and from its roads, prosperity and funds have flowed back into less fortunate locales, rejuvenating the province again and again. This has only accelerated under the great Duchess Cai! New roads snake out from the Green Hills, connecting to newly settled villages, harvesting resources long left fallow. For many millenia, Xiangmen has endured, but at last, once more, the city grows!

- Excerpt from a leaflet, spread among other cities to attract visitors to Xiangmen

Threads 15

“Each art is composed of a number of forms, patterns of qi which are woven into the cycling of your qi to empower spirit and flesh. Techniques then, are the active use of those patterns, projected through carefully attuned channels,” Elder Heng’s reedy but steady voice traveled well, perfectly audible even in the far back corner of the lecture hall Ling Qi had seated herself in.

“However truly mastering arts of the third realm is not merely a matter of techniques and attacks,” Elder Heng continued. “Art’s developed solely for the first and second realm are simple utilitarian things, and where they are not, it is because they are offering training for the use of more advanced arts.”

Ling Qi’s ink brush swept silently across the paper. Cai Renxiang didn’t need her to take notes anymore, but she had found it was a good habit, and it helped her improve her handwriting besides.

“For you, who have reached the third, and who may aspire to the fourth, the true importance of mastering arts is what scholars call the ‘insight’,” Elder Heng said, shaking out his sleeves. Then raising his hands, he drew streamers of silver qi from the pool below him, shaping them into complex patterns. “Qi is the building block of reality, and the patterns of a third realm art are statements about reality. In practicing and meditating upon these patterns, you meditate upon these statements.”

Even as she took her notes, Ling Qi’s thoughts wandered a little. She wasn’t the only one who had won her challenge, Meizhen had risen up to the lower ranks of the seven hundreds, a memorable display by Xiulan carried her into the upper ranks of the eight hundreds, and a less memorable medicine mixing contest left Li Suyin in the mid eight hundreds.

“In mastering an art, you contemplate the thesis of its maker and draw conclusions from it,” The patterns of silver light around the Elder shifted, twining into ever more intricate patterns that whispered of meaning and action. “This is the insight. In mastering an art, and taking insight from it, you carve that belief into your soul, and take another step in building your way.”

Ling Qi frowned a little watching the patterns. She had already done something like that, hadn’t she? When she had mastered the Argent Mirror, she had resolved not to lie to herself. Maybe that was why the events of the dream struck her so hard, where in earlier life she had done questionable things without nearly so much pain.

Even if she wanted to, she wasn’t capable of rationalizing her choice as anything but the naked cowardice it had been. Not any more.

“It is this which makes the third realm the lengthiest stage in your cultivation thus far. At each stage of the realm, you must seek insight into yourself, and in time tribulations to develop your path further,” Elder Heng continued. “The ultimate goal of the third realm is the creation of your Domain Name. First through insight, and then through the development of your own arts, and finally the tribulation that will set the Name of your Way. Most stall on this road, unable to develop a cohesive meaning for their lives. It is no easy process, and you will make sacrifices on the way.”

The air around the Elder shimmered, and for a moment he seemed even more translucent than normal. For just a moment the stern old man’s face flickered, revealing a featureless mask of silver. “Those who walk to the summits of cultivation change themselves, cut things from themselves, and one cannot retrieve what is discarded.”

Ling Qi remembered Elder Jiao’s words, and the genuine fatigue in the normally bombastic man’s voice. Her grip tightened on her brush, blotting the ink. Taking a deep breath, she refocused her thoughts on the lesson, now jumping off into the mechanical minutiae of arts.

She would not be one of those who stalled in the third realm.

***

Of course, not all lessons took place in lecture halls.

The last few hours had been exhausting. Keeping up with a higher realm cultivator setting a deliberately punishing pace through difficult terrain was no easy task, let alone one who was deliberately making some small effort to throw them from her trail and lose them in the twisting, misty vales that lay between the higher peaks. Still, she had made it to the end, along with her ‘classmates’.

Ling Qi stood at attention in line with a half dozen other disciples, none of whom she particularly recognized. Two were only a few years older than her, but the other four were clearly older men and women, all caught in that halfway state between the second and third realms, or in one case, fully second but on the edge of breaking through. She felt awkward being the youngest yet also the highest cultivation.

She was a little surprised at her fellow disciples’ attitudes. The two fully third realm disciples, with ranks in the lower half of the eight hundreds, had eyed her with envy and some resentment. The rest, who Ling Qi estimated to be in their early thirties and who held ranks in the nine hundreds, seemed ambivalent but otherwise nonchalant about her. Perhaps that was simply military discipline, seeing as they had all been promoted from within the Sect’s army. They were probably used to being overshadowed by much younger people.

Of course, no one was looking at anyone else right now. She was pretty sure the fourth realm core disciple currently examining them would put anyone who showed such a lack of attention into the ground.

The young woman standing across from them with her arms folded behind her back had managed to remind Ling Qi of her first physical cultivation instructor before Ling Qi had even heard her name. Guan Zhi resembled her father in other ways as well. Scandalously dressed, wearing only a tight, dark green cloth wrap that covered her chest and little else and form-fitting pants of a lighter shade tucked neatly into sturdy black boots that rose almost to her knees. Cloth bandages wrapped her forearms and hands. Her long hair was tied back in a single, tightly braided tail.

<Not going to ogle this one?> Sixiang asked idly. <Usually, you can’t get enough of muscles, even if this one isn’t as bulgy.>

Ling Qi kept her eyes ahead and her expression studiously straight. <Still not interested in women, Sixiang,> she reminded.

<Right. I keep forgetting how that division works. Is it really only the reproductive bits that->

Thankfully, Sixiang’s musings were cut off as their instructor began to speak. While her voice was feminine, she had her father’s same air of command and brooked no inattention.

“Good. At least you can all stay at attention. The seven of you have been screened for introduction into the officer level of the scouting and skirmishing forces.” Guan Zhi spoke in a quick, clipped tone, unmoving from her starting position. “It is a dangerous duty. We act with less support than our main branch comrades and often undertake missions of greater personal danger. As an officer, your responsibilities will only increase. For the remainder of the year, you will all receive training in small unit tactics, reconnaissance, and various other minor but still crucial skills.”

Ling Qi had known that the Sect would be offering military tutoring, and the start of the third month had brought its start. Even if she was going to be departing in two years, she would gladly take advantage of it. So long as she was in the Sect, she was a member of their forces and entitled to attend the lessons. Giving young nobles a taste of responsibility and discipline was part of the Inner Sect’s purpose after all.

“I will oversee the instruction of those of you promoted from the actual Skirmish Division,” Guan Zhi continued. “You do not require lessons on the basics, only the additional responsibilities that arise from being an officer.” Ling Qi sensed a tiny flicker of pride and a minute straightening of stances from the older and lower ranked disciples. “For the three of you remaining, you will be acting as understudies to current officers. Follow their instructions exactly.”

Ling Qi glanced at the others, seeing them surreptitiously looking around as Guan Zhi gave a sharp gesture to the other disciples and began to lead them away.

“Still so inattentive, Junior Sister Ling?” Ling Qi nearly jumped out of her skin at the smooth male voice that spoke as if directly in her ear.

She spun around on instinct, bringing herself face-to-face with her one time tutor, Liao Zhu. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other remaining disciples receiving similar frights from those she assumed to be their own instructors. Liao Zhu looked much the same as he had when she had seen him a few months ago. The tall, muscular boy still wore an open vest of leather, hung with a dozen or more black knives, and a silver-fanged demon mask over his lower face. The only new feature she noticed was a star of scarred flesh on his left shoulder.

<Nothing wrong with this one though, right?> Sixiang needled.

“Senior Brother Liao’s skill is still too great,” Ling Qi replied, ignoring the pest in her head as she offered a small bow. “May I ask what Senior Brother’s lesson plan is?” Despite herself, she found her eyes drawn to the red crescent tattoo around his eye. She felt a knot of worry about going alone with someone who was associated with the Bloody Moon.

“As the lovely and redoubtable Guan Zhi said, you must first learn the basics of a skirmisher’s duty before taking up the duties of an officer,” he answered seriously. “Today, and for much of the rest of the week, this skilled brother will be familiarizing you with terrain and the signs of nomad movements in it, as well as the marks for supply caches and signal language. Come along then, Junior Sister. We have no time to slack off.”

She stared at his back before following him as he leapt up to a higher trail a few meters above the cliffside they had stopped on. They swiftly left it behind, splitting from the other recruits as they and their tutors took different paths into the mountain vales.

“Could you explain what exactly a skirmisher does, Senior Brother?” she asked, voice carrying on threads of music despite the wind whipping by as the ground blurred by below them.

Where Ling Qi supplemented her movement with minor bursts of flight, Liao Zhu simply seemed to blur from one outcropping or scraggly tree to the next. Ling Qi could have done the same she supposed, but doing so would have required that she use an actual art whereas she sensed no such thing from him.

“It is in the name,” he replied, turning around to face her despite continuing his path. He seemed to suffer no loss of grace or coordination for leaping and jogging backward. “The Scout and Skirmish division ranges outward in smaller groups than our more regimented brethren in the proper combat core. We are often tasked to travel in pairs or even alone. Our duties involve tracking and monitoring the movements of our enemies, the Cloud Nomads, as well as less human threats. We are also tasked with checking those movements often enough, if the matter is too small to require a full regimental movement. As an officer, you will be responsible for delegating tasks to lower ranked members in an assigned region and organizing larger operations.”

Ling Qi’s brows crinkled in worry. Could she really do something like that? She supposed she had to learn to be responsible for other people in enemy territory given her likely stint as a baron on the border, but all the same… She found her eyes drawn back to his tattoo. Although she had somewhat come to terms with the dream, could she really be relied upon in danger?

“Has something marred my handsomeness, Junior Sister Ling?” Liao Zhu asked lightly as he landed with a heavy and deliberate thud on a small, scrubby cliff. Ling Qi landed beside him a moment later, and a glance showed her some signs that there had been something here before them. Ash and scorched bones were mixed into the dirt, and a clump of fur clung to a thornbush off to their right. Her tutor seemed uninterested in it at the moment. “Or is it about the blood and regret that stains your spirit?”

Ling Qi stiffened. Of course someone several stages above her would notice. “I had an unpleasant run in with your patron,” she answered, more than a little stiffly. “Shouldn’t we focus on training, Senior Brother?”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” the young man replied, seating himself on a boulder and cupping his masked chin in his hand as he observed her. “But a lesson to a distracted student is a wasted one. Tell me, which side did you fall on in that terrible dream?”

<Maybe not. This guy is pushy,> Sixiang grumbled. <Given his patron, I guess it’s no surprise.>

Ling Qi supposed that it was pretty likely that someone who had earned the Bloody Moon’s favor had gone through a site dedicated to her. “The Hunter King,” she said shortly. “You?”

“Both and none at one time or another,” he said with a chuckle. “I tried so many times for a satisfying outcome, and always, I have failed.”

Ling Qi stared at him. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

“It is my nature. I could no more stop than you could cease collecting your treasures, Songbird,” Laio Zhu shot back, making her flush. Had he been at her challenge or had he just heard about it? “Do you know what would have happened had you sided with the rebels?”

“... They would have lost anyway. It would have been futile against a White cultivator,” Ling Qi said.

“Not so!” he contradicted brightly, leaning forward. “For given enough time, the rebel King would complete the ritual he had been preparing and strike a terrible blow to the Hunter, allowing him to be fought!”

“Oh,” Ling Qi said dumbly, feeling even worse than before.

“Of course, with the Hunter King slain, the rebels would then swarm out, burning and killing with abandon, to clap their former brethren in chains for use as labor to rebuild that which the Hunter King had destroyed and greater projects still,” Liao Zhu explained, meeting her eyes without blinking. “Or indeed, the brethren kings could both die in the clash, and the chaos would spread until at last, the rebels were extinguished at great cost, solidifying the iron grip of the isolationists of the Weilu for all time, as it did in the waking world.”

Ling Qi knew better than to ask what the point of the dream had been then. She knew that there wasn’t one. “It was cruel and pointless to show me that,” Ling Qi asserted. “She stopped my spirit from giving me context and berated me at the end, despite saying that there was no lesson. Why?”

“Vengeance is cruel,” Liao Zhu replied with a lazy shrug.

“She’s not supposed to be just vengeance,” Ling Qi snapped.

Liao Zhu’s eyes wrinkled behind his mask, and she knew he was smiling. “Justice is a wholly artificial thing. It is born of human desire for order. It cannot care about the happiness of the individual, else it be perverted. Justice is cruel.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Ling Qi replied stubbornly.

“Hah, well spoken!” he laughed. “I do not disagree, to a point, but that is the purpose of the dream, despite there being no inherent lesson. Would you even ask yourself these questions without the bloody reality forced into your face? Justice is decided by those with power. If you wish to make it align with your vision, then do so with your own hands, your own words. Convince those around you that your justice is correct. A great spirit cannot change. It can only be changed.”

“You really are arrogant, Senior Brother,” Ling Qi assessed. Perhaps it was the vein of music twisting through her spirit, or perhaps it was the clear sight given her by Argent Mirror, but she could feel his sincerity. Liao Zhu sincerely intended to change the nature of a great spirit.

Then again, maybe cultivators needed that kind of arrogance to reach the peak of cultivation.

“Your compliments will not dissuade me from making your training difficult,” Liao Zhu said, hopping lightly to his feet. “You are too intriguing to be allowed to wallow in mediocrity. Let us move on.”

“Wait, what about this place?” Ling Qi asked, glancing around in confusion.

“This?” he asked with furrowed brows. “Just a disciple's campsite. Worry not. By the end of this week, you shall not make such mistakes.”

Ling Qi sighed and followed after him. She had a feeling it was going to be a long month.

Threads 16

For three mornings every week, Ling Qi would be devoting her time to learning scoutcraft and tactics under the tutelage of her Senior Brother and later, the core disciple in charge. She was somewhat chagrined to learn, upon asking, that Guan Zhi was actually one of Elder Zhou’s nieces. She really did need to stop assuming things.

That aside, she was already learning much. Seeing that she had some basic skill in tracking from time spent with Su Ling last year, Liao Zhu focused on teaching her the more esoteric aspects of tracking that were beyond mortal skill. The qi of a Cloud Tribesman had a different texture to that of an Imperial cultivator, and a keen scout could detect traces of a bound spirit’s partner in the traces they left behind.

She was also learning the ways to detect the disturbances in the background energies of the world left by the passage of higher realm beasts and cultivators as well. It was hard to describe, but potent auras left behind ripples and eddies that could be detected long after their passing. She had begun to dampen the signs of her own passage instinctively over the last year, the lessons of Sable Crescent Step showing dividends.

It was very educational, and Ling Qi was sure that she was on the edge of an advancement in her ability to conceal herself, but it had not come yet.

Letting her idle thoughts drift away, Ling Qi turned her attention back to the present. “This is the place, huh?” she asked. It didn’t look impressive.

They had climbed down into the depths of the new valley, now full of nascent greenery. The river, once haunted and corrupted, bubbled and flowed freely once again, clear and pure. Here, though, at the valley’s deepest point, the resurgence seemed tepid. The grass was yellow and withered, and the other plants stunted. A yawning crack in the ground, three meters long and half that across, stretched deep into the earth. The darkness within was no barrier to Ling Qi’s sight, and she saw only barren rock below. By the crack stood three squat square pillars of stone, carved with formations beyond Ling Qi’s comprehension.

Li Suyin detected her unasked question as she fiddled with one of the many pouches on the harness she wore across her chest. “The reason we can approach and find it so easily is because we have the tokens that bypass the formation. Anyone else would be compelled to avoid this place. It also seals the hole against further contamination from outside, and vice versa.”

“There’s something poisonous in there then?” Ling Qi asked with a frown, peering down at the chalky floor of the cavern visible through the crack.

“It’s more of a mutual toxicity,” Li Suyin answered before gesturing for her attention. Li Suyin handed her a small blue pill. “This should shield you from the effects of the air below for six hours. If we do not go too deep. I have more if we look to be running longer.”

Ling Qi took the pill, and after rolling it between her fingers, popped it in her mouth. It tasted like the fresh, unsullied air of an unspoiled vale, with a hint of mint. Next to her, Li Suyin was doing the same, but with two pills. Presumably, Suyin needed one more due to the difference in their realms.

“Let’s not waste any time then,” Ling Qi said brightly. She’d keep her friend safe, and they’d leave this place laden with loot. She wouldn’t let it end any other way.

She landed on the cavern floor in a puff of dust. The small chamber around her was still and silent. The withered remains of fungal growths clung to the walls and floor, and the scattered bones of vermin lay half-buried in the chalky dust that coated the floor. A faint, sickly sweet scent of rot and decay made her wrinkle her nose.

Li Suyin descended slower, crawling down the wall with no regard for hand holds or grip. Ling Qi saw eight glittering eyes and fuzzy pink legs peering at her out of the girl’s backpack. Zhenli, Li Suyin’s spirit, wasn’t much of a combatant, but she could act as another lookout.

<I guess I should start paying attention now too,> Sixiang murmured. <I’ll keep you free and clear.>

<Thanks,> Ling Qi thought.

“Why do you have that pack and all of those pouches anyway? Did something happen to your storage ring?” she asked as Li Suyin dropped the last few meters, landing with a thud that seemed thunderous to Ling Qi, even if it wasn’t truly loud.

Li Suyin peered at her, and it occurred to Ling Qi then that her friend couldn’t see in the dark as she could. Ling Qi felt a small shift in the other girl’s qi, and the stitched patterns on her eyepatch lit up, casting a dim cone of light from its surface. “I want to save the space for reagents,” she explained. “And storage rings have trouble holding large numbers of complex or volatile formations.”

Right. Something about interference with the ring’s own formations. That was why talismans took up so much more ‘space’ than mundane objects, or even beast cores and such.

“Fair enough,” she acknowledged. “What’s our plan then? This is your expedition.”

“Just a moment,” Li Suyin said. She pressed her hand to the wall, and Ling Qi cocked her head to the side curiously as a half dozen skeletal mice scurried out of her sleeve, skittering away into the cave. They formed a shifting perimeter around the two of them. Li Suyin next threw a pair of pellets to the floor, producing columns of smoke from which emerged two hulking skeletons. Ling Qi raised her eyebrows. Impressive.

The first looked to be an evolution of Suyin’s first guard prototype. It had the skeleton of a bear sculpted into humanoid shape, save for its grinning skull attached low on its broad shoulders. The bones were bound together with silk and armored in overlapping bands of iron, and it clutched a heavy mace in one hand and a thick iron shield in the other. The second looked to have been crafted from a wild boar, its tusked skull sitting so low that it seemed to almost jut from its chest, and was armed with a heavy guandao.

They were only late second realm, but they seemed like solid constructions. Ling Qi wouldn’t have much trouble with them, but they would even or tip the odds for Suyin against any enemy of her own realm.

“Ready?” Ling Qi asked.

“Ready,” Li Suyin replied and stepped toward the tunnel that led further down.

Ling Qi found as they descended the twisting tunnel leading deeper into the earth that the further they delved from the surface and the sun, the more the caverns came alive. It began small. She saw stalks of wriggling, pale white fungus growing from the floors and ceiling, and they grasped weakly at the hems of their skirts as they passed.

Towering columns of fungal flesh stretched from the floor to the ceiling of the next chamber, bloated and putrescent, their size crushing them against the ceiling and sprouting spider webbing growths of pulsing blue white mycelium across the roof. Pale lizards with blind, bulging eyes and mouths that trailed fetid spores darted in and out of the waving tendrils, chasing insectoid puffballs that moved about with jets of spore-choked air.

Li Suyin seemed at ease, moving among the not-trees with a purpose. Ling Qi kept a wary eye open regardless, but it seemed this was not their destination. Li Suyin had already collected plenty of samples from here. Their destination lay deeper.

Ling Qi glanced back as they descended from the first living cavern. “So, what should I be worrying about? Everything has seemed pretty docile so far.”

“The third level is a bit more dangerous, and it is where I’ll begin harvesting,” Li Suyin replied confidently. “Um, the danger is mostly in carnivorous lizards and certain kinds of fungus. There shouldn’t be much real danger yet. Once I’ve harvested what I need, we can descend to the fourth. I turned back last time since I sensed a third realm presence below.”

Ling Qi nodded as they reached the bottom of the tunnel. The growth was thicker here, and the wildlife more aggressive, though still not much of a hindrance. For the first time in a quite a while, Ling Qi had the chance to exercise her skill with throwing knives. Her songs would be far too destructive against such foes. Despite the novelty, it was difficult not to sink into boredom as she made a game of pinning the various lizards and fungus bug things with her knives when they got too close.

Li Suyin’s guards did their share of pest swatting as well, and once, Ling Qi held back and let them handle a larger foe, a relatively strong second realm fungus beast that shambled out of the ‘woods’. The beast must have taken offense to Li Suyin’s cutting and sampling. They performed well enough, the shielded one summoning a barrier of wind that blocked the miasma of spores the creature released while the other efficiently removed its limbs and chopped it to pieces.

“I am sorry if this is a little boring,” Li Suyin said, shooting Ling Qi a nervous smile as the thing stopped spasming. “I have been through these areas several times. Things should get more exciting soon.”

“It’s fine,” Ling Qi dismissed. It wasn’t much of an adventure so far, but after her expedition with Shen Hu last month-

<Do you feel that?> Sixiang asked.

Ling Qi frowned as Li Suyin moved to harvest the dead fungus beast, looking down at the floor, drawn by Sixiang’s silent direction. There was a growing disturbance in the earth qi below her feet. A twisting, snarl with a ravenous, all consuming hunger at its core was approaching. Ling Qi’s eyes darted to the side as vibrations traveled up the fungus stalks, and a pebble began to rattle.

She flew to Li Suyin’s side, pulling her back as the floor beneath their feet shattered and fell. Her friend let out a surprised yelp but recovered well, landing on the now shattered, sandy slope of the sinkhole that had consumed the cavern for twenty meters around. Her constructs landed with heavy thuds, digging their weapons into the earth to avoid sliding further down. Even as they did, dozens of the beasts they had been casually slaying fell, squealing and fighting, sliding through the newly formed sand toward what lay at the bottom.

What Ling Qi saw down there, unhindered by the darkness, was hideous. Once, she might have thought it nightmarish.

Eleven beady eyes were haphazardly scattered across the misshapen face. It gazed balefully up at them from both sides of its vertical maw. Protruding a full meter from both sides of that maw were a pair of snapping, spiked pincers that gleamed with traces of metal in their chitin. The beast's body lay hidden, half-buried at the bottom of the sinkhole, and was shelled like a beetle's. Its two foremost limbs resembled the arms of an ape with three-fingered stubby, clawed hands large enough to grasp a human around the waist.

The thing inhaled, and Ling Qi braced herself, along with her friend, as a pair of scrambling dog-sized lizards fell shrieking into its gnashing teeth, immediately ground up into gore and meat. The thing let out a ululating shriek then and turned hungry eyes toward the pair of them.

Ling Qi grimaced as she felt a feeling of weight crashing down on her shoulders like the pull of the earth magnified. The feeling washed away in shimmering sparks of moonlight, but she saw Li Suyin grimacing, her shoulders drooping because of the pressure. Above, Ling Qi heard a faint crack, and a narrow fracture appeared in the ceiling.

It looked like they were getting a bit of excitement after all.

The air beside Ling Qi rippled, and her Singing Mist Blade wailed out. Ling Qi had made little use of her flying sword outside of spars yet, but now seemed like as good a time as any to start. As the blade darted toward the beast’s misshapen head and sang its discordant song, Ling Qi flooded her meridians with wood-aligned qi and activated her Deepwood Vitality technique, spreading its aegis across both herself and Li Suyin.

She grimaced as she felt her technique fail to dissipate the heavy chains of qi dragging at her friend’s limbs, but they were both fortified now. Her flying sword made the beast flinch and snap, darting around its head like a bothersome bee, so she moved forward with the next part of her plan. There was no time to talk and make true plans, but she trusted Li Suyin to follow up.

Ling Qi darted forward, passing Li Suyin’s twin guardians as she closed in on the beast. Compared to her, they moved in slow motion. A moment later, the beast loomed above her, malformed and ominous. She ducked under its swiping arm, her limbs shimmering and fading in and out of the cave's darkness. When she stood directly in front of the beast, she brought her flute to her lips and played the Spring’s End Aria.

The beast flinched at the spread of the unnatural cold, frost spreading across its carapace and freezing solid the sand beneath her feet. Eleven glowing eyes fixated upon her, and gaping jaws opened wide, the metal-threaded chitin gleaming in the pale light cast by her friend's eye patch.

Ling Qi heard something flying through the air and a puff as a tiny clay sphere shattered on the massive beast's raised forearm. The scent of fresh air and mint reached Ling Qi’s nose, along with a mild breeze that sent her hair fluttering. The beast found it much more distressing, letting out an earsplitting shriek as it pawed at its face and gnashed its jaws. It released another burst of heavy earth qi, but this time, it washed off of her without effect, and Ling Qi avoided the boulder that fell from above by taking a step to the side.

Capitalizing on and maximizing the creature’s distraction, she sent her flying sword spiralling on a direct course for one of the thing’s glowing eyes, and as it swatted at the blade, drawing a shower of sparks where the edge met chitin, she bent her legs and leaped, carrying herself up until she was level with the beast’s maw. Hoarfrost Caress howled from her flute like a wild blizzard, and the gore, slime, and saliva in the creature’s mouth froze. Chitin split, fangs shattered, and one of the beast's eyes frosted over and exploded violently, showering her in frozen chunks of ocular fluid.

How the beast shrieked! A swinging fist the size of her torso lashed out at Ling Qi’s side, only to careen wildly into the cavern wall as she dodged through it, becoming absence and void. However, the beast was not just flailing wildly.

Even as she fell, her eyes widened as the beast hunkered down, curling in on itself. She had only an instant to see its chitinous flesh writhing, dull spikes on its carapace sharpening and growing in fast motion before they fired in a burst, hundreds of organic arrows firing outward in a moment. She twisted through the deadly rain, avoiding most and letting others flow through her, but several struck regardless. Her shoulder, abdomen, and thigh were hit, and the faint viridian light playing over her skin rippled and shattered, deflecting the last of the projectiles.

Ling Qi’s ears caught no cry of pain from behind her either, only the staccato of impacts on metal and the feeling of her Deepwood Vitality fading. Her friend’s condition was confirmed when a skeletal crow zoomed past overhead and exploded violently in midair above the beast’s head, releasing a misty rain of rust-colored liquid. A little washed over Ling Qi, but it seemed benign to her. The beast on the other hand thrashed and flailed, some of the gleaming metals in its shell turning dingy and corroded, forming cracks in its carapace.

Ling Qi’s flying sword sang again, trailing sparks as it skated across the creature’s carapace, and Ling Qi felt its hunger take hold. Through her connection to the weapon, she felt it hungrily siphon away the beast's qi, venting it into the cavern around them in a miasma of dark grey mist. As the beast raised its head, brackish, frozen blood flowing in slushy chunks from its jaws, Ling Qi struck again. The winds of winter howled, and another two of the beast's eyes exploded, and a fracture formed in one of its great snapping jaws.

The cavern shook as it shrieked again, dust raining from the ceiling as the beast, maddened with pain, lashed out with spike-laden limbs. It swung furiously at the tiny figure darting around in front of it, shattering rock and sending up plumes of sand. The song of her sword carved into it relentlessly, and another clay vessel of fresh air shattered, darkening another eye as the ‘venom’ seeped in through broken chitin.

The next time the blizzard sang, the beast gurgled, its shriek choked off as its wavering aura broke, and blood and saliva froze solid in its throat. The beast spasmed, a pulse of heavy qi erupting again and making the cavern rumble ominously, before shuddering one last time, and falling still.

Threads 17

Ling Qi stood ready for another few moments after the creature’s last twitch subsided. Only after a swift kick to one of its remaining eyes failed to bring a reaction did she allow herself to turn around.

“Everything alright up there?” she called.

“Y-yes,” Li Suyin called back from the edge of the pit, her voice muffled. Ling Qi looked with bemusement upon her friend’s solution to the issue of being dragged down.

Li Suyin stood in a veritable cage of bone, metal, and silk formed by her guardians. The one with the shield stood below, its shield spiked into the ground. The simple slab of metal had expanded, twin plates of steel bursting from its sides to form a curved barrier. The other one stood behind, the hooked ornament at the base of its gaundao now stuck firmly into the ceiling at the end of a chain. It clasped the extended weapon in one hand while the other seemed to be holding the first guardian’s collar, but a second look showed that the gauntlet and armor had fused into a single piece. Metal flowed as she watched, the two guardians detaching from one another as Li Suyin peeked out from between them.

“I take it that that’s new,” Ling Qi said dryly, gesturing to the dead beast.

“Nothing like that has come up here before, no,” Li Suyin replied with a frown, making her way down the slope carefully. “It could just be bad luck, but…”

“You did have a way out with you before, right?” Ling Qi asked worriedly. While Li Suyin had weathered the peripheral of the fight fine and even helped distract the creature, she didn’t know if her friend could have handled it on her own.

“I have an escape talisman,” Li Suyin answered, examining the creature. “You would think a predator like this would leave more signs, considering how destructive it is,” she mused absently.

“Unless this isn’t its normal hunting grounds,” Ling Qi offered.

“Well, we can determine that later,” Li Suyin replied, reaching into her bags to retrieve a leather surgical mask and a pair of goggles. “I need to harvest this! A core this potent will be a great boon for my work.”

Ling Qi sighed and resigned herself to standing guard while her friend butchered hundreds of kilograms worth of beetle monster. She was glad Suyin was happy, but should she really be this blase about a threat to her life? What had happened to the wilting girl who hated fighting and blood?

“Do you think we should follow its trail?” Li Suyin asked, crouching near the beast’s oozing maw. “I had scouted out a path to the third level already, but if this leads back to a nest… There could be so much more to find.”

Ling Qi raised an eyebrow. “You want to tangle with a bunch of these?” she asked incredulously.

Li Suyin shook her head, and she flicked her wrist, drawing a carving knife the length of her forearm from storage. “There isn’t enough nutrition in this region to support multiple adults of this size. It would be a mated pair at most. The upper caverns would be stripped bare if there were more. We might find juveniles or even eggs though! A sample of the carapace still in development could advance…”

Ling Qi watched as her friend sank the knife into a crack in the creature’s carapace, and the formations on its blade glowed, even as a spurt of blood stained Suyin’s facemask. She listened to Li Suyin discuss the improvements she could make to her constructs.

What a change that she was the one feeling a little timid.

But one way or another, they were going into dangerous territory. It only made sense to follow the obvious trail, and she couldn’t afford to start jumping at shadows. She had handled the beast easily enough, and Li Suyin had acquitted herself well.

Of course, having decided that, Ling Qi could only wait for Suyin to finish. Butchering the bug-thing took the better part of two hours. Oh, Li Suyin needed her help once or twice to pry a section of chitin too thick to cut open, but Ling Qi had little to do aside from keeping watch.

Eventually, after the fist-sized greasy black lump that seemed to be the beast’s core and many kilograms of chitin and tissue had vanished into Li Suyin’s and Ling Qi’s storage rings, and with the butchered corpse dragged out of the pit, they were finally ready to descend. Ling Qi ended up carrying her friend down, looping her arms under the shorter girl’s. With so much stone converted into sand, there was nothing to attach a grapple to.

The bottom of the tunnel lay half a hundred meters down. The walls glistened with the slimy secretions of the beast they had killed, but they were at least solid. Ling Qi glanced at Suyin as the other girl released her guardians from storage again. She was glad they were moving again, but…

<I think it’s kind of cute,> Sixiang commented lightly.

Suyin’s arms were caked up to the elbows in chunky black and green gore, and her facemask and smock weren’t much better. Ling Qi glanced at her own hands, speckled with bug goo as they were. Her gown had repelled the gunk almost violently, thankfully, so it was just her hands and forearms stained with gore.

“You really have changed quite a bit, haven’t you, Li Suyin?” Ling Qi mused aloud as Suyin sent a pack of skeletal mice skittering down the passage to scout.

Li Suyin looked to her in confusion, her gleaming eyepatch contrasting with her pale blue eye. “What do you…?” She glanced down at herself then and gave a sheepish shrug. “Medicine is a dirty profession,” Li Suyin continued, somewhat self-consciously. “You have to deal with many things that others find hard to look at or disgusting. I suppose I have just adjusted to it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Ling Qi hummed as they began to move forward, walking quietly down the lopsided tunnel. “I am surprised that you have gone so far with these constructs though. Surely the Sect had resources that needed less reverse engineering.” She had treated the pale manual’s constructs as more of a hobby. Even the Ossuary Horror was more of a distraction tactic for her than a core part of her combat style.

“Sometimes, things shouldn’t be beautiful,” Li Suyin said. “Isn’t it better not to hide the nature of some things?”

“I suppose not,” Ling Qi said. “They don’t need to be pretty to work.”

“It might be a little childish, but I admit that I like the idea of turning things people consider unpleasant to good ends,” Li Suyin said. “After all, so many things considered virtuous are…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Ling Qi hummed in reply, not really sure what to say.

<She’s having fun with the idea of inversion of aesthetics is all,> Sixiang whispered. <Like the frost flowers Hanyi showed you. Beauty arising from desolation.>

<Kind of inferring a lot from a little, aren’t you?> Ling Qi thought back dryly.

<I’m a muse. That’s my job,> Sixiang shot back.

“Ling Qi?” Li Suyin asked, glancing over at her as they paused at a curve in the tunnel, waiting for Suyin’s scouts to return.

“Just chatting with Sixiang,” Ling Qi replied, “about the aesthetics of your constructs.”

Her friend blinked, looking befuddled behind her mask. “Oh. What do they think?”

<She should mix elements of traditional attractiveness into the work. The uncanniness of the contrast between the attractive and repulsive elements will enhance the image she’s going for,> Sixiang rattled off.

Ling Qi blinked slowly at the response before relaying it. “Sixiang thinks you should use some conventionally beautiful elements in the mix. The contrast will improve the overall unsettling vibe.”

Li Suyin frowned. “Um… I see. I will take that into account.” She did not sound as if she was sure of that at all. The conversation petered out as they turned their focus back to exploration.

The tunnel wound for a fair distance before breaking out into empty air. They emerged on the wall of a chasm, too deep for even Ling Qi to see the bottom of. The yawning gap simply stretched down until all Ling Qi could perceive was undifferentiated gray. They did, however, emerge on a sloping cliffside so there remained a trail of slime and scrapings to follow.

On the way down, Ling Qi saw many things skittering and flying in the darkness in more shapes than she could count. Some ignored them while others stared down at them with inscrutable eyes. Ling Qi remained on guard, but none seemed prepared to attack. She still felt relieved when their trail led back into a tunnel and away from the abyssal chasm. Eventually, they came to a wide, circular chamber some forty meters across with a floor of soft white sand. The bug thing’s qi marked the place as deeply as the gouges and scratches left by its limbs did. Another two tunnels led deeper into the earth, seemingly natural this time.

As Li Suyin hurried to examine discarded moltings and fragments of shell scattered across the cavern, Ling Qi peered around carefully, her flute in her hands. She felt an itch, a feeling in her gut, telling her to stay alert. But after nearly a quarter hour had passed and nothing had happened, she still very nearly leaped out of her skin when the sand off to her right stirred.

The shifting grains mounded up as something beneath burrowed upward. Ling Qi had a moment to see some pale-skinned and grub-like thing beginning to emerge before the single sharp note that she blew from her flute blasted the top half of the creature into a sticky red and green mist.

Li Suyin paused in harvesting the empty moltings in the echoing silence that followed, and Ling Qi felt her nerves somewhat subside. It had only been some kind of weak beast, no more than a first realm.

Why hadn’t she felt its approach though?

“A scavenger…?” Li Suyin proposed, even as her clanking guardians moved into more defensive positions.

Ling Qi focused, and behind her eyes, Sixiang did the same. Her eyes rippled silver, argent and lunar qi mingling to enhance her senses still further. She felt it. They were not presences per se, but a disturbing sort of absence like a shadow glimpsed in a dark forest. The sand boiled beneath their feet, and this time, the creature that emerged was not alone. Ling Qi got a better look, and she wished she hadn’t.

Their flesh were glistening and pale like a maggot’s, and their movements betrayed a repellant softness at odds with their shape. The creatures resembled humans, if humans had been forced to crawl on all fours like bugs until their limbs bent unnaturally out, lending them a skittering, rodent-like gait. Their heads were worse. Eyeless and bald, their pale, blue-veined flesh stretched thin over empty eye sockets. Bristling whiskers protruded from their otherwise hairless skin just below their elongated nose and chattering teeth. Their visages were like some hideous combination of human and rat.

Now that she knew what to look for, Ling Qi could feel the shadow of even more presences from further down. They were under the sand and down the tunnels, a creeping horde that she could not count. Even now though, Ling Qi wasn’t worried. The creatures, within the bounds of the first and second realm, were weak.

Ling Qi played, and her mist rolled out, engulfing the pale and skittering beasts as they turned their snouts and sniffed the air. Crimson eyes and black claws bloomed in the mist, and the creatures were torn apart, their soft flesh like paper before the claws and fangs of her phantasms.

Yet Ling Qi could feel greater presences amidst the sea of not-qi like the ripples left by a larger fish. There were at least three third realm entities coming up from below, though none were above the first steps into the realm. Even deeper than that, Ling Qi thought that she felt the presence of still more, but at this distance, it was impossible to be sure.

“Ling Qi?” Li Suyin called through the mist, moving to stand next to her as more rat-things emerged into the mist only to die. “There is still a great deal more to harvest here. Do you think you can keep these things away?” she asked, peering down at the twitching corpse of one of the rat things.

Ling Qi grimaced, letting her qi carry the tune while she spoke. “I can’t count how many of these creatures there are, but there’s some third realms approaching.”

Li Suyin winced. “I suppose we should begin retreating then. The molts will have to be enough. I was sure that I found the signs of a nest though...”

Ling Qi considered her options. She looked out at the pale, thrashing forms swiping and hissing at the phantoms in her mist. She remembered the promise she had made to herself last year, that she wouldn’t allow herself to be chained by fear. She remembered, too, the sobering experiences of learning just how high the mountains rose. Feeling creatures rising in such vast numbers gave her unsettling flashbacks to the horde of rats she had been part of in the Bloody Moon dream, but this was hardly the same, was it?

While she had learned that fear couldn’t be conquered so easily, she wouldn’t let herself become a coward. She wouldn’t treat her friends like they were made of glass.

“Keep looking for the nest,” she directed. “I can hold them off.”

<Oh boy, this is going to be messy, isn’t it? Damn it, I wish I had finished what I was working on…> Sixiang lamented.

<Just keep me clear,> Ling Qi thought to Sixiang as she raised her flute, preparing to play again. To Suyin, she said, “Stay away from the center, Suyin. My other art is less ally-friendly than my mist.”

Li Suyin glanced at the tunnels then back at her as the echoing sounds of many scrabbling feet reached them over the dying wails of the burrowers. She gave a determined nod. “This will not take long. Yi, Er, begin search and excavation,” she spoke in a clipped tone, sending the constructs into motion.

Ling Qi smiled. She really had to talk to her friend about her naming sense. Zhenli was fine, but calling her guards “One” and “Two”? That was just dull.

<We’ll have a chat with her later,> Sixiang laughed. <Better get playing though.>

Threads 18

Ling Qi raised her flute to her lips, looking back at the eyeless visages of the rat things that were finally beginning to orient onto the two of them through the mist. There were more than a dozen of them, and the sand bulged with more burrowers. Ling Qi resumed her song, flowing effortlessly into the echo that had been kept going by her qi. The sound of her flute echoed eerily in the small cavern, turning twitching heads toward her as she strode towards the center.

She began the Starlight Elegy, and the cloying mist grew colder and heavier. She watched dispassionately as a particularly quick rat thing that had thus far avoided the claws of her phantoms faltered and slowed, its limbs growing sluggish until a phantasmal beast tore out its throat with hungry fangs. The scene was repeated all across the cavern, again and again, beasts emerging just to die, most before they could even react.

These things were not normal, Ling Qi could tell. Beasts, even spirit beasts, did not charge headlong into certain death like this, not without good reason. She supposed that she would find out those reasons with the arrival of the third realms. A rat thing loped and skittered toward her, letting out a chittering shriek though blood-frothed jaws, and she watched as it veered away from her to crash into the wall, torn by phantasmal claws. Beasts like this… They couldn’t even overcome her Diapason to find her in the mist.

She began the final stanza of the Melody then, the Traveler’s End, and the image of a misty vale under the dark moon imposed itself over the sandy cavern. The echoing cries of her phantoms joined the melody as her qi lent them greater solidity. No more just disembodied claws, fangs, and hungry eyes, her phantoms were now stalking shadows in the shapes of beasts.

As she laid down the technique, the first loping forms became visible in the tunnels. Bulkier than their burrowing counterparts with rubbery grey skin and visages that were more canine than rodent, the twisted beasts howled and gibbered, claws scratching and tearing at the stone. In response, Ling Qi’s flying sword shot out from the mist, letting loose a discordant wail as it soared down the nearer tunnel, sending the beasts within shying back, brackish black blood leaking from their ears.

But there were two tunnels, and the ugly beasts were only stymied, not stopped. They poured into the cavern, first in pairs and trios, and then in growing numbers. The claws of her phantoms met resistance in their rubbery hide, though their hide could not stop them entirely. Larger beasts, less like twisted men and more like great apes in size and stature, stalked among their lesser kin, and their jeering howls hardened hides and sharpened fangs. Others had backs bristling with bony growths, tumorous and twisted but poking from diseased flesh with menacing points. Her phantoms were no longer enough against the growing pack. The creatures' attention was still on her, but Ling Qi was all too aware of her friend behind her, searching the walls of the cavern.

So Ling Qi ensured that their attention would remain on her. With the Traveler’s End complete, the mist called by the Forgotten Vale Melody would sustain itself, and so she began her second song. Ice crept over sand, and a handful of rat things that had found their way close through coincidence, pushed by the growing mob, chittered in pain as frost spread across flesh and blood began to freeze. Ling Qi grimaced as she felt the things’ oily qi draining into her, and she sidestepped around clumsy lunges and snapping teeth. Most of the oily qi washed against her skin, leaving her feeling oddly dirty, but a trickle of qi flowed back into her reserves, restoring some of what she had spent.

She had lost count of the number of beasts pouring into the cavern, and although the whistling wail of her sword lashed the bodies coming up the tunnels and her phantoms continued to do work, the mob of creatures were reaching her through the mazes of mist due to theraw crush of bodies. The cacophony of hisses and growls almost drowned out the echo of her melody. Yet she couldn’t afford to step back, and so Ling Qi made room in another way.

The third technique of the Frozen Soul Serenade was not one she had used often in active combat. It lashed out at everything nearby, regardless of whether they were friend or foe. Li Suyin was well behind her though, so she felt no need to hold back. The shrieks of the beasts and the haunting melody alike were drowned out momentarily as the frigid howl of deepest winter rang out through the cavern. The beasts nearest to Ling Qi did not even scream, the sound lost in their throat as flesh and blood alike froze solid. Those further back gibbered and yowled, partially shielded by their nearer comrades, but great swathes of their rubbery hides still froze and sloughed off or cracked and wept viscous, slushy fluid.

The fight was only just beginning though. The mob still numbered beyond easy count, and even the snarling storm of snowflakes that had sprung up around her in the mist, frozen moisture turning to short-lived snow, failed to deter the beasts. She felt the qi armoring the beasts growing thicker as more and more of the beasts reinforced each other, their filthy-feeling qi roiling and flowing together. Most still wandered off-course, getting turned around and running into their brethren, but Ling Qi was forced to duck and twist and dodge, avoiding a half dozen snatching claws and bony projectiles.

Looking over the writhing mass of flesh as they poured forward, the sheer weight shattering their frozen comrades, Ling Qi spied something new. There, crouched on the lip of the further tunnel was another creature, smaller than most of them. The others slid around it, never once approaching. The new creature, an eyeless thing with rubbery grey skin and a canine visage, resembled the creatures of the second wave the most. Yet unlike the others, it crouched like a man rather than a beast, and around its neck, she saw a necklace of glowing purple stones carved into strange shapes. In its right forelimbs, it loosely held a strange stone knife.

The thing let out a few barking yips that had the cadence of speech and then drove the knife into the sand. Even in the chaos of the scrum, Ling Qi felt the ripple of qi that washed over the horde. That one had taken the first steps into the third realm. Ling Qi did not have much time to think on that because suddenly, far fewer of the beasts were stumbling around, hopelessly lost in their effort to reach her.

Faced with the snarling swarm now finally pressing down on her position in more than dribs and drabs, Ling Qi stepped forward. Dark qi flooded through her limbs, and she flowed through the storm of attacks like a wraith. Ling Qi had no time for thought, only reaction. Claws and slavering maws reached for her, and bony spines screeched through the air. She moved perfectly, flowing around strike after strike, while other attacks passed through her form in puffs of dark mist.

All the while, she moved forward, every step carrying her further into her enemies’ reach. Soon, she was surrounded. Then winter sang, and beasts died. Claws that reached for her flash froze and exploded into pinkish mist, frozen blood swelling in suddenly rigid veins like the sap of a tree in the deepest depths of winter. She kept her eyes fixed on the third realm beast that was her goal. With a mental tug, she pulled back on her flying sword, recalling her blade from where it stymied the flow of beasts in the other tunnel.

For its part, the beast that was her target seemed aware of its situation. It let out an alarmed bark at her unstopped advance, scrambling backward even as it raised its knife defensively. Another pulse of filthy qi rippled out, and the beasts around her let loose with blood-curdling howls.

From the pores and jaws, a crimson mist began to emerge in thin streamers, mingling with the cloying fog of her melody. The claws of her phantoms, which had thus far still been tearing bloody lines in exposed flanks of dozens of beasts, began to deflect off of suddenly stony hides, and the creatures’ claws and fangs gained a metallic sheen that shone in the dull red light cast by the mist leaking from opened jaws.

Through her connection to her sword, she also felt two other third realm presences approaching. Thankfully, the influx of lesser beasts was finally beginning to taper off. She felt something soft and viscous strike her Singing Mist Blade then, and suddenly, it could not move, stuck to the wall by something clinging and jelly-like.

She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by the capture of her flying sword. From every side came attacks, their ferocity and power greater than before. Plumes of sand were kicked up in their wake, choking the already flooded battlefield further.

In that moment, all thought fled Ling Qi. There was only the cavern and the weapons of her foes. Viridian light gleamed beneath her robes as a facsimile of centennial bark spread across her skin, but she knew it would not be enough. And so, as she was attacked from every side, Ling Qi stilled.

Ling Qi twitched her head to the right, avoiding a lashing claw that would have taken her eye by a mere millimeter. She stepped, and her body flowed a meter to her right, reforming from darkness and leaving a volley of crimson spines to strike the sand where she had been. There was no wasted movement. She avoided claws by a hair’s breadth, grew immaterial to gnashing fangs, and let those few that she could not avoid skate off of viridian bark and rustling cloth, nothing more than glancing blows.

Ling Qi felt like she had finally understood the lesson taught by Sable Crescent’s Grace. She understood motion without motion and presence without presence. She found the moment of understanding fading quickly, but some knowledge remained, and she found herself dodging with a sable grace that she had not had before.

She leaned to the side, avoiding the flung corpse of a rat thing with hardly a thought, and her flute sang again of winter. Even through their armor and bolstering qi, a dozen beasts died.

Behind her, she heard a sound like shattering pottery, and glancing back, she saw Li Suyin standing by a hole broken in the stone wall. In the cavity beyond, slowly pulsating, fleshy eggs glowed with faint luminescence. At her back, Suyin’s guardians stood in a shield wall, and in front of them was a metallic cone atop a stake driven into the ground, hissing faintly as it discharged something into the air.

In front of her, two loping figures emerged from the second tunnel. Like the other third realm beast, they were smaller than the other creatures and carried tools. These two wore bandoleers made of some pale leather across their chests, hung with pouches. They unholstered spears from their backs, and cackling high-pitched laughter spilled from their snaggle-toothed maws.

Very few beasts were emerging from the tunnels now, but the cavern was still filled with the mass of flesh, despite her culling.

It looked like the real fight was about to begin.

Ling Qi considered her real foes, and they considered her in turn. The sounds of the gibbering swarm seemed to fade. The lesser spirits were effectively just the third realms’ weapons after all. As she stared at the knife wielder’s eyeless visage, Ling Qi admitted to herself that it was a relief to once again face down simple enemies, things that didn’t deserve mercy or consideration.

All at once, the world seemed to come back to life. Her fingers twitched, and she played the first note of the Elegy again. Her enemy’s eyes widened, and it let out an alarmed yip, raising its knife as if to ward her off. As the mists churned and thickened, encircling the knife-wielding beast, its own oily qi pulsed, and Ling Qi blinked as she felt the net of qi she had woven slide off of the beast and snap shut around one of the ape-like beasts instead. The ape thing let out a piteous yowl as her qi entrapped it, throwing its head back and forth in a wild panic as her mist cut it off entirely from its fellows. Ling Qi had no time to consider her technique’s failure though.

She dissolved into dark mist as a grey missile shot through where she stood a moment before, rematerializing atop the back of one of the many beasts still flooding the room. The spear-wielding beast that had lunged at her let out a high-pitched cackle as its oddly bent legs struck the ground and sent it rebounding toward the ceiling like a child’s ball. A second time, she slid to the side, avoiding by a hair the bone-tipped spear and the sizzling purple toxin that leaked from its tip, and then a third, she dodged, bending backwards to be almost parallel to the ground as the beast rebounded directly backwards, thrusting the barbed back end through the space her torso had just occupied.

The beast she had landed on had been pounded to the ground, but its fellows were not so impaired. In her distraction, the third beast had time to act as well. As she straightened up from her dodge, she saw it reach one of its twisted hands into a pouch and pull it back out, clutching a fistful of viscous black ooze. Ling Qi prepared to dodge a throw, but instead, the beast simply gave a light toss, letting the lump of goo land atop a pile of broken, frozen flesh that had once been several beasts.

The ooze immediately began to hiss and bubble violently, spreading and consuming flesh as it sunk into the shattered corpses. Ling Qi hesitated, unsure. She gave her flying sword a second mental tug but found it still entrapped, somehow stopped from even dematerializing. She considered again her foes and what she had seen so far.

Ling Qi dissolved into shadow. Uncaring of obstacles, Ling Qi flowed through the shadows of beasts, springing forth into existence behind the beast that had flung the ooze. Before the creature could so much as flinch, her flute sang a blizzard’s howl, focused down on a single point, and hoarfrost spread across its rubbery hide.

The creature cried out in pain, stumbling away from her with blood oozing from frostbitten patches spreading across cold-cracked flesh. The first one, the knife-wielding one supporting the beasts, was dangerous, but it was a danger in decline. Some of the weaker members of the mob were beginning to drop mewling into the sand, exhausted and lethargic from her Starlight Elegy. The direct attacker was dangerous - as she dodged repeated blows from its spear, she winced when a spray of fine purple mist erupted from the point of its spear, sizzling as it seeped through her renewed armor and burned against her skin - but it was a danger she could handle.

The third one, though, had entrapped her domain weapon and was doing something strange to the corpses. She would rather eliminate the unknown variable. She paid for her choice as she was nearly buried by the horde of beasts again. Here and there, she miscalculated by a fraction, and she felt the prick of teeth faintly through her armor.

Yet Ling Qi remained confident. While her qi was slowly draining because the trickle of pure qi Ling Qi was able to absorb from the tainted mass could not quite keep up with the liberal expense of her attacks, she felt like she was winning.

Keeping her focus on the yipping third beast as it rummaged through its pouches and scrambled away from her, she flowed again, bypassing the cloud of filthy-feeling yellow powder it flung up in her path. Again, her flute sang, but this time, it was without focus. Now that it was among the crowd, she might as well reduce their numbers while battering it with cold. This had the advantage of icing over the bubbling muck it had flung as well. Ice-crusted flesh cracked and squished beneath her feet as she danced atop the carpet of bodies. Tendrils of oily qi brushing across her spirit drew her eyes to the knife wielder. Its twisted face seemed to be showing a growing alarm. Inside her mind, Sixiang let out a tittering laugh and brushed away whatever the effect was with contemptuous ease.

She suffered another scratch as the spear-wielding beast managed to catch her off guard, cutting through cloth and viridian qi with a sizzling, acidic hiss, leaving a burning line across her shoulder. Its partner let out a low, defiant snarl as she bore down on it, ripping the entire pouch that it had pulled the ooze from and flinging it at her. Ling Qi dodged with ease.

Winter cried out again, and the third beast was silenced, just like the dozen of its nearby lesser kin. As the flurry of pink snowflakes fell around her, Ling Qi turned to face the other two and restrained a smile as she felt her flying sword tug loose of the dissolving trap it lay in. She called her sword back and sent it spiralling out at the knife wielder in a screaming blur. She met the spear wielder’s eyeless gaze where it crouched atop a frozen corpse and saw cold calculation in its body language.

The beast cocked its head to the side, and its snaggle-toothed maw stretched into an ugly expression that might have been called a smile. Ling Qi tensed in preparation. Then, she was left blinking, bewildered, as her opponent shot away, reducing the frozen corpse it had been crouched on into a mass of pink slush, and vanished down the tunnel it had come from.

The corpses beneath her feet rumbled ominously. Ling Qi shot straight up, carried on the wings of her cloak as the carpet of flesh erupted in churning black slime. Living beasts screamed as arm-thick tendrils of drooping sludge dragged them into the main mass, and the bubbles on its surface seemed to scream as they popped, the shadows of faces forming beneath the surface and fading just as fast as the mass began to spread.

Alarmingly, Ling Qi felt her mist dissolving where the slime touched, the qi infusing the water vapor draining away as if into a hungry void. Ling Qi grimaced as she once again played Zeqing’s song, and while the tendrils reaching for her froze and crumbled, she felt a leeching drain as the technique drew more than it should have from her reserves to do its work. Worse, it didn’t really feel like she had done the muck much harm. Its aura was already third realm and still swelling with power, and its rapid growth was filling the cavern fast as well. Even if Ling Qi could beat this thing, Li Suyin would quickly run out of room to avoid it if they remained here.

Darting out of the sky, Ling Qi snatched the half-frozen bandoleer from the body of the foe she had killed and held out her right hand, drawing the bodies of as many beasts as she could fit into her ring then shot away from the spreading mess at high speed. Through her sword, she could feel the knife wielder scrambling away as well, letting out alarmed yips.

“Li Suyin, I think it’s time to go,” Ling Qi said tersely as she rematerialized beside her friend. “You’ve got what you need, right?”

Suyin nodded quickly, glancing at the reaching tendrils in alarm. Half of the nest she had opened was empty by now. “Yes, I can’t carry any more as it is. I already had Yi set explosive charms around the entrance just in case, so…”

Ling Qi grinned tightly and patted Suyin on the shoulder as she recalled her sword from chasing the fleeing knife wielder down the tunnel. “Time to run then!”

Threads 19-Dreams 1

As they fled the cavern at Suyin’s top speed, the roar of explosions and collapsing stone at their back, Ling Qi could not help but laugh. No, she really couldn’t let fear control her because this is what being alive felt like. As they reached the top of the dead beetle’s tunnel that they had originally followed and Li Suyin stopped to gasp for breath, she saw a little bit of a grin in the other girl’s expression as well.

If she had followed her knee-jerk instinct and simply focused on keeping her friend out of danger, could Suyin smile like that? If she had treated Suyin like a fragile vase that needed to be kept on a shelf, wasn’t that insulting?

Perhaps she had been thinking of things the wrong way.

“Ling Qi, are you alright?” Li Suyin asked as she straightened up, her face still red from exertion. “You’re staring.”

“I’m fine,” Ling Qi said. “Are you satisfied with your take, Suyin?”

The girl nodded happily. “Yes! I’ve acquired so much more than I could have hoped for! And it was amazing seeing you fight like that. I’m sure that once I break through, we’ll be able to go even deeper!”

Yeah, Ling Qi decided. She had to think about what it meant to protect her friends.

***

In the days that followed their expedition, Li Suyin vanished into her workshop, and Ling Qi did not begrudge her for it. She hadn’t missed the way that Li Suyin’s eyes had lit up when she handed over the bandoleer she had torn from the beast's corpse. She expected her friend would be doing the equivalent of closed door cultivation for most of the month's remainder.

Ling Qi’s plans were not so far from that. She had been given one of Suyin’s meridian cleansing wands, and it would definitely be helpful for her efforts. Between the expensive pills purchased from the Sect market at the cost of most of her points and her newly improved cultivation, Ling Qi planned to make this a very productive month. However, the days when Ling Qi would thoughtlessly retreat into meditation without consideration for anyone else were well past, so Ling Qi was sure to take care of her obligations first.

Her friends were all settling into their own routines in the Inner Sect. Meizhen was getting comfortable in her new home, which wasn’t much larger than her own but was definitely better appointed. Xiulan was in the midst of heavy cultivation, catching up on arts which advancement had been stymied by her partial breakthrough.

Everyone was quite busy. Ling Qi found herself drifting to the archive when she was not making preparations for her upcoming cultivation binge or attending to Cai Renxiang. It was a center of activity, and Ling Qi still needed to keep an eye on her peers. While she wasn't sure if she intended to challenge this month, she could be challenged by another.

She hadn’t expected it to be so dull. Sitting in a corner, a tome on Imperial history open in her hands, Ling Qi tried to keep her mind from wandering. Listening to the murmur of small conversations throughout the archive, she thought she might go a little stir crazy. While she knew that she wouldn’t get anything really interesting with this method, the mundanity of a cultivator’s day-to-day lives still surprised her sometimes.

Remembering the cavern expedition and the nightmare before it, it seemed so incongruous that cultivators could still be interested in petty concerns when they were, one and all, people with real power at their fingertips in a world filled with tribulations and challenges. She was being unfair she knew, and she supposed she wasn’t any better. Hadn’t she spent yesterday morning just chatting with Meizhen about nothing in particular?

But it didn’t help that even Sixiang was silent again, leaving her alone in her own head to try and focus on other people when the siren call of cultivation was singing in the back of her mind. Sighing, Ling Qi refocused her eyes on the text in front of her, listening carefully to the snippets of conversation that reached her ears.

Then she found herself distracted again. This time, she was distracted by the feel of a familiar aura moving through her senses. A bolt of lightning stalked the archives, tense and crackling, tiny arcs of electricity snapping and coiling at any that dared approach it. There was only one person Ling Qi knew who cultivated heavenly qi to such an extent and singular purpose. At his side moved a frolicking wind that danced around the lightning, poking, prodding, and floating away laughing when the lightning snapped and crackled in turn.

“Junior Brother Rong, to make an enemy of the archivists so early in the year. You truly do excel.” She heard the second of the pair’s voices first, and it conjured to her the image of a rather pompous fellow.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. This is all the books, right?” the living lightning snapped testily. Ji Rong was as taciturn as ever, but it looked like he had made a new friend.

“Just the one more,” the other voice replied lightly, and Ling Qi heard the sound of leather striking flesh. He had presumably tossed Ji Rong another book.

“Fu Fan’s Guide to Administration for the Simple… Are you making fun of me, you windbag?” She could practically hear the twitch of Ji Rong’s eyebrow.

“Hmph. To show so little respect for your kind senior, Junior Brother Rong. Where did I go wrong in raising you?” The stranger laughed. “Off to the reading room, you. This Senior Brother has his own tasks to attend to.”

Ling Qi caught sight of the second speaker then, moving swiftly between the aisles in front of the reading area she occupied. His mustache was rather ridiculous looking, but he seemed pretty unassuming otherwise. That set her on edge; she couldn’t clearly read his aura. He was gone as fast as he appeared.

“Jackass,” Ji Rong muttered to himself as he slouched around the corner, cradling an armful of books. “What I get for askin’ that guy for help.”

He looked up then as he trod on the plush carpeting that marked out one of the reading areas in the archive.

Ling Qi restrained herself from matching his grimace with her own. “You never struck me as the type, Baron Ji,” she said dryly, eyeing the titles of the books he held. Treatises on leadership, logistics, and yes, administration, filled out most of the stack.

“What’s it to you?” he asked, meeting her eyes defiantly. “You think I’m too stupid to learn anything but punching or something?”

Ling Qi debated just leaving, but curiosity drove her to ask. “Why these books? Did my phantoms jar something loose when they were spinning you around?”

Ji Rong looked like he wanted to spit blood at the reminder of his loss. She found it funnier than she probably should have. “Dunno. Why do you care about the past all of a sudden?” he spat in return.

Ling Qi glanced down at the book in her hands that she had been casually perusing. “Even if it doesn’t matter, seeing the patterns is important, I think,” she replied, thinking back to her encounter in the dream and Senior Brother Liao’s own words on the futility of it. “I’ll leave you to your study,” Ling Qi said, closing her book and standing. There wasn’t much point in antagonizing him, aside from petty satisfaction.

And she had already indulged in that. Doing more would just be gluttonous.

As she moved to pass him by, Ji Rong spoke. “They aren’t any different,” he said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been a shit Boss in the Sect so far.”

Ling Qi paused, eyeing the scarred boy without turning her head. “Are you making the comparison that I think you’re making?” she asked, vaguely incredulous.

He let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, guess I am. Gang Boss, Baron, Viscount, Count, Duke, Emperor. It’s all a matter of scale, innit.” He shook his head. “I’m never gonna be leading packs in a fight like that Cai or her pet giant, but if a Boss is what I am, I’m not gonna be a shit one.”

“That’s not the kind of thing you should say, Sect Brother,” Ling Qi said dryly. “Please consider your words more before you tarnish the Sect’s reputation.”

“Whatever,” he snorted. “I’m outta here in a couple years anyway. Not gonna run off and leave her alone like the rest of those parasites.” He turned away from her then, resuming his path toward the reading desk in the far corner.

Ling Qi shook her head as she began to move toward the archive's exit. She supposed that statement at least answered clearly what was going on between Sun Liling and Ji Rong.

<Ling Qi, are you busy?> She paused as Sixiang spoke. Something about the spirit's voice felt insubstantial, or even fragile. It didn’t sound right.

<I’m not,> Ling Qi thought back immediately. <What’s wrong?>

<Nothing, nothing,> Sixiang laughed. “It’s just, uh, I might’ve put a little too much into my project. I’m almost done. I just need a little more… Could you find somewhere with a better background, Qi? Please?> Sixiang’s voice seemed to fade and waver in and out with every word.

What in the world had they done? Ling Qi thought with alarm, picking up her pace. Why would they do something dangerous without even telling her? Ling Qi had a sudden sinking feeling that she now knew how Meizhen felt sometimes about Ling Qi’s adventures.

Ling Qi made a beeline for the archive's exit, barely pausing to turn her book in. The moment she stepped outside, her feet left the ground, her gown snapping and rustling in the wind as she soared away from the archive.

She landed in front of her door in a flutter of silk and swept inside without pause, her steps taking her unerringly toward her meditation room. Between one step and the next, her silhouette flickered, skipping entire stretches of distance. In only moments, she was before the heavy door that marked the vent chamber.

Ling Qi opened the door with a shove, striding through uncaring as the stone slab reverberated with the force of its rebound from the wall. The silvery mist let off by the vent washed over her, tingling on her skin.

“Did you need anything else, Sixiang?” she asked aloud, brows furrowed. “This is good enough, right? I can find somewhere more potent…”

<It’s… f… worrywort,> Sixiang whispered. <S… down and relax… Want… show you.>

Ling Qi frowned mightily. The way her friend’s voice faded in and out seemed like ample reason to worry. However, she had already done what the spirit had asked, and as the door behind her closed and sealed, the clinging silver mist only grew thicker. She felt a trickle of the room's energies being drawn inward, the way it did when she cultivated here, so presumably Sixiang was already working to restore themselves.

She forced herself to take a deep breath and moved to seat herself. Sixiang wanted to show her something, and she would have to remain here until the spirit was done with whatever they were doing, so she might as well indulge them. Besides, even if it was only in her own head, seeing Sixiang would ease her nerves.

So, as she settled into a meditative position before the vent, Ling Qi closed her eyes and cut the flow of qi that served to salve her body's mortal needs for rest. It took only a brief moment of concentration after that to send her mind drifting off to sleep.

Ling Qi found herself once again seated atop a mound of cushions and blankets. Sixiang’s dreamscape had not changed much since the last time she had visited. The endless mounds of pillows and cushions were arranged more neatly with lanes between for easy movement. Stepping off of the mound she had awoken on, Ling Qi found the off-white ground to have the texture of fine cloth and the springiness of a high quality mattress.

“Sixiang?” she called, walking between the pillow mounds toward the sound of lapping water. “Sixiang, where are you?”

“Everywhere and Nowhere.” Ling Qi twitched as Sixiang’s voice emanated from the air around her, sounding floaty.

“That’s not very helpful,” Ling Qi replied dryly, crossing her arms and looking up at the rainbow mist that comprised the sky. “Seriously, are you alright?”

“Mmm, I think so,” Sixiang whispered. “I guess I gave you a scare, huh?”

“Just a little,” Ling Qi said. “Why were you fading out?”

“It’s like being a butterfly, you know? The caterpillar can’t reach the world outside its cocoon,” Sixiang mused.

“But now I’m inside the cocoon too,” Ling Qi said, shaking her head. “Why did you need me to come to a site then?”

“I didn’t want to nap for a month like that sleepy boy of yours,” Sixiang laughed. “And, hm, I think it will be better this way. I want to show you something.”

Ling Qi felt a tug at her right hand, and she had the impression of phantom fingers grasping hers, urging her along the path. Not needing any more prompting, Ling Qi resumed walking along the path. “Alright, that’s fine. I wish you would have warned me,” she said grumpily.

“It’s not like I know what I’m doing,” Sixiang replied, amused.

Ling Qi did not find that comforting. Still, she kept walking, and as she walked around a particularly large pillow mountain, she saw again the sea of color. Last time, it had felt unfinished and unreal, but now, bright blue waves crashed upon rocks of garish orange and yellow, the ripples in the water perfectly realistic. The fluid shifted in color, bright blue to shimmering jade to darkest indigo with more colors in between. It was oddly beautiful.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” Ling Qi asked. It was a pretty sight, but it seemed like an awfully trivial thing.

“That mindset…” Sixiang sighed. “But no, what I want to show you is here though.”

In response to Sixiang’s words, Ling Qi just raised her eyebrows, giving the misty sky an expectant look.

“I’ve seen your memories. Experienced the clearer ones, and read the wisps of the rest,” Sixiang said thoughtfully. “It’s just… we’re friends, right? So it seems kind of unfair.”

Ling Qi continued walking, reaching the damp shore of the sea of color. She looked out thoughtfully over the churning waves. “I don’t really mind. I knew I was inviting you into my head.”

“Maybe so, but… I want to share anyway. I put a lot of work into making sure you could see and comprehend safely.” For once, the muse's voice held a note of trepidation. “... So, want to take a swim?”

Ling Qi thought back to the last time she had gone out with a friend on the water and felt Sixiang’s wry shrug of apology at the similarity. Still, Ling Qi rather doubted that this time would end like that had. The circumstances were a bit different. Ling Qi let out a sigh. “Sure thing, Sixiang.”

Diving into the waters, she dissolved into seafoam.

Threads 20

In Dream, Ling Qi was surrounded by kin. Through the currents of thought and great abyss of consciousness, she swam with countless millions of her kin, forming patterns of color and brightness of incomprehensible beauty and complexity. In and out of Dream did her kin swim, breaching briefly into the alien realm of the Real. Each time, they carried a hint of Dream's Spark and returned, enriched by new droplets of thought to add to Dream.

In Dream, Ling Qi was born and died a thousand times. She emerged wriggling from the hide of great leviathan [Grandmother/Emerald Dancer/Sister Brightsong/Dreaming Moon Local Avatar &*^*&%^(&)] to dance and play and sing with her siblings in the churning wake of the leviathan’s passage and to breach the surface and the Real with dreams and hope and creative sparks. When she had swum and danced and played and gathered the hopes, creativity, and desires of the Real onto herself until her belly bulged and her eyes sagged with exhaustion, she returned, a shed scale resuming its place and dying so that a new dream could take its place.

It was beautiful, a system without loss. Old ideas and abandoned thoughts fell into Dream to be renewed and returned to the Real, subtly different than before. The people of the Real fed the Sea of Dream, and the Sea of Dream buoyed the Real, urging them to new heights of creation.

Here, Ling Qi knew not fear or sadness. Though she touched thoughts of those kinds in every cycle, never did they cling to her. They were often the seeds of creation, but the feelings themselves could not take root in a being without permanence. Without context, such things were meaningless.

She experienced a thousand cycles and never learned a single thing. Each momentary existence, each creative spark, each muse passed and faded like a waking dream. With each passing cycle, Ling Qi felt her own mind diverging from the experience she was following until at last she felt like an observer, rather than a participant.

It repeated until the cycle that came one night in a broken tower under the bright moonlight. It was boring, as such things usually were. The dreams of spirits were bland and lacked humans’ fundamental spark, but Grandmother had obligations, and she had been shed to entertain. What a joy it was then when a human had swept in, sending ripples through Dream with her potential! Sixiang felt it right away; this was the one they had been created from. Grandmother sure liked playing around.

That had been when the real party had begun, in Sixiang’s opinion. The human had performed wonderfully, and Sixiang had gotten swept up in the human’s inebriation, laughing and singing and dancing all the night until at last, feeble flesh failed to keep up with shining spirit, and the human, Ling Qi, fell into a stupor and ceased to be much fun at all.

Ling Qi felt a bit indignant and embarrassed, watching her escapades from the outside, but such thoughts ceased as Sixiang found herself faced with their Grandmother once again. Before, from the perspective of proto-Sixiang, she had perceived the other spirit as a great leviathan from which muses were shed like scales, but with herself separated, she saw more.

The leviathan was herself only a single scale of something greater. Stretching out far beyond her perspective, Ling Qi beheld the Dreaming Moon whole and found herself insignificant in its face. If Cai Shenhua had been a mountain of impossible vastness, the reality of a great spirit dwarfed even that. One could comprehend reaching the top of a mountain, no matter how high, but this… It was if the world had flipped upside down, and the whole of the earth loomed overhead.

And, to her growing incomprehension, she found that this was only the face which looked upon the Empire. A spike of pain shot through her mind, and she saw in the blurry distance: a green skinned man of with beard bound in a stiff coil holding a strange golden scepter in his hand; another with a gleaming silver helm and a shining ruby who soared through the stars; and beyond even that, an androgynous figure with eyes of purest flame that danced in cruel merriment; and...

Ling Qi shuddered as Sixiang tugged at her sleeve, and her attention was dragged away. She felt a sense of sheepish shame as Sixiang chided her for her distraction and looking too closely at things that she was not meant to see. They floated bodiless in the churning Sea that formed Sixiang’s metaphor for Dream, and the memory they had been in dissolved.

Sixiang laughed at her befuddlement as she mentally flailed, suddenly free to move on her own in this space which was not strictly speaking space. Yet despite her lack of body, she found herself comforted by a feeling much like a hand holding her own. Ling Qi calmed herself, and for a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the beauty of dream, simplified as she knew it was. Yet, even now, the colors were fading away. What was happening?

She had spent longer than she had thought staring at the Dreaming Moon, she understood from Sixiang, understanding without the barrier of words. Sixiang would have to sleep soon to complete their transformation. But first, here, bolstered by argent energy filtered through Ling Qi’s own dantian, Sixiang wanted to know one more thing: which of her elements did Ling Qi feel was most important to what she wanted to be?

Was it wind? It had fallen behind in her arts, and she had rejected the idea of absolute freedom, but did the playful joy of the wind spirit still exemplify what she wanted to be? Would she have done better in recent trials if she found again the thread of cunning and creativity that had kept her alive in earlier days?

Was it darkness? So many of her arts cultivated it, and it went so well with her own covetous nature, of never wanting to let anything go if she could at all help it. Yet perhaps it was only her growing strength, but had it not encouraged a more brute force approach to problems?

Was it water? She did not often think of it, but many of her arts incorporated the element as a secondary. The virtues of persistence in pressing forward that arose from water had been a part of her for some time, even if it was not as visible and prominent as the other elements.

Or perhaps Wood? When she had begun cultivating, boundless growth and vitality were hardly among her virtues, but had it not served her well? Many trials remained in her future. She could not remain still, but that was not all that there was to the element, now was it?

Ling Qi thought hard, floating there in the dissolving dream. It was a difficult question. She knew that elements were simplifications, shorthands to understanding of the world. They could be divided or added together in an endless number of ways, and as such, deciding which one was the best was an exercise in futility. Yet there was still value to the question because despite their differing natures, she and Sixiang were both young and small, and that shorthand was their only way of understanding at this point in their development.

Ling Qi did not miss her past. She had no desire to go back to the way she was. There was nothing of value in the scrabbling, desperate, starved thing she had been, but what had arisen from that state held some meaning. Her experience had taught her the instinct to come at problems from odd angles and to avoid direct clashes. There was nothing wrong with using the strength she had now,, but forgetting that there were and could be other options was a mistake. Sometimes, she might have been better served by less direct approaches.

In this place, her thoughts were open to Sixiang, her muse, and so the spirit understood even as she reached her answer. Wind and its adaptability and cunning, though it had been born of a time she never wished to return to, was a tool that she did not want to let go.

She felt the whisper of Sixiang’s touch, a pat on her metaphysical shoulder. She understood it was time for them to cultivate now. Ling Qi was welcome to remain at the seaside, if she liked.

With a shuddering gasp, Ling Qi’s eyes snapped open, and her senses cleared. She lay on the shore of the sea of colors, her head pillowed on a soft cushion, and her body warm between a thick quilt. Slowly, she sat up, shaking her head as she got her thoughts in order. It was a strange thing to awake inside of a dream. It made her wonder just how many layers there were to consciousness and the human mind. Staring down at her hands, she closed them into fists and opened them again, wondering at the fading sense of foreignness that came from returning to her body or a facsimile thereof.

She could leave the dream now and return to her day. Sixiang was fine, just finishing their cultivation, but she did not want to leave. Not yet. She threw off her quilt, ignoring it as it dissolved into fluttering sparks, and returned to the shore. Colorful waters lapped at her ankles, but her gown remained perfectly dry. She recalled the flashes of experience from the numberless cycles where she had existed as the beings that comprised Sixiang in the past.

She had a rather narrow vision of the world, didn’t she? Ling Qi smiled wryly at the thought; she often focused so hard on what was in front of her that she missed what was happening around her. Going from one thing to the next without pausing to look back wasn’t wind though, was it? As she had learned from her tutor Bian Ya last year, the wind touched and connected all things.

It seemed awfully limiting to ignore all other forms of expression in favor of music. Smiling, Ling Qi crouched, plunged her hands into the multihued waters and submersed herself into the dreams of a millenia worth of creative souls.

***

“You really got into that didn’t you?” Sixiang’s voice buzzed in her ears, and for the second time, Ling Qi’s eyes snapped open. “I haven’t seen you sleep that long in all the time I’ve known you.”

Ling Qi looked around the meditation room, blinking away the now unfamiliar bleariness of a deep sleep. “How long was I asleep?”

“A good six hours, lazybones,” Sixiang teased. Ling Qi followed the sound of their voice but saw nothing at its point of origin.

Ling Qi winced. “Six hours?” she fretted. “What a waste. I’m still going to have to…” She trailed off, furrowing her brows. Sixiang’s voice had made actual sound. “Sixiang, did you…?”

“I’m just manipulating the wind,” the spirit tittered. “This is kinda fun! I wonder if...”

Ling Qi blinked as the argent mist shimmered and writhed, tugged as if by the hands of an invisible figure. She could feel Sixiang’s qi spreading out through her own channels, tugging and plucking at strands of wind. “Mm… visual stuff is still out of reach yet,” the spirit grumbled, sounding disappointed. “It’s just too complicated.”

“It looks like you’ll just have to be diligent then,” Ling Qi replied primly as she moved to stand, washing away the stiffness in her limbs with a minor pulse of qi.

“That sounds way too hard. Shouldn’t I just wait for another inspiration?” Sixiang whined.

“You, of all people, should know perfectly well how that works out,” Ling Qi replied dryly. Suddenly, a horrifying thought dawned. “Sixiang, you’re going to control yourself, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean!” the muse replied in a sing-song voice that gave Ling Qi the shivers. Just what had she gotten herself into?

Ignoring the muse’s laughter, Ling Qi left the mediation room. She had so much to catch up on if she wanted to start her cultivation on time.

Threads 21-Duels 1

Seven days and seven nights.

That was the length of time that Ling Qi spent atop White Cloud Mountain in the Outer Sect, cultivating with Zeqing. She rested in the muse’s home, played with her daughter, and drank sweet chilled wine. She immersed herself in darkness and music. She might have resolved to pay the other parts of her nature more mind, but right now, with the medicines she had taken, it was time to master the element at the core of her combat ability.

Cultivating on a mountaintop above the clouds, the lunar qi she drank in each night was clearer and purer than ever, and she felt another layer settle into place around her dantian, another phase complete. The seventh phase was not wholly complete; she would need to seek out an understanding with her lunar patrons to finish it, but its improvement was enough for now, especially since she could now gather up to a green stone’s worth of stellar energy for use in cultivation. In playing with Hanyi, she improved her body, and in practicing with Zeqing, she came to master her songs.

The eighth and final measure of her Forgotten Vale Melody consolidated the improvements she had learned in previous measures with the mist called darker than ever, the phantasms stronger, and the drain of her elegy all the more potent. She even learned how to bring her capstone technique, Traveler’s End, to a finale. If she wished it, she could end her Melody by triggering Traveler’s End, making all those lost in her mist suffer an echo of the traveler’s death in that far away vale, a massive spiritual attack that could even leave them paralyzed.

But it was Frozen Soul Serenade where Ling Qi gained the greatest insights. In the mountains, under the tutelage of the creator of the art and her teacher, Zeqing, she quickly mastered what remained of the art. The Hoarfrost Caress technique evolved into the Hoarfrost Refrain, a cold that lingered and echoed, spreading through the target’s blood and meridians like a frigid poison seeking the heart of the warmth. The chill would cling long after the technique itself ended until dispelled or the target was lulled into the final sleep. She also learned to infuse her Aria with an echo of true winter, stilling the air around herself with freezing chill, granting her attacks greater penetration and stealing the energy from attacks made against her.

The only thing that remained to master was the finale, the Call to Ending. It would be her first real finisher, a technique to bring about the absolute cold that lay at the end of all things and rip all the warmth from an enemy at once as she laid her hands upon them.

She still had a little trouble getting into the mindset for it.

On the eighth morning, Ling Qi opened her eyes and looked out over the flat mountain top. She was seated beneath the odd fruit tree that stood in Zeqing’s yard, and she was surrounded by flowers of ice.

“Big Sister is such a show off.” Her gaze was drawn to her right as Hanyi spoke. The spirit had changed since that day last year when she had met the little brat in the middle of a blizzard. The changes had begun recently and only accelerated with each passing day, but Hanyi was older in appearance now.

She had the same corpse-like pallor and wore the same threadbare child’s dress, but she resembled a young girl of ten or eleven now. Her dark hair was still worn in a child’s pig-tails, but it was longer now as well. Yet that stance, with her hands on her hips and her cheeks puffed out in frustration, was still purely Hanyi.

“Is it really showing off if I can still do more?” Ling Qi teased back with a smile, gesturing to the field of flowers. “I’m only meditating after all.”

The younger-looking girl glowered at her. “Big Sister is getting too cocky.”

“And you’ve been slacking,” Ling Qi replied pointedly. “Just like someone else.”

“Oh, don’t you start! How am I to cultivate in a place like this?” Sixiang grumbled. “What kind of atmosphere is this for a poet?”

“Our house is great and pretty!” Hanyi retorted. “You’re just a dummy!”

Ling Qi sighed. Sixiang and Hanyi got on like a house on fire, not the least because Hanyi really didn’t like being teased and Sixiang was Sixiang.

The wind was stirring as Sixiang formed a retort, but it suddenly fell still and silent as a cold shadow fell over them. Ling Qi looked up to find her teacher looking down at her with blank white eyes. “No squabbling in the yard, children,” the elder spirit said tonelessly. “You are finished, Ling Qi?”

Ling Qi smoothly stood as Hanyi scuffed her foot in the snow and bowed low to her teacher. “I have mastered both arts, teacher,” she replied. “Thank you very much for your instruction.”

She felt the brush of translucent fingers of ice against her cheek and a faint cold pressure on her meridians. “You have, haven’t you?” Zeqing said, a touch of fondness and something else hard to identify in her voice. “What a gifted student.”

Ling Qi felt herself flush with pride even as she glanced over to see Hanyi looking down, her bangs shadowing her eyes. “Teacher is too kind. I am not the only one who has been working hard though.”

“... Indeed not,” Zeqing said, an uneasy edge to her voice. Ling Qi knew without looking that Zeqing was not looking at Hanyi. She had noticed over the last week that the spirit had seemed to almost be avoiding her daughter. It worried her. “You as well, Hanyi,” she said nonetheless.

Even that brightened the younger spirit up, and for a moment, it looked as if Hanyi was going to rush forward to hug her mother, but Ling Qi saw her hesitate.

“Can I consider this month’s lessons complete, teacher?” Ling Qi asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Yes,” Zeqing replied after a moment, and with the appropriate time lapsed, Ling Qi raised her head to meet the spirit’s eyes. “Your lessons are, in fact, wholly complete for the moment.”

Ling Qi restrained a frown. “What do you mean, teacher?”

Zeqing met her gaze steadily, and her face was without expression. “I have taught you all that I can as you are. To go further… there would be tribulation. You asked that I warn you, did you not?”

Ling Qi’s eyes widened, and she nodded hastily. Zeqing did not need to spell it out. A tribulation from the icy spirit would be a deadly thing.

“Hmph. Big Sister can do it,” Hanyi huffed, not quite looking at her.

Ling Qi gave the younger spirit a sidelong look. “Would I need to make any preparations, teacher?”

“You are as prepared as you can be. It is only your choice that remains,” Zeqing answered simply. “But… not this day. I tire, and you should spend time with your kin.”

Ling Qi nodded, not willing to gainsay her teacher. “Thank you again,” she said instead.

“Might I ask if you found any insights in your time here, Ling Qi?” Zeqing asked.

Could simple words express the insights she had found in her arts? Mastering music as she was, it was becoming ever more clear how limited and prone to distortion language could be. However, meeting Zeqing’s featureless eyes, she knew that the ice spirit would understand the meaning beneath her words.

“Though a path might be hard and lonely, it has worth if I can present something of beauty to those I care for at the end of it.” She spoke the lesson of the Forgotten Vale Melody first, feeling the words resonate with her spirit. It was the beginning of an ethos for action, the acknowledgement of the purpose toward which power was to be bent.

“I see,” Zeqing acknowledged without emotion. “A worthy lesson, but not the only one.”

Ling Qi nodded before silently closing her eyes. She had to wonder what Zeqing would think of her other insight. “There are endings and Endings. Only the very last one is final. Just as winter ends in spring, small endings are new beginnings.” It sounded trite when said aloud, but the meaning rang clear to Ling Qi. To her, it was the absolute conviction that failures and losses could not and would not end her Path.

When she opened her eyes though, she beheld her tutor’s face looking even more like a blank and lifeless mask than usual. The spirit stared at her with empty white eyes, and in that moment, Ling Qi, who stood atop a mountain peak above the clouds ankle deep in snow without discomfort, felt a chill.

“Acceptable,” her mentor said. Zeqing did not even pretend that the words came from her lips, which remained as still and unmoving as a corpse’s. “You should be on your way then. These days have tired me.”

Before Ling Qi could respond to those terse words, Zeqing dissolved into a flurry of ice and snow, and a howling wind carried her presence away, leaving Ling Qi alone with her muse and Hanyi.

<... And you wonder why I’m on edge up here,> Sixiang whispered.

Ling Qi didn’t respond, turning her eyes to Hanyi, who stood there with her head down.

“I’m making Momma sick,” Hanyi said quietly. “Every time I get bigger or learn a new song, Momma gets sicker. You’re doing it too.”

Ling Qi grimaced, looking away from the ice child. “I know. But she doesn’t want to stop teaching us either.”

“I liked how things were before. I could always play, and Momma would always wait for me. It was like that forever,” Hanyi said, looking up at Ling Qi with sad eyes. “I liked learning Momma’s songs even more though,” she confessed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Ling Qi replied. “Hanyi…” She wanted to say that things would get better, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to the spirit. She didn’t know what was going to happen.

Hanyi scuffed her bare foot in the snow, looking back down. “You should go, Big Sister. Momma will get better soon if we go.”

She could feel Sixiang’s own discomfort pressing against her thoughts and magnifying her own. “Hanyi, just… don’t do anything hasty, okay? Big Sister will figure something out,” she said with confidence she didn’t feel. “Besides, Zhengui will be awake soon. He’d be sad if you weren’t around to tease him.”

Hanyi puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t care about what that big dumb sled feels, disappearing for so long just to take a nap,” she muttered rebelliously. She didn’t refute Ling Qi though.

Ling Qi hesitated then reached out and placed a hand on the little spirit’s head, ruffling her hair in the way she had seen Zeqing do once or twice. “I’ll see you soon, Hanyi.”

Somehow, flying away from the mountain peak, Ling Qi felt guilty for not doing more than stopping by to say hello to her own mother recently.

But she had a cultivation schedule to keep. The medicinal energies of the pills she had taken wouldn’t sing in her veins forever, but she could make time after the energies had dissolved. For now, she had to take advantage of this opportunity and cultivate.

***

In the days that followed her return to her little stone home on the Inner Sect mountain, Ling Qi focused her energies on learning two new arts procured from the Sect’s archive. Both of them were musical arts, although they were outside her usual fare.

The Harmony of the Dancing Wind was a bright song with a strong seasonal theme, expressing the complex feelings of connection in a small community. After her recent lessons, Ling Qi felt that her rendition of the song was colored somewhat. The image that formed in her mind’s eye was of people pulling together, surviving a harsh winter, and celebrating the warm winds that followed.

The other art, Storm Enduring Seedling, was rather different. The arrangement used alternating verses, one harsh and dissonant and the other light and hopeful, bridged by more somber measures to grant them continuity. It was a song of enduring adversity in the face of impossible odds and the courage to cling to life and live regardless of the trial.

They were both, Ling Qi felt, rather simple arts in comparison to the masterworks she had learned thus far in her two other musical arts. She found herself progressing rapidly with the new arts, reaching the fourth measure and fourth storm respectively, stymied from full mastery only by the current limitations of her cultivation stage.

With the new arts taken as far as she could go currently, she finally retired her old and outdated arts - Abyssal Exhalation, Argent Mirror, Argent Storm, Fleeting Zephyr, and Falling Starts - from her repertoire in order to attune the meridians they had used for her new arts. They had served their purpose in the New Year’s Tournament to reach the Inner Sect, but now, with the luxury of time and free access to the first floor of the Inner Sect archives, she could start tweaking her repertoire to better suit her needs.

However, as Ling Qi meditated and played in solitude in her home and at various cultivation sites, that was not the only progress she made. It came back to the pills she had purchased with her hard earned Sect Points. The Melodic Elixir was responsible for the ease with which she had progressed her musical arts, its humming energy opening her mind and soul in ways that she had not thought possible, but the other, the Unwavering Discipline pill, took the elemental energies she was cultivating and drew threads of them into her body. Notes of music flowed through her veins, vital wood qi fortified her flesh and muscles, and the wind carried away impurity like smoke. As a result, Ling Qi found her physical cultivation soaring, breaching the line between early and appraisal bronze by the end of her meditations.

All the while, she could feel her domain changing as well. Previously, it had been an ephemeral thing, but with her diligent cultivation, it was gradually gaining substance. The faint music that followed her when emotions ran high was growing less phantasmal, and she sometimes tracked glittering frost across the grass in moments of inattention. As her domain grew in strength, so too did Ling Qi find her flying sword to begin functioning differently. The Singing Mist Blade began to sing a more coherent song that echoed her own. Upon testing, she found that her flying sword’s song echoed, enhancing the damage and penetration of her own attacks on a target.

***

Ling Qi eyed the stand she had purchased and reached up to adjust her new bow so that it hung properly on the hook.

“It is unusual for you to engage in vanity,” Meizhen said from behind her, sounding faintly amused.

“I’m not so poor that I have to recycle anything that isn’t immediately useful,” Ling Qi said wryly. She still felt a faint wonder at that. She turned away from the stand to look at her friend. They were in Ling Qi’s bedroom, and Meizhen was seated on her bed, watching her work. Earlier, they, along with Xiulan, had been in town browsing the Inner Sect’s crafts market where disciples’ more mundane works were sold. “I still enjoy archery, but I’m not going to be pulling it out in a fight or a duel any time soon, so it can sit here in case I get invited onto some fancy hunt or something.”

“I suppose your usual methods would rather defeat the point of such games,” Meizhen noted serenely, glancing across the still near empty room. “Have you done any practice with more traditional weapons?”

Ling Qi sighed. “Not really,” she admitted sheepishly. “I had intended to work with Lady Cai on that, but…”

“She is rather busy,” Meizhen said with a frown. “The tasks and pace of cultivation she has set for herself are…”

“Pretty strenuous,” Ling Qi finished. She had started to become slightly concerned when her liege had actually been a full minute late to their first spar after her recent spate of cultivation. Cai Renxiang was usually frighteningly punctual. She knew the girl was spending a great deal of time arranging and holding meetings with a wide array of Inner disciples on top of keeping a cultivation schedule that had even raised Ling Qi’s eyebrows due to its strictness. “Of course, I don’t really have much room to talk.”

“Right. You spent a whole morning engaging in non-essential social activity, you layabout,” Sixiang teased, their voice emanating from inside Ling Qi’s wardrobe. “I still can’t believe you only have two gowns.”

Meizhen glanced toward the sound of the muse’s voice, and the shadow around her feet stirred, churning silently like a pool of ink. “I can hardly speak against such practices myself,” Meizhen agreed.

“At least we’re all making good progress,” Ling Qi said with somewhat forced cheer. Meizhen had reached the foundation level of green, even if her physical cultivation wasn’t quite there yet. From the little she had seen of her liege, Cai Renxiang would likely be finishing her own rise to the third stage by the end of the month. The gap between her and Meizhen and Cai Renxiang was narrowing, but it was still there.

“Quite,” Bai Meizhen said. “That aside, might I ask about the purchases you made at the end of our trip?”

“Ling Qi had an attack of the sentiments. It was good to see!” Sixiang replied for her, now seemingly speaking from just above her shoulder.

Ling Qi shot a sour look at the empty air. “I had been thinking of my family. I thought my mother might like some of the poetry collections the stall was selling. The storybook was for my little sister,” she explained. She had purchased the book more for the beautiful watercolor illustrations than the story itself. Biyu was too young to really start on reading yet. Maybe in another couple of years.

Meizhen looked chagrined. “Of course. My apologies. I sometimes forget your familial situation.”

“No troubles. We should get going though. The party is starting soon,” Ling Qi said, gesturing toward the door. “Wouldn’t do for me to be late to my own liege’s party.”

“No,” Meizhen agreed, standing up smoothly to follow her out. “Nor can I afford such either.”

Ling Qi shot her friend a concerned look as they made their way out of her house. Meizhen sounded oddly sour. “Is something troubling you? I thought you were enjoying Lady Cai’s get-togethers well enough.”

“They are an inoffensive enough way to pass the time,” Meizhen said stiffly. “There is an individual I would rather not engage with, however.”

Ling Qi raised an eyebrow. Someone who Meizhen couldn’t just blow off with her status? “Just who is this?”

“Tao Gong,” Meizhen grumbled. “Not of the traitor branch that followed the Sun, of course,” she added quickly, her expression briefly twisting into a sneer. “Shameful that they had the audacity to take the main branch's name in the aftermath.”

Ling Qi let the vitriol against the Western Territories pass without comment. “So the real Tao family is…?” she asked leadingly.

“One of my clan's two count level subordinates. They have significant ties in Celestial Peaks,” Meizhen answered. She glanced around, and Ling Qi felt a ripple of qi as the girl cast her senses about. “He imagines himself to be charming.”

“Ah, why don’t you just…?” Ling Qi gestured vaguely.

“Give him the old death stare?” Sixiang suggested.

Meizhen gave her, or rather, the air just above her head, a flat look. “I am attempting to learn from my aunt. Aunt Suzhen wishes to strengthen our bonds with other clans. Tao Gong reaches above his station, but it is likely that in a few years, things might be arranged so that he may marry into one of the lesser branches in exchange for other considerations. His overtures remain in the realm of politeness, and so my own behavior must remain in the same.”

Ling Qi grimaced. She had begun to field leading questions regarding her own status in such matters, and she was very much not looking forward to when she would have to start giving such offers serious consideration. Still, a question lingered in her thoughts. “You know, how are things likely to work out for you regarding engagement?” she asked quietly. Sixiang remained thankfully silent.

Given her knowledge of Meizhen’s preferences, she was unsurprised at the unhappy look which crossed Meizhen’s face. “It will be one of my cousins, I suppose, once the clan’s elders have determined which pairings will not result in bloodline sickness. The Imperial family is unlikely to offer an invitation, the Cai have no candidates, the Jin have placed their fortunes in the Sun’s camp, negotiations with the Xuan have fallen through, the Guo are too far for useful alliance, and the Zheng regard the entire concept as a farce. It is the only reasonable choice.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Ling Qi looked down at the path descending the mountain. “Well, that’s something to worry about in the future,” she said, determinedly forging on. “Have you picked out who you intend to challenge this month?”

Meizhen shot her a look of fond amusement, masking her previous thoughts. “So certain that I will challenge another immediately?”

“Yes. I’ve been doing my research. Foundation cultivators mostly start appearing around the 770s.”

“I am hardly a wholly foundation level cultivator yet, and mere cultivation level is not everything,” Meizhen pointed out.

Ling Qi gave her a silent look. The wind stirred, a lone breeze enhancing the moment. Internally, she thanked Sixiang.

“Disciple 772,” Meizhen sighed. “You?”

“I think I’ve narrowed it down to Disciple 790.”

Threads 22-Duels 2

“We begin now the challenge between Disciple 812, Ling Qi, and Disciple 790, Liang He.” The presiding elder was a short, rotund man with a wide, friendly face, a faint golden sheen to his skin, and drowsy, half-lidded eyes. He spoke in a cheerful drawl.

“In accordance with Sect rules, Disciple Liang He has chosen a challenge of direct combat. Let both competitors be at ease that this humble elder shall not allow either of you to come to permanent harm,” the elder continued, baring his teeth in a smile that stretched just a touch too wide. “This one hopes to see both of your youthful spirits released to their fullest extent.”

Ling Qi offered a respectful bow to the elder, just as her opponent did across the field from her. Liang He was a young man seemingly cut from the same mold as Kang Zihao. Well, that was unfair, Ling Qi supposed as she straightened back up and met her opponent’s steady gaze. She would compare him to Han Jian instead. He was tall and handsome with aquiline features and a serious mien. He had short cropped dark hair and grey eyes, though they were hardly visible at the moment.

Aside from his flowing silver robes, today, Liang He wore a featureless jade mask with dark smoked lenses that prevented her from seeing his eyes. A loose hood attached to the rest of his robes concealed the rest of his head. He hadn’t been wearing that yesterday when she had met him and made her challenge, nor had she heard anything about him wearing such a thing in the past. It must be some sort of talisman, but she couldn’t be sure of its function without a closer examination.

Despite the unwelcome surprise, Ling Qi could not help but feel a thrill of excitement. She was glad that she had made this choice. The urge to test how much she had grown in battle was strong. It would be nice to engage in a match where there was no previous enmity or resentment coloring things. She thought back to the previous day when she had met the boy to make her challenge.

When Ling Qi had straightened up, after having politely delivered her challenge to the young man as he exited the sealed training field she had tracked him to, she had found Liang He smiling earnestly as he bowed in return, clasping his hands in front of his chest. “It would be my honor to test my blade against you, Lady Ling! I am certain you have only grown stronger since your display of prowess in the New Year’s Tournament. I only hope that this humble swordsman does not disappoint.”

Ling Qi tried to ignore the way her cheeks heated at the praise…

<Stop embellishing, Sixiang,> Ling Qi thought sternly, keeping her expression even as she scolded the muse.

<Oh, c’mon, he’s cute, and he’s shaped just the way you like, too,> Sixiang complained.

<How do you even know that? He was wearing those billowy robes yesterday too,> Ling Qi thought in exasperation.

Sixiang scoffed silently. <Like that’ll stop me. The wind gets everywhere, you know?>

Through a great effort of will Ling Qi prevented her eyebrow from twitching. She almost felt her cheeks catch on fire as the elder shot her a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. Thankfully, her opponent was oblivious to her inner turmoil, merely sliding into a strong advancing stance as he drew the long straight sword from his storage ring in a flash of light. There was no sign of his spirit beast yet.

“The rules of this duel shall be simple,” the elder announced. “As requested by the challenged, there shall be no restriction on weapons, techniques, or spirit beasts. However, the duel shall be limited to this field and the space fifty meters above and below. This elder shall enforce the boundary fairly in a manner that shall prevent disruption of the duel. Are both duelists prepared?”

Ling Qi glanced around the wide grassy field and the stone boundary markers which marked its edge. The arena was one hundred fifty meters long and one hundred wide. Plenty of space to work with, even if she couldn’t just soar up out of range with her gown. Their starting positions were eighty meters apart, giving them plenty of room to fall back if they desired. It was as fair a field as any competitor could hope for.

This wasn’t necessarily great for her, but it was expected. With a flick of her wrist, Ling Qi drew her flute from storage. “I am ready, Honored Elder,” she said, echoing her opponent from across the field.

She put Sixiang's teasing out of mind, and recognizing that the time for it was over, the muse desisted. This would be her first duel with her completed arts and new arts alike. She needed to test her abilities and see how far she could go now. Many challenges lay in the coming days, not the least of which was the situation with her mentor, and she needed to keep rising rapidly up the ranks to meet the goals set for her by the Duchess. Though a failure in a rank challenge would not be the end for her, she had too much to lose to stop striving with all her determination toward victory.

“Begin!”

As the elder’s voice rang out and his hand chopped down, the field exploded into motion.

Ling Qi raised her flute to her lips, and the first notes began to ring out, releasing the first strands of thick and cloying mist. Her opponent, Liang He, took a single step and blurred. There was a sharp crack as the field split open like it had been carved through by a giant’s knife, sending an explosion of dirt and rock outward.

Feeling a thrill of alarm and excitement, Ling Qi flooded her limbs with vital qi, activating her Deepwood Vitality technique just in time for the gleaming emerald light to intercept the diagonal slash that would have taken her full across the chest. Even through her defensive qi, she felt the impact and used its momentum to push her leap backward, sparing herself a wound as her defensive technique shattered. A streak of rainbow light caught her eye, and she twisted to the side, mostly avoiding the hiltless blade that carved through the air, glancing off the dark silk of her gown in a shower of sparking qi.

Ling Qi could feel Liang He’s spirit of burning skies resolving above her, thrumming with a heated joy for battle, but he had failed to stop her. Even as she dodged, she had never stopped playing. Her mist spread hungrily, drinking in the warm afternoon sunlight and casting the field in shadow, swiftly engulfing her opponent in the time it took him to bring his sword back up into a guard position. Her flying sword shot out in a spiralling flight, singing a ghostly echo of her melody, and he batted it aside as its blade reached for his heart. Ling Qi could feel the wispy strands of qi that clung to his sword and his hands though, ready to be strummed when the time was right.

Then a shrieking cry rang in her ears, echoing and reverberating as if to shake apart her skull until Sixiang’s comforting qi flooded out to wash it away. A burning white shape carved through her neck, and she burst into shadows, reforming a half meter to her right with no more than a few blisters marking where Liang He’s spirit beast’s wings had brushed her neck.

She caught a brief glimpse of the falcon then. It was tiny for a spirit beast, only a half meter from wing tip to wing tip, but the plumes of its wings burned with blue fire even as its technique faded and it beat its wings to regain height. Liang He did not waste his partner’s opening. She felt his qi, sharp and brilliant, flare outward, and where he moved, her mist parted. It was a bizarre sensation to feel someone cut her mist, not with wind pressure or physical force but on a deeper, conceptual level. For an instant, in a line between where he had stood and her current position, the sun shone into the depths of the mist.

It wasn’t enough. The bare moment of breathing room she had gained from her dodge was enough to weave another technique into existence, and Ling Qi’s limbs faded, her form growing wispy and insubstantial, little more than another wraith in the mist. Yet her instincts screamed for her to move as that gleaming sword of his, its edge blazing white hot cut through qi and air alike. One strike, then a second she flowed around, saved by a hair as her gown once again deflected a cut, the sharpened blade rebounding from the silk with a hiss of heat.

Above their heads, his domain weapon struck hers with a scream of steel on steel, knocking it from its trajectory toward his back, but Ling Qi was hardly done. The air around them went cold and still as her melody changed. First, she played the soft Aria of Spring’s End, spreading frost across the earth and sending wispy flakes of snow drifting through the mist. Then came the howl of the blizzard as she launched into her improved technique, the Hoarfrost Refrain. Like an avalanche, the wave of dark qi released from her flute fell upon her foe.

Liang He’s blade moved, rising in a sharp flicking motion. Ling Qi blinked in confusion as the power of her melody slammed into the earth behind him, freezing a wide circle of the earth solid. She felt the edges of the technique tear at him, freezing and shattering the trailing edges of his robe and hood. But in that instant, all she could do was stare. Had he just parried her song!?

That instant was all the opportunity Liang He needed. With speed like lightning, his blade came back. Even in her surprise, Ling Qi still flung up an arm to block, and she felt the hot sting of pain as his sword carved a painful red across her forearm.

Then that bird of his screeched again, and with a flare of irritation, mostly directed at herself for her pause, her form flickered, vanishing into the mist as the falcon’s burning charge shot through where she had been just a moment ago. She felt the bird’s qi burning brighter and hotter as it wheeled as if to immediately charge again, but then Sixiang’s qi rippled out, a haze of song, merriment, and strong drink. It washed over both Liang He and his beast, and the falcon’s flight stuttered, and its wings dimmed. Liang He himself took a step back, his now tattered hood falling down around his shoulders as he flared his qi, and a storm of invisible blades tore apart Sixiang’s encroaching qi.

She had been a little cocky, too conservative with her qi, Ling Qi lamented even as he blurred toward her again and their swords screamed overhead. It was unfair to Liang He that she hadn’t treated the opening moments seriously enough. She hardened her flesh with the Hundred Ring Armament and wove through his strikes, only a few of the blindingly fast slashes hitting and only one carving through emerald qi to draw blood as the thrust scored across her lower ribs.

The still ringing notes of the Aria redoubled in strength as she resumed the melody, and this time, the sad notes held a terrible echo, the Echo of Absolute Winter. Grass died, earth froze, and from the cloying mist fell a thick and freezing snow. This time, even as he parried the bulk of Hoarfrost Refrain’s power, ice clung to his sword and hung heavy from his robe, and she felt the cold poison take root. With a ringing cry, her flying sword disentangled itself from his and shot down toward Liang He, forcing him to raise his sword to deflect the spiralling missile even as it renewed its echo on him.

With the tinge of true winter in the air, the falcon's charge was guttering before it even reached her, frost forming on burning wings as she slid out of the way with a single graceful step. Ling Qi could almost sense her opponent's concerned frown behind his mask. Freed from its battle with her own flying sword, Liang He’s flying sword shot toward her, but its bright rainbow blur dimmed as the sheer cold in the air sucked the energy from the blade's movement, leaving it to bounce harmlessly off her gown.

Liang He met her eyes then, and she felt from him a certain strange satisfaction. His stance once again shifted to aggressive, sword raised high. She felt Sixiang startle in alarm as the wind was ripped from their grasp, and the sky screamed. Though it was invisible to the eye, Ling Qi felt the screaming winds gathering into numberless blades, all around her, and the storm that gathered on the single blade in his hands, the fury of it sending his robes snapping and snow flying.

There was no time for thought as the storm of wind blades fell upon her. She had no doubt that a lower realm cultivator would have been reduced to little more than a bloody mist by the scores of invisible blades that she danced through with sable grace. It took all of her concentration to flow into the spaces between them, to force her limbs to go immaterial at the right moment, and yet at the end, she stood unharmed, just in time to flare her qi and weave a blazing emerald defense as Liang He’s storm-cloaked blade impacted her chest.

Deepwood Vitality shattered immediately, and the cutting wind slammed into her. Her gown held most of the power back, silken threads holding many times the strength of steel, yet they were still cut. Her flesh, imbued with the strength of a primeval tree, was cut, and she was blown backward in a howling storm like a leaf in a hurricane.

Yet though it burned painfully, the cut was not too deep. She could feel blood trickling sluggishly from the wound. As she landed lightly on her feet and once again met her opponent’s determined gaze, she knew one thing. It wasn’t enough.

Before Liang He could pull his sword back into a guard, Ling Qi played the finale of the Frozen Soul Serenade. She had never channeled the technique fully before, but now the Call to Ending rang out, not as any audible sound, but instead, a silence so deep that all other sound perished in its embrace.

Liang He staggered back as the power of the technique crashed into him, his half-formed guard insufficient to parry the call, even weakened by the distance between them. Grimly, he managed to hold onto his sword, grasping it tightly even as his fingers turned black from the cold. Despite that, the wordless, soundless melody sent him to his knees.

For just a second, Ling Qi worried that she had gone too far, that the potency of her Master’s art would kill her opponent, even though she hadn’t touched him.

“I declare the match finished.”

The moment was broken as a pudgy, golden hand chopped her lightly on the head. Her mist was blown away, the snow melted, and sound and warmth returned to the world. The jolly elder gave her a small nod as he stepped past her. He waved a hand, and a golden mist settled over Liang He’s kneeling form. “The winner is Disciple Ling Qi.”

Liang He forced himself to stand and offered a stiff bow. “A good match, Sect Sister,” he said in a strained voice. Ling Qi felt bad for the clear pain he was in. He still clutched his sword in his blackened fingers, and she had a feeling he couldn’t have let it go even if he wanted to.

“It was a good match, Sect Brother,” Ling Qi agreed, hastily bowing back, feeling incredibly awkward as she began to recall the audience their duel had.

“It pleases me to see such good humor in the wake of a duel,” the elder said with a wide smile. “But I will have to interrupt. My technique may keep anything important from falling off, but the young man does need to see a healer.”

The elder laid a hand on her opponent's shoulder and vanished, leaving Ling Qi alone on the field under the stares of the audience. She stared at the silent stands and offered another hasty bow to the stands before exiting with full dignity and speed.

<Or so she told herself,> Sixiang whispered, laughing in her head.

Ling Qi sighed. She supposed this was the first time she had displayed such a heavily damaging ability. Her previous victories had all been more drawn out and less… brutal. Still, her opponent didn’t seem to hold any ill will, so she doubted the audience would be able to successfully spin it in the negative.

More importantly, she was now sure that the Frozen Soul Serenade was wholly mastered. Would that be enough to face her mentor?

Ling Qi winced as she felt a twinge from the cut on her chest. She could think about that later.

She had managed to use the Call to Ending. She could not put off visiting Master Zeqing any longer.

Threads 23-Winter's Muse

Zeqing’s home had never seemed so dark, Ling Qi thought nervously.

For once, no one had come to greet her when she arrived on the mountaintop. There was only the wind and the dancing snowflakes. Her mentor’s home huddled darkly on its foundations like an image from an old tale. Its shutters were closed, and shadow lay deeply under its eaves despite the bright noonday sun shining overhead.

And it was so very cold. Ling Qi shivered, rubbing her arms as she approached, footsteps light atop the snowy field.

“Are you sure about this?” Sixiang asked, their voice drifting on the wind. “I know she’s your teacher and all, but you’re... No one is welcome here right now. Can’t you feel it?”

“I can feel it,” Ling Qi replied, approaching the door. “But I know my lessons aren’t complete either.”

<Ling Qi… This isn’t like that dream or messing around in the forest,> Sixiang said, the wind falling silent as their voice returned to her thoughts. <I know I joke a lot, but you could die here. Did you even tell anyone what you were doing?>

Ling Qi opened her mouth, but she ended up staying silent rather than replying. She had told Cai Renxiang that she would be secluding herself in cultivation for a day or two, but there had been no reason to worry or frighten everyone else. She had already chosen to approach Zeqing again, even knowing the spirit was dangerous right now.

“The way things are right now is partially my fault,” she finally said. “It’s only right that I help resolve it. I don’t want to…”

Sixiang didn’t answer with words, but memories of her childhood drifted up, of stolen blankets and too slow allies.

“No, that’s not right.” Ling Qi shook her head. “I’m still that person. I’m still selfish and afraid.” The Bloody Moon dream had proven that. The old her remained, just under the skin. “But Zeqing is my teacher. I couldn’t have gotten to where I am without her. I won’t leave her or her daughter like this,” she said, determination filling her voice. “... There has to be some things more valuable than safety.”

She felt Sixiang’s mental sigh, followed by the assurance of support, settling like a warm blanket around her shoulders. With that, Ling Qi didn’t hesitate any more, and she took the last steps toward the darkened doorway and rapped her knuckles on the frame.

For a moment, there was no reply, but then, ever so slowly, the door opened. The drawn out creak as it drifted ajar raised the hairs on her neck. There was no more invitation than that, but Ling Qi knew that if Zeqing did not want her here, she could not have forced the door even with all her strength. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, squinting into the unnatural darkness that shrouded even her vision. It was unsettling. How long had it been since she had last stood in the dark like this?

The door snapped shut behind her, cutting off the last rectangle of light, but Ling Qi remained composed. “Master Zeqing, your student has come to greet you,” she said, speaking formally. Unable to see, she simply made the appropriate bow without turning. A cold breeze was her only answer, but as she straightened up, the darkness lightened a fraction, and she saw ahead of her a sitting room where her mentor waited before a hearth that guttered with heatless green flame.

Zeqing floated before the hearth, the empty lower half of her gown folded as if she were seated upon an invisible seat. The spirit’s head was lowered, her silver hair hiding her face. Ling Qi approached cautiously until she stood within the circle of firelight, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that she stood in an empty void from which there was no escape or exit. “Master…”

“I am surprised to see you so soon. Are you really so eager?” Zeqing asked, her voice cold and distant. She did not look up.

“I do not want to leave my mentor in pain,” Ling Qi replied honestly. “Where is Hanyi?”

Zeqing let out a small huff of amusement at her hesitant words. “Safe. I left her with her father while I centered myself.” Zeqing paused then, finally raising her head to look at Ling Qi. She almost flinched at the sight of the hairline fracture running from Zeqing’s chin all the way up to her temple. It was as if Zeqing’s face was a porcelain mask, and Ling Qi could not quite find the courage to look into the darkness that lay behind it. “You have never met my husband, have you?”

“No,” Ling Qi answered reluctantly, a sinking feeling telling her that she was not going to like this.

Zeqing gestured with an empty sleeve, and to their right, a patch of darkness grew light. Through it, Ling Qi saw into a room, its shadowed walls stacked with toys shaped from ice and snow and rock. In the center, she saw Hanyi seated at a table, face screwed up in concentration as she messily copied the characters from a second sheet. As she finished the last brushstroke, she looked up, an excited gleam in her eyes and said something Ling Qi could not hear to the larger figure beside her.

Ling Qi could not help but follow the young spirit’s gaze. Although her eyes saw a handsome man with ice pale skin and a bookish air smiling softly at his daughter, her other senses saw beneath the facade. It was a hideous mannequin of ice, blood, and bone. A single terrified eye stared out at her from an iced over socket, pleading for escape and release.

Ling Qi shuddered, her stomach churning as she felt the reality of the thing that Zeqing called her husband. The bones of it were made wholly of the spirit’s power, but there were enough pieces, crudely stitched into its frame, that she could feel the shape of the man it had once been. The worst of it was that there was still a spark of life and awareness in those broken fragments of a soul.

“Even her time with him has turned to lessons,” Zeqing sighed, resting her chin in a hand of clear ice. She glanced briefly at Ling Qi. “Hanyi sees only her father as he should have been, but I felt that you could handle the truth.”

“... Why?” Ling Qi asked, swallowing the bile that wanted to rise in her throat, dragging her eyes away from the horrible thing.

“Would any answer satisfy you?” Zeqing asked absently. “Would spinning a tale of his perfidy give you satisfaction?”

Ling Qi grimaced. “Maybe,” she admitted. “People can be terrible.”

Zeqing let out a small laugh. “Such honesty,” she mused. “Very well. Once, a small clan ruled this patch of land, though I and my predecessors had been here far longer. My husband was one of three brothers in contention for the seat of the clan’s heir. My husband was a scholar and a wanderer at heart, and so he discovered me.”

Ling Qi studiously avoided looking at the subject of their conversation but nodded. She already had a feeling where this story was going.

Zeqing turned her empty white eyes upon Ling Qi with a knowing look. “Indeed. Be aware that I had long been alone. Imperial claims in this region are recent, and I - we - were subjects of reverence and placation. The Imperial method of interacting with spirits was quite new to me at the time,” she said with a sigh. “... And he did have such a skilled tongue.”

Zeqing shook her head, and after a beat of silence, she continued. “He sought to bind me of course. Power such as mine would have been a boon to his claim to the seat. He returned to this mountain again and again to woo me, and in the end, he even convinced me to bear his child as proof of our love so that I would never be lonely again.”

Ling Qi’s eyes shifted to Hanyi, and she thought of what she knew of history. “Hanyi isn’t that old, is she?”

“I kept her within me for the longest time. I was bitter, but I was not willing to destroy a part of myself. We get ahead of ourselves, however. For the better part of a decade did he continue to visit me, and in doing so, he changed me," Zeqing explained wistfully, gazing at the broken, spiritually bleeding thing in the other room. "I am a spirit of darkness, desire, and covetousness. I am the cold that saps the life from a man's bones yet allows him to drift into his final sleep feeling naught but pleasant warmth. Yet for the first time, I came to feel more than a base desire and hunger for warmth, and from the qi I took from him were born the emotions that come so easily to your kind. I fell in love, and I agreed to join my essence to his and create a new life. It was a transgressive thing, not done in all of the memories of my past selves. I am a creature of endings, not beginnings after all," her mentor finished with a bitter laugh.

“What happened in the end?” Ling Qi asked. She already knew the answer, at least in the broad strokes.

“It was a ploy, and his ability to avoid my sight was not as good as he believed,” Zeqing answered clinically. “A life that bound us together would have made for an unbreakable binding with his techniques, even for me. He would then have been free to take a human wife as well, as is your people’s custom.” She gave a faint shrug. “Instead, when he returned the next time, I devoured him, body and soul, and refused to allow him his End.”

Ling Qi looked at the thing’s single staring eye pleading for the mercy of release into death and shuddered. Could she say that he had deserved that?

She thought of the past and the things she had seen on the streets and in her mother’s home. Leering faces and her mother’s limping steps and bruised limbs rose all too clear in her memory. She recalled well those less cunning and lucky than her, who had fallen into servitude, legal and otherwise, in the slums.

If she met those people now, could she say that she would be inclined to treat them any better? For a moment, she brought herself to imagine that night long ago, the last one she had spent in her mother’s home. She remembered the stink of alcohol on rich robes and the feeling of a fat, sweaty hand on her shoulder before Mother had distracted him and shooed her off to her room. She imagined that hated face paling in terror as ice crept up his robes and his choked scream as winter stole the breath from his lungs.

It was incredibly satisfying, made all the more so by the simple fact that if she truly wanted to, she had no doubt that she could make it reality. She had left old grudges behind these days, too busy to waste time contemplating them, but in her heart, some still simmered. She was a practical person, but she was not forgiving.

Yet the thought of taking even that man and binding his frozen soul to her like a spirit was repugnant. To keep a source of hate and pain chained to herself... She couldn’t imagine the satisfaction lasting long at all. It was pointless and wasteful. Though she knew it was not the same, she couldn’t see stretching out the punishment as a good thing.

Sixiang laughed weakly in her thoughts. <I guess I see why my aunt wanted to show you that dream. Don’t forget now.>

Ling Qi paused. Could she square that - the satisfaction at personal retribution and the horror at the slaughter of that civil war? Was it a contradiction in terms? She didn’t think so, but she doubted that those two long dead Weilu leaders thought any different. She opened her eyes to find her mentor still staring at her, despite Ling Qi’s minutes-long silence. The fire was gone. The image of Hanyi and her father was gone. There was only Ling Qi and Zeqing facing one another in the endless dark.

“You should End him, Master Zeqing,” she said quietly, meeting her mentor’s empty white gaze. “Things shouldn’t persist past their Endings.”

“Of course you would have me give up what is mine,” Zeqing said softly, tendrils of hungry darkness writhing out through the crack in her visage. “That is what you are here for, is it not, my dear student?”

“... I am,” Ling Qi admitted. “Master Zeqing, you taught me to keep what I love close, but if I break those things in doing so, is there really any meaning?”

“There is,” the spirit replied. “Even broken shards can be held close to warm you in the night. Once a thing has Ended, once it has left you, it is gone.”

“I don’t agree,” Ling Qi said with determination. “I abandoned my mother long ago, but we’re together again. She’s still my mother, even if things are different now. Our relationship didn’t End.”

“Can you truly say that?” Zeqing asked, a cold wind beginning to blow through the darkness. “When I have seen and felt the way that you regard her? It hurts my heart to imagine my Hanyi seeing me in such a pitiable light.”

Ling Qi winced, shivering as the icy breeze cut through her gown and flesh alike, chilling her to the core. It was true that she didn’t tell her mother many things. She held her separate from most of her life for good reason. She knew well how far below consideration mortals were for most cultivators. “And yet I love my mother still, even if she cannot do anything for me. That…” She hesitated, unsure of how to articulate her thoughts.

Zeqing slowly rose, her empty gown shifting as she seemed to stand. The frozen spirit seemed so terribly tall in the dark. “A Mother protects her children. She keeps them safe. She teaches and nurtures. If a child leaves her, how is she to do these things?”

Ling Qi looked up at the looming figure of her mentor, her pale face seeming to almost glow in the absolute darkness. “Childhood has to end, sometimes sooner than it should,” she answered quietly. “I have finished my lessons, and Hanyi is growing up. Even if you stop that end from coming... would it satisfy you?”

For the first time since they had begun speaking, Zeqing’s mask-like visage twisted into an expression. She flinched, and the wind stopped dead as her features twisted in pain like a woman who had been stabbed. Ling Qi startled as a sharp report like a tree shattering from the winter’s cold echoed through the void. A new crack now spiderwebbed across her mentor’s face, stark and jagged. It cut through her nose and right eye, disappearing under her hairline.

“Master Zeqing?” Ling Qi asked, her resolve shaking as she felt the deathly cold beginning to creep up through the soles of her shoes, stabbing into her feet like a forest of pins and needles.

“Go to my daughter, Ling Qi,” her mentor ordered dully. “Your final lesson is upon you. As your teacher… All I may do is ensure that your success is possible.” The spirit turned away, dress billowing in the howling wind that was beginning to build. “Take her, and leave the mountain.”

To her side, pale ghost lights arose, marking out a hall that no doubt lead to Hanyi’s room, but Ling Qi hesitated, moving to follow Zeqing as she drifted into darkness, only to be driven back by shrieking winds and blowing ice that left shallow cuts across her face and hands.

<I think you should listen to her. You knew what you were kicking off, didn’t you?> Sixiang asked, their normally joyful voice somber.

“... I did,” Ling Qi agreed, straightening her shoulders as she turned on her heel to march down the hall. The time for hesitation was past.

Threads 24 Winter's Muse 2

Ling Qi swiftly reached the end of the hall, flitting from shadow to shadow as she raced for the door that lay at its end. The handle turned easily under her hand, and the door flew open, leaving her face to face with a confused looking Hanyi.

“Ling Qi? What’s wrong?” the little spirit asked, her face screwed up in concern. “Papa said that Mama needed to talk to him. Mama never talks to Papa!” she babbled, her words coming out in a rush. “And - and - the house is shaking, and Mama is angry and hurting. It’s like the whole past month but way worse and…”

Ling Qi crouched and rested her hands on Hanyi’s shoulders. She tried her best to keep her voice calm, but she couldn’t help the note of urgency that crept into her voice. “Hanyi, your mom is just... having some problems right now. She’s not angry at you or me. I promise,” Ling Qi tried to reassure her.

“But, why then…?” Hanyi asked, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Why has she been so…?”

Ling Qi winced as the room shook violently and an icy wind ripped through the doorway, sending their hair and gowns fluttering. “She’s just very stressed. Your Mama needs a break. That’s why she asked me to take you for awhile,” Ling Qi replied, knowing she needed to hurry. “Zhengui will be waking up soon, I’m sure. Won’t it be fun to visit him?”

Hanyi eyed her suspiciously and sniffed, still keeping her tears back. “I wanna, but Mama…”

GO, HANYI.

Ling Qi flinched as the entire room shuddered under the force of Zeqing’s voice reverberating through the house and the sharp crack that followed the pronouncement. Hanyi jumped as well, her eyes wide with alarm.

“You’re sure she’s not mad?” Hanyi asked in a trembling voice.

“Not at us,” Ling Qi assured her, holding out a hand as she stood up. “Come on. Let’s go, Hanyi.”

“Okay,” the young spirit mumbled, taking her hand. “Are Mama and Papa fighting? Did I mess up?”

That was one way to put it, Ling Qi thought, given the conflict in Zeqing’s nature that she had seen. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hanyi,” she said as they reached the end of the hall, the wind blowing against them growing stronger by the moment. “Do you know how to get to the door?” she asked as they reached the end of the hall, worry creeping into her thoughts as Sixiang offered the mental equivalent of an apologetic shrug. There was nothing for their wind to trace the layout of.

Hanyi peered out into the empty darkness. “Kinda. I can’t control the house like Mama, but… the door is really far away right now.” She still sounded like she was holding back tears.

Ling Qi restrained a grimace. She had to get moving as quickly as she could, but she also couldn’t afford to panic Hanyi.

“It looks like I’ll need your help then,” Ling Qi said with false cheer, glancing at the empty dark around them. She looked down at Hanyi, unsure how best to handle this. After a moment’s hesitation, she crouched, bringing herself down to the young spirit’s level. “Hey, since I’ll get lost, why don’t you let Big Sister give you a ride? That way we won’t lose each other by accident.”

She didn’t know what to expect, but driving winds and whited out vistas seemed likely. A connection as tenuous as held hands was unreliable.

Hanyi gave her a confused and suspicious look. “You’re acting really weird, Big Sister. So is everyone else. What’s going on?”

Ling Qi shivered as she felt, deep in her bones, the faint beat of a melody building in the darkness around them. For a moment, her thoughts spun in circles as she tried to come up with another excuse, but would that really help?

“Hanyi…” she began, trying to find the words. “Your Mama needs to be alone for a while. You’ve seen how she’s been acting, right?”

Hanyi frowned, scuffing her bare foot against the ground. “Yeah, but being lonely hurts. How will hurting Mama more help?”

“Because she’s afraid that she’ll hurt us by accident,” Ling Qi replied, finally dispensing with excuses. “Hanyi, being lonely hurts, but don’t you think it would hurt her more if one of us got hurt?”

Hanyi’s lips trembled. “I don’t understand. Why would Mama be afraid of that? She loves me. She loves you. She wouldn’t hurt us.”

“Sometimes, you can hurt people you love without meaning to,” Ling Qi said quietly. “Hanyi, please, your mama wants me to take care of you while she’s away. I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

For a moment, she thought Hanyi was going to argue further, but the young girl hung her head, silver bangs shadowing her eyes. “‘Kay,” she sniffled. “I know Mama wants me to go. I felt it, but…”

“I understand,” Ling Qi said, patting Hanyi’s shoulder. “We need to get going now though.”

Hanyi gave a shallow nod, and finally, she did as she asked. Soon, Hanyi was perched on her back, legs tucked under her arms and arms around Ling Qi’s neck. Taking a deep breath, Ling Qi stood, and the moment she did, she nearly staggered. Hanyi’s weight, which had been like a feather a moment ago, seemed to redouble again and again until it felt as if Ling Qi had a boulder tied to her back.

<It’s gonna get worse,> Sixiang warned. <The weight… It’s connected to this place.>

“Big Sister?” Hanyi asked.

“I’m fine, Hanyi,” Ling Qi replied. “Which way do we go?”

With another sniffle of held back tears, Hanyi began to direct her. With Hanyi on her back, she couldn’t flicker from place to place, not that she thought such techniques would avail her in the not-space that Zeqing’s temple had become. Even so, she moved as quickly as her legs and the weight she bore would allow. Only Hanyi’s direction allowed her to avoid crashing headlong into barriers she could neither see nor sense. No matter how hard she concentrated, there was no direction in this place, save for up and down, and even that twisted oddly at times, leaving Ling Qi to quickly find her balance as her floor became a wall or a ceiling from time to time.

Then the wind began to blow.

She felt Sixiang shiver in her mind, tendrils of awareness withdrawing back into her meridians with a snap. She felt the same cold in her extremities as the blackness began to grow gray and then white, and she felt the first pelting daggers of ice. With a single breath, she activated the Hundred Ring Armament, cloaking herself and Hanyi alike in its viridian glow. It proved prescient as the whiteness howled and a gust of wind struck her like a blow from a giant.

Though her technique cushioned the blow, she still spun dizzily as the force of the wind flung her through the air. Hanyi cried out something in her ear, clinging tightly to her neck, and Ling Qi kept her grip on the spirit even as she managed to land on her feet in the knee-deep snow. That itself was a surprise. Ling Qi had grown used to being able to walk lightly across snow and ice, but now, she sunk into the cold, wet morass like a stone. The cloak of her gown flared, and she began to rise, only for the wind to howl, slamming her back to the “ground” with a painful crack. She bent her knees to absorb the impact, but it sent a tingle of pain through her joints.

“Everything alright, Hanyi?” she asked through gritted teeth as she straightened up.

“I’m okay,” Hanyi said, her voice trembling. “But, Big Sister, the door is moving.”

Ling Qi restrained the urge to curse. “It’ll be fine, Hanyi. Just keep me going in the right direction.”

The going proved difficult. The blizzard blew endlessly in her face until her cloak hung heavy, encrusted with ice, and the rest of her was not much better. The cold stung her eyes and froze her fingers, and slashing fragments of frozen rain pattered against her armored form like a rain of daggers. It was only due to the constant renewal of her Armament and various defense techniques that she was not cut to ribbons.

Through it all, the quiet beat that she heard remained subdued, a faint vibration felt in the depths of her soul. She kept herself alert, having no doubt that there would be worse trials than this.

<You’re probably not wrong,> Sixiang muttered. <Something bigger is…!>

***

Ling Qi sniffled as she dropped to the ground, casting one last glance up at the dark window she had climbed out of. She rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes, wiping away her tears. Mama had been right to yell at her. It was her fault that Mama had gotten hurt last night. She was a bad girl. Lots of the other ladies said so when they thought nobody was listening. They were right.

... And she didn’t want to be like Mama or the other ladies. Most of the men that came to them were gross and mean. Even when they weren’t, they were never nice. Even ladies from other places didn’t like them or her. Grannies who would give out sweets to other little girls would turn their noses up at her and say mean things about Mama when her back was turned.

She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to hurt Mama, and she didn’t want to get hurt by the mean men who paid for time with Mama. Ling Qi hunched her shoulders, pulling the bag she had stuffed with her clothes and some food higher. Ling Qi took her first step away from home where she could be free at last.

She shivered then as a cold gust blew, and the world seemed to swim. Ling Qi stopped in confusion and fell to her knees, gasping for breath. It felt like the sky had fallen on her shoulders. Grief welled in her mind, overwriting her thoughts. She felt the mounting panic of a woman who woke to find her daughter gone and the increasing desperation as her search turned up nothing and as pleas for aid in that search fell on indifferent ears. She felt the collapse that followed as hours turned into days and hope guttered out and died.

Ling Qi sobbed, curling up on the ground as the storm of emotions assailed her. Could anything be worth that? She was going to hurt her Mama so much, and she herself was going to hurt so much too. Memories of cold, empty bellies and broken bones assailed her. Memories of fear and brushes with death crushed her. Why was she doing this? Why was she leaving? Mama wasn’t perfect, but she loved Ling Qi. Even if she got mad, she would get hurt if it kept Ling Qi safe.

“No,” Ling Qi muttered into the dirty street, pushing herself back up to her knees. The world flickered dizzyingly, and she felt her limbs stretch and grow. Was she a child or an Immortal? In that moment, she couldn’t say. “I can’t go back.”

Why not? Her own voice seemed to echo back.

Ling Qi struggled for a moment to answer, clenching her hands in the dirt/snow. “Because I don’t want that,” she hissed. “And Mom didn’t want that. Even if it hurt, even if I hated it, didn’t it come to a good end?”

The world shuddered violently and Ling Qi’s vision went black.

***

“Exhausting yourself again, I see. Will you never consider your own health?”

Ling Qi’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of Meizhen’s voice, and she sat up in her chair, sending the blanket that had been laid over her into her lap.A fire burned merrily in the hearth in front of her, and she sighed in comfort at the slow creeping warmth that she could feel sapping the stress from her tired limbs. Still, as she blinked, looking around at the snug wood paneled room, she couldn’t help but think that something was off.

“Where are we?” Ling Qi asked, looking to her friend, who kneeled gracefully before the fire, warming her hands.

Meizhen arched an eyebrow at her. “Did you strike your head? We are at home. You spent so long out hunting that Xiulan had to bring you back.”

Ling Qi furrowed her brow, rubbing her temples to ease the persistent ache there. It was like someone was shouting inside of her skull. Right, she remembered now. She and her friends had left. The sect, the Empire, and all of its baggage was behind them. There was no pursuit. None of them were important enough for that. The house rocked under her feet, and she knew it to be Zhengui’s stride, taking them on a slow route through the far flung boreal valleys deep in the Wall.

“Where is everyone?” Ling Qi asked absently, rubbing her head still. Maybe she had hit her head on something. This ache wouldn’t go away.

“Your hangers-on are tinkering with the formation arrays outside, and your mother and sister are resting,” Meizhen answered smoothly. “Xiulan is warming herself in the bath after retrieving you, and Han Jian is in the mapping chamber.”

“Sorry,” Ling Qi apologized sheepishly. “What about Renxiang though?”

“In the office. You know how she is,” Meizhen replied, turning back to the fire.

“Right,” Ling Qi said, grimacing. She didn’t feel a bruise, but something was bothering her. Had they really just left? Sure, Renxiang’s little sister had ended up becoming heir, and Jian and Xiulan had broken from their families for each other, but… Would they really get to leave so easily? And why had they all come to her? She closed her eyes as the headache redoubled.

“Are you alright, Qi?” Meizhen asked, concern clear in her voice. Ling Qi heard the rustling of cloth and a cool hand pressing against her forehead. “I did not detect any odd fluctuations in your qi, but…”

Ling Qi opened her eyes, looking up to see Meizhen leaning in, her lips pursed. “Meizhen... Why are you here? Don’t you have... responsibilities?” Her words came out with difficulty, and her thoughts felt fuzzy and muddled.

Meizhen gave Ling Qi a patient look as she straightened up, and the other girl let her hand drift down to rest atop Ling Qi’s.” Qi, my clan can do without me. That aside, I love you. Of course I would follow.”

Ling Qi felt her vision blur. Meizhen was her first and best friend, the hand that had given her the first and most important boost into the world of Immortals. What sort of terrible world would it be where Ling Qi couldn’t return her feelings? Yet…. it felt wrong. Meizhen, who idolized her aunt and who was working hard to be useful to her clan, would just drop everything for her? Meizhen, who had herself firmly rejected the idea of being closer than friends in the Outer Sect?

And what about the others? Would Cai Renxiang really so easily abandon the things she talked about? Would Suyin abandon her place in the Sect, her mentor, her projects, or Su Ling her revenge? Xiulan and Han Jian were both dutiful children to their clans. Why would they...?

No, this was wrong. This fantastical scenario... This...

“I need to go,” Ling Qi breathed out. She stood up, and Meizhen stepped back, her eyebrows raised in alarm.

“Qi? What is the meaning of this? You just returned,” Meizhen said. The shorter girl looked up at her with confusion and alarm on her stoic features. “Is something wrong? Please tell me.”

At the edges of her vision, the room began to warp. “This isn’t right,” she said, pushing Meizhen’s hands away. “This… This whole thing isn’t right.”

Her friend looked hurt as if Ling Qi had struck her, and Ling Qi’s resolve wavered. “Why? We are together. Everyone is together, and there is no reason for us to ever part. What could be wrong with that?”

“Life doesn’t work like that,” Ling Qi hissed, the pain in her head redoubling.

When next she looked up, Ling Qi froze as she found herself staring into Meizhen’s eyes. Her empty, white eyes.

Ling Qi reeled as the world shattered.

Threads 25 Winters Muse 3

“... ter! Big Sister!”

<C’mon, Qi, don’t do this to me. Wake up! Wake up! This isn’t your dreams,> Sixiang begged her.

Ling Qi shook her head violently, and the blizzard resolved itself again before her eyes. She felt so tired and cold. “... Hanyi? Sixiang…?”

“I thought I saw Mama, and she looked scary, and then you stopped moving,” Hanyi babbled, clutching her neck tightly.

<I dunno about Zeqing, but you just froze up. It was like there was a cage of ice keeping me out of your thoughts,> Sixiang muttered fearfully. <Please get moving.>

Ling Qi shivered, recalling the visions she had apparently experienced. Even as she did, she bounded forward, forcing herself through the wind and snow despite the fatigue dragging at her limbs. She had forgotten exactly what Zeqing was. Zeqing was not just a creature of brute force and snow storms but also a winter siren who could bring those who fell under her spell to death of their own will. She just had to hope that whatever Zeqing was doing to restrain herself did not slip again.

And yet, as she ran through the snow, banking and turning on the command of her charge, her thoughts kept returning to those visions and why she had rejected them. Her heart ached at the memory of it, but she could not help but feel that there was a truth she had realized in the visions.

She could not let herself forget that the important people in her life had thoughts and feelings as important as hers. Just because something would make her happy did not mean it would make them happy. It seemed like such an obvious thing to realize, but Ling Qi wondered just how many people there were that did not truly internalize that into their Way.

Ling Qi had little time to muse further on that insight, not when the storm was picking up and the soft mournful melody that underlaid the winds was growing stronger. The music struck deep in her soul, ringing like the miserable sobs of a loved one, and it took every scrap of will that Ling Qi had to keep running. She knew it was only Sixiang’s efforts that allowed her that much. She could feel the insubstantial spirit’s strain, their qi diffused through her every meridian as it pushed back against the cloying despair that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Why is Momma crying?” Hanyi whispered, her voice trembling. “I-if she really wants us to leave, why is she crying?”

Despite her resistance to the song woven into the storm, Ling Qi felt the tears that welled up in the corners of her eyes, only to freeze solid, still clinging to her cheeks. Despite that, she never allowed her legs to stop moving. “It hurts when someone you love leaves, but sometimes, things have to hurt before they can get better. Hanyi, please, tell me where I need to go next,” she begged, struggling to keep her voice from wavering.

“... Through that drift,” Hanyi muttered, pointing out a high rampart of snow. “If Momma really wanted me to stay, Big Sister would have never even made it this far, huh?”

“You get it, Hanyi,” Ling Qi replied shakily, veering toward the sheer wall of densely packed snow. Her instincts told her to veer away or jump over, but Hanyi had said “through.” Ling Qi just had to trust that her mentor’s daughter knew what she was saying. So, gritting her teeth, Ling Qi charged headlong into the snow.

Ling Qi felt like she had run into a wall. Cold, wet weight crushed against her face and chest, even as she struggled forward, pushing through. Then, in the next instant, it was gone, and Ling Qi rocked on her feet, nearly stumbling as she found herself once again standing in an empty void.

“Left!” Hanyi cried out, her voice echoing in the dark. Ling Qi didn’t even think. She sprang to the left as if her life depended on it. Wind screamed past her ears as she shot down what seemed to be an open corridor. Though her eyes saw only a uniform darkness, Ling Qi could feel the churning, hungry nothing that had consumed the space behind her and even now roiled outward like an invisible mist, devouring everything it touched. Zeqing’s house groaned and shook like a cottage in the middle of a violent storm.

<Oh, to nightmare with that! Run faster, please!> Sixiang shouted in her head, and Ling Qi obliged as she darted around a corner at Hanyi’s direction. Ling Qi heard a crack and a crash like a heavy beam or rafter falling and crashing to the ground, and she launched herself upward at Hanyi’s shout to clamber up the invisible and glasslike surface that presented itself.

With each centimeter she climbed, Hanyi’s weight grew ever greater until her limbs trembled with the effort of holding them both up. For the first time, the mad dash she had been making felt like it was catching up with her. Fatigue dragged at her limbs and dulled her senses, and below, the nothing churned, climbing upward with every moment. Could she really do this? Zeqing’s resistance was growing stronger with each passing moment, and she knew that once it passed a certain point, there was no hope of success.

The darkness yawned infinitely overhead and all around. Ling Qi knew somewhere in her mind that her fatigue wasn’t natural, that the creeping despair that she felt rising wasn’t her own, but it was so hard just to hold on. Even Sixiang’s urgent fear was fading, growing dull under the weight that seemed to suffuse her entire being.

She stiffened as she felt Hanyi’s arms tighten around her and felt the young spirit’s face pressing against the back of her neck. “It hurts,” she whispered, and Ling Qi felt the cold pinprick of tears against her skin. “It’d be better if I stayed, wouldn’t it? You could get away, and I could be part of Mama again. Wouldn’t that be okay?”

“It wouldn’t,” Ling Qi gritted out through clenched teeth, digging her fingers into semi-solid darkness and dragging herself up another handspan. She hated this. For so long, night and darkness had represented safety to her, but now, it rejected her, repelling her qi and pressing down like a smothering blanket.

“Why? It’s my fault Mama is like this,” Hanyi whimpered. “Before I started bothering her for lessons, everyone was happy.”

Ling Qi squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the growing instinct to agree, to release her charge. She knew there was a reason, but it seemed so very hard to grasp at the moment. “She enjoyed it though,” Ling Qi rasped, finding it difficult to push out words. “It was the same for me. She liked seeing us grow. Didn’t it make you happy too?”

“Obviously not, if this is the result.”

All of the noise and motion and stress seemed to cease, and time slowed. Ling Qi was still moving, still scrambling upward, but it was if everything had slowed down a thousandfold except for her thoughts.

“Why are you so determined to take my daughter from me? Put her down, and live, child.” Zeqing’s voice resounded from all around her. The weight of it was cold and crushing, almost suffocating in its intensity, but there was something lacking to it, something hollow and almost mechanical.

This wasn’t her teacher, or at least, not all of her. It was not the part that had taught her, the part that had sympathized with her, the part that had done something as silly as participating in a birthday party for her sake. Yet it still had power, enough to crush her, if it were unleashed. Ling Qi remembered the last time she had felt crushed by a superior power. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared upward.

“No.”

<Uh, Ling Qi?> Sixiang whispered weakly, their voice barely audible or present. The cloying despair that threatened to devour her was having a much worse effect on her wholly spiritual companion

“No?” The not-Zeqing repeated, the faintest hint of bemusement entering its voice. “Do you…?”

“Shut up,” Ling Qi hissed, dragging herself upward another centimeter. “I’m not like I was. I’m not!” she bit out. “Zeqing is my teacher, and that makes Hanyi my junior sister. I’m not going to betray that duty because of a… a damn muscle spasm like you!” Because that’s all this voice was in the end. She had spoken to the real, conscious Zeqing. The power trying to stop her was just an involuntary reaction. It was Zeqing’s spiritual nature recoiling and reacting against her will.

Snarling, Ling Qi pushed qi outward from her dantian. Zeqing had taught her so much, given her so much, and she wouldn’t fail to repay her, wouldn’t fail her daughter like that. Darkness beat in her heart and cycled in her lungs. It crackled and flowed through her limbs and spine, and in the next moment, she seized the not-space around her and soared.

Even as she rocketed upward and the darkness outside of her reach shrieked, even as she hardened her body with Thousand Rings Unbreaking against the hail of razor ice that pounded down on her, she instinctively knew that it wasn’t going to be enough. Her energy was already starting to ebb, and the weight on her back was still too much.

“Hanyi! Do you really want things to go back to the way they were? Do you really want to forget the things your mother taught you? To stay the same forever?!” she shouted over the sleet storm that engulfed them.

“I -” the little girl murmured, shaking like a leaf. “I… I want to be like Mama!” Hanyi cried out, and immediately, Ling Qi felt the weight on her back grow lighter. “I want to be strong and smart and pretty and...” Her voice choked off in a sob. “I wanna be able to go and come back!”

Their surroundings went mad. Ling Qi felt herself crash through something, splinters of the barrier leaving deep cuts on her skin even through her defensive technique. For the next several moments, the world was naught but a chaos of light and sound and auras.

Then she crashed into a snowbank and went rolling wildly across a field. Ling Qi pushed herself up off the snowy ground, but she was still dizzy and groggy. Her vision swam, and she staggered as she got back to her feet. There was something missing.

She looked ahead and saw where she was. Ling Qi stood on the mountaintop, and ahead of her lay the ruins of Zeqing’s home. Wood and glass and straw lay strewn across the snow, and it was fading, losing its color and melting like frost on a spring morning. Her eyes were drawn up to where a silent figure floated above the rubble. Zeqing floated there, gown rippling in a phantom breeze and face raised toward the stars. They were at the center of a great storm. Great dark clouds rumbled and churned below their feet, masking the world below the peak from sight.

“... Mama?”

Ling Qi startled as she heard Hanyi, only now noticing that the spirit’s weight was missing from her back. She glanced to her side and saw what she thought was Hanyi struggling to her feet, looking up at Zeqing. The spirit had changed. Hanyi was taller and more slender, although she was still clearly a child, seeming no more than eleven or twelve. Her silver hair hung loose down to her shoulders and rippled in a phantom wind like her mother’s. Her childish dress was gone as well, replaced with a garment of pale blue silk that with billowing sleeves and a hem that dragged against the snow. Unlike her mother though, she had a solid form. Pale blue hands reached up toward Zeqing, and Hanyi left faint tracks in the snow.

Zeqing looked down, and Ling Qi winced at the cracks crisscrossing her face, the gaping hole where her left eye and matching brow should have been. She felt the disorder and damage to her master’s aura and could only swallow and offer a last bow.

Zeqing gave her a shallow nod and turned her gaze to Hanyi. Her cracked lips moved, and though Ling Qi heard nothing, Hanyi let out a quiet sob.

Then Zeqing turned her eyes back upward, and the wind rose once again, a mournful howl that echoed from the mountaintop. When the flurry of kicked-up snowflakes settled to the ground, Zeqing was gone, and all that remained on the mountaintop was the odd little fruit tree and the two of them.

Ling Qi hunched her shoulders and held in the tears that wanted to well up. She had thought this might happen, but… she couldn’t regret it. This was what Zeqing had wanted.

<She’s not totally gone,> Sixiang murmured even as Hanyi fell to her knees atop the snow, crying openly. <But I can’t say whether the spirit that reforms in this place will be her or how long it will be until she reforms.>

Ling Qi gave a faint nod of acknowledgement to the muse’s words and moved over to Hanyi. She knelt in the snow to wrap the young girl in a hug. “I’m sorry, junior sister,” she said quietly. “But… she was happy at the end, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” Hanyi sniffled. “She said she was proud of me, and... she was glad she got to see me grow up.”

Ling Qi closed her eyes and let the younger girl cry her tears out. She had done her duty to her teacher, and now, she had another little sister to take care of.

Threads 26 Winters Muse 4

“Well, you’ve had quite an ordeal, haven’t you?” Xin asked rhetorically with a sigh, withdrawing her faintly glowing hand from Ling Qi’s forehead. “The entropic qi still left in your channels is assimilating nicely.”

Ling Qi wasn’t entirely sure what “entropic” meant, but it seemed to resonate oddly in her ears. Given context, it was some form of toxic qi. She was just glad for the examination to be over. Xin stood over Ling Qi, who sat upon a treatment table in one of the Medicine Hall’s many rooms. Xin wore the same oddly patterned red and blue gown she had been wearing when they met long ago in Elder Zhou’s test. The spirit's silver hair hung loose at her shoulders this time, giving a slight impression of dishevelment.

Ling Qi nodded shallowly, glancing down at Hanyi, who had fallen asleep half-lying across her lap. Given everything that had happened, she couldn’t blame the girl. It made her wonder just how many human-like quirks the young spirit might have. “I hope I didn’t cause the Sect too much trouble,” Ling Qi said in a small voice.

It was only after she had descended that she had seen the effects of her tribulation on the surroundings. White Cloud Mountain was buried in snow, and even with the storm dying down, trees had been torn from the earth by howling winds. Things in the Outer Sect were, in general, a bit of a mess. She had not missed the vein pulsing in Elder Jiao’s temple when he had appeared to whisk her and Hanyi off to the Medicine Hall.

“We had expected something of the sort to be occurring soon,” Xin soothed, glancing down at the tablet of jade in her hands. The recording device vanished with a flick of her wrist. “Elder Ying made preparations, so the damage was limited to the mountain.”

Ling Qi let out a sigh of relief. She had worried that she might have endangered the mortals in the town at the base of the mountain and by extension, her mother and her little sister. “Will the Outer Sect be…?”

“We are treating it as a bit of an impromptu trial, and we have rewarded a few disciples for their decisive actions during the storm,” Xin replied with a thread of amusement, turning to pace away.

Ling Qi felt her fists clench, her knuckles growing white. “How can you be cheerful? Wasn’t Zeqing your friend too?”

Silence answered her, and Ling Qi swallowed faintly as she raised her eyes. She really needed to stop forgetting herself in front of elders and powerful spirits.

Xin’s expression was not angry though; there was only a touch of sorrow in her red eyes.”This was the best path available for my friend. Why should I not be cheerful?” she asked, crossing her arms under her chest as she met Ling Qi’s gaze challengingly.

“I’m sorry. It’s just - you can read the future, right? I’ve been studying some divination, so I know that’s the New Moon’s purview, and…” Ling Qi hunched her shoulders. “Was there really no better way to do this?”

Xin sighed, leaning back against one of the cupboards full of medicinal supplies that lined the room. “There is divination, and there is divination, Ling Qi. Clairvoyance and its related disciplines are both the simplest and most reliable. Object reading and postcognition are relatively simple as well given a reasonable proximity to the present. Future sight, or even prediction, is not so easy nor so simple.”

Ling Qi nodded, taking the gentle rebuke for what it was. “But you did say this was the best outcome.”

Xin cracked a wan smile. “Peering into the future stretches a human-compatible mind to its limits. It’s true enough that battle precognition can be reliable, presuming the enemy does not counter or obfuscate your sight. Peering forward a second or two into your immediate surroundings involves a mere few million relevant factors after all. I might manage as much as a minute, barring interference. Beyond that, however… That is the realm of my greater self. For those of us in the material realm, we must be content with clearsightedly seeking our objectives.”

“There wasn’t any way for Zeqing and Hanyi to continue the way they had forever then,” Ling Qi said, brushing her fingers through Hanyi’s hair.

“Yes,” Xin replied sadly. “Your appearance is what gave me the opportunity to help my friend. It worked as well as could be expected for everyone involved.”

Ling Qi wondered if she should feel resentful at the manipulation, but she quickly dismissed the notion. That Xin could more clearly see the outcomes of her actions did not change her character.

“If it makes you feel any better, as I understand it, predicting the future is just a matter of gambling with the odds visible,” Sixiang murmured.

“As my nibling said. Though a wise diviner knows how to weight the die, as it were,” Xin said with a slight smile. “But in the end, the world is not a xiangqi board. The pieces move themselves, and there are no players. No diviner can have full certainty in their predictions, and the belief that one can has led many to ruin.”

***

Ling Qi thought on those words many times in the days that followed. The implications of divination were not something she had thought deeply on before, but with her plans to cultivate the Curious Diviner’s Eye art, it seemed relevant.

<Big Sister, that scary girl is still following us. Are you sure we shouldn’t try to get rid of her?> Hanyi asked in her head.

<I gotta agree with the squirt,> Sixiang agreed. <Uh, if we mean losing her, anyway. I don’t think we wanna pick that fight yet.>

Ling Qi grimaced. Ever since she had departed Elder Heng’s lessons, Sun Liling had been trailing after her at the edges of her senses. The hostility and bloodlust leaking from the girl was just enough to put her on edge and keep her there, something she couldn’t help but feel the girl was doing on purpose. It confused her though. They had not interacted since the tournament. She had seen neither hide nor hair of the girl in months, so why start stalking her now?

Ling Qi strongly considered taking her spirit's advice and simply flying off the path and vanishing from the Sect’s beaten paths. However, something in her rebelled at that. She had every right to walk the Sect’s paths. She should be able to go and visit her friends without having to duck and hide and skulk.

With that thought in mind, Ling Qi turned on her heel and put on a polite smile as she began to walk toward the place she could feel the other girl lurking. For a moment, the faint feeling of Sun Liling’s qi wavered, but it rapidly stilled. The other girl could hardly give the impression of running away.

Very soon, she turned down the mountain path and brought the other girl into sight. Sun Liling sat cross-legged atop one of the trail markers, looking out over the sheer cliff below and looking for all the world like she wasn’t paying her any attention at all.

“Princess Sun,” Ling Qi greeted politely, coming to a stop a distance away. “I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed to be seeking me. May I help you with something?”

Sun Liling glanced at her without bothering to turn her head. “Hmm. Paranoia’s not a good look. No reason to get worked up about someone walkin’ the same direction as you. I was just lookin’ for a good meditation spot.”

Ling Qi restrained a scowl, but there was no point in arguing with the other girl.

<How come? She’s obviously lying,> Hanyi said guilelessly in her thoughts. <Does she think you’re dumb? Big Sister should beat her up.>

Ling Qi sent a silent thanks to Sixiang as the spirit pulled Hanyi deeper into her dantian to explain. “My apologies then,” she said sweetly. “If I might be a little rude, princess, you might wish to talk to someone about your troubles if they’ve affected your restraint so badly.”

Sun Liling shot her a withering look. “Well, thanks much,” she said in a voice as dry as a desert. “Let me give ya a little advice in return, little doggie. Your mistress is gonna have some real trouble in the future. You both made some real bad choices last year.”

“Is that so,” Ling Qi said blandly. “I’m sorry, Princess Sun. I must be misunderstanding because that almost sounded like a threat.”

“You’re forgiven,” the redhead replied with a smirk. “Just informing ya, opening borders with the Bai… It’s just asking for trouble, you know? They’re pretty bad at policing their domain. It just hurts my poor heart to think of those Emerald Seas folks living near the border.”

Ling Qi narrowed her eyes. “Are you certain you weren’t seeking me out, Princess Sun? That seems oddly specific.”

“Hm, maybe I was? You know how it is. Little stuff can slip the mind.” Sun Liling shrugged. “Go ahead and run along then.”

Ling Qi restrained the urge to grind her teeth at the flippant dismissal. Instead, she simply turned away. If Sun Liling had so openly stated something, then the information wasn’t valuable. She supposed it wasn’t exactly a secret that the Sun family would not be taking their humiliation at the New Year’s Tournament lying down.

Aside from informing Cai Renxiang, there was nothing to do about it for the moment. While things remained peaceful, she could only keep pursuing her goals.

***

Ling Qi restrained the urge to sigh as she strolled down the street that led to her mother’s - no, their family's - temporary home. She was still unused to the way visiting the mortal town at the base of the mountain felt now. It did not help that the uncomfortable things about it were only growing more so. The part of the town she walked through now was near the wealthy center of the town. The governor's manor and the main temple were only a turn or two away, and she had just passed the town’s office of the Ministry of Law. The homes here were owned by wealthy business owners, noble visitors, Sect members, and the town’s highest officials.

A bit over a year ago, she would have received a beating just for walking down a street like this on the assumption that she was there with ill intentions. Now, patrol officers and house guards alike straightened up at her passage, straining to appear at the peak of attention and dutifulness. People in the streets discreetly made way for her or offered murmured greetings of respect. It still felt surreal.

Her discomfort was only made worse by how fragile everything around her felt. She spent almost all of her time with her peers in cultivation, so these trips into town always felt almost disorienting. She had come to rely on the senses afforded by her cultivation. To see the people around her so lifeless and dark with barely a spark of active qi and aura to differentiate them from stones and pots... It felt like she had walked into a world where all the color and sound had drained away.

<It’s not like they’re not really there though,> Sixiang said quietly. <If you bother to look closer, you can still see the things that make them people. They’re just not as loud as you cultivators.>

Ling Qi accepted the light chiding. Sixiang was right, of course. If she actually paid attention, she could still easily read the little stories told by mortal auras. For all of their low magnitude, they were actually much clearer than her peers’ auras, whose intentions and thoughts were much more well cloaked, presenting only broad themes to casual inspection.

<Are you sure I can’t walk next to you, Big Sister?> Hanyi interjected, complaining.

<You can come out when we reach the house,> Ling Qi thought calmly. Being here in public amongst mortals was an exercise in self-restraint, of shutting down the passive effects of her qi as much as possible. It felt like shoving herself into a dress that was three sizes too small. She didn’t understand how elders, who had so very much more to repress, could manage it. She wasn’t even doing it perfectly at the moment. She saw the minute twitches in the postures of passersby as they heard the faint sound of music and the faint shivers of those who passed nearby. She could probably suppress the feeling entirely if she chose to exercise her stealth skills, but then she would have to deal with people literally not noticing her physical presence and avoiding the security formations meant to look out for that kind of thing.

Ling Qi let out an internal sigh of relief as the gates of the house came into view. She swept past the Sect guard at the gate without a word, a brief press of her hand momentarily disabling the lock on the door.

She could feel many unfamiliar presences inside, moving about. Usually, she visited in the evening after the household had mostly been dismissed or gone to sleep. This time, though, as she stepped inside, she found herself briefly coming face-to-face with a young mortal woman a few years her elder in drab but clean and well-kempt clothing. Ling Qi saw almost in slow motion as the young woman’s eyes widened in first surprise then alarm. She saw the way that the mortal’s grip on the bamboo broom in her hands grew tight enough to whiten her knuckles and the way her eyes darted to and fro, noting with alarm the parts of the path which were still unswept.

Of course, that all happened in a split second. By the time the gate had clicked shut behind her, the young woman had stepped out of her path and bowed low, murmuring a quiet “Lady Ling.” Ling Qi was just as glad that the young woman had not gone for a full kowtow. She had seen the consideration pass through the woman’s body language.

“You may raise your head,” Ling Qi said. It would probably be less alarming to the mortal if she just kept to a polite distance. She glanced toward the house, pinpointing the presences of her mother and sister as she stepped past the young woman, eager to put the awkwardness behind her.

She ignored the sigh of relief she heard from behind her as she stepped up to the door. The scene repeated itself with another housekeeper, busy with polishing floors in a side hall, but the awkwardness vanished from Ling Qi’s thoughts a moment later. She felt her little sister’s qi move first, and the little girl ran around the corner, almost taking a spill on the polished floors. Almost, because Ling Qi had moved without thought, flickering down the length of the hall to catch her younger sister in her arms before Biyu could faceplant on the floor.

“Hey, careful now,” she chided, scooping the girl up in her arms as she stood. “You shouldn’t run in the house.”

Biyu squirmed in her grasp until she could look up at Ling Qi with a bright smile. “Wanted to see Sis-y.”

“Oh? How did you know I was coming?” Ling Qi asked absently, feeling another presence coming from around the corner Biyu had come from.

“Heard the song!” her little sister declared enthusiastically.

<Sheesh, she’s all little and squishy. Are you sure that she’s your sister, Big Sister?> Hanyi asked.

<She is, and you need to be nice to her,> Ling Qi thought to Hanyi. Out loud, she grinned down at her little sister. “That’s no excuse. Walk next time.”

As Biyu agreed in that reluctant way children had, the presence approaching arrived. A woman her mother’s age but a fair bit more stout in build came puffing around the corner. “Ling Biyu, what have your mother and I said about…”

Ling Qi felt the awkwardness return as the woman met Ling Qi’s eyes, and her lined face almost went slack. “Lady Ling, my deepest apologies. Young Biyu slipped my grasp for but a moment, and…”

Ling Qi held back a grimace as the older woman bowed deeply once and then again as she apologized. “There is nothing to apologize for,” she said, doing her best to sound calm and soothing. “You can take a break though. I will take care of Biyu for the moment.”

She read the relief in the woman’s expression as she straightened up, but she also noticed the hesitation in her body language. It occurred to her that she was probably disrupting her mother’s scheduling and orders. She would have to talk about that with her mother later. For now though, it was best to keep rolling with it. She met the woman’s gaze patiently, and the older woman bowed again and backed away, leaving her to keep seeking her mother.

“Nanny was weird,” Biyu said, a frown on her little face.

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Ling Qi replied absently as she began to mount the stairs.

<You scared her out of her skin,> Sixiang said drolly.

Probably, Ling Qi admitted in her head. There was little she could do about that though. “What does Nanny do, Biyu?”

“She plays with Biyu when Momma is busy,” her little sister explained authoritatively.

“Is Mother busy a lot?” Ling Qi asked, wondering whether she had given her mother too much work.

“Nuh uh,” the little girl replied, shaking her head.

<Trust the lady a bit,> Sixiang said bluntly.

Ling Qi dipped her head. She really did need to work on that. It was part of why she was here.

They reached the second floor then, and Ling Qi stepped out into the hall. Ling Qingge was in her room at the moment. Letting out a breath, Ling Qi loosened her hold on her qi by just a fraction as she approached the door. Biyu laughed and clapped in her arms, and a moment later, her mother’s door opened.

“It looks like you’re making some progress,” she said brightly, smiling as her mother peered out of the room. The light of her qi was still a wan, near transparent thing, but it had a bit more life in it than those of other mortals.

“Ling Qi,” her mother greeted with a sigh, opening the door further. “My apologies. I was not expecting you today.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t send ahead,” Ling Qi dismissed, easily stepping past her mother. The room was much like her own on the mountain, a combination of bedroom and study, though in soft warm colors and wood rather than stark grey stone. “Might I ask what you have been up to?”

Closing the door behind her, Ling Qingge turned to face her. Ling Qi took a moment to study her mother. The lines on her face were still there, but she had changed. There was some fractional lightening of the burden she always seemed to carry, a touch less meekness in her stance. Having control of something in her life seemed to be agreeing with her.

“I have been studying trends in presentation and dining for the nobility. I know it is unlikely, but I should like the household to be acceptable if you ever entertain guests,” Ling Qingge replied quietly.

Ling Qi hadn’t even really considered that as an option, although she really should have. Well, maybe she could invite Xiulan as a test sometime? She bent down, letting Biyu loose, only for the little girl to clamber up onto their mother’s bed. She shot an apologetic look to the older woman. “I’ve been focused on other things, but it looks like you’re keeping things in good order.”

‘Thank you,” her mother said with a slight smile. “I admit, things have been somewhat hectic recently with the terrible storms up on the mountain. The Sect kept us all safe, of course, but it was very unnerving.”

“The wind was really scary,” Biyu announced solemnly as Ling Qingge scooped her up, seating the younger girl on her lap as she sat down next to a small table which still held an open book.

Ling Qi laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess that would have been pretty rough, huh?”

Ling Qingge narrowed her eyes, and just for a second, Ling Qi felt like she was seeing the woman she had known when she was still Biyu’s size. “Ling Qi… were you involved with the matter?”

Ling Qi considered deflecting, but that wasn’t what she was here for. “More like I was the cause,” she admitted. “That’s part of why I came here today. I owe you an apology.”

Her mother looked at her in confusion, but she quickly shook her head. “Ling Qi, you do not owe me any such thing. You-”

“No,” Ling Qi interrupted forcefully. “Mother, I did something that could have gotten me badly hurt or killed. I did it on purpose, knowing what I was getting into. I should have at least told you first. I do owe you that much.”

Her mother fell silent, and her little sister looked back and forth between them, worried but not quite comprehending the conversation.

“Why?” her mother asked after a moment of silence.

Ling Qi looked down. “I was trying to shield you from worry, but… I guess while I was up there, it occured to me how disrespectful that was. Even if you can’t always do anything, you deserve to know what is going on.”

She had invited her Mother back into her life. She didn’t just want to treat her like an obligation. She had to do more to include her family in her life because things ended, and once they did, it was too late for regrets.

Threads 27 Siblings 1

For a long moment, silence reigned in the bedroom. Ling Qi could feel the turmoil in her mother’s thoughts. There was fear for Ling Qi, a helpless and directionless anger, and many other conflicting emotions. What emerged from that emotional morass, however, was resolve.

“Was there something in that storm worth risking your life for?” her mother asked, drawing her attention back.

“Absolutely,” Ling Qi answered immediately. “The spirit of the mountain was my teacher. More than anything else, I was there to save her daughter.” In her dantian, Hanyi’s qi seemed to both curl up and reach out to grasp hers. “In fact, I actually wanted to introduce you to her, if you don’t mind.”

Her mother leaned back, releasing the squirming Biyu to slide down onto the floor from her lap. “Is that safe?” she asked faintly. “The spirits are -” Ling Qingge shook herself. “No, you would not suggest it if it were unsafe, but… why?”

Ling Qi smiled wanly. “Didn’t I say? She’s the daughter of my master. That makes her my junior sister and my responsibility. You deserve to know the ones who are in our family.”

“I see,” her mother replied, fidgeting with her gown. There was an old and ingrained fear embedded there. Ling Qi knew that to most mortals, spirits were distant and unapproachable things, much more so than spirit beasts with their simpler motives and behaviors. “You are right. As… family, it is only right.”

Biyu, of course, was only looking around with incomprehension, unsure of what they were talking about.

<You’re up. Please be careful, Hanyi,> she thought, giving the young spirit a gentle nudge with her qi.

In front of her, the air glittered, and frost spread across the carpet as Hanyi expressed herself, fading into view. Ling Qi felt the flicker of alarm and revulsion that passed through her mother as the spirit solidified. It hurt a little, but she expected it. She knew that to mortal eyes, Hanyi’s appearance was distressing. A young girl with skin and lips that looked like a corpse, a victim of the cold sleep, and blank white eyes without iris or pupil - of course that would be alarming.

She saw Hanyi’s growing pout and gave her a silent nudge with her qi.

“Hiya,” she greeted with a mildly disrespectful bob of her head. “My name is Hanyi. I guess you’re Big Sis’ family, huh?”

There was silence for a moment until the silence was broken by Biyu, who had backed away and whose eyes were wide with alarm and fear. “Ghost?” she asked, looking to Ling Qi for support.

Hanyi beat her to the response though. “No, don’t be a dummy. You’ll make your sister look bad. I’m a real spirit, not some whiny echo,” she boasted. Ling Qi noticed with some wariness a thread of jealousy and vindictiveness in Hanyi’s thoughts as with regard to her sister. She would have to talk to Hanyi about that later.

“It’s fine, Biyu. Hanyi isn’t a scary ghost. Would I let her in here if she was?” Ling Qi answered patiently, ignoring Hanyi’s words for now. The young spirit shot her a pouting look. “She’s my friend, like Zhengui is. Do you understand?”

“Oh,” the little girl said, still eyeing Hanyi warily. “Where is lil’ turtle?”

“You’ll get to see him again soon,” Ling Qi said with a smile.

“That dummy better be up soon,” Hanyi grumbled.

More importantly, Ling Qi thought, giving her Mother a surreptitious glance, the little aside had given Ling Qingge the time to compose herself and stand.

“Welcome to my home… Hanyi,” she said, offering a polite bow. Ling Qingge hesitated on using the spirit’s name, which was understandable. Generally, mortals would use an epithet. “As my daughter’s junior sister, you are welcome here.”

Hanyi blinked, turning back to the older woman, and Ling Qi felt a complicated snarl of emotions in Hanyi’s heart as she regarded Ling Qingge. “Yeah, um - thank you for your welcome,” she replied with awkward formality.

Ling Qi suspected that Hanyi wasn’t sure what to make of Ling Qingge. Hanyi had a certain disregard for those weaker than her and had little social experience in general, but the role of “mother” was one she understood very well.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Hanyi scuffed her foot against the frosted carpet and Ling Qingge seemed to struggle with her own ingrained manners.

“And I’m Sixiang!” the empty air next to Ling Qi’s head announced brightly. “I can’t say I’m family, but I do live in Ling Qi’s head, so I’m afraid I’ll be intruding on the regular.”

Her mother’s expression was one of blank confusion, and Biyu was once again looking around, searching futilely for someone who was not there.

“You’ve done some good stuff with the house you know,” Sixiang continued, unabated. “Between shifting the furniture around and switching around the decor, it feels way more welcoming. I have no idea how Ling Qi manages to be so dull about that kinda thing.”

“Thank you, I think?” her mother replied haltingly, looking to Ling Qi for explanation.

“Sixiang is another spirit of mine. They're a dream muse, the kind that inspires artists,” Ling Qi explained.

“And look at this one, cute as a button. I’d pinch your lil cheeks if I had hands,” Sixiang rambled on, and Biyu let out a surprised yelp as a brush of wind ruffled her hair. “Never woulda guessed you were Ling Qi’s sister.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ling Qi asked irately.

“Hey, Big Sis is totally cute,” Hanyi said at the same time, stomping her foot.

“Pfft. Yeah, yeah, you two have that ‘scary chic’ thing going on,” Sixiang announced, and Ling Qi felt in her thoughts the equivalent of the dream spirit giving her an exaggerated wink. “Not at all like the little cutie here.”

Biyu pouted up at the empty air. “Don’t be mean! Sis-y is pretty!”

“Hmph, it’s better if she’s more like me and Momma anyway,” Hanyi huffed.

Ling Qi looked to her bewildered looking Mother and gave her a sheepish smile. “So... Yeah, this is how things are. I know it’s not exactly normal, especially for you, but I wanted to include you in more of my life.”

Her mother looked faintly bemused as Hanyi argued with empty air and Biyu squealed in delight, trying to catch tickling fingers that weren’t there. “I cannot say I understand entirely, but… thank you all the same, Ling Qi.”

Ling Qi nodded, feeling lighter than before. Still, there was one more matter of family to take care of.

***

As busy as she had been in the last few months, Ling Qi had not had the leisure to spend much time at the hill Zhengui was hibernating in. So she was glad that the Sect had assigned someone to check on the location periodically as well. She knew the Sect was doing so partially out of self-interest. Having a confused, recently broken through beast of Zhengui’s likely size wandering around would not do them any good, and studying his growth could benefit them in other ways too, or so Cai Renxiang had said after making the arrangement. She would also receive a copy of their observations for the future.

That was why Ling Qi knew that observation and divination had indicated that her little brother would awake sometime tomorrow afternoon. It had been fortuitous news.

Sitting out here on the veranda with her Mother, looking out over the garden, she couldn’t regret that. The sun was on its way down now, and Biyu had fallen asleep some time ago, worn out by the excitement. Ling Qingge was seated in the lotus position, breathing slowly as she followed the basic exercises Ling Qi had given her. Hanyi was still out as well, snuggled up to Ling Qi’s side, toying with a half-frozen flower. The shattered remains of its predecessors littered the young spirit's lap and the floor around her.

Ling Qi cast a sidelong look at her mother. As much as her cultivation and arts had improved as of late, she could feel in far more detail the problems that plagued her mother’s cultivation. Though it was inactive, she could feel Ling Qingge’s dantian. It was small and empty like all mortals', but subtle flaws had been made clear. Though it appeared as a healthy vessel on the surface, it really wasn’t. It was like a jug riven by a hundred, invisible, hairline cracks, and though it could hold some “water,” the closer the jug came to being filled, the more “water” was forced out through the widening cracks.

While Ling Qi did not know enough of the subject to say, she suspected that this was the result of age on cultivation potential. Her mother let out a deep breath then, opening her eyes, and Ling Qi watched the slow trickle as recently cultivated qi began to dissipate.

“I never imagined that sitting and breathing could be so tiring,” her mother sighed, trying and failing to disguise the slump of fatigue in her shoulders.

“There’s a bit more to it than that, even if you can’t quite tell yet,” Ling Qi said wryly. “Are you done for the night?”

“I believe so,” Ling Qingge answered.

“You shouldn’t be. If you stay like that, you’re gonna disappear and make Big Sis sad,” Hanyi commented idly, not looking up from her project. The young spirit blew gently on the flower in her hands, sending scraps of the plant matter still clinging to the fragile sculpture fluttering away.

Awkward silence fell in the wake of her words, and Ling Qi sighed. She really was going to have to work on Hanyi’s social skills.

“I think we’re still a long way from worrying about that,” Sixiang said lightly. “Anyway, Ling Qi, didn’t you have something you wanted to ask?”

“I did,” Ling Qi said, silently thanking Sixiang for the save. She glanced again at her mother, glad to see that her composure hadn’t been shaken much by Hanyi’s impolite comment. “I was hoping to take you and Biyu on a day trip tomorrow. Do you think you’ll be up for it?”

“I suppose,” Ling Qingge replied slowly. “I wish you had given me more notice. I could have prepared better.”

“Well, we would be going out into the wilderness a ways,” Ling Qi said. “Not exactly something you need to get fancy for.”

“You mean outside the wards?” her mother asked in alarm.

“I am pretty strong,” Ling Qi soothed. “Neither of you will be in any danger, and you got here alright, even without me, didn’t you?”

“Traveling on the road is a different matter, and not, I suspect, what you intend,” Ling Qingge said with a hint of reproach.

“That’s fair, but I promise that both of you will be safe. I just want everyone to be there when Zhengui wakes up,” Ling Qi said, causing Hanyi to perk up as well.

“The Xuan Wu?” her mother asked in confusion. “It will be an impressive sight, I’m sure, but…”

“Mother,” Ling Qi interrupted quietly. “Zhengui is family too. I know you can’t understand him yet, but he’s as smart as Hanyi or I.” She shot the spirit beside her an unimpressed look at the scoff that elicited. “I raised him from an egg. He’s my... little brother, and this is kinda like his birthday, you know?”

Ling Qingge gave her a long, searching look, and Ling Qi shifted uncomfortably. Searching her words and the tone they had come out in, she had a feeling that she had implied the wrong thing. She almost thought to correct herself, but that wasn’t a tangle she wanted to voice aloud.

<I’m missing something again, aren’t I? Why does the idea that the big goof is more like your kid than your brother bother you so much?> Sixiang asked silently.

Ling Qi held in a grimace as her mother nodded. “Very well. I will trust you, Ling Qi. Is there anything I should know in order to prepare?”

“Well, the first thing is… he’s going to be a bit bigger than you remember...”

Threads 28 Siblings 2

Ling Qi was not able to cultivate as much as she would have liked that night, even though with her new rank, she had moved to a new residence with a better argent vent than before with the start of the fourth month. She knew it was her own fault for putting off preparations for this though.

By the time the sun had risen the next day, the proper forms had been filled out, permits paid for, and permissions granted to rent out a carriage that could navigate the rough hilly and wooded terrain. Zhengui’s hill was still well within the Sect’s grounds, so there was no need to hire more than a handful of guards to ward off the dimmer sort of spirit beasts without having to flex her own spirit and scare her family.

When they set out the next day, she could tell that her mother was on edge, and the consequences of confining a small child into even a spacious carriage didn’t help matters. Still, as first an hour, and then another, passed without incident, Ling Qingge seemed to find a reserve of nerve and calm herself.

For Ling Qi’s part, the transportation was interminably slow. While the carriage never so much as bounced or jostled them, no matter what terrain was outside the window, it didn’t help Ling Qi from feeling stir crazy as time went on. She could run faster than this thing. But she trusted that this was the best that could be done while keeping mortals in mind. It was worth it, she felt, when they reached their destination, a clearing next to a shallow brook that ran sluggishly around the base of Zhengui’s hill.

Here, the second part of her preparations came into play in the form of a couple of trinkets she had picked up overnight at the Inner Sect market. She had bought a “pocket pavillion,” a block of formation-carved wood that rapidly unfolded into a wide wooden platform with self-adjusting stilted legs to ensure an even surface, and a single use storage talisman meant specifically to hold prepared meals in good order.

Ling Qingge looked on in bemusement from inside the carriage as Ling Qi finished setting up, holding tightly onto the squirming little girl in her lap. Behind Ling Qi, the platform settled, and a faint mist hissed from the thick rug which made up the storage talisman, revealing in its wake baskets full of simple fare.

“Come on out, Mother,” Ling Qi said cheerfully, giving the platform a subtle nudge, causing it to pop out a couple of steps in a puff of sawdust-scented smoke.

Ling Qingge stepped slowly down from the carriage, looking left and right as the guards who had been driving the carriage and riding along on the back spaced themselves out, forming an out-of-sight perimeter for them.

“It really is this easy, is it not?” her mother asked wistfully as she stepped down onto the dry earth.

Ling Qi understood the subtext in her mother’s words and smiled. “Cultivation does make the world a much bigger place,” she agreed. “Come on though. Relax a little, and enjoy the fresh air. It could be a little while until he actually wakes up.”

Hesitating only a moment more, her mother set Biyu down, who immediately scrambled up onto the platform, following the smell of food rising from the baskets and the containers. Ling Qingge followed a moment later, settling herself carefully on the rug. “How long did you spend preparing this?”

“Most of the night,” Ling Qi admitted. “But I rarely sleep anymore.”

“And food is something you need only eat for the flavor,” Ling Qingge mused, looking out over the spread. “... I suppose that explains your lack of concern for nutrition.”

Ling Qi laughed sheepishly, glancing at the copious number of sweets among what she had ordered. “Well, even for you and Biyu, it doesn’t hurt to indulge once in a while, right? Besides, I have other food as well. You still like those lotus seed dumplings, right?”

Ling Qingge shook her head, the last of the tension draining from her frame. “It is so very easy now, isn’t it?” she asked again.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Ling Qi replied bluntly. Neither she nor her mother or anyone else in her family would have to scrimp and save just to have their favorite food once a year. “These little things - everyone should have that. It’s not like there’s any shortage of things to strive for.”

<I don’t see what the big deal is. None of this stuff is even alive,> Hanyi said within her dantian, her qi conveying a pout. <Wake me up when Zhengui starts moving around.>

“I suppose I will just accept my good fortune,” her mother replied with a small smile before glancing to the side, her eyes widening. “Biyu, no! Do not put your hands in that!”

Ling Qi darted over, expertly removing her little sister from the desserts basket, much to the little girl’s protests and the amusement of the muse in her head. This had been the right decision.

Over the course of the next few hours, Ling Qi found herself growing more comfortable and relaxed as she chatted with her mother and drifted over from the platform to the banks of the little brook after the food had been finished. Still, she kept an eye on the slowly thickening stream of smoke rising from Zhengui’s hill and the mostly imperceptible tremors rippling out through both dirt and qi alike.

So, when the ground began to rattle and rumble, she was ready, snatching Biyu from the edge of the brook and placing a steadying hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Looks like the guest of honor is about to get here,” she said lightly to put her mother at ease. “Let me just make things a little easier.”

As she finished speaking, she breathed out, cycling her qi through the forms of the Thousand Ring’s Unbreaking and Deepwood Vitality techniques. Biyu clapped in delight as rippling viridian light spread from Ling Qi’s hands and across her body, and her mother, though startled, merely looked down at herself in consternation, opening and closing her hands as if seeing them for the first time.

Though the earth shook and smoke was belched into the sky, neither of them was so much as knocked off-balance, even as one of the hired guards rushed back to calm the horses. In her arms, Ling Qi felt Biyu begin to grow distressed as the noise coming from the hill grew louder and a stream of superheated ash shot into the air, but it took only a little cajoling to soothe the little girl’s nerves. It was probably only so easy due to both herself and her mother remaining calm.

Finally, though, Ling Qi felt the awakening qi of her little brother Zhengui and knew that the fireworks show was coming to an end. From the top of the hill, a column of orange and blue fire rose, and molten rock and dirt erupted in a wave, only to stop dead at the boundary set by the totems surrounding the hill’s base.

Her first glimpse of Zhengui was the sinuous shape of Zhen rising in the smoke with a body as thick as a small tree trunk and black scales outlined by faintly glowing molten light. Zhen peered left and right, his flicking tongue looking like little more than a wispy jet of fire. The rest of him emerged shortly thereafter, giant stumpy feet pounding down the dirt and making a ramp for Zhengui to pull the rest of his bulk from the pit. The eyes of his other half were still a bright vibrant green, and flecks of the color had spread to his scales and shell, glimmering in the ash-darkened sun.

However, Ling Qi could not help but notice that Zhengui was a bit smaller than she had expected. The length of his shell was closer to five meters than six, which was the lower range Xuan Shi had indicated. For a moment, she worried that something might be wrong, but then his aura washed over her, healthy, vibrant, and vital, and washed the concern away.

She raised a hand to wave, carefully allowing her own aura to rise for his notice. “Zhengui! Get down here! I brought everyone to see you!”

“Big Sister?” two voices echoed out from the Xuan Wu to Ling Qi’s surprise and the widening of her mother’s eyes. The words were not immaterial. Gui’s voice was a deep rumble now, and Zhen’s a smooth and loud hiss. “Big Sister!”

“Lil turtle?” Biyu whispered in her arms, eyes wide in both fear and wonder. The little girl looked up at Ling Qi then and seemed to take comfort in her smile.

She heard her mother's sharp intake of breath as Zhengui began to move toward them at a pace that was no doubt alarming to a mortal. As stubby as his legs were, his sheer size meant that Zhengui ate up ground quickly. She glanced over in time to see her mother steady herself, even as her hands curled into white-knuckled fists.

“I did it, Big Sister!” Gui announced as he approached, looming large over all of them. His rumbling voice rose briefly, cracking back into a chirp.

“Hmph, dull brother, there are guests,” Zhen hissed haughtily, arching his body over Gui’s shell to peer down at them. “Behave properly.”

Gui blinked, seeming to notice that there were other people present. “Oh! Big Sister brought Grandmother and Lil’ Sis too. Hello, Grandmother. Hello, Lil Sis. Can you understand Gui now?”

Ling Qi was rather glad that she had put up Thousand Rings Unbreaking because her mother looked like she could have been blown away by Gui’s breath at that point. Still, after a moment, she rallied, shooting Ling Qi a look of consternation. Ling Qi might not have specified just how big she meant by “bigger” when describing the situation.

“I can. Congratulations on achieving such a… milestone...? And at such a young age.” Her voice rose in question in the middle.

“Lil’ turtle is big turtle now!” Biyu announced helpfully, her eyes still wide.

Zhengui seemed to puff up at the praise, and Zhen practically preened. “That is right. Thanks to I, Zhen, we broke through very quickly.”

Ling Qi shot Zhen an unimpressed look. No matter how big he was, she wasn’t going to put up with him talking like Cui. Before she could say anything to that effect however, she felt a churning in her dantian, and frost spread across the grass beneath her feet as Hanyi launched herself back into the physical world with a mighty warcry.

“YOU DUMMY!” the little spirit yelled, reforming into the world with her hands on her hips atop the platform that Zhengui had stopped in front of. “You were asleep for, like, forever! How can you call that fast!”

“Huh?” Gui replied cluelessly, looking cross-eyed down his own blunt snout. “Who are… Hanyi?”

“That’s right! You disappeared, and I had to change like this cause… cause…” Hanyi faltered in the middle of her tirade, seeming to curl in on herself. Her final words came out in almost a whisper. “It was lonely, you big idiot.”

Zhengui, both of him, looked to her in alarm, and Ling Qi shook her head rapidly. This wasn’t the place to catch him up on events. She had spoken with Hanyi about this earlier, but well, she couldn’t blame her.

“It was dull brother Gui’s fault,” Zhen hissed.

“Hey! You couldn’t figure out the weird dream either!” Gui cried out in betrayal.

<You know, I worry about that boy sometimes,> Sixiang whispered in amusement, breaking their relative silence.

Ling Qi glanced at her mother, who was taking a moment to collect herself, and down at her sister, who was practically vibrating in excitement. “Oh? Just what kind of dream did you have?” she asked curiously.

Zhen shot Gui a look of horror. “Nothing important, Big Sister. It was just a strange, confusing dream.”

“That’s totally suspicious,” Hanyi said bluntly, narrowing her eyes.

“That sounds kind of important,” Ling Qi added slyly, detecting his embarrassment. “Are you sure…?”

“Ling Qi, did you not say that this was akin to a birthday?” her mother chided. “Perhaps it would be better to save such a conversation for later, after the festivities.”

“Yeah, give the little… big guy a break before you start teasing him,” Sixiang agreed in an amused drawl.

Ling Qi huffed but conceded the point. Teasing was all well and good, but Zhengui had done well. He deserved the presents she had gotten him.

She would probably have to give Zhen his present out of sight though. While Mother had shown a high tolerance so far, watching Zhengui dig into a meal might be too much.

They stayed out there for much of the afternoon, and by the time they returned home, Zhengui was once more snugly stored away in her dantian. His presence certainly strained her qi a great deal more now, but it was a comfort to have him back.

That night, however, she did not return to the mountain. After Biyu had been put to bed, as she had been about to leave, her mother had come to her and asked that she stay and instruct her.

By the time the sun rose the next day, Ling Qingge had awakened. Her cultivation was a fragile thing in need of constant reinforcement, but her mother had taken the first step into the red realm. It seemed like Ling Qi wouldn't be losing her mother any time soon after all.

Threads 29-Siblings 3

That night wouldn’t be the last time she tarried longer at home, Ling Qi promised herself, but for the moment, it would have to do. She would have to change some of her plans and half-formed schedules, but she believed that she could accomplish her goals and spend more time at tasks aside from cultivation. Her liege certainly managed, even if she was starting to strain under the workload.

This reminded Ling Qi that she had never actually asked just what all that paperwork she so often saw Cai Renxiang going through was for or just what it was that took up so much of her time. When she had realized that on her way back up the mountain, Ling Qi felt briefly uncomfortable. Cai Renxiang had never offered to share the information, but Ling Qi had never really asked either. When she thought about it, their relationship was still pretty distant, wasn’t it?

Unfortunately, Ling Qi would not have time to currently act on that realization. Not only was she moving to more advanced lessons under her senior brother in the Scouting Corps in preparation for live exercises next month, but also she had the first of her “tutoring” sessions with Bai Meizhen’s cousin scheduled for the afternoon after said scouting lessons and the evening was set out for cultivation. Plus, if she recalled correctly, Cai Renxiang was going to be busy herself for some time. Cai had taken up some sort of major sect duty, assisting the Core Disciple that had made Ling Qi’s gown with a project.

It seemed that the slowing of cultivation with age was not just a matter of decaying talent and the nature of qi. Staying engaged with the people and the world around her was quite a time sink. Ling Qi couldn’t afford to just play hermit or space out and cultivate whenever it suited her anymore; she had to consider so many other things.

Ling Qi was still contemplating that problem by the time afternoon had rolled around and the time for her first meeting with Bai Xiao Fen had arrived. In her letter confirming the tutoring, she had picked out a mostly barren spot a good distance from the Sect town. It was the site of a clearcutting; the Sect was overseeing an expansion of the fields around the settlement, it seemed. For the moment though, it remained empty, and so it was still good for her purposes.

Ling Qi sat atop a small, stony hillock as she waited for her “junior sister” to arrive, idly playing a contemplative tune on her flute as her thoughts wandered. Sixiang hummed along in her head, and Hanyi was back at her sect lodgings soaking up argent qi at Ling Qi’s upgraded standard vent. Hanyi was frustrated; apparently, her transformation and breakthrough during the escape from Zeqing’s home had left her unable to use some of her channels properly, and it hadn’t cleared up yet. As for Zhengui…

Ling Qi perked up as she felt Xiao Fen enter the range of her senses. The younger girl’s aura had not changed much since their last meeting three months ago, but she had advanced well into the mid stage of the second realm in both forms of cultivation. It was only a few moments later that she caught sight of Xiao Fen picking her way through the rolling stump-strewn landscape at a dignified pace.

Xiao Fen had switched out the basic argent uniform for a new gown, black in color and simple in cut. The second layer of the gown shimmered silver, as did the trailing sash around her waist and the pins and ties in her hair. Like the threads of sharpened metal woven into her braids, Ling Qi could tell that the sash was a weapon too; she could see the faint gleam of needlepoints on its trailing hem.

It seemed impractical, but then again, Ling Qi hit people with concentrated artistic expression, so who was she to judge?

“Hello, Junior Sister!” she called cheerfully, lowering her flute and raising a hand to wave. Senior Brother Ruan was right; being able to say that was fun. “Come on up, and have a seat.”

She watched as Bai Xiao Fen peered up at her from the bottom of the slope with narrowed eyes and then glanced around, seemingly unsettled by something. Ling Qi hid the grin that tried to surface as she stared down at the other girl.

Xiao Fen gave their surroundings one last distrustful glance and then began to ascend the hill. “Greetings, Senior Sister Ling,” she replied with stiff formality. “Shall I assume this… site is a gift?”

“Something like that,” Ling Qi said, keeping her expression straight. “How have you found the Outer Sect so far?”

“Mildly stifling. This place is both too dry and too cold, and my simpering peers are an irritant,” Xiao Fen said, reaching the top of the hill. The girl glanced around briefly before finding a flat spot to kneel like a retainer at attention. Ling Qi raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her own informal seating on a raised boulder. Well, whatever made the girl comfortable.

There was also that reply. “Are you alright, Junior Sister? I don’t really mind, but that is a little rude, isn’t it?”

“Bai Meizhen has asked that I speak plainly in private with her and said that I should treat you with the same respect I do her.” Xiao Fen seemed to twitch uncomfortably at the admission.

This girl was very literal, Ling Qi thought, bringing a pulse of amusement from Sixiang. “You know, it might not be my business, but what exactly is the relationship between you two?” Ling Qi found herself asking

“I am here to serve her. Members of the Xiao branch are raised to devote themselves to a member of the main Bai house. It has been my honor to be selected so early for that duty,” Xiao Fen answered proudly, but Ling Qi could feel a seething ember of discontent at the core of her words. That was the real root of her problem with the Sect, Ling Qi suspected.

Ling Qi had done a little studying on the Bai before this, so she had known the answer. Of course, the history she had read had couched the relationship in terms of a story about the eldest and youngest of the eight daughters of the Bai’s founder, Yao the Fisher. When the eight daughters of Bai had fallen to feuding and civil war, only the youngest sister had stuck with the eldest and supported her rightful claim to clan headship from the very start, and they had decided that their descendants should always be side by side.

Ling Qi had felt that history didn’t seem like that was enough for the sense of honest devotion she got from Xiao Fen whenever Meizhen’s name came up. She had expected there to be something more between the two like their mothers being friends, or that they were childhood playmates, or… something.

“It might not be my place to say, but if you really want to serve Meizhen well, duty won’t be enough, I think. There’s more to family than that.”

Xiao Fen gave her a singularly unimpressed look. “You are right. It is not your place. Even if my cousin thinks so highly of you, what can you know…?”

“I know Meizhen is a lonely person, and she closes others out easily,” Ling Qi interrupted bluntly, her aura stirring as she spoke. “I know that her mother is gone, and for whatever reason, she doesn’t interact much with her father. When our time in the Sect ends, she’s going to need someone to support her, and I’m not talking about cultivation or combat.”

Xiao Fen stared at her for several long seconds, and Ling QI could practically see the twin motivations of pride in her clan and obedience to Meizhen’s words warring in her head. “I will take your advice into account, Senior Sister,” she finally said, her voice dull.

“I’m not saying that your clan is wrong or mistaken, or even that you’re performing your role badly. I don’t even know you,” Ling Qi continued, hoping that she wasn’t speaking in vain. “Just think about why she asked you to speak plainly to her, you know? Meizhen needs friends more than she needs a servant.”

Xiao Fen regarded her silently again, some of the indignation slipping away. “I understand your intentions, Senior Sister,” she said, briefly dipping her head.

Ling Qi let out a sigh of relief and pressed on. “Any luck on following our advice?”

Bai Xiao Fen looked faintly shamed. “There were several… setbacks. However, my current sparring partner did not crumble under the cultivation regime I set him after I informed him of our friendship. I believe I have acquired an acceptable friend.”

Ling Qi stared at her blanky, but it was Sixiang who gave voice to her thoughts.

“... There are so many things going on between those words, I’m not sure where to start,” the spirit said dryly.

“That is… good,” Ling Qi said, trying to find a polite way to ask her question. “What is your friend like?” she finally settled on asking.

Xiao Fen considered the question “Liu Xin is the son of a mortal cobbler from the Lower Rootways of Xiangmen before his talent was discovered. He is appropriately ruthless in combat, and neither cried when struck in the groin or other pain centers nor hesitated to attempt similar effective techniques on me.” Here, the younger girl paused again. “I find his wit and capacity for cutting retorts in the face of unearned pride amusing. He enjoys a light White Branch Tea.”

Ling Qi took a deep breath in and then let it out. She wasn’t going to judge. Still, a commoner from the capital of Emerald Seas. She had to wonder what it was like in a place that had so much cultivator presence. “Well, I’m glad that’s coming along,” she said with a nod. “How are things with the other matter?”

“My intelligence is somewhat limited given the division between first years and the older years, but it appears that Gan Guangli has organized a successful faction from the remains of your liege’s project. There is a lesser Jin scion among my peers, as well as several -” The younger girl faught down a sneer. “- ‘nobles’ from the Western Territories. The information I have so far is here.”

Ling Qi accepted the tightly rolled scroll that the other girl offered, and upon drawing it into her ring, she drew a storage ring from between the layers of her gown. “Here. Lady Cai has put together dossiers on all the first year disciples from Emerald Seas and the plans to convince them to cooperate or stay on the sidelines. There is also a tidy supply of cultivation resources in here for Gan Guangli, as well as any lower realms he wants to dole them out to. You can tell him that she’ll have some talismans ready for next month too.”

Xiao Fen nodded once sharply, accepting the ring. “I see. And our… tutoring?”

“We can get started now,” Ling Qi said lightly before slapping the stone she was sitting on. “Up you go, little brother. Nap time is over.”

Ling Qi very carefully did not grin or otherwise react to the quickly choked off shriek of surprise that rose from Xiao Fen’s lips as the entire hillock heaved upward, dust and stone falling away to reveal her little brother.

Zhen slithered free of their shell to loom over the both of them. “Big Sister is cruel, making us wait so long, then accusing us of napping. I had to put up with foolish Gui’s humming for an hour.”

“I’m only teasing. Thanks for playing along, little brother,” Ling Qi said lightly, resting her hand on Zhen’s burning hot scales. She glanced over at Xiao Fen, who was doing her best to look wholly unruffled. “Ah, right, Xiao Fen, this is Zhengui. He’s not a cultivation site, but he will be taking us to one.” She had cleared it with Gu Xiulan already, but the site that Gu Yanmei had shared with Xiulan last year was their destination.

Xiao Fen shot her a look of frustrated irritation. “This Xiao Fen greets the honorable… Zhengui.” It looked like saying the name physically hurt her. Ling Qi thought that she really needed to lighten up. “Senior Sister, what are your plans?”

“I thought I would follow Elder Jiao’s example,” Ling Qi mused as they began to move. They would get running soon, but for now, there was no point in returning Zhengui to her dantian. “So we’ll start with some hide and seek in the caves at the site, and then, I’ll assign you some tasks. It might not be my best skill anymore, but I am pretty good at stealth still.”

Yes, inflicting Elder Jiao’s lessons on someone else, insofar as she could, would certainly be appropriate tutoring. After all, she was passing on the wisdom of a Sect elder!

Interlude: The Cobbler and the Viper

Liu Xin fled through the woods, his robes flapping in the wind.

He heard the snap of a twig to his right and the flash of steel. Immediately, he dipped his hand into a sewn on pocket and flung out the contents, channeling a trickle of qi. The fine grained sand that he had flung hissed white hot, the cloud expanding to engulf the boy that had come bounding out from the trees.

The boy howled, the sword dropping from his hands as he clawed at his face, and Liu Xin darted in, fist already drawn back for a punch. The heated grit in the air stung his skin but didn’t burn. One hard jab, strike under the ribs, push through. When he stumbled, strike the knee. The boy toppled over, and Liu Xin fled past him.

It was a good thing that even before the Ministry had come, he had learned to fight. The rootways were a rough place; you had to be a little rough to get by. Liu Xin was more than a little rough. He bounded over a fallen log, the strength of cultivation in his legs launching him a good three meters before his feet touched the forest floor.

He’d had to get rougher in the last year after his shitty old man had caught him experimenting with Tanner Shou’s son and disowned him. Liu Xin’s tight expression curled into a scowl as he took a sharp left away from the sound of crashing feet and tearing underbrush.

Dammit! This was all because he couldn’t control his mouth. He’d heard that sluggard Hou Jin complaining about how unfair the elders were, and a comment had just slipped out.

Hou Jin had a lot of money and just as many ‘friends.’

His feet beat against the forest loam, and he felt something snatch at his ankle. Running as he was, he could only curse as he saw the rootlet that had curled around his ankle, sparking with qi. He rolled as he hit the ground, managing not to land flat on his face but only just. Brambles tore at his robe and his shoulder cracked against a tree trunk before he sprang to his feet.

They had him surrounded. He counted eight of them, including Hou Jin himself. He scanned his surroundings, noting the knives, swords, and clubs readied in their hands. One of these clowns, he could take, maybe even two or three. He hadn’t been slacking off in the elder’s lessons after all. But eight was too many. Maybe he could break to the left…

“Such a desperate little rat.” Hou Jin was red faced, his cheeks quivering with outrage and exertion, but the fatty still walked with a swagger that set Liu Xin’s teeth on edge. “Your beating is going to be so much worse now. You should have known your place and accepted your punishment.”

That earned some dark chuckles from his thugs, and Liu Xin glanced around, the rough bark of the tree at his back scraping against his robe. Hou Jin had demanded his month's spirit stones for the insult. As if the damn silk pants needed them.

“Right, right, how foolish for this humble peasant to ignore your lordship’s kindness,” he said dryly. His eyes darted back and forth trying to determine which of the thugs would go down the easiest. He still had one more pouch of burning sand.

The fucker didn’t even acknowledge his sarcasm, merely cracking his knuckles threateningly. “Indeed. You should have known better than to cross this young lord,” he sniffed. “So give thanks for the lesson.”

Liu Xin bared his teeth. He had already hidden the stones and the pills he’d scavenged. “If Sir Piggy is so great, I don’t see why we need the audience,” he sneered.

Stars exploded in his vision, and his head cracked against the back of the tree. Liu Xin tasted blood in his mouth. Hou Jin looked down at the flecks of blood on his knuckles in disdain. Liu Xin hadn’t even managed to react.

It wasn’t fucking fair. This whining fastass had started so far ahead, and he dared complain about their lessons?

“Taking out the trash is what servants are for, fool,” Hou Jin said coldly. One of the thugs raised his club. They wouldn’t kill him, but this was going to suck all the same. It was now or never. Liu Xin’s hand dipped into his pocket and…

Facing as they were, only Liu Xin saw the strip of shadow peel away from the tree.

Everyone heard the horrifying noise as the arm of the boy raising the club jerked to the side and fell limp at his side, dislocated and useless. His startled scream had the others wheeling. A black blur streaked across a disciple’s face, deforming his nose and sending teeth flying. A girl with a knife stabbed out at the blur, and her wrist bent backward with a hideous crack. The tallest of the thugs, a boy half again Liu Xin’s height, went down with a falsetto scream as a dainty knee drove three times into his groin, ending with a sickening pop.

“W-who dares!” Hou Jin bellowed, even as a jeweled sword appeared in his hands, the shimmer of a defensive art crackling in the air.

The blur resolved, and Liu Xin stared blankly at the slender girl standing there in the middle of the four sobbing disciples. Her robe was plain and black, only the silver lining marking her as a disciple. Her skin was unearthly pale, but for the gleaming dark scales that marked her brow, and her long hair was a lustrous black.

Her pale yellow eyes fell on him, and Liu Xin swallowed hard.

He had met this girl before. She was part of the elder’s advanced lessons, and they had been paired for sparring several times. She was a cruel and vicious fighter, and rumor had it she was part snake, a member of some powerful family from another province. He was always left on the ground after their spars, barely able to walk. But that hadn’t been unusual early on. She at least gave real pointers. He got the feeling she didn’t look down on him more than anyone else either.

“Liu Xin, you are late for tea.” Her voice was cold and brusque without a hint of emotion.

But for the groans of the wounded, a pin drop could have been heard in the clearing. Ah, that was right. Yesterday, she had approached him and stated that they were going to take tea together. He’d found it bizarre, and he’d kind of thought he was being pranked by an illusion, but today's events had put it out of his head.

“Excuse me! What do you think you are doing, assaulting us like this?! You cannot expect to just…” Hou Jin began to snarl.

Her eyes flicked in his direction, and the words died in Hou Jin’s throat, his face going a blotchy red and white. “Hou Jin, fifth son of the fourth son of the Head of Clan Hou, Counts of the Eighth Peak in the Celestial Peaks. Prospects: mediocre. Status: Irrelevant. Be silent when your betters are speaking.”

Liu Xin felt laughter bubbling in his throat as Hou Jin sputtered and the remaining disciples milled in confusion and fear. “I was a little held up.”

“I see this. I will forgive your slight given the circumstances. You will improve yourself in the future,” Xiao Fen said seriously. “Come. I will not extend our reservation again.”

“Lady Xiao -” Hou Jin began again.

Xiao Fen’s form blurred, and his words cut out into a wet gurgle as her tiny fist buried itself in his throat. Hou Jin fell to his knees, gagging violently as the veins on his neck blackened and crackling frost spread across his skin.

“I said ‘be silent,’ trash. It was not a request,” Xiao Fen said harshly. She turned without a further word to leave.

Liu Xin stood straight and took a step to follow her. None of Hou Jin’s friends moved to stop him. He met the closest boy’s eyes, and it was the other disciple who lowered his head. He hurried to catch up to Xiao Fen.

“Thank you for the assist,” Liu Xin said carefully, as he caught up, eying her warily.

“Thanks are unnecessary. Continue cultivating so that you do not require assistance against such worthless individuals again,” Xiao Fen replied.

Liu Xin nodded, his thoughts spinning as he tried to figure out just what the hell was going on. He hit upon an idea, a very worrying one. He wondered if his mouth was going to get him beaten anyway. “Just, uh, so you know. I’m not inclined to women.” He’d heard noblewomen sometimes did things like that, and however strong Xiao Fen was, he didn’t intend to be anyone’s toy.

"Of course outsider nobles would be so disgusting," Xiao Fen said with contempt. Her eyes turned toward him, and Liu Xin flinched. “As a Xiao, I have no use for carnal relations outside reproduction,” she said without a hint of embarrassment.

“Oh, uh, that’s good,” Liu Xin said awkwardly as they walked through the forest. “So… why?”

“My Mistress ordered that I make a friend,” Xiao Fen said matter-of-factly. “Having reviewed the disciples present this year, I have determined that you will be my friend. Your battle instinct and drive are admirable.”

“Thanks, you’ve got a mean jab,” Liu Xin said blankly, processing the crazy girl's words. “So you mauled a comital scion because I’m your friend?”

“I silenced trash because he did not know his place,” Xiao Fen answered. “I stepped into the situation because you are my friend. Having spoken with my Mistress on the subject, I determined that this was correct action. Do you believe I erred?”

She was completely nuts, Liu Xin thought faintly. “N-no, friends are supposed to help each other out.”

“Very good,” Xiao Fen said, finally showing an emotion, a touch of satisfaction showing in the upward quirk of her lips. “Now, tea. It is necessary for friends to share their non-vital interests.”

“Right,” Liu Xin said dizzily as they stepped out of the woods. Just what had he gotten himself into?

Bonus: Macabre

Li Suyin hummed tunelessly as the bone under her fingers shifted like wax. The ribs flattened and widened, shifting from the contours of a quadruped to a biped. The rest of the horse skeleton she was working on lay neatly across her table, carefully organized for transformation and reassembly. Three more like it were stacked in the crates beneath the table, courtesy of the stablemaster of the town. He was such a kind man, Li Suyin thought, providing her with the remains without charge. She would have to see about crafting a gift when her project was done.

She pressed her thumb against the sternum of the ribs, smoothing away the last imperfections, and turned her eyes toward the spinal column. Already molded into bipedal shape, it lay split open vertically across her workbench, its internals now clean and dry, stripped of nerve tissue and emptied of marrow.

Li Suyin snapped her fingers, and the hammocks of webbing which hung overhead twitched. A steel etching stylus descended into her grasp on a narrow thread of webbing. Tucking her hair behind her ear as she bent low to begin carving the first formation symbols into the bone, Li Suyin said, “Prepare extracts seven, twelve, and sixteen please.”

“Yes, Miss Li,” whispered the tinny voice of her companion. A many legged shadow skittered across the table as Zhenli’s body passed in front of the lantern, scurrying for the supply cabinets.

A long moment passed, and Li Suyin glanced up. “Zhenli?”

The cat-sized spider had paused above the cabinet, three smoked glass vials held to her abdomen with two legs. A full body twitch traveled through her legs as the spider ducked her head. “Apologies, Miss Li. Senior Bao is at the door.”

Li Suyin blinked in surprise. Already? She had not been expecting her senior sister for several hours yet. This was highly unusual. Bao Qingling was extremely punctual. “Set the extracts on the work table then, Zhenli. You can begin etching the tertiary formations while I am out.”

Zhenli murmured a quiet agreement as Li Suyin set her tools down. She was glad that her spirit was so dutiful and neat; it made her projects go so much faster to have such a helper.

Leaving her main workshop behind, Li Suyin approached the front door of her sect dwelling and opened the door, peering out curiously. “Welcome to my home, Senior Sister. Did something happen? Our meeting was not scheduled for two hours yet.”

Bao Qingling shook her head briskly. She was still wearing her work clothing with its thick apron and leather gloves. The crystal goggles that covered her eyes in the lab hung loosely around her neck. “Unfortunately, I have a meeting I cannot refuse. It was very sudden,” Bao Qingling said dully. “My apologies for interrupting your own work. It was my assumption that you would prefer this to cancelation.”

“Of course. Come in,” Li Suyin said, stepping aside to give her room. There was no point in asking who had forced a meeting on her. If Senior Sister intended to tell her, she already would have. “Thank you for coming out despite the problem. There is a project I require your advice on before I move to the next step, so a delay would be problematic…”

“Understandable,” Bao Qingling grunted, stepping past her. Her teacher was always difficult to read, but her words lacked that extra cutting edge that indicated her temper. The upcoming meeting must not be bad then. “Which workshop?”

“The basement workshop,” Li Suyin said, easily falling back into old habits. There was no need for extra words with Bao Qingling.

“Lu Wei’s work has held up?” Bao Qingling asked as they began to make their way down the hall.

“Yes, Senior Sister. Thank you for your recommendation.” She was glad that the elders had given her special dispensation to add to her dwelling in light of her projects, even if the funding had come out of her own reserves.

Bao Qingling made an affirmative sound in the back of her throat as they reached the end of the hallway where she had installed the trapdoor. It was a heavy thing cast from blood-wrought iron, much like the lining in the basement’s walls. The sealing effect was really very good. Tapping her foot on the floor, the trapdoor rose of its own accord, revealing the narrow black tunnel that descended into the bedrock of the mountain.

Her mentor cocked her head to the side. “No climbing apparatus?”

“I did not see the point,” Li Suyin said. “The walls are trapped of course, and the landing is keyed to only myself and four others.”

Bao Qingling made a noise of approval and stepped out into the hole, vanishing into darkness. Li Suyin smiled, pleased at her approval, and followed after.

The basement workshop was lit with pale green light and filled with the sound of bubbling liquid. Its walls were damp, approximating the humidity of the fungal forests she had found below. Spread across the far wall was the carefully sketched diagram of the anatomy of the beetle creature Ling Qi had helped her harvest, done from memory and aided by her vivisection of one of the captured embryos. Across the work table set against the right wall were the remains in various states of cataloguing and processing.

Her actual project, however, floated in a bubbling tube roughly one and a half meters wide and tall enough to reach from floor to ceiling. It was one of the beetle beasts, stripped carefully from its egg without harming the partially developed creature. Bubbles periodically emerged from the spiracles on its side, rising through the faintly glowing medical solution and sending the light dancing.

Bao Qingling observed this all without expression as Li Suyin nervously took up a place beside her. “You see…”

“You’re attempting to modify the beast into something more tractable.” Bao Qingling said bluntly.

As expected of her senior sister, Li Suyin thought. “Yes, I want to modify and raise it myself for loyalty, but, um, I’m not entirely certain where this sort of spiritual surgery falls—legally, that is.” Li Suyin wrung her hands, voice shrinking with each word. “I’ve looked such things up, but the laws are vague on the matter of beasts.”

Spiritual modification was a restricted subject outside of certain common procedures necessary for cultivation, and performing such operations on any person other than yourself required approval and the presence of an official of the Ministry of Integrity. “Could you guide me on the matter, Senior Sister?”

The older girl was silent for several long moments. “Show me your plans. I doubt the elders would allow you to have gotten this far if it was a legal problem, but you need to watch out for tripping over ‘polite’—” Bao Qingling pronounced the word with disgust “—sensibilities.”

Li Suyin breathed a sigh of relief. She was very much looking forward to this project.

Threads 30 Adventures 1

It was a little unsettling, Ling Qi found, to be looking at herself from multiple angles. To study and analyze her own appearance and aura with supernatural precision. To see the hairs that were out of place, the imperfections in the subtle applications of her cosmetics, and the unsteadiness and minute errors in the flows of her qi.

Yet turning those lines of visions outward, she couldn’t help but feel that it - and the work she had put in to clear some meridians for the art - was worth it. The silent broken stones of the dream grove stood all around, and she knew them perfectly. If she had to fight here, she was certain that she could navigate it exactly and could read the way the flow of natural qi here would affect her techniques or allow her to hide her own aura in plain sight, completely without thought.

She understood Xin’s words to her better now. This was the basest root of personal divination, a perfect analysis of her immediate surroundings, such that it became obvious what would occur in the moments to come. Of course, she was alone, and so it was easy to feel like she had mastered the techniques of the Curious Diviner’s Eye art, but despite her prodigious progress in nearly mastering the art in a single week, she knew that the art was only the introduction to divination.

She could know which leaf would fall next from the tree to her right with decent accuracy, but if she tried to predict the next action of the sparrow perched in its branches… Well, her success rate was still abysmal.

“Big Sister, are you done sitting around playing with lights yet?” One of her points of vision swiveled to see Hanyi sitting atop a crumbling stump of a wall, kicking her legs in irritation. Ling Qi could not help but notice the snarls in her qi, clogging the meridians in her body related to motion and movement. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be going to meet that weird guy now.”

Ling Qi blinked, and the ‘eye’ constructs of her new art vanished in glittering light, collapsing her vision back to a single perspective. “Is it that late already?” she asked, squinting up at the cloudy sky.

“It’s been hours,” Hanyi said with the sort of put-upon exasperation that only the young could manage.

Ling Qi grimaced. She had only shifted her cultivation plans to prioritize the Curious Diviner’s Eye art because of Xuan Shi’s invitation in the first place; it would be embarrassing to miss her appointment because of her cultivation. She had been quite surprised a few nights ago to find the odd boy on her doorstep with a request, but he had helped her enough in the last year that she wasn’t going to refuse, even if the thing he wanted assistance with wasn’t an apparent trial site.

“We should get moving then,” Ling Qi said. “Thank you, Hanyi.”

“Of course,” the young girl preened at her thanks. “You’re gonna have to wake up that big doofus though.”

“What happened to Zhengui?” Ling Qi asked curiously.

“He ate and fell asleep,” Hanyi huffed. “See if I sing a bunch of deer to him again,” she grumbled darkly as she hopped off the wall to lead the way.

Ling Qi chuckled. Of course it was something like that. With a thought, she gave Sixiang a mental nudge to stir them from their own cultivation. She got a blurry sort of response, something like “five more minutes” if translated into words. Ling Qi let out a huff. There were some things she would rather Sixiang not pick up from her.

***

With her spirits gathered up, she soon reached the place where Xuan Shi had asked her to meet him, near a ruined old road that wound a ways into the mountains. When she arrived, she found Xuan Shi leaning against one of the weathered distance markers, paging through a thin volume.

“I hope I did not make you wait long,” Ling Qi said as she approached. She had chosen to travel on the ground to preserve qi and to make it easier for Hanyi to skip off and follow her for a while when she got tired of bantering with Zhengui in her head.

The book snapped shut in his hands, and Xuan Shi straightened up, giving her a nod of greeting. “The baroness did not delay unduly,” he replied. “This one thanks you for your agreement.”

“There is no need to call me that,” Ling Qi chided. “And I would hardly refuse a request like this. How did you find this place anyway?”

Xuan Shi glanced to the side, tugging his hat down to cover his eyes. “... Study of a text may reveal many hidden things.”

<How evasive,> Sixiang mused.

Ling Qi narrowed her eyes, thinking back to the many times she had seen Xuan Shi in the Outer Sect archives. “Just what sort of text?” Ling Qi asked. “I might need to start reading more.”

“This one discovered a cipher within a certain series of novels. The final volume was filed among the shelves of the Inner Sect,” Xuan Shi answered after a moment.

“Huh. I never would have guessed,” she said, bemused. “Do you mean those books I saw you reading in the archive last year? Why would they have a cipher leading to a place here?”

“In the days before the Great Sects, the author resided here when not voyaging himself.” She could detect a hint of excitement in the boy’s tone as he began to speak on the subject. “This one sought out placement in this Sect for that purpose.”

“So you figured out the cipher before you ever came here?” she asked. She supposed that Xuan Shi really was a smart guy.

“Yes. Though the goal remained shrouded, the path, of course, intrigued this one,” Xuan Shi agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“You’re a bad liar, mister,” Hanyi said, emerging from the trees behind Ling Qi. She then shot Ling Qi a dirty look. “Big Sister is mean, walking so fast on her stupid long legs.”

Ling Qi shot her a cheeky grin, which earned her a frustrated huff, but in her head, Zhengui said suspiciously, <Yeah, why is he lying? Big Sister, you should be careful.>

Ling Qi rather doubted it was a dangerous lie, and she really did need to look into why Zhengui always seemed so snappish around Xuan Shi. However, Hanyi wasn’t wrong. She gave Xuan Shi an expectant look all the same.

He sighed. “This one merely wished to read the final two volumes, which were archived within the Sect alone.”

That was kind of a silly reason, but it was hardly the worst reason ever. Even if it was weird to imagine caring so much about a book as to travel all the way across the Empire to get at it.

“We had better get going then,” she said instead of voicing her thoughts

“Indeed,” he said, seeming relieved. “Adventure awaits.”

The odd boy’s barely concealed eagerness was kind of infectious.

***

The path was not a long one.

Ling Qi followed Xuan Shi down the winding remains of the ruined road into a tiny vale between two large peaks. The road soon came to run beside a tiny stream which bore the signs of having been a greater flow in the past. At the bottom of the vale, the road reached its end in a crumbling structure of stone.

At a first glance, Ling Qi had been unimpressed, thinking the old ruin to be their destination, but it quickly became clear that it wasn’t. Old but well maintained flows of qi radiated through earth and stone, forming the shapes of a complex array that once she noticed, she could not fail to see running through the entire vale.

“So, what’s the trick?” Ling Qi asked as they strode into a crumbling hall, the faint light of afternoon streaming through the holes in the rooftop. Xuan Shi still seemed confident and showed no sign of needing aid, so she restrained herself from using techniques for now, but she was curious as to what this huge array could be for.

“The appearance of destitution deflects avarice, but the ruin is merely the door,” Xuan Shi explained, words punctuated by the tapping of his staff on stone.

As they reached the end of the hall, he swept the staff out and tapped a handful of stones in sequence, and the wall faded away before her eyes, the thick qi of earth and stone dispersing and transforming into the qi of air and wind. Beyond lay a flight of stairs that, if the building was as it appeared, would have led up into open air.

Mounting the stairs, they came instead to a high ceilinged room, although a great skylight in its center allowed light to enter. Here, the floor was paved with incongruously well maintained tiling, the jade gleaming as if it had been newly placed. For all their polish though, the tiles were arranged chaotically without any thought for aesthetics. Ling Qi narrowed her eyes, reading the lingering qi in the stone.

“It’s a big puzzle,” Ling Qi said, bemused. The floor was grooved such that the tiles could be slid around into new positions using two empty tiles, but what was the goal?

“One which this one knows the solution to and has completed before,” Xuan Shi agreed. “The colors present are those of the voyaging hero’s ship. The way does not remain open however. Miss Ling, this one will have to ask that you follow instruction.”

<I think I like whoever built this place,> Sixiang said, amused.

“Ling Qi is fine,” she said absently. “Alright, just tell me what to do.” It would take much longer with only one person sliding tiles.

With Xuan Shi already knowing the solution, it didn’t take too long to move the tiles, making them form, instead of a chaotic mess, a striped pattern with an eight-pointed white star at its center. The moment the last tile clicked into place, a flash of qi ran through the puzzle and mist boiled up from the star in a roiling column only to quickly slow and flow into a coherent shape. Stairs formed of cloud and mist now rose in the center of the room, rising up to the skylight.

“Is there any reason why we couldn’t have just flown up there?” Ling Qi asked.

Xuan Shi gave her a mildly aggrieved look. “Without the stair, you would only exit the ruin.”

<Tch, how annoying,> Hanyi grumbled in her head.

<Big Sister, we won’t be able to help you in the sky,> Zhengui added worriedly.

If need be, she could always ride Zhengui back to earth, she thought, which seemed to mollify him as she began to mount the stairs beside Xuan Shi. The cloud felt odd. It was as solid as stone but also slightly springy and smooth as silk. As they passed through the skylight, Ling Qi found herself in a brightly lit room seemingly carved from clouds as well. Before them was a stone gate, and in its center, rather than a latch or a lock, was the symbol of Yin and Yang with circular arrays the size of a hand where the small circles of color would normally be.

“This is why you invited me, huh?” Ling Qi asked.

“The way will open only for a man and a woman together,” Xuan Shi agreed, stepping toward the gate. “This one does not understand the purpose of such a lock, but perhaps it will be explained beyond.”

Ling Qi eyed the symbol, briefly scanning it for any hostile-seeming characters, but it seemed like a fairly standard locking formation, just with a weird key condition. She saw no connecting characters that might set off some other effect, and she was fairly sure Xuan Shi would have already checked more carefully than she could.

Stepping forward, Ling Qi raised her hand and placed it in the array on the Yin side of the formation, while Xuan Shi did the same with the Yang side. The arrays lit up as they both laid their palms flat against the gate, and then, with a grinding groan, the gates opened inward.

Threads 31-Adventures 2

“Incredible,” Xuan Shi breathed, stepping across the threshold from cloud to stone.

Ling Qi was not sure she would go that far, but it was pretty impressive. Inside the doors was a long pillared hall like a grand temple with a thick red carpet leading up its center. The only light in the room came from the pale glow of shimmering walls of elemental qi that blocked access to the rear of the room. There were eight of the things, and though each one was partially translucent, together, they worked to block her sight and other senses from examining the rear of the room. All she could see was the blurry silhouette of a large, vaguely humanoid shape.

She frowned as she followed Xuan Shi in, examining the area for a way forward. The barriers stretched from pillar to pillar, and access to the “halls” on either side was blocked by iron gates that stretched to the ceiling. While she didn’t care for her chances of going through the crackling wall of semi-solid that made up the first barrier, it seemed like the iron gates might be relatively easy for her to bypass. Of course, that itself might be a trap.

“What do you think?” Ling Qi asked.

<Oh! We could come out and knock the pillars over!> Zhengui answered excitedly.

<You’d knock the whole building down, you doof,> Hanyi responded, giving the impression of rolling her eyes with naught but her tone.

“Reality and script have merged here. Without doubt, we stand within the sealed temple, the final hurdle of the Temple of Storms,” Xuan Shi mused aloud.

“What?” Sixiang asked, sounding amused.

“What?” Ling Qi asked in a rather less enthused tone.

Xuan Shi glanced over at her and tugged his hat down, further shading his eyes. “The author’s words described such a place in his first novel.”

Well, if she took the assumption that the author or a dedicated reader had built this place, she supposed that wasn’t too strange. “What happened in the book then?” Ling Qi asked.

Xuan Shi paused, as if deliberating on something. “This one will keep explanations short. The hero sought a sealed ship within a temple such as this. He reached this place together with the Storm Sorceress Hotene, who intended to take the ship for herself, but in the end, the trials brought them together, and they left the isle together on the ship.”

<Well, obviously,> Hanyi huffed. <Who would just take a dumb boat when you could take the guy too?>

Leaving Hanyi’s comment aside, Ling Qi raised an eyebrow. “What did they face though?”

Xuan Shi considered her question. “This one does not expect the exact details to match. The words were written for the benefit of those who had not yet drunk from the well of the world, as we have. With talents such as ours, the trials of trust and betrayal which they faced would be all too easy to bypass. However, the statue will likely still bring battle upon us.”

Ling Qi squinted at the shadowy figure hidden behind the barriers. “Fair enough. Want me to scout out the ‘trials’ then?”

“It would be appreciated,” he replied, dipping his head. “Allow this one to study the function of the barriers and if they might be pierced.”

Ling Qi nodded. That seemed like a plan. She left Xuan Shi to contemplate the scintillating wall of lightning and headed to the left side of the room to examine the iron gate there. On her way, she paused near the pillar, and after a moment's thought, she let darkness flow through her channels.

That done, she carefully reached a finger into the stone pillar and recoiled at the sharp shock. Ling Qi clicked her tongue. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple.

<Hah. Guess the creator wasn’t a fan of that kind of boring solution, huh?> Sixiang asked, still amused.

<We could just knock down one pillar,> Zhengui grumbled sullenly.

Ling Qi just shook her head in amusement at the byplay. Reaching the gate, she closed her eyes and breathed out, letting the misty, malleable qi of water and moon well up behind her eyes. A moment later, she opened them, and three little bobbing white lights shimmered into existence and slipped through the bars of the gate.

The narrow stone hallway that she found beyond was unlit and unmarked by any decor. Studying its walls, Ling Qi tried first slipping an eye through the outer wall, and for a moment, Ling Qi glimpsed the open blue sky before a nauseous wrenching sensation made her vision swim and the point of view blink out as if she had suddenly moved it out of range.

She supposed this must be a sealed space then. With that in mind, she sent the other two lights bobbing along to examine the rest of the hallway. Sure enough, the walls were covered in arrays, too dense and layered for her to do more than guess at their functions. Letting her eyes gleam silver with the increased flow of qi, Ling Qi saw barriers, illusions, paralysis and more lining the unassuming stone walls in a dense web. She could also see, standing out from the rest, arrays that joined the traps here to the hallway on the right side.

Ling Qi frowned and let the lights blink out, just as an array activated, threads of qi spearing out to shred the fading remains of her wisps. A check on the right side of the room turned up much the same, an interlinked trap-lined hall that Ling Qi was not totally confident that she could bypass.

With her task done, she returned to the middle of the hall where Xuan Shi stood, still as stone, examining the barrier. “The halls look like a slog, even if they're the intended path,” she said bluntly. “We can probably get through between the two of us, but… any luck for you?”

“Perhaps. This one will require your assistance, however,” Xuan Shi said, seeming faintly disappointed. His staff disappeared with a faint ring, and in its place, a pair of iron rods, more like batons really, appeared with inscribed leather wrapping their handles. Their tips narrowed to blunt points.

Ling Qi looked at the one which he handed her, examining the few visible markings. It was a pretty masterfully made talisman. Some kind of anti-lightning effect? “And what do I do with this?”

“Place the tips together,” Xuan Shi said sedately, holding his own baton out. “Keep it so, and then press it to the barrier.”

Curious, Ling Qi did so, following along in unison as he thrust the metal into the wall of lightning. It hissed, sparked, and snarled around the intruding material, but no shock reached her fingers.

“And now, apart.” Xuan Shi drew his to one side, and Ling Qi pulled hers the opposite way.

The barrier parted like a curtain, sparking ragged edges snapping out little arcs of electricity across the gap that they had made, but it remained open all the same. She shared a look with Xuan Shi, and then as one, they stepped through, turning as they did to maintain the batons’ positions until they were through and the barrier could snap shut behind them.

“That’s one,” Ling Qi said brightly. “You made this for Ji Rong, I am guessing,” she said, handing the talisman back.

“The wrath of heaven is better diverted than blocked,” Xuan Shi agreed. “This next obstacle may prove more difficult however.”

Ling Qi looked ahead to the shimmering wall of turquoise qi. It was the concept of water, endless flowing motion that would strip away whatever touched it like the sea wearing away a stone.

... Yet it was the motion which gave it power. Ling Qi smiled to herself, and with a thought, she nudged Hanyi, who gave the impression of grinning as well as she formed in a swirl of frost at Ling Qi’s side.

“I think I have this one,” Ling Qi said lightly.

Together with Hanyi, she sang, and a wide section of the churning water qi began to slow and still, becoming solid and brittle. The frozen section was shrinking at the edges even as it formed, wearing away and melting back into its base state. Still, it gave a long enough window of opportunity for Xuan Shi to catch on, lower his shoulder, and bash his way through the now brittle barrier, leaving an opening for Ling Qi and Hanyi to slip through after.

“And thus, the second passes,” Xuan Shi mused, dusting the frost off his robe. “A thought occurs, however. Though this method may be the simplest, a flaw may exist.”

Ling Qi frowned, examining the next barrier, a shimmering surface that reflected her own face like a lake on a clear day.

<I think I’ve got this one. Worry about what Xuan is saying,> Sixiang murmured, peering out through Ling Qi’s eyes. At her side, Hanyi made faces at her distorted reflection.

<Stupid, tiny spaces,> Zhengui grumbled.

“What’s the problem?” Ling Qi asked, looking Xuan’s way.

“In this sequence, the trials lead not only to treasure and trust, but also the key to the guardian’s defeat,” Xuan Shi explained. “And also, does this task not feel too easy?”

Ling Qi did have to admit that even when she had looked at the trapped hallways, she hadn’t seen a single thing that was genuinely deadly, and the barriers did seem simple. It made her wonder if they were missing something. On the other hand, it wasn’t as if everything discovered had its challenges tailored to an appropriate difficulty.

“I think we’re doing fine so far,” Ling Qi said. She gave Xuan Shi a sidelong look. “Are you regretting not following the heroes’ path here?”

She caught the signs of a frown, despite his high collar. “Nay. We are not they, and this one would not presume.” He shook his head. “All things aside, it would be best to test this one's creations in battle.”

“Did you not do that in your challenge? You made a pretty high jump last month,” Ling Qi noted.

“It was a test of creation, not war,” Xuan Shi answered. “The qi of the firmament is more my realm. Do you believe the lake is yours?”

“Not hers, but mine,” Sixiang said aloud. “Think you two could hold hands for a second?”

Ling Qi narrowed her eyes. <Sixiang, what are you planning?>

<Oh, just gonna try something a little new to get through this barrier,> Sixiang replied innocently. <Need you two close together though.>

Ling Qi shared a look with Xuan Shi, who looked bemused. “Please don’t mind them,” Ling Qi said. “Hanyi, come here please.”

“... Very well,” Xuan Shi said.

She stepped closer to Xuan Shi’s side as Hanyi returned to her dantian. While she still didn’t like cramming herself in close with someone else, this would be fine for a moment. She caught the shorter boy’s sleeve in her hand as Sixiang spread their qi through the air around them.

“Aaaaand forward!” Sixiang announced cheerfully. They stepped forward together, and the rippling lake qi engulfed them, only for its shimmering, distracting light to refract and scatter across the mist of moon qi saturating the air around them. She felt Sixiang straining in her head, letting out continual pulses of dispelling qi as they moved through the barrier, but their passage was swift.

<Oof. Think I need more practice with that before it’ll be battle ready,> Sixiang whispered, sounding drained.

“Is your companion well?” Xuan Shi asked as they faced down the next barrier, a thing of screaming, tearing wind.

“Just tired,” Ling Qi replied. “Now…”

Her words were interrupted as the room went dark, every barrier snapping off at once. While the lighting meant nothing to her, the rumbling groan of stone grinding against stone heralded something of much more concern.

“Hah. It seems that cheating is not appreciated after all,” Xuan Shi said.

Ahead of them, climbing to its feet, was the statue they had glimpsed. Easily ten meters tall, it was carved in the likeness of a brawny, bearded man in archaic armor. From its back rose eight additional arms, each composed of different elemental qi. It stepped off the dais it had been seated on, and the entire temple shook with its weight.

“I’m guessing it didn’t have those arms in the book,” Ling Qi said faintly, her eyes once again gleaming silver as she examined the statue. Even with her techniques however, what she could glean of its power was limited.

“Indeed not,” Xuan Shi replied, raising his staff defensively and taking on a wider stance. “However, this one suspects more than ever that brute force is not the answer.”

“I’m all for ideas,” Ling Qi said, taking stock of their surroundings. Without the barriers, there was room to release Zhengui, and she had every intention of doing so shortly. However, even now, she didn’t feel too worried. The door remained open behind them, so fleeing was always an option given the statue’s lumbering speed.

“It depends,” the boy answered as the statue took another long stride forward, rocking the floor, “on which of us shall bear the guardian’s ire and which shall seek its weakness?”

Threads 32-Adventure 3

Ling Qi looked up through narrowed eyes, studying the looming shape of the guardian. “I will identify its weakness,” she said. She breathed out, giving Zhengui and Hanyi a nudge. “You won’t be alone in your part though.”

Behind her, a great shadow formed as Zhengui emerged into the world. Zhengui stomped his feet as he grew solid, hunkering down in preparation for combat, even as his serpentine half reared up and hissed, sparks and embers dancing in the heat-warped air around his flickering tongue. Hanyi emerged perched on the jutting outer edge of his shell, one leg crossed over the other.

“I want you two to stay here and help Xuan Shi, got it?” Ling Qi directed seriously, glancing back over her shoulder at them. “Listen to him, alright?”

For a moment, Zhengui looked mutinous. “Big Sister, why can’t we go with you?” Gui complained.

“‘Cause she’s gonna be flying,” Hanyi replied in exasperation. “Don’t be such a big baby. We gotta make sure it doesn’t look at her after all.”

Zhen hissed irritably, flicking his tongue toward Xuan Shi. “Hmph. I, Zhen, will keep Sister safe. Foolish Gui and Xuan Shi had better not hold us back.”

Xuan Shi took his head slowly, expression hidden by the rim of his hat. Flicking his voluminous sleeve, a flock of octogonal clay tiles sprang out to buzz around him like circling insects. “A force to withstand legions stands here. Shame would fall upon us all if thy sister were to come to harm here, honored cousin.”

Ling Qi shot him an amused look even as her cloak flapped in a phantom wind and her feet left the ground. It wasn’t often that she heard the odd boy express pride. From what she could sense of his flaring aura, it was not unfounded.

“Still not your cousin,” Gui grumbled. “But I won’t let Big Sister down!”

“I’ll leave it to you then,” Ling Qi said lightly. <Sixiang, just be the eyes on my back,> she added silently.

<Got it,> said the muse, giving the impression of a flippant salute.

With that, she rose into the air and flickered, vanishing into the shadows to reappear meters away, climbing toward the height of the statue's head. Behind her, she heard Hanyi’s voice rise in song, and she saw a flare of ochre light.

Looking back, she saw Xuan Shi stepping forward, the ring of his staff pointed toward the guardian, and the clanging of the hanging rings echoed throughout the temple. Something shimmered in the air before him, and she felt his qi distort, spreading to engulf both Zhengui and Hanyi. For a moment, Ling Qi almost felt as if she could see the forbidding walls of a mighty fortress in the contours of the air around them.

Then the statue took another earth-shaking step forward, and eight arms punched out as one. A kaleidoscope of light and elemental qi poured out, eight twisting streamers that curved around and through each other as they spiralled in a downward arc toward Xuan Shi, Zhengui, and Hanyi. In the moment before it struck, Zhengui’s shell flared with viridian light, and thick roots rose from the ground, splintering tiles of stone.

The air rocked as the eightfold attack struck home with a thunderous crash as Ling Qi soared past the statue to circle behind it. When the smoke cleared, Xuan Shi and Zhengui both stood wholly unharmed. Ling Qi shook her head. They would be fine. She just had to focus on her task.

Ling Qi circled the statue, weaving through its limbs as it bore down on her companions. Scanning the construct’s stony hide, she let qi flood her eyes and released fluttering lights that darted into the shadow of massive limbs, too close to the body to be easily struck. With her expanded perspective, it became much easier to make sense of the formation patterns traced into the rock and carved into flows of qi that existed beneath the level of the physical.

The array that animated the statue was immensely complex, far beyond her ability to fully comprehend. Yet, as thunder and lightning boomed, and massive fists crashed down upon unyielding roots and walls of stone, Ling Qi focused her attention on the smaller parts. The whole of the array was beyond her, but individual components could be deciphered. Ling Qi darted under a blazing limb made entirely of lightning, following the spiralling line of the array that powered the thing’s many arms. There, in a space less than a handspan wide between its shoulder blades, she found the densest array yet.

Ling Qi raised her flute to her lips and let cold flow through her channels. She played the Hoarfrost Refrain and felt satisfaction as stone turned brittle and crumbled under the weight of the wintery verse. For a moment, the construct faltered, but then, before her very eyes, falling pebbles rose and shattered stone became whole as if time were reversing itself, leaving the statue and the array just as it was before her attack. The clinging, frozen qi that should have suffused it, continuing the damage, was purged as if it had never been.

The statue began to turn, seeking to confront the stinging fly at its back, but a massive root speared upward and curled around its stone limbs, forcing it to face forward as a barrage of clay tiles struck in hail-like patter, striking deliberately at points where Ling Qi had recalled seeing perception arrays.

Ling Qi darted away in the moment of respite that gave her, a frown on her face as she studied the statue again through four points of view. Destroying that array should have at least shut down the power to its extra limbs. What had she missed? Why had it restored itself like that? She had not sensed a technique activating or even another array.

Ling Qi let more moon qi flood into her eyes until she could see the faint silver light they cast on the statue’s broad back. But she still could not see what had caused the regeneration. Perhaps… Ah, the limbs themselves were the backup. She could see the characters connecting them. If she wanted to disable the main array, she would have to break the secondary chains that fed into the limbs first.

Satisfied, Ling Qi struck again, and the dazzling arm of raw lightning sputtered and died. Again, she sang, and the crashing thunder qi fell silent… for barely a moment. Ling Qi’s eyes widened as both of the limbs she had disabled burst back to life, the damage she had dealt erased in an instant!

In front of her, the statue stamped its feet and swung its fists, battering at Xuan Shi and Zhengui alike. Fists the size of small wagons crashed down on barriers of eight-sided tiles and bounced away as if they struck a mountain instead, and fists that came down on Zhengui’s burning shell seemed to barely touch him. Ling Qi did not miss the way that the blows made the fortress-lines traced in the air ripple nor the way that Xuan Shi’s robes wrinkled and bunched up as if he were suffering blows himself.

Hanyi stood behind them both, expression positively smug as she sang, her hands outstretched toward the statue. Ling Qi could feel the threads of her qi curled around the construct’s simple “mind,” but the two who stood in front of Hanyi formed an impassable wall.

Ling Qi could not help but feel as if she were as ineffectual as the statue. Frustration rising, Ling Qi once again darted in, sending her “eyes” spinning and circling all around the statue as she tried to figure out just what she was missing. Her eyes narrowed as she focused down, pushing everything else - the sounds of the fight, the rush of air past her ears, and the bursts of qi clouding her senses - aside. She focused herself entirely on the target of her ire.

Under her intense focus, she found what she was looking for there, layered beneath the other arrays, hidden under layers of conditional triggering effects. The simplicity of the trick made her feel embarrassed to have missed it.

“Zhen!” she called out in her thoughts as she flew into position. “Spit your venom at my light on the count of three!”

Ling Q isaw the fiery serpent twitch in confusion as the words reached him, but the confusion cleared away quickly as she saw his eyes focus on the hovering light right above the statue's left ankle. Satisfied that he knew what she was doing, Ling Qi flew through the tangle of arms to reach a spot just above the nape of the statue's neck and made her count.

Burning venom and hoarfrost song struck at the same time, and the statue seized up. Two limbs flickered out, fire and water both fading to nothingness.

“Xuan Shi! Lightning here -” a flickering wisp blurred to hover above the statue’s left pectoral “- and earth here!” she shouted next. A second wisp hovered over the statue’s navel.

To his credit, the boy understood immediately. A spike of stone slammed upward even as he spun, flinging a metal baton, still charged with a storm's worth of lightning higher still. In an instant, two more limbs were gone, and the restorative functions of the primary array grew weaker still.

Here, she encountered a conundrum. Of the remaining elements, she had little in the way of offensive techniques to shatter their guiding arrays. She did not think that Xuan Shi had any thunder, wind, or lake arts active. Nor did she know whether that mountain art he was using could be used offensively. Perhaps he might have a talisman that could do the trick, but she wanted to finish this herself.

The hem of her cloak snapped in the wind as she soared downward, the air sparkling with droplets of frozen water as she began to hum the Aria of Spring’s End. In seconds, she reached the main array and raised her flute, calling the wintery qi of the Hoarfrost Refrain down. Frost rippled out, and once again, stone cracked and splintered under supernatural cold. This time, however, the recovery was not instantaneous, slowed greatly by the loss of four power sources, and her technique clung to rock and artificial channels for a few crucial seconds.

Just enough time for her to lay her hands on either side of the great splintered crack she had made in the statue’s back and sing the Call to Ending. Her voice echoed loudly in the temple as she sang the wordless power of absolute cold into the world, and beneath her hands, stone exploded violently. Shards of frozen rock pattered like flakes of snow against her dress and face. The statue rocked and reeled, and its four remaining elemental arms winked out at once.

Ling Qi heard a rumbling battle cry and a mighty crash as a massive weight smashed against the statue's shins. Zhengui, charging forward, with his shell aglow with magmatic light, sent the statue tumbling, and over it’ falling shoulder, she spied Xuan Shi standing atop his shell, seemingly unbothered by the smoke rising from his feet. His ringed staff was raised over his head horizontally. As she watched, she felt the qi around the staff distort, and suddenly, the weapon went wholly still, even as Zhengui’s forward momentum tore it from Xuan Shi’s hands.

It hung there in the air, impossibly still, as the statue fell upon it, and remained there, hanging still in a cloud of dust after it had carved clean through the fallen construct’s neck. For a moment, as the echoes of the statue’s fall faded from the temple, Ling Qi hung silently in the air, staring down at the unmoving ruin Xuan Shi and Zhengui had wrought.

Then as Zhengui wriggled his way free of the fallen rock, and she saw Xuan Shi still standing on his shell, hat only slightly askew and dusty, she broke the silence. “I thought I had the offense?” she asked archly, hands on her hips.

Xuan Shi coughed and doffed his hat, revealing a head of short black hair, split by a short ridge of white bone that began at his forehead and disappeared beneath his collar in the back. “Apologies. This one merely sought to grasp opportunity,” he called up, returning his hat to its place as he hopped down from Zhengui’s back, embers still sizzling on his blackened sandals.

“You did say to listen to him, Big Sister,” Gui pointed out as Zhen emerged, grumbling from the back of their shell.

“I can’t believe you both left me alone!” Hanyi cried out from the other side of the broken statue. “I almost got squished, you jerks!”

Ling Qi glanced at Xuan Shi, who shook his head very slightly and flared the earthen qi that filled the channels that ran through his heart.

“But you didn’t jump on when I said so,” Gui pointed out guilelessly. He churned up a whole new cloud of dust as he worked to turn around in the rubble.

“Of course I didn’t! You went charging at that giant thing!” Hanyi complained, struggling her way over the top of the rubble pile as Ling Qi slowly descended.

“Obviously, I, Zhen, would not have agreed if it wasn’t safe. Hanyi should be more brave,” Zhen scoffed.

Ling Qi winced. She could feel the temperature around Hanyi drop from here.

“Why don’t we leave the kiddos to it?” Sixiang commented, amused. “I spied a door behind this thing’s pedestal.”

“I suppose I don’t mind since it worked,” Ling Qi said, ignoring the banter between her spirits for now as she spoke to Xuan Shi. “What was that trick with the staff anyway? It felt weird.”

“Without its time, there is no brute might which could budge an object,” Xuan Shi explained. Raising his hand, he gestured, and the staff shimmered before spinning back to his hand. As it did, Ling Qi saw one of the jade rings which hung from its head shatter. “Time cannot be held back forever however, and the price must be paid. Time arts incur great expense.”

Ling Qi eyes the remaining rings, all made of the very highest quality white jade, expensive enough that even the richest mortal could not dream of owning so much as a fragment of it. “Just how much did it cost last year to restrain Ji Rong like that?”

Xuan Shi seemed embarrassed. “Too much. This one somewhat regrets the ostentatious display.”

“Only somewhat?” Ling Qi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The punishment was excessive, not unwarranted,” he said shortly. “But this one should not have let the ruffian’s words affect his temper so.”

“Fair enough,” Ling Qi replied, wondering what Ji Rong could have said that would actually lead to Xuan Shi losing his temper while mentally batting away Sixiang’s insistent nudging. “Anyway, it seems we have a hidden door to look at.”

Behind the pedestal where the statue had stood, there was a small hall, just barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast, leading back to a plain wooden door. After a moment’s deliberation, Ling Qi decided to leave Zhengui and Hanyi outside, both to guard the entrance and because she did not want an ill-tempered Hanyi in her head at the moment.

“Thy spirits are a rambunctious sort,” Xuan Shi commented as they reached the door, raising his hat to study the unmarked wood.

“Aw, that’s sweet of you to say,” Sixiang laughed, twisting the wind into words as Ling Qi’s eyes flickered silver and she studied the frame and the surrounding walls.

“I wouldn’t trade them away for the world,” Ling Qi added as she let her technique fade. “I am surprised you don’t even have one though.”

Xuan Shi inclined his head. “There is no practical need, but perhaps I might find one in the future,” he said quietly. “This door has no malicious trappings, it seems.”

Accepting the change of subject, Ling Qi nodded. “I don’t see anything either. Guess we move forward.”

He nodded and jabbed his staff forward, pushing the door open.

Beyond the door lay a dimly lit room hung with streamers of silk. In one far corner, a pool of clear, clean water bubbled, flower petals floating on its surface, and in the other corner was a long couch, wide enough for two people to lie side-by-side. Faint streams of soft, airy music floated on the air, carrying strains of contentment and affection.

Stepping through the door beside Xuan Shi, she glanced left and right, taking in the mostly empty shelf that still had dusty cups and a single bottle of sweet wine, and then back to the full length mirror on the other wall.

“What,” she said dully for the second time this day.

Xuan Shi sank his face into his free hand. “... This one apologizes.”

“Just what kind of books do you read?” Sixiang asked in a delighted, sing-song voice.

“The Voyages of Yu Long are tales of romance and adventure,” Xuan Shi said defensively. “Not this… tastelessness,” he said a bit too quickly, gesturing at the room in general.

“Only because the old goat could not get his original manuscripts published,” said a voice from just behind them.

Ling Qi nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around. How! She hadn’t felt anything at all!

Behind her stood a figure she had only seen briefly before. Staring down at her with serene gray eyes, Yuan He ran his fingers through his beard, an expression of faint amusement on his ancient face. Or… no, it was just an image of him, she thought, but she couldn’t tell for certain. He was simply so far above her that her senses could not discern the difference.

Immediately, both Ling Qi and Xuan Shi bowed deeply.

“Sect Head Yuan, this one meant no disparagement upon the Sect’s trials,” the boy beside her said immediately.

“Do calm down, disciples. As you have likely guessed, this is less a trial and more an attraction. I suppose it had slipped this old man’s mind that it still stood,” the Sect Head said, looking around with… fond reminiscence? Ling Qi tried very hard not to think about that.

She coughed, straightening up but still keeping her head respectfully low. “Sect Head Yuan, could I ask you to explain please?” she asked haltingly.

He glanced her way, and Ling Qi tensed her shoulders. “Hm, I suppose it must be difficult to imagine,” the old man mused. “But once, the Sect was a much smaller and less ordered place. My Sect Uncle Lang was a good man, but he had opinions on propriety and certain forms of openness that made him… unpopular.”

Xuan Shi had a terribly conflicted look in his eyes. “Do you mean to say that his works were meant for only -”

The bottom of a steel-shod cane cracked against the floor, and thunder rumbled. “Young man, if my uncle’s work spoke to you, then does it matter that it might have been planned to include some illicit content?” the old man asked blithely.

“No,” Xuan Shi acknowledged after a moment.

Ling Qi didn’t know that she agreed. Such things were kept well out of public for a reason; she had seen what it looked like when things like that were not handled with care, far, far from everyday life.

<Ling Qi,> Sixiang sighed.

“My thoughts on the matter aside, I can hardly allow this place to remain open in this day and age,” Yuan He sighed. “Still, the two of you have reminded me of good days, even if the two of you rather missed the point of the place,” he said with a bark of laughter.

“And what is that point?” Ling Qi asked, speaking before her mind could catch up. She didn’t blame Xuan Shi for bringing her here. He was a poor enough liar that she was sure that he genuinely hadn’t intended something untoward.

Yuan He gave her a look, and Ling Qi felt an unpleasant prickling on her skin like he was looking through her. “Young lady, I think you will find that the men and women of this world can take most anything and make it a horror. This place was, however, built to bring young men and women together in joy and comfort away from judging eyes.”

Ling Qi looked away, unable to hold the old man’s gaze. What a surreal conversation this was. But… she supposed it wasn’t impossible. Her experiences aside, she had glimpsed things in Sixiang’s memory. Something so fundamental to the human experience couldn’t be wholly awful. It didn’t make her skin crawl any less, standing here in this room.

“What happened to the author?” Xuan Shi asked, breaking the silence.

“Sect Elder Lang fell in battle with Ogodei, like many others,” Yuan He answered, taking another glance around the room. Once again, he rapped his cane against the earth, and very suddenly, they were back outside the ruin. and Ling Qi could hear Hanyi and Zhengui’s cries of confusion behind them, having been transported with them. “In any case, for bringing this to my attention, I will see the two of you rewarded. Now, get you gone. Sealing off this valley is going to take some time.”

Together, Ling Qi and Xuan Shi bowed again and turned to leave. It was an odd end to an odd adventure. Still, up until its end, she had had fun. And later, when she had a chance to check, she found that she - and presumably Xuan Shi as well - had been rewarded handsomely with ten contribution points and sixty sect points, enough for some potent cultivation medicines or a visit to the higher levels of the archive..

But it was time to get back to her duties. Cai Renxiang’s next social gathering was coming up, and she could feel the insistent tugging of the hole in her cultivation art, demanding that she decide which phase to empower.

Threads 33-Peers 1

“So, I think I would call my outing with Xuan Shi a success,” Ling Qi finished, drumming her fingers on the arms of her chair. She’d left the exact details out of her report, but she had parted with the Xuan scion on good, if awkward, terms.

“Very good. He is an important contact,” Cai Renxiang said crisply, capping the scroll case in her hands with a snap. It soon joined its brothers on a pyramidal stack. “We should be on our way.”

Ling Qi eyed it and the stack of unfinished documents covered in unfamiliar numbers and names. She stood, and Cai Renxiang did the same as they left the girl’s office.

“You know,” Ling Qi started casually, “what is all of that back there about? I can’t imagine that taking care of finances for a handful of people and a small gathering requires that much paperwork.”

“Somewhat more than you might imagine,” Cai Renxiang replied in that way she had, the one that made Ling Qi unsure if Cai was being sarcastic. “What brings the question?”

Ling Qi gave an awkward shrug as they made their way out of her liege’s residence. “Just curious, I suppose. I was wondering what has made you so busy.”

“It is merely another set of tasks Mother has set me,” Cai Renxiang replied. The light that had once clung to her head and shoulders seemed to suffuse her more fully now, gleaming from the folds of her gown and leaving a faint shimmer in her wake. “I am to mirror the role of the Minister of one of Mother's minor holdings.”

Ling Qi blinked, staring at the back of the girl’s head blankly. “How are you to do that from here?”

“Only the administrative portion of the role, obviously,” Cai Renxiang said, glancing back at her. “I receive the same reports, requests, and other information that he does. Of course, the budgets, reviews, and legal rulings I create are for Mother’s eyes alone. I have not been reprimanded for errors yet, so I can only assume that I am performing adequately.”

“Only adequately?” Ling Qi asked with a raised eyebrow.

Cai Renxiang did not visibly react to her words, but when she spoke, Ling Qi did hear a tinge of frustration to her words. “I will not presume. I will admit, however, that it is somewhat vexing to see a new month's reports and find inefficiencies that I had uncovered continuing unobstructed and find other short-sighted decisions being repeated again and again.”

<Such a nice family your boss has,> Sixiang whispered dryly. Her head felt oddly quiet with only the muse and herself present.

Ling Qi had to admit, she would not say that she knew her liege's mind perfectly but that seemed like something deliberately designed to agitate her. She supposed she couldn’t know the Duchess’ mind. “The Duchess is not the sort to hide her displeasure, I think,” Ling Qi commented carefully, “or to accept adequacy.”

“I am aware. I simply fail to understand her intentions,” Cai Renxiang said, the irritation in her voice subsiding. They lapsed into companionable silence as they reached the cliffside of the mountain and took flight, heading for the building her liege had rented for this month's gathering. They needed to be there first to greet guests as they arrived.

***

The hall was much the same as it had been each time before. Colorful tapestries and strings of flowering plants were hung on the stone walls, and there was a table laden with treats from all over Emerald Seas, attended by minor Sect workers. There was a single stage for entertainers, which she would be spending a large portion of her time during the gathering on.

For now though, she stood near the entrance behind and to the right of Cai Renxiang to greet their guests as they arrived. She had done this a couple of times now and had prepared herself mentally for a good half hour of dull greetings and pleasantry. However, she found herself surprised by the first ones to arrive.

While Bai Meizhen arriving early to claim and dominate a corner of the hall was not unusual, the one with her was. Bao Qingling was not a common sight period. The tall, gangly girl had shown up briefly at the first one to give Cai Renxiang some face but never again. She was also missing the shapeless smock and other accessories Ling Qi had always seen the girl wearing before. While the thick padded clothes, gloves, and boots remained, the top layer was made of silk in shiny black and green, rather than dull brown leather.

“... the qualities, texture, and toughness of the silk is a significant divergence. How is the retention of the toxin potency?” she heard Bai Meizhen ask as they approached.

“Seventy-five percent,” Bao Qingling replied gruffly. Her gaze remained straight ahead as she spoke, but her fingers twitched with a certain nervous energy. “Still needs workshopping, but progress has been satisfactory so far.”

“The work reminds me of the crafts of certain family artifacts,” Bai Meizhen said smoothly. “The quality is not quite there, obviously, but it is an intriguing project. The use of treated spider webbing, rather than traditional silk, is an interesting twist.”

“You’re too kind,” the taller girl said, a bit of pride creeping into her dry voice. “The works of Bai Xiong are treasured masterworks for a reason.” Their conversation fell silent as they approached the hall.

“Miss Bai, Miss Bao,” Cai Renxiang greeted formally as they stepped inside. “Welcome to my hall. You honor me with your presence.”

“Thank you very much for coming,” Ling Qi echoed. “I hope that you find the afternoon enjoyable.”

“And I am honored by your invitation,” Bai Meizhen replied evenly. She cast Ling Qi an amused glance, but Ling Qi retained her pleasant mask. They had to go through the motions after all; she could chat with her friend later.

“As am I,” Bao Qingling added stiffly, dipping her head with a twitchy jerk. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lady Cai.”

“Thank you for your kind words. Please partake as you will of refreshments while the other guests arrive,” Cai Renxiang said, gesturing that they were free to pass.

There was another exchange of bows, and the two passed them by. Ling Qi glanced back at them as their conversation resumed.

“I would be interested to see the reaction of your silk to some Bai venoms,” Bai Meizhen began.

Then Cai Renxiang shot Ling Qi a look, and Ling Qi smiled apologetically. They already had more guests coming. Eyes up front. She would have to figure out what those two were up to later.

Guests trickled in, coming in ones and twos and threes. Gu Xiulan arrived, as did Xuan Shi and some of Ling Qi’s former tutors. Shen Hu drifted in alone, still seeming awkward, although dressed nicely.

As the arrivals were beginning to taper off, Ling Qi found herself facing the day's second surprise. As a head of red hair came into view, she caught even Cai Renxiang’s lips briefly twitch down into a frown.

Yet, nonetheless, as Sun Liling came to a stop in front of them, her hands tucked into her pockets and her shoulders casually slouched, Cai Renxiang did not miss a beat. “Welcome, Princess Sun. It pleases me that you have deigned to accept one of my invitations.”

“It really is a pleasure,” Ling Qi added blandly. She knew in a vague sense that Cai Renxiang regularly invited everyone above a certain status to avoid giving offense, but she supposed that she had never considered that this would include Sun Liling. “I hope you have managed to cure your restlessness, Princess Sun.”

“Hah, suppose I have,” Sun Liling laughed. “Apologies if my presence disturbed your delicate sensibilities the other day. I hope ya remembered my message.”

<I wonder if you humans have invented an art to make words into actual knives,> Sixiang mused silently in her head.

“She did,” Cai Renxiang replied evenly. “Your concern is appreciated, Princess.”

“I’m glad,” Sun Liling said agreeably. “I’ve been reminded that we can’t let little grudges and indiscretions get in the way of cooperation. We’re all servants of one Empire after all,” she drawled.

“An admirable view,” Cai Renxiang said as Ling Qi tried to keep a dubious expression off her face. “You are welcome to my gathering, Princess Sun. I hope that you find it satisfactory.”

Sun Liling nodded then passed them by. Ling Qi shared a long look with her liege. It looked like she wasn’t alone in not buying that for an instant. For now, there was little to do about it. She remained by Cai Renxiang’s side until the greeting was done.

As Ling Qi mounted the steps to the stage and drew her flute to begin playing the first of her new pieces, her thoughts wandered to the party ahead. While she would observe everyone as well as she could from the stage, she had to consider how she would spend her time in the intermission between performances.

When Ling Qi began her first piece of the afternoon, she allowed her qi to stir and effortlessly weave the Spring Breeze Canto into the light and ephemeral notes of her song. In studying the Harmony of the Dancing Wind art, she had worried that it was too direct and intrusive, or even rude, to use in social gatherings, but in attending these gatherings, she had begun to pick up some unspoken rules.

It was simply accepted that everyone would listen in on everyone else. If Ling Qi focused, turning her attention to any one party goer, she could see the traces of perception arts. Cai Renxiang cast an invisible radiance over the gaggle of young nobles she conversed with, and its shadow stretched beyond them into the shifting crowd. Bai Mizhen’s presence loomed in the far corner, periodically exuding tendrils of qi like a snake tasting the air. Bao Qingling stood enshrouded in a drifting web of strands that vibrated with every passing motion and word in her vicinity.

These perception arts were not uncontested however. As the soft notes of her song drifted over the hall, people would fade in and out. She looked to Wen Cao, quietly conversing with another boy, and found her senses distorted, as if she were seeing and hearing through a veil of rippling water. She looked to Sun Liling, and the beating of a monstrous heart drowned out Sun’s exact words as she chatted with a girl Ling Qi did not recognize.

It was a little irritating that she had only found this out such a short time ago. However, she could not resent her friends in this for not explaining. Like many other things, it simply wasn’t something that was talked about. It was something that was known implicitly, the same way that she knew that speaking loudly would result in people nearby overhearing her words. If someone had needed that explained to them, wouldn’t she be baffled?

The norm she had figured out gave her a new perspective on these gatherings. It was all one big dance of play and counterplay. Still, at least, she was beginning to develop the proper tools for this battlefield as well. So Ling Qi played, and Ling Qi observed.

The overall mood was good. Disciples were pleased with her performance and the provided refreshments. In casual conversations, praise for her liege came easily to many lips. The swift, steady rise in ranks she was undergoing was not eliciting much resentment, but the comments she overheard regarding herself were less positive in tone. From the scions of various Emerald Seas clans, there was a certain air of resentment toward her, as if she had snatched something that belonged to them.

More annoying were the veiled sneering toward some of her recent actions. Scions complained that she was thoughtless and destructive for setting off the storm on the Outer Peak without warning. that she wasted her time playing around with mortals, and that she built her staff from gutter trash, ignorant of “that sort’s” inherent untrustworthiness. The last complaint was especially annoying because there was always the undertone that she was that sort as well, and that obviously, someone should see about displacing her from the position she found herself in at Cai Renxiang’s side.

Of course, she couldn’t act on the comments she had gleaned when the notes of her song pierced the obscuring veils of party goers’ social masking arts. That just wasn’t how the game worked. No, she had to smile, keep her knives up her sleeves, and act like the only things she had heard were the things said to her face.

Ling Qi had put aside many petty grudges in the Outer Sect as she grew past their perpetrators. She had fixed her eyes forward on climbing the mountain of cultivation and cast aside her detractors as meaningless distractions. But that was not really an option anymore, she thought grimly. Perhaps these specific individuals could be treated the same way, but the families of Emerald Seas and beyond that they represented were not so easily ignored.

Ling Qi allowed none of her thoughts to be expressed on her face or in her song, continuing to play the smooth melody she had composed for the party as she turned her attention to more individual concerns. Although her art failed to allow her to perceive Sun Liling’s actual words, she could still observe the girl’s actions, which were very mundane. The princess chatted, mingled, laughed politely at jests, and just generally acted the part of any other noble at the gathering. Sun still kept her slouched and casual posture and skimped on formal motions, but in every other way, she seemed to simply be behaving herself.

Bai Meizhen seemed surprisingly comfortable among the guests. The ripples of terror that she had once unleashed with her every motion were controlled now, and she spoke with ease to those who engaged her. Ling Qi even spied what she suspected was the source of Meizhen’s previous complaints, a handsome young man in white and black robes who seemed to hang on her every word. Ling Qi didn’t miss the spark of extra animation that entered into Meizhen’s expression when those seeking her attention drifted off and the pale girl turned back to Bao Qingling, who hovered nearby, radiating prickliness from her scowling expression. She had caught the Bao’s attention shifting her way periodically as well, so Ling Qi suspected that they would be speaking later regardless.

Eventually though, her first piece wound down, and Ling Qi stepped away from the stage to be replaced by a young man with a guqin whose name escaped her at the moment. She gave him a polite nod as she passed him by.

<What’s the plan then, boss?> Sixiang drawled.

Ling Qi considered her options as she made her way to the drinks table and accepted a cup of pale plum wine. It would have been mildly intoxicating to a mortal, but for anyone here, it may as well have been a simple fruit juice.

What should she do? Usually, at these gatherings, she said hello and made small talk with whichever of her friends were present and traded pleasantries with the handful of people who approached her. That was the only reason she remembered that Wen fellow’s name. He was consistent in finding and greeting her at these things.

She glanced in the direction from which she could feel the Wen’s qi; he seemed rather withdrawn today. This was fine with her; though she knew he was a valuable contact in the Ebon Rivers province, she didn’t much care for him.

She was getting distracted though. Ling Qi took a sip from her cup and then turned and began to walk toward the most brightly lit portion of the room.

<That’s your choice then?> Sixiang asked quietly.

<I can’t just keep playing around at the edges,> Ling Qi thought back. <I need to start taking this more seriously.>

Cai Renxiang would be the one to observe and learn from. Besides, she was certain no one could actually enjoy being alone, surrounded by false faces at these gatherings. ... Well, Xiulan might; that girl did seem to delight in trading insinuations and jibes with unfriendly people. She chalked that up to her friend’s aggressive, confrontational attitude though.

Ling Qi left those thoughts aside as she made her way through the crowd to reach Cai Renxiang.

Threads 34 Peers 2

Ling Qi found her liege surrounded by a small gaggle of disciples.

Among them was Bian Ya, her one-time tutor. She wore a clinging, two-layered gown of shimmering green and white, and her hair was put up in a complex arrangement, woven through combs and flowers. Bian Ya still felt like a light spring breeze blowing through a field of fragrant flowers to Ling Qi’s senses.

There was another boy who caught her eye with his cultivation. Leanly built with rough features and darker skin and a faintly wolfish air about him, he stood with confident ease beside Bian Ya. He wore a charcoal grey robe with white hems marked by simple geometric patterns in threads of gold. His spirit felt like a clear night sky on a moonless night, but the faint scent of blood seeped beneath it like passing by the door to a butchery.

There was a third as well, a whip-thin boy in dark green robes with a tall black cap. He had pale, handsome features with a touch of the feminine about them. For a brief moment, he reminded her of the prince from that terrible dream. He stood quietly with a cup in his hand off to one side, his half-lidded gaze sharp and inquisitive. His cultivation felt like an old and weatherbeaten willow tree rising from the bubbling muck of a reed-choked riverbank.

There were other disciples, but they were equals or lessers in cultivation that hardly drew Ling Qi’s eye as she sidled into the loose group that surrounded her liege.

“It is true that the Cloud Tribes have grown withdrawn in the past decade. However, I would caution against the belief that this makes them a spent force,” Ling Qi heard her liege say as she tuned in to the conversation, shuffling the other background noise out of her attention for Sixiang to peruse later.

“It would seem less than optimal to overestimate them as well,” the boy Cai Renxiang was conversing with pointed out in a cautious voice. He was short and wide of build with the beginning of a mustache dusting his upper lip. There was no kind way to say it, but he reminded her of Fan Yu as his spirit spoke of a boulder rumbling downhill, growing and picking up debris. “If left to their own devices, they will only return to raid another year.”

“Confronting a beast in its own den is a wholly different affair than defending your pens, Sir Wang,” the rougher of the two boys she had taken notice of said in a dry voice. She did not miss the faintly disrespectful twist his tongue gave to the word “sir” however. “One need be prepared to hold the den, else the cost of the taking be wasted when a new beast moves in. It is not as if there are any limits to the number of tribes lurking in the mountains. Turn over a rock, and five more will burst forth.”

Wang shot him a venomous look, but it was Cai Renxiang who spoke. “Sir Luo’s words are not without merit,” she said smoothly. “Mother’s opinion remains that consolidation of our current territories is to remain the priority. While I laud your family’s zeal for enriching the Empire and our humble province, I will have to ask that you convey my Mother’s words of patience to your elders.”

“Of course, Lady Cai,” the apparent Wang scion said, dipping a bow. “I simply wished to present certain ideas for your consideration.”

Cai Renxiang gave a small nod before her eyes flicked over to where Ling Qi stood behind the main circle. “Ling Qi, has some concern arisen?”

“Not at all, Lady Cai,” Ling Qi replied, clasping her hands in front of her chest and bowing toward the assembled nobles. “With some small time free, I simply thought to observe the discussions of my fellows from our fair province.” Spirits, talking like this made her feel silly.

“Hoh, and here I thought foreigners your sole realm of interest,” the effeminate boy said in a silky voice. “Was that not what our Lady procured your services for?”

“I have retained Ling Qi’s services for a number of reasons,” Cai Renxiang interjected, heading off the conversation. “ You are welcome to spend your respite from your duties observing, of course.”

“Thank you very much, Lady Cai,” Ling Qi said simply. “While I know Miss Bian already, may I humbly request the rest of your names?”

They answered, some more reluctantly than others. The lean and wolfish boy was Luo Zhong, and the effeminate one Meng De, members of the eastern and western count families. Aside from Wang Chao, the rest were a scatter of viscount and baron family scions from all around Emerald Seas.

As the last of the introductions died down, Bian Ya shot her a smile. “I have to say. Miss Ling, your talents are truly admirable. I have found myself impressed in both of your challenges thus far.”

“I would caution Miss Ling to control herself better in the future,” Meng De said quietly. “The final showing in her duel exceeded good taste.”

“Quite right,” Wang Chao said, shaking his head. “I cannot speak against your musical talents, but that part at the end of the duel was a bit vicious to use on a countryman, wasn’t it?”

Luo Zong scoffed. “She displayed the virtues of a noblewoman of Emerald Seas, beauty and grace sheathing a swift and fatal fury. There is no need to be soft when an elder is overseeing matters. If anything, her duel cleared some of the doubts the first competition raised.”

“My opponent gave his best against me,” Ling Qi replied carefully. “I would not do him the insult of holding back out of pity.”

“You will find that your lessers do not generally know what is best for them,” Meng De scoffed. “In the future, consider using the superior judgement that your cultivation and position affords, rather than simply catering to foolish pride.”

<You’d get mad if I yanked that one’s underclothes up over his forehead, huh?> Sixiang whispered.

“Thank you for your advice, Sir Meng,” Ling Qi said, giving no outward indication that she had heard Sixiang.

“Leaving that advice of Meng’s aside,” Wang Chao huffed, shooting Meng a disgruntled look, “it occurs that this is a rare opportunity. You must be aware of the foul rumor that has begun to spread about your house already, Miss Ling. Might you want to address the matter?”

Despite her best efforts, Ling Qi could feel her expression hardening. “I am merely rewarding loyalty. Those who were friends to my mother and I when we were in a low position deserve that much.” While she might not remember them herself, her mother did see them as friends, and that was enough. “If the Liu family is truly in such difficult straits, I would be happy to discuss recompense for recruiting some of their citizens.”

Luo Zhong smiled thinly at her while Meng De simply shook his head in a condescending manner. Bian Ya shot her a sympathetic look though.

However their responses all stilled when Cai Renxiang cleared her throat. “I find myself disappointed, but not surprised, to find those who obsess over petty nonsense, even in my own province. It is unfortunate, but I trust Ling Qi with the maintenance of her own household.”

“Well said, my lady,” Bian Ya said lightly. “Really, it is unfortunate to see such foolishness being taken seriously.”

“It is a rather minor matter,” Meng De said smoothly. “Regardless, I believe we should return to the previous matters…?”

Ling Qi held in a sigh of relief as she was allowed to leave the center of attention and observe the interactions of the nobles. She kept her own counsel, speaking up mostly to support her liege when appropriate. The picture she got was not encouraging.

Of course, these were only young men and women, but it seemed even Cai Shenhua’s rise had not welded together the province’s internal divisions. Luo and Meng sniped at each other regularly, and both looked down on the Wang for being a newly raised count family. Meanwhile, Wang blustered at everyone else. Viscounts and barons quarreled in their own little packs, vying for favorable words from the ones above them.

Bian Ya’s position seemed odd to her. She knew the Bian were a viscount house, but Bian Ya was treated with respect approaching that of the count scions. Ling Qi wasn’t sure if it was a matter of cultivation or something to do with the fact that her clan served directly under the Cai.

Eventually, she got a moment to speak alone with her liege as the group dispersed and sought the refreshment table. They were truly alone as well, Ling Qi noted, hidden beneath the spiritual glare of Cai Renxiang’s presence.

“Sorry I can’t be of more help in situations like that,” Ling Qi apologized quietly.

“I do not expect you to keep up with that squabbling pack yet,” Cai Renxiang murmured. “Though I am surprised that you tried of your own volition.”

Ling Qi felt ashamed. “I feel as if I may not have been pulling my weight in regards to you, Lady Cai. I wanted to begin reversing that.”

Cai Renxiang shook her head very slightly. “Your primary duty remains growing strong enough to continue following me, but I appreciate the gesture. Might I suggest approaching your eventual peers individually? Your talents are more suited toward that sort of interaction.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Ling Qi said as they reached the table. “And you, Lady Cai, is there anything I may do to assist you?”

Her liege shot her a look out of the corner of her eye. “If your cultivation schedule allows, I would find a spar refreshing once this is over.”

“I believe I can find the time,” Ling Qi replied dryly. “But I should go. I wouldn’t want to leave your guests without entertainment.”

As she returned to the stage for her second piece, Ling Qi pondered the future. Her remaining time in the Sect would be a fleeting thing, but dealing with the nobility of Emerald Seas would probably be a mainstay of her life going forward.

<And isn’t that a fun realization,> Sixiang laughed as Ling Qi began to play.

Life couldn’t always be fun, Ling Qi thought absently. But, like Xuan Shi, it couldn't hurt to make a few more friends, could it? Or at least, she could gather information on future enemies. So, as she cast out her senses through her song, Ling Qi pondered on where to direct her attention during her next break.

Ling Qi considered her liege's words as she let her point of view rove about the room, carried on the notes of her melody. She was glad that she had picked up the Harmony of Dancing Wind art. Even if she could not quite see through the obfuscation of every social art, merely listening in without an art of technique was an inexact effort at the best of times. Now, though, she could much more easily match rumors to the lips that spoke them and see the reactions of the ones being spoken to directly. It would make the list of information she handed over to Cai Renxiang at the end of the night much more detailed and useful.

Still, general eavesdropping aside, her encounter with some of the scions of Emerald Seas highest families had been enlightening. Cai Renxiang was right; she wasn’t quite ready to go diving in the deep waters, so to speak. So as her second piece wound down, she already knew where she was going to go. She needed to build up a friendly foundation before attempting the higher echelons again.

After taking her bows to the audience’s polite applause, she stepped down from the stage, and crossed the floor to where two familiar faces were engaged in a chat. Bian Ya, she had spoken to just earlier, but her partner in conversation was one that Ling Qi had not spoken to in many months. Ruan Shen had been her first tutor, back when she had been a mere second realm cultivator. He had given her lessons on the foundations of musical arts which had proven useful throughout the previous year, even as she had moved into learning from Zeqing.

Ruan Shen had not changed much from the last time she had seen him. He still wore an open-fronted, baggy robe with flowery designs embroidered into the silk. His hair was a bit longer perhaps, and faint streaks of dark blue wove through the black now, but his handsome face and easy-going smile were much the same.

<That one’s a bit different from your usual tastes,> Sixiang mused. <Want me to do a quality check under the curtain?>

Ling Qi kept her expression straight and serene as she gave the spirit a mental swat, to which they responded by retreating, laughing deeper into her thoughts. She could feel that both of the senior Inner disciples had noticed her approach as she neared, so she was unsurprised when their conversation tapered off and Ruan Shen turned to look her way.

“Junior Sister Ling,” he greeted warmly, offering a shallow bow. “That was a wonderful piece. You’re going to make your poor Senior Brother feel inadequate if you keep improving so quickly.”

“You are too kind, Senior Brother Ruan,” she replied, returning his bow. “I still have much to learn in the art of music.”

“Oh, so the two of you know one another then?” Bian Ya asked, looking between the two of them.

“This one only offered a few small lessons to his Junior Sister, which she happened to take quite far. Ah, is this the pride of the mentor?” Ruan Shen sighed airily.

“I am thankful for your lessons, of course,” Ling Qi replied with amusement. “I have already learned of how much fun it is to tease one's juniors.”

“Oh, how fast they grow,” Ruan Shen said with pride. “You have truly bloomed beautifully, Junior Sister Ling.”

Ling Qi forced down the blush that wanted to rise on her cheeks. Bian Ya thankfully covered for her, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she laughed daintily. “My, it seems there are more sides to you than I had believed, Miss Ling.”

Ling Qi coughed into her hand. “Ling Qi is fine, if it pleases you. In any case, I just wanted to thank you for your kind words earlier, Senior Sister Bian.”

“My name will do,” the older girl said smoothly. “Please think nothing of it. It does one well to be kind to new players in the game, I think, and you were a dutiful student.”

“You are braver than I, Junior Sister, if that kind of fencing is to your fancy,” Ruan Shen said gravely, raising the cup in his hand like a toast. “This one chooses the path of the humble musician.”

“Is your grandfather not recently broken through to the indigo realm?” Bian Ya asked. “It may behoove you to begin sharpening your blade yourself.”

“Ah, but this one has many older brothers, sisters, and cousins, who have the matter well in hand,” Ruan Shen noted. “I shall keep to my areas of talent.”

<I wonder how many of them were halfway through the third realm at his age though,> Sixiang thought. <I don’t blame the poor guy, but I think he might be in denial.>

Perhaps, but Ling Qi thought him lucky for having others to cover for him. “If it would not be rude,” she said instead, “might I know something of your families? I am still coming to terms with the connections in Emerald Seas.”

“Do not let our peers fool you. Those connections are as tangled as the branches of the oldest growth. The Hui and their predecessors were lacking administrators,” Bian Ya said kindly. “The Bian family oversees some of the more profitable tea farming in Emerald Seas, and we hold the rank of Viscount, serving beneath the honored Cai themselves.”

“Though your esteemed Patriarch’s solid foundation in the violet realm has set things abroil again. I believe your grandfather was nearing that realm as well, Miss Bian,” Ruan Shen highlighted lightly. “Alas that lands cannot be conjured whole from the aether.”

“Quite so,” Bian Ya said, amused. “We cannot all be so lucky as the Ruan, bordering wilderness that has lain fallow for centuries.”

“I suppose so,” Ruan Shen sighed, looking as if he wished he could strum on his instrument. “We are but humble barons serving under the Bao, Miss Ling, overseeing groves of valuable spirit trees. The cuttings turn quite a profit, as well as being perfect for use in crafting instruments. Hence, our name.”

Ling Qi didn’t need Sixiang’s help to read between the lines of the conversation. It made sense then that Bian Ya would be friendly toward people like herself or Ruan Shen. Since her family was a budding power, the older clans would be largely hostile by default. Friends and allies would have to come from outside that circle.

<It’s a wonder you guys ever get anything creative done at all,> Sixiang mused sadly.

“And what of you then, Miss Ling?” Bian Ya asked. “Do you know what you will be doing in the future?”

Ling Qi considered her answer but then answered, “My primary duty will be to attend Lady Cai, of course, but I believe once her time in the Sect is over, there is a fief on the southern border waiting for us. I’m afraid the exact details have not been settled yet.”

“That is a posting with much opportunity, I think,” Bian Ya said thoughtfully. “I can think of only a few locations which might be fit for a young heiress to oversee, and they are all choice locations, ignoring the barbarians.”

“That is quite a thing to ignore, Sect Sister,” Ruan Shen said dryly.

Bian Ya noted, “One must endure risk and hardship to achieve success. That is only good sense.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Ling Qi said. “I hope I can count on you for advice in the future, Senior Sister.”

“Naturally,” the girl said with a smile. “One can never have enough friends after all.”

“Perhaps I should make my exit,” Ruan Shen said aloud. “It is said that when the ladies conspire, a sensible man should flee.”

“What kind of cowardly saying is that?” Ling Qi asked with a raised eyebrow.

He replied with an easy grin. “One made by men of little actual sense, I should think. But to be serious, if you wish to discuss matters of politics, I am not the most useful, Junior Sister.”

“You undersell yourself, Sir Ruan” Bian Ya said slyly, her long eyelashes fluttering. “Else I would not have sought you out.”

Ling Qi glanced between them and suddenly became uncomfortably aware of the look and tone with which the older girl spoke to her former tutor. Some part of her felt a certain sullen envy at the way the older boy suddenly found the need to clear his throat. She quashed the silly feeling immediately.

<You really give up too easily on some things,> Sixiang muttered. Ling Qi ignored that too.

“I am sure Senior Brother Shen has a great deal of good advice still,” she said instead. “But it has been quite a long time since I have heard Senior Brother play. I am surprised that you have never taken a performance slot.”

“Sir Ruan can be surprisingly shy,” Bian Ya said with a laugh.

“Hah, perhaps those words held some truth,” Ruan Shen lamented. “Already, the two of you have joined forces.”

If she ignored the uncomfortable feeling that Bian Ya’s flirtations gave her, Ling Qi would say that the chatting that followed was actually a little fun. With the subject changed from politics, their conversation drifted to music and poetry, which was much easier fare.

Still, she left the conversation with somewhat mixed feelings. She was glad that she had secured a friendly relationship with two of her seniors, but…

Ling Qi shook her head as she approached the stage for her final piece. She was being silly. Ling Qi turned her attention toward her destination, but before she could reach the stage, she found her way blocked by a mildly irate-looking Bao Qingling.

“Here,” the girl said bluntly, thrusting a hand toward Ling Qi. It held an expensive envelope sealed with golden wax. “My brother wanted me to give you this.”

Ling Qi blinked, nonplussed, and accepted the envelope. “Uh… thank you,” she said, feeling unsure.

“You’re welcome,” the older girl said dully, brushing past her. “Send your response soon.”

Ling Qi looked at the girl's retreating back and then to the envelope in mild trepidation. What was that about?

She shook her head. She would have to read it later. The stage was empty, and she couldn’t leave her liege's guests without entertainment. It would make the Cai look bad.

Somehow, Ling Qi thought, this night was more tiring than the last few. She couldn’t say she wouldn’t be glad to see the end of it.

She even had a spar to look forward to.

Threads 35 Peers 3

Ling Qi darted through a mist-shrouded forest of stone trunks, her skin gleaming with emerald light from the power of the techniques coursing through her channels. The melody of the Forgotten Vale echoed through the cold darkness of the late evening, and red-eyed phantoms stalked at her heels and prowled in the shadows.

Yet, like the night itself, she could only fall back before the rising of the sun. Stone exploded into powder and molten glass as a saber forged of colorless light ripped through the space that had been occupied by the pillars, sending their tops crashing down like falling trees, and Ling Qi ducked the arc of its swing by inches, flyaway strands of her hair dissolving into shadow rather than being burned away.

Even as Ling Qi spun to face her foe, the heiress’ eyes were ablaze with radiance that scorched the very flows of qi that maintained her arts. Yet, even as Cai Renxiang drove her dainty fist in under Ling Qi’s ribs and launched her backward with a muffled boom of displaced air that scattered dust in every direction, the patina of green light that shielded Ling Qi held just long enough.

Ling Qi grimaced as she twisted in the air so that it was her feet that struck the pillar, instead of her back. The impact still splintered rock, sending a spider web of cracks through the pillar and forcing her to bounce away, flickering through the shadows to reemerge as it collapsed atop the space where she had been.

“An interesting technique,” Cai Renxiang’s voice rang out as the heiress turned, raising her saber back into a strong two-handed guard stance while Ling Qi repositioned herself in the shadows. Light radiated from Cai Renxiang at every angle, and the cloth of her gown rippled with hungry motion. Although Ling Qi’s mist surrounded Cai, it could not touch her, burning away as surely as any mist exposed to light. “You do truly enjoy making use of arts which force your opponents to exert themselves to exhaustion if they wish to overpower you.”

Ling Qi allowed herself a grin as Sixiang exerted themself, purging the burning radiance from her meridians and allowing her to renew Deepwood Vitality. While chatting in battle was generally foolish, this was just a spar, so it was fine. Thankfully, she could do so without breaking her song as well. Sixiang was helpful like that. She could imagine some other uses for the ability to fake individual voices as well. For now though, she thought, and the wind vibrated as if she had spoken.

“Lady Cai has been a very good teacher in showing me the need to defend myself from dispelling arts.”

“The strongest shield or sharpest sword is useless if torn from its user’s hands,” Cai Renxiang agreed. Even as she spoke, Ling Qi tensed, layering on another armoring technique as the heiress lunged, crashing through the pillars that stood between them like a meteor.

Ling Qi vanished into shadow, her limbs flickering with stop motion speed as she avoided the thrust of the girl’s saber, but it was only a feint. Three criss-crossing rings of light burned into existence around her and discharged countless beams of burning light only a finger wide from their inner surface.

Deepwood Vitality shattered under the first ring’s fire, and it was only her quick reaction that allowed her to escape the cage of the second and third by slipping into insubstantiality. Despite her shift into the shadows, she emerged from the radiant cage with her qi mildly drained from holding up against the radiance that carved through her shadowy form.

It was only a distraction however. As Ling Qi reoriented herself, she found herself under relentless assault. Cai Renxiang’s saber was a blur of blinding light as it swept and spun through the air, forcing her to retreat, flowing around the blade or deflecting with qi-armored forearms, but never meeting her strikes head-on.

Ling Qi knew from experience that doing so was futile. Cai Renxiang had already grown much stronger compared to their spars before the tournament. Before, her blows were heavy, but now, they were irresistible.

Even the Thousand Rings Unbreaking could only weather one real hit before Cai’s techniques overpowered its conceptual immovability. Ling Qi wondered briefly what could be said of the Cai family that one of their primary arts was a thing of such unstoppable forward momentum.

<I dunno. It’s not exactly a subtle statement,> Sixiang said sarcastically.

Ling Qi allowed herself a small smile. That was true enough. As she swayed to the side, avoiding a two-handed upward blow, the cry of her flying sword rang out in the mist, and the spiral blade shot out from storage, its tip barely a centimeter from Cai Renxiang’s face by the time it had grown solid.

The red silk splashed in stylized wings across her liege’s chest rippled, and embroidered eyes narrowed. Then the world went white as the light around Cai Renxiang blazed. For the barest instant, she saw a faceless, inhuman visage before Ling Qi snapped her eyes shut, drew in her senses, and hurled herself backward.

That technique, Celestial Revelation, was such a pain. It was similar to Deepwood Vitality, but it blocked even the residual on-touch techniques.

Ling Qi silently thanked Sixiang as a pulse of moon qi washed away the worst of the blindness, but her spiritual senses were still blurred and spotty. She drew her flying mist blade back, and it circled her head, letting out a mournful whistle.

“You are growing better at wielding your domain weapon as a part of you,” Cai Renxiang complimented as her vision cleared, and Ling Qi’s cheeks grew pale as she caught sight of the shimmering ribbon of white silk that now fluttered over the other girl’s head. The six silver bells which hung from it chimed gaily, echoing through the ruined pillar forest.

Ling Qi activated Hundred Ring Armament, renewed the effects of Sable Crescent Dancer, and moved as destruction poured down from the sky. Six scintillating beams of light slammed down on the place where she had last stood. Rubble was reduced to powder and dust, pillars shattered, and deep trenches were carved into the earth as the six beams focused on one point and fanned out, chasing her shadowy form through her increasingly ragged mist.

“And that technique is still unfair!” Sixiang yelled, giving word to her thoughts.

Cai Renxiang had taken her domain weapon to the next level already, imprinting a technique into it to enhance the weapon. Now, she had to avoid the searing light of six searching beams cutting off her maneuvering room while still trying to keep away from Cai Renxiang herself. Gritting her teeth, she sent her Singing Mist Blade spiralling out, dancing through the lines of light. The weakness of Cai’s domain weapon was that it was poorly suited to attacking other domain weapons and was relatively flimsy. If she could at least punch a hole or two in it, it would disrupt the lightshow trying to box her in.

Of course, Cai Renxiang herself chose that moment to emerge from a sweeping beam of light with her saber already moving in a rising slash. Her eyes flashed with colorless light, and this time, the searing light and oppressive weight annihilated the anchoring flows of the Hundred Ring Armament. Her technique was powerful, and she had cast it perfectly, but the raw power and corrosive touch of Cai’s light was too much.

The amount of qi the heiress had to pour out was the only consolation she had when the searing edge of Cai Renxiang’s saber shattered her defensive technique and knocked her back into a sweeping beam of light that carved across her back with a hiss like searing metal dropped into cold water. Her qi protected her, rising like misty smoke from her back and shoulders as Ling Qi flickered and vanished.

“Looks like that art still isn’t good enough to stop you though,” Ling Qi, through Sixiang, grumbled, already working to shore up her battered defenses. She would not be able to use Hundred Ring Armament for a time. Even Sixiang could not dispel the technique Cai had used.

“Its presence forces me to spend qi more freely than I would like,” Cai Renxiang replied from somewhere within the dust and dancing beams of light. “There is value in narrowing an opponent’s options.”

She supposed that was true, and if, with the work she had done and the techniques she had learned, Ling Qi could force Cai Renxiang to break out her stronger techniques, then against peers, she should be well off indeed. Ling Qi rallied herself as the beam that had been cutting its way toward her veered off wildly, and she caught the whistling wail of her sword on the wind.

She might not be ready to win, but neither was she someone the heiress could trivially defeat. There was something to be proud of in that, even if neither of them was exactly pulling out their full bag of tricks.

***

Ling Qi lay on her back, breathing heavily as she stared up at the night sky. The smoke and dust had faded, and only a few tattered shreds of mist clung to the shadows of rubble and still standing pillars.

Cai Renxiang was seated a short distance away atop the perfectly smooth stump of a fallen pillar. Her saber lay across her lap, and the heiress silently polished the gleaming surface with a square of dark blue cloth. The maintenance was a purely meditative action, Ling Qi knew.

“I wonder how much the field maintenance guys hate us,” Ling Qi mused.

“Not very much, I should imagine. It is their duty,” Cai Renxiang replied absently, not looking up. “I can imagine that few third realm cultivators whose battle would not wreak some degree of destruction on this place.”

“I suppose,” Ling Qi said, not looking away from the sky. “Why do you choose this field so often though? You might be able to bust through, but fighting here has to be annoying for you.”

“There is a certain catharsis in destruction,” Cai Renxiang explained quietly. “And it reminds me of the costs incurred when violence is required.”

Ling Qi looked to one side and then the other. Ruin and rubble was all that met her eyes. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine for a moment that this was a stretch of woodlands, or perhaps a town. She breathed out quietly.

“I can see your point. Even for a couple of third realms like us, it’s pretty ridiculous. I’m not sure I can picture what a real fight between higher cultivators must be like.” Fragments of tattered memory, a black tide of fur, claw, and fang flickered across her mind’s eye, and she shuddered.

“I was taken in my youth to observe the site of Ogodei’s fall,” Cai Renxiang said. “Even with the spirits of nature reclaiming it, the ruin was obvious. The sight of broken mountains, canyons and craters that stretch for kilometers, and localized storms that simply never end is humbling, but also a warning.”

“I guess that’s why even your Mother puts up with unruly vassals, huh?” Ling Qi asked.

“There is no value in ruling a wasteland,” Cai Renxiang agreed.

There was silence between them before Ling Qi spoke up again. “Still… How does the Duchess stand it? I’m only starting to get the picture from talking and listening, but there’s so much chaos in Emerald Seas, just under the surface. I know I only saw your Mother once but I can’t imagine her standing for it, all this petty bickering, the confused chains of loyalty, and conflicting borders.”

Cai Renxiang was quiet, the only sound she made was the swish of cloth across metal. “You must understand that what exists today is already an improvement. Are you aware that Emerald Seas holds the record for the greatest number of times its dukedom has changed hands?”

“I haven’t studied the other provinces much,” Ling Qi said with a frown. “Obviously, the Bai, Zheng, and Xuan have only ever had one ruling family, but is Emerald Seas really…?”

“With my Mother's ascension, that is four ducal families,” Cai Renxiang replied. “The other provinces which have changed hands are on their second.”

Ling Qi looked at the sky, thinking. She wondered where the capital province fit into that. They were on their third dynasty after all. Of course, all of the Imperial dynasties had continuity, so perhaps that was different. “I remember looking at the historical timelines. There were still millenia of peace between the changes.”

“The Xi and Hui were not able administrators,” Cai Renxiang said. “They rarely interfered with their vassals, and the province suffered for it. In the later Hui period, even the Imperial Peace was only sporadically enforced. To the rest of the Empire, the Emerald Seas was somewhat of a backwater.”

<Nothing wrong with a little chaos,> Sixiang grumbled. <But there were a lotta nightmares back then.>

The Imperial Peace was the law which forbade clans from taking open military action against their peers. It was a basic enough bit of law that even Ling Qi remembered it. Yes, if things had gotten that bad, she could see why things were as they were now.

“I guess just cutting the whole tangled knot would run into that wasteland problem, huh?”

“Quite,” Cai Renxiang replied dryly.

Ling Qi sighed, a twitch of her fingers returning the gold-lined envelope Bao Qingling had given her to the material world as she looked up at the broken seal. She had read it before their spar, but she had put it out of her head. The language was flowery, and it had been couched in a lot of language about trade and resources, including mention of Zhengui, but she could read between the lines.

It seemed that Bao Quan had not been commenting idly when he mentioned the idea of a marriage match when she had met him at the Guo’s gathering during the New Year’s Tournament. He was canny enough not to make any direct mention of such a thing though. She supposed that to him, a fourth realm cultivator, she was as easy to read as a mortal.

“Developing a close alliance with the Bao would probably be the most useful thing I could do to help with the whole mess, wouldn’t it?” Ling Qi asked idly.

“It would not be unwelcome,” Cai Renxiang asked, eyeing the letter in her hands. “Have you been officially approached for such?”

“I think so,” Ling Qi said, eyes tracing the broken wax seal. “It’s just… Even if they’re not pushing for a betrothal contract now, that’s the goal, isn’t it? How do you deal with knowing that you’re going to have to sell yourself like that?”

Cai Renxiang looked down at her, pausing in the polishing of her saber. “I do not understand your difficulty,” she admitted.

“It’s kinda childish, isn’t it,” Ling Qi sighed. What a stupid thing to say to her liege.

“That was not my intent,” Cai Renxiang said, considering her words as she raised the blade from her lap, studying the gleaming curve of the metal. “I was speaking bluntly. Marriage and betrothal are simply business contracts like any other, if generally longer in their terms.”

Ling Qi sat up, eyeing the other girl with a dubious look. “You actually believe that, don’t you?”

<Of course she does. Did you forget who you were talking to?> Sixiang snarked.

“If you are concerned about an imbalance of power from your mother’s experiences, you should know that your talent and my backing will put paid to any such abuses. I will extend the Cai family's resources to reviewing your contract,” Cai Renxiang offered, lowering the blade as pale blue threads began to weave together around it, reforming its scabbard.

Ling Qi stared at her. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the offer, but the offer seemed to miss the point. “There is more to it than that. You’re… There’s supposed to be more to this kind of relationship than that.” It definitely wasn’t supposed to just be business. She hadn’t run away from Mother just to dive right back in.

Cai Renxiang frowned at her. “It is not something to be spoken of in public, but the emotional fulfillment you are speaking of is something to be taken care of on the side. Even Mother does so with Minister Linqin. But I suggest you keep such matters better hidden. You do not have the might to ignore convention as Mother does.”

Ling Qi opened her mouth to respond and then closed it again as her thoughts caught up with the words she had just heard. “What?”

<I have to agree,> Sixiang said faintly.

“It is hardly something to be spoken of in polite company, but most…” Cai Renxiang began.

“No, the bit about the Duchess,” Ling Qi said, not even caring that she interrupted her liege.

Cai Renxiang’s frown deepened. “It is one of her more incomprehensible decisions. She treats the Minister as her wife in most every social situation, often with undue public affection despite the damage the scandal does.”

“Is this something you should be telling me?” Ling Qi asked with alarm.

“Normally not, but for whatever reason, it is public knowledge,” Cai Renxiang said. “Obviously, Mother has some plan to which I am not privy which explains the matter. Perhaps it is because Minister Linqin is effectively the Diao Matriarch, and thus, much more valuable and powerful than my father. I would not speculate too much on matters clearly beyond me. The point is, if you seek… romance, there is no need for that to affect your marriage prospects.”

Ling Qi stared at the other girl, attempting to process the idea of the radiant monster she had met at the tournament expressing “undue public affection.” She failed.

<For once, I’m not going to help you on that,> Sixiang said bluntly.

Ling Qi was thankful. She supposed she should be thankful that the surreality of the words had shaken her out of her fugue. “I will take your words under advisement,” she said faintly.

The dimmed light around her liege brightened for a moment, and the other girl nodded, seeming satisfied. “Good. I hope that you can resolve the matter satisfactorily.” Cai Renxiang glanced up at the sky, and her lips thinned. “It is growing late however. I trust that you will look into the other matter as time allows?”

Ling Qi nodded as she stood up, brushing dust and stone powder from her hands. “Yeah, I want to know what Sun Liling is playing at as well. I’ll keep track of who she talks to at the gatherings.”

“Very good,” her liege replied, all business once more. “Thank you for the spar.”

“Thank you for the spar,” Ling Qi repeated, tucking the letter away. She still had a month or two until she had to worry about the letter and its contents. For now, she had to get back to her own plans. She had several matters of cultivation to finish, and the moon was calling.

Bonus: Snake and Spider 1

It was the taste of corrosion in the air which drew Bai Meizhen’s attention. A familiar scent, which reminded her of home. Where she would sometimes lurk about in the alchemy district to avoid her more aggressive cousins' attentions. A glance to her side revealed the source. A young woman a year or two her elder, who it had taken her a moment to recognize.

The odd Bao daughter, the one who did not fit that clans mold. Bai Meizhen knew of her, but only in the sense that she was vaguely aware of the names and positions of every noble member of the Inner Sect. She studied the girl out of the corner of her eye as they joined the little path leading up to Cai Renxiang’s rented pavilion. It was the silk of her rather mannish clothing giving off that scent. What was… ah, that was interesting.

“Venom infused silk? That is hardly a common style in this region,” Bai Meizhen commented idly, a single sliding step carrying her into polite speaking range. Through her parted lips she tasted the composition of the toxin on her tongue. It was odd, one she didn’t recognize.

The reaction to her words was interesting. A sort of full body twitch too minute to notice without close attention, and a sort of rustling motion in the girl’s qi as she jerked her head to the side. Bao Qingling’s eyes came to rest on her face, but it was subtly awkward, not quite natural. Blindness? No, that wasn’t quite right.

“Not anymore,” Bao Qingling agreed curtly, her tone indicating disinterest.

Bai Meizhen shifted her stance slightly, leaning her head to one side as if examining the other disciple. Sure enough, another twitch and a slightly delayed movement from the girl’s eyes. A nonstandard perception art? That was interesting. It was rare outside old spirit blooded clans like her own. “I see,” she replied, and considered ending it there, but with so much posturing awaiting her, speaking on an actual enjoyable subject seemed tempting. “Is it your own work?”

“Yes, spider silk, with my own custom toxin,” she replied, turning her gaze back toward the path. “I am not accepting commissions at this time.”

How difficult, Bai Meizhen mused. “I would not wish to commission incomplete work regardless.”

That drew a sharp look. “And what about it is incomplete?” She asked coolly.

“The corrosion effect is too strong, the silk will decay in a matter of days,” Bai Meizhen replied matter of factly.

“...The shelf life is a month at minimum. I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Bao Qingling was starting to scowl.

“I am Bai, do not question my mastery of venoms,” Meizhen sniffed. Really, she had been hoping to discuss the girl’s mixing process and perhaps give some pointers, there was no need to be… huffy.

This time Bao Qingling stopped, staring hard at her through squinted eyes, and Bai Meizhen raised an eyebrow, stopping as well. “...So you are,” she said after a long second. Her tone was grudging.

“I do not doubt the quality of the work, but the intensity is rather high,” Bai Meizhen replied as they resumed walking. “The quality, texture and toughness of the silk is significantly divergent. How is the retention of toxin potency?”

“Seventy five percent,” she replied gruffly. Her fingers twitched with nervous energy. “Still needs workshopping, but progress has been satisfactory so far.” Or so she thought, her tone seemed to say.

The set of her shoulders was less closed off and hostile now though. It seemed she was not so dull as to not recognize actual expertise when it was given. Still, perhaps she had phrased her own criticism poorly.

“The work reminds me of the crafts of certain family artifacts. The quality is not quite there, obviously, but it is an intriguing project, the use of treated spider webbing rather than traditional silk is an interesting twist however,” that should smooth any ruffled feathers.

Indeed, the slouching girl straightened up in obvious pride. It seemed that she was aware of the shadow she worked under. How nice. “You’re too kind. The works of Bai Xiong are treasured masterworks for a reason.”

They were approaching the entrance now though, and the conversation needed to be on hold. Cai Renxiang and Ling Qi were there, greeting guests.

“Miss Bai, Miss Bao,” Cai Renxiang greeted formally as they stepped inside. “Welcome to my hall. You honor me with your presence.”

“Thank you very much for coming,” Ling Qi echoed. “I hope that you find the afternoon enjoyable.”

“And I am honored by your invitation,” Bai Meizhen replied evenly, she could not help but give Ling Qi an amused look, remembering the sloppy ragamuffin which she had shared her home with a year ago. Some things truly did change. She did her best to ignore the niggling pain in her heart.

“As am I,” Bao Qingling added stiffly, dipping her head with a twitchy jerk. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lady Cai.”

“Thank you for your kind words. Please partake as you will of refreshments while the other guests arrive,” Cai Renxiang replied, gesturing that they were free to pass.

All four of them exchanged the necessary pleasantries and motions as they stepped past. She would have to speak with her friends later, they would be busy for some time, and it would be rude to monopolize the host's time. Which meant…

She could worry about her duties later. She had been having a pleasant conversation.

“I would be interested to see the reaction of your silk to some Bai venoms,” Bai Meizhen resumed as they approached the refreshments. Poison craft was something of a hobby of hers. While all Bai were instructed in the basics of the art in order to make the cultivation of their arts more efficient, it was a little beneath a White Serpent to perform material alchemy past childhood. Although, not unacceptably so if it was for personal use.

“Is that so,” Bao Qingling replied, sounding slightly suspicious. “I don’t mean any insult to your knowledge, but why the sudden interest?”

Because she was lonely, a quiet part of Meizhen’s mind whispered. Because she saw how Ling Qi flitted between groups of friends, and she wanted that too. Why shouldn’t she have someone to discuss her hobby with. “Poison crafting is not a much honored art in Emerald Seas. It is not something which I have had much opportunity to discuss or practise with peers.”

“Well, not going to refuse advice from a Bai,” Bao Qingling said grudgingly, accepting a cup of cider from the server at the table. “If you’re right about the silk anyway.”

“I shall expect your message in three days time then,” Bai Meizhen said, smiling thinly.

“Hmph,” the girl grumbled. “Well, I need to go Miss Bai. I have things to do at this… party.”

“I as well,” Meizhen sighed as they turned away from each other. She did hope that Bao Qingling would contact her.

***

“I believe I have discovered the source of the issue,” the dangerous creature standing over her work table said placidly.

Bao Qingling felt the shift in familiar air currents as the other girl moved, even as she worked on the skein of silk forming on her loom. The fact that her work had been flawed still stuck in her throat like a bitter pill with a flawed casing. “Is that so,” she said flatly. “Well, what is your insight?”

Bao Qingling did not like being off balance. She did not like uncertainty. She did not like mysteries. Usually this was not a problem. Her fellow disciples assumed that her brusque manner implied a lack of understanding, of simplicity.

No, she understood most of them perfectly well. That was why she held them in such contempt. However, Bai Meizhen was refusing to be categorized properly, and it irked her.

“It is a flaw in your approach to the subject as a whole,” The girl said, speaking words which effortlessly and openly insulted her. Yet there was no malice in them. Bao Qingling’s fingers twitched in agitation as she spun on her heel, looking down at the pale white blob occupying her lab. If that were her only sense, then she would have shot back a barb of her own.

But Bao Qingling had stopped relying on her eyes a long time ago. The delicate sense-threads of Qi which radiated from her meridians shuddered and vibrated. The nigh invisible hairs of her body prickled despite the thick clothing she wore. All because she had focused on that girl.

She was an abyssal vortex, descending into the depths, and her current commanded both attention and respect. Bao Qingling was the stronger of them, for now, but she was pragmatic enough to know the power of blood. This was a temporary state of affairs at best.

“Explain,” she said curtly. She did not understand this woman’s purpose. She was not interested in a commission. She was not interested in denigrating Bao Qingling, else she would have voiced the flaw at the party. She did not seem to simply be bored and playing, as some highborn individuals seemed to do.

Everything Bao Qingling understood about social interactions indicated that she was merely seeking to indulge a shared hobby, but that was absurd. There was obviously some factor she was missing. Were the Bai seeking something in regards to the routes which ran through Bao lands? If so, this was an odd way to go about it. What were…

“You began from the basis of a medicinal cultivator. This has resulted in a serious flaw in your mixtures. You treat poisoncraft as an extension of medicinal arts,” Bai Meizhen replied, derailing her thoughts.

Bao Qingling narrowed her eyes, her foot tapping impatiently. Replies tripped over one another in her thoughts as she examined the words for meaning, picking them apart. Discard condescension, habitual affectation. Implication of some insight available to the Bai not available in the public archives which had formed her own foundation. “How is it not?” she asked bluntly. “Poison is merely the principals of medicine turned to harm.”

“Not inaccurate in some ways, and sufficient for most projects. Certainly both crafts require a similar understanding of the anatomy of body and spirit,” Bai Meizhen replied. There was a whisper of moving air, and then Bao Qingling scented the faintly acidic smell of her fourteenth test batch. She must have unsealed a vial. “However, this mindset leads to you having integrated the concept of excess into your mixtures. This batch in particular, your final mix, is merely a heart soothing medication with it’s potency raised to the point where it will cause a fatal slackening and loss of pressure in the veins.”

Bao Qingling’s foot stopped tapping. Bai Meizhen’s voice was pleasant when tinged with excitement. Discard. “...The corrosion is caused by the inclusion of the concept of excess. Despite all of the safeguards.”

“Indeed so,” Bai Meizhen replied. There was a faint sizzling and a fluctuation in qi as the other girl drew the venom from the vial with a flick of her finger, a glittering cord of liquid visible in Bao Qingling’s spirit senses. “So while the quality and potency of the toxin is high, it is unsuitable for the task of envenoming organic fiber. Such a conceptual element is incompatible with materials with lives shorter than stone or metal.”

Such a simple but fundamental error. So much wasted time. “It should be possible to reinforce silk to have a similar lifetime,” she said slowly. “But the conceptual excess will constantly damage such safeguards. It would be possible to counteract this but it would be…”

“Inefficient,” Bai Meizhen said, overlapping her words.

She stared at Bai Meizhen in silence for several seconds. “And what is the secret I am missing, then Lady Bai,” this was likely the end of it. Her curiosity satisfied, Bai Meizhen would take her leave, and Bao Qingling would have to begin reconstructing her projects from the ground up. Again. Perhaps this time Father could be persuaded to make the purchases which he had previously rebuffed, even with her increased allowance she could not afford the texts she wanted without dangerously curtailing her cultivation.

“Oh, the root of it is simple enough. It is hardly a secret. You must develop your venoms from the beginning with only the intent to harm and no thought to any beneficial effects; to inflict suffering and cripple to the exact extent which you desire and no more,” there was a shift in the pale blob, and an odd vibration through her strands. “It will require some shift in mindset, but I am willing to assist you, should you desire.”

That was… self consciousness, at the end there. As if accepting her offer of assistance as a scion of the Bai was Bao Qingling doing her a favor. Nonsensical.

But could she really afford to reject it, no matter what plot lay beyond?

Threads 36 Three Moons 1

Cultivation always made time fly by.

It was frustrating, Ling Qi could admit. Days could pass by without her noticing while she spent time whirling and dancing among the faded stones of a long dead city to the music of dreams and the cheers of her spirits, advancing toward and achieving the fourth revel of the Phantasmagoria of Lunar Revelry. Only Hanyi’s declaration of boredom and Sixiang’s sheepish agreement that they had lost track of time allowed her to pull herself free from the raucous cheers of the revel’s phantoms.

The cultivation of spirit and body was no different. She knew if she were not careful, she could lose whole weeks to her efforts, drinking in the qi of the stars and shaping it through spirit and body. Still, these were not new problems.

As she advanced it became easier to lose hours instead of minutes, but it remained an issue that she had solved before. Ling Qi was careful to break up her cultivation with time spent on and interacting with the real world. She studied the lines of the noble families of Emerald Seas, she took trips to market with Xiulan, Meizhen, or both of them, and she stopped by Li Suyin’s home to offer encouragement as the girl prepared for her final push to break through to the third realm.

She also spent time at home, coaching her Mother through the first steps of physical cultivation or taking her turn to read bedtime stories to her little sister. Zhengui and Hanyi helped as well, though it was mostly the latter. Left to his own devices, Zhengui could take day-long naps without missing a beat, but Hanyi’s energy and wandering attention was good for keeping him active.

Of course, because she had spent a good portion of her Sect Points in the month before, she had to dedicate at least some of her time to earning more, so that she could once again peruse the more powerful elixirs and pills turned out by the Sect’s pillmakers. She tutored Xiao Fen again, and her other sect jobs, which took her all over the Sect, proved profitable enough, even beyond the Sect Point rewards.

During them, she discovered a breathtaking series of cliffs where wind spirits flew and played through funnel-like holes worn in the rock that made the land whistle with natural music, and deeper in the mountains, she found an isolated basin filled near to the brim with water, forming a crystal clear lake of unnatural stillness. Few beasts were foolish enough to attack her during her travel, so Ling Qi found herself gathering less disagreeable reagents for later sale. It was a minor sum, hardly necessary with the windfall she had received for selling that disturbing mirror, but even so, there was no point in waste if she had the opportunity.

Every night though, the moon stared down at her, as if in expectation, but her meditations brought no new insight. More and more, there was a strange tingling sensation in the back of her mind that only grew more potent every time she sat down to cultivate. Instead, Ling Qi found her eyes drawn to the table where she had set up the map of the Sect. There was somewhere that she needed to be, her instinct told her, and the map would be key.

She sought through one map marker after another. The first markers turned up crumbling ruins, little more than a few broken stones still laying in the same vicinity. When she returned home to look at the map again, she found her eyes drawn to a marker that she was quite sure had not been there before. It hardly stood out, a single mountain peak surrounded by stylized “eight” characters. She supposed that was as close to a sign as she was going to get.

Ling Qi searched the whole of the mountain, enhancing her senses with her arts. But even aided by Sixiang, she found nothing special, no mysterious temple at the peak, no strange formations or vestiges of dream. Indeed, there was only one thing upon the whole of the mountain.

“You’re sure you don’t remember anything about this place?” Ling Qi asked suspiciously as she alighted on the crumbling cliffside.

“I’ve got nothin’,” Sixiang confirmed on the wind, peering out from behind her eyes.

“It’s so dirty,” Hanyi complanied as she materialized off to Ling Qi’s left, her bare feet kicking off the edge of Zhengui’s shell where she sat.

“There’s nothing even a little tasty looking here,” Gui confirmed dubiously, peering back and forth. “At least the last place had the tasty moss.”

Ling Qi huffed out a small laugh, remembering the comical sight of Gui awkwardly gnawing on a chunk of rock, trying to get at the moss clinging to it without filling his mouth with pebbles. Peering ahead, she could not disagree with their assessment. A crumbling path, missing more than half of its cobblestones, led back into what looked to have once been a grove of cherry trees. Now, only a single sad and withered specimen rose from the moldering logs and stumps that characterized the rest.

Much like the grove, the structure set in the back of the ruined grove was no grand ruin, just a crumbling foundation and a partial frame built of wood so old that it was halfway to being stone. Ling Qi felt her eyes tingle as she activated her arts, but there truly was nothing here.

“Zhengui, Hanyi, follow me to the end of the path, then keep watch, okay?” she asked absently as she began to walk toward the ruin. Her map and her instincts had led her here; there had to be something.

With her spirits’ affirmations in her ears, Ling Qi began to search the ruined building. Leaving Hanyi and Zhengui at the end of the path, she began to pick her way through crumbled wood and fallen roof tiles, sweeping her gaze across the debris in search of anything of interest. Eventually, her search took her behind where the building had been into an overgrown yard.

Here, she found an artificial pond. Its bottom was lined with tiles in a mural depicting the cycle of the moon. Many tiles were cracked or missing however, and water weeds and muck pushed crumbling stone apart. Frowning, Ling Qi peered down into the water.

“It’s taken you long enough, Ling Qi,” a teasing voice whispered, tickling her ear with its closeness.

Ling Qi spun around, alarmed at the strange, floaty feeling spreading through her body, the mist that seemed to have consumed everything more than a meter away, and the clouding of her vision by strands of glittering starlight, only to hear a surprised yelp and a splash. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something bewildering. She saw Sixiang, fully physical, climbing out of the pond, spitting water and looking rather put-out.

Then, she realized the source of the strands clouding her vision. She was standing backward inside of her own body, which stood frozen in perfect stillness, just like the world around them.

She heard tinkling laughter and looked up to see three figures resolving in the mist. To her right stood Xin, giving her an amused but apologetic smile. She wore her gown of red and blue, and her silver hair hung loose in a phantom wind.

Directly in front of her was a tall and willowy woman clad in pale grey silk, her long, inky-black hair tied back in a braid that wrapped twice around her neck and hung down from her shoulder. Her gown was a gauzy thing of billowing silk, cloaking the movements of her limbs. Behind the woman’s black veil, only a wide grin was visible.

Last of all, to her right was a matronly woman with glittering eyes, so much like Sixiang, save for her age and overt femininity. She wore an elaborate gown with a high feathery color, her hue-changing hair woven into a complex web of ornaments.

“Do not tease the girl. A lady is free to be fashionably late,” the rightmost spirit said lightly.

“Hmm... I thought I heard something, but you didn’t say anything, did you, Hidden?” the veiled spirit asked in a sing-song voice.

“Oh, do stop, Grinning. It is hardly unheard of for a human to be aligned with three of us,” Xin said, her manner every inch the put-upon older sister. “I am glad you made it, Ling Qi. It would hardly do for you to waste your potential with an incomplete cultivation art.”

Ling Qi glanced around her, unsettled by the stillness of the misty world she had found herself in. She allowed herself to be comforted by the sight of Sixiang, their expression disgruntled but not fearful. It struck her as odd that all the world would be frozen, but the pool was not. But wait, the waters had stopped moving, ripples freezing in time. Had they really…?

“If you do not use your world-bending power for a bit of fun now and then, there isn’t much point to it,” the veiled spirit said lightly. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that.”

Ling Qi began to reply but paused. “No, I haven’t. Where are my other spirits?”

“Bold as brass,” the Grinning Moon mused. “Let it not be said that you haven’t changed in good ways as well.”

“Zhengui and Hanyi have not been harmed,” Xin soothed. “That said, Dreaming, if you would…?”

“Of course. We can afford a few more guests,” the third spirit said, dipping her head. Somewhere inside her voluminous sleeves, a pair of fingers snapped.

Ling Qi blinked as a sudden weight pressed down on her head followed by a squeaky yelp as it fell off. Reflexively, she reached out to catch it and found herself staring down at Zhengui, shrunk to a size only barely larger than he had been at hatching.

“Wha- Huh?” Gui chirped in confusion.

“Why am I, Zhen, little again?!” his other half hissed in distress, peering around. “Big Sister, what has happened?!”

“Serves you right,” Hanyi huffed at her side. “Auntie Xin is messing around again, huh?”

Ling Qi almost did a double take when she looked down at her other spirit. Patches of Hanyi’s skin were blackened and cracked, particularly on her feet and legs, but Hanyi didn’t seem uncomfortable.

“Nothing physical about where we are right now,” Sixiang said quietly, as if reading her thoughts.

“Auntie Xin, huh?” the Grinning Moon said in amusement. “The new you is a real homebody. I wonder, did you see this fate for yourself, Archivist of Vice?”

“Some of the best things in the world come to us as surprises,” Xin replied evenly. “I will thank you not to use that name, however, little sister. I have a secret or two that I am sure you do not want aired after all.”

As the Grinning Moon raised her hands in mock surrender. Ling Qi cleared her throat. “Ah,. Honored Spirits, are you all really... Um.” She struggled to articulate her thoughts. It boggled her mind that three Great Spirits would come together in one place for her.

“My Sixiang has given you a glimpse behind the curtain, have they not?” the Dreaming Moon queried, raising an eyebrow. “Each of us are only local spirits, actor’s masks through which our Greater Selves might peer, and even then, this is not the whole of our being.”

“Time and space can be a funny old thing when you cut out the material,” the Grinning Moon said. “So worry not. I’ve still got an eye on the province’s urchins and sneaks.”

“You’re not even interrupting dinner,” Xin said. “For which I am glad. I managed to drag that old curmudgeon out of his workshop for once.”

Ling Qi felt herself relax a little, brushing her fingers across Zhen’s head as she used to when he was actually this size. That was at least a slightly less intimidating prospect. “What is all this about then?”

“You have nearly completed the Eight Phases Ceremony,” Xin said solemnly.

“The time has come to mold the next step in your journey,” the Dreaming Moon continued, matching her tone.

“No more aping of the eight, but rather, forging your own,” the Grinning Moon said seriously before shooting a sly look at Dreaming. In a much more irreverent voice, she added, “Of course, there really should only be two of us.”

“Are you, of all spirits, decrying a follower for a bit of indecision?” the Dreaming Moon asked blandly.

“Sisters,” Xin sighed. “Can we not maintain at least a little bit of decorum?”

“Wrong grouping for that!” the Grinning Moon laughed.

At Ling Qi’s side, Hanyi rolled her eyes. “I guess all aunties are silly.”

“I still don’t know what’s going on,” Gui grumbled petulantly, glancing up at Zhen jealously as the little snake leaned into Ling Qi’s absent petting.

“You don’t even know,” Sixiang sighed.

Glancing at the three incredibly potent spirits before her bickering like any other trio of sisters in the world, Ling Qi felt her own patience for decorum slipping away. The part of her that remembered just what they were wondered if that was the point. “So, what do I need to do?”

“Why, you get to participate in our little night out,” said the Grinning Moon, spreading her arms wide.

“We will show you scenarios and allow you to make decisions, which will be the foundations of your own phase,” Xin elaborated.

“Do not treat it lightly though,” the Dreaming Moon admonished. “Though the dream might be fleeting, the truth it reveals in yourself will last long past the morning.”

“I know that,” Ling Qi said. She still remembered the Bloody Moon’s dream.

“Then let’s get started, shall we?” the Grinning Moon asked rhetorically. Turning away, she raised her hands and brushed the mist away, revealing a sheer cliff beneath which stretched what seemed the whole of the province. Ling Qi could see the cities and villages of Emerald Seas, huddled circles of light and smoke crouching amidst a vast sea of green. It struck her then just how scattered and fragile those lights seemed.

“We have picked out a few venues. That will be your first decision,” the Dreaming Moon said.

“Do not worry about excluding any of us,” Xin chuckled, a knowing look in her eyes. “One way or the other, all three of us have our parts within you.”

Ling Qi looked out over the cliffs and saw the crumbling city of Tonghou, turned inward, shrinking by the decade, lit by the light of a grinning crescent, a gleaming tower of light and wood, vast beyond easy comprehension, a bastion of power that cast deep shadows even under the lightless moon, and a little village in the hills, new and yet old, built upon layers of bones but peaceful and full of laughter under the light of a waning moon.

In the end, neither the majesty of the tower nor the joy of the village could hold her eye. Despite the fact that her experiences there seemed like they had happened in a different lifetime, they kept coming back to haunt her. Whether it was old fears clawing their way to the surface, the connections of family, or simple old habits, the source was the same.

It all came back to Tonghou.

“You don’t have to, you know. You don’t have to go back to resolve things,” Sixiang said.

“I know. But I suppose I just want to see it all with fresh eyes,” Ling Qi replied before raising her eyes to meet Xin’s. “You have my answer.”

Xin smiled understandingly. “Very well. Allow me to-”

“Ha, I knew, it! Road trip time, ladies!” the Grinning Moon announced, pumping her fist into the air. Ling Qi had only a moment to blink in confusion before the wind kicked up and carried her and her spirits off the cliff.

Threads 37 Three Moons 2

Ling Qi yelped, clutching Zhengui to her chest as she tumbled head over heels into the open sky. Hanyi laughed as she tumbled through the air beside her.

It was nothing like the controlled flight she was used to. Ling Qi spun, bobbed, and drifted on the breeze like a leaf caught in a windstorm as the province rushed by beneath them. Yet for all their speed, the rush of wind never became the howling gale that it should have been. Their wild flight took some getting used to, but as Ling Qi regained her bearings, she found it exhilarating rather than alarming.

Despite her nerves at their destination, she found herself letting out a breathless laugh as Hanyi bumped against her and sent Ling Qi spinning away in the wind. She saw the little spirit stick out her tongue mockingly as she floated away on a gust.

“Well, we can’t let her get away with that, can we?” Ling Qi asked, feeling a little light-headed.

“Yeah, go get her, Big Sister!” Gui squeaked.

“Let me give ya a hand,” Ling Qi heard Sixiang say as she felt the spirit's hands on her back. The shove that followed launched her through the air after the laughing Hanyi.

Ling Qi could not be sure how long their trip lasted. It all seemed to blur together in a haze of fun and laughter. Yet however long it was, it did still come to an end as the wind deposited them on the side of the main road leading into Tonghou.

Ling Qi frowned as she felt the giddiness fade and her trepidation return with the sight of those weathered gates. “Did you do something to us?” she asked as Hanyi and Sixiang alighted beside her.

The three spirits, which had seemed to disappear during the flight, once more stood around her, Grinning at the front and the other two flanking her. “I put you wholly in the moment for a bit there,” the Grinning Moon answered without remorse. “I figured you could use a lil’ fun since you're so down about revisiting the old haunts.”

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Ling Qi grumbled. Despite herself, she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry. Already, she found herself looking wistfully back at the simple joyful energy she had felt during the flight.

“The pain is in the past. What has been lost is already lost; all that remains is what you gained from it,” the veiled spirit said, her airy voice surprisingly serious.

“Never shy from your own experiences. They are the most precious secrets of all because it is from them that you are built,” Xin added solemnly.

“There is no dreaming ambition that does not arise from yearning and want. It is in examining a dream’s seeds that their meaning becomes clear,” the Dreaming Moon finished.

Ling Qi frowned, peering at the open gates of the city and the trickle of foot traffic going in and out. People walked around or in the case of the three spirits, through them without notice.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Hanyi asked, wrinkling her nose. “There’s way too many people, and it’s so smelly.”

“Yeah, I think we do,” Ling Qi said quietly. “Sorry, Hanyi. You’ll have to put up with it for a bit.”

“Do not fear, Big Sister. I, Zhen, will set aflame any who bother you,” the little serpent announced. The arrogant voice he had adopted since his breakthrough sounded absurd in his childish voice. She smiled and stroked his head anyway.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced to her right where Sixiang stood. The spirit gave her a lopsided grin of encouragement.

Ling Qi closed her eyes for a moment and breathed out. Tonghou really couldn’t hurt her anymore. Not only had she grown far beyond these streets, but also she was never alone. She wasn’t the frightened little girl wishing for warmth in the depth of winter. Not any more.

“Let’s take a stroll then,” she said, taking her first step toward the gates.

“That’s my girl,” the Grinning Moon said fondly, walking backward through the crowd ahead of her. “Time to see the sights.”

Though she had not often strayed near to the gates when she was a mortal, Ling Qi still knew the district by sight, and Ling Qi found that Tonghou had not changed. Oh, some of the merchant stalls had been shuffled around, windows had been broken or fixed, and other details shuffled about, but it struck her how little things had changed. After a year and change in the Sect, her life would have been unrecognizable to the her of the streets, yet for everyone else in Tonghou, last year was the same as this one.

Street toughs still strutted confidently in streets where the guard failed to tread, shops still ran, and people still worked. Most of all, the air of malaise which infused the whole outer district and hung over every person’s shoulders remained unchanged. Ling Qi had forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by people who, in their every motion, betrayed the hopelessness of those who saw no opportunity for improvement. Even the mortals in the village of the Sect did not have that missing spark of drive.

Ling Qi’s new knowledge didn’t improve matters. The city’s inner wall was mighty and formidable, and power thrummed through the stone. She could see now that the outer wall was a pathetic thing though, warded enough to keep common beasts and spirits out but little more. Her stomach turned as she recognized what would happen if the city was ever under real threat.

It felt jarring to watch the Grinning Moon dance through the crowds, spinning and sliding, flitting from roof to hanging sign to tattered awning seemingly without a care. The other spirits were more reserved. Dreaming glided through the dirty streets in a blur of rustling cloth, pausing now and then to trace her fingers over a person’s temples, drawing forth wisps of multihued smoke. Even Xin only looked around with a sense of polite interest, peering into shaded windows and regarding some of the haggling market sellers with amusement.

“Why does none of this bother you?” she finally asked as she watched a commotion break out. A ragged young man a few years her junior broke through the crowd to flee from a pair of burly merchant’s guards. Even as she watched, the boy managed to slide under a passing wagon that had momentarily sped up, temporarily blocking the street and giving him a precious few seconds of lead, earning a laugh from the Grinning Moon. “You say that you watch out for people like that, but you could do a lot more, couldn’t you? Is it just because we entertain you?”

“It’s because you are not dolls anymore that I do not do more,” the Grinning Moon said, perched like a piece of temple statuary on an awning overhead. “I love those who get by on their wits, the ones who strive no matter how poor their circumstances. Would you have me make of them dancing puppets once more? I could no more do that than you could eat your own arms, little sister. Be glad for the limitations of spirits. It was the greatest gift you were ever given.”

Ling Qi grimaced at the answer, understanding, but not liking it all the same

“There is no secret logic behind the world, no meaning or thought that guides it from above,” Xin said absently. “Though it is at its most obvious with cultivators, each of you shapes the world with your actions and thoughts, echoing and refracting from the ripples of others’ actions. Great Spirits are merely the greatest of these ripples.”

“Humans weave their own strings, forge their own chains, and build their own cages,” said the Dreaming Moon. “It is often easy to see only the misery that you inflict upon each other, but there are few things more wretched and pitiable than a human who is truly alone.”

“We nudge and we encourage and we strive because some part of us was once human,” Xin - no, the Hidden Moon - said, the echo of something greater carrying in her voice. “But those parts have made their mark. It falls to those who still live to make the next.”

“You cannot let misery blind you,” said the Dreaming Moon. “Look, really look, around you. Even here in this crumbling place, humans can burn so bright.”

Ling Qi looked away from the spirits, and for the first time, she really looked at the people around her. She forced herself to look past the veil of her preconceptions. It was true that hopelessness hung over these run-down streets like a blanket, but it was wrong to say that everyone was crushed by it. There were people who moved with a drive, however small. People whose spirits sparked with purpose, even if the fire that those embers might have become had been long since snuffed out. Despite everything, they lived, and Ling Qi knew well the difference between living and survival.

“I just don’t see how it matters when so much just turns out like... this,” Ling Qi said, gesturing to the crowded street.

Above her, the Grinning Moon let out a thoughtful hum. “Once, a long long time ago, there was a little girl who stole the sovereignty of wind from the cruel and fickle gods. I think, if she still lived, she would be amazed that there could even be so many people, let alone that they could build a city so large. That more children did not die of sickness than lived to see their second nameday..”

“Small things are not irrelevant things, and together, even the smallest dreams may bloom in the firmament,” echoed Dreaming.

“The future flows beyond even my sight,” murmured Hidden. “The world is not as it was. Human will is the engine which drives change.”

Ling Qi looked at the Grinning Moon. “Was that girl you?”

“One of many - or perhaps just an old and nameless tale. There’s hardly a difference, is there?” laughed the spirit. “But I think we stray a little from our purpose.”

“I don’t really get any of this,” Hanyi huffed. “It’s just a bunch of boring people doing boring stuff. What are we even doing here?”

“Hang in there, short stuff,” Sixiang laughed, resting a hand on the smaller spirit’s head. “Besides, you can’t know if someone is gonna be boring unless you get to know them.”

Hanyi swatted the hand off her head. “That’d take forever, you dummy! If they can’t prove that they’re interesting, why would you bother?”

“Big Sis, are you okay?” Gui asked, pawing at her gown from his place in the crook of her arm. “You look serious.”

“Oh, is there somewhere you want to be, little sister?” the Grinning Moon asked, leaning down over the awning.

“I think so,” Ling Qi said quietly. “There’s a place I need to see.”

***

Their journey took them away from the city outskirts, where the poorest of Tonghou’s residents lived. It took them inward toward the city’s inner wall. Not past it, of course; that was the realm of the very wealthiest mortals and the nobility. But their destination fell in the shadow of the wall. Nestled amidst theatres, gambling halls and teahouses, her mother’s former place of employment sat. Though it was by no means small, the brightly painted building somehow failed to loom the way that it did in her memories.

In the middle of the day, the red painted lanterns hanging from the entrance awning were unlit, and traffic was slow. A couple of girls no more than a year or two older than her leaned out over the railing of the second floor balcony, calling out and advertising to passersby, inviting them to step inside. From within, the faint strains of music and laughter could be heard. If she were to consider it only in this moment, without the context of her memory, she might even call it pleasant and inviting.

She did not have that privilege. Distantly, she felt her fists clench, and the air grow cold. People in the streets, oblivious to her presence before, shivered and cast glances at the mouth of the alley where she stood, muttering quiet prayers and hurrying on. Just looking at the place turned her stomach, and the pleasant facade only made it worse.

“It does not seem worse than the other establishments nor the dens which we have left behind,” commented the Dreaming Moon. The spirit’s resplendent gown and ephemeral beauty looked faintly ridiculous with her perched on the rim of an old rain barrel.

“Breath, think, and analyze,” the Hidden Moon said somberly, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I will not tell you to let go of your emotions. Instead, understand them, and place them in context.”

“Why did you want to come and see this dump? What were you hoping to gain?” asked the Grinning Moon, lounging atop the cloth awning of the gambling hall across from the brothel.

Ling Qi let out a breath, tightening her grip on Hanyi’s hand. The young spirit glanced up at her questioningly. It was funny how the young spirit seemed completely unbothered, even bored.

“I’m not sure, if I’m honest,” Ling Qi admitted. Her eyes tingled as she allowed a trickle of qi into them and looked again at the place which had been her first home. It was utterly mundane, and that bothered her somehow. The smiles of the girls on the balcony were fake, but no more fake than the enthusiasm of the hawker calling people in to gamble their money away. They were mostly just bored and apathetic. There was some resignation and unhappiness, but…

Where was the misery that she remembered?

“You know by now that memory can be a funny thing,” Sixiang said quietly from their seat on the opposite side of the rain barrel that their grandmother had claimed.

It was true, if she thought about it objectively. The terrible memories she had could not possibly cover the full span of time which she had spent here. Yet, they had happened. She remembered the bruises on her mother’s neck and arms. She remembered some of the vile men she had seen, arrogantly doing whatever they liked without any pushback. She remembered the girl struck by an off-duty guard.

“Violence is hardly uncommon, even unprovoked violence upon the helpless, and it was not without consequence,” Xin said softly.

Ling Qi glanced her way. She would trust the spirit’s word on that. Yet, she found herself remembering things that she had forgotten. She remembered her mother and the owner talking, and other girls contributing coppers to a growing pouch. She never had seen that girl again, which had seemed sinister, but…

“Do you know what happened to the girl?”

“She recovered on the back of communal funds,” Xin began.

“She purchased an apprenticeship with a seamstress using the restitution paid from the guard’s fine,” the Dreaming Moon continued absently.

“Never got her smile back though,” the Grinning Moon said flippantly. “If ya know what I mean.”

It didn't make things better, but it surprised her all the same. She had become so inured to the idea that the people who went in could do as they liked that the idea that one had suffered even mild punishment surprised her.

Ling Qi frowned, focusing her senses once more. A twinkling light blinked into existence before her eyes and began to drift across the street. She would not - could not - make herself step across that threshold, but she didn’t need to any longer, did she?

Remembering the lessons of the Argent Mirror art, she forced herself to remain dispassionate as she looked inside. What she saw fit the general shape of her memories. On the first floor was the common area where a tired older woman played competently on a guzheng. Most of the tables and booths were empty, but here and there were customers, men being served drinks and fawned over by younger girls, smiling empty smiles and laughing empty laughs.

But when she looked at the customers, she saw that they were just as empty as the girls. Sad, lonely, exhausted, worn down by one thing or another, seeking fulfillment in people who had none to give. It was a sickening sort of parody. A few even deluded themselves into thinking that the girls felt something genuine for them. That is, something other than a low level of fear anyway. She couldn’t, even in her forced dispassion, feel real sympathy.

In the end, the customers were the ones who held all the power, and the girls simply had to play to their wants. It wasn’t as if her memories lied. Even at this slow time of day, there were some who could see their own power and reveled in it. She knew without looking, just from the ambient qi, that she would find nothing different on the second or third floors where the workers lived and rooms were rented out for more intimate services. It was all just emptiness and exploitation in different trappings.

It still made her skin crawl. She still hated it and what happened inside. But the special horror it had once held seemed a little washed out now. If she compared it to the things she had seen in the streets, could she really say that it was uniquely horrible? In the end, it was the powerful enforcing their will on the weak, just like everywhere else. The men who got away with hurting were the ones rich or connected enough to make enforcing the rules unprofitable.

Somehow that bothered her in a way it hadn’t before.

It was funny in a twisted sort of way that the cultivator had been the one who actually got punished. She wasn’t sure what to think of that. Leaving that aside, running away really had been a sideways step, hadn’t it? Whether in a fancy brothel or a dark alley, she had to debase herself to survive. Virtue and vice were luxuries to be considered when she had a full belly and a warm blanket.

She certainly had that now. She would not allow herself to feel shame about her mother nor the people she had hired any longer, no matter the sneering she got for it. They were people who her mother considered important. And in the end, they were people who had picked the poison they were willing to swallow in the name of survival, just like her.

She thought back to what Cai Renxiang had said when she had first told her of the decision to hire them. She could see the truth in the girl’s words. To her, it may be a gross, unpleasant job, but there was no inherent shame in it.

“Okay,” Ling Qi said. “I’m sorry for side tracking us. I’ve seen enough.”

“Time is hardly an issue,” Xin said in amusement.

“In the end, this is your journey,” the Dreaming Moon said.

“Still, I think this has been enough walking. Feeling up for a run?” the Grinning Moon asked, leaping down from the awning where she had been lounging.

Ling Qi raised her eyebrows in consternation, no longer interested in the sad tableau across the street. The memories that clung to this place remained and she could not say that they were behind her, but the location itself was almost incidental. “I guess? I know I’m not really physically present, but if I go rushing through the streets, won’t people notice?”

The spirit’s ever-present grin just widened.

Threads 38 Three Moons 3

Ling Qi smiled despite herself as Hanyi let out a last excited woop from her perch on Ling Qi’s back. She landed, her legs bending to absorb the impact as she came to a stop on the roof of one of the little mansions that lined the quiet avenues of the inner city. With how busy she had been, Ling Qi had forgotten some of the simple joy that could come from just moving. Her muscles and qi channels burned as she dashed at full speed, trying her best just to keep the flitting silk-shrouded figure of the Grinning Moon in sight as they raced atop rooftops and walls.

Sixiang landed beside her with a thump, pitching face forward onto the roof tiles. “Changed my mind,” Sixiang gasped out, voice muffled by the tiles. “Dun’ want a body anymore.”

“Ah, what a lax grandchild. How shameful,” sighed the Dreaming Moon as she alighted on the roof’s edge, the parasol which had carried her floating along behind them dissolving in her hands.

Ling Qi nudged Sixiang with her foot, eliciting a groan. “It wasn’t that bad. We were only running for an hour or two,” she said. In reality, the passage of time seemed incongruous; the sun had barely moved, but surely her game of tag with the Grinning Moon had taken more than a few minutes.

“I, Zhen, am getting tired of being small again,” the little serpent grumbled petulantly, still tucked under Hanyi’s arm.

“Gui agrees for once,” said his other half, sounding cross.

“Pfft, even if you were big, you’d be too slow,” Hanyi scoffed.

“So are you!” they both cried out in affront

“I don’t need to be,” Hanyi replied smugly. “Since Big Sis can give me rides like this.”

Ling Qi glanced back at them, and Hanyi smiled angelically.

Xin emerged from her shadow then, rising like a bubble of ink before resolving the details of her body. “Athletics aside, is your head clear now, Ling Qi?”

“I think so,”Ling Qi replied. The tension had flowed out of her during the chase, and she found herself feeling serene and clear-headed once more.

“Good, because it’s time to make a choice,” said the Grinning Moon, who perched on one foot atop the peak of the roof. “We’re going to do something fun, but the nature of the game is up to you.”

“We have deliberated amongst each other and come to an agreement on three games,” said the Dreaming Moon.

“And the final choice is yours,” Xin finished.

Ling Qi said flatly, “You’re going to have me choose between cryptic metaphors for whatever we’re actually going to do, aren’t you.”

“Hazard of the company,” Sixiang grumbled, sitting up with a grimace.

“Now you’ve gone and taken the fun out of it,” the Grinning Moon pouted. “Fine. We can be direct too. In my choice, we’ll be going to a place where the dullards at the top of this heap would much rather we not go.”

“In mine, we will see to the spread of an art too long forgotten and suppressed,” said the Dreaming Moon, her smile catlike and predatory.

“And in mine, we will see that a certain secret makes its way to the appropriate ears,” the Hidden Moon said somberly, speaking once again through Xin.

Ling Qi glanced between them. She sensed a certain crossover in portfolios for these games. Also, they were still being annoyingly vague.

Ling Qi considered the choices before her. The more she thought on it, the more she began to see the places where the phases began to overlap and blend into one another. She felt like she was beginning to better understand the nature of the moon. She looked to the Dreaming Moon, balanced with inimitable poise on the edge of the roof.

Ling Qi closed her eyes, shutting out the world to think more clearly. Though, here, in Emerald Seas, she was the sponsor of wild spirit bacchanals and impropriety, the Dreaming Moon itself was more than that. The Dreaming Moon was the unrepressed expression of self with all the good and bad that implied.

The Grinning Moon, too, was not just the thief and the flighty fairy. If the Dreaming Moon looked to the future and the Hidden Moon looked to the past, the Grinning Moon exulted in the now. She was the joy in motion and the rush of triumph over long odds. She was the satisfaction in drawing a startled yelp from a stoic junior or in bringing down an organization in a single night of frenzied thieving.

The Hidden Moon was the desire for knowledge, and through it, power. It was knowing all of the things that could be threatening and how to counter each and every one. It was looking back on her past and not letting her bile overwhelm her when she examined those memories to see how they had shaped her and how that related to material reality.

In sum, the Grinning Moon was her desire for agency in her own life, of being in control of the world within the reach of her arms. The Hidden Moon was her caution, the desire to build a place of safety, either within or without. The Dreaming Moon was her desire to grasp for more, seeking always the lights beyond her reach. This was not the whole of them, of course, but Ling Qi was far from being able to embody even one phase. It was what they were to her.

So, when she opened her eyes, she smiled helplessly and dipped her head in apology toward the Grinning and Hidden Moons. “I think I would like to see what art you think is so important that it needs reviving,” she said to the Dreaming Moon.

“You will find, Ling Qi, that an idea need not be a grand thing to shake the world,” the Dreaming Moon replied with a smile. “Much more often, the dreams that invoke change are simple things at the core.”

“You are too quick to spread your secrets, sister,” said the Hidden Moon, wearing Xin’s face. “But one known by none is useless as well, I suppose.”

“We’ll be tweaking noses regardless, so I don’t mind,” said the Grinning Moon. “Shall we resume our stroll?”

“Let’s,” Ling Qi agreed, reaching down to help Sixiang up. “Do you need a piggy back ride too?”

The spirit rolled their eyes as they stood and gave her a gentle jab in the shoulder. “Just ‘cause I don’t have horse legs like you or auntie doesn’t mean I’m a child.”

“Sure you’re not,” Ling Qi smirked.

“Getting a ride doesn’t make me a child,” Hanyi huffed.

“Yeah, it’s not my fault we shrank!” Gui grumbled.

Ling Qi smiled absently as they leaped down into the streets. Maybe that was part of why being in this city hurt less now. Not only was she stronger, but even now, she had family here, all around her and a place to go back to.

As the Dreaming Moon led them to their destination, her thoughts wandered to her surroundings. They were in the inner city now, a place she had only glimpsed once or twice on festival days when temples were opened to the public. The streets were cleaner, and the buildings in better repair. There wasn’t a single trash heap or beggar to disturb the scenery.

Yet as she watched first realm cultivators labor and wealthy mortals walk along, full of puffed-up pride, she saw a shade of the same pall that hung over the rest of the city. She wondered if what she sensed was the spirit of the city itself, giving off that inescapable aura of fading and decay.

“Can I only feel this because of you?” she wondered aloud as they went deeper into the city where the buildings grew more elaborate with each block, terminating in the sprawling estate at the city’s center. “If other cultivators could, then…”

“They would wonder what was wrong?” the Hidden Moon finished.

“You feel it far more sharply, thanks to where we are, but it is noticeable to those with the senses to look when they have not grown up steeped in it,” the Dreaming Moon replied from ahead of them.

“Then why hasn’t anyone done anything about it?” Ling Qi asked.

“They’re probably just lazy,” Hanyi said primly, walking beside her, still holding Zhengui.

“That’s not wrong, but it’s too simple,” replied the Grinning Moon. She walked along the manor walls that lined the street, arms behind her back as she balanced on the narrow construction. “They’re comfortable, is all.”

“How can that cause this?” LIng Qi asked, giving the spirit a confused look.

“Well,” said the Grinning Moon, drawing out the word. “Think of it like this. An ambitious person might cause damage in their reaching out, and a cautious person might cause harm in missing opportunities. A comfortable person, someone who is content with how things are - they’ll cause harm by rejecting anything that might impugn their comfort, good or bad.”

Ling Qi looked ahead to where cleanliness and luxury began to give way to outright opulence. Although she could not understand people who chose to simply stop advancing, she also knew that she was unusual in her refusal to rest on her laurels. “Is that really all there is to it? I mean, isn't reaching a point of contentment why most people do what they do?”

“My sister simplifies too much,” the Hidden Moon smoothly interjected. “Just as cowardice is caution in the excess, stagnation is the true vice, not mere contentment."

“When you cease to dream of better tomorrows and seek only an endless string of todays, things have gone too far,” the Dreaming Moon commented absently. “We are here.”

Here, as it turned out, was a small but well appointed building, two stories high and with a tall, peaked roof. Planters and hanging baskets filled with flowers set around the walkway that surrounded the main building filled the air with a sweet scent, but as the Dreaming Moon led them on, they passed the building’s open doors and the shelf upon shelf of books that lay inside.

Instead, they slipped around into the rock garden behind the building where the air’s sweet scent failed to mask the scent of burning paper and leather. Here, a bored looking young man in a scholar’s robes sat upon a stool before a furnace. As she watched, he tossed an old and moldering scroll into it. He either ignored or was unable to hear the faint spiritual wail that echoed in Ling Qi’s ears as he did so. He prodded the crackling paper with an iron poker, stirring the smoldering remains into the ashes.

“Ugh, what a waste,” Sixiang grumbled, giving the man a dirty look as he rummaged through the half-empty crate at his side for another book.

“What’s the point of this?” Ling Qi asked. It didn’t bother her the way it seemed to bother Sixiang, but something in her still twinged at the waste.

“Your Imperial throne has made an initiative of improving libraries in the Empire,” the Hidden Moon explained, watching the rising smoke with keen eyes.

“‘Course, there’s some strings on that.” The Grinning Moon’s smile grew thin. “Gotta get rid of the stuff they don’t like if you want the new hotness.”

“It is not something to concern yourself over just yet,” the Dreaming Moon said. Ling Qi followed her as the spirit approached the furnace, glancing only briefly at the man; he showed no sign of noticing their presence. Her attention returned to the Dreaming Moon as the spirit reached into the fire, swirling her fingers through the rising smoke. A few weak and sparkling lights winked into being, rising from the ashes at the bottom of the furnace to twine around her hand like a cloud of sickly fireflies.

The fire flickered, and the man burning the books shivered, glancing around in concern. He glanced suspiciously at the remaining books in the crate and hurried to shove a new stick of tinder into the furnace, making the flames burn higher and hotter. The Dreaming Moon withdrew her hand and looked on sadly as the lights faded one by one.

All around them, the world seemed to slow down again. The movements of the man, the flickering of the flames, even the wind all slowed and then stopped, color bleeding from the world until only Ling Qi and the spirits remained in motion.

“Is this what we’re doing then? Stealing these books?” she asked.

“No, one way or another, they will burn today,” the Hidden Moon said somberly.

“So, since you picked up my two scholarly sisters, you’re gonna have to do some studying!” the Grinning Moon exclaimed.

“We can only advise and give opportunities. What is passed on is your choice,” the Dreaming Moon said.

Letting go of Hanyi’s hand, Ling Qi reached down to pick up the book on the top of the pile but found it immovable, stuck in place like everything else.

“No, no, it’s not as simple as that,” the Grinning Moon laughed.

The Dreaming Moon spread her arms, and the furnace sprang to life, the flames roaring into an inferno.

“This is not the first burning of knowledge witnessed by this city, and it will not be the last,” the Hidden Moon said. She raised Xin’s hands, and the flames shifted and flowed, dripping downward like water to form steps even as they billowed out, hollowing out until she could see a facsimile of the Sect’s archive shelves forged entirely from flame. Drifting sparks and ash twisted into the shape of words and pages, flickering to the surface only to sink back in a moment later.

“Best get reading, little sister,” the Grinning Moon said brightly, clapping her on the back. Ling Qi had not even seen her move, but she managed not to jump.

Ling Qi cast a wary look on the fiery archive and then to her spirits. “So! Who's ready to help their Big Sister?”

Sixiang laughed, and Hanyi groaned. Zhengui chirped an affirmative of course, but - wait, she had never taught him to read.

... She was going to be here for a while.

Chapter 39-Three Moons 4

Ling Qi ascended the steps into the fiery archive, Sixiang at her side and Hanyi just behind her. The greyed-out, frozen world seemed to fade away behind them until at last they stood inside of the billowing flames. Ling Qi looked around at the flame-wrought shelves that seemed to stretch out beyond her sight in every direction but back. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers across a fiery shelf and found herself surprised when a charred scroll materialized in her hands.

“Alright,” she said determinedly. “Sixiang, Hanyi, we’re going to split up. Don’t worry about trying to look at everything. Just look for things that interest you.” She had a feeling that would be enough in a place like this. Sixiang gave her a nod, and Hanyi grumbled rebelliously but didn’t disagree.

“What about us?” Zhengui asked, his stubby legs kicking uselessly from his spot under Hanyi’s arm.

“You will be coming with me,” Ling Qi replied, reaching down to take him from Hanyi. “Big Sister is going to start teaching you to read.”

It was just good practice to do two things at once if she could. She considered trying to cultivate as well, but something told her that it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t exactly wholly herself right now given that her body was still back on the mountain.

Ling Qi gave her other spirits a nod, picked a direction, and started walking. As she searched the shelves, Ling Qi passed over paintings, tapestries, and other more visual works. She ignored play scripts and dry histories. Unsurprisingly perhaps, she found herself drawn to songs, stories, and poems.

Here and there, she would pluck a scrap of paper from a tongue of flame or a storybook from the inferno of the shelving. Sometimes, she only glanced at them before tossing them aside, but for others, she would read them to Zhengui, pausing to point out the meanings of characters as she read.

As Ling Qi worked her way further toward the dim back of the archive, the language of the works began to take on a slightly archaic edge. Slight twists on otherwise familiar spirit tales began to diverge more and more, and the songs began to take on an almost foreign cadence.

Despite that, she was still surprised the first time she plucked out a song from the flames and found it written in a wholly foreign tongue, if one that was still familiar to her. She remembered deciphering these characters at Li Suyin’s side last year as they translated the book Ling Qi had taken from that shaman. It was the language of the Hill Tribes, people who had dwelled in Emerald Seas in the long past.

However, that didn’t seem right. The more she looked, the more she found works that were a strange dialect that seemed to mix the Imperial tongue with the Hill languages. She found poems in that tongue that were marked with dates from under the current dynasty even, no more than half a millennia old, though they were few indeed.

The picture they painted was a strange one. They told of a people who wandered and settled depending on the season, who sang songs to spirits of wind and rain, and who played games of riddles and wordplay with terrestrial spirits to barter for boons and cultivation. She found herself laughing at silly scraps of legends about silver-tongued tricksters and clever hunters. She found less cheerful songs as well, written in a strange ritual cadence and whispering of clashes with the Horned Gods of the Deep Groves.

Newer stories praised the sun and moon and spoke of the Weilu more as strange neighbors than monsters in the dark, then as allies against the Cloud Tribes of the south. The songs took a turn for the dark though as they grew more modern. Songs of everyday life turned into melodies of war and then subjugation, pages filled with venom for the conquering Xi. From there, the stories began to disappear, and the songs and poems dwindled in number, growing more melancholy and full of nostalgia for the lost past.

The Hill Tribes weren’t the only lost peoples either. Hanyi brought her a book of rough charcoal illustrations in a foreign style, depicting a people that lived in the high snowy mountains who worshipped the lethal and beautiful spirits that lived there and cultivated through exposure to the fierce blizzards that raged on icy peaks. Sixiang brought her scrolls of poetry written in a dozen odd dialects, almost incomprehensible in their familiarity.

Ling Qi thought she had an inkling now as to why Emerald Seas was such a fractured place.

When she at last emerged from the archive with her spirits, Ling Qi held only one work, a scroll made from many hundreds of wooden strips bound together and rolled up. It held a long form poem, one that she had found many, many different versions of spanning a great deal of time. In varying forms, it told the tale of a hero king figure and his two companions, who played the spirits of the land and mighty beasts against each other. They defeated some and won bargains from others, assuring the prosperity of the king's people.

The details varied depending on the version. Sometimes, the king's companions were human; sometimes, they were spirits or something in between. The king’s name and the exact nature of the spirits he bargained with and antagonized changed as well. This version, however, was the oldest one that had seemed “complete” to her.

It had been a difficult choice to make, but…

“Mine was better,” Hanyi said childishly as they descended the steps, drawing her attention.

“Obviously not, or Big Sister would have picked it,” Zhen replied imperiously from his perch on her shoulder.

“Yeah! This story was way better,” Gui agreed.

Ling Qi had found Hanyi’s finds interesting but frankly, disturbing. The unnamed mountain peoples had been rather explicit in their depictions of the various self-mutilations that were part and parcel to their cultivation. She didn’t think herself squeamish, but she didn’t feel regret in knowing that those traditions weren’t a thing anymore among civilized people. She would remember to be much more cautious with spirits like her mentor Zeqing if she encountered them away from the Empire’s influence though.

Sixiang gave her a sidelong look and a smirk. “I don’t completely agree with your choice, but yeah, not gonna argue with you going for those folks instead.”

As they finished speaking, Ling Qi stepped down onto the gravel, coming face-to-face once more with the three moon spirits. The Hidden Moon sat atop one of the larger boulders in the garden, eyes closed in meditation. The Dreaming stood, surrounded by a cloud of dying embers, humming a faint melody that sounded familiar and foreign all at once. The Grinning Moon had taken a seat atop the shoulder of the frozen scholar, balanced impossibly despite her size. The man’s still features were marked by glowing lines of fluorescent ink, irreverently scribbled.

“Is that still going to be there when we leave?” Ling Qi asked with some concern, looking to the veiled spirit.

“Not in a way anyone will notice,” replied the Grinning Moon. “Well, not right away. I’m sure our friend here will go get the bad fortune cleansed after a week or two.”

The Dreaming Moon inhaled, and the embers and lights around her rushed in, vanishing in an instant. “More importantly, you have made your choice?”

“I have,” Ling Qi replied, stepping forward to present the rolled up scroll in both hands.

“And what were the reasons for your choice?” the Hidden Moon asked, opening Xin’s eyes and regarding Ling Qi with interest.

“I feel like having more ways of dealing with spirits out there can only make things better,” Ling Qi answered after some thought, regarding the scroll in her hands. So many of her successes had come from dealing with spirits that it seemed foolish to lose any wisdom relating to the subject. She was hardly a master of wordplay, but studying the poems and songs back there had given her some insight into the behavior of spirits that the sort of rote genuflection, appeasement, or exorcism more common today lacked.

That wasn’t her only reason either. “The ones who wrote this… They weren’t barbarians. Not really. So it’s a shame for everything about them to fade away. This poem seems like the root of a lot of their ideas, so it’s the best for getting a story about them out there, isn’t it?”

The pale tome she had taken from the shaman showed that the Hill Tribes had a darker side too, one better lost, but Ling Qi couldn’t help but remember the little horrors of the city they were in now and some of the things she had glimpsed and seen hinted at in the archive and in the Bloody Moon’s dream. Even the Empire had its darker sides.

The Dreaming Moon stepped forward, accepting the scroll with a thoughtful hum. “Not a choice I would object to, but difference often breeds conflict. Are you certain?”

“You all said it,” Ling Qi said confidently. “Stagnancy brings harm too. Besides -” she paused, glancing up at the stars in the frozen sky, “- things are going to be changing anyway.”

The days when she only had to worry about herself were long over by now. Right now, it was just her family and her household, but that too would change and grow, especially as she assumed her greater responsibilities as a Baroness or perhaps, even greater. Seeing Tonghou again, she could only feel dissatisfied. Cai Shenhua had started to change the Emerald Seas hinted at in the archive, and her daughter was only going to continue these changes. Ling Qi was going to be at its forefront. That was the choice she had made when she accepted Cai Renxiang’s offer. It was about time that she started acknowledging it.

“Good girl,” the Grinning Moon said fondly. “Just remember to keep your eyes on the prize, and when you sow that storm, do it for yourself. Don’t allow yourself to become someone else’s shadow.”

“Remember the small moments, the little secrets that you create each day,” the Hidden Moon added quietly. “See and study the world before your eyes, and do not fail to account for the little details when building your models, nor come to rely on them overmuch. The future can only be predicted, never read.”

“And of course, keep the power of dreams always in your heart. You will not live forever, and in time, your works will crumble and fade. But ideas and dreams…” the Dreaming Moon said quietly, the scroll in her hands dissolving into glittering dust that rose like a cloud of smoke high into the sky before exploding in a thousand directions, “... can always be reborn.”

Ling Qi blinked as the grey, time-frozen world began to dim, and then felt her eyelids droop, a deep exhaustion setting in. Between the flight, the run, and the search through the archive, she was suddenly so very tired. As the world grew dark, the three great spirits dissolved into motes of glinting light that surrounded her like a cloud of fireflies. As Ling Qi’s eyes drifted shut, she reached out and grasped the ethereal green lights of the Grinning Moon.

***

Ling Qi opened her eyes, and her vision swam. Her knees felt weak, and her stomach churned. For just a moment, the peternatural balance and poise that cultivation had granted her wavered, and she stumbled backwards, dizzy, landing on her backside in the grass.

The memories of her time with the spirits in Tonghou crashed home all at once. The joy of flight and running over rooftops, the melancholy of the streets, and the old horror of the brothel. Ling Qi shuddered, her stomach turning as she saw those scenes again, stripped of the strange calm that she had felt throughout that journey. Somehow, being back in her body made her revulsion so much more real, but as she quieted the pounding of her heart in her ears and regained control of her breathing, she couldn’t say that the observations she had made and the conclusions she had come to were wrong.

In the end, Tonghou and its hazards couldn’t hurt her anymore. Stripped of its threat, it really was just a very sad place.

“I won’t say anything about your theme choices,” Sixiang whispered on the wind. “Well. For a week or two at least.”

“You ass,” Ling Qi laughed despite herself, slipping so easily back into rough speech. She clenched her hands and felt something hard and sharp-edged there. Opening her hand and looking down, she saw twin jade slips, one a pure white and the other a light ethereal green. It took only a moment's concentration to peer into them.

The White Jade held the Songseeker's Ceremony. It was the continuation of her current cultivation art, Eight Phase Ceremony, the thing that she had forged through her spirit quest with the aid of three phases of the moon. Though its functions remained unclear to her at her current cultivation, she knew it would be an art that matched with her desires for the future. It would be a cultivation art that rewarded feats of daring, self-expression, and dealings with the spirits of the world. Her cultivation art would be the art of one who seeks the powers hidden in the world and the beauty of songs old and new.

The other was a gift from the Grinning Moon. The Laughing Flight of the Wind Thief told the story of a time before the rule of men when there were only beasts who called themselves gods and a canny young woman who plotted and planned and stole the Sovereignty of Wind. It was a potent movement art, too powerful for her to cultivate just yet, but with a great deal of promise. It seemed almost tailored to succeed her Sable Crescent Step once she had mastered the lessons of that art.

More immediately relevant, as she closed her eyes again and concentrated, she could feel the missing piece of the seventh phase of her Eight Phase Ceremony cultivation art filled in. She understood now how to weave the threads of qi underlying the expression of music and art into cultivation and to improve her efficiency in cultivation she gained from working within the domains of her patrons, Grinning, Hidden, and Dreaming.

Ling Qi stood up, brushing out the wrinkles in her gown as the fabric expelled dirt and grass stains with tiny bursts of wind.

“Biiiiig Siiiister!” She turned as Zhengui’s voice reached her, spying her big little brother stomping through the ruins of the temple. Hanyi waved to her, perched on the edge of his shell in a reversal of their roles in the dream.

As Ling Qi raised a hand to wave back, she caught motion out of the corner of her eye and changed the motion into a grab, snatching the blurring missile that had been flying toward her out of the air. She arched her eyebrows in surprise as she looked down and found a mail construct. Its paper wings were crumbled by her grasp, and its animation was already fading. Bemused, she prodded the seal in the center, and a single tiny square of folded paper appeared.

Baroness Ling, I require your presence at my home. Do not delay. - Cai Renxiang

Ling Qi stared down at the single line of characters in rising concern as Zhengui stomped closer. “Sorry, little brother,” she said faintly. “It looks like we can’t relax just yet.”

Threads 40-Justice 1

Ling Qi arrived at Cai Renxiang’s door only a quarter hour later, having flown straight there. As she stepped through the door, absently chewing a qi restoration pill, her eyes darted around.

There were no immediate threats that she could see, and she could feel the other girl sitting in her study under no external stress at all. The mountain had seemed peaceful during her flight as well. So what was this about? Her liege didn’t normally send notes as dramatic as that.

<It’s not fair. I wanted a snack and a nap,> Gui grumbled.

<Like you even did anything, you big lazy lump,> Hanyi retorted.

<Keep it civil, kids,> Sixiang scolded. <I got a feeling Qi needs to be paying attention.>

Sending Sixiang a silent thanks, Ling Qi stepped inside of Cai Renxiang’s study and offered a low bow to the girl behind the desk. Cai Renxiang was seated in her usual place, resting her cheek on her fist as she stared down at the desktop. It held no stacks of forms and documents now, just a single, long, hinged box made of fragrant, expensive wood and a single open letter.

“Lady Cai, I apologize for my delay. I arrived as quickly as I could,” she said politely, keeping her head low.

“You are excused,” Cai Renxiang replied. “I was aware of your activities.” This was something they both knew, but acknowledging it was part of the game, even if they were alone. Ling Qi was starting to get the hang of these social niceties. “You may raise your head. My honored Mother has given me a task.”

Ling Qi straightened up, giving the letter on the desk a look of renewed concern. The page was pure white and without decoration, but the calligraphy she could see was exquisite. Ling Qi held back a grimace as she felt the echo of displeasure that emanated from those perfectly inked characters.

“I hope that I can be of assistance,” Ling Qi said carefully. “What task does the Duchess have in mind?”

“You are aware of the opening of relations between our province and the Thousand Lakes,” Cai Renxiang opened, drumming her fingers on the top of her desk. She continued at Ling Qi’s nod. “There has been a disturbance on the border. A town in Meng lands has been sacked by bandits.”

Ling Qi’s eyes widened, but her liege continued speaking.

“In addition, a shipment of goods bearing the Cai seal had been in the settlement’s Ministry of Communication outpost and is among the missing goods. Between the missing items and the complaints of the Meng representative at court, Mother is displeased.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ling Qi noted. “Surely something like that would have to be too well guarded for a bunch of thugs to access.” Bandits, bands of deserters mostly, were usually little more than starving gangs crouched out in the woods, quick to get wiped out the first time they made a mistake or crossed into the wrong spirit's territory.

“There are places in the Empire where the law has little reach, and the absence of order invites new organization,” Cai Renxiang said calmly. “However, in this instance, you are correct. There are some… oddities. The town’s baron was away visiting his liege, and the guards meant to guard Mother’s goods, including an old third realm veteran, were found drugged and murdered in their barracks with no sign of conflict.”

“That sounds like something a bit beyond bandits,” Ling Qi said shrewdly.

“Quite,” Cai Renxiang replied in a voice as dry as the desert. “The Meng are… obliquely blaming the attack on the changes to security brought by opening the border. Between that and the theft, Mother requires that a point be made in our clan's name. To make that point herself would be excessive, you understand.”

“Are we ready for something like that? Even with the baron missing, a group that could attack a town and get away with it… That’s not going to be just a band of thugs. How are we even getting there in time?” Ling Qi asked.

Cai Renxiang stood, toying with the clasps on the box resting on her desk. “We will be making use of the Sect’s emergency transport formations. It is a great expense, but one that Mother is willing to cover,” her liege said, staring down at the container.

She flipped the box open, and Ling Qi’s hand twitched, grasping for her flute at the ripple of aggression that emerged from the unsealed case. Resting inside, nestled in a cushion of velvet, was an elegant saber. The metal was pale blue with the edge fading almost to white. Etched into the base of the blade was a thumb-sized butterfly, the grooves in the metal filled with powdered diamond. It glinted up at her, rippling through a rainbow's worth of color, radiating awareness and the promise of violence.

When Cai Renxiang grasped the hilt, Ling Qi could practically hear the blade purr as she raised it to eye level with a stoic expression. The blade gleamed with unnatural brightness, sending the shadows in the room dancing. The force given off by the saber was not inferior to Cai Renxiang’s own recently achieved foundation cultivation. “I recognize Mother’s personal touch. She does not give gifts without expectations. You understand the importance of this, correct?”

Ling Qi let out a breath. It seemed the first real test of the responsibilities she had chosen had come. “I understand.”

“It is likely that we will have watchers ready to step in if we fail,” Cai Renxiang continued, staring at the blade in her hand. “However, if such a thing is required…”

“It will be a great embarrassment,” Ling Qi finished. She could practically feel the resources drying up. Well, assuming that the watchers would step in for her in the first place. She forced herself to cheer up; it wasn’t like she was unfamiliar with danger. “At least I should finally get those arts once we prove ourselves, right?”

Cai Renxiang stared unflinchingly into the etching on her new saber a moment longer before lowering it. “Indeed. They were among the stolen goods.”

Ling Qi blinked, shocked out of her worry. “What? Why?”

Cai Renxiang arched an eyebrow. “Our exchange with the Bai included some access to their library of arts in return for a great deal of infrastructure investment and materials. The negotiations on what was exchanged took quite some time. Why did you imagine that your art package was taking so long?”

Ling Qi had just assumed that the archivist was taking his time, or fighting a library monster, or... something. She hadn’t even considered that some of her arts would be acquired from the Bai’s library. Ling Qi shook her head. “All the more reason not to lose.”

“Well said,” the other girl agreed as dark blue threads spooled out of the sword’s hilt, swiftly weaving a scabbard over the bared blade. “You have one hour to make preparations. Meet me at the Governor's manse in the town below.”

Ling Qi nodded sharply and turned to go. She had to let her Mother know what was happening and where she was going. As she moved to leave though, she heard Cai Renxiang clear her throat and turned back to look at the other girl.

“Ling Qi,” she said quietly. “Be prepared for the eventuality that Mother will be using my presence as a lure as well.”

Ling Qi blinked then grimaced. Given the sudden need to rush, she hadn’t even considered that. “Of course. I won’t be caught unawares,” she said, dipping her head briefly. It was going to be a very long night, Ling Qi suspected.

<You’ll be a long way from alone,> Sixiang whispered.

<I, Zhen, will obviously not let Big Sister be hurt!> Zhen scoffed.

<Yeah!> agreed Gui.

<Let’s go beat up some thieves!> Hanyi cheered.

Ling Qi smiled, but a worm of doubt and worry remained. She just hoped things went so smoothly.

***

The hour she had to prepare flew by. Between fussing with her medicine stocks, explaining the situation to her mother, and giving her goodbyes, the time came all too quickly.

She met her liege at the center of the Sect town, and they were led by an exceedingly nervous mortal man in rich dress, who appeared one moment of broken discipline from openly wringing his hands, into the building's sub-basement where the Sect kept a number of emergency transport arrays.

It only occurred to her after the formation had yanked them away through the aether that the man had probably been the governor of the town. By the time that she had finished having that thought, the sensation of air rushing over and through her had ended, and the world once again resolved itself around her.

They stood outside of a town still smoking and damaged by violence. To their left were torn-up and damaged fields, looking as if a stampede of beasts had just passed through. To her right, the town’s outer wall was breached, a crumbled cleft two meters wide at the bottom giving her a view of a damaged and bloodstained street.

Of more immediate concern was the ring of armed and armored men and women standing around them. Ling Qi’s alarm barely gripped her before reason reasserted itself. They wore the Cai clan’s mark, a red cloak clasp for most, and a yellow pin for a few. There were twenty five of them total, armed with a mixture of swords and bows. Twenty of them were of the late red stage while four were varying levels yellow. The last, an older man with a white rim on his helmet, was at the peak of yellow soul but with a physique of the bronze stage.

The very moment the flash of the transport formation faded, the soldiers were already on one knee. Cai Renxiang did not waste any time in addressing them as Ling Qi scanned the area. “Captain, report.”

The man with the plume on his helm dipped his head lower. What little Ling Qi could see of his face was greying and marked by wrinkles and scars. “Lady Cai, we received notice and left our outpost two hours ago. The town’s guard is gutted but sufficient for maintaining order in the immediate term. I have set my best scouts on the trail of the criminals. They appear to be making for the border.”

Of course they were, Ling Qi thought sourly. Even someone as inexperienced as Ling Qi could see the seeds of an incident with a capital “I” here. Cai Renxiang’s expression remained stoic. “And their force composition?”

“At least two combatants of the third realm, no more than appraisal stage, with a third being possible. One is a metal-focused melee combatant; the other is an illusion user. My scouts have counted roughly seventy lesser combatants moving together with notable discipline,” the captain answered quickly in a clipped and professional tone. “We cannot confirm the third elite combatant, but something is confounding and misdirecting our scouts' efforts at sabotage.”

“Assume there is a third,” Cai Renxiang ordered, gesturing for them to rise as she began to walk forward, eyes tracing the same trail of disruptive qi that Ling Qi saw leading into the thick woodland marsh to the north. The soldiers rose and fell into step around them without a hitch. “Captain, do you believe your men can outspeed the criminals?”

“It will be difficult given their lead,” the man admitted. “Our mounts would only slow us in the marsh, but the bandits’ larger numbers work against them.”

“Ling Qi,” Cai Renxiang said, glancing at her, “do you believe that you can halt their advance?”

“If that is really all they have, I should be able to misdirect them,” Ling Qi replied with confidence. “However…”

Cai Renxiang nodded sharply. Both of them expected something more dangerous lurking in the bandits’ midst. “Allow me to rephrase: are you confident in advancing ahead to slow them?”

Ling Qi felt some pride, knowing that Cai Renxiang thought well enough of her to believe that she could hold out even with the potential unknowns. “Yes,” she replied simply.

“Then I will leave the details to you. Captain, have your scout liaison provide Baroness Ling with the details of your maps and the enemies' trajectory.”

Threads 41 Justice 2

For once, Ling Qi did not soar as she took off toward her destination. The expense to her qi, small as it was, was not one she was certain she could afford.

The map that she had memorized showed that the terrain was mostly flat, and while the marshy terrain would have been an obstacle for most, for Ling Qi, it meant little. She dashed through the trees, flickered from branch to branch, and sprung from one muddy islet to another. Her feet left no impression in mud or grass, and even the thinnest branches barely swayed in her passing.

As she ran, she planned. Cai Renxiang and the soldiers would not be too far behind her. She just had to slow or halt the bandits for long enough that they could catch up. Of course, if there was one thing Ling Qi felt confident that she could do, it was bogging down her enemies in illusions and mist. She knew that she could go all out on the offensive as well, but…

She thought of squealing rat things down in the dark, exploding into bloody snowflakes. Could she do that to a person even if they were a criminal? Ling Qi wasn’t eager to find out. For a moment, she felt a strange stirring of excitement at the thought. The scent of blood and burning wood seemed to fill her nose, and her teeth ached as if in sympathetic memory of that time she had been caught up in a tide of vermin on the hunt. Unsettled, Ling Qi shook the feeling off, focusing on her mission. In the back of her mind, Sixiang stirred in discomfort.

The bandits’ trail was not difficult to follow, but it was less obvious than she might expect for seventy people barging through a marsh. The Cai scouts had already marked the boundaries of the illusion traps which peppered the route, though she could mostly sense them herself if she focused. It still saved her time. Soon enough, she heard boots pounding on mud and voices cursing laggards to keep up.

Catching her first glimpse of their rear guard, men and not a few women in eclectic and poorly repaired armor, she sprang into the air and flew. Curving left to circle around them and catch up, she kept a tight grip on her qi, fading into the shadows of the tree cover. Her eyes flickered silver, and she scanned her surroundings.

Flitting from branch to branch, she began the first step of her plan. Raising her flute, she played the Spring Breeze Canto technique. As the notes of the song spread and echoed, so, too, did her senses. She saw each member of the bandits’ formation. The majority were red souls, as reported, but there were still nearly twenty yellow souls of varying strength in their formation. The bandits mostly carried bows but a miscellany of weapons were also represented; a few of the stronger yellow cultivators had talisman crossbows stowed on their backs.

Of their two leaders, both were early green. One was a tall, spindly man with furtive features and long ill-kempt hair. He clutched a war fan in one hand, and his eyes never stopped moving, darting over the surroundings with a sort of nervous energy. He wore the same sort of mismatched light armor as the rest, but the dark green cloak around his neck glimmered in her qi senses.

His counterpart was almost his opposite, a short, stoutly built woman. She carried a heavy war axe. Of the bandits, she was the only one wearing fully metal armor. More importantly, the white cloth-wrapped package and its Cai emblem on her back were just a decoy. She managed to peer beneath the illusion and see the plain wooden box and the paper talisman pinned to its side as her perception technique faded. No matter where she looked, Ling Qi neither saw nor sensed any sign of the actual package. Hidden in a storage ring perhaps?

As the sound of her song washed over the bandits, the tall man stiffened and more than a few other heads snapped up. The bandits’ swift march began to pick up despite the first whorls in the area’s qi beginning to bloom as defensive techniques began to activate within their formation.

Ling Qi felt Sixiang’s readiness and Zhengui and Hanyi’s excitement. She once again felt a strange thrill of excitement. There was no turning back now.

Her qi surged as she shot through the shadows like an arrow. Color and sound exploded outward from her position, raucous phantasms erupting in a wave of mad joviality to engulf the nearest bandits. She felt a pulse of power pushing back against her technique, but in her mind, Sixiang laughed as the dispersal technique met the muse’s power and dissolved away like a fading dream.

Cries to “fall into formation”, “keep moving”, and “find the caster” were drowned out by laughter and song, and men stumbled in confusion, swinging weapons fruitlessly at dancing and laughing phantoms. Even with that promising start, Ling Qi was swiftly reminded that these weren’t her usual opponents, badly organized teenagers with only minimal experience at working in tandem.

The men weren't losing cohesion; they used their closeness to each other to stay oriented amidst the chaos. The second realms raised their voices to shout over the song, and first realms formed up around them. Eyes and ears flared with qi, and light bloomed on drawn weapons and armed crossbow bolts. Qi echoed between the members of the formations, empowering flesh and spirit beyond what a single first or second realm cultivator could achieve.

Arrows and bolts flew out, and a half dozen phantoms burst into butterflies and laughter, but more than a few sizzling bolts hissed through the air where she had been. Ling Qi slipped between revelers without a sound, flowing around a crossbow bolt. It struck the mud behind her, detonating with thunderous force.

The spindly man at the head of the formation waved his fan, and she felt a surge of disorienting lake qi. For a bare instant, she felt strange as if her channels were in the wrong places and her mind had forgotten how to command them, but then Sixiang’s chaotic qi washed out, cleansing the taint and banishing the feeling. But men were already orienting on her at the leaders' shout, peering through the phantoms. She couldn’t just stand and accept their fire; it was too much even for her.

But she only needed to delay them. And she had a new technique to try.

The Joyous Toast technique, the third technique of the Lunar Revelry art, amplified the power of other techniques. So as the melancholy sound of the Forgotten Vale Melody rang out, revelers roared in raucous joy, their stamping feet and hooves providing an accompanying drumbeat, and the world filled with mist. Bandits cried out in alarm as the mist rushed out like a tidal wave, consuming their entire formation and beyond, spreading for hundreds of meters through the swamp and rising hundreds more into the sky, reducing the afternoon sun to a pale memory.

In the dark of the mist, red eyes bloomed, and the laughter of the revelers became cruel mockery. Hands and paws which had grasped at limbs to tug them into a dance became talons that drew crimson lines of blood. In the confusion, Ling Qi shot back into a man’s shadow and vanished from the field, uncaring for the arrows and blades carving uselessly through her phantoms.

The bandits’ leaders shouted something to each other, and the man raised his warfan while the woman struck her fist against her breastplate, making the metal ring like a gong. Ling Qi felt twin pulses of power, stronger together than alone, push back against her mist. Around the leaders, the mist began to lighten, ever so slightly.

Ling Qi focused, and Sixiang wove her power through the breeze, amplifying her song. The mist crashed back down darker than ever, drawing a snarl of frustration from them both.

Ling Qi circled the bandit formation silently as the bandits regrouped themselves. To her frustration, their organization kept them together, and shared defensive techniques shielded them from the worst of her phantom attacks. Orders had rung out, distorted and warbling, to hold fire and press forward. They were near the border.

She was more than happy to let them try. While she couldn’t easily emerge without risking being riddled by the sheer number of arrows, her mist was not such an easy thing to escape. So as the bandits bulled forward, seeking the exit from her techniques, Ling Qi remained in shadow, only briefly diverting to play an Elegy of the Lost, entrapping a straggler or two and draining their qi to restore her own.

For a full fifteen minutes, she held them, nipping at their heels and vanishing before more than a smattering of bolts could fly her way. Slowly, painstakingly, she shifted her mist, lightening it here,thinning it there, letting the confusing qi soak deeply into their senses. And gradually, she turned them around, first until their steps took them perpendicular to their path, and then finally running them backward through the swamp. Perhaps this alone would be enough for Cai Renxiang and the soldiers to catch up.

Naturally, as that thought flitted through her head, she noticed something wrong. She felt ripples in her mist, places where her qi was being pushed aside. In the depths of a gnarled tree’s shadow, Ling Qi scanned the mist and saw them, figures that seemed spun from glass, visible only by the distortion in the mist.

It took a moment, but she counted six of them, their power obscured from her eyes. She saw the spindly man leading the bandits shout something to the closest figure, which replied in a hissing voice, chastising him for uselessness.

Ling Qi felt a sudden surge of power and moved on instinct as six arrows carved through the tree and its shadow, where she had hidden. Sizzling with toxic purple qi, they pierced straight through the trunk and sank into the ground until the fletching vanished under the mud.

But even as Ling Qi materialized among the branches, she felt a sharp sting on her cheek and a hint of wetness. Dozens of men spun to face her, and Ling Qi realized at that moment that the spindly bandit leader had made her silhouette burn with an eerie ghost light.

Phase two then.

In a burst of black smoke, her singing mist blade shot out, screaming through the air where the spindly bandit leader’s head had been and circled back, already seeking his shoulder blades. It was amazing, Ling Qi thought absently, that controlling her domain weapon took no more effort than flicking her fingers these days.

She saw the interlopers now, garbed in matching and clean suits of cloth-shrouded armor, their faces and heads concealed by wrapped scarves. Each one wielded a bow of dark green wood, and already, they were shifting to follow her as she darted to a new tree, moving like a well-drilled unit as empowering arts echoed back and forth between them. They were individually peak second realms, but together, they were pushing themselves to the power of a lower third realm.

But while they had found her, Ling Qi’s mist was not so easy to defeat. The bandits were still lost, and Ling Qi’s desperate dash carried her through the volley that flew her way, many arrows still shooting off into nothing.

Ling Qi landed at the rear of the bandits’ formation. If she couldn’t hide, she would just have to hold. Her allies were coming, and she was not alone. Behind her, there was a heavy thud, and a massive shadow began to form in the mist, towering over her and the bandits alike.

Yet her enemies did not break, run, or scatter. They huddled even closer together, men and women dragging wayward comrades back in line as they struggled to orient themselves and seek an escape. She felt a spreading pulse of heavy metallic qi rippling out from the stocky woman, anchoring and bolstering the spirits of the other bandits against the mist, and she felt the spindly man’s qi branching out like the flows of a river, granting his sight to key members of his group. The next volley of arrows was far more concentrated. The mist and the phantoms took most of them, but Ling Qi still found herself facing down dozens of arrows and bolts, more than a few of which were too potent to allow them to pass through her shadowy form.

Ling Qi was swift though, and her gown was a masterwork talisman. Like a shadow, she slipped through the volley, and the impact of most of the arrows that slipped through were no more than bruises. A single black crossbow bolt brushed her flank and detonated, shoving her to one side and briefly pushing her off-balance. In the moment of her distraction, the spindly man released a spirit beast, a gigantic dragonfly two meters long. It buzzed through the air almost as swiftly as she did, and the thunderous noise of its wings slammed down on her like a hammer, flattening the earth and mud for a dozen meters around. Ling Qi grimaced as she felt her head ring and a droplet of blood fall from her nose.

Amidst the bandits, more shapes began to emerge. Not every one of their yellow souls had a spirit, but there were still more than enough that did.

Of course, Ling Qi’s response to that escalation was already here. The sound that Zhengui made did not resemble his still childish speaking voice. It was the natural bellow of an enraged eight-meter-long tortoise. Zhen snapped out, swift as a shadow, and snatched the dragonfly spirit that had struck her out of the air. The massive insect let out a shriek of agony as burning fangs punched through its exoskeleton. Ash poured out from Zhengui’s maw, further darkening the area around them with burning particulates, and Ling Qi felt roots spreading under the earth.

And beneath all the thunder and noise, a soft, almost shy song began to ring out. Hanyi stood in the shadow of Zhengui’s shell, eyes dancing with delight as she reached out plaintively to the gathering bandits. The first man affected, a mid yellow archer at the edge of the formation, stumbled out of line with his fellows, his eyes glassy and dazed as he shrugged off their attempts to pull him back.

Ling Qi kept her eyes locked on the spindly man, even as viridian light rippled across her body, the Ten Ring Defense technique hardening flesh and bone against further attack and beginning to draw a thin trickle of qi back into her depleted reserves to replace what she had spent. Her flying blade circled him like a hungry wolf, and the dull steel sword he had sent out to contest it groaned and shuddered under the cry of her singing blade, its edge already beginning to crack and flake.

The man was the leader that was allowing the bandits to shoot so accurately. So perhaps it was time to cut him off. Even as she fell back into Zhengui’s ash, she began to play, and the spindly man’s eyes widened in alarm as the mist closed around him. He tried to slip out of the effect, but bolstered by Sixiang, there was no escape. It wouldn’t last forever, but he was out of the fight for a precious few moments.

Attacks still came, but bolts and arrows now pelted Zhengui, although the explosives did no more than make her sturdy little brother shudder, leaving the occasional pockmark on his forelegs and head that bled white hot blood.

But even without the man providing them vision, the bandits and masked archers were adjusting, clumps of men spreading out to surround her. The pale fire burning on her skin prevented her from slipping back into the mist, and although it flickered as Sixiang tried to wash it off, the effect of the arrow held. And those masked archers had far better aim than the bandits. Ling Qi flew upwards to avoid the arrows sizzling through the air. Where the arrows struck, plants rotted and the ground turned dark with poison.

Yet despite their perfect coordination and their reinforcing techniques, her superior cultivation was telling. With inhuman grace she darted through the storm. Twenty four arrows flew from six bows in the blink of an eye, and all but three failed to touch. Of those three, two glanced off, burning sizzling lines into the verdant light of her defensive technique. A third pierced through and drew a deep cut across her shoulder that burned painfully before Sixiang purged the poison.

Zhengui took the archers’ attack poorly. Spearing roots stabbed up through one trio’s formation, forcing them to scatter, and she caught a glimpse of broken wings and twitching legs disappearing down Zhen’s throat before a searing glob of liquid fire threw up a cloud of steam where it landed in the midst of the second trio’s formation, drawing the first cries of pain from them.

Her enemies took advantage of her focus on the archers. Ling Qi’s head whipped around as she felt something powerful echo in the mist, and ahead of the formation, her mist split, not dispelled but forced apart, opening a lane for the bandits to escape through. The bandits’ formation moved with renewed vigour, pushing hard for the exit, save for the illusionist and a dozen lost stragglers unable to keep up.

Ling Qi scowled. She was starting to feel some strain delaying the group. She didn’t know who had done that, but she couldn’t just let them run off… Red-eyed shadows joined her laughing phantoms, clawing and snapping at the heels of the bandits. She ignored the cries of pain as men were swarmed by scores of hungry shadows and pushed on to the finale of the melody. As she poured still more qi into the Traveler’s End technique, the corridor in the mist began to close.

There was someone else here, the suspected hidden third realm. The armored woman had not done that, and the tall man was still trapped in her elegy, fighting off her Singing Mist Blade with his own increasingly battered sword while his qi drained away. But those archers were still piercing her mist, even if their arrows were now stinging Zhengui like a swarm of hornets. One of the masked archers at least had slumped and run into Zhengui’s reach toward a song that called him, only to be snatched up by Zhen, pumped full of venom, and flung away, screaming. She couldn’t sense who or where this last opponent was, and it was beginning to worry her.

A warhorn sounded behind her. Ling Qi felt an intense build up of qi, and then, a lance of light so dense that it seemed almost liquid cut through her mist and carved a line of devastation through the struggling bandits. To Ling Qi’s eyes, it was obvious that it had been a blind shot. It carved through too far to one side, missing the center of the bandits’ formation.

Ling Qi felt her stomach turn as she saw the moment of impact, a pair of straggling reds at the edge of the formation that had been caught in full by the blast. They didn’t burn or explode. No, the light simply passed through, and everything from their waists up ceased to exist. The men behind them were no luckier until the light finally splashed against a hastily pulled up wall of packed mud and earth, boring through and cooking the mud into clay but weakened enough to merely burn the men on the other side.

Ling Qi looked at the source, and she could see Cai Renxiang and the soldiers she had brought with her. Her liege was obvious at the center of the line, flying above the earth on wings of radiance, sword in hand. The men behind her were no less bright. Their armor and weapons glowed a luminous white, and together, they made an artificial dawn. With spears drawn and leveled, they advanced in an implacable line toward the edge of her mist, but they were still far away.

Then Ling Qi’s instincts screamed danger, and she pulled up the power of her Deepwood Vitality technique just in time to meet the head of an arrow barely a centimeter from her head just as the thundercrack of its flight reached her ears. Eyes wide, Ling Qi jerked her head to the side as her defensive technique shattered. The arrow flew by, and through the perspective granted by her canto, she saw the trunk of the tree it struck disintegrate, rotting into a black slurry in a handful of seconds. A second arrow struck her in the stomach almost simultaneously, only the power of her gown deflecting it across her side instead of letting it punch through. Pain flared in her thoughts as black venom began to seep into the wound.

Ahead of her, hundreds of meters away in the direction of the border, she saw a shape rising from the earth just outside of her mist. He stood atop the head of a titanic mud brown serpent, a dozen meters long or more. He himself was dressed much like the hidden archers in clothing of brown and green, and the warbow held in his hands was far more deadly in appearance, recurved and as long as he was tall, the arrow nocked there looking more like a small spear. On his back, she caught sight of a white package stamped with the mark of the red butterfly.

Unlike the other archers, his head was uncovered, leaving his long hair, black and streaked with dark green, to fly free. More importantly, it left the upper half of his face bare, revealing his golden, slit-pupiled eyes.

Ling Qi found herself all too aware of how swiftly the cultivation advantage could change. The Bai was a threshold stage cultivator, the fourth step of the third realm, and his spirit beast at the third step.

As he began to once again draw back that monstrous bow, Ling Qi saw his sneering lips move, “Can’t expect peasants to do a Bai’s work, I suppose.”

Bonus: Characters of Destiny

Current as of: [RR Chapter Threads 39/ Year 44 of Empress Xiang’s reign]

Southern Emerald Seas Ling Clan

Ling Qi: Our main character. Baroness, Head of the Southern Emerald Seas Ling Clan, and retainer to Cai Renxiang. Member of the Argent Peaks Inner Sect.

- Zhengui: A young Xuan Wu (snake-tortoise) raised by and bonded to Ling Qi. Possesses a unique elemental (fire and wood) and thematic typing (growth and renewal), unheard of in the Xuan Wu of the North.

- Sixiang: A muse and fragment of the Dreaming Moon, bonded to Ling Qi.

- Hanyi: A childish snow spirit, daughter to Ling Qi’s former mentor, Zeqing, and bonded to Ling Qi after her mother’s passing.

Ling Qingge: Ling Qi’s mother. Formerly of the He clan before being disowned.

Ling Biyu: Ling Qi’s three year old half-sister. Very adorable.

Argent Peak Inner Sect Members

Bai Meizhen: A member of the ruling White Serpent branch of the ancient Bai ducal clan, rulers of the Thousand Lakes province, and daughter of Bai Meilin and Hou Zhuang. Ling Qi’s best friend.

- Bai Cui: A haughty and proud serpent spirit beast, cousin to and bonded with Bai Meizhen. The daughter of Bai Suzhen’s Prism spirit beast and the spirit of an assassin’s dagger.

Cai Renxiang: The current heiress to the Cai, the ruling ducal clan of the Emerald Seas, and daughter of Cai Shenhua. Liege and friend to Ling Qi

- Liming: A masterwork item spirit bonded to Cai Renxiang, one of only four to be crafted by Duchess Cai Shenhua. Perpetually angry, and very scary.

Gu Xiulan: A scion of the Gu vicontiel clan of the Golden Fields province. Ling Qi’s friend. Unhappily engaged to Fan Yu.

- Linhuo: A Heaven Spark Fairy, born of wildfires ignited by lightning.

Xuan Shi: Friend to Ling Qi and a scion of Xuan ducal clan of the Savage Seas province. A powerful craftsman and lover of literature

Li Suyin: Friend to Ling Qi, Craftsman of Creepy things, Apprentice to Bao Qingling

- Zhenli: A pink, fuzzy spider, bonded with Li Suyin

Bao Qingling: A scion of the Bao comital clan and younger sister to Bao Quan. Li Suyin's mentor. Recently seen chatting with Bai Meizhen

Ruan Shen: A scion of the Ruan baronial clan. Former music tutor to Ling Qi. The Ruan are subordinate to the Bao comital clan, but the cultivation stage reached by members of the Ruan means they can potentially take up the vicontiel rank.

Shen Hu: Friendly with Ling Qi. Scion of the very recently created Shen baronial clan.

- Lanhua: A monstrous looking mud spirit beast.

Sun Liling: Scion of the Sun Ducal Clan and great-granddaughter of Sun Shao, King of the Western Territories. Opposed Cai Renxiang and her faction in the Outer Sect.

- Dharitri: An unusual and highly bloodthirsty spirit from the depths of the Jungle. It looks like a tall and willowy foreign woman with bronze skin, dressed in red scarves.

Ji Rong: Baron, Former member of a street gang. Joined up with Sun Liling

Kang Zihao: Scion of the Kang comital clan of the Heavenly Peaks province. His father is the current head of the Imperial Guard. Former ally of Sun Liling. Bai Meizhen plans on killing him for his insult regarding her dead mother, Bai Meilin.

Yan Renshu: A craftsman who viciously hates Ling Qi after she ruined multiple of his bases in one night. He attempted to poison Zhengui. He was crippled by Wen Cao in his first year at the Sect. Entered the Sect two years before Ling Qi’s year did.
Yu Nuan: A fellow musician who Ling Qi challenged and defeated in a contest of music.

Liang He: A swordsman who Ling Qi challenged and defeated in single combat.

Liao Zhu: Rank 2 member of the Inner Sect. Former tutor to Ling Qi and current mentor in the Scouts

Bian Ya: A scion of the Bian vicontiel clan. Former tutor to Ling Qi in Wind and Wood qi. Seemingly interested in Ruan Shen. The Bian are directly subordinate to the Cai ducal clan, but the cultivation stage reached by members of the Bian means they can potentially take up the comital rank.

Wang Chao: Scion of Wang comital clan.

Meng De: Scion of the Meng comital clan

Luo Zhong: Scion of the Luo comital Clan

Argent Peak Outer Sect Members

Gan Guangli: Retainer of Cai Renxiang

Su Ling: Friend of Ling Qi and Li Suyin, her former roommate. She is the daughter of a powerful Spirit Beast, a cyan level fox who seduced and killed her human father. She is a very capable pill crafter. Very grumpy

Ma Jun and Lei: Former guards of Ling Qi. Friends with Su Ling

Xiao Fen: Bai Meizhen’s handmaiden and member of the Black Viper branch of the Bai ducal clan.

Liu Xin: Talented commoner, and Xiao Fen’s friend

Han Jian: Scion of the Han Marquis clan of the Golden Fields province. Friend of Ling Qi. Rejected Xiulan. Second year Outer Sect member.

- Heijin: Tiger. Cousin and bonded spirit beast to Han Jian

Han Fang: Han Jian’s adopted cousin. Mute after taking a knife meant for Han Jian

Fan Yu: A scion of the Fan comital clan of the Golden Fields province. Friend of Han Jian. Xiulan’s fiance. Second year Outer Sect member.

Lu Feng: Vassal and ally of Sun Liling and Scion of the Lu comital clan of the Western Territories. Friend of Ji Rong

Chu Song: Baroness. She is descended from the fallen Chu clan, a comital clan which was purged by the Cai after attempting to oppose the new Ducal clan’s reforms.

Huang Da: Scion of the Huang comital clan of the Ebon Rivers province. Blind. Had a crush on Ling Qi and Li Suyin, which was emphatically not returned

Hong Lin: The unfortunate fiancee of Huang Da

Wen Ai: Scion of the Wen comital clan of the Ebon Rivers province. Lost to Gu Xiulan in the New Year’s tournament. Formerly blackmailed after Ling Qi stole her love letters.

Argent Peak Core Sect Members

Gu Yanmei: Recently Promoted. Xiulan’s Older Sister. Scion of the Gu vicomital clan of the Golden Fields province.

Guan Zhi: Ling Qi’s commander in the Sect military training program. Member of the Scouts. Niece of Elder Zhou

Argent Peak Elders

Elder Sima Jiao: Grumpy occasional mentor to Ling Qi. Head of the Talisman department. Former Minister of Integrity under Emperor An. Married to Xin

Xin: Wife, and bonded spirit to Elder Jiao. She is the Archivist of Vice, a powerful prism Hidden Moon spirit.

Elder Guan Zhou: Commander of the Sect Militaries and initial teacher of Physical Cultivation to Ling Qi

Elder Hua Su: Initial teacher of Spiritual Cultivation to Ling Qi. Head of the Medicinal Department.

Elder Hua Heng: Teacher in the Inner Sect. Father to Hua Su, and very old.

Elder Ying: Helped deal with the Spirits unleashed by the cloud shaman. Taught Ling Qi how to raise Spirit Beasts

Sect Head Yuan He: Slayer of the Great Khan Ogodei. Head of the Sect

Assorted Others

Zeqing: A powerful Ice Spirit who lived at the peak of White Cloud Mountain (The Outer Sect Mountain). Tutored Ling Qi in Music, Cold and Darkness. Mother to Hanyi. Currently Deceased

Hidden Moon- It is the Great Spirit representing the new moon. It hoards secrets and knowledge. Xin is an aspect of the Hidden Moon. It is currently a patron of Ling Qi

Dreaming Moon- It is the Great Spirit representing the waning gibbous. It represents Dreams, and creation. Sixiang is an aspect of the Dreaming Moon. It is currently a patron of Ling Qi
Grinning Moon- It is the Great Spirit representing the Waning Crescent. It represents mischief, thieves and cleverness. It is currently a patron of Ling Qi

Bloody Moon- It is the Great Spirit representing the Waxing Crescent. It represents Vengeance and Justice. It oversaw a Dream Trial in the Inner Sect set during a Weilu Civil War.
Reflective Moon- It is the Great Spirit representing the Twin Half Moons. It is linked to self-reflection, contemplation, peace and togetherness. Diplomats often invoke this moon.
Guiding Moon- It is the Great Spirit representing the Full Moon. It represents travelers and sailors, and is strongly associated with revealing mystery.

Mother Moon- It is the Great Spirit representing the Waning Gibbous. It represents the family, motherhood and fertility.

Cai Shenhua: Duchess of the Emerald Seas province. She holds the title after overthrowing the previous ducal clan, the Hui.

Diao Linqin: Matriarch of the Diao Count clan. Prime Minister of the Emerald Seas. Cai Shenhua’s lover

Ai Xiaoli: Mother of Gu Xiulan

Bai Suzhen: Heiress to the Bai Ducal clan, Aunt to Bai Meizhen

Bai Meilin: Bai Meizhen’s Deceased mother. Died as a result of being blamed for an Imperial Prince’s Death

Hou Zhuang: Bai Meizhen’s father, and Spymaster for Bai Suzhen

Emperor Mu An: The previous emperor. He was a reformist who created the Ministry of Integrity to clamp down on corruption as well as the Great Sects. He recently ascended to become the death aspected Great Spirit Inexorable Justice.

Empress Mu Xiang: The current empress. Former member of the Ministry of Integrity. Her Mother was an imperial consort to Emperor An and a White Serpent Bai. Her mother was assassinated by the Bai because the ruling faction of the White Serpents opposed closer relations with the Imperial Family

Threads 42-Justice 3

Ling Qi found her thoughts drifting back to the old story which she had read when looking into Bai Xiao Fen and the Bai clan in general.

“But the Red Python and the Green Asp scorned their ascended father’s will, and they rose in rebellion against the first White Serpent Queen. Only the Black Viper stood steadfast at her side.”

If this wasn’t a trick, it looked like she was going to have to talk to Meizhen about her extended family and their resistance to the new alliance with Emerald Seas.

Ling Qi felt Sixiang’s qi pulse and the pain in her side faded. Ling Qi bent her knees and lunged. The wind screamed past her ears and the mist flowed forward like a living sea, following her movement. The very moment the mists rolled over the probable Bai, she did something that she had never done on the practice field.

Ling Qi played the final measure of the Forgotten Vale Melody. At once, the echoing refrain which carried on the melody cut out, and the mist seemed to tremble in anticipation. It collapsed. Hundreds of meters worth of mist collapsed in on itself, condensing and withdrawing as the weight of the technique smashed down on the bandits and the Bai as well.

Even as she felt a desperate pulse of metallic qi ripple out, she felt the flickering pale auras of many of her first realm foes’ spirits simply snuff out like a candle doused in a bucket. Ling Qi had no time to focus on the cold, unpleasant feeling that welled in her stomach at the realization of what had happened because the very earth lashed out at her in response to her assault. It was not a physical retaliation, but tendrils of powerful qi, snapping out at her like the tails of a whip, erupted from the mud beneath her feet.

The emerald mantle of a hastily activated Deepwood Vitality caught one, but three others lashed her as it shattered, and Ling Qi had to hold back a scream as they carved lines of burning pain across her spirit. The Bai was no longer sneering however as the shimmering veil of deep brown qi that had shrouded him crumbled, and she could feel the mark her attack had left on his own spirit. He had hurt her more than she had hurt him, but she could see the rage in his eyes at having been hurt at all.

All around her, she saw that her technique had been more effective elsewhere. Many of the bandits lay upon the ground. Although some still moved weakly and showed a spark of life, most of them lay empty, their spirits extinguished. The ones which had fallen on their backs stared up with blank eyes at the sky, and though their chests still rose and fell, there was no life there. Those who still stood huddled around the stocky, armored woman with trembling limbs, staring at her in terror. Their leader stood in the center, depleted qi only slowly returning to her aura. The illusionist was among those on the ground, breathing feebly and clutching the stump of his arm where Cai Renxiang’s light had burned it off. Her domain weapon winged back toward her, drops of crimson blood marking its edge.

And Ling Qi felt in the tremble of her breath the depletion of her reserves the massive attack had wrought.

Of the camouflaged archers, she saw only two. The one Zhen had mangled lay on the ground, and another knelt in the dirt, having barely withstood her attack. But Ling Qi could feel seven channels beneath the earth terminating where the Bai archer stood. He had protected the remaining archers with whatever that technique had been.

There was a moment then where the only sound was the faint echo of her Spring Breeze Canto and the noise of the phantom revel that still surrounded her. The laughter and song contrasted sharply with their surroundings, and brightly dressed fairy dancers cavorted atop churned mud and corpses. Silently, she sent a command to Zhengui, telling him to fall back and draw closer to her.

As Zhengui took his first step back, everything exploded back into motion. A pulse of her qi through the revel sent a gangly, goat-like spirit in a shimmering nobleman’s robe to seize the arms of the remaining bandit leader and dragged her, struggling, out of formation. Two of the bandit leader’s crossbow-wielding subordinates swiftly joined her.

The air above the Bai shimmered, and a green blur shot toward her, crossing hundreds of meters in an instant. It resolved into a sphere of deep green jade carved with scores of formation characters. It rotated swiftly in the air above her, releasing a cloud of foul green vapor that spread near as swiftly and as far as her mist.

The throat of the Bai’s serpent companion bulged, and the massive snake spat out a man-sized glob of mud which swiftly expanded as it left the beast’s mouth before crumbling to reveal four disoriented archers. The archers stumbled about in confusion, but they were otherwise unharmed.

At the same time, Ling Qi activated her Graceful Crescent Dancer technique and blinked out of corporeal existence as a second spear-like arrow thundered through the space where she had been and detonated in the muck. A second, a third, and fourth followed, and she zigged and zagged desperately, throwing herself into the cover generated by the expanding ash cloud Zhengui unleashed.

As her Singing Blade shot toward the Jade Orb in the air and glanced off in a shower of sparks, individual bandits continued to break formation, running and stumbling with blank eyes toward Zhengui and the little snow girl crouched mischievously beneath his bulk. Only a handful of the shots sent her way from the bandits’ crumbling formation even fell in her general vicinity, most shot wildly into the revel instead.

Ling Qi was no longer fighting wholly alone however. The advancing dawn-like light of Cai Renxiang’s formation grew brighter and closer, and a white-fletched arrow picked off one of the bandits Hanyi had drawn out of formation, taking the confused woman in the throat. Ling Qi heard a familiar chime and caught a glimpse of a white ribbon and the tinkling bells dangling from it. She felt her confidence rise as narrow beams of light from Cai Renxiang’s domain weapon cut through the sky to smash against the spinning surface of the poison spewing orb that had thus far resisted her Singing Blade’s efforts to push it back.

Despite the churning in her stomach and the worry in her heart, Ling Qi did not hide herself behind Zhengui, even as the poison mist raining down upon them made her skin tingle and itch. Instead, she gave the Bai a challenging smirk as the shimmering viridian light that shrouded her darkened and grew thick and gnarled, taking on the texture of bark. She needed to make sure that the Bai didn’t just run away with the package toward the border, and to do that, she wanted to prick his pride.

Her challenge was answered fiercely. Without giving any visible command, the archers the Bai had saved fell back into formation and fired a volley of arrows that sizzled with poison as they arced unerring through the sky toward her. She did not even have to move as Zhengui lumbered in front of her. Arrows shattered on his shell, hissing and bubbling as the poison boiled off from his heat. Others struck home, sinking into Zhen’s scales or Gui’s stout legs, but her little brother merely let out an enraged hiss and a trailing section of the ash clouds shrouding them flared green and vanished. Arrows were pushed out of his wounds and boiling poison was ejected from his flesh in hissing spurts as his wounds closed.

Ling Qi felt her minor wounds and some of the spiritual ache from the Bai’s counter fading as well, but she could not let her guard down yet. She felt the ripples in the wind as not one but three supersonic projectiles left her enemy’s bow. She spun out of the path of the first as the arrow twisted midair to avoid Zhengui’s bulk and crashed into the mud behind her with a thunderous crack, the resulting wave of mud passing through her ghostlike form to splatter and harden on Zhengui’s flank. The second crashed down not even a moment later, and Ling Qi leaped to the side, only for it to explode into a half-dozen smaller, seeking missiles. Three of them struck home. Two shattered upon her gown, reinforced as it was by her defensive techniques, but the third piece cut a burning line across her cheek. Ling Qi stumbled as pain exploded through her veins, making her vision swim even as she held back a cry of pain.

She barely had the presence of mind to draw upon her Deepwood Vitality technique again, throwing up a barrier in time to catch the third spear-arrow with a crack of thunder. The scent of rot reached her nose as the missile rapidly corroded the barrier and itself. This time, she was not fast enough to dodge as a shard of wood the length of her forearm punched through and dug into her side, thankfully glancing off of her ribs before it could penetrate deeper.

Sixiang was saying something, but Ling Qi could not quite understand their words through the haze of pain in her thoughts. She grit her teeth, forcing herself to see through the pain and prepare herself as her enemy nocked another arrow. Distantly, she felt a pulse of qi as the remaining bandit leader tore her hands free of the phantom dancer’s grip, but it seemed so far away compared to the sickly warmth spreading from the gash across her side. She felt the ground beneath her feet try to turn into a sucking pit of mud, but a web of rootlets spread through it faster than it could change, forcing the ground to stay solid, and more ash vanished, crumbling flakes sticking to her wounds and rebuilding flesh. It dulled the pain and allowed her to think more clearly.

Then a star fell from the sky, and the haze of toxic mist raining down upon them evaporated before its purifying light. A solid bar of liquid light smashed into the spinning orb, and despite the resilience of domain weapons, Ling Qi saw a spider web of cracks spread across its surface before it was flung away.

Cai Renxiang floated above her in a corona of light that would have been blinding to a lesser cultivator. Ling Qi could see the girl at the center of it, suspended on wings formed by curling threads of light. Her arms were bare, and the hem of her gown had risen to almost above her knees. The saber in her right hand looked like little more than an incandescent bar, impossible for even Ling Qi to look directly at.

She met her liege’s eyes then, and the girl gave her tiny nod of acknowledgement. “Ling Qi, with me.”

It was a command, crisp and brief, the voice of one who had no doubts that they would be obeyed. Ling Qi found in this instance that it didn’t rankle her at all. In an instant, she conveyed her thoughts to her spirits. She sent Hanyi to help the soldiers with the remaining bandits and urged Zhengui to catch up with her and Cai Renxiang as quickly as he could.

Then she rose from the ground on wings of starry shadows, and the light of Cai Renxiang’s wings washed over her, liquid light threading through her shadows, wrapping her limbs in threads of inviolate light. In turn, the vital qi pulsing through the meridians in her heart and spine flared as she expended a great flood of qi to activate the Thousand Rings Unbreaking technique, shrouding her spirits and Cai Renxiang alike in the unbreakable vitality of the Emerald Seas’ forests.

Together with Cai Renxiang, she shot forward, the sun and the shadow that chased it. Arrows rained down on them. The lesser missiles shattered on contact or burned up in the purifying light before they could do even that much.

Behind them, Ling Qi could hear and feel the clash as the soldiers made contact with the remaining bandits. Battered and disorganized as they now were, the soldiers cut into the bandits’ broken formation without mercy. With the echoes of her Canto still ringing in the air, she saw luminous spears punching through patchwork armor. A stocky, armored woman, her limbs trembling with exertion and exhaustion, swung her heavy axe desperately to drive back the gleaming celestial-armored soldiers.

She and Cai Renxiang had their own troubles. Ahead of them, a toxic smoke rose steaming from the ground to shroud their enemy, and the two of them spun apart to avoid the thunderous passage of another spear arrow. A second came, and Cai Renxiang swung her saber. The shockwave that erupted from the meeting of missile and blade flattened grass and tore the leaves from nearby trees. When a third and a fourth arrow struck in the wake of the second, Cai’s light flared, bleaching the color from bark and grass. Ling Qi glimpsed the faceless visage of liquid light that replaced her liege’s face as the two arrows disintegrated, leaving only a cloud of shrapnel to cut across her bare limbs and face. It failed to do harm through layers of white and emerald qi.

Their enemy, along with his soldiers, retreated before them, shrouded in a vast cloud of toxic qi. But Ling Qi knew that they could not afford to let him get away. She might not know politics as well as some, but if he were to escape, even she could see the mess that would result. So, despite memories of exploding flesh and the blank-eyed stares of still living corpses, she began her mentor’s song, singing the Aria of Spring’s End, enhanced by the Echoes of Absolute Winter. The mud and water froze in her passage, and the moisture in the air turned cold, raining down as a soft snow on the now frozen marsh.

Above her, she saw Cai Renxiang’s lips thin with the same resolve and the spray of crimson droplets as Cai drew her free hand across the edge of her new blade. She saw the heiress’ lips move, and though she could not hear the words over the howl of the wind and her own song, she could read them well enough.

“Cifeng, Liming, kill.”

Ling Qi felt the pulse of radiant qi from Cai Renxiang’s dantian, and it was quickly absorbed into Cai’s gown. There was no physical sound, but attuned as she was to the expressions of the soul, the howl from Cai’s dress spirit struck Ling Qi like a wave. The pulse redoubled as it flowed out from Liming and into the hilt of Cifeng, the saber in Cai’s hand. The blazing sword cackled in a silent voice of pure bloodlust as a star was born at its burning tip, and the technique Cai had channeled was redoubled yet again.

Then Cai Renxiang brought her blade down, and the world in front of them vanished in light. The light thundered down from the sky, consuming a perfect circle a quarter kilometer in radius. When it faded, trees and plants were gone and the earth was bleached white, but as the blinding light faded, a violet missile roared out, forcing Cai Renxiang to twist to the side as it roared through where she had been.

The dodge was not enough however as the whole of it exploded outward into a cloud of dense, noxious mist. Even Ling Qi had to flit away, so far did it spread. Cai Renxiang emerged from the mist, sickly black poison clinging and bubbling to her left arm, a grimace of pain on her face.

Standing before them, his mist stripped away, was their opponent. Only two of his men still remained alive. Of the others, only ashen shadows on the bleached earth remained. The Bai stared up at them with hatred in his golden eyes. Bloodless gouges marked the scales of his companion, and the man himself was scorched and ruffled, parts of his armor disintegrated, leaving bare his slightly scorched flesh.

For a moment, they stared daggers at one another. Then a glob of boiling venom splattered across the ground with a bubbling hiss, launched by a frustrated Zhengui far behind them, and they exploded back into motion.

Sped by the enhancing power of her liege’s techniques, Ling Qi shot forward through the sky in a cloud of rapidly forming snowfall and played the Hoarfrost Refrain. The melody rang out, freezing solid the bleached and scorched earth, and it washed over her enemies, stopped from reaching their flesh only by a pulse of ochre qi that erupted from the Bai, cloaking them against her wintery power. Arrows rose to punish her for her assault, but she spun and danced through the air like a flitting butterfly of starlight. She avoided what she could and simply took what she couldn’t, letting shards of rot-infused arrows bounce off of her enhanced gown.

Her enemies’ main focus remained on Cai Renxiang. Earthen qi spread from the Bai’s companion, and she saw the snake begin to move as if to dive underground, but its spade-like head merely crashed into the hard packed earth, sending up a spray of dirt but nothing more. Whatever Cai Renxiang had done, it had rendered the very earth inert.

The Bai cursed as he leaped off his confused companion’s head and unleashed another volley of arrows toward the heiress in the sky, his hand and the string of his bow blurring with inhuman speed as he fired off a half- dozen spear-like arrows in the time that most would take to fire one.

But Cai Renxiang was not alone. Her gown, so often inert and peaceful, seemed alive and eager for battle now. Tendrils of light from her gown snatched arrows from the air and crushed them, devouring the qi infused into them like a hungry beast. Her sword seemed to sing with bloodthirsty delight with every swing as Cai batted away projectiles. Her liege blurred then, her corona of light brightening until even Ling Qi could not see through it as she smashed down upon the bleached earth like a falling star.

The Bai, his spirit, and his men were all flung away. As Cai Renxiang emerged from the crater she had left in the earth, her blazing sword marked by the black smoke of evaporating blood, the Bai landed on his feet, a deep groove carved in the front of the Bai’s massive bow and a cut across his chest.

Roots speared up out of the inert earth then, entangling the thrashing, brown-scaled snake, and Ling Qi sang her refrain again as she soared over the man, lashing him with her icy melody. He threw back most of her assault with a flare of earth qi, but this time, a single note speared through, and she felt her icy qi take hold in his blood.

Behind them, the bandits were falling, broken up and defeated by Cai’s soldiers. Many were dead, but some had merely been beaten unconscious. Cai Renxiang fell upon their opponent again in a masterful combination, her living saber darting and twirling through the air, releasing pulses of scourging light at every point of contact while hungry threads from Liming sought the Bai’s flesh. Over her head, she heard the crack of stone as her Singing Blade and Cai’s ribbon shattered an orb of jade.

As she sped through the air, Ling Qi saw the panic growing in the Bai’s spirit, an insidious thread spreading ever so slowly and weakening his resolve. She saw his free hand inching toward a loop of beads hanging from his belt, marked with formation characters that she knew to be those of an escape talisman.

Most of all, she saw that his back was open as he fended off her liege.

Threads 43 Justice 4

Ling Qi felt the familiar fluctuation in the radiant qi emanating from Cai Renxiang’s blazing sword, the unstoppable pulse that could tear up even the roots laid down by her Thousand Rings Unbreaking. So as the upward slash launched the Bai up and back, hurtling backward through the air with his guard broken, she was prepared. Almost without thought, she followed up on her liege’s attack.

She flickered through the sky, carrying with her the corona of winter cold and the echoes of the frozen melody passed down to her from Zeqing. Behind them, the fading phantoms of her festival howled a cheer and raised their cups even as they wavered and faded into twinkling light and moonmist. Her enemy felt the chill of her presence first and tried to twist in the air, but the momentum of her liege’s attack was not yet spent, trapping him in its trajectory.

Ling Qi’s hands grasped his shoulders, and for a single moment that seemed to stretch on far longer, she met his golden eyes, so much like those of her best friend, as he half-turned his head. The Call to Ending fell from her lips. It was not so much a note or a melody as its opposite, a deafening, all-consuming silence impressed upon the world.

The insidious chill of the Hoarfrost Refrain in his blood flared up and his skin split open, weeping half-frozen blood. His veins burst and his lungs contracted in the impossible cold. She saw his eyes mist over with crystals of frost. Sharp spikes of stony qi erupted from his back, his last wild retaliation slamming into her chest. It threw her back, and she caught herself as it flung her to earth, skidding backward on her heels and digging furrows in the earth as his frozen, stiff-limbed form flew overhead, no longer resisting the force of her liege’s technique.

The wound in her side throbbed, the burning pain penetrating the veil of adrenaline and enhancing techniques, and Ling Qi felt Sixiang begin to weakly whisper something, but she had no time to listen. She had barely a moment to turn as she heard the sound of tearing roots and a mental roar of hate and anguish. Several tons of furious snake slammed into her raised arms and drove her into the dirt. She tried to flicker away but found herself unable to, shackles of black earth bound her to the physical world as she strained to push back against the blunt reptilian snout plowing her into the bleached dirt. Rock and sediment parted beneath her, sharp edges ground against her back and wore at even the steel-strong threads of her gown. The wound in her side screamed, and something in her right forearm splintered as the world blurred by outside the meters-deep furrow in the earth being plowed by her body.

It ended when a ray of light fell from the sky like the wrath of the heavens and brought her assailant to an immediate halt. As Ling Qi’s movement came to a halt, her fingers digging into hard packed and inert earth to halt her momentum, she saw the light fade, revealing Cai Renxiang kneeling atop the thrashing snake’s head, her blade driven down to the hilt in its skull. Tendrils of light, taut as cables, dug into the earth on either side, the anchors that had halted the beast’s momentum.

Ling Qi rose to her feet, gritting her teeth as she clutched her throbbing forearm. Though the limb remained straight, she could feel the break in the bone, shards digging into the surrounding muscle. The wound in her side burned fiercely as well, but it did not spread further, the poison inert or…

<Sixiang?> Ling Qi hissed in alarm, even as her eyes darted back and forth across the battlefield, searching for signs of threat.

<Still here, boss. Poison jumped to me when I tried to get rid of it. What kind of nonsense is that, huh?> her muse laughed weakly. <Gonna… Gonna take a nap now.>

“Ling Qi, do you require assistance?” Her eyes snapped over to Cai Renxiang as the girl stood. There was a wet sucking sound and a spray of blood as she stood, drawing her saber out of the skull she had sheathed it in. Not a droplet touched her, the liquid boiling off before it could mark Cai’s gown or skin.

As Ling Qi forced herself to return her breathing to a stable pattern, she looked inward in alarm. Sixiang was still there, diminished, reduced in a way that was hard to describe, but the poison seemed to have run its course in both of them. “I’ll keep,” she replied shakily. “I… I got him?”

“You did,” Cai Renxiang said, floating off of the still-twitching corpse under her feet. Her right arm was covered in ugly acid-like burns, the skin darkened and split open in bloodless gashes, but she showed no signs of pain, save for an almost imperceptible tremble in the fingers clenched around her sword’s hilt. Ling Qi followed her gaze back toward the start of the furrow she had made in the earth where a tangle of stiff limbs jutted up at odd angles from a pockmark in the bleached earth.

Ling Qi felt her vision swim, and her stomach contract. She tasted acid in the back of her throat. She’d killed him, and he hadn’t even been the first, had he? It was funny. She knew she had caused many deaths indirectly, and she knew she had done so much harm in the time before. But she’d really outdone herself today, hadn’t she? It had seemed like nothing in the moment, no more than reacting to an advantage in a duel, but how many people’s lives had she ended today?

Ling Qi felt her balance desert her, and for a moment, the dirt beckoned. Something caught her though, and she looked up to see Cai Renxiang as the girl’s unburned arm slipped around her shoulders. Most of her light had faded, and Ling Qi found herself surprised out of her thoughts as she saw the look of unreserved sadness on the heiress’ face.

“Come along then. It is time to carry out the duties of victory,” the other girl said quietly. “Hold yourself together for a time yet. The violence is over, but the battle continues.”

Ling Qi understood distantly what Cai Renxiang meant. They still had to oversee the return to the village. She laughed, and it was a hollow sounding thing.

Hadn’t Xiulan told her all the way back at the beginning? Appearance was strength as well. She nodded and forced her wobbling legs straight and the bile in her throat back down. That could come later.

She could not bring herself to speak much in the aftermath despite that. Instead, she fell back on her old standby, copying her best friend’s aloof and distant manner, clutching to it like a desperate mask even as her emotions churned underneath. She allowed it to crack for Zhengui, wrapping his gigantic head in a hug as he worried over her wounds and stewed in regret that he hadn’t been able to help more. Hanyi needed no reassurances, skipping away from the battlefield like a child coming home from the park.

The soldiers regarded her with a wary respect as they loaded up the surviving bandits onto open wagons which came rolling up sometime later. The armored woman had been stripped of her talismans and bound in chains of clear crystal that glowed with powerful formations in her senses, but the spindly man lay dead in the dirt, his eyes empty. She watched him dragged into a pile with the rest of the dead as she sat stoically under the ministrations of the nervous physician that had accompanied the wagons.

As her arm was splinted and the wound on her side dressed, she watched the dead burn in a pyre of unnaturally hot flame born from talismans carried by the soldiers. She watched as a man with a jangling staff like Xuan Shi’s marched around the pyre, murmuring prayers and planting golden sutra scrolls on the hastily raised posts that marked the boundary of the pyre. Bandits deserved no honor, but the potential danger of angry spirits still needed to be contained.

The Bai was not among those burned. His remains were sealed away until it was decided what needed to be done with them. For once, Ling Qi found that she had no interest in a defeated foe’s gear.

She barely found herself able to care about the tablet of white jade containing her arts. She browsed listlessly through them as the soldiers did their grisly work. There were many arts within, most in the first and second realm, the sort of things necessary to get a family started. Ling thought that she would have to work with her mother to see which cultivation art fit her best. There were a handful of potential arts for her that she would have to study later when she could concentrate. The Cai had truly been generous in putting together such a comprehensive and no doubt expensive art library for her. This alone would probably ensure that her family and descendants, if alive, could maintain a Baroness rank.

It was a relief when an enclosed carriage finally rolled up to take her and Cai Renxiang back, along with the most important of the stolen items.

As the door of the carriage clicked shut and the frame flashed white, activating the privacy arrays laid throughout the structure, Ling Qi finally allowed herself to fall to her side with a thump on the long, padded bench. Zhengui and Hanyi were still outside; she could feel the rumble of his footsteps. Cai Renxiang sat across from Ling Qi, her arm swathed in bandages arrayed as perfectly as the poor army physician could manage.

“What are they going to do with the rest of the bandits?” Ling Qi asked.

“I think you know,” Cai Renxiang said, her hands folded in her lap. The black-sheathed saber lying across her knees purred like a contented cat. “The sentence for banditry is death.”

Ling Qi nodded faintly, not sitting up. The splint on her arm was stiff and uncomfortable. She would be glad to get it off after they got back to a larger settlement with more medical resources. Ling Qi couldn’t help but be bitter at the thought. She really had changed, hadn’t she? No wonder she had been able to act so easily.

“It is always a shame when lives end, but we do not live in so kind a world that it can be avoided,” Cai Renxiang said, as if hearing her thoughts. “You did your duty well.”

“I suppose I did,” Ling Qi said. It was amazing how fast things could change. How long ago the whimsical trip with the moon sisters seemed now. She thought of dirty streets and lives ruined. What difference was there between her and a bandit, save scale?

“Why are you so unbothered? Did your mother have you kill someone already under her watchful eye?” She knew that was cruel and unfair, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“I have watched many executions,” Cai Renxiang admitted, absently running her fingers along the sheath of her saber with her eyes downcast. “And I have seen the deaths wrought by waste and corruption. But today is the first day that I have taken human life with my own hands.”

“Then why? Do they just not matter because of who they were?” Ling Qi shot back.

“They matter, and their victims matter, and the soldiers matter,” Cai Renxiang replied sharply. “I am calm because I know that I have been responsible for uncountable deaths, merely because of who I am. I am the heir to Cai. Every man or woman dead to bandits, every executed criminal, every soldier, and every person who has met their end to privation or carelessness under my family's rule is my responsibility. It does not matter if their end came at the stroke of a pen, a headsman’s axe, or burned away by my light. The blood is on my hands all the same. That is what it means to be a ruler.”

“That’s a little arrogant, isn’t it?” Ling Qi asked. “Even your mother can’t be everywhere. People make their own choices, no matter who is in charge at the top.”

“Of course they do. Yet every choice they make is informed by the society we build. We who rule construct, shape, and execute the systems under which our people live their lives and make their choices. If our people are slain by foes, it is because we did not protect them. If they starve, it is because we have not provided for them. If they turn to crime, it is because we have failed to provide a virtuous path on which they can live.”

“It’s not that simple,” Ling Qi said, finally sitting up. “Even perfectly comfortable people will do evil things.”

“Perhaps that is true of some petty crimes and acts of passion,” Cai Renxiang said steadily. “But near a hundred men and women do not turn bandit without the pressure of a ruler’s failings. The world does not allow us to have mercy for bandits, but the world does not need to be one where bandits exist. The world is far from that state. To protect those who you come to rule, you will be forced to confront your failures and the failures of your neighbors. But you must remember. We can improve. The world is ours to shape, and just as vice arises from vice, virtue arises from virtue.”

Ling Qi clenched her fist, remembering staring eyes and frozen limbs. She remembered a dream and bloodstained fangs. “How can you be so confident? If it’s all down to failure of the ones who rule, do you think that you’re better than all the ones who came before?”

“I think that I may only strive as high as I do because of their successes,” her liege replied, and Ling Qi remembered a veiled spirit, speaking wistfully of packed streets as if they were an accomplishment in and of themselves. “This is not a goal that can be obtained in one person’s lifetime, even a cultivator’s. We must act…” Cai Renxiang paused then, furrowing her brows.

“Cai Renxiang?” Ling Qi asked, forgetting in the moment to use her title.

“I have perhaps realized something,” Cai Renxiang said distractedly. “Regardless, Ling Qi, you acted to defend and avenge our people today. However painful you found it afterward, you did not hesitate when it mattered. I know more surely than ever that I did not choose wrongly in extending my offer to you. The path I have chosen is not one that can be walked alone. No matter how I strive or how strong I grow, the world will not bend to one woman’s will. Not for long.”

“I think I understand,” Ling Qi said quietly. To change things, for better or for worse, one had to be prepared to fight. They had been reactive today, but in the future, that would not always be true.

“If that is so, I will ask you again,” Cai Renxiang said seriously. She met Ling Qi’s eyes unwaveringly. “If your answer has changed, then I will find you another task that is not so onerous. Will you continue to support me, Ling Qi?”

Ling Qi lowered her hand to the wound in her side. She knew that the men she had killed today would not have hesitated to kill her in turn. She thought of a burning pyre consuming the dishonored dead. She thought of the new graves being dug outside the sacked village and the ruined fields that she knew would leave hungry bellies come winter. She thought of Tonghou’s miserable streets and the eyesore of a brothel in which she had once dwelled. She thought of brutal guards and gangs and nights spent in the cold. She hated it all.

She couldn’t forget the sickness that she felt as the results of her actions had caught up with her. She hated that feeling too, just as she had hated the taste of blood in her mouth after the Bloody Moon’s dream. If it was possible to make such things unnecessary…

She would just have to try.

“Yes.”

Threads 44 Death 1

It took four days to make it back to the Sect.

For the first time, Ling Qi got a real sense of just how massive the province and the Empire were. Ling Qi had been a little surprised that they had not simply taken another transport formation, but when she had asked, Cai Renxiang had informed her that it would be an excessive expense.

Ling Qi kept herself busy by beginning to examine the flows of some of her arts and how she could channel them more efficiently, using fewer meridians. Cai Renxiang was not one for small talk, so it helped to keep her from going stir crazy and kept her mind off other things. If she lost herself in weaving new and better qi patterns, she did not have to think about staring eyes and the broken pile of frozen meat that had once been a man.

It did not help that Sixiang had remained dormant for two full days, only awakening after they had been attended to by a physician in a larger city on their way. The restorative elixir Ling Qi had been given to speed the healing of her less physical wounds had rejuvenated the spirit as well. Even then, however, the muse had remained quiet and reticent. Zhengui had been quiet as well. Only Hanyi remained in high spirits, and she had quickly gotten frustrated with everyone else’s mood.

Ling Qi had never been so glad to see the Outer Sect mountain than she had been on the evening of the fourth day. When she had taken leave of her liege, she had gone straight to her mother’s home. Her encounters with the staff had been as awkward as always, especially with memories of the past swimming closer to the surface than usual. However, when she had met again with her mother, the first thing the older woman had done when they were alone was hug her.

It had felt good to discard the pretense of a cold noblewoman. That had been the first night that she had spent at the house in town and the first time that she had slept in some time. She found that she did not mind as much when she could spend those unconscious hours walking the shore of the sea of dreams at Sixiang’s side in contemplation.

She remained at the house the next day, sitting in at breakfast with her mother and sister. She left for a short time to move into her new residence from successfully challenging the disciple ranked 768 and advancing into a new tier the month before and to drop off Zhengui at the hill the Sect had set aside for his use. Her little brother, both halves of him, had been insistent that they wanted to practice some things in a place where they wouldn’t break anything important. Hanyi had elected to go with him to “make sure he didn’t just laze around.”

It left Ling Qi with some time to spend with the human part of her family, something she was glad for. She was glad to have a little moment of quiet out on the veranda with her mother while Biyu played in the garden.

“I am glad that you seem to be recovering from your trip,” her mother said quietly, cradling a cup of tea in her hands. “Are you able to speak about it?” The older woman was still hesitant in her address.

Ling Qi almost demurred. The things troubling her were not something her mother could easily relate to, but she had decided against keeping her mother out of things just because those things might trouble her, had she not?

“We went, and we dealt with the bandits,” Ling Qi replied with a wry smile. “I was just the one who dealt with a lot of them personally.”

Ling Qingge nodded, looking out at Biyu chasing butterflies through the garden. “I had thought it was so,” she admitted.

Ling Qi glanced toward her without turning her head. She supposed it was an obvious assumption to make given her haggard state the night before. “Your family before - were any of them in the guard or the army?”

“A few cousins,” her mother answered. “And though I know you would ill like to hear it, many clients as well. It is not uncommon for young men to come seeking comfort after their first brush with death.”

Ling Qi wrinkled her nose in disgust, but… Yes, she could accept the point. “I think I will find other outlets,” she said dryly.

“Probably for the best,” Sixiang murmured, the wind of their words tussling Ling Qi’s hair.

Ling Qingge did not startle at the spirit’s interjection. “I agree. I was merely pointing out that the look in your eyes was familiar in more than one way.”

Ling Qi sighed but nodded. “And what does one do to get over it?”

Her mother frowned. “Some become cruel, others separate their duties from themselves, and more merely accept it as a grim necessity. There are as many reactions as there are people. I am sorry, my daughter. I have no simple answers for you.”

“I don’t think there is one. You lot aren’t built to just accept this kinda thing, I think,” Sixiang mused. “There’s so much art and song and rhetoric dedicated to making it seem okay after all.”

So she had to find her own path forward. That was hardly new. She thought back to Cai Renxiang’s words. This, too, was part of being a cultivator. It was a responsibility that arose from power in this world. She thought she could understand a bit what motivated those hermits who went into their caves and never emerged.

There are few things more wretched than a human who is truly alone.

Ling Qi blinked as those words came to her, arising from memories of her time with the three moon spirits. They resonated with her, echoing through the twisting channels of qi that wound throughout her being. Even if she understood some possible motivation for those hermits, she couldn’t do that to herself.

“Sis-y!” She blinked, shaken from her thoughts as her little sister ran up to the veranda, a pout on her face. “Sis-y, I can’t catch them! Help, please?” Biyu asked, gesturing imploringly out toward the garden.

Sixiang chuckled in her thoughts, and Ling Qi smiled, reaching out to tousle the little girl’s hair. “Sure thing, little sister. Let’s go catch some butterflies.”

For once, Ling Qi didn’t mind spending an afternoon with no thought for cultivation.

In the days that came after, she began to resume her routines, but her trips home grew in frequency. She took to spending more time composing music in the garden, sometimes with her mother, sometimes with Hanyi, or more rarely, both. Gradually, the household staff began to, if not relax, at least become used to her presence. When night fell and Biyu slept, she spent time inside with her mother, coaxing her through the opening exercises of cultivation arts, seeking one that fit her mother well.

In those first few days back, Ling Qi’s time on the mountain was limited, but even so, it was quickly becoming clear that word of what had happened on the border was spreading. Still, none approached her directly until she was approached on a day when she was out in the market with Bai Meizhen and Gu Xiulan.

***

“... And then we took a carriage back to the Sect,” Ling Qi finished.

She sat in the front room of Meizhen’s lodgings, her hands folded in her lap. They had plans to go out today, but Ling Qi had arrived early. It hadn’t felt right to leave her friend in the dark, so she had come early to explain. Thankfully, Cai Renxiang had agreed when she asked permission to tell Bai Meizhen. Rumors were already spreading, though neither of them could pinpoint the sources. The incident was not going to remain hidden.

Meizhen stood in front of her, facing the fire with her back to Ling Qi. Cui lay coiled around her feet, eyeing Ling Qi with a cold gaze. Ling Qi held back a grimace. Things had never really recovered between her and Meizhen’s cousin. She doubted this would help. She held some hope that Meizhen at least would not be too badly affected.

“I suppose I will apologize,” Ling Qi looked up from Cui’s gaze as Meizhen spoke, looking back over her shoulder at Ling Qi. “It is unfortunate that such a thing would happen.”

“You’re not angry?” Ling Qi asked warily, searching her friend’s face. “I mean, he was family, wasn’t he?” She couldn’t imagine how she would feel if someone she knew admitted to killing a member of her family, but it wasn’t… this.

“Hmph. The Ling presumes too much. The foolish thing went against Aunt and Mother’s plans. If her fangs had not found its throat, I, Cui, would have killed it myself,” Cui replied with a scoff.

“I somehow doubt that we would have been summoned for such a duty,” Meizhen said dryly, glancing down at her cousin. “Ling Qi, I cannot know this man’s intent, but his actions blatantly defied the heir presumptive of the Bai Clan. His fate was sealed regardless of your actions,” she explained gently. “Still… it is troubling. While I am aware that the lesser branches sometimes complain, I had never considered such an act of defiance.”

Ling Qi let out a breath of relief. Sometimes when speaking to other nobles, it was easy to forget that what she thought of as family was something closer to “one’s immediate household” than what they referred to as family. But it unsettled her how little care her friend showed for what she had done. Even Cai Renxiang had been troubled by the battle. “Have you killed someone before, Meizhen?” she blurted out.

“Smooth,” Sixiang murmured. Ling Qi winced.

Meizhen turned a curious look to her. “Of course. Grandfather would not have sent me out into the world unblooded,” she answered. “It was a highwayman who foolishly attempted to prey on the roads between our capital’s satellite villages, if I recall.”

“How he squealed,” Cui laughed, as if they were talking about a humorous anecdote.

Ling Qi stared at her friend for a long moment, and her friend shifted under her gaze, a faint frown touching her lips. Meizhen was the one to look away. “... It was hardly something to glory in, but I cannot be experienced in all fields,” she muttered.

That was not the issue, Ling Qi thought uncomfortably. “Did it bother you? I just - even though I know it was necessary, I can’t…” She trailed off into uncertainty, not sure how to articulate the problem in a way her friend would understand.

However, it seemed that her words were enough as understanding dawned in the girl’s golden eyes. It was still hard to meet them. “It was unsettling in the moment, I will admit. However, Grandfather was there to talk me through it.” She hesitated. “It is a happy memory, all things considered. Grandfather rarely took personal time for me. While it is untoward to glory overmuch in killing, Ling Qi, the world is deadly, and for one to live and grow, others must die. You have slain many spirit beasts, some of which could even think and speak as we do and consume pills and elixirs made from their essence every day. Why be so torn at this death?”

Ling Qi leaned back in her chair with a complicated expression. She wanted to say that it was different, that killing a person wasn’t like killing an animal, no matter how smart, but then… She looked down at Cui and then back up at Meizhen. She thought of Zhengui and Heijin and Zhenli and all the other spirit beasts she knew.

“I don’t know,” Ling Qi admitted aloud. Was it just because the bandits had looked like her? Because seeing their eyes as they died was different than looking down into the eyes of a dying beast?

“And isn’t that a nasty tangle of thoughts brewing,” Sixiang said with a sigh.

“Outsiders always get hung up on weird things, cousin. It is their nature,” Cui said haughtily.

Ling Qi frowned, feeling like she was both being made fun of and missing something important. She didn’t understand how her friend and cousin could be so cavalier about this subject. However, they were snakes, weren’t they? It sounded dumb when thought of like that, but snakes were carnivores. They could only ever eat flesh. From that point of view, it was absolutely true that for one to live, others must die.

“I’m sorry for dragging things off on a tangent,” Ling Qi sighed. She loved her friend, but it was clear that this was one trouble that Meizhen couldn’t help with.

Meizhen gave her a searching look then stepped over Cui’s coils to approach her. Ling Qi looked up in surprise as Meizhen hesitantly reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. “Qi, I cannot fully understand what troubles you here, but… I am glad that you did as you did. Because you fought and lived, you are still here before me. Is that not the most important thing?”

Ling Qi blinked and then smiled. “Well, of course. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience Miss Bai.”

Meizhen huffed and withdrew her hand. “That is not what I meant and you know it,” she accused.

“I know,” Ling Qi replied. “Thanks, Meizhen.”

“Do you wish to cancel our outing today?” Meizhen asked. “If you are not feeling well, we should inform Gu Xiulan beforehand.”

“No, I will be fine,” Ling Qi denied. “I guess I just have one more thing I need to meditate on later.”

Soon enough, they set out to meet her other friend, and Ling Qi did her best to put such contemplative thoughts aside for the moment. Xiulan soon arrived, and the three of them set off for one of the Inner Sect markets. Though Ling Qi’s thoughts continued to chase themselves in the back of her head, she allowed herself to enjoy the simple conversation as they chatted about recent events in the Sect. It swiftly turned into a discussion of their acquaintances from their own year in the Outer Sect.

“That girl has debased herself even more, but it is hardly surprising at this point,” Meizhen scoffed in disgust. “Binding one of those nasty little creatures.” She paused then, glancing at Xiulan. “No offense meant, of course.”

“None was taken,” Xiulan sniffed. “The creatures of the Red Sun are hardly comparable to my Gu family’s sacred sun crows.”

Ling Qi hummed noncommittally. She had not seen the beast in question because she had been absent from the Sect when Sun Liling had engaged in a duel and revealed her new spirit beast. A three-eyed raven with a body half-consumed by parasitic plants certainly sounded gross. “You’re familiar with it, Bai Meizhen?” she asked.

“They are a type of spirit that lurks in the sunflower fields of the jungle, living off carrion. ‘The Eyes of the Goddess,’ they are called,” she named with a sneer. “It is bad fortune to see one and allow it to live.”

“Well, we’ll all just have to suffer our ill fortune,” Ling Qi said wryly. “I think we’d get in trouble otherwise.”

“Quite,” Xiulan said in amusement, eyeing the bolts of cloth hanging on display at a vendor’s stall. “But I find myself more irritated that her little lapdog managed to contract a Heavenly Dragon. Do you know how much time I have spent, how many things I have tried, attempting to entice one?” she grumbled. “It is nonsense, I tell you.”

“Luck is a talent as well,” Meizhen said dryly, giving Ling Qi a long look.

Ling Qi smiled sheepishly. She supposed that she couldn’t comment on the matter, what with accidently stumbling into receiving the egg of a xuanwu.

“Leaving them aside, how are things with Han Jian?” Ling Qi asked, turning to Xiulan as they stopped to inspect the wares on display. Ling Qi’s eyes lingered on an armband that promised to aid in the circulation of qi during physical cultivation. It was not useful for her, but perhaps for Mother…

Xiulan grimaced, but her temper had improved enough that there was no more reaction than that. “He has reached the full third realm. The last I heard, he was solidifying his foundation and seeking aid to help his cousin through. That fiancé of mine is still languishing in the second. He had a very bad failure, or so I heard.”

“My condolences,” Meizhen said, turning over a jade hairpin in her hands with mild interest before putting it down as they moved on. “Ling Qi, how is my cousin?”

“Xiao Fen is doing well. I think she is having fun,” Ling Qi said slowly. It was hard to tell with that girl, but she seemed to be adapting to the Sect well.

“That’s one way to put it,” Sixiang mused.

“Hmph, of course,” her friend replied haughtily.

“More importantly, how are things with your two suitors?” Xiulan asked slyly, bumping her good shoulder against Ling Qi’s. “I never thought you the type to string them along.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Ling Qi scoffed. “Shen Hu is a good sparring partner, and Xuan Shi is just friendly. Get your mind out of the gutter, Xiulan.”

“Indeed, she is clearly pining for our Senior Brother Liao Zhu,” Meizhen said serenely. “Given the time spent waxing lyrical over his skills.”

“Meizhen,” Ling Qi complained, drawing out the word. “Not you too. He’s just a really good teacher.”

“Oh? How have I not heard of this?” Xiulan asked, her eyes alight with mischief. Ling Qi was swiftly remembering why she didn’t do this often. These two teamed up against her far, far too easily.

“I hate to interrupt. I really, really do,” Sixiang lamented. “But you’ve got somebody approaching from your right. They’re focused on you.”

Bonus: Handmaiden

Having a handmaiden, Bai Meizhen decided, was entirely more stressful than stories said. Looking out over the lake, she considered her words, and adjusted her grip on the fishing rod in her hands. Beside her, Xiao Fen stood still and attention, with her hands hidden in the long sleeves of her black gown. The other girl’s brow was wrinkled in concern.

“My Lady, what troubles you so?” Xiao Fen asked.

Of course Xiao Fen would notice her consternation. She was after all, her handmaiden. “I have been receiving a great deal of letters,” Bai Meizhen replied. “Regarding your conduct in the Outer Sect.”

Xiao Fen, for one brief moment, looked wounded before her expression smoothed out, and she bowed low, a new fire of determination in her eyes. “I apologize Mistress. I had thought that I was representing your interests as instructed, clearly I have erred. Please instruct me on how I can improve.”

Bai Meizhen lowered her head, and her fishing line sagged. That little display of emotion… She was glad for it. Of all the Xiao she had been given leave to interview, only Xiao Fen had showed that spark of unextinguished passion. However… that same temper had its problems. “Please call me by name when we are alone, Xiao Fen.”

Perhaps it was the irritating Sect rules that kept them apart most times which made things remain so awkward between them still. Still that at least was a mistake that Xiao Fen only made once per meeting.

“Of course, Lady Meizhen, forgive my slip,” Xiao Fen said, somehow bowing even lower.

Bai Meizhen frowned, it was a small thing, but she wished that Xiao Fen could be less deferential. Ling Qi had spoiled her. “Raise your head. Let me say that you have been performing all of your tasks well, the letters I have received are about secondary concerns. There have been several complaints from the Hou clan regarding your treatment of Hou Jin in particular. Others families as well, if less so.”

Xiao Fen looked confused. “But my Lady, the Hou clan is nothing. They are called counts, but what lands do they rule, or soldiers do they lead? They are jumped up courtiers. Why would you concern yourself with the prattle of trash?”

Bai Meizhen was silent as she gave a sharp tug on her line, pulling a wriggling green scaled carp from the splashing water. It was a puny thing compared to the fish of the Lakes, but it was plump enough as Emerald Seas catches went. A single glance and a surge of qi froze the creatures heart, stilling it’s movement immediately. She began to work the hook free of it’s mouth. “It is true that the Hou clan is of the new paradigm in the capital, but this does not make them irrelevant. Their wealth is at least real. However do not mistake my intent. I do not particularly care about the whining of stone counters.”

Even the house of her new… friend, Bao Qingling was not so shameless. Mercantile certainly, but their true power was built from their crafts and lands. That they chose to participate in the actual dickering over stones was unseemly, but not terribly so. For a moment, Bai Meizhen found herself distracted, thinking of the way the girl’s dark hair framed her face. The fish in her hands twitched and Bai Meizhen shook her head. Releasing the unhooked fish, it dropped and was snatched from the air by a tendril of shadow deposited in the basket behind her.

“What have I done wrong then, Lady Meizhen?” Xiao Fen asked. “I did not kill or cripple Hou Jin, nor anyone else. I have been careful to remain within the Sect rules, and even refrained from using Five Organs Rotting art against human opponents.”

“You will find, Xiao Fen, that outsiders have different standards on such matters,” Bai Meizhen replied. She scrutinized the hook at the end of her line, the tines were bent. She would have to replace it soon. Letting her shadow take the rod, she turned to her troubled handmaiden. “I would not call them soft precisely, not all of them, but they are more offended by words than hurts. The trouble, Xiao Fen is not you beating these churls, but the lash of your tongue visited upon their families.”

“I have said nothing that is not true. Their pride far over matches their stations,” Xiao Fen said, looking aside. “Where were they, when the Strife came, or the Twilight King marched?”

She was not wrong, Bai Meizhen thought but the world could not be made to bend, not even by the Bai. Not without terrible cost. These days they lived in saw pitiful creatures like the Hou elevated to high nobility. Even the Duchess Cai had done some such elevating among her courtly houses, casting down those of ancient bloodline who had grown venal and weak. Although her choices as least were less questionable in character. “All the same Xiao Fen, I must ask that you please show more restraint with your words, even if they are true. My Aunt seeks to bring the rest of the Empire back to us and away from the Sun, we cannot do that if we are offending their sensibilities at every turn.”

“I understand,” Xiao Fen said. “...It is a fault of mine, for not being able to complete my diplomatic lessons, I prioritized the combat arts.”

“It is a matter of circumstance,” Bai Meizhen dismissed, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Aunt Suzhen has informed me that the plans for completing your curriculum through correspondence are coming apace.”

Another trouble brought on by their circumstances, normally a Bai would not select their companion until their seventeenth year, but the scattering of their scions had forced a change.

Xiao Fen laid her hand over Bai Meizhen’s and smiled. It was an expression that looked good on the girl, despite its rarity. “Thank you, Lady Meizhen. I will not disappoint or fail you again.”

“You have done no such thing,” Bai Meizhen huffed, gently tugging her hand free. “Now did you bring the spears? I find myself in the mind for a more active sport today.”

Xiao Fen nodded eagerly, and a brace of fine fishing spears appeared in her extended hands, the sun glinting off their bronze tines. “As you requested, my Lady.”

“Good,” Bai Meizhen sniffed, weighing one in her hand and looking back the lake. “Then shall we make a contest of it then, Xiao Fen?”

One day, they would grow closer, as a Lady and her maid should. Bai Meizhen thought.

Threads 45-Death 2

Ling Qi looked to her right, following the line of Sixiang’s attention into the lane between rows of stalls. Briefly, her vision was blocked by some passersby, but she soon met a pair of dark amber eyes, and the young man they belonged to immediately stopped.

It took only a moment to place his face, even if she had only met him once. Luo Zhong, one of the clan scions she had met at Cai Renxiang’s parties, looked back at her with an air of mild interest. He stood at ease with his hands in the pockets of his loose robes.

“Sir Luo,” she greeted simply. “Can I help you with something?”

“You have better senses than you have been given credit for,” he said casually. He glanced past her toward her companions. “But perhaps that is a more recent development?”

“Do you know this man, Ling Qi?” Bai Meizhen asked mildly.

“We have met,” Ling Qi replied.

“Do tell,” smirked Xiulan, eyeing the young man up and down.

“My apologies for interrupting your trip, ladies,” Luo Zhong said, offering a polite bow. “I had hoped to speak with Miss Ling, but she has been difficult to find since her return.”

Translation: she had been hermitting it up at home. Ling Qi glanced between her friends then nodded. “We can talk now, if you would like. What’s your concern?”

The Luo scion smiled, and Ling Qi found herself thinking that he was fairly handsome in a rough sort of way. She blamed the thought on Sixiang and the conversation that her friends and she had been having a moment ago. “I have unfortunately not been able to access our Lady Cai. Is it true that the two of you fended off an invasion of our borders?”

She didn’t miss the way his gaze briefly lingered on Meizhen, who drew herself up imperiously. Nor did she miss the attention being directed their way from other passersby. She almost snapped back, but pausing a moment, she felt the fluctuation in Luo Zhong’s qi spreading around them like a pack of canny herding hounds keeping onlookers at bay. He was screening them. Still, she glanced to Meizhen, and cool qi washed out.

“It was nothing so grand,” she replied. “Just a band of criminals with an unusual strength.”

“So that is where you disappeared to,” Xiulan hummed. “You crushed them, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Ling Qi replied, almost faltering for a moment. “Neither Lady Cai nor I were badly hurt, and none of the criminals escaped. There were no casualties beyond the initial attack,” she added, looking back to Luo Zhong.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “You are aware that some are grumbling about how insecure the border has become, correct?”

“Opening a few roads hardly affects the security of the wilds,” Meizhen replied coolly.

“I agree,” Ling Qi backed up Meizhen. “And if I may, Sir Luo, certain events surrounding the attack were very… conveniently timed.”

He smirked, showing teeth that were a bit sharper than normal, and gave her an appraising look. “That is quite the implication you have there, Miss Ling. Be careful with how you wield it. It would be disagreeable if the province took a turn for the insular again.”

<He’s not wrong there. Someone could lose a finger on that edge,> Sixiang muttered. <Oh wait, did I say finger? I meant head.>

“It would. Goodness knows how much money would be lost,” Gu Xiulan said, tossing her hair.

“The Luo would survive, but losing the support of the Gu clan’s mines and quarries would be unfortunate indeed,” Luo Zhong agreed easily. “Is your sister well, Gu Xiulan?”

“Elder Sister Yanmei has been quite busy,” Xiulan answered smoothly. “But I believe she is in contact with Father regarding your uncle’s suit.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. Then dipping another bow to the three of them, he continued, “In any case, my apologies for taking up your time, ladies. Thank you for your time and words, Miss Ling.”

“You are welcome,” Ling Qi replied.

“Miss Gu, Miss Bai, I hope you have a good day as well,” he added, straightening up. “And Miss Ling…”

“Yes?” she asked.

“I sometimes get together with others from the east of the province to have a little hunt and discuss matters of the province. If you would like, please feel free to join us as your time allows. Vassals of the Cai should get along after all,” Luo Zhong invited smoothly. “I would be honored by your presence.”

“If time allows,” Ling Qi demurred. If it hadn’t been clear already, it certainly was now. She could no longer stay out of Emerald Seas politics.

Still, she refused to drown in them. As Luo Zhong took her leave, she put his offer out of her mind for now. She was here to shop and to tease and be teased by her friends. “So, Meizhen, I’ve been meaning to ask. What have you been doing with Bao Qingling lately?”

***

Over the next few days, Ling Qi remained immersed in more relaxing things. She attended Li Suyin’s breakthrough celebration, congratulating the girl and complimenting her on her new dress that she and the boy she had been cooperating with had finished. She spent time working with Zhengui and Hanyi and more time at home, playing music for her little sister or cultivating with her mother.

But she knew she did not have all the time in the world to relax. She would be going out with the Sect’s scouting corps for live exercises soon.

Ling Qi began to wish that she had never begun to think about things like this.

“It always would have come up at some point,” Sixiang pointed out, idly kicking their feet in the shimmering dream water.

Ling Qi sighed, looking out over the shore where they sat. It was still a little strange to be so literally enmeshed in her own mind, but it could be relaxing. “If Meizhen is right…”

What did it say about her that she had never really thought of spirit beasts in the same way she thought of people? What did it mean for Zhengui? She called him “little brother,” but was he really only a pet to her?

“I think you’re taking the recrimination too far there,” Sixiang said idly, their wispy rainbow hair drifting in an unfelt breeze as they stopped kicking their feet and turned to look at Zhengui. “People think and dream contradictory things all the time, you know? You definitely think of the big doof like family.”

Ling Qi dipped her head in acknowledgement. She supposed that was what it came down to. A person was different than people. But it still bothered her now that she had been forced to acknowledge it. Did every spirit beast count? Every simple animal? Every bit of quasi-active elemental qi? Were barbarians supposed to be people too? If so, what did that mean for her current conundrum?

The simple fact was that the deaths she had inflicted on the bandits and the renegade Bai had felt different than hunting beasts. It had felt different from attacking that barbarian shaman so long ago. She had imagined killing before, thought darkly of what she would do to some of the people who had hurt her in the streets or more recently, the ones who had abused their power over her mother. The reality had differed and had churned her stomach but if she asked herself if she could still take satisfaction from those fantasies, the answer varied. For most, the idea seemed horrible now, but…

There were still a few that she could picture suffering those same fates and feel nothing but satisfaction for. She had rejected the permanent torment that her mentor inflicted on her treacherous husband, but there were those who deserved to End, ones who, even now, she would freeze the life from with hardly a moment’s hesitation, if things were arranged such that there would be no further consequences.

The Mirror that she had cultivated in her thoughts and accepted into her spirit did not allow her to lie to herself in that. Was she a bad person then?

“I’m still pretty new to the concept, so I can’t help much,” Sixiang said with a helpless shrug. “But… Hmm, death is part of the world too. I think it comes down to the circumstances.”

“You’re probably right,” Ling Qi said with a sigh. “But I don’t know if I should be the one judging that.”

“Only you can judge yourself,” Sixiang replied. “Don’t you remember what Auntie said? There’s no fate or higher plans. The world is just countless dreams bouncing off one another and shaping the future. Right and wrong is down to you and the people whose judgment you care about.”

“That somehow doesn’t feel as comforting anymore,” Ling Qi said dryly. Some would call that freedom, she would call it responsibility. She stood, brushing off her gown out of habit, despite the fact that not a single grain stuck. “If I have to be the one who judges, I think I’d still like some advice,” she added quietly as her form shimmered and she vanished back into the waking world.

Though she couldn’t say she knew him well, there was one person she knew who had to have considered the implications she was now thinking on very deeply indeed.

***

Finding the person in question did not prove too difficult, thankfully. Liao Zhu, her sometime instructor and Senior Brother, was currently logged at the central Sect office as using one of the advanced training grounds available to disciples of the highest ranks. As she was technically his student for the duration of the military lessons, she was able to acquire this information just by asking. There was definitely some use to learning the little details of how the Sect was run.

The training ground lay deeper in the mountainous Sect lands, a high snowy plateau ringed with warding arrays, both to repel spirits and keep the effects going off inside from damaging the surrounding environment. Upon arriving, Ling Qi had begun to search for a comfortable place to wait for him to emerge, but she had noticed that the entry array was in its unlocked state. If he did not want to be interrupted, surely he would have locked the arrays behind him.

She could admit to being a little curious too as to what an advanced training ground entailed. So with only slight hesitation, Ling Qi stepped through. Immediately, she found her senses under assault by the sounds of combat and the clash of metal on metal. She had walked into a battlefield.

The ground was littered with gleaming black knives, and the sky was full of phantoms. They were armored figures wielding a variety of weapons, some mounted upon beasts while others strode through the air on boots trailing clouds. Even as she watched, more of the armored warriors were disgorged by a trio of complex arrays laid out around the training field. They paid her no mind, soaring up toward the center of the commotion.

There, in the center of the churning chaos of phantasmal bodies, she spotted Liao Zhu. Well, one of the figures she spotted was surely him anyway. Black knives fell like rain, and when they pierced a phantom through the head or heart, the constructs shattered into motes of light. Liao Zhu moved amongst them in a barely perceptible blur. There seemed to be at least a half-dozen of him at any one time, mirror images that blurred and split and merged with no seeming rhyme or reason. Their every movement trailed blurring afterimages.

Here, a bracer-clad arm seemed to split, blocking three different blows from different angles and whipping out to fling another knife directly into the forehead of another phantom at the same time. There, one leapt upward, bouncing off the head of a phantom and split into four, leaping in separate directions and trailing afterimages of their own.

It was supremely confusing to try and follow, and Ling Qi could not begin to guess which one was the real one, even as her eyes instinctively flooded with moon qi. There was something else here too, something that leapt from the shadow of one construct to another faster than she could see. However, she only had a bare few moments to observe before she felt the fluctuation in the masterful weave of moonlight and darkness qi that lay over the training field and met the Senior Disciple’s eyes from across the battlefield.

Immediately, Liao Zhu made a sign with one hand, and the phantoms flooding the training field vanished in a rain of twinkling starlight. He fell to earth and landed in a crouch, all but one of his mirrored copies fading. They stood with eerie synchronicity and turned to face one another and bowed. A moment later, the one on the left rippled like the surface of a lake disturbed by a stone, and Ling Qi glimpsed a tall and androgynous figure dressed in robes of glimmering silver. Where its face and head should have been was only a cloud of shimmering mist, and when she squinted at it, trying to see through to the face beneath, she only found herself staring back into her own eyes.

“Coming to peek at your Senior Brother without invitation, Junior Sister Ling? While I am indeed a peerless spectacle, I had not thought you the type,” Liao Zhu said, voice loud and bold as he turned to face her. The figure beside him vanished like morning mist. It was almost enough for her to miss the patch of blackness slithering across the ground to merge with the shadow pooled at his feet. “After all, is that not what your own moon spirit is for?”

<He’s not wrong,> Sixiang murmured, regaining, for a moment, some of their humor.

“My apologies, Senior Brother Liao,” Ling Qi replied with a bow. “But you did leave the ‘door’ open. I cannot imagine that you would do so mistakenly.”

“True enough,” the masked young man replied. He glanced at the weaponry littering the ground and gave the knife in his right hand an elegant spin. The blades strewn across the earth dissolved, flowing back into the one in his hand like ribbons of mist. “You were not the visitor I had expected,” he said, sounding more somber than usual.

Ling Qi felt awkward. “I am sorry. Did you wish for me to come back later?”

“No, no, do not worry your head over your Senior Brother’s disputes,” he said, waving a hand now empty of weaponry dismissively as he strolled closer. “What is it that ails you, Junior Sister? Nerves regarding the live exercises? Troubled cultivation? Advice about wooing a suitor or damaging a rival? Your humble Senior Brother can aid you in finding answers for all of that and more.”

Ling Qi frowned at the barrage of offers, and the question of who he had been waiting for faded from her thoughts. She considered how to word her request. “Have you heard the rumors regarding Lady Cai and myself?”

“Which ones?” Liao Zhu asked, looking at her with amusement as he tugged at his mask, straightening the snarling fangs. “That you are her secret shadow, crafted by her mother and left to grow among the mortals as an experiment? Perhaps the one in which you are secret lovers in the vein of the Duchess’ own escapades? Or mayhaps you refer to the rumor wherein ‘you’ are merely the gown you wear, puppeting a hapless commoner who surely couldn’t have risen to such heights on their own.”

Ling Qi gaped at him and in her head, Sixiang snorted.

“Told you wearing the same dress all the time was a bad idea,” her muse laughed, voice carried on the wind.

Ling Qi grimaced. “Hush, you,” she grumbled, glancing out of habit at the empty air where Sixiang’s words emanated from. “No,” she ground out. “I mean the rumors regarding our recent absence.”

Liao Zhu regarded her silently, his bombastic amusement fading away in a moment. “A serious matter then. Let this Senior Brother apologize for his jape then,” he said, sketching a bow. “I am afraid that I have been too busy to immerse myself in the Sect rumor mill recently.”

Ling Qi sighed. “It’s fine,” she said. Perhaps it was best just to be blunt. “Bandits slipped over the border and stole something belonging to the Duchess. They sacked a town and ran off. Lady Cai and I were sent to take care of it.”

When she looked at Liao Zhu, she found him looking at her gravely, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I see. Your first real combat then?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ling Qi murmured. “I’ve fought beasts and spirits lethally before, and… once, there was a barbarian, but…” Even for a savage, he had been more monster than man, and in any case, he had killed himself before her arrow could land.

“It is not the same. You took lives then?” he asked gently.

“Many, and one directly with my own hands,” Ling Qi replied. Even with her senses extended across the battlefield, the ones who had fallen in her Mist seemed more distant, perhaps because of how many ways her attention had been divided when the blow fell. Not so the renegade Bai.

“It is a hard thing,” he said neutrally.

“How do you deal with it?” Ling Qi asked. “I mean, I suppose you mostly deal with barbarians, but…”

“Not so. My hands are crimson with Imperial blood as well,” Liao Zhu interrupted. “Bandits, deserters, and even those who defect, seeking to join our foes. I have played judge and executioner for them all, and…”

“And?” Ling Qi asked cautiously.

“And the look of life and spirit fading is much the same, Imperial or barbarian,” he finished grimly. “However in this one thing, your Senior Brother can only be of limited help.”

“Oh,” Ling Qi replied, feeling deflated. Some part of her had hoped that he would have some wise answer that could put her doubts to rest.

“I have told you before of what I seek. I seek to find ways to prevent people from falling into the extremes of vice and crime, and when that fails, I seek to deal precise and exact justice, cutting with the precision of a surgeon’s blade, removing only the most diseased of tissue in the name of bringing health to the body of the Empire,” he continued. “To that end, I have ended lives. To that end, I must never cease questioning the rightness of my actions. If solace and acceptance is what you seek, I cannot help.”

<No easy answers, huh?> Sixiang murmured, and Ling Qi felt the phantom touch of a hand on her shoulder.

“I guess it was silly for me to expect there to be one. I even had a bunch of great spirits telling me that things were complicated,” Ling Qi said wryly. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Senior Brother.”

“It is not wasted. I remain a font of powerful advice,” the older disciple replied, some of his humor returning. “Junior Sister, you will face such choices again and again in this cruel world of ours. Do not allow yourself to become convinced that lives are without weight. That is the path of the tyrant and the butcher. Neither should you be excessive in your mercy however. Weigh the lives that fall into your hands, and consider the value of each one, the good and the harm that it might do if left unsevered. When you have, then you can make your choice in good conscience.”

Ling Qi remembered the village’s broken walls and ruined fields. She remembered her glimpse of still smoldering buildings and bloodstained streets. She considered the things that she was only just becoming aware of, the potential for violence and instability that the raid had created, spreading far beyond any one village. She tried to weigh it against dead faces in the mud and a cracked tangle of frozen limbs.

“I don’t think I like this,” Ling Qi said quietly.

“If you did, I would be deeply concerned, Junior Sister,” Liao Zhu said wryly. For a moment, he looked as if he was going to tussle her hair like a fond older brother, but he seemed to think better of it and turned away. “Regardless, you should seek to settle yourself. You have only a few days until the exercises.”

Ling Qi straightened up and nodded. She would just have to keep walking her path, doubts and all.

Threads 46 Signs 1

Ling Qi stood at attention in line with the rest of her classmates in the scouting division as they waited for their respective tutors to return from conferring with the other officers for this Sect exercise. On the plateau below where they stood, the disciples of the other divisions milled and formed up. This exercise was a gigantic operation, a full-scale patrol passing through forts at the edge of the Sect’s control.

She was able to look over the other disciples, even standing straight and looking ahead. All it took to see around her was humming under her breath and allowing Sixiang to carry the melody on the wind. There were many familiar faces down there. Cai Renxiang was there, standing at perfect attention, immaculate in every way as always. While Ling Qi could see the furtive looks shot Cai Renxiang’s way, she was unsurprised. The Duchess would obviously not exempt her daughter from military exercises.

Less welcome, she saw Ji Rong off to one side, golden coils looped around his neck like a scarf. His spirit was smaller than she had expected, barely second realm. It surprised her that the taciturn boy would bother with something so much weaker than him, rare or no. It made her wonder at the veracity of the rumor Xiulan had passed along.

Shen Hu slouched sleepily in the line to Ji Rong’s right, and the older boy’s eyes flicked in her direction as her awareness passed over him.

There was Xiulan, standing proudly in another new gown, a yellow piece that left her shoulders scandalously bare, with her arms crossed under her chest among the archers and other ranged combatants.

And though she was too far away to sense her, Ling Qi knew that Li Suyin was back among the auxiliaries and medics as well. So was Yan Renshu for that matter. She had felt the boy’s slimy qi passing by her earlier in the morning.

More amusing was Kang Zihao’s presence, out front in the forming vanguard. His sour expression told her everything she needed to know about what he thought of being here. Even as she watched, a nervous twitch went up his spine as someone walked behind him. The last year had done its damage to the boy’s nerves.

Before Ling Qi could ponder the other disciples further, she felt the pressure of powerful and familiar qi approaching. Their commanding officer and mentors landed in front of them, descending from the command tents above. Guan Zhi was the first, rising smoothly from her landing crouch to glance across the assembled line, seeking imperfections in their attention. She looked much the same as she had on the first day of training with a countenance as stone-faced as that of her older and more famous relative, her uncle Sect Elder Guan Zhou. Liao Zhu and the other mentors landed a moment later with barely a thump or a rustle of cloth.

“Our orders have been finalized,” the athletic girl began, folding her arms behind her back in a familiar lecturing pose. “You have all been judged at least adequate in drills and training, some more than others…”

Ling Qi restrained the urge to squirm as the young woman’s gaze fell on her. She had been so close to reaching her evacuation point with her mock unit in the last drill. She had left the pass behind them filled with mist, phantoms, and Zhengui, stymying their pursuers… or so she had thought. It would be hard to forget the sight of Guan Zhi silhouetted against the evening sun, Zhengui’s bulk lifted over her head in the instant before her not-so-little brother had been hurled at her like a screaming meteor and collapsed the passage they were going to use to escape.

<I chipped my fangs,> Zhen sulked in her head.

<Cheating lady,> Gui grumped.

<I think you might be rubbing off on me. I like her,> Sixiang chuckled.

It was only later that she had learned that the exercise was meant to test their reactions in a seemingly futile situation. She took some pride in that she had been the only one to make their instructor escalate. Still, she couldn’t say whether the near invisible upward quirk of Guan Zhi’s lips in the moment where their eyes met was just imagination or not.

“This operation is more than just watching for barbarian hunters straying into our territory,” Guan Zhi continued as if the second-long exchange had not happened. “Patrols such as these are a regular requirement at the edge of civilized lands. It is a cultivator’s duty to track, monitor, and if necessary, deal with the spirits of the land in territory they control. As the scouting division, in addition to checking for signs of barbarians, it will be your duty to update maps of spirit territory, as well as altered terrain within your assigned area and to pass that information back to the main group so that it may be dealt with as necessary.”

In the lull of silence that followed her words, Liao Zhu spoke up. “Of course, it is also the duty of our division to smooth out troubles before the main force arrives whenever we are able to. Whether a problem is one that you can deal with or one which requires the main force is a matter of personal judgement. However, there are dangers to the latitude which our division is given.”

Guan Zhi nodded sharply. “You will be expected to have completed your surveys and reports at the assigned times in the patrol schedule. Wasting time seeking glory with challenges that are beyond you will be a black mark on your record. This is not a trial hunt where you are seeking treasures. You are here to better the land and the Sect, not to seek personal power. Your mentors will be watching, but they will not interfere in your choices. Now go, and familiarize yourselves with your assignments.”

Ling Qi clapped her fists together and bowed her head in time with the others. Then it was time to split up. As she joined Liao Zhu and began moving toward the tents where she would pick up her subordinates for the task, she glanced at her mentor. “How much help are you actually allowed to give?” she asked.

“I can answer questions regarding normal operating procedures and share information regarding the previous state of the assigned area,” he said, clearly smirking behind his toothy mask. “Alas, I may not use my superior abilities to aid your survey efforts nor share my wisdom in the best path forward.”

“Good to know,” Ling Qi replied, breathing out as she leafed through the maps and documents he had handed her, scanning words and lines of ink, committing them to memory so that she wouldn’t have to consult them later. Moons above, it was just sinking in that she was going to be responsible for other people here.

“I will interfere if a fatality seems likely,” Laio Zhu said with much less of his usual bombast. “However, this will reflect very poorly on your assessment unless the circumstance is truly unusual.”

“What even counts as unusual anymore?” Ling Qi laughed, feeling a bit better from his assurance anyway.

He tapped a finger against the teeth of his mask thoughtfully. “Hmm… A sudden attack by a tribal war party? A rampaging fourth grade beast, hungry for the rare flesh of a xuan wu? Perhaps an ogre king descending from the high peaks to seek to charm a faerie bride with his superlative musculature?”

“That’s not funny,” Ling Qi said blandly, giving her mentor a flat look.

<Zhengui is not edible,> her little brother grumbled.

<I dunno. You were pretty snack-like still last year,> Hanyi teased. Ling Qi was pretty sure she wasn’t serious.

“Ah, but you asked, Junior Sister,” Liao Zhu said airily. “But rest well. Your Senior Brother shall ward off such threats with his peerless charm and skill. So keep your mind upon more grounded threats.”

Ling Qi huffed, turning her eyes back to the map for a moment, eyeing the area marked in red. She sent the whole stack to her ring then as they passed the outer ring of tents. She needed to pick up her subordinates. There were three people who had been assigned to her, and Ling Qi felt more awkward than she had in a long time. She had read swiftly through their dossiers on the way over, but it had not quite prepared her for the reality of the situation.

“Ma’am,” their voices echoed out simultaneously, three backs straightening and three gazes snapping forward as she approached. The first of them, Mo Lian, was the youngest, twenty-five years old and mid second realm in both forms of cultivation. He was almost as tall as her with dark hair and eyes, as well as a small, well cared for beard and mustache. According to the dossier, he was a cultivator of water and earth arts, who specialized in personal concealment and short-range sensory arts.

Chun Yan, the second, was also in the mid second realm, but she was nearly fifty years old, for all that she looked younger than Ling Qi’s mother. With her short hair pulled back and severe features, Ling Qi might have thought the woman a rather feminine man if her senses were less sharp. She specialized in wind arts and dabbled with heavenly ones. Her skills lay in her mobility and offensive arts

Chang He was the oldest, as well as the strongest, being nearly seventy years old and at the peak of the second realm. Despite his age, Ling Qi thought there might be decent odds that he could make the next step at some point going by the feel of his aura. Unlike the younger Mo Lian, he was clean shaven with a dark complexion similar to hers. Grey hair marked his temples and speckled the hair pulled back into a soldier’s topknot, and his weathered face showed his age more than one would expect for a cultivator in their first century. His specialties were in earth and wood arts with a lean toward defensive and social arts.

They were all dressed in the same Argent Peak Sect uniforms, armor of boiled leather over padded cloth with shimmering gray cloaks over their shoulders that seemed to blur and blend with the background at the edges. The cloaks, along with their boots, enhanced for sturdiness, comfort, and silence, made up the allocation of non-armament talismans for normal soldiers of the Sect’s scout division. In addition to their personal specialization, they all had a solid grounding in arts and skills useful for scouting and wilderness survival.

Ling Qi tried to keep her thoughts on such materially important matters, instead of how weird it felt to be commanding three people, the youngest of which was a decade her elder and the oldest of which could easily be her grandfather. The same had probably been true for the Cai troops, but those had been Cai Renxiang’s troops, not hers. She supposed these people were ultimately the Sect’s though. It would be better if she continued to see this as a training exercise.

“Be at ease,” she said with only slight hesitation. She could feel Liao Zhu smirking at her back and hear Sixiang snickering in her head. She ignored them as best she could.

It was time to decide on how to split up the first day’s workload. They had quite a lot of ground to cover, but at the same time, the area she had been assigned was noted to be fairly dangerous as border regions went with a heavy spirit presence.

To that end, Ling Qi decided to travel as a group for the initial scouting. This would slow them down, but it would also allow her to get a better feel for her team and a more comprehensive feel for the region before taking care of individual issues.

***

Ling Qi sped along a narrow ledge no wider than her arm. Shimmering silver lights winked and glowed from within the folds of her gown, peering out like eyes in every direction, and the quiet hum of the Spring Breeze Canto gave her brief flashes of imagery from both the birds overhead and the beasts in the valley below. Each time a cloud passed over the sun, Ling Qi skipped forward, flickering a meter or two ahead without taking a step or missing a beat.

Crossing distances without moving had never been easier and more instinctive. She had been using the Sable Crescent Step technique since almost the beginning of her path of cultivation, and the movements and qi flows came to her as naturally as breathing. She had come so very far since those first stumbling practice steps, and Ling Qi would never allow herself to stop here. She had seen the heights to which she still had to ascend, and she could not be satisfied with herself as she was now.

She knew there was no peace in emptiness, no content in stillness. With her mastering the eighth and final step of the Sable Crescent Step art, she had internalized the lesson taught to her by it, which had been reinforced by the moon phases during her spirit journey to Tonghou. Stagnation was death. She knew that to follow her Path, she had to act, change, move, think, and grow until the very End.

So although she felt lighter on her feet than ever, Ling Qi still felt troubled. Over the past months, Liao Zhu had taught her much about how to scout and track, as well as procedures and etiquette, but she had not really learned too much about commanding yet. She let her perceptions drift to her “subordinates” running along a wider path below. She had decided that they should stay together until she had a better idea of what they were facing, but now she had no idea how to interact with them properly.

<You could just talk to them, you know?> Sixiang pointed out. <Like maintain the formalities, I guess, but just jump down and have a chat?>

Ling Qi worried that letting on just how out of depth she was would undermine her supposed authority though. While that did not bother her much, wasn’t that sort of thing supposed to be important for soldiers?

<Ling Qi.> She winced, feeling as if Sixiang was giving her a flat stare. <You’re making excuses.>

<Dunno why you’re so worried, Big Sister. It’s just a bunch of weaklings, and they’re not even family either. Who cares what they think?> Hanyi drawled, sounding bored.

<Hanyi is really proud for someone who hides under Gui all the time,> her little brother grumbled.

Ling Qi frowned as they descended to bickering again. She was making excuses. Why though? Even as she leaped across a gap in the path ahead, the answer came to her. She had no idea how to interact with them. Was it even worth spending extra time on them? As long as they stayed together, she could take care of any difficult parts herself and just let them take care of the easy issues.

In her own mind, Ling Qi could not ignore the conclusion that arose. She wasn’t really thinking of them like subordinates. She was thinking of them like charges to care for or obstacles to be worked around. Ling Qi closed her eyes and sighed, ignoring Sixiang’s knowing chuckle.

A moment later, she flickered, and her feet touched the ground beside the eldest soldier, Chang He. To his credit, he didn’t so much as flinch as she materialized beside him, keeping pace with his run effortlessly. “Trouble nearby, ma’am?” he asked crisply.

“No,” Ling Qi replied, maintaining a stoic tone. “We are approaching the destination. I wanted to know if you were familiar with the area already and if you had any recommendations on how we should proceed.”

<Very dignified. Nine out of ten on the effortless poise,> Sixiang murmured.

His eyes flicked in her direction as his boots continued to pound the ground, and though his expression remained even, she felt a fluctuation in his spirit that seemed to be a wary surprise. “I have not made this run myself in some time, ma’am. I believe Mo Lian and Chun Yan are more familiar.”

She glanced back, and a moment later, she was beside the younger man, who stiffened in surprise but didn’t stumble. “You heard the conversation?” she asked, knowing perfectly well that he had. They were all running in a loose formation only a few meters apart.

“I did,” Mo Lian replied stiffly. “I had some hand in writing the reports you were furnished with, ma’am.”

She gave him a sidelong look. There was the faintest hint of something accusatory there, well hidden behind discipline. “I am not asking you to repeat the report. I have read it. I wanted to know if you had any recommendations for how to proceed based on your experience with previous runs.”

She felt a faint ripple of qi from her left and glanced toward Chun Yan, knowing that the woman had restrained herself from laughing. “I may be more powerful, but I should not waste your experience. I would like to hear anything the three of you have to say before we begin.”

Seeing them from all angles, it was impossible to miss the faint shifts in body language and expression that passed between the three scouts. It looked like she had managed to avoid embarrassing herself

The man beside her dipped his head slightly, despite not slowing his run in the slightest as she flickered and floated beside him. “The most consistent danger is the river spirit that inhabits the main waterway. It is a volatile creature that is often difficult to predict. However, if it is calmed first, its calm passes to the lesser water spirits as well and makes the scouting simpler.”

“The fat fish is bad-tempered and proud. Killing it will just make things worse though. It’ll have reformed by next season, and the fight always floods the valleys making it harder for the ones coming behind. Puts it in a worse mood for the next run too,” the woman, Chun Yun, added.

“... The last one to come through definitely killed it, didn’t they?” Ling Qi sighed knowingly.

<Amazing prediction,> Sixiang chuckled.

The two soldiers shared a glance. “Yes, ma’am,” Mo Lian replied, sounding mildly chagrined. “I was asked to leave the matter out of the report so…”

“Well, don’t stop there,” Ling Qi said. “Any other surprises?”

She spent the rest of the trip to their assigned area listening to details and anecdotes about past runs, both here and elsewhere. It took some time for the soldiers to begin speaking more freely. Conversation died down as they reached their destination.

The region Ling Qi had been assigned to survey was a network of river valleys that lay between high cliffs, rivers flowing down from glacial headwaters deeper in the Wall. It was much greener than most landscapes that lay this far south, rich with vegetation and beasts alike. Soon, they arrived at a cliff overlooking the main span of the river that ran through their assigned region.

The scouts perched atop the cliff, crouching with their qi suppressed and their shimmering cloaks wrapped around them. Ling Qi might have mistaken her subordinates for large stones, if her senses had been less sharp. She herself stood in the shadow of an old and gnarled tree, clinging to the cliff’s edge, her aura muted and her outline wavering into the shadows.

“Will you be proceeding with the plan you outlined then, ma’am?” Chang He asked in a low voice. She had a feeling he was not confident that her plan was wise.

Ling Qi considered, gazing down at the river and getting a sense for its qi. “The disciple who slew it - were they above the foundation stage?”

“He was not,” the old man replied.

“And he was not the scion of a great house?” Ling Qi asked evenly.

“No, ma’am,” Chang He said, lowering his eyes.

“Then I am confident,” Ling Qi replied. “Hold position, and keep yourselves hidden. I do not want the spirit to think it is being ambushed.”

They did not salute or shout an agreement for obvious reasons. Hopefully, when this was over, the doubt she sensed in their postures and words would be curbed, if not silenced.

Threads 47 Signs 2

<You’ve got this,> Sixiang encouraged.

Ling Qi appreciated the sentiment as she leaped lightly down from the cliff, floating like a leaf on the breeze. As her feet touched the damp grass on the river’s shore, she stopped restraining her qi, and her flute materialized in her hand. The moment she did, the lazy ripples of the slow flowing river churned and thrashed. She glimpsed a piscine silhouette forming beneath the surface before a jet of extremely dense pressurized water shot out and cut straight through her chest, carving a gouge in the rock behind her. Ling Qi raised her flute to her lips as her form wavered back into solidity, unperturbed by the attack.

The shape in the water thrashed to the surface, and she heard the spirit speak in a warbling, bubbling voice that trembled with indignant rage. “You impudent savages! You dare return to challenge this river again! Do not think that this resplendent one will fall for your underhanded tricks again!”

The spirit was very large. At six meters long, it was the largest fish she had ever seen. Its scales gleamed like sapphires in the morning sunlight. It had a wide flat head with thick fleshy whiskers that trembled like a rotund man’s jowls as it spoke.

“O master of the valley,” Ling Qi spoke formally, even as she sidestepped another cutting jet of water. “Please be calm. This humble supplicant wishes only to offer apologies for the indignities laid upon you.”

“Yoooooou,” the river spirit rumbled in its quivering voice. “Do you really think this mighty one is so easily tricked? Fool! Trickster! Charlatan!”

<Man, this guy is making a mess of the scenery in more ways than one,> Sixiang said drolly as Ling Qi jumped and dashed along the rising top of the wave that emerged from the river, circling to pull its attention away from her subordinates’ hiding place.

<Right? Are you sure we can’t just ice this big dumb fish over?> Hanyi huffed. <Like some lazy carp deserves one of Big Sister’s songs.>

Ling Qi continued speaking, maintaining her formal and respectful tone even as she danced atop churning waters that sucked at the soles of her shoes.

“A thousand apologies, O resplendent master,” she began, careful to keep the grin out of her voice. “Please allow this humble one to make an offering. Long have I contemplated your flowing waters and rich depths, and I have composed a song in your honor!” She was lying. She had been composing a song about a different river, but it was not so hard to switch out some details in the piece on the spot. “I beg of you to allow me to make an offering and begin making amends!”

All the while as she spoke, she continued to avoid the spirit’s efforts, landing back on the far shore as she spoke her last words. The massive carp regarded her balefully, whiskers shaking and gills fluttering with exertion. It reminded her of a fat, red-faced merchant giving up on catching a fleet-footed thief. “This magnanimous one will give you one chance, savage. But if this is treachery…!”

“Of course not,” she said with a smile. “Thank you so much for your understanding. I call this piece ‘Shimmering Vale.’”

Ling Qi raised her flute to her lips and began to play, and soon, the valley was filled with music. The world seemed to grow still as her notes painted a melody that spoke of a rich and vibrant river, carrying life across the land. It was, Ling Qi thought, not one of her best pieces given the hasty alterations, but the spirit was swiftly entranced anyway. It looked like her subordinates’ reports of the creature’s pride were not inaccurate.

Later, after the waters had receded and the spirit dispersed back to its resting state, Ling Qi was joined on the shore by her subordinates.

“I think that went well,” Ling Qi commented lightly.

“It did indeed. I was not aware that you were so prodigious a musician, ma’am,” Chang He replied, dipping his head respectfully. “Spirits of the land often desire devotion and respect. The purity of your expression will serve you in good stead in such dealings.”

Mo Lian nodded, nervously tugging at his beard as he glanced at the waters. “Still, without more material offerings, it is a stopgap. We should proceed.”

“Yes,” Ling Qi agreed, her feet lifting off the ground. “Chun Yan, take point as we fan out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the older woman replied immediately. Ling Qi was gratified to see that there was little doubt left in her voice.

From there, using Liao Zhu’s advice, they fanned out, not separating far but enough to cover ground more efficiently. Ling Qi took on an overwatch role, soaring overhead as the three of them combed the paths and trails in the region. Many had been washed out by flooding, but the damage was not too bad.

As the sun began to descend from its zenith, they came back together atop a high cliff overlooking the river to compile what they had found over the course of the morning and early afternoon.

“It looks like we’ll have to update the maps quite a bit,” Ling Qi mused, seated in a tree branch. “Is that normal out here?”

“It is not natural for rock spirits to move so much in a single year,” Cheng He said from his position by their small fire. “One or perhaps two passes shifting is normal enough, but we have already discovered four that have closed. The earth spirits are agitated.”

There had been a certain majesty to watching whole cliffs and hills groan and crawl, shifting visibly before her eyes. However, Cheng He was right. It was an unusual and worrying phenomenon, one not so easily solved as a single rowdy and vengeful river spirit.

“New paths open when old ones close. It’s annoying but not real trouble,” said Chun Yan. “The desolation in the southeastern valley is more worrying. Last time I saw withering like that, my village lost its whole harvest to the black earthworms. Something has been letting them grow beyond their normal numbers and size.”

The valley Chun Yan spoke of was a withered place, trees bare of leaves and even the grass and weeds withered and shrunken. She had seen all-too-familiar worms poking their eyeless heads out of the earth, the actinic scent of lightning drifting from their maws. She had only glimpsed Yan Renshu’s real spirit beast once, but the worms that she had seen in the valley dwarfed it in size.

“The tunnels I sensed were worryingly large,” Mo Lian said, tugging nervously at his beard. “But I am more concerned about the Old Watch. The ruin has been silent for as long as I can remember, but you all saw the dancing bones and heard the cries in the air.”

“The dead should not walk,” Cheng He said darkly. “It shames those who still live.”

The Old Watch was a fortification which had belonged to the clan that had owned this land before Ogodei. It had been the site of one of the early battles in the war. The people there had been slaughtered, and later, a second group sent to recapture the site had been ambushed and killed by barbarians as well. According to the report, the site had previously been thoroughly exorcised and was now quiescent, if still uninhabitable due to the malice infecting the air.

Ling Qi hummed to herself. They would no doubt find more trouble in the days to come as they filled in the holes left by their general exploration today. However, none of them needed rest just yet, so it occurred to Ling Qi that before they were forced to begin splitting up to address smaller problems, perhaps they could solve one of these larger issues.

Idly, she glanced toward the setting sun and wondered where Liao Zhu was. She supposed it didn’t matter.

“The matter of the moving mountains is the most important one for us to investigate,” Ling Qi announced as authoritatively as she could manage. “As long as we mark down the other two as problem areas, the main group should be better suited to handle those.”

She glanced between her subordinates while they chorused “Yes, ma’am,” but she did not notice any discontent. That was good, she thought.

“I am more experienced with spirit beasts and moon spirits than earth spirits,” she continued. “Do you have any advice on how to approach the task?”

There was a brief pause, but then Chang He spoke up. “The trouble with earth spirits is getting them to notice you. That goes double for wild spirits of mountain and vale.”

“He is right,” Mo Lian agreed. “To a mountain, we are all flickering, ephemeral things. It is difficult for them to hear our words as more than the buzzing of flies.”

Their third member gave a grunt of agreement. “I mostly hit things, but that sounds about right.”

Ling Qi hummed in thought. She just might have the seed of an idea.

<Yeah that’s a ‘you’ idea all right,> Sixiang laughed.

<Big Sister can count on me!> Gui agreed happily.

“Assuming that I can get one’s attention, do you believe you can make contact?” Ling Qi asked aloud.

The three soldiers shared a glance, marked with unease. “Yes, I believe so, ma’am,” Chang He agreed.

Ling Qi slid off of her branch, floating lightly to the ground. “Let’s be off then.”

***

It did not take too long to reach the edge of the troubled area.

Little hills and peaks rose from the vale, and branches of the river threaded between like ribbons of silver. The afternoon sunlight gleamed beautifully off rocks and water. However, despite the appearance of serene majesty, it was clear that something was wrong. No birdsong rang in the air, and the river’s paths were distorted, water flooding through trees and plants rather than flowing through the proper channels.

At a glance, there seemed to be no source to this, but if she watched very carefully, she could see that the mountains were moving. It was so slow as to be near imperceptible to the eye, noticeable only after minutes of watching. It would take many hours for one of the peaks to move even a meter, but when the thing involved was so large… Ling Qi could feel the vibrations of their migration in her bones when she stood upon the ground.

It took some time to find what they were looking for among the moving peaks, and in that time, Ling Qi explained her plan. Soon enough, they found their target, the smallest of the peaks, more of a large hill than a mountain, moving positively quickly compared to its larger kin.

Stopping on the shore of the river that wound around its base, Ling Qi released Zhengui. Her little brother stamped his feet in happiness as he materialized, pleased that he could be of help. Ling Qi smiled and pretended not to notice the expressions on her subordinates’ faces at the appearance of Zhengui.

“Are you ready to begin?” she asked instead, patting Gui on the head as he bumped his blunt snout against her affectionately.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Chang He replied, tearing his eyes away from Zhengui. He stood at her side. The others were fanned out through the area, watching in case things became troubled. “Whenever you are ready.”

“Alright then,” Ling Qi said, slipping out of her authoritative tone as she grinned. “Zhengui, make this fellow stop for a moment.”

“Yes!” he announced cheerfully, turning toward the hill so very slowly moving toward them. He stomped forward, and qi flooded into the earth. Grass and shrubs gleamed with emerald light as unnatural roots churned the soil, growing downward and anchoring the earth as Zhengui rammed his head into the stony hillside.

“My Big Sister wants to talk, so you had better listen!” Zhen announced, eyeing the great pile of earth and stone imperiously. Behind him, Ling Qi silently breathed out and activated the Thousand Rings Unbreaking technique, enhancing the roots laid down and making her little brother truly immovable.

For a time, there was no sound save for the growl of effort made by her little brother as the stone he had pressed his head against pushed harder and harder against him. Ling Qi grimaced at the expense of activating the expensive technique a second time, but she was soon rewarded as stone splintered with an audible crack and the hill shook, a noise like a subsonic groan rattling her bones. For the first time, she felt the weight of the hill's qi shift, changing from a dissipated awareness to a focused attention on the obstacle in its path.

She glanced at Chang He, who nodded sharply and kneeled down, digging his hands into the soil. He spoke slowly and deliberatively, clearly enunciating each syllable. “Old One, what ails you? Why do your kind move with such speed and in such numbers?” She felt the pulse of qi in his words, conveying more than spoken words. An art then. To more clearly communicate with spirits?

It took a long moment before there was any response, but eventually with much groaning and grinding, the hill's eyes, two great clefts in the earth, black as pitch save for the flickering of pale blue flame in their depths, opened. The whole hill rumbled, a long string of noise and jumbled expression that Ling Qi was nonetheless able to decipher, thanks to her skill at music.

Chang He relayed the words even as she mulled them over in her thoughts. “The fallen star stirs. Destruction burns below,” the old man said slowly, sounding troubled.

“It is afraid,” Ling Qi confirmed what she could sense Chang He thinking. Wasn’t that a worrying thought? “Ask it where the ‘star’ is.”

Chang He repeated his question, but the reply was only marginally helpful. “South. Always south, and deep below.” Chang He grimaced as the rumbling ceased.

Further questioning proved mostly useless, and they received only fragmented answers and vague references. There was “poison rising from the deepest depths” and “the winter winds would awaken the crumbling titan.” All very ominous, but none of it very clear or helpful. The longer they forced the hill to remain still, the more agitated it was becoming too.

Eventually, they withdrew, and as they others rejoined them, she asked the first question that came to mind. “Did any of that make sense to you? I’ve never heard of a real falling star.” While the term was used fairly often as a poetic descriptor for different celestial phenomena, actual stars didn’t move. They were just hidden while the sun moved overhead.

<Right? I don’t get it,> Sixiang said, sounding frustrated. <Still, I feel like I almost remember something.>

Chang He and Mo Lian remained silent, the younger of the two tugging nervously at his beard. However, it was Chun Yan who spoke up, a frown on her hard features. “I remember my gran telling a story ‘bout the gods sending down a star to punish a wicked dragon king. Just an old folk tale though.”

They all fell silent for a moment. “It is probably just a flowery metaphor for something,” Ling Qi said. Even reading the expression directly, a falling star was just a burning radiance descending from the sky. It almost reminded her of the Duchess, but the Cai’s light techniques lacked the rippling veils of color expressed by the hills “words.” “Perhaps a powerful spirit beast died in the south, and its blood is poisoning the earth.”

“Seems more likely,” Chun Yan agreed.

“Yes, that seems more likely. Should we search for the source then, ma’am?” Mo Lian asked.

“That would probably be for the best,” she agreed. “You’ll lead us then. Focus on the ground, and look for unusual traces. The rest of us will keep watch while you search.”

The clear order seemed to snap them out of their thoughts, and once again Ling Qi was treated to three simultaneous “Yes, ma’am.”

<I dunno. Something gives me a bad feeling,> Sixiang murmured in her thoughts as they set off.

<I don’t like it either,> Hanyi said, speaking up for the first time in awhile. <The mountain was being creepy.>

<Do not worry. I, Zhen, will frighten away the scary lights for Hanyi,> Zhen hissed teasingly.

Ling Qi sighed as the noise in her head returned to normal levels. She was probably overthinking things.

Threads 48-Signs 3

Once again, she took an overwatch position as they began to make their way south, painstakingly searching for unusual qi in the soil.

Below, her subordinates took on a triangle formation with Mo Lian at the head and the other two fanned out behind him. The search was rather dull to begin with. False leads led only to minor parasitic spirits or earth gasses tainting soil. She left the subdual of the former to Chun Yan, who was quick and competent about striking and cutting down spirits with strong thrusts of the spear she carried on her back. The three of them worked well as a team, strengthening her suspicion that the three were quite familiar with each other. Chun Yan was the spear, and Chang He was the shield. Mo Lian was the odd man out, acting to support the other two with a more varied set of skills.

As they traveled further south however, the false leads dried up. There was a winding vein of something strange in the earth. Where it passed, grass and trees showed faint signs of withering sickness, and certain spirit beasts were more aggressive. It seemed that the more closely aligned a spirit was to earth or wood qi, the greater the effect. Even Zhengui reported feeling slightly queasy when he dug his roots into the earth where the strange taint passed. They struck down maddened beasts as necessary and kept pressing south.

Eventually, the trail led them to a grey and withered valley filled with bubbling muck. The grasses and plants within were twisted and grey, save for tumorous patches of color that marked the bark of some trees.

They had not been able to investigate peacefully. Blighted and glowing insects had swarmed out the moment Mo Lian had stepped over a seemingly arbitrary line, and it was only a swift activation of the Forgotten Vale Melody that had driven the bugs back. From there on, Ling Qi stayed with the group, her melody driving back the veritable carpet of chittering, sickly beasts that would have otherwise threatened to overwhelm them with sheer numbers.

The sickness in the soil ran deep here, welling up from a depth far beyond her ability to sense. At the very center of the tainted valley, the mud gleamed with vibrant color from all across the spectrum, glowing and pulsing eerily under the darkening sky.

Ling Qi had little desire to linger once they had found the center of the phenomenon. They dug for a time to see if the source could be unearthed, but it resulted only in a growing nausea among her subordinates. Even Ling Qi found her skin prickling under the strange glow, and perhaps it was only her imagination, but her gown rustled unnaturally, the trailing hems seeming to shy away from the sickly light.

She had ordered the withdrawal after that, setting the three of them to set fire breaks around the valley. Once it was done, she had Zhen spray his venom across everything that was even vaguely flammable. When in doubt, purifying by flame was rarely wrong. That done, she resolved to mark down both the valley and trail of poison in her report and let someone more qualified deal with purging the taint.

Once they had reached a safe distance, she dismissed the scouts to make camp. They would rest for two hours to recover their qi and then begin working on the rest of the region. As Ling Qi seated herself atop a flat rock to meditate however, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Senior Brother,” she greeted calmly, refusing to rise to his bait.

“Junior Sister,” Liao Zhu greeted in turn, seated on the trunk of a tree that hung crookedly from the cliffside on which she was perched. “I am glad to see your nerves remain in good condition.”

“Of course,” she replied dryly. “Senior Brother, what do you make of what we found today?”

“Ah, but that would be telling, Junior Sister. I am disappointed that you would seek to use your Senior Brother’s unmatched experience to pad your score,” he jested. She turned her head just enough to give him a flat look. He laughed at her, but his gaze sharpened. “It is somewhat concerning. This is not a matter for Inner disciples, I think. You did well.”

“Have you ever heard of a falling star?” she asked, almost whimsically.

Liao Zhu, however, considered her question seriously. “I have, and it is why I am concerned.”

Ling Qi frowned. “Where have you heard of it? An old village tale like Chun Yan?”

“Nay. My family is from the capital, Junior Sister. We have served the Dukes of Emerald Seas since the early days of the Hui.” He laughed. “Though our current Duchess has little use for physicians. Why, my father told me that she performed the operation to deliver your liege herself!”

Ling Qi blinked and then shook her head. “You’re trying to distract me,” she accused.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, the grin fading from his tone. “But I have spent many long hours watching and infiltrating the Cloud Tribes,” he said gravely. “There is an old tale, which they speak of in the same way that we do our Fishers, Diviners, and Conquerors. They say that pitying the plight of the men who toiled under the dragons, Father Sky summoned the brightest star in the sky, his daughter, to free them of their bondage. Before that star, the artifice and mighty works of the dragons crumbled like dust. When the dragons fell, the star elected to remain on Mother Earth and took a husband from among the freed tribes. She bore a son who would be their first leader. However, while the star was the daughter of Father Sky, she was not born of Mother Earth, and so they and their descendants were to be denied the blessings of Earth and live their lives in the Sky and the Mountains.”

Ling Qi shifted uneasily at that abridged legend. “Do you think the Cloud Tribes really have a Sublime Ancestor somewhere in the Wall?”

“There is no proof of such a thing,” Laio Zhu replied. “And you will be laughed at if you suggest it. Imperial scholars have long debunked their primitive myths, and the living dragons scoff at such stories.” She couldn’t help but feel that he was being a bit disingenuous with that statement. “But your Senior Brother is perhaps a touch paranoid.”

“You’re pretty bad at setting the mind at ease,” Ling Qi said.

“I am no such thing,” he denied in a voice full of wounded pride. “For that was not my intent. Be careful on the morrow, Junior Sister.”

Before she could reply, he was gone.

<He’s great to look at and all, but I think he likes that mysterious act a little too much,> Sixiang said flatly.

<You’re not wrong,> Ling Qi sighed, closing her eyes to meditate. She couldn’t let herself get worried over stories. If a horde of barbarians came screaming over the border, she’d worry about it then. For now, she needed to plan the rest of the scouting.

***

“You sure this is what you want to do?” Sixiang asked, the breeze kicked up by their speech sending Ling Qi’s hair fluttering. “You decided yesterday that sticking together was better.”

“It is,” Ling Qi agreed, looking down from the cliffside at the shrinking backs of her subordinates as they descended into the valley. “That’s why they’re staying in a loose formation while they do their tasks. They’ll be able to support each other.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Sixiang replied dryly.

“I know,” she sighed, looking toward the south. “I’ll link up with them in the afternoon, but I need to check out the south. I just have a bad feeling.”

“I guess I can’t tell you to ignore that. Adventure ho then, eh?” Sixiang called out.

<You guys are so weird. It’s not like you’re going by yourself,> Hanyi huffed in annoyance.

<Hanyi is right! There’s nothing to worry about!> Zhengui agreed.

Hanyi wasn’t wrong, Ling Qi thought wryly, turning to the south as her feet left the ground. They weren’t far from the area she wanted to search, so she would not have to fly far. Their hunt for the source of the poison in the earth had already taken them to the southeastern quadrant of their assigned area. The edge of the zone was easy to see, little mountains, hills, and vales gave way to ramparts of sheer stone that rose up to pierce the clouds, marked only by occasional straggling patches of vegetation.

As she soared over the land, Ling Qi had to wonder at that. Here, just south of the jutting peaks where the Sect made its home, the wall was green and vibrant, these stretches of verdant valleys and little mountains stretching across the landscape, interrupted by chains of much higher peaks. But go only a short distance further, and the Wall rose in truth. The peaks that rose to the south were massive things. White Cloud Mountain pierced the clouds at its peak, but the mountains of the Wall blocked out almost the whole of the southern sky.

At least those mountains were not moving, Ling Qi thought wryly. They would all be in trouble then. Even still, there was something ominous and humbling about them like being in the presence of a higher cultivator. It brought to mind troubling thoughts about how very small she was.

Now was not the time for philosophical quandaries however, so Ling Qi focused on her destination and flew ever higher. She had learned in her lessons that the Cloud Tribes preferred to make their camps near the cloud line. Camps above the clouds were more common for raiders, who did not have to worry about the survival of younger and less hardy individuals.

With that in mind, Ling Qi flew through the clouds, the dense moisture failing to so much as wet the tips of her hair or the hems of her gown. Soon, she soared above the slowly churning cloudscape and began her search of the bare masses of stone that jutted into the sky through it. Without a spirit like her mentor, no snow could fall here, and yet many were still dotted with thick sheets of ice.

The high mountains were a unique place. Very little lived or grew here, but what did was always strange and a little alien. She searched through fields of pale lichen as thick as the grasses below and soared over strange plants with pale fronds that rustled and seemed to follow her with their upturned leaves. At the very highest peaks where the sky began to grow dark and the faintest twinkle of starlight peaked through, Ling Qi did not linger long. There was no air fit for breath there, and even the world’s qi grew thin, making her skin prickle uncomfortably, similar to being in the presence of the source of that strange sickness she had ordered cordoned off.

However, Ling Qi did not pay too much attention to the region’s natural features, and instead focused on what signs she could find of barbarian activity, any distortions in the natural qi left behind by their passage or old bones and the scorch marks on the ground from old campsites. She did not meet with much success.

There were marks of their passage of course. She knew the tribes did not recognize Imperial borders, viewing the whole of the mountains as their domain. However, what she found were only old hunting camps, months old at best, certainly nothing that she could really follow up on nor anything that would legitimize the niggling ill feeling in her stomach.

As the day wore on and the sun reached its zenith and began to descend without her having found anything, Ling Qi began to think she had just let her nerves from last night’s discovery and her Senior Brother’s little tale get the better of her.

But then, as she began her descent toward the clouds, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. It was far away, little more than a blurry dot, perhaps a bird or a spirit, but it drew her attention all the same. And when she turned her head and focused on it, she saw that it was neither of those things.

Letting qi flood her eyes, Ling Qi saw a giant eagle with golden feathers. It flew in the sky, wings churning the clouds beneath it. More importantly, there was a man on its back.

She recognized his dress from both stories and the simulation from Elder Jiao’s trial the year before. He wore layers of fur and leather, rendering his figure bulky and indistinct, but she recognized the peaked fur hat and bone mask which covered his face. She had only a moment to take in the sight before he dipped back into the clouds.

Ling Qi paused then shot off in the direction that he had gone. Heeding Sixiang’s murmured words of caution in her thoughts, she blurred and faded as she activated technique after technique to cloak both her body and spirit from detection.

By the time she slipped into the clouds after the barbarian, she was little more than a dark blur flitting between thicker concentrations of cloud. Even so, she flew as fast as she could, wanting to find the barbarian’s trail before it faded away into the ambient water and wind qi which made up the clouds.

Soon, she found the trail he had left in the air. It was like the scent of a storm approaching on the breeze. She grew more cautious now that she had his trail, and she even caught a glimpse of the barbarian now and then, far ahead. He was in the third realm, but she couldn’t identify clearly what stage he was, if barbarians even cultivated their realms in the same way. His qi did not feel more or less potent than hers though.

Luckily, the weather had been slowly worsening all morning, clouds bunching up to grow thick and dark, pregnant with rain. Here and there, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed in their bellies. While it did make hiding her own qi easier, it also made her target harder to follow

The barbarian was moving south still. They were swiftly heading toward the edge of the region she had been assigned to. After spending all morning searching for signs of barbarians, she was loath to give up pursuit. What if he was a scout himself, heading back to camp to give the all clear?

Liao Zhu had surely seen him as well. Perhaps she could assume that he would message the Sect if he truly thought there was peril. If there was danger and she ignored it, that could reflect poorly on her. On the other hand, haring off after him could also be vainglorious like their Commander Guan Zhi had warned them off of, leaving Imperial lands and putting herself in danger for nothing.

<It’s just one guy,> Sixiang voiced her thoughts. <Could just be a hunter.>

She focused her attention on the qi trail she was following. The barbarian’s spirit didn’t taste of urgency or bloodlust, but there was a certain eagerness like an electric tingle on the wind. Through the churning cloud, she caught a glimpse of his flapping cloak in the wind. Ling Qi bit her lip, considering whether to follow him further.

As the man she had been following flew up out of the clouds toward the mountain that loomed like a godly rampart ahead, the air changed. Arriving all too suddenly like a freak summer shower that unleashed a torrential downpour from a formerly clear sky, two other presences flew down from the mountain to meet him. Two more figures in bulky furs riding golden eagles flew down from the cliffs and across the sky to meet the man in mid air, and the power of their spirits was not less than his. Although she still could not clearly sense their level of cultivation, she estimated that these two were significantly stronger, somewhere between threshold and formation.

Even as she thought that, she saw one of them stiffen in his saddle, straightening up as he turned his gaze to the clouds below where Ling Qi hid. Her eyes widening in alarm, Ling Qi immediately sank deeper into the clouds, darting between arcing threads of lightning to hide in the dark belly of the storm. Despite that, she saw the man raise a hand to the others and fly past, the wings of his eagle beating up and down as he flew toward her hiding place.

Gritting her teeth, Ling Qi focused on tightening her hold on her qi and dispersing her presence through the shadows that suffused the stormcloud. She remembered the lessons she had learned in mastering the Sable Crescent Step and the techniques that she had applied to better dodge attacks, and she vanished.

When the man flew through the storm, sparks of electricity dancing around the eye holes of his mask, he found only shadows, lightning, and a rumbling storm. Ling Qi watched him search and fly through where she was, her thoughts feeling as unfocused and detached as the qi that had been her body. It was not a comfortable feeling. It was like holding her breath as a mortal, and every second that passed sent a feeling like the burning of air-starved lungs through her spirit, and her focus threatened to crumble as her thoughts tried to float away like leaves on the wind.

Yet the moment passed, and the man flew back to his companions, departing for the mountain from whence they came. Ling Qi collapsed back into a single shape, her shoulders hunched as she wheezed in a breath of moist, storm-charged air. Despite that, her eyes followed the barbarians toward the mountain. They were definitely out of her bounds, but…

No, it wasn’t worth it. Even if she assumed that her estimation of the barbarians’ cultivation was too high, this was bad terrain. She had already put a significant drain on her reserves just by being in flight for so long, and she couldn’t even bring out Zhengui easily if it came to a fight. Not to mention, even if she did manage to sneak amongst them, she didn’t know any of the tongues of the Cloud Tribes, something she would have to rectify when she could find the time. While she could probably pick up some meaning by leaning on her comprehension of music, it wouldn’t be enough to make up for the risk.

Ling Qi shot down through the clouds, keeping her qi as restrained as she could while moving at such speeds. Better to deliver warning back to her group and the main army left behind.

As she descended, she considered what she had done in her moment of panic when it became clear that one of the barbarians had noticed her. It was not quite the same as her One with Shadow technique nor any other techniques that she knew. Even when she blinked from one place to another in combat, she didn’t quite disperse like that.

Even now, her dantian burned, and her head pounded from the strain, but it really was just an extension of what she had already learned. In dispersing her aura to blend into the background and hide herself, she was already taking the first step. Still, to do the same with her actual body…

<Are you thinking that bodies are more important than spirits? I’m hurt, Ling Qi,> Sixiang laughed, sounding flippant even though she could feel the spirit’s tension and watchful intent as they peered out at the world through her. <Well, I guess it is a big step for a meat-person.>

Ling Qi wrinkled her nose at the gross appellation, even if it wasn’t wrong.

<Obviously, someone who Momma taught would figure out something easy like that,> Hanyi said grumpily. <Big Sister should be more careful though.>

<Sister should stop picking fights where Zhengui can’t help,> her little brother sulked.

Ling Qi shifted uncomfortably even as she maintained her speed, flitting through the air back to the distant ground. <I probably would have been fine if it was just the first one or if he had just met a few first and second realms,> Ling Qi replied silently. <And I backed off, didn’t I?>

<I think it’s fine. That first guy had no idea you were there, so why not tail him?> Sixiang asked, but they seemed less tense as Ling Qi soared down below the clouds.

<I’m still worried,> Ling Qi admitted. <But I don’t think I could have gained anything worth the risk given my capabilities at this time.> Ling Qi knew that the Cloud Tribes could move incredibly quickly, many times faster than any similarly sized Imperial grouping. So escaping from them if she had been caught would have been very difficult. Maybe she could manage once she had begun cultivating the Wind Thief art, but as it was, she would have probably had to rely on using the final technique of Sable Crescent Step art again and again. Combined with the slow drain of flight, she could all too easily picture herself running out of qi, leaving her helpless and needing Liao Zhu to save her.

There was no good in second guessing herself, Ling Qi decided, listening to the chatter in her head. She believed that she had made the right choice. Liao Zhu was no doubt aware of what she had seen as well, so perhaps it was best to leave matters to him.

Moving at her full speed, Ling Qi left the impossibly high mountains far behind her in short order, descending to fly and then to run among the little peaks and valleys that were her primary assignment. Reaching her subordinates did not take long after that.

They had made good progress on their assignment by the time she had returned, being more than halfway through combing the region. Using her superior mobility, it did not take long to signal them all to regroup and meet her at the bend of a stream that lay ahead. With Sixiang keeping a wary eye on the sky, she settled in to wait for them to arrive.

It took only a few minutes for them to begin to arrive. The soldiers did not look like they had suffered much in her absence. Chun Yan was somewhat scuffed with a thin cut on her cheek and a few rips in her armor under the cloak. Chang He’s boots glistened with some kind of slime that smelled faintly of fish oil. Mo Lian was largely untouched, though mud spattered his boots and trousers. Overall, they were in good condition, showing only a minor depletion of their qi.

“I won’t take too much of our time to explain,” Ling Qi announced as they arrived in the clearing. “I spotted three barbarians in the third realm meeting in the high peaks to the south. It was close to the edge of our range, so I was not able to confirm more. As such, we need to maintain a higher level of awareness, and keep an eye out as we work our way south.”

Ling Qi was a little surprised at the reaction her words caused, or rather, the lack of it. She got three sharp nods and the usual verbal acknowledgement, but they seemed surprisingly unworried. She frowned, looking toward Chang He, the oldest of the three.

“I would like to hear your thoughts, as well as any advice you have on defensive measures,” she said politely, triggering some muttering from Hanyi in her thoughts.

Chang He raised his head, meeting her gaze with an even expression. “You have the gist covered, ma’am,” he replied. “We stay aware, but we don’t stop our mission. Likely as not, they’ll stick to their upper peaks, gathering and hunting. There are rare reagents up in the high peaks, and it is not as if we’re the only ones who want them. Even if not, we can’t outrun them. Earthworks and stealth are the best defense.”

“I have an art which may be used for swiftly creating fortifications, ma’am,” Mo Lian added. “Should a group who is beyond us arrive, we can swiftly dig in and wait for the main force.”

<Oh, I can help with that!> Zhengui chirped in excitedly.

“My spirit can help, if it comes to that,” Ling Qi relayed. “I want to inform the main force as well. I know our overseer has the communication equipment, but…”

“Master Liao has already sent off the message.” Ling Qi very deliberately did not jump at the smooth and cultured voice which spoke in her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of silver mist, gleaming like a mirror. “Your situation is known.”

A swift glance showed that her subordinates had not heard the voice nor noticed the mist. In her thoughts, Sixiang muttered something about a show off.

“It seems that that isn’t a problem,” she said after what she hoped was not a noticeable pause. She clapped her hands together. “So! Let’s not waste any further time, and we’ll resume the survey. Mo Lian, show me the map you’ve compiled already, and we will see what I can do to speed things along.”

All they could do now was complete their job and remain aware. Ling Qi held in a sigh. It was going to be a long and tense day. She hoped that her friends were having better ones.

Threads 49-Perspectives

Li Suyin allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction as she placed the last of the seeds into the jar of preservative and tapped the lip, activating the sealing formation on the container. Humming to herself, she collected the discarded rind of the fruit and brushed it into the bin beside her work table where they would be stored until they could be ground up and converted to feed for higher quality livestock back at the Sect proper.

With that, she was done for the moment. With little medical work to do, she, like the other crafting students in the supply train, had been set to processing reagents collected by the army’s foragers. It was simple, tedious work, but Li Suyin knew it had to be done, and she was happy to do it. Li Suyin glanced out of the back of the wagon at the passing landscape and took a moment to admire the misty valley that spread out below.

Idly, she drummed her fingers on the rough work table, the chitin claws that tipped the fingers of her new glove clicking lightly on the wood. It was strange. Here, working for the betterment of the Sect, she was more idle than she had been since her expedition with Ling Qi. She had been studying, dissecting, building, and crafting almost nonstop for weeks, pausing only to finally make her breakthrough into the third realm.

The time had been fruitful though. The supply bags Ling Qi had taken were full of interesting things, and her glove was one of those innovations. It had been crafted from spider silk and the chitin of that third realm beast which had nearly collapsed the ceiling and treated with certain substances taken from that bag. Between the absorbing and consumptive properties imbued into the silk, Li Suyin was rather proud of the custom-built venom injectors in the claws, which greatly improved the efficacy of the arts she had received from Zhenli’s broodmother.

“All finished then, Li Suyin?” asked a voice from behind her.

Li Suyin turned to look at her work partner, seated at the bench affixed to the opposite wall of the wagon. Du Feng was a tall boy, although shorter than her friend Ling Qi. With handsome aristocratic features and dark blue, almost black, hair worn in a top knot, he was not the sort to stand out among their more colorful peers. The elaborate cut of his dark blue robes did give him a certain refined air though, Li Suyin supposed.

“I am. You are as well then?” Li Suyin asked pleasantly.

“Yes,” Du Feng said, idly cracking his knuckles as he glanced out the back of the wagon as well. “Are you still comfortable in your gown?”

Li Suyin was glad that there was no one else here or she might have been embarrassed. However, the normally inappropriate question was only fair since the gown had been a joint project between her and Du Feng. She glanced down at the flowing silk of her new gown, pale lilac with highlights of darker pink and purple. The glimmering hints of silvery filaments were barely visible in the gown’s resting state. She pulsed her qi, and they twitched, sending a shimmering, hypnotic ripple through the silk.

“Very much so. The wire has not chafed at all. It is truly lovely, Du Feng. I cannot wait until I can use its full functionality.”

“A gown can only be as lovely as the girl wearing it,” he said lightly, looking at her over the narrow lenses of his spectacles. “And it could not have been half as well constructed without your help.”

Li Suyin felt her cheeks color and glanced away. She was aware that Du Feng perhaps fancied her, just a little. However, she was never entirely sure how to react in the face of that. She was hardly a beauty, and her disfigurement had not helped matters. She did not want him to make a mistake when he could do so much better than a petty, stubborn, and mediocre girl like her.

“You are too kind,” she replied evasively. “Really, it is only your work that allowed the whole project to come together.”

“I suppose we will just have to take equal credit then,” he laughed. She thought that he had a rather nice laugh. “What do you make of this expedition so far?” he asked.

“I am sure they have a reason to bring so many auxiliaries,” Li Suyin demurred. Even if it meant that they were left with little to do, having the workload split so many ways.

“Very much so. It would not do for artists such as us to have to risk ourselves. I am glad that the Sect is so cautious,” Du Feng said with a smile.

Li Suyin nodded, maintaining her smile. That… was the other rub. It was unfair of her, but she had grown up with tales of chivalrous warrior poets and brave and clever hero scholars. Though she had been disabused of the notion that the real world allowed for such pure images to exist, some part of her was still the little girl who had sighed over such stories and wanted a hero of her own. It was one reason why she had kept her latest project a secret. It was just too embarrassing…

Before the conversation could continue, Li Suyin heard a noise, and the wagon ground to a halt. “Disciple Li!” called the voice of their driver. “We have an injury ahead. Proceed to the front.”

She shot an apologetic smile to Du Feng. “It seems that duty still calls,” she said.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Do not let me hold you up. Stay safe, Li Suyin.”

***

The crackle of flames mingled with the popping sound of bursting insects was a delightful backdrop, Gu Xiulan decided, observing her work with satisfaction. Before her, the whole of the tainted grove with its twisted and bloated trees, unwholesome growths, and miasmas of sickness and vermin burned. Roaring flames consumed twisted bark, and trees crumbled, bleeding blood-like sap as the jets of flame pouring from her outstretched hands roared forth. Wispy blue with cores of bright white, the purifying flames consumed it all, muddy earth flash boiling and stagnant streams exploding into steam as she poured heat and destruction from her hands.

The disease spirits in the air, taking the form of vermin and sickly miasma, billowed out, threatening to engulf her, only to wilt and die at the sheer shimmering heat of her aura, and strong buffeting winds blew the rest back into the inferno.

She was not the only source of flame; several other disciples surrounded the grove, casting their flames as well. But even if her blood was diluted, she was a daughter of the Purifying Sun, and no other’s flames could cleanse such filth more efficiently.

A groaning tree, its bark licked by flames, uprooted itself, a subsonic groan emerging from its burning leaves and a facsimile of a face twisted in hatred forming on its trunk. As it began to bend its boughs toward her, stones erupted from the ground, impaling scrabbling roots, and heat blackened earth softened, dragging the tree back into the earth. Gu Xiulan smirked, sparing a smile for the grim faced Shen Hu, who stood beside her. The thing howled and thrashed as she let the lightning in her veins free. The pale scars on her face crackled, and a searing bolt of lightning cut through the smoke to strike the thrashing tree, followed by another and another.

Each strike brought a scream and a scattering of sparks as wood split and sap boiled. Above Gu Xiulan, Linhuo laughed, fluttering out on electric wings to circle the smoke. Linhuo’s newborn siblings, sparks birthed by the striking lightning, were called to her in a cloud of cruel fey laughter, and they spread the blaze further.

Most importantly, Gu Xiulan could feel the gazes of the sect soldiers on her back. It was good to be reminded that for all that she was often overshadowed, she was nonetheless a noble, whose power overawed her lessers. Were it not for her, these men and women would be forced to painstakingly cleanse this land with their much weaker techniques. They would fight a bitter battle every step of the way and be hurt and infected by the spirits of disease.

How fortunate for them, then, that she would bend her powers to such a task. Their awe and adulation allowed her to ignore the unending throb of pain from her burned arm for a while longer.

“Thank you for your efforts, Junior Sister. But that is enough.”

Gu Xiulan glanced to the side where her commanding officer stood. Diao Gen was a handsome man and a scion of the second most powerful family in the Emerald Seas.

“I am not exhausted yet, Senior Brother,” Gu Xiulan said, smiling warmly as the flames continued to pour from her hands.

“Of course not,” he chuckled, gazing appreciatively into the flames. “But it is time for phase two. If Junior Sister would join Disciple Shen, you may begin putting down the malevolent spirits in detail while I and the soldiers began reclaiming the soil.”

***

Shen Hu watched the burning grove with an unhappy frown. This was ugly work, and he didn’t much care for it. But the screams of diseased beasts, the popping and cracking of boiling sap weren’t unfamiliar to him. The Shen family wasn’t so fancy that they got to avoid ugly work. Let disease spirits fester, mess around with half measures and laziness, and then, they end up with a plague on their hands.

And these were no meek little spirits of rot sickness borne from meat left out to spoil. His grip on his elbows tightened, fingers growing white as he felt something unwholesome, swollen, and tumorous in the earth try to rip free as the flames scorched its moist hide. He saw a slick, sickly yellow tendril rip free, thrashing until it was consumed by white hot flame.

He listened with half an ear as their commander gave them new orders. He already knew where the first stop was.

“Understood,” he said aloud, acknowledging the order. Lanhua bubbled within his dantian, unhappy with the heat, but her mud began to puddle around his feet anyway, rising up to armor his limbs.

“Understood,” said the girl beside him sweetly, letting the jets of flame erupting from her palms sputter out.

Diao Gen gave them both a cheerful nod, striding off to give commands to the rest of their unit, while they stepped into the flames. The inferno parted around their feet, licking heatlessly at their legs as it closed behind them, leaving the soldiers to begin shrinking the perimeter.

“There was no need to call on your spirit,” Gu Xiulan teased. “I’d have not let the flames touch you regardless.”

“Why have one line of defense when you can have two?” Shen Hu said lazily. “First target is about three meters to the right past the big stone.”

Gu Xiulan sniffed haughtily, stepping daintily over the charred corpse of something four-legged and furry; he couldn’t say what it might have been before. “I suppose. Convenient, then, that I have you,” she said with a dazzling smile.

Shen Hu grunted with acknowledgement. He still didn’t know what to make of her. This wasn’t exactly the place for flirting, and Lanhua burbled an irritated agreement in his ears. It hadn’t taken him that long to figure out what she was doing. He just had no idea what to do about it.

She was probably just playing around to get a rise out of him. That’s what he chose to believe, anyway. He’d have no idea what to do otherwise. If he just acted oblivious, she’d eventually get tired of it and stalk off. “It’s here. Some kind of plague boil. I’ve got it trapped.”

Carefully, he parted the boiling mud between two crumbling trees, revealing the pooled sickness beneath the surface. The smell that billowed out was a mix of long spoiled meat and sickroom stench. Beside him, Gu Xiulan’s face twisted in disgust. “Ugh. Hold it a moment longer. I shall need a few seconds to charge something suitable.”

Shen Hu shied away at the sheer size of the orb of flame that bloomed between her hands, more layers of mud pouring out to shield him from the heat that threatened to ash everything within a good two meters.

Well, at least Gu Xiulan was distracted. Maybe ugly work wasn’t so bad after all.

***

They boiled from the earth like black flame. Eyes and mouths that were like crimson tears in black fabric let out echoing wails fit to freeze the soul as flickering hands reached for her throat, their spiritual being made material by the raw resentment and envy which the wraiths felt for those who still had the temerity to draw breath.

The first collapsed in twain, split in half by a whispering hiss of metal and a flash of white. The second and third burned, spectral flesh boiling away into oily smoke where her radiance fell.

Thwip. Hiss.

Thwip. Hiss.

Where Cifeng passed, the unquiet dead were cloven in twain, and when her stride brought them into her light, even the pieces were no more. It was necessary to take these foes in this inefficient manner. Should she unleash her primary skills, the ruin and the shrine it contained would be damaged, and that would only make the problem worse.

Their wails were unpleasant, scratching at her ears, trying to pull despair to the surface. Where her blade cut them, they tried to show her blood and flesh instead of smoke and dust.

But the dead were the dead. They were echoes and remnants, nothing more. These people had been slain long ago, laid low by arrow and trampling hooves, before her mother had even been born and before her grandfather had even begun to cultivate. It was a sad thing, but at least this blood was not on her hands. The tendrils of lingering malevolence crawling across her thoughts could not change that.

She raised her hand, preparing to signal her compatriots to follow. Diamond formation, the priest they were escorting at the center with herself at the front point—

<Prepare a diamond formation around the subject. Disciple Cai, advance ahead of the group and sweep the premises.>

Cai Renxiang did not allow herself a frown as she lowered her hand, instead moving into position, dispelling another three wraiths which rose to challenge her. Core Disciple Jia Song was a somewhat difficult commander. She did not resent being ordered ahead. These foes were no threat, but they already knew the layout.

If she were uncharitable, when placed alongside similar orders, she might come to the conclusion that the young lady was taking some petty pleasure in being able to command her. However, there was no call to assume such. More likely, there must have been some facet of the situation which she was blind to.

Liming’s cloth rippled, a low growl of leashed bloodlust echoing more loudly in her thoughts than any phantom wails. The reputation of her mother’s work made any truly untoward motive vanishingly unlikely.

Yes, something missed or a touch of petty pride and no more. In either case, she would perform her duty to specification.

Cai Renxiang strode into the cloud of malevolence which rose from the ruined fort, and it parted like the sea before the bow of a ship.

Threads 50-Downtime 1

Over the course of the next few days, things went peacefully enough as Ling Qi returned to the main force and joined the detachments dealing with the issues she had helped map out. Soon enough, they were on their way back to the Sect, and she had been commended for performing her duties well.

It irked her a little to just do ‘well,’ but standing out was hardly the point in an exercise like this. She would just have to be satisfied with that and her contribution points.

With the exercise over, Ling Qi found her mind turning back to cultivation, her tutoring of Xiao Fen, and her time with her family. While she knew she wanted to help her mother select a cultivation art from among those provided by Cai Renxiang, she was less sure of other things. Given everything that had happened recently, she wanted to spend time with her little sister as well, and she was pretty sure she wanted to spend time outside with Biyu. The land around the Sect was beautiful, and some of it was even mostly tamed. It would be good to let Biyu run around.

***

It was a little nostalgic, Ling Qi thought, sitting beside her mother in the house’s small study, learning to read. Though unlike before, the roles were reversed, and the surrounding more luxurious. “Do you feel an affinity for any of the exercises?”

Ling Qingge was silent, her aged features scrunched with effort as she painstakingly read through the contents of the jade stick on the table. The slab given to Ling Qi by the Cai was a wondrous thing, able to detach segments of varying size which contained some portion of the total library. The piece her mother held in her hands contained the entry level cultivation arts.

At last, Ling Qingge sighed and set the jade down, reaching up to knead her temples. “It is difficult to know. Some seem like little more than exercise manuals while others seem wholly detached from any material concern. I am not certain I am fit to judge.”

“It’s fine if we have to guess a little,” Ling Qi said with a small smile. “You’ve already taken the first step, Mother, and that means the rest is just a matter of time. Just go with your first impulse for now. If it doesn’t work out, we can try another.”

The older woman met her eyes and then nodded, seemingly buoyed by her confidence. Ling Qingge picked up the jade stick again, and her closed eyes fluttered as she began reviewing them again. It was something Ling Qi was happy to see. With her mother’s achievement in cultivation, some of the wear which recent years had piled upon her seemed to have fallen away. She was still a quiet and reticent woman, prone to melancholy, but Ling Qi felt like she could see something of the firm and decisive woman who had once corralled her wild self into sitting down and learning her letters and numbers, despite the physical and mental exhaustion of degrading work.

Still, Ling Qi was glad when her mother finally opened her eyes again. Sitting still for so long without cultivating left her feeling a bit jittery, if she was honest. “Blooming Earth Meditations,” her mother said slowly. “To me, it seems the most grounded of these… arts. I believe I could practice it.”

Ling Qi hummed, briefly reaching out to touch the jade stick and pull the information on the art into her thoughts. Blooming Earth Meditations cultivated wood and earth in the old style, a three step cultivation art which focused on slower paced contemplative exercises and breathing techniques. It encouraged its user to contemplate themes of growth and cycles. She could see why her mother might lean toward something like this. It was not something that she would cultivate given her own inclinations, but it was a good beginner art.

“I’ll make some time to help you get started tomorrow then,” Ling Qi said decisively. “Speaking of which, have you thought about what we talked about earlier?”

Ling Qingge’s expression grew slightly pinched. “I am still not certain I like the idea. While I do not doubt that you will assure Biyu’s safety in the moment, encouraging a child to play beyond the boundaries is…”

“I understand,” Ling Qi replied. “But Biyu has some talent for cultivation. I’m sure of it. I think it’s important to encourage her to want to enter the world of cultivation early on, especially if her talent is lesser. Advancing can be very discouraging otherwise.”

Her mother shot her a rueful look. “Using arguments for encouraging children toward academics now. How things have changed.”

Ling Qi grinned. “It’s not my fault that they’re good arguments. Besides,” she said more somberly, “I think it would be nice if Biyu could have a more solid starting point, instead of having to flail around and get lucky like her sister.”

Some luck would always be necessary, but sometimes, Ling Qi envied the smooth, untroubled advancement of people like Bai Meizhen or Cai Renxiang. Most would call her arrogant for aiming her sights so high, but Ling Qi doubted that anyone rose to the heights of cultivation without a little overreaching pride.

“Very well. I will trust you on this matter,” Ling Qingge said after some thought. “However, I expect you to be the one to give her a bath afterwards,” she added.

“My, what will the household think, having the lady of the house perform such a task,” Ling Qi replied with false pomp, resting her hand on her cheek. “Mother, you make the most untoward demands.”

They shared a look. Then,Ling Qi snorted inelegantly, and her mother looked away, hiding the hint of a smile with her hand. Things were getting better, Ling Qi thought. If that meant putting up with some sneering at parties, it was worth it.

When the next day came, Ling Qi rode with a laughing Biyu into the lightly wooded foothills, perched on Zhengui’s back. She made sure not to release him until they had gone beyond the fields and wards, but it created a mild spectacle all the same among the field laborers. She simply made sure to sit up straight and hold an imperious expression despite the excited child in her lap, who was still mystified and excited by the shimmering green glow protecting her from Zhengui’s natural heat.

Their destination was not too far away. In preparation for this excursion, Ling Qi had put some of her surveying skills to work and found what she was looking for in a spiritually rich little gully with a small stream that flowed through it. It was a beautiful place, rich and green with clear waters that gurgled and bubbled musically over the smooth river rocks.

However, it was more than that. The leaves bent and swayed under the weight and movement of glittering spirits of wind, little more than whorls of air in the vague shape of birds and insects. Glittering fairies like crystal sculptures danced atop the bubbling water. Among the flowers and grass, some plants moved and swayed of their own volition, and curious eyes peered down between the shadows of leaves

It was a place where the little spirits of the world were born and gathered, rich with free-flowing qi. A good cultivation site to be sure, but that was not what she was here for, and besides, it was in the Outer Sect. In her arms, Biyu peered around with wide eyes as fluttering spirits took flight at their passage, and a brilliantly colored flock of insect-like fairies spiralling up into the sky as they fled Ling Qi’s passage.

She knew that among the inhabitants of the gully were plenty of the sorts of spirits that whispered and tricked and cajoled mortals who could hear, drawing them out of safety, but Ling Qi was not a confused mortal any longer. There was nothing to fear here. Even restrained from human senses, her presence had weight and power, and she could feel the spirits brushing against the edge of her awareness.

Ling Qi smiled as she set her sister down and rested a hand on her head. In the realm of the immaterial, her spirit pulsed, and cold swept through the observing spirits. It touched lightly upon Biyu’s head, and the little girl giggled and grabbed at the snowflakes that crystallized in the air around her. To everyone else though, the meaning was unmistakable. “Mine,” her spirit said, and it was both declaration and threat, absolute in conviction, colored by the mastered lessons of the Thousand Ring Fortress art.

“Can we swim?” Biyu asked with wide eyes as Ling Qi led her down to the stream. Behind her, she could feel Hanyi’s gaze on her back from where the young spirit sat on Zhengui’s shell as her little brother laid down for a nap.

“If you want, little sister,” Ling Qi replied with a grin. “That goes for you too,” she called back, startling Hanyi. “We’re here to have some fun after all.”

Hanyi huffed and looked away, puffing out her cheeks. “I don’t need to play baby games.”

Ling Qi rolled her eyes at the spirit’s pique. “If you’d rather your Big Sister give you a dunking, just say so,” she said sweetly.

“You wouldn’t,” Hanyi said, narrowing her eyes.

“I would,” Ling Qi replied in a voice of steel.

“I’ll freeze the water,” Hanyi threatened.

“Not if I don’t let you,” Ling Qi challenged.

“I’ll help,” Sixiang laughed, their wicked grin audible in their voice.

“There’s no need to be stubborn,” Ling Qi added more gently. She knew Hanyi still had issues with her human family.

Biyu had wandered a bit while they argued, crouching at the shore to watch glasslike “fish” made wholly of water dart and vanish among the rocks and reeds. “Hanyi play too?” she asked innocently, looking up.

At that, Hanyi rolled her eyes and slipped down from Zhengui’s shell. “Fine. If Big Sister wants to play so much, I guess I can.”

<It’s gonna take more than that you know,> Sixiang said silently.

<I know,> Ling Qi thought. <But at some time, you just have to start moving forward.> With cultivation, with family, with her responsibilities. It wasn’t just in cultivation that she had to strive for improvement.

So without hesitation, she happily spent the morning playing in the stream with her little sister and Hanyi. They swam and ran and laughed, and keeping her more fragile sister shrouded in protective qi, she worked to include Hanyi in their play. When they stopped to rest and weave flowers, it was Hanyi who transformed the fleeting constructions into crowns of unmelting ice that glistened beautifully in the sun, their colorful petals preserved forever. When Ling Qi sat at the riverside and sang an idle and playful song she had made up on the spot, the two of them listened closely with grins on their faces.

So, even if she had not cultivated at all that morning, Ling Qi still felt good as they rode back toward the town on Zhengui’s back. She would work hard to make sure that Biyu associated cultivation with beauty and fun, so that her little sister could enter that world with a strong drive. Likewise, she had promised her Master, Zeqing, that she would take care of her daughter, and that meant making Hanyi a part of the family, one way or another.

It was a morning well spent.

***

Days flew by peacefully as Ling Qi divided her time between such pursuits and her own training, and despite the reduced time spent at it, she continued advancing quickly. She finally mastered the nuances of Thousand Ring Fortress, streamlining the last inefficiencies in the art.

When she contemplated the lessons taught by the art, she found herself remembering Elder Zhou’s advice to her so long ago during his test. “Retreat is not always cowardice but can become it if relied on overmuch. Think hard on what stands to be lost before choosing to cede ground.” That advice had stood her in good stead over the course of her time in the Outer Sect where she had stood her ground versus Huang Da, Kang Zihao’s minions, and in the intra-Council fight and more. And it could again, preventing the cowardice that had seized her when she had faced the Hunting King in that Bloody Moon Dream, if she truly internalized that lesson.

There had to be more in life than base survival, and so there had to be some things that she could and should put her life on the line for. At the same time, she couldn’t be inflexible and unyielding all the time. But as Thousand Ring Fortress taught her, a tree’s branches and even trunks could bend and sway, but the roots must be unyielding. She knew that to follow her Path, she could retreat only so far and then no more.

She also completed the Curious Diviner’s Eye art as well, mastering the final technique, which allowed her to peer at distant people and locations in pools of water. Unlike Thousand Ring Fortress though, the lessons she learned from it did not resonate with her. While she knew the importance of lessening her ignorance or remaining watchful, it didn’t seem so fundamental a lesson to her that she wanted to enshrine it in her domain. A useful lesson - but not a core lesson.

With her arts mastered, Ling Qi turned to putting into practice Sect Elder Hua Heng’s lessons. In preparation for more advanced arts, she began to refine the flows of her current arts, reducing the number of channels which she needed to attune to use them.

Her spiritual cultivation shot up as well, and Ling Qi felt herself breaking through to the Green Foundation stage. For the first time, she could see herself reaching parity of cultivation with her liege and Meizhen, at least for a time, for the climb to the next level was a long one, and both had achieved their Foundation stages only a short time ago.

Even feeling some dissatisfaction for her performance in the mountains, Ling Qi could only think that things were looking up.

Bonus: The Sky that Fell

Great Father is the First Sky, whose arrows are the lightning, whose hoofbeats are the wind, and whose mane is the clear blue sky.

The Second Sky is the Starson, who led the greatest hunt of all. It was he who hunted the Gods and fashioned their bones into his armaments. It was he who gave the Mountains to the People to hunt forevermore.

The Third Sky is the first whose name is not sealed. Mighty Balamber, Lord of Summer, who faced the bloodtide in the west, stirred to madness by the lowlander kings. It was he who met the Red Jungle in war and enforced the Compact of the Crimson Noon.

The Fourth Sky is Wise Metok, Lord of the Spring, whose fury is the flood and whose compassion is the rain. It was he whose wisdom wrought the seasons and bound the Crone to return to her lands of Always Winter each year.

The Fifth Sky is Stolid Sarangerel, Lady of the Night, who brings health to babes and who guides the cunning hunter’s eye. It was she who carved the first mask and she who whispered the secret names of the traitor stars unto the Moon.

The Sixth Sky is Wroth Batu, Lord of War, who led the first host of the People to war and who beat back the Children of Trees. Glory to him, who shattered the Stag Lord’s horns! Glory to him, who kept the People free.

The Seventh Sky… never came.

For many centuries, the people had yearned for the rise of a new Sky to finish the work of Batu. Onward had come the lowlanders, digging like worms into the flesh of the mountains to carve out their hearts. The warriors of the People fought, and yet ever onward, they crept, innumerable as the great locust tide. One year at a time, one valley at a time, the People lost.

He came then, a humble boy of a defeated tribe, taken into the household of his father's sister. Yet bold was the child Ogodei, and the path of a mere hunter would not satisfy the thirst for glory in his heart. A warrior born, he swiftly dominated the games of boys and earned his wings. There, he earned the favor of childless Mondor, Khan of the Thunder Bearers tribe, and rose swiftly in the esteem of the warriors.

Many trials awaited him. Warriors dissatisfied with the Khan’s favor gave to him deadly tasks, and each one, he conquered. Twice did he fend off ambushes from collaborators of other tribes, seeking his life.

But the first true sign of glory came at his day of bonding. There did Ogodei refuse to accept a Beast-Self of the tribe’s bloodline, even a foal of Khan Mondor’s line. He claimed the Rite of Founding and set forth to establish his claim.

None can say what adventures and journeys the young Khan had in the highest mountain peaks where Father's storms rage eternal. Yet after ten years, long after he was assumed dead, did Ogodei descend, aback a mighty Dragon Horse whose scales glittered as ice and whose horn was Father’s lightning made manifest. Young warriors flocked to Ogodei, and young women fought for the right to challenge for his hand.

Once again did the young Khan earn consternation when he chose Sarnai of the Thunder Bearers as his bride, daughter of a simple hunter, a girl he had known in his youth. Alas, when the young Khan left upon his marital quest, tragedy struck. Lowlanders under the name of Li came to the Thunder Bearers’ grazing peak, seeking the wealth in its heart. There was slain the Khan Mondor, his warriors, and gentle Sarnai alike.

Wroth was Ogodei, upon his return, and the remains of the Thunder Bearers joined him without thought. Then and there, many believed the youth would fall upon the Li and be slain in turn, as often happened in the wake of such events. Yet it was not so, for in Ogodei, it seemed the Wisdom of Metok was strong. So it was that for two hundred years did the young Khan harden himself against vengeance and work to grow. He hunted mighty beasts and warred with mighty Khans.

He was magnanimous in victory, taking only the proper amount and sparing warriors where he could. And all the while did the Khan whisper words of vengeance and unity in the ears of the tribes. He was not the only man or woman in the mountains to have been brought such loss, and his words resonated with the People. When the Grand Kurultai came, he proved himself strong in the favor of the First and Second, and like storm clouds gathering, the allies of Ogodei grew.

He grew strong, stronger than all but the mightiest of Khans, and soon, as strong as they as well. The Seventh Sky had come, the warriors whispered, and the time to strike back was nigh. Batu had Broken the Forest Lord’s horns, but Ogodei, Lord of Lightning, would burn their forests to the ground and drive them from the hills forevermore.

Yet still, the greatest Khans resisted, for they as well had achieved the realm of Ogodei, though each of the three was old and gray and bore no illusions of rising to become a Sky. And so, did Ogodei undergo one last trial.

The foul kin of the old Gods had crept back into the mountains, carried by the lowlander scum. There, did one of the scaled worms of the sky dare call itself king.

And like the Starson before him, did Ogodei cast the beast down and fashion armor of its hide.

For the first time since the days of the Gods did more than half of the People gather under one banner.

With offerings of dragon’s blood did Ogodei open the vaults of the Starson and receive a cache of his arrows. When the first one flew, it heralded the end of days for the accursed Li and their Black Lotus Mountain. There, the people purged the Li’s toxins from the land and burned their abominable crafts to the ground.

Yet there was no call from the lowlander kings. Where the tribes fought together, the lowlanders fought alone, and they died alone. Their slow soldiers and decadent lords failed to match the cunning of the great Khan, and for a time, it seemed as if victory was nigh!

A lie. A beautiful lie. None know how Ogodei fell, but fall, he did.

And the lowlanders stirred with rage.

Such is the tale of the Sky that Fell. And that Sky’s falling was but a prelude to the end of the People.

Unless, perhaps, a true Seventh Sky comes.

- Tale told to children of the Behemoth Eaters tribe by a shaman

Threads 51-Downtime 2

Ling Qi peered into the distance at the smoking crater in the ground, the glassy glimmer of melted dirt and shattered stone surrounding it. Then she shook her head. “Sorry, little brother. You still missed.”

“Ugh, stupid Zhen,” Gui grumbled. The giant tortoise lowered his head and swallowed another massive mouthful of dirt, stones, and plant matter from the miniature mountain of “ammunition” they had prepared.

“Silence, foolish Gui!” Zhen hissed as the air around him rippled with heat. “I, Zhen, merely need a little more practice!”

Ling Qi watched with a critical eye, flickers of silver marking the use of her perception techniques as she examined the processes of the technique Zhengui was trying to develop. He was not very good at taking in earth qi, so for now, they were using this crude method, but once he had mastered the more mundane aspects, they would have to work on the internal ones. Perhaps she could ask Xuan Shi? He had much more experience with earth arts.

“You ready with the target, Sixiang?” she asked, resting her hand on Gui’s scaly head as he swallowed the “fuel.” Molten glass dripped from the corners of Gui’s mouth. It was cute.

“Got ya covered, boss,” Sixiang said, and in the distance, Ling Qi saw the clay target, a simple, unadorned disc, spinning and floating in midair. The wind coiled around the disc, preparing to fling it into the distance. Sixiang was getting better at manipulating the wind, but so far they had not come up with something that could be called a technique.

“Alright. Fire when ready,” Ling Qi said with a grin.

Zhen’s throat bulged as the missile formed and traveled up toward his mouth, gathering fiery qi along the way, and the disc was flung away. A moment later, he rose to his full height and spat, and a burning mass of molten earth and ash erupted. The missile was roughly a meter across in size and arced high through the air trailing ash and rippling heat. It arced down a hundred meters distant, and the qi contained within churned. In a flash of fiery light and molten shrapnel, it exploded.

“Give the boy a prize!” Sixiang announced cheerfully, and Ling Qi grinned as well. The disc was gone, blasted into burnt fragments.

“Ha! It is done!” Zhen crowed.

“Hmph. Zhen should not be so proud. Sixiang is taking it easy.” Gui taunted, even as he eyed the pile of dirt and stones with distaste.

“It’s a good first step,” Ling Qi soothed as Zhen turned outraged eyes on his other half. “We’ll work on consistency, and then, we can move onto harder targets.”

However, before they could continue with their practice, Ling Qi found her attention drawn away. She turned to look to her right as she felt Hanyi’s qi approaching. Even from here, she could feel the spirit’s anger and embarrassment, long before she spotted her trudging up the hill where Zhengui practiced his techniques.

Hanyi was soaked to the bone. Her dress hung heavy from her shoulders, stiff and covered in frost and ice. Icicles dangled from the hems, clinking musically as she walked, and her hair was muddy and full of water weeds.

Ling Qi was at her side in the blink of an eye, crossing the intervening distance as little more than a blur. “Hanyi, what happened?” Ling Qi asked, crouching down to look at her. Ling Qi could see the fading remains of bruises and scrapes on the young spirit’s arms and legs.

“I was just playing, and this stupid jerk knocked me off the side of the waterfall! And then this spirit got mad ‘cause I froze his dumb pond,” Hanyi sniffled out. “Then I had to walk all the way out here ‘cause I can’t get into the cave without you.”

Ling Qi grimaced. “Sorry about that,” she apologized. The locks on the disciples’ homes were not something she could modify. “But who knocked you off a cliff, and why?”

“I dunno,” Hanyi pouted. “I was just playing and singing by the stream, and they got mad at me for making noise and kicked me off the cliffside.”

Ling Qi frowned. She sensed something a little evasive in Hanyi’s tone.

“What?! Big Sister, we need to go beat them up!” Zhengui announced, apparently having caught the story as he trundled over. “We can’t just let people mess with family.”

“Doofus,” Hanyi muttered under her breath, looking away briefly. She quickly brightened up though, looking pleadingly up at Ling Qi. “Yeah, you should beat them up, Big Sister!”

<Methinks we’re missing some context here,> Sixiang whispered dryly in her thoughts.

“I still need to know who it was,” Ling Qi pointed out.

“Well…” Hanyi began sheepishly.

***

Ling Qi did not know what she had expected, but it was not this.

Standing before the perpetrator, she looked into Yu Nuan’s eyes and saw stubborn determination mixed with fear. The girl looked much the same as she had when Ling Qi had challenged her last. She had a new set of piercings in her right ear, and some of the others had been changed for studs of other colors, but that was the extent of her physical changes.

“What is this I hear about you knocking my spirit off this cliff?” LIng Qi asked coolly, gesturing to her right where the clear waters tumbled over the cliffside, churning up the pond below. Chunks of slow melting ice still floated on its weedy surface. Hanyi peered out from behind her, and Ling Qi did not miss the way she pulled a face and stuck out her tongue at the other disciple.

“I lost my temper,” Yu Nuan replied defensively. “But that little… Your spirit has been bugging me all month, interrupting my practice and trying to challenge me, and when she scared off the spirit I was trying to bind...”

Left unsaid was what Ling Qi read between the lines. Yu Nuan had assumed Ling Qi was trying to mess with her and was now preparing herself for the consequences of rising to the bait. Ling Qi eyed Hanyi, who huffed.

“Like that’s a good excuse for attacking me like a big jerk. You knocked me off a cliff!”

Yu Nuan’s pierced eyebrow twitched violently. “We’re all third realms here,” she growled. “Don’t pretend you’re made of glass.” She crossed her arms and looked defiantly at Ling Qi. “I’m not gonna apologize.”

“Hanyi, why have you been following Disciple Yu around and challenging her?” Ling Qi asked suspiciously.

The young spirit looked briefly furtive, but a hard look from Ling Qi made her darting eyes still. “I wanted to beat her. Everyone says Big Sister crushed her so easily, so I thought I should be able to win too.” She scuffed her foot in the dirt. “I kept losing.”

There was another violent twitch of an eyebrow from Yu Nuan. Ling Qi felt bad for the other girl. Hanyi had caused the two of them trouble. If, or rather, when, it got around that Ling Qi had allowed one of her spirits to get attacked by a lower ranked disciple, it would give her detractors even more ammunition if she didn’t do anything about it. Ling Qi rubbed her forehead in frustration before she caught herself.

Straightening up, she looked the other girl in the eyes and measured her wary stance. “I will need an apology,” she stated baldly, causing the other girl’s shoulders to stiffen. “However, Hanyi, you need to stop-”

“No!” Hanyi interrupted stubbornly, stamping her foot. “I’m gonna beat her! She’s a cheater, and she made fun of Momma’s song.”

“I said you’re bad at it, you little snot,” Yu Nuan shot back. “If you’re just copying someone else, of course you’d be bad.”

Hanyi puffed her cheeks out angrily, and Ling Qi restrained a grimace.

<You can just make her stop,> Sixiang pointed out.

<I could,> Ling Qi thought. <But it’s my fault for not paying attention to what Hanyi was doing in the first place. I’m supposed to be her ‘guardian.’> It was a weird and unwelcome thought, but not one Ling Qi could avoid having.

“Yu Nuan, I will repeat: I will need an apology, but I am willing to compensate you for lost time and trouble.” She held up a hand to quiet Hanyi and to her, she said, “If you want to challenge someone, ask me first, and I’ll help you arrange it.”

“Then I wanna challenge her now. She’s a cheater!” Hanyi said, pointing at Yu Nuan.

“And why should I accept?” the other disciple replied, crossing her arms. “I’ve already lost enough time on this.”

Ling Qi thought and then offered, “If you win, I’ll add on helping you wrangle a spirit since you’re having some trouble on that front.”

The other girl stared her down, only briefly looking at Hanyi, which seemed to infuriate the young spirit even more. “I’m guessing this deal is only good if it comes with that apology, huh?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ling Qi replied bluntly.

“Fine,” Yu Nuan said. “You got a deal. What’s the time frame?”

Ling Qi sighed. The annoying political bits had been smoothed over, but as she watched Hanyi out of the corner of her eye, she knew that there were other things she had been neglecting. She would have her chance since she would certainly be helping Hanyi with her composition.

***

“Do you understand why I’m angry?” Ling Qi asked.

“No, I don’t see what the big deal is,” Hanyi complained.

Ling Qi rubbed her forehead in frustration. She sat on her bed, looking down at Hanyi, who knelt on the floor, looking recalcitrant. This wasn’t a conversation that Ling Qi wanted to be overheard. “Hanyi, you can’t just go around bothering people whenever you want. You could get me in a lot of trouble, you know?”

“That’s why I challenged someone you already beat,” Hanyi argued. “She doesn’t have any strong friends either. Big Sis is way too nice. You didn’t have to give her anything.”

Ling Qi grimaced. Even with the windfall she had gained from the sale of the mirror she had found in the Weilu tomb, giving up a green stone to Yu Nuan had been almost physically painful. It had, however, finally seemed to convince the other girl that this wasn’t some elaborate bullying plot. With her cooperation, Ling Qi could just pass the whole thing off as some friendly competition when the story hit the rumor mills.

“That’s not a good reason, Hanyi. When someone tells you they don’t want to play, you have to stop,” Ling Qi explained sternly. For a moment, she struggled to articulate her thoughts into words, to put this in a way that Hanyi would understand. A whisper of inspiration from Sixiang helped her organize her thoughts.

“That is not the sort of image Lady Cai wants us to project, and I also do not want to be that kind of person,” Ling Qi chided. “It’s not just a matter of strength. Reputation is important too. I trusted you to handle yourself well. That’s why I let you go where you wanted to go. Now I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I still don’t get it,” she sulked. “I was just playing. You didn’t have any problem bullying those dumb stream spirits so your real little sister could play.”

“That’s -” Ling Qi began to retort, only to shut her mouth with a click before she could finish the sentence. It was different. Those were just simple first realm spirits, no more intelligent than an animal, and Biyu was helpless. It wasn’t the same, but would Hanyi see it that way? The young spirit had a very stark and simple worldview.

“Dealing with pe-humans is different,” Ling Qi finally said. “I know you might not understand well, but the ways we deal with each other are more complicated. It’s easy to mess up. It wasn’t a big deal this time, but in the future, you could really end up hurting me. Please just ask me before you do something to a human, okay? I promise I’ll listen and try to explain what you should do. And if someone really hurts you or bullies you, I’ll do everything I can to crush them.”

Spirits above, she wished that she could pass the responsibility to Meizhen or Cai Renxiang, or even Xiulan. Someone who actually knew what they were doing.

“Fine,” Hanyi said after a moment. “M’sorry I got you in trouble,” she added in a mumble.

Somehow, seeing Hanyi finally looking crestfallen and apologetic wasn’t satisfying. Ling Qi slid off of her bed to kneel in front of Hanyi, her gown pooling around her knees as she tentatively rested her hands on Hanyi’s shoulders. “Why Yu Nuan?” she asked softly. “I still don’t really understand. Why have you been doing this?”

Hanyi mumbled something unintelligible, staring at the floor. Ling Qi gently squeezed her shoulders, and the young spirit spoke up. “I want to be strong. If it was someone you beat, I… I thought I could win. Even if I wasn’t as good as you, I would still be keeping up. But I couldn’t. I lost, and I shamed Momma’s songs. I told Momma I would be strong and pretty and smart like her, and I’m just NOT!” Her voice rose until she was practically shouting by the end.

“Hanyi-” Ling Qi began, but she was swiftly interrupted.

“I’m slow, and I’m heavy, and I’m still weak! That girl was right. I can’t sing right, and I can’t move right, and… I’m nothing like Momma, and I should have just stayed with her so she could still…”

Ling Qi pulled Hanyi into a hug, cutting off her increasingly hysterical words. “Hanyi, Zeqing wanted you to live. Everything else comes second to that,” Ling Qi said with complete conviction as the little girl in her arms trembled.

“It’s not enough,” Hanyi cried, her voice muffled by Ling Qi’s gown. “Momma’s gone. I have to- I need to be like her or…”

“Or nothing,” Ling Qi finished firmly. “You are Hanyi. You aren’t your mother. But one of the reasons she did what she did was so that you could go out and be yourself, and not just Zeqing’s daughter. You don’t have to be just like her to make her proud.”

She loosened her grip on Hanyi, allowing some distance to come between them again. Hanyi’s eyes were reddened by tears. “I can’t compare to Momma though,” she said. “If I’m not trying to be like her, then who should I be like?”

“I’m not saying you can’t be like Zeqing, but you need to focus on your strengths, and build yourself up,” Ling Qi replied gently. “You’re an energetic and forthright girl. Maybe you should accept that and -”

“I dunno,” Sixiang said brightly, timing their interruption perfectly. “Do you really think she can turn being a stubborn brat into something productive?”

Hanyi scowled at the empty air. “Who asked you! If Big Sister thinks I can, then I can. Don’t interrupt Ling Qi!”

Ling Qi sent Sixiang a silent thanks as she stood and offered a hand to Hanyi. “Anyway, since the serious talk is done, there’s no reason to hang around in this dull little cave. Will you take a walk with me, Hanyi? We can talk about ideas for your composition.”

Hanyi took her hand and rose to her feet. The young spirit’s smile was still a little brittle. “Yes! With Big Sister’s help, I’ll definitely make something good.”

Ling Qi was careful not to let her relief show on her face. That had been a terribly difficult conversation. She led Hanyi toward the door. Some nice music chat would be a nice break.

“Big Sister?” Hanyi drew her attention as they approached the door. For once, her tone and posture were almost shy. “Um… You said I should focus on my strength, but what do you think that is?”

Ling Qi thought about it. “I think it’s your curiosity and desire to explore,” she said gently. “I remember the first time we met, it was because you snuck out.”

Ultimately, she thought that kind of impulse in Hanyi was probably a sign that the break from Zeqing was inevitable, even if she had accelerated it.

“Exploring, huh?” Hanyi asked, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. “Yeah… Yeah! I can definitely make a song about that!”

“That’s the spirit,” Ling Qi chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Let’s start working on some compositions then.”

Threads 52-Downtime 3

Ling Qi took one last look around the small music hall, eyeing the handful of other disciples occupying the seats within. Despite her best efforts, word of the matter had gotten out. Not many had bothered to show up, and most were no doubt here out of idle curiosity, but she recognized a few disciples in the orbit of more important Emerald Seas nobles. She smiled thinly as she caught the eyes of one such young man, doing her best to channel Meizhen’s imperious attitude. He looked away first.

What was done was done. There was no use worrying about it now, and she would not spend Hanyi’s performance getting worked up about the rumor mill.

Ling Qi took one last look down at the stage where Hanyi faced a seated Yu Nuan with her hands on her hips and a defiant look on her face. She leaned back, letting her eyes drift shut as Hanyi’s voice rose in song.

A chill wind descended from the mountain. Swift and eager, newly born from the storm, the wind played upon the valleys and foothills. There was so much to see, so much to do. All the land sparkled with snow and ice, a vast and wondrous playground. The winter wind laughed as it rattled window panes and sent bare branches waving to scratch at the eaves and make spooky sounds.

But winter was not forever, and when the warm winds came, the chill would retreat back to the mountain peaks where winter held eternal court. Below, the land changed. Its sparkling blanket faded away, and it became strange - green, warm, vibrant, and alien. In her heart, the chill wind wondered what it would be like to wander green fields.

Thoughtless and eager, when the warm winds came the next year, the chill wind lingered and did not heed the call to come home. She blew through the green fields, and in her wake, there was frost, and the green grass withered. The people cursed her, and the warm winds drove her out. The chill wind fled and sought the comfort of the peaks, but she had wandered far, and her home was nowhere to be found.

Lost, the chill wind defied the warmer winds that chased her. She blew with all her strength and scattered her foes. For a time, the little wind grew aimless and lost, and her heels were always dogged by the warm winds of spring. However, the little wind was strong. If she could not return home, then she would not be driven away. She had given up home, and that sacrifice would not be in vain. She sought the flowing rivers and the green fields that she had longed for. She sought the birds and the beasts who had always hidden away when winter’s cloak had fallen upon the world.

Though she was oft spurned, the little wind blew on regardless into hidden lairs and warm halls. She was here, and she would not go, no matter how much the warm winds buffeted her for her defiance, no matter what curses were cast her way or how harshly the sun glared.

The cold wind had come, and it was here to stay.

Ling Qi hummed to herself as the vision began to fade. Although she had helped Hanyi practice, her inexperience still showed. Ling Qi had felt the full force of the message, being so familiar with Hanyi, but she could tell that others in the audience had found the expression muddled at points. The central theme had been conveyed, but the details were blurred. She was still proud of her junior sister.

Yu Nuan gave her a faint nod as their eyes met before she turned her eyes back to Hanyi. Ling QI was glad to see that thoughtfulness had replaced the suspicion that she had seen in the girl last time. “I can tell you put a lot of passion into that,” Yu Nuan said idly as the last notes faded.

“Obviously. Are you still gonna say I’m bad?” Hanyi asked with a harrumph.

“Nah, but you still have a long way to go,” Yu Nuan replied with a lopsided smirk.

“Quit stalling then if you think you’re so good,” Hanyi said, crossing her arms.

“I won’t insult you by playing around. Let me show you what defiance really sounds like.”

Ling Qi felt the change in the room’s atmosphere as Yu Nuan plucked a hard note on her lute. Sparks lept from her fingers, and the torches lighting the hall flared. The temperature soared, and as Ling Qi opened her mind’s eye to the song, Yu Nuan burned.

In the ashes of broken dreams, the lightning struck. From it was born an ember, nurtured on ruin and ash. The ember burned bright and hot, dreaming of the day when it would rejoin its father in the heavens. When the rains sought to drown it, the ember burned on, hissing and spitting defiance all the way. When the cold sought to sap its energy, it burned low and endured. When the ground sought to bury it, the ember burned deep within the earth, seeking the sky. But eventually, the day came when wicked creatures bound the ember, using it for warmth and craft.

Alone, the ember burned on, sometimes weak and sometimes strong, but never extinguished. Always, it strained toward the sky, toward the heavens. Through bondage, through crushing, through drowning and more, the ember burned on. Its captors shepherded it, and in their arrogance fed it fuel to birth new embers. In time, all the land was aglow with the light of the ember and its many, many children.

At last, the captors grew slothful and incautious. The embers roared their freedom, and the captors burned. All the land was consumed in conflagration, and no force could extinguish them. Finally, the flames reached the heavens and became the lightning, and the world was right once more.

Ling Qi blinked as the last notes faded. That had been rather different from Yu Nuan’s last composition. She listened with half an ear to the other disciples under the sounds of scattered applause. It seemed that the consensus was that Yu Nuan’s song was about the triumph of men over beasts and dragons and the rise of civilization and the Empire. Ling Qi wasn’t so sure.

<Not bad. Gotta give the stodgy types an acceptable message to keep ‘em happy, I guess,> Sixiang snickered.

Ling Qi leaped down to the stage and landed lightly beside Hanyi, who was pouting at Yu Nuan as the other girl stood up, her lute still producing streamers of smoke. “What do you think, Hanyi?” Ling Qi asked.

“... I lost,” Hanyi admitted. “I’m sorry, Big Sister.”

“You did really well. Do not apologize,” Ling Qi said, ruffling Hanyi’s hair.

“It was a good try for a runt,” Sixiang teased.

“Listen to her. She’s right,” Yu Nuan grumbled. “Damn natural talents,” she added under her breath. Ling Qi shot her a look. Yu Nuan met it without contrition. “You’re not half assing someone else’s work. That’s the biggest step.”

“Tch. I’ll be better than you in no time,” Hanyi boasted arrogantly. “Just you watch.”

Yu Nuan rolled her eyes in exasperation, and Ling Qi chose not to comment. “In any case, thank you for helping my spirit with this challenge, Miss Yu. I will help with your own issue when time allows,” Ling Qi said formally.

Yu Nuan glanced toward the seats where a few watchers lingered. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said neutrally. “I need to be going though. I’ll see you sometime soon then… Miss Ling.” The formality sounded a little awkward on her lips, and Yu Nuan seemed aware of it given the brief bow and somewhat hurried exit that followed.

Ling Qi rested a hand on Hanyi’s shoulder as they made for the opposite exit at a more sedate pace. “Are you satisfied, Hanyi?”

“No, I lost,” Hanyi said grumpily, looking up at Ling Qi as if she thought her dim for asking. “But I did promise Momma. I gotta grow up, and I can’t do that if I just run to Big Sister for help.”

“You’ll get better quickly if you try. You’re just lacking in experience,” Ling Qi said, relieved that this trouble had been smoothed over quickly.

“Yup! That’s why I’m gonna run all over the Sect!” Hanyi chirped. “There’s so many spirits here. I need to pester ‘em all!”

Ling Qi’s eyes widened in alarm, and she looked down to see Hanyi sticking out her tongue before the young spirit dissolved into a swirl of cold wind and snowflakes, vanishing from the entry of the music hall.

<You really shoulda seen this coming,> Sixiang commented in amusement.

Ling Qi held in a groan as she blurred into shadow to chase down Hanyi.

***

Ling Qi blurred to the side, and a hand shrouded in ash grey fire speared through the blurred afterimage where her eye had been. The gleaming saber in her right hand swept up to deflect the other girl’s second hand away from her throat, and Ling Qi smoothly transitioned into a thrust, and her opponent glided back, riding her own shadow.

Xiao Fen eyed her warily over her hands, returning to the tight defensive guard of her initial stance as curling streamers of grey fire rose from her hands. Ling Qi smiled faintly, returning back to her own open starting stance, her saber held out to one side at middle height.

Six months into the year, she had finally found something useful to do with her blade training. Now that she was in the Inner Sect and expected to represent Cai Renxiang to others, Ling Qi thought she should pick up some skill in one of the four noble weapons, and with Cai as her liege, the choice of which noble weapon was obvious. To that end, Cai Renxiang had begun to walk her through the basics of learning the blade. Her skill with the blade was purely ceremonial, but with a realm and four stages of advantage over Xiao Fen, using a saber served as a good handicap for their tutoring sessions.

Ling Qi couldn’t directly teach the girl since they used different arts and had different styles, but through some trial and error, they had found that Xiao Fen was able to gain some insights into her Sidewinder’s Step art by observing Ling Qi’s movements in combat.

“Ready for another round?” Ling Qi asked.

“I do not tire yet,” Xiao Fen replied evenly. She seemed much more relaxed when fighting.

<Ironic,> Sixiang said silently, <considering how vicious she is.>

Bai Xiaofen lunged, carried by a shimmering stream of shadow. Bai movement arts, Ling Qi had learned, seemed to treat having legs as a handicap to be overcome. Xiao Fen’s offense was fast and unrelenting. She struck with knees, elbows, fists, and feet without discrimination, getting in close and staying close. Even her defensive moves were geared to flow directly into more offense. Her every strike was aimed at some sensitive portion of the body, and her spearhand strikes were made to stab and tear like a beast’s claws.

Of course, while Xiao Fen undoubtedly exceeded her in melee skill, Ling Qi remained far faster than her. Last month, Ling Qi had refined her ability to move without movement and mastered the Stable Crescent Step art. Now, no longer did she need to expend energy flickering from one position to the next and instead wove through Xiao Fen’s merciless assault with minimal movements, leaving a trail of shadowy echoes in her wake that obscured her true movements. With her cultivation advantage, she flowed through the smooth and sweeping motions of the movements her liege had taught her, transforming the momentum of her twirling dodges into powerful blows.

Weathering a series of rapid jabs and blocking a sneaky upward knee, Ling Qi pulsed her qi, driving back the consuming gray flames that tried to catch on her blocking hand. Xiao Fen’s fire arts were very different from Xiulan’s flashy maneuvers. They were low burning and clung tenaciously to anything they touched. All fire devoured, but the fires Xiao Fen made were hungry and consumptive in a way that exceeded that. Ling Qi could already see the way the girl’s arts would evolve from striking at physical frailty to spiritual. She could see the way Xiaofen’s fires would eventually be thrust into an enemy’s channels the way her fingers would drive into the softer parts of an enemy’s flesh.

“What is the news on the Outer mountain?” Ling Qi asked, catching a foot aimed for her jaw and shoving the other girl back with the raw strength of her cultivation. They had already been sparring for a while, so it was time to begin moving on to other business.

Xiao Fen narrowed her eyes as she fell back into a low guard, her shoulders bobbing back and forth like a serpent looking for an opening to bite. “Gan Guangli is maintaining his grip. He has reached the appraisal stage.” Xiao Fen struck without missing a beat, coming in low, her charge zigging and zagging, but Ling Qi saw through the initial feint and brought her free hand up to deflect the leaping elbow strike aimed at her temple. She retaliated with a spinning slash that struck Xiao Fen across the chest, sending out a ripple of qi.

“You’re getting frustrated. Tone down the recklessness,” Ling Qi critiqued.

Xiao Fen let out a very unladylike grunt of acknowledgement as she landed and rose sinuously back into her starting stance. “His position is poor. His enemies are disunited however, and he makes those who attack him directly hurt. He uses my aid liberally in that area. I would be offended by his presumption, but there is a great deal of trash in this Sect that has forgotten its respect. The other factions fear to strike and weaken their position against the others. It is all very barbaric.”

<Pot, meet kettle,> Sixiang muttered.

“The honored duchess has her reasons,” Ling Qi noted blandly. She was quite sure the Argent Peak Sect would be glad to be rid of the Cai’s direct intervention. They were probably going to spend years sorting this all out properly. “Stand down. We’re done for today,” she said, lowering her blade. “What other news?”

Her “student” looked briefly rebellious before relaxing her stance. “Gan Guangli has found a spirit. Its exact nature is hidden, but it seems the immaterial type. I suspect the details will be in the missive for your liege. As to the rest… The spirit kin you showed an interest in broke through. A number of Lu Feng’s subordinates sought to break into her workshop and found themselves facing an irate partial third realm. That one has a satisfactory attitude toward enemies,” Xiao Fen said with a touch of approval.

“What did she do?” Ling Qi asked in morbid interest, letting her saber vanish back into her ring.

“I do not know the details, but they had to be dug out of the mountainside by their compatriots and spent a week in the Medicine Hall,” Xiao Fen replied with a shrug. “Unfortunately, the Golden Fields group is having some fortune as well. The Han scion has reached the green soul realm, although it is rumored that his effort was long and fraught. However, neither of his subordinates have had similar luck.”

Ling Qi had some mixed feelings about that news. Ling Qi, of course, had already known that Han Jian had fully broken through from Xiulan. On the one hand, she was happy for his success, but on the other hand, Gan Guangli did not need more competition.

“And our enemies?” she asked, leaving those thoughts silent. “You mentioned that Lu Feng has reached the third realm. What about that Jin?”

“He appears to be maintaining neutrality. His interest lies toward the production tournament by all accounts,” Xiao Fen said with a frown. “It is a facade, I am sure. It is the way of the Jin to present a friendly face to all while plotting in their hearts. It is to be expected from a house which was handed their position as they were.”

The Jin scion was still a wild card then. That was troublesome.

“Thank you for your work,” she began, only to pause as she sensed another presence approaching. Strange. She had taken them to an out of the way place on purpose… In front of her, Xiao Fen stiffened in alarm. Ling Qi broke into a grin. Sixiang chortled.

“I should return then,” Xiao Fen said stiffly, making to turn away.

“Why don’t I walk with you?” Ling Qi offered cheerfully, appearing at her side in a swirl of shadow.

“That is not necessary, Senior Sister,” Xiao Fen replied, but there was already a note of defeat in her tone.

“Not at all,” Ling Qi said brightly. “But it looks like we have company.”

“Yes,” Xiao Fen sighed.

Threads 53-Downtime 4

“Xiao Fen? Is that you up there?” a wary voice called out from the woods. “I don’t really have the hang of this art yet…”

“Your senses do not fool you, Liu Xin,” Xiao Fen said stiffly.

The boy that stepped out of the woods was an average looking sort. He wore the Sect’s silver robes, which had been made or modified into a talisman. He had short black hair tied into a topknot and a somewhat handsome face, but he was rather skinny and gangly in build. His grey eyes widened when they landed on Ling Qi, and he hastily bowed. “Oh, uh, that’s what that was,” he muttered to himself. “That is, my apologies for interrupting, Senior Sister.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ling Qi said in amusement, running an assessing eye over him. Fire and earth were his choice of elements from the look of it. Early second realm too, so he was talented, but not too talented or at least not too lucky.

“Why are you here, Liu Xin?” Xiao Fen asked.

“Ah, I just figured you shouldn’t walk back alone,” Liu Xin replied, his eyes darting from Ling Qi to Xiao Fen’s irate expression. “Lu’s guys are out in force.” Xiao Fen’s eyebrow twitched.

“How dutiful of you, Junior Brother,” Ling Qi said with an ill-concealed grin. “Xiao Fen has spoken of how dutiful you are.”

The younger girl shot her a look that could have melted steel, if her cultivation were higher. “Your concern is appreciated,” she said. “But you have only risked yourself pointlessly.”

“I’d have gotten away if it came down to it. I’d rather be around to watch your back.” He glanced at Ling Qi in worry. “You... tend to start fights when you come back from these.”

Ling Qi’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “It never hurts to have another set of eyes open,” she said with faux wisdom. “Why don’t we all walk together a ways then?”

Xiao Fen briefly looked as if she bitten into something sour. “Very well, Senior Sister.”

Ling Qi did not waste time as they began to return to the Sect. “So, Xiao Fen is a little reticent when it comes to talking about you, Liu Xin. You came to the Sect on a military scholarship?”

The young man inched away from her inspection. “Yes. I was probably going to enlist anyway.”

“Why is that?” Ling Qi asked. In Tonghou, few people wanted to join the army, even with its benefits, because the death rates for new recruits were so high.

“Dad disowned me a year before the Ministry guys came,” he answered. “Seemed like the best deal.”

His response gave her some pause. Although she was sure that she could pressure him into answering, she did not want to intrude that far into his private affairs. She glanced at Xiao Fen, who seemed unsurprised by this, and shrugged. “That’s fair,” she said. “You are from the capital, right? What is it like living there? I have not had the chance to visit yet.”

“Well, I’m from the root districts. So I’ve never seen the upper or even middle city up close,” he said. “It’s… peaceful, I guess. Normal. Or at least I thought it was.” The last was muttered under his breath, too low for a normal person to hear. Xiao Fen gave the sky a long-suffering look.

Ling Qi hummed thoughtfully. “I admit, I have only met Her Grace once, but it left an impression. What’s it like living under her?”

<Smooth,> Sixiang said drolly as Liu Xin shot her an alarmed look and glanced to Xiao Fen.

“Miss Ling is a direct subordinate of Cai Renxiang, Duchess Cai’s heir,” the Bai handmaiden said. “She is merely being blunt. Just answer honestly. Lying will only make you look foolish.”

Ling Qi looked at Xiao Fen, who looked back blankly. On Xio Fen’s other side, Liu Xin still looked uncomfortable. “It’s good, I think, as good as it can be.”

Ling Qi considered his answer and his body language. Strangely, he seemed less afraid than conflicted. “I’m glad, but you didn’t precisely answer my question.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like the bottom gets much interaction with the top, but I can’t complain. Without the kitchens and the dorms she had set up, I’d probably have had a worse time in the last year. I thought that kind of thing was just normal, but, uh, no one else seems to think so.”

“It is rather strange,” Xiao Fen sniffed. “But I am sure the Duchess has some plan aside from coddling mortals.”

Ling Qi frowned. Kitchens? Dorms? What was he even talking about? What would the Duchess have to do with such things? “What are you speaking of, Junior Brother? Some kind of work project?”

It wasn’t that unusual to round up young men for construction projects and pay them in food and lodging. It never really happened in Tonghou, but she had studied enough civics to pick up on that much.

“No, I mean places you can go to get a bowl of rice gruel and cot for the night to keep you out of trouble,” Liu Xin replied. “She had them built a while back, or so I understand.”

For free? Ling Qi almost blurted out, but that was obvious from context. “Why the hesitation then? That sounds very good indeed.” Especially since it wasn’t like they had to interact with the Duchess herself.

“Just lasting impressions, I guess,” Liu Xin replied, “My dad and granddad didn’t like her much. Grandad was a high official before the Duchess purged the ministries. They didn’t like the taxes much either.”

“I believe I recall some of my seniors discussing that matter. A very impressive show of control,” Bai Xiao Fen said, nodding her head. “Removing the previous duke’s influence in its entirety.”

“I dunno about the political stuff, but I know when gramps would get in his cups, he’d talk about the day she showed up at the Lower City’s Ministry of Commerce,” Liu Xin said. “The Regional Minister had his skin boiled right off, and his skull ended up displayed over the gates. Bunch of others went the same way. Gramps just got ejected though.”

Ling Qi was silent as they walked along under the boughs. The Duchess had actually appeared to a bunch of mortals? Recalling the pressure she had felt in the Duchess’ presence, how had any mortals withstood that? Maybe Liu Xin’s grandfather had mistook some kind of telepresence or projection technique. “Why was your grandfather treated more lightly?”

“He was just a cheat. He always complained that no one would hire him as a clerk since it was announced that he’d had his civil service exam scores falsified.” Liu Xin smiled bitterly down at the ground. “Guess that’s why dad was stuck making shoes. They were both always pissy about that.”

Xiao Fen’s scoff broke the silence that followed. “Your lot has been improved by being cut from such worthless fools.”

“Maybe,” Liu Xin laughed. “My old man was a real piece of work.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t just one ministry though.”

“Oh yeah. According to the old folks, things got real crazy. Guards and guard captains were executed, and whole ministries gutted. The army even came through and stomped a whole lot of smugglers and gangs and businesses to bits,” Liu Xin said, seeming to grow more comfortable. “Real crazy, like I said. Turned the rootways upside down.”

“Things must have gotten bloody after that.” Ling Qi grimaced. “How did anyone keep order with the government destroyed like that? It’d take decades to replace everyone, wouldn’t it?”

“The Duchess,” Liu Xin said, as if that explained everything. “And even the complainers say that things calmed down quickly with her intervention.”

Maybe it did. She had seen a glimpse of that power, and she had seen what Cai Renxiang could do with mundane administrative tasks. If Cai Shenhua decided that she was going to administer an entire city herself, Ling Qi suspected that she could do so just fine.

“Bizarre.” Xiao Fen shook her head. “Xiangmen is a city of over a million souls. Such a task must have taken the Duchess’ near full attention for the better part of a decade. Ten years of a peak cultivator’s time spent on mere administration.”

“I am certain the Duchess had good reasons,” Ling Qi replied.

“Oh, I am certain. The Hui must have truly made a mess of things,” Xiao Fen said.

Ling Qi hummed to herself. Her questions had ruined the mood for teasing. She would just have to make it up at their next session.

Bonus: Character Sheet

Ling Qi

Age:15

Spiritual Cultivation Level: Green Foundation Soul (3)

Physical Cultivation Level: Bronze Appraisal Physique (2)

Bound Spirits: Zhengui, Sixiang, Hanyi

Domain Weapon: Singing Mist Blade

- A twisting obsidian blade that releases a mist between its coils. It pulses frequently, releasing bursts of boundless Hunger, coveting all before it's glorious sight. The holes that line it's white bone hilt release a terrifying inhuman whistling screech as it soars through the air.

Weapon: Ebony Heartswood Flute

- A fine instrument, beyond the abilities of mortal craftsmen. Made of dark wood lacquered black and edged with silver, this flute channels qi into sound with great ease. Sturdier than any mortal steel. Contains the memory of Ling Qi’s original flute.

Armor: Swaying Twilight Gown

- A many layered gown of water smooth black silk with prominent white hems and a dark blue mantle split down the center like a pair of wings and embroidered with patterns of white lotus flowers. It’s train trails behind the wearer, never touching the base earth. A finely painted silk panel is affixed to the front, displaying curling vines and white petaled azalea flowers, spotted with red like drops of blood. Made by an apprentice of the Duchess Cai, and infused with a thread from the spirit Liming, it’s craftsmanship is near unparalleled, though its potential still sleeps. As it is now, it functions as powerful armor, and grants her the ability to fly, a skill that Imperial Cultivators cannot achieve unaided in her realm.

Special Skills:

- Peerless Musician - Ling Qi is an extremely skilled musician for her cultivation level and age, particularly when using woodwind instruments

- Sable Grace - Ling Qi has learned to move without moving, to dodge by dissolving into darkness

- Intensive Focus - While naturally flighty, Ling Qi has learned to focus her attention singularly when necessary, often with frightening results

Insights:

1. Sincerity is the measure by which the worthiness of the self and ones guests should be measured. (Argent Mirror)

2. There are endings and Endings, and only the very last one is final. Just as winter ends in spring, small endings are new beginnings. (Frozen Soul Serenade)

3. Though a path might be hard and lonely, it has worth if you can present something of beauty to those you care for at the end of it. (Forgotten Vale Melody)

4. There is no peace in emptiness, no content in stillness. Stagnation is death; act, change, move, think, and grow until the very end. (Sable Crescent Step)

5. Branches and trunks bend and sway, but the roots must remain unyielding. Retreat only so far and then no more. (Thousand Ring Fortress)

Advanced Insights:

1. One person’s desires cannot, alone, make a home nor a family.

Current Arts:

Eight Phase Ceremony

(Near Mastery) (Main Cultivation Art)

A mystic art based upon consumption of celestial qi to improve and refine body and mind granted to those smiled upon by some aspect of the moon in order to bring them closer to their patron. The Phase the Grinning Crescent Moon emphasizes the mystery and hidden nature of acts performed in the night. The Phase of the Hidden Moon emphasizes the search for secrets, hidden by the darkness of ignorance.

Argent Genesis

(Near Mastery) (Secondary Cultivation Art)

Created by the ancestors of Sect Head Yuan He and polished to perfection under his eye, this art is the successor to the Argent Soul cultivation art. This art offers many insights into building a strong foundation for a young cultivator's future growth. The neutral balanced qi cultivated by this art mingles easily with almost every form of Imperial cultivation, making for a fine secondary art for any young scion.

Forgotten Vale Melody

(Mastered)

There are many forgotten places in the world where human kind does not tread easily. This technique is a part of the chronicle of a long dead wanderer, composed into music and offered to the smiling moon. It speaks of mist covered valleys hidden deep in the mountains and the mischievous and hungry spirits that wait in the dark, and the loneliness of the wanderer’s path.

Mist of the Vale

Playing the first notes of the melancholy melody, the musician causes a light dark mist to roll forth from their instrument. The mist is filled with deceptive shadows and sounds, casting a pall darkness over all within. The mist spreads can cover further and further distances, but as the distance increases so too does the cost. The user may extend immunity to the mists effects to up to ten allies.

Within the mist, foes find their senses confused, attacks against the musician or their allies often strike at phantoms, and seeking to escape the mist or advance upon the musician often result in meandering travelers reminiscent of the composer's own wandering. In their confused state, they become vulnerable to the terrors which can reside in Vales far from civilization.

Dissonance of Night’s Terror

The melody grows low and eerie, punctuated by high, sharp notes, while the mists darken with indistinct and predatory shapes. Claws and fangs of mist and shadow tear at the musician’s foes, rending armor and leaving wounds that bleed freely to feed the hunger of the mist.

Starlight Elegy

The mournful and despairing tune saps the energy of those not insulated from the mist, making their limbs heavy and their thoughts clouded with exhaustion and longing for home. The cloying mist drags at their limbs like the weight of a life spent alone and drains away their qi rapidly, making it difficult to move, let alone attack. Alternatively, the power of the Elegy may be focused on a single target, drowning them in the endless mist, leaving them to wander as if alone and far from from home. So long as they remain lost, their allies aid cannot reach them, and they will wander alone in their perception, aware only of the haunting notes of the melody and its musician.

Traveler’s End

(This technique is only usable when all the other techniques of this art are active)

In a distant, misty valley, far from the works of mankind, a traveler completed a melody and offered it to the moon, the final notes echoing long after his last breath. This melody is but a shadow of that… but even shadows hold power.

The mist grows darker and more cloying still, blotting out almost all external light, and draining the warmth from those trapped within. The mist grows potent with dark qi, fogging the senses still further to bring them the lonely despair of the traveler’s final days. While active all other Forgotten Vale techniques are much harder to dispel, and the Travelers End must be dispelled first.

The user may choose to end the melody at any time after Travelers End has been used. If they do so, the song reaches its finale, and all other techniques of the Forgotten Vale are ended as well. All who were still lost within the mist suffer an immediate spiritual attack of great magnitude, an echo of the travelers death in that far away vale. Those damaged by this attack may be paralyzed utterly by the assault, if their composure is too weak.

Frozen Soul Serenade

(Mastered)

Winter’s Muse sings from its heart, the place of true cold, where even fire freezes and light dies. The truth of cold is the absolution of endings, and in this melody lies some small part of that truth. Its notes freeze blood and qi alike, its notes often the last thing its listeners hear in this world.

Spring’s End Aria

The first notes of the users song herald the end of warmth, draining the heat from the area and around them and crystalizing the moisture in the air into snow and ice. Enemies close to the user find their qi growing sluggish, sapping their spiritual defenses and bolstering the singer's own. Qi expended in the failed assault of the singer drains away, flowing into the singularity of cold created by the singer’s voice. Those whose dantians have been fully drained find their flesh frosting over and their blood running cold as they are lulled into the final sleep.

Hoarfrost Refrain

The user’s song rises into the howl of a blizzard in the depths of winter as they focus the expression of their will upon a single enemy. The song tears and freezes the flesh of the singer's enemy, and spreads through their blood and meridians, carrying the chill deeper still, like a frigid poison seeking the heart of its victims warmth. The chill clings long after the technique ends, sapping the targets vitality and will the insidious cold crawling ever closer to the victim’s heart until at last it stills or the technique is dispelled.

Echoes of Absolute Winter

A technique used in tandem with Aria of Springs End, if activated at the same time, the Aria carries an echo of true winter, stilling the very air around the singer with its freezing chill until blood grows sluggish and flesh cracks.

Call to Ending

The final verse of the Serenade is a quiet, sad thing, lacking the furor of earlier verses. Upon Singing it, a single target which suffers from Hoarfrost Refrains cold feels a terrible pain as the chill infecting them grows to a terrible potency, and every last shred of heat flees their body. Should the singer lay hands upon the target when activating the technique, the damage is greatly increased.

Sable Crescent Step

(Mastered)

Darkness has no form nor presence, and so those who master it learn to cast these things aside, and embrace the absence and silence of the empty night. This movement art focuses on understanding of this rare element allowing the user to move from place to place with little regard for what lies between their present position and their goal.

Grinning Crescent Dancer

Calling upon the favor of the Grinning Moon, and using their skill at manipulating dark qi, the user becomes an indistinct phantom, a flicker of shadow dancing between lights. Greatly enhances the dancers ability to avoid attacks and stay ahead of foes. The deeper the darkness grows the quicker their reactions and movement become. In darkness the dancer's immaterial form may ignore some of the impact of even those attacks which strike its flitting form. No mundane obstacle may block the movement of the Dancer, so long as they can perceive their destination, and entrapping them through wholly physical means becomes impossible.

One with Shadow

The user merges with the shadows and dark, dematerializing entirely. In this form they may slip from shadow to shadow, without crossing the space between so long as the destination shadow is at least moderately sized. In this form the user’s presence is muted, even to spiritual senses. If the user slips successfully into the shadow of an opponent, their connection grants their first attack against that enemy a great potency, ignoring the effects of any damage reduction the target may have. However, an attack on the shadow the user inhabits can harm the user, and damage will break this technique.

Sable Crescent Step

A master of this art may bring its lessons together in a single movement, an impeccable step of matchless grace. The cunning master may find several uses for this movement. Any normal attack may be avoided, no matter how unerring the aim, as the user simply ceases to exist in the material world for a moment, rematerializing within a large range of their current position. If more offensively inclined, the user may instead make a single physical attack utterly bypassing normal defenses.

Thousand Ring Fortress

(Mastered)

An old and well polished art developed by a once powerful but defunct family within the Emerald Sea province. The user joins themselves to the qi of the land, and becomes as one of the mighty trees which stand in the deepest forests of the province, vital and sturdy. Yet one tree is not a forest, and so the user may extend their vitality to their allies.

Deepwood Vitality

The user channels their qi into the earth, spreading like a great tangle of roots to link with up to twenty allies. The vital qi armors each fortifies each cultivator affected against negative effects, as well as a single attack, shattering if it is great enough but leaving the person beneath unharmed.

Ten Ring Defense

This user fills themselves with the vital qi of the great forests to protect themselves and their allies from harm. Glowing verdant qi enshrouds their form, bright as the leaves of the Emerald Seas canopy. The shroud drinks in the qi of the battlefield and grants qi regeneration for each enemy just as the leaves of spring and summer are restored from winter’s clutches. So long as battle is joined, this technique will never fade unless forcibly dispelled

Hundred Ring Armament

Diffusing heavy wood qi through flesh and muscle the user armors themselves and their allies with the iron bark of primeval forests. Granting the user the resilience of a centennial tree, they may shrug off lesser attacks from bladed or piercing weapons, and endure even powerful ones.

Thousand Rings Unbreaking

The eldest trees of the Emerald Seas are mighty things, ancient and nigh invulnerable, akin to living mountains. By calling upon the image of their power, the user gains some measure of their primeval resilience, ignoring minor wounds entirely, and lessening the effect of greater ones. Under this effect, the user becomes utterly immovable to enemy action, and cannot be grappled, unless the enemy’s cultivation exceeds theirs by two levels or one realm. This effect may be extended to up to ten allies. So long as this effect is active, the user cannot be incapacitated, any blow that would reduce their health to such a point instead reduces it to the merely low health. On activation of this aspect, Thousand Rings Unbreaking is automatically dispelled.

Phantasmagoria of Lunar Revelry

An art born from the nature of the dreaming moon, patron of artists and innovators, granted as a favor to one who impressed at her moonlit gala. This art calls upon the memories of that chaotic spiritual revel, allowing the user to use their qi to impress them upon the waking world, and move with the grace of a trueborn maiden of moonlight

Illustrious Phantasmal Festival

The foundational technique from which all others in the art arise. The user gathers their qi and the memories of their night of revelry and expels them through every available channel in a rush of power and gleaming many colored mist. Within a close range centered on the user, ghostly dancers ever shifting in form coalesce from the midst in a riot of color, laughter, music and movement. Amidst the revel the user is but one figure among many, and in its ever shifting tides, only those of sharp eye can even attempt to reach or strike the user directly. Within it’s confines the senses of enemies are confused.

Lunatic Whirl

The ghostly dancers gather around an intruder in the festival, laughing, singing and demanding a dance, forcing them to join the revelry. The dancers seize their arms and hands, dragging them through the chaotic revelry. Though the dancers will do no harm to their captive, the frenetic pace of the revelry is highly draining, and victims find their qi dribbling away, siphoned to the user while the sights and sounds of the revel cloud their minds and steal the strength from their limbs. So long as their hands lie in the grasp of the dancers, they will also find the meridians in their arms blocked and unusable.

Joyous Toast

The guests of the festival raise their voices and cups and stamp their feet in joy, roaring encouragement for the user and their allies and jeering at their foes. The next music, dance or art based technique used by those affected is empowered thanks to the encouragement of the guests.

Curious Diviners Eye

(Mastered)

Inquisitive Study

The user's eyes gleam briefly with a silver sheen as they study the object of their curiosity. The user’s perception increases greatly, allowing them to discern many details that they might otherwise miss.

Seeking Moon’s Eyes

Conjures three reflective silver wisps the size of a coin. Expressions of the Diviner's curiosity, these wisps seek their parents' interest eagerly. The wisps ignore wholly physical obstacles but cannot travel further than too far from their creator. The creator may see from the wisp's position as if they stood there themselves, though only in one direction at a time. This greatly increases their combat perception in the areas within which this sight overlaps.

Watchful Moon Analysis

Used in tandem with an damaging art, this allows the users thoughts to far outspeed their limbs, greatly slowing their perception of the world, and allowing the user to pick out minute details that might otherwise be missed in the flows of an enemy or obstacles qi, and adjust the course of their blow.

Initiate’s Viewing Pool

Requiring a surface of calm water at least two handspans wide, the user concentrates on a familiar person or place within five kilometers of their current position. The user is able to view the person or location in clear detail with both sight and hearing with slightly penalized perception.

Harmony of the Dancing Wind

(Near Mastery)

Spring Breeze Canto

This ephemeral melody rings out with the vital curiosity of youth, The melody carries the musician’s perception among her listeners out far, allowing her to clearly hear and see any one of them, regardless of distractions, so long as the songs echoes last. Once played, the canto lingers as an echo for several minutes with its full effect.

Summer’s Day Rising

This piece, embodying optimism and hope, speaks to the musician's bond with her listeners. Even the tenuous bond of casual acquaintance thrums with new vitality, bolstering allies significantly against spiritual attacks and deceptions. Those of stronger bond are bolstered still further, buoyed by their connection with the musician.

Industrious Labors of Fall

The third piece, which speaks of the labors made in preparation for the long winter, steadies the musicians audience and fills them with determination for the trials ahead. This bolsters the defenses of one’s allies, with the effects being more potent for ones closer to you.

Former Arts:

Argent Mirror

(Mastered)

The early form of the Sects defensive and perceptive arts. Through inner tranquility and surety of self, allows the user to defend against and dispel enemy illusions and crippling techniques as well. Through clarity of mind it allows the user to judge the world with sharp and clear eyes.

Argent Storm

The early form of the Sects physical enhancement and movement arts, combining the flexibility of wind with the sudden force of thunder. Fills the user with the strength of the great seasonal squalls which beat down upon the Wall year after year.

Argent Current

The first form of the Argent Sects melee combat arts. Combines the devouring nature of fire with the persistence of water to break through enemy defenses and bolster allied assault into an unstoppable flow. Together, no defense may stand against the Argent Sect.

Abyssal Exhalation

An art designed by a wanderer of the deep paths under the earth, where things best not seen gnaw at the foundations of the world. Yet in the darkness, he found truth. That earth and darkness are as one, devouring all things in the end. This art allows its user to surround themselves with that power; consume the energy of their foes, and call upon the things that lie in the dark. This art was stolen from Yan Renshu.

Falling Star Art

(Mastered)

An archery art based upon the meditations of an Imperial General on the nature of shooting stars and meteor showers, and observations on certain spirits. Foundational art for several more advanced archery styles. Wraps the users projectiles in wind and infuses them with the wrathful light of the heavens allowing the user to strike down far away foes with powerful shots, piercing through armor and disrupting movement.

Fleeting Zephyr

(Mastered)

The evolution of the emerald seas wind arts focusing on the fleetness and encompassing nature of wind. Grants the user and their followers fleetness of foot and quickness of action.

Potential Future Arts:

Songseeker's Ceremony

A cultivation art unique to Ling Qi, developed with the aid of three phases of the moon. Dreaming, Grinning, and Hidden combine to form the nascent steps of Ling Qi’s own path. The cultivation art rewards feats of daring, self expression, and dealings with the spirits of the world. It is the art of one who seeks the powers hidden in the world, and the beauty of songs old and new.

Laughing Flight of the Wind Thief

(Gifted to Ling Qi from the Grinning Moon)

In this world there are a million tales long forgotten, great and small. In a time before the rule of men, before the arrogance of dragons, there were only beasts that called themselves gods. Yet strength breeds arrogance, and arrogance breeds complacency, and so long ago a cunning young girl plotted and planned and stole the Sovereignty of Wind from the gods. She flew beyond their reach, and mocked them with every league, the wind carrying her laughter across the land. In this art are the seeds of the way she forged, refined for the modern day, to inspire a disciples own flight. In mastering the dual powers of darkness and wind, that they might never be caught unwillingly again.

Beast King's Savage Dirge

(Cai Library Gifted Art)

It is said in legend that as the power of the Horned Lord and the Diviner waxed, the eight Beast Kings who remained came together in council of war and united to bring down the conqueror once and for all. Their footfalls shook the earth and their savagery shook the skies, and though they were defeated in the end, echoes of that terrible march remained etched in the folklore of the Emerald Seas forever more. This art is part of a ballad said to have been composed for the last Weilu dukes, and though its origin is suspect, its power is not.

Bewitching Silver Maiden

(Cai Library Gifted Art) (Domain Incompatible)

An art of the Emerald Seas developed by the old ducal courts. Though their time has passed lessons can still be taken from their ways. This art teaches the user the ways of the fairy maidens who serve as handmaidens to the primeval spirits of the old forests. In crafting an alluring and mysterious mask, the user may mask their true self and intentions from unwelcome eyes.

Coldstar Blade Foundations

(Cai Library Gifted Art)

A Martial Art originating from the Heavenly Peaks province, the Coldstar Blade Foundations are a simplified version of the core martial techniques of the Frozen Sun Sect, who dwell upon the higher peaks of the province and meditate on the dichotomy of being closer to the sun--and yet colder than those who dwell in less rarefied heights. As a Minor Sect who failed to gain Imperial Patronage, they have found themselves outcompeted by the Great Sects who now monopolize the young and talented of the Celestial Empire, and have distributed these teachings in an attempt to keep their methods alive. Experts in the Coldstar Blade Arts are known for their graceful movements and precision--sequestering the life and vitality of their foes before detonating it in all-powerful finishing strikes.

Vengeful River King's Grasp

(Cai Library Gifted Art)

In the Thousand Lakes, the spirits of the rivers are often savage and mercurial beings, as swift to drag an unwary petitioner beneath the waters as they are to grant boons. Though the rivers have long been pacified by fear of the White Serpent Kings and Queens, there are still those who learn their lessons. This art seeks to master the sudden and savage movements of a river flooding in the spring, and drag under any unwary fools who might approach.

Starless Night's Reflection

(Cai Library Gifted Art)

In the Thousand Lakes, the infinite depth of the night sky is reflected from one thousand mirrors, displaying infinite emptiness extending beyond the heavens and into the depths of the earth. In meditating upon this conceptual void, the user seeks to become such a mirror, combining the formlessness and absorption of darkness with the rippling serenity and infinite depth of the lakes. Enemies striking the user and their allies find their weapons and techniques sinking into the shadows, to vanish, doing no more harm than they would if they slashed the waters of mighty Lake Hei, or aimed their malice at the starless sky.

Unstoppable Glacier's March

(Cai Library Gifted Art)

The rivers which wind through and water the Emerald Seas have their origin in the high mountain ice of the Wall. This melody seeks to capture the crushing inevitably of the eons long migrations of these great entities of ice, which in turn birth the great rivers and their unstoppable flow.

Threads 54-Nobility

If she were to be honest with herself, Ling Qi was dreading attending the hunting party. Even if Luo Zhong had invited her in good faith, which she was not sure he had, she was still spending the afternoon with a bunch of people who would be contemptuous of her at best. Frankly, she got enough of that at Cai Renxiang’s regular gatherings.

<You’re going in with a bad attitude again,> Sixiang warned. <I know I didn’t exactly help with that last year, but I got better. Have you?>

Sixiang was right. Ling Qi was working herself up before things even got started. Even if she were right in her suppositions, approaching the hunting party in such a negative frame of mind would only hurt her. No, she needed to approach this as if it really were a friendly invitation. She needed to act as if she were not forcing herself to be there; doing so would give insult to her host.

Attending parties like this was the most basic of the duties she had accepted when she became a noble, much less became Cai Renxiang’s retainer. If she could handle going ahead alone to fight an army of bandits and a renegade noble, then, by comparison, this should be simple.

<Good pep talk. Do you actually believe it?> Sixiang asked impishly.

<I thought you were trying to help,> Ling Qi snapped irritably.

<Just quit winding yourself up, you big goof,> Sixiang said. <So what if they don’t like you? They dislike the idea of you, but none of them know you. Just be yourself, and if they still wanna be assholes, then you can start plotting their downfall or whatever.>

“That’s a little too flippant,” Ling Qi muttered under her breath. Still, Sixiang had a point. She took a moment to bring herself to calm. Serenity was the name of the game. She was a noblewoman. She was unruffled by petty rumors and jibes. And she did not have the jitters over joining a gathering of peers more intimate than Cai’s impersonal parties.

<That’s the spirit,> Sixiang chirped.

It was time to stop dawdling on the path. Showing up late would only make this even more awkward. Ling Qi steeled her nerves and resumed her descent into the mountain foothills.

When she arrived at the meeting point, she found a colorful pavilion. It was a mundane structure of wooden poles and brightly colored cloth under which a number of disciples had gathered. Luo Zhong immediately drew her eye. As a formation stage cultivator, he was, by far, the most formidable presence. He was at the center of the group, leaning against the fluffy side of a massive hound.

Luo Zhong’s spirit companion was a stoutly built creature with a short blunt snout and extremely thick fur, particularly around the neck. His fur was black, fading to a lighter grey at the paws and snout. The hound’s head rose to Luo Zhong’s shoulder, even laying down as it was, and the Luo scion was not a short man. Between the hound and the man, their presence overwhelmed most everyone else present.

There were only about a dozen disciples present, most of which were only at the early stages of the third realm. A few were at the second stage, but of the other disciples present, only two drew her attention even half as strongly as Luo Zhong himself. One stood at the edges of the group, fussing over the half dozen odd other spirit beasts present, a mixture of stags and horses of varying breeds. She wore a scandalous garb, a white sleeveless and backless garment and dark grey pants. A thick cloak of white fur hung from her neck, covering her shoulders and back. She had short brown hair and skin of a similar tone to Ling Qi. Two red tattoos shaped like fangs marked her cheeks.

The other was a young man deep in conversation with a few other disciples. He was clearly trying to look like the picture of clean Imperial nobility with black hair bound in a tight topknot, but his features did not quite match the traditional look. He was square-jawed and tanned with a hint of stubble along his jawline and slightly wild eyebrows that gave him a permanently angry look. He wore light armor lacquered forest green over padded cloth of a darker shade.

Conversation between the disciples did not die down as she approached at a polite pace, but the shifts in body language and the flows of qi told her that she had been noticed. As she approached the perimeter of the pavilion, Luo Zhong rose from his position lounging against the side of his spirit beast. He clapped his hands, silencing conversation around him.

“Miss Ling, I see that you have accepted my invitation! This gladdens my heart,” he said.

“I would not wish to trample on your generosity, Sir Luo,” she replied, clasping her hands and giving an appropriate bow for a social peer or slight superior. His was a higher ranking clan, but she was, technically, a clan head while he was simply a lay member of his. The balance between respect and submission was tenuous there.

“I am surprised that you found the time,” the young man attempting to look Imperial said, sauntering up beside Luo Zhong. He was trailed by a few of the other disciples. “I would have thought you had not a free moment to find.” The way he stood by Luo Zhong told her that they were familiar and probably not so distant in status.

“It is true that I am very busy due to the expectations that Duchess Cai has laid upon my shoulders,” Ling Qi replied evenly. “However, I can make time when an invitation is extended.”

Luo Zhong merely laughed, a not unpleasant sound. “I am glad that you were able to find a free moment, Miss Ling. But excuse my rudeness. It seems I have not introduced you to the other guests.” He gestured to the young man at his side. “This is my friend, Wu Jing of the eastern Wu clan, Viscounts of the Russet Valley region.”

Wu Jing gave a short bow, just within the bounds of respect. Ling Qi matched him with an even smile. If she remembered her studies, the Wu were a horse breeding clan, a remnant of one of the larger southern clans destroyed in Ogodei’s invasion.

She continued to nod and smile as Luo Zhong introduced the other young men and women. Most were the children of established barons with one or two individuals like her. Presumably, they had signed up to take up lands in Luo territory.

As the introductions began to putter out, Ling Qi found a hand thrust out toward her. If she had not recently spent time studying old cultures of the Emerald Seas in the Moon dream, she probably would have been confused. Instead, she clasped the offered forearm and held in the wince as the girl she had spied caring for the beasts squeezed back with excessive strength.

“... And this is Alingge of the Daigiya,” Luo Zhong introduced, looking faintly amused as if he could sense her discomfort.

“You are the one who humiliated the Chu, yes?” Alingge asked bluntly, giving her an appraising look.

Ling Qi blinked but restrained the urge to break eye contact. “I do not know if I would use the word ‘humiliated,’” Ling Qi demurred.

“Mocked her aspirations and crushed her without taking a blow in return,” the girl sniffed. “If this is not humiliation, I fear your definition.”

“Your words were somewhat excessive, whatever your personal grudges,” Wu Jing commented. “One should have more decorum in a public duel.”

Alingge shot him an unimpressed look. “We speak of the Chu. No indignity is too great to be heaped upon them. The Daigiya will spit upon them for ten generations for their cowardice during Ogodei’s invasion. Have the survivors of Wu forgotten the grave of Patriarch Ce?”

“No,” Wu Jing admitted. “It is perhaps a poor hill to stake my flag upon. I apologize, Miss Ling. I meant only to warn you against making foes too easily.”

“I take no offense,” Ling Qi said, eyeing the young man and the other disciples watching. “I can admit that in the past, my manners have lacked. I am learning, however, and I am not averse to instruction.”

She was a little lost. Ling Qi had focused her studies on current events, so the events of Ogodei’s invasion were not a subject she was well read upon. She had studied the general gist of the Chu’s downfall after she had met and fought Chu Song at the argent vent last year, but the Chu had been decimated well after Ogodei’s invasion for failing to fall in line with Duchess Cai’s reforms. It seemed that whatever the Chu had done during Ogodei’s invasion, the Chu were still disliked for it.

“And that is sufficient,” Luo Zhong cut in smoothly. “Now, while we wait for our last few stragglers, might you tell us a tale of your excursion with Lady Cai? The rumors have gotten wild.”

Ling Qi dipped her head in acknowledgement, surreptitiously eyeing the disciples around them as she began to speak. Most of them regarded her with suspicion or well concealed envy. She saw it whenever she spoke in a way that implied closeness or familiarity with Cai Renxiang. Ling Qi thought Luo himself was sincere though. He was giving her a chance to make her case to the disciples aligned to him.

<Even that Wu guy seems to be hedging his bets more than anything,> Sixiang hummed.

So Ling Qi told her story and watched her listeners. She embellished very little, and the only outright lie she told was the official one, that the Bai they had encountered was merely a renegade from a local baronial house, seeking to abscond with the treasure trove arts in the shipment. She did not know how the Duchess and the Bai were enforcing that lie, but she was going to stick to it.

Finishing the tale, she accepted Luo Zhong’s invitation to sit down with him, choosing to sit on one of the camp chairs next to Alingge and across from Luo Zhong. There was a tense moment when his hound got up to loom over her, leaning in to sniff her face suspiciously. However, she faced the hound without blinking, and after a moment, the beast let out a satisfied whuff and laid back down without a word.

“Excuse Ta, Miss Ling. My old friend is a wary sort,” Luo Zhong said as he sat down on the reclining beast’s back, practically sinking into the fur.

“I would expect nothing less,” Ling Qi replied easily. She had been worried that the dog might decide to slobber on her when he had let his dark purple tongue loll out, but thankfully, it had not come to that. “I am sure he means only to protect you.”

“As any cultivator’s spirit should,” Alingge said to some muttered agreement. “Will your xuanwu be joining us?”

“I am afraid not,” Ling Qi said.

“Any troubles?” Wu Jing asked. “The incident with you and that Yu girl caused some talk.”

<Looks like not everyone's buying the story,> Sixiang murmured.

“Yu Nuan was very helpful, allowing my spirit to challenge her and gain experience,” Ling Qi said lightly. “But no, Zhengui is too young for more sedate events like this. I was afraid he would disrupt things too much with his youthful enthusiasm and bulk.”

“This is unfortunate,” Alingge said with a frown. “I had wished to see a legendary beast in person.”

“Perhaps next time?” Ling Qi hedged, glancing to Luo Zhong, who inclined his head very slightly. “What are the plans for today’s activities?”

“There is some dispute,” Luo Zhong admitted, “on whether we should spend the day on light competition, hunting lesser beasts, or set ourselves a more ambitious goal and stalk something more difficult together.”

“A little polite competition is good for watering one’s ambitions,” Wu Jing said, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “Besides, a beast powerful enough to be a danger to all of us? Unlikely.”

“Even the spirits of this tame land deserve respect. I would prefer to stalk more worthy prey,” Alingge countered. “Power is not everything. Let us seek out a cunning foe.”

Ling Qi listened as the others voiced their opinions and found that the disciples were fairly evenly divided in opinion.

Luo Zhong spread his hands and chuckled. “You see, Miss Ling? What is your opinion on the matter?”

Threads 55 Nobility 2

“I think I find the appeal of a more challenging hunt greater,” Ling Qi answered carefully. She kept her eyes on Luo Zhong, but she didn’t miss some of the frowns that her answer brought among the disciples on the other side.

“Then, as my honored guest, I will defer to you,” the young man replied with a faint grin. Ling Qi had to restrain herself from showing her irritation. There was no need to place that kind of responsibility on her! She had only agreed with half of his own party.

<Mm, I think it’s meant as a challenge,> Sixiang muttered.

“Hmmm, but how to organize things?” he continued, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Beneath him, his hound let out a rumbling chuff, and he glanced down. “Ah, perhaps you are right, Ta. Alingge, Miss Ling, will you do us the favor of scouting ahead? I will organize the rest.”

She glanced at the other girl, who nodded cheerfully. “It would be my honor, Sir Luo,” Alingge said, clapping her fists together.

“I do not mind at all,” Ling Qi replied, offering a bow.

She and the other girl left the pavilion with only a few more pleasantries. While Ling Qi took to the tree branches, Alingge chose to ride on the back of one of the gathered beasts, a black and silver furred doe that stood a bit over two meters at the shoulder. She suspected the deer was of a kind with the fourth grade beast she had once encountered in the forest.

“Did you have a plan in mind?” Ling Qi asked as the pavilion faded into the greenery behind them. “We will have to be careful not to pick out anything too dangerous, I think. Anything that would threaten one of us or Sir Luo could be very deadly for the rest.” Alingge and Wu Jing were both roughly at her own level of cultivation, but they were the only ones.

Alingge looked up at her when she spoke. The girl rode bareback on her doe, but she did make use of a set of reins. “Do not misunderstand,” she said. “I seek cunning prey, not a great battle. It would be wasteful and destructive to enact such a thing merely for play.”

Ling Qi thought of the ruin that she and Cai Renxiang made of the sparring fields and dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Agreed. Something in the middle of the third realm then?”

The other girl hummed in agreement. “That would be best,” she agreed. For a moment, there was silence between them, but then, Alingge glanced up. “Would you answer me a question?”

“I may,” Ling Qi said noncommittally. “If the answer is something which I can freely speak of.”

“What occured on the peak of the Outer Mountain? What happened to the peak’s guardian?” Alingge asked. “Rumors flow like water, but the truth is unclear.”

Ling Qi blinked as she leaped ahead to the next branch. It shouldn’t have been a surprising question, but it was actually the first time someone aside from her friends had asked her. “I had been learning from the spirit at the peak for the better part of a year,” Ling Qi answered after a moment. “Between teaching me and some other complications in her Way…”

“The ice child,” Alingge murmured as she guided her mount through the tangle of trees and brush.

“Yes,” Ling Qi admitted. “The peak’s guardian wanted her daughter to be able to leave and live,” Ling Qi felt a surge of melancholy as she thought back to those final moments on the peak. She remembered Zeqing’s cracked face and Hanyi’s tears. “Even if it was only for a short time, as her student, I wanted to respect her wishes.”

<You’re doing as fine a job of it as can be expected,> Sixiang whispered, and Ling Qi felt a brief pressure on her shoulder, as if a hand was resting there

“I admire your integrity,” Alingge said frankly. She did seem distracted though, glancing over Ling Qi’s shoulder. She must be able to sense Sixiang to an extent. “Few would value their connection to a spirit so highly in these days.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” Ling Qi replied automatically. “If you do not mind me asking a question in turn, what is your situation? I had thought the people of the Southern Emerald Seas were… integrated. I apologize if the question is rude, but I’m unsure of your position.”

Alingge let out a wry chuckle, turning her eyes back to the forest ahead. “The Daigiya are viscounts by your measure. We are descended from the clans which joined with Imperial settlers in the early days of the Hui. For our cooperation, we were granted privileges.”

<I wonder if it was really that simple,> Sixiang thought.

Ling Qi did not voice any doubts and simply nodded in understanding. “Still, I had thought I was doing well in studying the clans of Emerald Seas. That I somehow managed to miss something so large is disturbing.”

“Do not be disturbed,” Alingge said. “Of the four clans, two have taken to Imperial names and ways. My people and the Gi in the west do not seek for attention in the wider world.”

“It’s a little dangerous to isolate yourself, isn’t it?” Ling Qi asked, looking at the girl out of the corner of her eye.

“And so I am here,” the other girl replied. “To learn and ingratiate. However, the heavens are high and the capital far. We do not step beyond our bounds. We are not an important piece in the games of the greater clans. It is the duty of the Luo to see to that.”

Ling Qi wasn’t sure that was a good attitude. In her experience, living quietly and wanting to be left alone were poor protections. However, she wouldn’t be rude enough to disagree. “As you say. So, what are we searching for?”

Alingge seemed happy enough to change the subject. “A predator, I should think. A beast who hunts with ambush and mobility that we might hunt and be hunted in turn.”

“I might suggest finding a potent enough wolf pack, but I am not sure if that would offend our host,” Ling Qi joked.

“Yes, that would be a poor choice,” Alingge laughed. “Perhaps we should seek out mountain cats?”

“That seems like a likely choice,” Ling Qi agreed. She allowed herself to relax slightly. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As she was the more mobile of the two, it fell to Ling Qi to move back and forth between scouting and reporting to the main party as they moved south, seeking the signs of a sufficiently potent beast. This role unfortunately left her little time to actually socialize with the other disciples, but she was able to observe them as she came and went, making reports on her and Alingge’s progress. The main party remained in a relaxed mood, and it seemed to her that most of them were genuinely enjoying themselves.

With the practice she had gotten over the last few months by attending her liege’s parties and cultivating the Harmony of the Dancing Wind art, she could see the connections that ran through the group. She could decipher who was actually friends and who was simply tolerating another. There was less division than she might have expected.

There were clear cliques. The largest was Wu Jing and several other noble born disciples, a cluster of five brightly dressed young men and women who very much seemed to be trying at being exemplars of Imperial nobility. The other cliques were much smaller. There were a pair of young men with fur cloaks and silver jewelry with the scent of the moon about them, a trio of disciples with modern but less ostentatious clothing, and one or two others who seemed to drift from one group to another as if unsure of where they belonged.

Luo was at the center of it all, of course, but it was difficult to see how he leaned. He seemed amicable with everyone, and the deference they all showed toward him made it impossible to pick out any inclinations. Without spending more time speaking with them, anything more than surface level observations were impossible. She did not have too much time to ponder on the social situation since most of her effort was put into the tracking.

Their efforts did pay off. It was not long before Alingge and Ling Qi found the trail of a beast which met the conditions they had set for themselves, sussing out the edges of its territory by the marks, physical and spiritual, that it left on the world. Ling Qi headed back to report their finding to Luo Zhong.

***

“A mirage lion,” Luo Zhong mused as he considered her words. “The two of you were certainly swift in finding such valuable prey.”

“So Alingge has said,” Ling Qi demurred. The girl had rejected appellations like “Miss” so Ling Qi was left to just use her name. “She believes the one we are tracking to be of the high third grade, equivalent to a cultivator of the threshold stage.”

“Mm, a deadly creature,” Wu Jing noted, standing beside Luo Zhong. The others were arrayed in a loose group around them. “Are we certain we wish to push for such a trophy?” the boy asked dubiously. “It is difficult for those of lower cultivation to see through their manipulations of wind and light, and their claws are deadly to the unguarded.”

“It is an enemy well within our grasp, I think,” Ling Qi replied. “I do not see any weak or unready cultivators around me. Even limiting ourselves to less destructive arts, I do not see any real trouble finding us.”

“We will succeed for certain,” Wu Jing agreed. “If nothing else, Sir Luo might intervene. I simply wonder at the need for taking such risks for a bit of sport.”

<He’s not wrong that if it gets the jump on one of these lower cultivators, they’ll be going to the Medicine Hall at best,> Sixiang mused.

“Contrary as always, my friend,” Luo Zhong chuckled. “Your words have merit. A beast of the threshold stage is quite the terror for many here. However, it is unseemly to be too cautious,” he chided. “I did make the decision to hunt something more difficult this afternoon.”

“As you say,” Wu Jing accepted, dipping a short bow. “I suppose Miss Ling has a plan then?” he asked, turning his gaze back to her.

“Alingge and I have some ideas, yes,” Ling Qi replied. Her first choice in a real fight would have been blanketing the territory in mist and then freezing the creature with a well placed refrain, but they were trying to be restrained here. “However, we would not be so bold as to plan without consulting Sir Luo or the rest of you.”

“Of course not, but I would hear your ideas all the same,” Luo Zhong said with a thin smile.

<Moons, every conversation is twice as long when you gotta spend half of it dancing around,> Sixiang complained, giving the impression of shaking their head.

“We believe that the best plan is one in which we bait the beast out and strike it when its own attempted ambush has failed. Once it has been wounded, tracking it will be much easier,” Ling Qi proposed.

The Luo scion rubbed his chin in thought, leaning against the side of his giant hound, who still regarded her with a sort of faint distrust. “A workable outline,” he said. “What role would you prefer then, Miss Ling? That of bait or a striker?”

Ling Qi considered the question. She did not doubt that she could suppress her qi and appear much weaker than she was. She would look more impressive, but being the bait was a more isolated role. She would have less time to interact with and make connections within the main group, which was the main point of attending this event. However, given that she had suggested this hunt and strategy...

“It would be inappropriate of me to suggest such a plan and then not volunteer for the more dangerous role,” Ling Qi said, a touch of exasperation reaching her tone. Being put on the spot repeatedly by Luo Zhong was beginning to bother her.

“I will praise your personal integrity at least,” Wu Jing said reluctantly, crossing his arms.

“A fine sentiment, although our companions are hardly helpless,” Luo Zhong said, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He knew what he was doing by thrusting decisions upon her. “So, friends, we shall need one or two additional volunteers. Who is feeling brave?”

Ling Qi waited as conversation began around her to suss out who else would be going along. She allowed her gaze to roam over the group as they spoke. She hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to keep whoever got picked safe.

<Stop it, Ling Qi,> Sixiang said in exasperation.

<Stop what?> Ling Qi thought back.

<The whole detached, aloof act. I don’t want to boss you around, but c’mon, girl. I get that this strategy helped when you didn’t know what you were doing, but you’re past that now. You know your manners, you know the expectations, you’ve even got a fancier dress than anyone else here. So just engage with the people you’re supposed to be chatting up already! Stop treating them like an obstacle or challenge, and just treat them like people.>

Despite herself, Ling Qi’s eyes widened at Sixiang’s tirade, and Luo Zhong glanced her way. “Is something wrong, Miss Ling?” he asked casually.

She shook her head faintly. “No, there is nothing, Sir Luo,” Ling Qi answered.

“I do not mind if you have any input on the selection,” he said lightly.

Ling Qi glanced around at the others present. With Sixiang’s words still echoing in her thoughts, she really looked at them. She looked not at their cultivation nor the patterns of their group dynamics.

These people were friends. The cliques she had seen existed, but as she watched, one of the young men in fur cloaks boasted his prowess to a girl in an elaborate green gown, and the girl tittered in amusement. Wu Jing argued with a young man in simple and utilitarian garb, but both of them did so in good humor. Everyone was polite and formal, and she did sense some animosities within the group, but had she been looking for masks and schemes where there were none?

“No. I do not know anyone well enough to have a useful opinion,” Ling Qi found herself saying in a quiet voice.

Luo Zhong looked at her for a moment, then simply gave a hum of agreement. “Well, we shall let them have it out for a while longer then.”

***

In the end, the ones who Luo Zhong decided on were one of the young men in cloaks, Sha Feng, and a girl named Lin Fei with spectacles and a plain grey gown.

“Thank you, Sir Luo. I shall try to be the one targeted! It will be a unique experience, I am sure!” Sha Feng boasted jovially. The young man was tall and lanky with a roguish look to his features. He had the feeling of an eager spring breeze, and looking close, Ling Qi could feel the faint imprint of a grinning crescent on his spirit.

“And I suppose it shall be down to me to put you back together afterward,” Lin Fei drawled. “I fear for our future.” The girl had a no nonsense air about her and wore her black hair in a tight bun of the sort Ling Qi typically saw on older ladies. Her spirit had a solid and dependable feel like a field of dark earth, newly tilled.

“Sweet Lin Fei, your words wound me. As a man, I am shamed by your lack of confidence in me,” Sha Feng said with a put-upon sigh. Ling Qi raised an eyebrow. Either Sha Feng was a flirt, or the two were quite familiar with each other.

“I am only as confident as you deserve,” the girl said haughtily, half in jest. Sha Feng hung his head, and the other cloaked young man, his twin brother Sha Fong, clapped him on the back.

Conversation ceased as Luo Zhong spoke up again. “I am certain that with Miss Ling along, there will be no trouble,” Luo Zhong said with amusement.

“I do not doubt your power, Miss Ling, only this one’s recklessness,” Lin Fei said, briefly dipping her head.

“Neither do I,” Sha Feng agreed. “But I hope you will not take all the fun.”

“I will try not to,” Ling Qi replied. She forced herself to relax. Sixiang was right; Ling Qi was doing herself harm by trying to act like someone else. She was Ling Qi, not Bai Meizhen or Cai Renxiang, and it was time that she started acting like it. If that brought trouble… she would overcome it. “So long as you are able to keep up,” she added, allowing herself a challenging smile.

That brought an answering grin to Sha Feng’s and his brother’s face and a sigh from Lin Fei. She caught Luo Zhong giving her a brief but unreadable look out of the corner of her eye. Soon, the three of them set off from the group, who were already making arrangements to split into trappers and archers.

As they set off through the trees, Ling Qi glanced back at her two temporary followers. They walked a half step behind her and did not shy from her gaze. They were probably from baronial clans then, and the main line at that. She turned her attention to Sha Feng. “You follow the path of the Grinning Moon then?”

Sha Feng paused, almost missing a step. “Yes, is it that obvious?” he asked curiously.

She could feel the currents of wind and ripples of the moon in his aura, so to her, it was. “Only if you have the right eyes,” she replied impishly.

“Ah, of course. I had heard some rumors in that regard,” Sha Feng said, giving her an assessing look. “It is good to see that they are not just that.”

“Moon spirits can be dangerous and unreliable things,” Lin Fei added carefully. “It is unusual for a new cultivator to walk that path.”

“Hmph, I resent that,” Sixiang grumbled, and both of Ling Qi’s companions nearly jumped.

“I believe the revel I met you at could have left me catatonic if I had not impressed your grandmother,” Ling Qi retorted dryly, addressing the empty air. “So her words are not wrong.”

“Details,” Sixiang huffed.

“So that is the nature of your hidden spirit,” Sha Feng mused. “It seems that you must be quite the spirit speaker, Miss Ling.”

“I am very lucky,” Ling Qi acknowledged. “But enough of me. I am afraid I am not very familiar with your group. When did the two of you reach the Inner Sect?”

“Lin Fei and I were lucky enough to scrape through last year,” Sha Feng said with a chuckle.

“Speak for yourself. I placed fifth among the production students,” Lin Fei replied with a sniff.

“You knew each other before then?” Ling Qi asked.

“We are quite familiar indeed. Our families’ lands neighbor one another. We are betrothed,” the young man explained cheerfully.

“The trials one undergoes for family,” Lin Fei said with a small smile.

Ling Qi was struck by the two’s interaction. Despite her jibes, Lin Fei did not seem to dislike Sha Feng. The only examples of noble betrothal she had seen thus far were Xiulan and that girl who had attacked her over Huang Da. It seemed bizarre that Lin Fei was so content.

<Getting off track. Confront issues later. You have a good conversational flow going at the moment,> Sixiang chided.

“I wish you happiness,” Ling Qi said after a beat and casually changed the subject. “If I might ask another question, have I done something to offend Wu Jing?”

Sha Feng’s eyes narrowed, but Lin Fei sent him a chiding look. “I do not believe so,” The girl reassured Ling Qi. “Sir Luo and Sir Wu have an… eccentric relationship. Sir Luo seems to encourage his contrariness, even when it is mildly disrespectful. Please do not take offense.”

“I do not,” Ling Qi said. “But I cannot help but feel that he has some personal dislike for me.”

“He is simply sore regarding recent events,” Sha Feng huffed. “The Wu family did better than the Li in the invasion, but they were still reduced to a bare remnant from the Counts they once were. They now reject the ways of the Emerald Seas and cleave strongly to the Peaks. As if we cannot stand on our own!” Sha Feng explained, growing more disgruntled by the word. It had the air of a previously spoken grievance.

“Sha Feng,” Lin Fei said harshly, cutting him off.

“My apologies,” he said sheepishly. “Please do not give my rambling much merit.”

Ling Qi nodded easily but filed away his words for consideration. She supposed that there would be a faction, even in the Cai’s supporters, that would be displeased by last year’s events. The Bai were not friendly with the Imperial throne. Ugh. Things only got messier every time she looked closer.

“I will try not to do so,” Ling Qi said instead. “I suppose I will just have to try and convince him of Lady Cai’s position.”

Sha Feng laughed, but there was a touch of nervousness in it. “I am sure you can manage, Miss Ling.”

“... Yes,” Lin Fei agreed. “Ah, Miss Ling, are you going to suppress your qi then?”

“Right, my apologies,” Ling Qi said. “It slipped my mind.”

Ling Qi breathed in deeply and scattered her qi as she had while hiding in the clouds. For a moment, she felt her outline waver. She had practiced since then though, suppressing her power for the comfort of her household, and so, rather than vanishing entirely, her power merely ebbed low at the very threshold of the third realm. It was uncomfortable but bearable. She could hold this indefinitely barring sudden shocks.

“Let’s get baiting then,” Ling Qi said lightly. “I think it would be best if we pretended to be a gathering party…”

Threads 56-Nobility 3

Ling Qi felt as if she were on the cusp of a realization. Meizhen used her mannerisms as a nigh invulnerable armor to deflect unwanted social advances, and for a time, emulating her had been helpful. But just as she had found her own combat style, Meizhen’s social style was not hers, and continuing to cling to that false face was only doing her harm in her interactions with others. She would have to figure out her own approach in the future, an approach that was more honest to herself. For now, she had a lion to hunt.

It did not take too long to work out their plan. They would separate and begin working their way through the beast’s territory, harvesting plants and herbs. Ling Qi would take the central role so that she could easily react if either of the other two were attacked. Sha Feng and Lin Fei would also release their spirit beasts, a hawk and an owl respectively, to act as overwatch and messenger to the other groups as necessary.

Simple and elegant as a plan should be, in Ling Qi’s opinion. It did rely on the lion being hungry enough to attack, but Alingge and she had not seen any signs of recent kills, so that should be fine. If the lion did not take the bait, they would just have to flush the beast out of its lair.

The downside of this was that it was a pretty dull plan to enact. The fact that they had to separate meant that they couldn’t chat much, and Ling Qi had found that she didn’t mind her companions’ company.

By the time they separated and Ling Qi started collecting herbs, she was beginning to entertain the seed of an idea. Maybe she could set up her own little gathering in the future? It would have to be a small gathering, since she still disliked the crowding of Cai Renxiang’s parties, but she should try to slowly bring some of her disparate social groups together. She wasn’t quite the same confused commoner she had been the last time she had made the effort with the Golden Fields group and Su Ling and Li Suyin.

While she mused on such thoughts, she kept her senses alert, keeping close track of the twin beacons that were her companions’ qi. They were well out of sight, but if she poured on the effort and dropped her suppression, she could be on either of them in seconds.

<You’re such a mother hen sometimes,> Sixiang laughed.

<There’s nothing wrong with caution,> Ling Qi thought primly, reaching down to pluck a bunch of wild berries. She paused just before her fingers could touch them. She had felt something, a ripple in the wind and ambient qi, a well hidden spike of hostility and hunger. Ling Qi vanished, leaving the berry bush swaying as air rushed in to fill the space where she had been crouched.

It did indeed only take a few seconds for her to reach the clearing where Sha Feng had been gathering herbs. A snarling, two-meters-long cat with dull grey fur marked with darker spots and stripes was upon him. The beast had him pinned to the ground, and its jaws were locked around his forearm, fangs digging into the thick leather bracers worn under his armor and the flesh beneath. The beast’s claws scrabbled at his chest, cutting through cloth and leather to cut lines of red in flesh.

Ling Qi had to restrain the reflexive urge to sing a single sharp note and blast the beast off of him because Sha Feng’s expression was one of excitement rather than distress as he struggled to wrestle his way out from beneath the great cat. Remembering her words, Ling Qi instead materialized in the branches of a tree above and breathed out, a ripple of vital qi spreading through the clearing with the beat of her heart. Sha Feng’s skin shimmered with viridian light and suddenly, the beast’s claws no longer found purchase.

She watched in some bemusement as the young man used the beast’s moment of confusion to free his other arm and with a vortex of howling air gathering around his fist, punched the lion in the side of the head in three rapid jabs. The beast seemed hardly harmed by the punches, but the grip of its jaws on Sha Feng’s forearm loosened. Ling Qi felt the older boy take hold of the wind, his outline briefly wavering as he slipped free and reformed a meter away in a ready position, a saber in his left hand.

The beast let out a low snarl as it rounded on him, and she could sense the beast’s attempt to discern the source of the shimmering viridian armor. It wasn’t stupid. For a time, Ling Qi patiently observed as the lion circled and the boy feinted and slashed, not letting himself get pinned again.

Then Ling Qi spotted the fluttering of wings in the sky overhead and grinned, allowing her hold on her qi to loosen. The lion immediately began to turn toward her, the greater threat, ignoring the bellicose boy advancing on it with a saber only to yowl as an arrow carved from pale green wood punched into its flank from the other side. Immediately, the beast shimmered, the air around it shifting as light and wind bent. Ling Qi watched as it darted off to the south, but her other senses showed the trail of qi leading west.

The hunt that followed lasted a bit under half an hour as the pursuing nobles came out of the woodwork to chase down the fleeing beast. It was not exactly what Ling Qi would call harrowing or challenging, but she somehow got caught up in it, hopping through the canopy of the trees beside Alingge as they directed the others. Some part of her had been worried about Sha Feng’s wounds, but all told, he seemed rather pleased with them, boasting to the others about his brief tussle and letting Lin Fei fuss grumpily over him.

At last, the lion fell, wounded and boxed in by disciples with spears and swords. She might have felt bad for it, but Ling Qi was not that softhearted. It was a predatory spirit beast, unbound and wild. The only reason it did not prey on humans regularly was geography. All in all, the hunt itself seemed almost anti-climactic.

She supposed that the hunting was always a sideshow given the venue. Ling Qi watched a particularly brawny boy hoist the carcass onto his shoulders as the others chatted and laughed. Through the crowd, she met Luo Zhong’s eyes, and he smiled. The time for the real challenge had come. The victory celebration.

So far, she had been prodded and herded and put on the spot. But why? She still was not sure of the Luo scion’s intentions, and that bothered her.

***

Ling Qi idly swirled the contents of her cup as she observed the ongoing celebration. From the depths of someone’s storage ring, the party had gained several barrels of a rich fruit cider, and in the center of the clearing, a great fire pit had been dug to use in roasting their catch. Ling Qi was not sure how good the meat of the mirage lion would end up tasting, but she supposed that wasn’t the point of this gathering. Besides, the disciple tending the fire did look like he knew what he was doing with those spices. The beast’s skin was stretched on a drying rack and would go to Alingge, who had landed the fatal shot. The core had been presented to Luo Zhong, of course.

She observed the scion of the Luo where he sat, leaning against the side of his hound, which gnawed lazily at the bloody haunch that had been provided to him. Luo Zhong seemed to have an air of satisfaction about him as he chatted with the Sha brothers.

“Satisfied with your success?” Ling Qi did not startle when Wu Jing spoke up from beside her. It had been easy to sense his approach.

“I am. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves,” Ling Qi replied evenly. She did not turn toward him. It was a minor snub, but no more than his rude words earlier had earned. “Except perhaps for you.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Wu Jing did not seem to take offense, merely making a noise of agreement. “No one received any serious wounds. The risk was still foolish, but I have no reason for complaint.”

She looked over at the young man out of the corner of her eye. “We are all cultivators. Without risk, how will we grow?”

He gave her an unimpressed look from underneath his bushy eyebrows. “And that, Miss Ling, is part of why I find you disagreeable. You risk easily, you offend easily, and you think nothing of us as you climb over our heads seeking higher peaks.”

“I will not apologize for growing as strong as I am able,” Ling Qi shot back. “It is others who choose to take offense when I pass them.”

“I am not criticizing your focus on growth,” Wu Jing said with a frown. “It would be foolish not to leverage your talent. I am criticizing your disregard. Even now, you hold your peers in contempt. Nay, I would say that you do not even see them as your peers. It is an attitude that bodes poorly for the future of our province.”

It was only Sixiang’s influence that kept Ling Qi from snapping back. “As I have been reminded of many times, I have little experience in the dealings of my peers,” she rebutted coldly. “I apologize if that has caused me to give offense.”

“I would not find you so disagreeable if it were mere inexperience,” he countered. “You are not as subtle as you think, Miss Ling. I have observed you at Lady Cai’s gatherings. You think very little of us. Even today, you approached this gathering as a tiresome chore. Others might be afraid to speak their minds on the matter due to your backing, but I am not.”

Ling Qi was silent because he wasn’t wrong. Even if she had resolved to change her approach, it didn’t change how she had acted previously in social gatherings. “You are correct that I find large gatherings tiresome and treacherous, but that does not reflect on individuals,” she replied after a moment. “I find Sha Feng and Lin Fei agreeable enough, and I quite like Alingge after our conversation. So, I will apologize one final time.” Her voice grew sharp . “However, if you continue, I will take offense.”

She met his eyes, glacial blue to stony grey, and she felt the pressure of his qi against hers. A dusting of frost spread over the grass, and the faintest rumble of vibration shook the earth. Then, the moment passed. Ling Qi was faintly aware of some of the others shooting curious or concerned looks their way.

“Perhaps you speak true,” Wu Jing said as the pressure faded. “But I find your attitude troubling all the same for one who has the ear of our lady. If you are sincere, then pay a mind to the perceptions and echoes of your actions in the future. The Emerald Seas can little afford instability. The Wu remember how fragile prosperity truly is.”

“I hear your advice,” Ling Qi said, and now that she had calmed her temper, she understood at least the position he came from. It struck her then what an awkward position Cai Shenhua must have put a large section of her own supporters in with last year’s business. It was grating to be thought of as a bad influence on Cai Renxiang though. “But, like my lady, I will not compromise on some matters.”

“We will see. I apologize for my own harshness and for taking so much of your time, Miss Ling.” Wu Jing offered a stiff, but slightly lower than necessary, bow and turned to join the others.

<What a pain,> Ling Qi thought.

<Hey, now, that’s the attitude bringing you trouble,> Sixiang chided. <It’s not like you’ve given much reason for them to be friendly, right?>

Ling Qi silently agreed, but it was still a pain. But she wouldn’t get anywhere just standing here alone, and so, taking a moment to center herself, Ling Qi strode toward Sha Feng and his brother. Best to start on more familiar ground.

She kept herself focused as she mingled, not letting her thoughts wander too much. It was not that bad a time really. She chatted with the Sha brothers, swapping stories about encounters with moon spirits, which evolved into speaking with Lin Fei and one of her close friends, a doll-like and exuberant girl who was practically swimming in pink silk and lace. Ling Qi suspected that Xiulan would either love or hate the girl with no in-between. Still, her experience with her hot-headed friend meant that she could hold her own in a conversation about style and fashion.

When they drifted off, she spoke with Alingge for a time regarding the care and training of spirit beasts. She may have ended up gushing over Zhengui a little too much, but Alingge seemed not to mind. The meat was finished about the time they finished up their conversation, and she accepted her portion from the boy who had handled the cooking, noting the faintly starry-eyed way in which he regarded Alingge. He was a new baron like herself, if she remembered correctly. She supposed she wished him luck. The roast was surprisingly good; he was certainly skilled enough at cooking.

From there, she drifted to and fro, engaging with the other disciples in pairs or trios. She even managed to have a fairly civil conversation involving Wu Jing as things were winding down. She found her efforts stymied with some. Her previous reputation and isolation had clearly solidified negative impressions in their minds, but overall, she was cautiously hopeful. The nobles of the eastern Emerald Seas, or at least this cross section of them, seemed better inclined toward her than most.

Soon enough, the gathering reached its end, and people began to take their leave, Ling Qi among them. She would probably be buried deep in the archive through the night, and then in the morning, she had an appointment with the arriving Bao scion. Luckily, he wanted to speak with Li Suyin as well, so she wouldn’t have to awkwardly meet him alone.

“Thoughts wandering from the trail again?” Luo Zhong’s voice shook her from her thoughts as the boy approached her, his giant hound padding at his side.

“Just considering my schedule,” Ling Qi answered. She had eased herself into being a touch more casual during the party. It made things a little easier on her frankly. “There’s hardly a moment to spare, you know?”

“I do indeed,” he replied, studying her. “You did enjoy yourself here, I hope?”

Ling Qi considered the question. There were certainly parts of the gathering which she had found disagreeable, but overall, it hadn’t been a terrible afternoon. “I am glad to have received your invitation,” she said, offering a bow.

“A somewhat vague answer,” Luo Zhong chuckled, amusement in his eyes. “In any case, you are welcome to join us again.”

“I will consider it, as time allows,” Ling Qi said. “I hope there will be less testing in the future,” she added more quietly, meeting the young man’s eyes.

His faint smile widened into an amused grin. “I have your measure now, I think. Worry not. Have a good evening, Miss Ling.”

“You as well, Sir Luo,” Ling Qi replied evenly before turning away.

Just because she had been overthinking things didn’t mean there wasn’t a game to be played. Still, she had learned a fair amount today. Most of the Luo vassals were Weilu moderates that valued the traditions of the Emerald Seas but accepted that change was inevitable, and thankfully, they were mostly neutral toward her. However, those that aligned with Imperial moderates, who valued the prosperity brought by the unified Empire, and those such as Wu Jing that aligned with Imperial conservatives, who valued obedience to the decrees of the Imperial throne, were suspicious or cold toward her. Ling Qi also got along well with Alingge, who was the only one who could be viewed as aligned with the Old Tribe faction, a group that was characterized as being heavily traditional and isolationist but generally ignored changes which did not intrude on their ways. Of course, as the only one, it was hard to read into that much.

In the end, experience was more valuable than any number of ledgers full of lineages and dry histories. She owed it to Cai Renxiang to learn the landscape of their home.

***

“Who knew that you and your family were so popular?” Ling Qi murmured in amusement as they exited the archive. After a night and morning spent amidst whispering shelves, the warmth of the noontime sun felt good. Being able to tease Sixiang back for once, on the other hand, was the best.

“I still don’t know why you took that thing,” Sixiang grumbled, making the wind kick up around Ling Qi. “I never thought I’d see someone deconstruct the idea of having a good time like it was some complicated idea.”

“It seemed like a useful area of study to me,” Ling Qi disagreed, looking out over the landscape from the top of the carven cliff the archive occupied. It had surprised her just how many arts there were that studied the nature of moon spirits as a social tool.

“Of course you would need step by step instructions and exercises for loosening up,” Sixiang huffed. “At least we’re done, right?”

Ling Qi hummed in agreement. She had found several likely arts which could improve her socializing ability. Playful Muse’s Rapport was inspired by the playful nature of the children of the Dreaming Moon, an art that focused on conveying thoughts clearly and with utmost honesty of intent. Moonless Saboteur’s Smile was inspired by the behavior of the spirits of the hidden moon in the Weilu courts, an art that subtly arranged matters to the benefit of mortals who caught their fancy.

When searching, Ling Qi also found a social art for interacting with spirits. Melodies of the Spirit Seekers had been developed in the late days of Xi’s reign and sought to deal with spirits in a way that prevented misunderstandings. It was out of fashion among the nobility of the Empire as nowadays, spirits were normally dealt with through genuflection, appeasement, or exorcism, but as Ling Qi had told the Dreaming Moon, a lot of her successes had come from coming to an accord with spirits.

Since Ling Qi had mastered the Curious Diviner’s Eye art already, she picked up two successor arts to it at the archive as well. Both successor arts had similar techniques, but Roaming Moon’s Eye focused more on information gathering in a wide area whereas Casual Diviner’s Pose focused more on combat perception.

She would decide which of the social arts and which successor art to start cultivating later. She had already planned out her cultivation for the weeks immediately ahead. Until then, she would just have to consider which of the arts fit her needs going forward.

“I suppose I should be getting down to the Sect town,” Ling Qi sighed, looking down from the clear blue sky to the green landscape below. Hopefully, the meeting with her potential Bao suitor would not be too awkward.

“Just relax,” Sixiang said, and Ling Qi felt the phantom sensation of fingers jabbing her side. “Remember not to wind yourself up. Go meet the guy, and let yourself have fun for goodness sake.”

Ling Qi irritably swatted at the air, dispersing the fragile constructs of wind Sixiang was poking her with. She knew what she had to do; that didn’t make it easier. “I know, I know,” she grumbled. “Now quit it.”

Sixiang huffed. <If you know, then quit stalling,> they challenged.

Taking only a moment to breathe, cycle her qi, and still her thoughts, Ling Qi stepped off the cliff and allowed the rush of wind past her ears to settle her nerves. A moment before she would have struck earth and branch, her winged cloak flared, and Ling Qi swooped back up, soaring toward the town.

Threads Chapter 57-Bao Qian 1

Landing outside the town’s walls, Ling Qi took a moment to smooth her gown then entered town, briskly moving through the outermost sections. It was a little ironic, Ling Qi could admit to herself, but she wasn’t doing it out of disdain, but rather because she did not want to hold on to her qi suppression so tightly for long. She soon reached the inner town where cultivators were in greater numbers. She took a moment to recall the location of her meeting and find her way to the right square. In the midst of the town’s bustle, Ling Qi saw them before she felt them.

She spied Li Suyin first, wearing that new gown of hers. The pale lilac and purple silk looked good on her, though the effect was somewhat lessened by the clawed chitin contraption she wore on her right hand. Ling Qi wondered how long it would take Xiulan to pester the other girl into adding some gemstone settings and filigree to the thing to brighten it up.

Beside Suyin, standing a little closer than Ling Qi would call polite, was a tall, thin boy. He had a handsome face and neatly kept hair bound in a top knot. That was probably this ‘Du Feng’ she had heard about from time to time. Another friend of Suyin’s.

Ling Qi found her eyes only briefly touching on him as her attention was drawn to the much louder figure standing nearby. The other young man was quite large, not quite as tall as her but very broad shouldered. He wore a robe of crimson and gold bound at the waist by a thick jeweled sash. His fingers glittered with rings of jade set with precious gems that gleamed mesmerizingly in the sun. Two bands of white jade encircled his upper arms, cinching his flowing robe around thick biceps.

The Bao scion had a broad face with pleasant, jovial features and dark brown hair bound in a simple top knot by another jeweled clasp. Really, he looked quite a lot like a more youthful version of the Bao lord she had met during the tournament at the end of last year, if one who indulged much less in food and drink. She really did wonder what had happened to Bao Qingling to differentiate herself so much from her family.

“Ah, and our last member has arrived. Welcome, Miss Ling, welcome.” LIng Qi was shaken from her thoughts as the young man turned from his conversation with Li Suyin and Du Feng to raise a jeweled hand and greet her. She met his eyes and found them sharp and appraising beneath the cheer. Bao Qian was at the formation stage of the green soul realm and was close to the next stage in spirit.

“My apologies for being late,” Ling Qi said politely as she approached, dipping her head in a small bow of contrition.

“You are nothing of the sort,” the Bao dismissed cheerfully. “I simply arrived early.”

“Yes, I had only happened to be in town, so I was early as well,” Li Suyin added politely. “Ah, Ling Qi, I do not think you have been introduced. This is Du Feng, my work partner.”

The boy sketched a polite bow as one would to a superior. “A pleasure, Miss Ling.”

“And if cousins Quan and Qingling have not deigned to share it, you may have my name as well. I am Bao Qian,” the Bao scion introduced himself with a minor bow as given between equals. “I have already heard much of you, and the tales Miss Li has told have only embellished on them.”

Ling Qi glanced at Li Suyin, who gave her a sheepish smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you both, but I have to admit, you have me at a disadvantage. The letter Bao Qingling gave to me was somewhat light on details.”

“No offense is taken,” Bao Qian replied with a smile. “We Bao are a competitive sort. The matter of who would take up the opportunity was still contested at that time.”

Ling Qi felt disconcerted at the idea that there was any competition for… whatever this was. This was not quite even a betrothal offer but just…

<Of course you’re worth it. Most talented musician in the South, luminous fairy of the winter moon, black left hand of the Cai, Best Big Sis! The name of Ling Qi rings from the mountaintops!> Sixiang announced grandly in her head.

It was a testament to her will and experience with Sixiang that her eyebrow did not so much as twitch nor did her polite smile falter. “I am flattered to be so well thought of among the Bao,” she said instead.

“There is no flattery to it, only honest praise,” he replied.

“Miss Ling is a great talent,” Du Feng agreed. “You often say such, do you not, Li Suyin?”

“She is. I could not have achieved what I have without her,” Li Suyin replied, toying with her sleeve nervously.

“I will have to accept your praise, I suppose,” Ling Qi said reluctantly. “But please, do not let me interrupt your conversation. You were speaking before I arrived, weren’t you?”

“It was only a small matter,” Li Suyin demurred.

“You are too humble, Miss Li. The joint work of you and Sir Du in refining and treating silk is a valuable enterprise. The capital is always eager for new strains. Helps them keep up the churn of fashionable one-upmanship,” Bao Qian said lightly.

“Oh, you’re working on silk now? I had not heard about that, Li Suyin,” Ling Qi said, happy to move herself out of the spotlight of attention.

“It is as much Du Feng’s effort as mine,” Li Suyin deflected. “I only had some small insights to give on influencing the development of the worms. It is he who turned the resulting silk into something of value.”

“You are too kind, Li Suyin,” Du Feng said, “but I have never had the opportunity before to work with silk as naturally impermeable and light. I feel as if I am spinning strands of air at times.”

Li Suyin flushed and fidgeted. “I am sure it is nothing that other silk-making families have not achieved already.”

“Perhaps, but another supplier is always good for the market,” Bao Qian said cheerfully. “I will be happy to do a little sales work for the two of you, if you would permit it.”

Li Suyin and Du Feng shared a brief look, and Li Suyin dipped her head, deferring to him. Ling Qi might have found that bothersome, but she knew her friend well enough to know that she really did consider it more his project than hers. So she did not say anything as Du Feng bowed low and accepted the offer.

With only a small mental nudge from Sixiang, Ling Qi made herself continue the conversation. “Is this what you will be spending your time on in the south, Sir Bao? Seeking out opportunities like this?” She had to start being a more active participant in conversations, and she would never do so if she didn’t start somewhere.

She saw a flicker of appraisal in his warm green eyes as he turned to look at her. “After a fashion. And there is no need for a Sir, Miss Ling. My name will do.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “I am only one of many sons, so I am always on the lookout for opportunity. I shall certainly wish to speak with you at some point about what might be done with that unique xuanwu of yours.”

Her eyebrows rose, but she forced herself not to give his words an uncharitable interpretation. “If you do not object, my name is fine as well,” she mirrored. It was a minor concession and one she didn’t really mind giving. “Zhengui is precious to me,” she continued, “so I have to ask that you clarify your intent, Bao Qian.”

She caught a brief flicker of genuine amusement at her little wordplay. “Nothing invasive, of course. Shed scales, claw clippings, venom, and waste product. A spirit of such potency can produce many useful things. It helps to offset their substantial upkeep.”

Ling Qi thought of the expense documentation Cai Renxiang had been teaching her to make use of and the green stones that Cai was paying out of pocket to feed Zhengui every month. It might be nice to be less reliant on her largesse. If nothing else, it might mean further resources for her to cultivate with. “I see. I have no complaints then,” she acquiesced.

“Perhaps you should seek his services in recording your music, Miss Ling. I have heard that it is incomparable for your age and talent,” Du Feng piped in. “Though you will only improve in the future, I am sure.”

<He’s trying to be helpful,> Sixiang whispered soothingly. <I think he really doesn’t want to be on your bad side. Guy has it bad.>

Ling Qi had certainly noticed the minute changes in expression from the young man. Du Feng really wanted Suyin’s approval. Her friend was all too happy to go along with overpraising her. “Your songs really are lovely. I would not mind being able to play them in my workshop.”

“I would never be so forward as to request something so personal at a first meeting,” Bao Qian said, dipping his head. “I know many musicians mislike such things. On my pride as a jade carver though, I would put my utmost into such a project to ensure quality.”

“Something for the future, perhaps,” Ling Qi said vaguely. She felt deeply uncomfortable with the idea of recording her music. Her understanding of the topic meant that every piece she played reflected some facet of herself. Having such a thing stored in jade to be viewed whenever was a strange concept to her. “You are a jade carver then?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I have some skills in the field. The Bao family’s resources are plentiful in that regard,” Bao Qian agreed. “I will be using my eye for such materials during my stay. I have a few expeditions lined up to prospect unsettled lands for jade, spirit stones, and less valuable minerals. A man must keep busy after all. No good comes from standing still.”

That was a good attitude to take. Though she could not really judge off of one meeting, her initial impression of Bao Qian was good. However, the real purpose of all this still ate at her thoughts. She had been praised and praised, and while she was certain that Li Suyin was sincere, it was wholly possible that he was just using her friend to flatter her without seemingly coming on too strong.

That was one trouble with studying social arts. It put her in the mind to scrutinize things over and over again. How much of this impression was a well arranged mask? Then again, she could drive herself mad nitpicking the meaning behind every action and choice of presentation. “That is an admirable attitude,” she praised. “I wish you luck in your pursuits.”

“In truth,” the young man said cautiously, “I am looking into such a matter nearby. I have made a contract with the Sect to investigate whether the quarries of an abandoned clanhold in the east are worth further prospecting. I have heard that you favor an adventure or two yourself, Ling Qi. Should I request you as my liaison with the Sect for this matter?” He glanced at the others. “You are invited as well, friends.”

“I am afraid I am unsuited for such matters,” Du Feng replied swiftly, only to shoot a worried look to Li Suyin. “Ah, but if you wish to go…”

Li Suyin looked uncertain, looking to Ling Qi.

Ling Qi considered. Between her cultivation, her family, and her other obligations, her time was limited. Had she been asked a week or two ago, she might have considered begging off, but given her recent resolution to improve her interactions with the rest of the nobility, it seemed foolish to refuse. She wouldn’t have accepted if it were just she and him, but since he had offered a group expedition...

“That does sound like a fun distraction. Something a little more peaceful than our usual fare, right, Li Suyin?” Ling Qi gave her friend an encouraging look.

“I would imagine so,” Li Suyin replied with a smile.

“Hoh, I sense a story there,” Bao Qian said with a chuckle. “And you, Sir Du?”

The other boy hesitated but seemed to firm up his resolve as Li Suyin turned to look at him. “Well, I would not want to be so rude as to refuse your invitation Sir Bao, so I will join you as well. I suppose giving my work a little active testing would be helpful.”

Bao Qian nodded, seeming pleased. “I shall make the arrangements with the Sect then. We will be leaving in five days time, and the journey should not be more than a few days depending on our pace.”

Ling Qi rearranged her schedule in her mind. She didn’t have much that she needed to prepare, and it wasn’t like she couldn’t cultivate on the journey as well. So she would only be using a little time out of her budget. “I will look forward to it.”

Threads 58-Bao Qian 2

The days passed quickly with Ling Qi splitting her time between home, cultivation, and time with her spirits. She spoke with her mother about the trip, and the lessening of the older woman’s worry when she spoke of going along with her friend as well as the Bao scion made her feel better about her somewhat selfish choice. Zhengui was happy to come along anywhere she went, and Hanyi was just glad to get the opportunity to get away from the mountain.

As a result, when the day of the meeting came, she was actually the first to reach their departure point since it was not far from the hill set aside for Zhengui. Of course, while she was glad that her spirits were eager, there were definitely some downsides to this.

“So, how cute is this Bao guy anyway, Big Sis?” Hanyi chirped cheerfully. She sat on the outer ridge of Zhengui’s shell, idly kicking her bare feet.

“It isn’t really appropriate to talk about that kind of thing when we’re in company, Hanyi,” Ling Qi replied tiredly, deflecting the question as she had numerous other inquiries of similar quality.

“Which is why I’m asking before they get here,” Hanyi complained, giving her a pout. “C’mooooon, just tell me.”

“Hanyi should stop pestering Big Sister,” Gui said gamely, his voice rumbling up from beneath them.

“Who asked you?” Hanyi retorted, thumping her fist on the back of his shell. “Zhen, you’re curious too, right?”

“I, Zhen, am only concerned over whether the Bao man needs biting or not,” her little brother’s serpentine hissed imperiously.

“Please don’t,” Ling Qi said flatly, tilting her head to give him a reproving look. “Hanyi, we’re just doing business. There’s no reason to worry about things like that.”

“If you’re gonna think like that, there won’t be,” Hanyi huffed, crossing her arms. “Big Sis lets opportunities pass too easily! You’re gonna end up like Miss Qingshe with just this big doofy son to keep you company.”

“Where in the world did that girl learn such sass from?” Sixiang chuckled.

Ling Qi thought that she would be doing quite well to end up like Qingshe, the powerful sixth realm and mother to the river dragon Heizui she had challenged last year. “Just be good, Hanyi. I can sense him approaching, so you can judge for yourself in a moment.”

Hanyi swatted away her hand as Ling Qi tousled her hair and stuck out her tongue one last time before putting on a more dignified expression. Let it not be said that Hanyi had not grown up at least a little. She could be serious if she knew it was important to Ling Qi.

Bao Qian emerged into the artificial clearing that Zhengui had made for them only a few minutes later. His eyes were on the ground, examining the churned soil and fragments of wood, charcoal, and ash left behind from Zhengui’s little snack. He looked much the same as he had at their previous meeting, save for the rather massive pack hefted onto his broad shoulders. He was also not alone. At his side trundled a spirit beast with a rather potent aura.

It, or rather she from the feel of things, took the shape of a badger and stood about a meter and a half high at the shoulder. The spirit beast’s thick fur had a shimmering, metallic look to it, silver and black gleaming in the early morning light. Its claws, a sharp black diamond, looked much like the ones Shen Hu generated in a fight. The beast regarded her steadily with bright red eyes, and she felt the tingle of assessing qi pass over her as it did. The badger let out a low whuffing sound and nudged its shoulder against Bao Qian’s side, causing his gaze to snap up from the ground.

“Ah, Miss Ling! Ready bright and early, I see,” he greeted cheerfully, rolling his shoulders to adjust his pack. “And these must be your spirit companions.”

“This is Zhengui, and next to me is Hanyi,” Ling Qi introduced, gesturing to each of them in turn. “You brought a companion as well.”

“So I did,” Bao Qian said agreeably. “Say hello, Yinshi.”

“‘Lo,” the beast said disinterestedly, pawing at the soil. Her diamond claws sliced through broken fragments of wood and plant matter as if they weren’t there, stirring the soil.

“Hiya!” Hanyi greeted cutely, giving Bao Qian an obvious assessing look.

“Hello!” Gui greeted with some cheer, poking his head out of his shell to look down at them. “I’m sorry if you were hungry too! I already finished eating.”

The badger looked from the soil and snorted. “Not a problem, kid.”

“We are not a ‘kid.’ We are Zhengui,” Zhen hissed proudly.

The smaller spirit beast met Zhen’s imperious gaze and pawed casually at her snout, brushing a streak of ash from her gleaming fur. “You sure are,” she said blandly.

Zhen narrowed his eyes, trying to work out if he had been insulted, and Ling Qi rested a quieting hand on his scales. “Is there something interesting about the ground around these parts?” she asked, steering the conversation away from the potential disagreement.

“It’s because Gui is such a messy eater,” Hanyi sniffed daintily. “He should clean up better.”

“I simply noticed a change in soil quality when we neared this place,” Bao Qian cut in. “I was distracted in my approach, so I will apologize.”

“It’s nothing. I was just curious about what had drawn your attention,” Ling Qi replied.

“Your companion seems to have a highly vitalizing effect on the earth. It is one of the things I suspected could be turned to a profit about you, and it seems I was correct. If the effect can be distilled, we will have a tidy seed business on our hands,” Bao Qian explained.

“Is that so,” Ling Qi said, not quite sure she liked how he had put that.

<Don’t jump to conclusions now,> Sixiang warned.

“Oh yes,” Bao Qian continued. He didn’t miss a beat, but she could tell that he had noticed the cooling of her tone. “One way or another, I shall be staying in the south, and I hope that we can establish a mutually profitable friendship.”

Ling Qi could read between the lines of his words well enough. She allowed herself to relax fractionally. It was remarkably blunt for how such things went, but if that was how he wished to approach things, she wouldn’t complain. As she opened her mouth to respond, she sensed Li Suyin approaching. Peering through the trees, she spied her friend, and her expression turned dull.

Li Suyin sat in the shade of a covered sedan chair. Carved from deep red wood, it was open in the front with an awning of white silk jutting out of the front. The whole thing was born upon the shoulders of her skeletal guardians. Bear and boar had both received a serious overhaul since she had seen them last. The spider silk wrapping them was now stretched over something, giving them the impression of moving musculature, and their empty eye sockets had been fitted with fiery rubies that glowed with inner light. Their metal armor had been replaced with plates of thick spiky black chitin inlaid with etchings of powdered jade that glowed with qi.

“Li Suyin,” Ling Qi sighed aloud despite herself. That girl. She had to know what she looked like, right?

“I see cousin Qingling has had quite an influence,” Bao Qian said a touch blandly as he followed her gaze.

She almost missed Du Feng floating at Suyin’s side, seated upon a colorfully woven carpet that hovered about a meter above the ground. Ling Qi vaguely recalled seeing a flying carpet at the crafting competition last year; so Du Feng was that crafter. He was seemingly unbothered by the macabre trappings of Suyin’s conveyance or at least he was very good at hiding it if he was.

“What are you two talking about?” Hanyi asked, clearly displeased to be left out of the conversation.

“Big Sister’s friend is almost here. Hanyi would know if she paid attention,” Gui said smugly as he stood up, dust and ash raining down from the bottom of his shell as he lifted himself from the ground.

Hanyi shot him a dirty look but didn’t reply. Ling Qi let herself glance at her spirits in amusement before returning her attention to Bao Qian. “How did she end up so different from the rest of you anyway?”

“I’ll not air my cousin’s secrets,” he replied. The debris raised by Zhengui’s movement flowed around him and his spirit as if they were surrounded by an invisible barrier. “Rough mien or no, cousin Qingling is still a Bao in heart and spirit.”

Ling Qi hummed to herself and dipped her head. “That was a rude question. My apologies.” It had been too off the cuff; she was still working on balancing formality and casualness.

“I’ll not take offense if you forgive me for the slight I gave earlier,” he said cheerfully. “Do we have a bargain?”

“I suppose so,” Ling Qi replied, bemused.

Their conversation went no further as Li Suyin and Du Feng arrived on their conveyances.

“Good day, Miss Li, Sir Du!” Bao Qian called, raising his hand to wave as they entered the clearing. Ling Qi smiled and raised a hand to wave to her friend.

“Hello, Sir Bao, Ling Qi,” Li Suyin greeted, leaning forward in the padded chair held aloft by her guardians. “I hope my preparations will be sufficient to keep up on the journey ahead.”

“You should not underestimate your designs so, Li Suyin,” Du Feng said.

“Don’t worry. We’re hardly in a hurry here,” Ling Qi reassured her, even as Hanyi nudged her in the side with her elbow.

“How come we don’t have comfy seats?” Hanyi asked quietly.

“Zhengui’s shell is good enough for both of us,” Ling Qi chided, turning her attention back to the others.

“... the porters you have here. I hope you are not going through too much expense to keep them powered during the trip,” Bao Qian addressed Li Suyin.

“Oh no, please do not concern yourself,” Li Suyin reassured him. “I am powering these two through my own qi right now. Unless we have to fight, it will be fine.”

“Well, if that’s so, there is no problem,” Bao Qian chuckled. “Still, these are impressive constructs. Do you still work with such things, Miss Ling? I seem to recall hearing that you made use of something similar in your tournament matches.”

“Ling Qi is quite skilled at formations when she applies herself,” Li Suyin said, giving her an encouraging smile. “She picks up the principles very easily compared to myself.”

<So much for using her to deflect attention, huh?> Sixiang mused.

“It is nothing so great,” Ling Qi said hastily. “It was only Li Suyin’s help that allowed me to make something so useful. Formation crafting is something I am only an amateur in. I have not had the time to tinker with it at all since the tournament.”

“Even so, it is quite a skill to develop such a thing after only a year of work. It would be a shame to let such a talent wither on the vine,” Bao Qian said.

“You praise me too much,” Ling Qi demurred. “Perhaps when I have settled other matters. Ah, actually, what you have is pretty impressive as well, Du Feng. Flight is very difficult below the fourth realm, is it not?”

Du Feng looked surprised at her swift change of subject and compliment. “No, I cannot claim such a feat, Miss Ling,” he replied. “While I am proud of my work, it is not a true flight. The carpet can only hover and move in relation to the ground. It cannot rise any higher than this or maneuver in three dimensions as your dress can.”

“You are too hard on yourself, Sir Du,” Bao Qian said. “As you mentioned to Li Suyin, you should not downplay your talents so easily as well.”

“Are we going to go soon?” Zhen asked, a bit of childish boredom audible in his tone. “Lazy Gui will fall asleep soon, I think.”

“I am not sleepy. Do not use me as an excuse,” Gui complained.

“I agree with the kid. Too much word grooming going on,” Bao Qian’s own beast grumbled. “Walk and talk.”

She almost missed the grimace and look of long suffering Bao Qian shot at his spirit beast in the moment before he clapped his hands. “A fair point. Shall we be off then?”

Despite the awkward moment, they were soon off.

Unlike Bao Qian and herself, Li Suyin and Du Feng did not have any spirit beasts along. Suyin’s Zhenli was staying at her workshop to oversee projects and Du Feng had not bound one. Ling Qi remained atop Zhengui’s shell, seated just behind his head while Bao Qian joined the others in using a talisman for conveyance, a conical platform a meter across at its base seemingly carved from a single piece of dark forest green jade. His spirit beast Linshi slipped into the earth like a fish into water and remained visible only through occasional ripples in the dirt as they travelled.

Conversation continued as they went. For her part, Ling Qi tried to steer the conversation toward Zhengui and matters of profit. She wanted to learn more about Bao Qian’s intentions and plans in the south.

Threads 59-Bao Qian 3

“So, with the correct arts and knowledge, metals and minerals can be induced to grow, restoring themselves in a time useful to humans,” Bao Qian explained.

They had been traveling for some time and at last, polite small talk had turned into something a little more interesting, that is, a discussion of why they were out here and what Bao Qian was doing.

“Secret family arts, I assume,” Ling Qi pointed out shrewdly.

“Of course,” Bao Qian chuckled. “We are not the only ones in the Empire with such arts, but there are not many. The methods do have their downsides. One must accept a sharp reduction in immediate productivity to use the Bao methods, and many prefer to go without and simply create new sites when old ones run dry. There are always more lands to exploit after all, or so the logic goes.”

“That was the reasoning behind the Hui settlement programs, if I recall,” Li Suyin said from atop her sedan.

“Right you are, Miss Li. For all that the maps have said that the borders have been the same since the usurpation, the reality is that the south was nigh unsettled. Of course, the Hui were just using it as a distraction to get their vassals out of court, so things were… not very well organized.”

“It was a chaotic and lawless period,” Du Feng put forward cautiously. “But many made their fortunes during that era. Many towns and cities were settled in those days.”

“And many more fell, even before Ogodei smashed things, and much of the later trouble arose from it,” Bao Qian said with a shrug. “A stable and well organized investment is superior to territorial knife fighting.”

“I would have thought you were more the type for risky ventures,” Ling Qi said innocently.

“There is a difference between personal risk and that sort of thing,” Bao Qian clarified. “It is admirable to have the right instinct for risk.”

“I suppose so,” Ling Qi allowed.

“Sis is weird about when she’ll do risky things,” Hanyi commented idly. Ling Qi shot her a look, and Hanyi stuck out her tongue.

“Ling Qi rarely overestimates herself,” Li Suyin put in, giving her a tentative smile.

Ling Qi was not so sure of that, but she was hardly going to say so. It only took one misstep for things to go awfully. She had been lucky the consequences had been so light so far.

<You took your lumps, but you won’t mess up like that in the material world. But not the time to get lost in your thoughts though,> Sixiang whispered.

“I have been very fortunate,” Ling Qi said aloud, politely dismissing Li Suyin’s praise. “Still, I would be interested to hear more about why you regard your time in the south as a stable investment.”

“Duchess Cai is a very thorough woman. Some might say implacable even,” Bao Qian elaborated, stroking his chin. “In recent decades, investment in the south of the province has only grown. New villages are seeing construction quite regularly, and if I can establish myself well, it should not be hard to make my fortune on prospecting contracts amidst the foothills of the Wall.”

“I had thought the Bao did not have much interest in expansion,” Ling Qi commented.

“Filling in what you already own is hardly expansion,” he shot back. “We merely think it foolish to grab at more when what we already have is so sparsely used.”

“A fair assessment, Sir Bao. Some of our peers are a bit too bloodthirsty, I think,” Du Feng agreed.

“It is more a matter of glory than blood,” Li Suyin said quietly, the talons of her glove clicking against the arm of her charm.

Ling Qi thought Li Suyin had the right of it. While she was hardly a master of imperial politics, even she could see that martial achievements seemed more valued than any others.

“Well, duh. Killing enemies is way cooler than digging up rocks or building stuff,” Hanyi said imperiously. “People don’t write songs about that kind of thing.”

“You should visit our clan hall then, young spirit,” Bao Qian said with a touch of amusement, “and listen to a rendition of the ballad our esteemed founder composed to court the Lady of Subterranean Wonders.”

“Hanyi should just try to get into less trouble, instead of picking fights,” Gui said.

“I think both pieces of advice might be useful,” Ling Qi said dryly. “That aside, I was more curious about your intentions toward my little brother, Bao Qian.”

“What phrasing,” he chuckled. “I would think it obvious. The xuan wu of the Savage Seas are the source of the vast wealth that allows the Xuan to function as a province despite their meagre lands. The legendary xuan wu are said to emanate vitality such that the seas teem with fish, and the mere silt churned by their feet can make even the poorest soil flourish.”

Ling Qi was aware of those stories - she had studied xuan wu - but she was looking for a more concrete answer. “My Zhengui is not the normal sort of xuan wu though,” she pointed out, patting his shell. “You wouldn’t catch him trying to go for a swim any time soon.”

<Maybe if Lady Cui asked,> she caught the whisper of Zhen’s thoughts and restrained the urge to laugh. Poor Zhen.

“That hardly dampens my enthusiasm. It merely means that you have a wholly unique source of resources.” Bao Qian paused, holding up a hand to forestall her response. “I do not mean any offense in that. Just as you might charge a great deal to perform your songs at a noble gala, so, too, could your Zhengui charge a high price merely to stomp about a barony or viscounty’s fields in the fallow season or simply sell the ash he leaves behind in his wake.”

She took his point well enough, and she did not allow herself to be offended this time. “And you wish to get a cut of that potential wealth.”

“I do,” he agreed. “Though I like to think that my services as a salesman equal the value of my requested share.”

Ling Qi hummed to herself. Li Suyin and Du Feng had withdrawn from the conversation for the moment, letting the two of them speak, but there was another person who should be involved here. “Zhengui, what do you think?”

“Gui would be happy to help Big Sister,” the tortoise below her chirped, though his size made it more of a rumble.

Zhen was more reserved, his tongue flicking through the air. “I, Zhen, do not like making Big Sister rely on others to care for him. If I can earn my own keep, I would do so.”

“A dutiful fellow indeed,” Bao Qian chuckled. “It seems you have raised him well.”

“I would not claim too much credit,” Ling Qi said distractedly, even as she communicated with Zhengui on a deeper level. She did not often think about their connection these days as Zhengui was grown enough that it felt uncomfortable to intrude on his mental privacy too much, but he was eager about the idea. He wanted to help her, wanted to contribute and not drag her down. Her little brother’s pride, embodied by Zhen, was a much more fragile thing than it seemed. Absently, she reached up to rest a hand on his warm scales.

“I will speak about this with the Sect and study their observations,” Ling Qi finally replied. She would get the Sect’s reports on the effects and potential value before making any negotiations, but she would probably go forward with a deal at some point. She did have to think of her future beyond the Sect.

“I will await your decision eagerly,” Bao Qian replied, offering a half bow from his seat.

<What is your impression of him, Sixiang?> Ling Qi asked as she watched Bao Qian pivot easily into a conversation with Li Suyin and Du Feng regarding their projects. It was difficult to dislike him, but for just that reason, she found herself unable to dismiss a faint feeling of distrust and suspicion. It had ever been her experience that those who seemed the most trustworthy were often the least. On the other hand, had Cai Renxiang not proven that wrong at least in one case?

<He’s too far above me to read with total certainty,> Sixiang admitted. <He’s ambitious, and I don’t think he’s putting on a mask. He really is a cheerful, gregarious type. I think he’s unsure how to handle you though. You can see it here and there, little pauses for thought. He’s trying not to scare you off, and it’s throwing him off his game. Thinks you’re a bit like an easily startled colt.>

Ling Qi didn’t care much for that description, but she knew Sixiang had felt her desire for sincerity and frankness. <And the rest?>

<I don’t really get all of your human money nonsense,> Sixiang huffed. <But I’m not really seeing any downsides to carting off the Little Big Guy’s poop if it gets you more rocks and drugs. Consider it a test case since there’s nothin’ to lose for you or your bro.>

Ling Qi’s eyebrow twitched violently, but she put on a smile when Li Suyin shot her a concerned look. <Did you have to put it like that?> she thought irritably.

<Absolutely,> Sixiang replied smugly. <Now relax already. You’re winding yourself up again.>

She was, Ling Qi realized. It seemed that she still needed more practice when it came to this kind of thing, especially when there was no need to be. With Li Suyin and her spirits here, she was surrounded by friends and allies. She needed to act like it.

The rest of the trip out passed without incident. Their little caravan represented enough concentrated strength that no beasts or spirits pestered them, and the conversation was pleasant enough. Li Suyin and Du Feng were both prone to rambling about their work with only a little prompting, filling silence that would otherwise be awkward. Between Du Feng’s talks of cloth and cuts and designs and the increasing gleam in Hanyi’s eye, she had a feeling there was going to be future trouble brewing. She had mostly avoided letting Hanyi and Xiulan interact for a reason, but a terrible seed had been planted anyway.

At least if things went through with Zhengui, perhaps she could even afford indulging Hanyi’s desires.

The site itself was hardly impressive. Indeed, if Bao Qian had not stopped them, she would have kept right on walking without even noticing it.

“Is this really it?” Ling Qi asked, surveying the open, weed-filled field. She supposed the sparse trees scattered about were younger than most of the growth in this area.

“If you look closely, you can still see the contours of the manor’s foundations,” Bao Qian replied. She followed the direction his hand was pointed in, and she did note a certain unnatural regularity in the stone.

“What is the plan now that we are here then?” Du Feng asked, his floating carpet slowly sinking low enough that he could swing his legs off of it and stand.

“We search out the quarry in question, and then let me get to business,” Bao Qian announced cheerfully. “Shouldn’t be more than a few hours work.”

“Hmm, I will release some scouting constructs,” Li Suyin mused as her skeletal porters set down her chair.

“And I can search from the air,” Ling Qi said. Her Curious Diviner’s Eye art would help, letting her expand and enhance her field of vision.

“I will help with roots!” Gui announced, digging his tubby claws into the earth.

“I’ll just ride with Big Sis and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble,” Hanyi said. Ling Qi knew she just wanted an airborne piggy back ride though.

“... I suppose I shall handle refreshments then,” Du Feng said ruefully. “I hope everyone can be satisfied with mulberry tea.”

“Splendid. Let us get on with it then,” Bao Qian chuckled. “I am sure that we will be done in no time.”

As Ling Qi soared into the air with Hanyi perched on her shoulders, she couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t so bad. While she couldn’t say whether she really cared for Bao Qian or not yet, she was willing to get to know him. There was no hurry, at least in this matter, after all.

Threads 60-Bao Qian 4

There was no hurry in her search so when Ling Qi took to the air, she flew at a lazy pace, rising up past the tree tops with the hems of her gown gently fluttering in the wind. Soaring up into the sky, she took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the wind on her face and the sound of Hanyi’s joyous laughter in her ears. The young spirit was light on her shoulders, a far cry from the immense weight she had carried the last time they had done this.

Glancing back, she took in her companions. Li Suyin and Du Feng had produced camp chairs and other sundries from somewhere, and she could feel the heat of boiling waters. Bao Qian had gone off with his own spirit to walk around the ruined foundations. He looked up as her gaze passed over him and waved. Zhengui, on the other hand, was still, but she could feel his qi beneath the earth, spreading through the root network of the nearby trees.

“C’moooon, don’t stop,” Hanyi complained. “Let’s fly!”

“You’ve gotten so impatient,” Ling Qi laughed. “But fine, if that’s what you want.”

Yes, she should definitely take the lessons of the last few weeks to heart and simply relax. With that in mind, Ling Qi tried not to laugh out loud as she darted forward, spinning in the air and drawing a startled shriek from Hanyi. In her thoughts, Sixiang laughed enough for the both of them. Taking off into the clear blue sky, Ling Qi began her search.

It made for a relaxing afternoon. The region they were in was thickly forested but comparatively flat, so from above the trees, it almost seemed like an unbroken carpet of greenery. Faeries of wind and water fluttered and danced through the air around her, barely visible wisps even to her sharp eyes. Below, the spirits of wood and earth lurked among the branches and leaves, following their own slow paced and inscrutable whims.

She saw and felt the passage of many beasts below her, but none dared challenge her path. Some hid or fled from her while others ignored her entirely. Her search was entirely peaceful and almost dull, or it would have been if she were alone. Hanyi was not one to let silence linger, ironically enough.

“So, what do you think of that Bao guy, Big Sis?” Hanyi chirped. “He seems kinda boring to me, but I think he likes you!”

“I would doubt the Bao clan’s competence if they sent someone who couldn’t give that impression,” Ling Qi replied dryly as they flew lazily over a babbling brook. Spotting the faintest hints of gravel and a regular path marking some remnant of civilization, Ling Qi shifted her course, following its direction.

“Ugh, you’re no fun sometimes,” Hanyi complained. “And you better not spin me again ‘cause I said that!”

Ling Qi hid her smile behind her sleeve, innocently pretending that she hadn’t considered doing just that. “Why so interested? Usually, I have to fight to get you to pay other people any mind.”

“Hmph, I’m trying to follow your advice!” Hanyi huffed, tightly gripping Ling Qi’s shoulders as she banked sharply in the air to follow the curve of the old road. “I guess I’m worried about you, Big Sis.”

Ling Qi glanced over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I’m doing fine.”

Hanyi pouted back at her. “Big Sis takes care of me when I get sad or worried or whatever, so I just thought that you needed someone who could do the same for you.”

<Hmm. Maybe I don’t give the squirt enough credit,> Sixiang mused.

<Hush,> Ling Qi thought back at Sixiang. “I can handle myself, Hanyi,” she said aloud. “That’s not something you need to worry about. Besides, why would you latch on to a stranger for that?”

“Well, he wants to marry you, right?” Hanyi asked innocently. “He just can’t say so ‘cause of weird human things. Husbands and wives are supposed to take care of each other and make each other happy!”

Ling Qi wasn’t even sure where to start. It made her wonder just what things had been like in Zeqing’s household given what she had seen of her mentor’s husband. It wasn’t like she was going to bring that up to Hanyi though.

Sixiang made a sound like a person sucking in air through their teeth in her thoughts. <Yeah, that’s prolly not an explosive you wanna poke.>

“I appreciate your concern, Hanyi, but things don’t quite work like that,” Ling Qi finally said. “Bao Qian is just here to work out some business. Anything else is a consideration for a long time in the future.”

“If you say so,” Hanyi said dubiously. “Big Sis is weird sometimes,” she muttered.

“Ah, I see something ahead!” Ling Qi announced, pleased to have a distraction from this uncomfortable conversation.

Up ahead, the canopy changed. There were wide gaps, and the trees seemed to grow in an oddly regular pattern. As she grew closer, she found herself looking at a badly overgrown grid of what could only have been streets across a sprawling section of the forest. The paving stones were long gone, but she could sense the lingering qi of the builders in the dirt, suppressing the growth of plants through the packed dirt. Dotted all through the streets were deep and regular holes; she assumed they were the partially collapsed remains of cellars and such.

Yet there were no other ruins. A deep trench ran around the site, and its nature was only made clear by a handful of foundation stones for the settlement’s wall she saw scattered about. There was no other wreckage to be seen.

“This must have been the main settlement.” It was certainly big enough. “Did all the materials get carted off though? If the Sect did that, why did we have to search?”

“Oh, I know this one!” Hanyi announced excitedly. “Momma told me a story once that when the big storm came north, it was so big and so strong that it sucked all the trees and little houses and walls and people right up into the sky, and it rained rocks and wood and frozen bits for a week after!”

Memories bubbled up, and she recalled Elder Jiao’s trial last year. She remembered ushering people away from a besieged city and the sight of a vast wind funnel descending upon the settlement. That put Hanyi’s story in context. She probably should have expected something like this then given that she knew they were looking for a site destroyed during the invasion.

Morbidly curious, Ling Qi banked in the air, flying over the ruined site. It was possible she would find another road going out to the quarry they were looking for. There was little to find however. Only the lingering work of the old settlement’s road builders on the earth had kept the site recognizable as anything but an oddly pitted field. There was nothing here; the paths leaving the settlement swiftly faded beyond even her ability to perceive. Having searched the settlement thoroughly, Ling Qi rose back to a higher altitude and began to fly back. She may as well report what she had found.

Returning to the clearing they had started in, she descended from the sky to find Li Suyin and Du Feng chatting amicably over tea and Zhengui off to one side, feasting on a fallen log.

“Big Sister!” Zhen greeted as he spotted her descent, drawing everyone’s attention. “I, Zhen, have succeeded in our task!”

“I did all the work,” Gui grumbled through a mouthful of bark and softwood. “But kind, humble Gui will let bragging Zhen take credit.”

It looked like her own search had been unnecessary. “Good job, little brother. How did you do it?” Ling Qi asked as she descended.

“I, Zhen, was able to perceive the big holes that were dug by the gaps in the roots,” Zhen said proudly. “The jewel man and his fuzzball were able to search the quarry out with Zhen’s instruction.”

Ling Qi rested a hand on the giant serpent’s smoking scales with a sigh. “Please refer to people properly, Zhengui. Still, I am proud of you.”

“I guess Zhengui can be useful when he’s not stuffing his face,” Hanyi teased.

Zhengui preened under her praise as she descended to the ground. She hadn’t found anything herself, but that was fine. Her little brother needed more successes under his figurative belt. After Hanyi had hopped down from her shoulders, she accepted a cup of tea from Du Feng with a polite smile and sat down in one of the camp chairs to drink. The tea was a bit bitter for her taste, but she hardly minded.

She spent the rest of the time chatting with Li Suyin and her friend. Teasing Suyin about her physical cultivation was fun, but the girl was working hard to prepare herself for that breakthrough as well, stockpiling medicines and getting projects into stable states. She deflected Li Suyin’s questions of concern regarding her own workload. She was still doing fine and advancing acceptably.

Du Feng’s eagerness to ingratiate himself to her put her off a bit, but she found the boy sincere, if somewhat foppish. It helped that Sixiang agreed with her assessment. She wished him luck on his own breakthroughs in the coming months regardless.

Soon enough, Bao Qian returned from his task looking pleased. It seemed that the jade quarry was in a recoverable state after all. After a bit more tea and relaxation, they were soon ready to begin heading back. However, as she began to make her way over to Zhengui to hop onto his shell, she found herself called back.

“Miss Ling, might I speak with you for a moment?” Bao Qian asked, standing back from the others.

She glanced around. Suyin and Du Feng were a short distance away, packing up the camp furniture and tea set, and her own spirits, aside from Sixiang of course, were a short distance away, bickering and talking back and forth.

<I’ve always got your back,> Sixiaing chuckled.

“I don’t mind, Sir Bao,” Ling Qi replied aloud. “Is there some problem?”

The young man regarded her thoughtfully, his arms crossed loosely over his broad chest. “I would not necessarily call it such. However, I am told that you appreciate a certain degree of bluntness, so perhaps I should just state my thoughts.”

Ling Qi’s eyebrows rose. “If that is what you wish,” she said noncommittally.

He let out an amused chuckle. “I find you difficult to approach. At times, you seem terribly skittish, and at other times, quite confrontational. It is a bit confusing,” he admitted frankly.

“Is that so,” Ling Qi said, keeping her expression blank.

“I won’t ask you to not take offense,” Bao Qian continued cheerfully. “My, this is an interesting challenge.”

“I am glad I can entertain you,” Ling Qi said blandly.

“Yes, I think I like your confrontational side considerably more.” Bao Qian offered a brief, low bow. “Miss Ling, I am an ambitious man. I will be honest, matters of marriage are a distant concern. There are far too many things that I need to do yet before settling is an option, cultivation not the least of them.”

“I could say the same,” Ling Qi agreed carefully. “Why, then, did you come here?”

“For the reasons I have stated. There is opportunity in the south, opportunity in you,” he replied without a hint of shame. “We Bao have a nose for investments. I think you are a good ally and contact to make. You, in turn, need to expand your connections among the Emerald Seas, and there are few better than the Bao for that. Even those crotchety swamp hermits out west grudgingly deal with us.”

“You’re not wrong,” Ling Qi admitted, giving him an assessing look. “So the marriage pursuit is just a cover?”

“Not at all. You are lovely, talented, and ambitious. You are a musician of unmatched skill for your age as well as a fierce and canny duelist. Let the old birds at court cluck their tongues about your origins. I am pleased by what I see.”

Ling Qi stared, her thoughts briefly grinding to a halt; only a sharp prod from Sixiang got her mind moving again. “And if I cannot say the same of you?”

He laughed. “Then I would hope that you will look into my history as I have yours in the future and pay a mind to my accomplishments in the coming years.”

“You are awfully confident,” Ling Qi said dryly.

“I am a Bao. It is in the blood,” he replied. “But all this aside, I do hope we can work together for our mutual prosperity in the future. Even with the support of the Cai, raising a new house is difficult.”

“And that is what I do not understand,” Ling Qi said, frustrated. “Many sons or no, you are the scion of a comital clan. Why put yourself in such a difficult position?”

“Bah, what good is inheritance alone?” Bao Qian dismissed. “Let my brothers and sisters squabble over my father’s and mother’s great works. I have the blood in my veins, and the arts of our archives. My advantages are already vast; I neither want or need anything else. I will make my own fortune and my own great works.”

Ling Qi met and held his gaze, searching for sincerity in his eyes. It was such a weird mindset that she had trouble grasping it. “Alright, I’ll believe that,” Ling Qi said after a moment. “If you just want to work together, that is fine.” She could think about the rest at a later date.

“That is all I ask for now,” he said graciously. “But we should not hold up our companions any longer.”

Ling Qi nodded, turning away, looking to where Li Suyin and Du Feng waited. She still wasn’t sure what she thought of Bao Qian, but she needed more resources. She would always need more resources if she wanted to climb to the impossible heights that people like Cai Shenhua had. Having someone around who could help her acquire them could only be helpful.

Interlude: Outer Sect

“Your support was invaluable as always, Miss Ma.”

“You really are too kind, Sir Gun,” Ma Jun replied, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers. Gun Jun, Lord Gan’s second, was very handsome; it was difficult to look him in the eye from so close. “I am but a poor replacement for Lady Ling.”

Walking beside her under the dappled light that fell through the canopy of the trees, Gun Jun shook his head. “You do yourself a disservice, Miss Jun. Lady Ling was admirable in many ways, but your melodies bolster a warrior's heart like no other.” He turned his head to look at her, and Ma Jun felt her cheeks grow warm at the honest concern in his eyes. Dressed in robes of pale green rather than his armor, he looked very much the gentleman. “You are truly well, I hope? I saw the stray bolt which reached you.”

Ma Jun shook her head in denial, pulling her eyes away from his face. She fussed with her pale grey gown, feeling flustered more than ever at the plain simplicity of it. Even now, she looked like a plain provincial bumpkin. “I am, Sir Gun. Please do not worry yourself. I did not neglect my defenses.”

“It is a bit shameful that you needed them.” Gun Jun seemed dissatisfied. “I will do better next time.”

Ma Jun looked down. “I thought that Sir Gun did very well.”

It had been the biggest clash that had taken place yet in the year. Resources for second year students were scarce. The sites upon the mountain were barred to them, leaving them to range further and face more challenging foes if they wished to maintain their cultivation. But Lord Gan had led them well and helped them all secure potent cultivation resources.

Naturally, their enemies sought to take those resources for themselves. Between Lord Lu and Lord Gan, the lines of control over the cultivation sites and hunting grounds of the Outer Sect were constantly shifting.

“Now it is you who is too kind. If I had not been so impetuous, we would not have been flanked so badly,” he said, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “It was only by the caprice of that Xiao Fen that we were able to hold the field.”

Ma Jun shivered. Xiao Fen was a frightening girl and made no effort to be less frightening to her allies. She could still remember the time that she had seen the girl entering the Medicine Hall wearing a horrible, empty expression after an ambush, an arrow in her back, cuts and bruises on her face and limbs, and a spearhead in her shoulder. Her attackers had been so much worse off. Yesterday, she had come out of nowhere and blunted the attack of an entire squad of the enemy forces for long enough that Lord Gan’s forces could regroup.

Her sister was braver than her to keep approaching that girl. Honestly, how she could be friends with someone who so regularly left her with fractured bones was beyond her. But then again, Ma Lei had always been one to dive headfirst into thorns and thistles. “It is good that Miss Xiao is on our side.”

“... Yes,” Gun Jun said after a moment, and an awkward silence fell, the earlier atmosphere dispelled as they both contemplated the battle. Soon, they arrived at their destination, a partial clearing in the forest where mossy stones of ancient Weilu construction poked through the earth. The potency of the qi which hung in the air spoke of the power that still dwelled here.

As they passed through the crumbling archway that marked the entrance, Gun Jun straightened his shoulders. “Nonetheless, Miss Ma, you were most impressive yesterday, keeping us bolstered long enough for Lord Gan to arrive. I cannot thank you enough.”

“It was only my duty, and Sir Gun’s leadership was invaluable,” Ma Jun replied quickly, her ill thoughts blowing away under the gust that was his earnest smile. “But I will accept your thanks.”

“Miss Ma’s modesty is admirable,” he replied as they moved deeper into the ruined complex, seeking the pool where a spark of sunlight slept. “I had heard that you were attempting a breakthrough again?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I was not successful,” she murmured. She had tried again and again, but her only reward had been pain. It was hard not to become discouraged.

But Ma Jun did not intend to give up. Father had worked so hard, exhausting himself to afford the Sect’s tuition. Her older brother was crippled by service in their lord's army, and her mother had never recovered fully from the red lung plague. She would break through before seventeen and receive an imperial writ. She would be able to support them.

It was possible. Lady Ling proved that.

“I believe you will succeed.” She was startled out of her thoughts by the feeling of Gun Jun’s larger calloused hand on her own. W-when had he stepped so close?! Ma Jun felt like her cheeks were on fire as she looked up at him. She couldn’t bring herself to snatch her hand away. B-but this was definitely improper!

“I- Um, I wish you success as well, Sir Gun. I’m sure you will reach the third realm,” Ma Jun stammered.

He laughed. “I certainly hope so. I will have to try not to disappoint you. Miss Jun… No, may I call you Ma Jun?”

He was still holding her hand, and it was growing increasingly difficult to speak, so she nodded dumbly.

Gun Jun smiled. “Then, Ma Jun, once our duties and cultivation are complete, would you like to-”

His words were cut off as a faint whistling sound echoed through the sky, and his head jerked upward toward the sudden intruding presence. In an instant, she felt his qi rising as he interposed himself between her and the descending missile. Ma Jun hastily expressed her zither, a song rising to her lips.

There was a thunderous boom, drowned out by an even more thunderous voice.

“Ho, comrades! I did not think you would have wandered so far afield today!” Lord Gan’s voice echoed through the formerly silent ruin with the force of an explosion as he stepped out of the smoke that rose from his impact point.

Ma Jun stared at him, an indefinable feeling swelling in her chest.

Gun Jun, looking mortified, took a rapid step away from her, opening up the distance between them to something more respectable. “M-my apologies, Lord Gan. It was I who invited Miss Ma out for a stroll. If I had known that we were needed, I -”

Gan Guangli let out a booming laugh and waved his hand in dismissal. “Nay, it is not duty which brings me here, but good news! I wanted to inform the two of you immediately!”

Ma Jun felt her eyebrow twitch and her hand clench. It was definitely wrong to be angry at Lord Gan, but couldn’t he have… Couldn’t he have waited just a few more minutes?!

Even Gun Jun seemed a little taken aback. “I see, Lord Gan. What is the news?”

“Thanks to my lady’s support and everyone's efforts in harvesting our holdings, I have secured the services of a professional alchemist from the Wang clan’s subordinates,” Gan Guangli announced proudly. “I know many have been suffering from breakthrough backlashes. I have commissioned a batch of easing elixirs so that your attempts and that of our other companions’ will be more fruitful!”

Ma Jun knew she should be overjoyed. And she was! Such a boon would greatly increase her chances.

Yet she could not quiet her discontent and found herself standing still as Gan Guangli clapped his hand on Gun Jun’s shoulder and the boys began to excitedly chat about their plans.

... How unfair.

Threads 61-Dressmaker 1

Now that she had settled into her routine, Ling Qi began each morning at her family's home, helping her mother take the first fitful steps with a cultivation art. Following that, she lingered long enough to have breakfast with her mother and sister, though she rarely had more than a few bites. Then it was time for a spot of private cultivation working on her arts, and after, it was either off to the lessons she had earned from the Sect, cultivating her body and spirit under the watch of an elder, or off to do military exercises with Senior Brother Liao Zhu or with her whole scouting cadre under Senior Sister Guan Zhi.

She set aside time in the evenings to keep up with her friends, whether it was taking tea with Meizhen, window shopping with Xiulan, or having a spar with Shen Hu. Then there was some time spent with Zhengui and Hanyi in relaxation and a little cultivation. Once the sun began to dip under the horizon, Ling Qi began her cultivation in earnest.

Having reached the temporary plateau of green foundation, she finally found time to really work on her cultivation arts. Mastering Eight Phase Ceremony was a simple matter. The final phase was simply a refinement of what had come before and a final integration of its exercises into her breathing and circulation habits. With this mastery, she would now be able to begin cultivating Songseeker’s Ceremony, the successor art that had been developed with the aid of the Grinning, Hidden, and Dreaming Moons.

Argent Genesis, the Sect’s cultivation art, took a little more effort. However, it was a very refined art, and she had to marvel at how easy it was to pick up. Cultivating the argent qi of the vent went simply and smoothly, and the lessons on spirit bonds contained in the art allowed her to make her connections with Zhengui, Hanyi, and Sixiang much more efficient. She swiftly mastered level after level, reaching the penultimate stage, the fifth day, of the art in only a week.

Her other goal for the month, cultivating an art she had dug out from the archive some time ago, was helped along by her scouting duties. Given her focus on preparing for the New Year’s Tournament last year and her rank challenges this year, she had neglected her more subtle abilities in favor of combat, but she was determined to change that. Ephemeral Night’s Memory was not an art of incredible potency and so, she swiftly cultivated to third fading in that art, but its techniques, which allowed for the manipulation of short term memory to improve her ability to pass unseen, were a good place to start until she could begin cultivating the wind thief art she had received from the Grinning Moon. It would also help her work on her ability to avoid spiritual attacks.

It helped that Liao Zhu praised her efforts in that direction and freely gave pointers while they were together. Apparently, he had cultivated the art himself when he was her age, though he had long since developed his own personal variant.

As the weeks passed and the time to begin working with Cai Renxiang on planning the next gathering came, Ling Qi entered her Sect lessons only to halt in surprise at the entrance to the lesson hall.

“That will be quite enough gawking, girl. Take your seat. You are nearly late as it is,” Elder Jiao said dismissively, waving toward one of the empty seats in the crowded hall. Elder Jiao was seated on a hovering seat cushion behind the lecturer’s podium, one leg crossed over the other. He wore bright lilac robes patterned with horribly clashing geometric patterns around the hems. He hadn’t bothered with a cap, leaving his bald grey scalp bare. Below him, his shadow pooled like spilled ink.

Ling Qi hurriedly bowed to the old man, even as she restrained the urge to furtively glance around. Her senses had grown greatly since she had seen Elder Jiao last, and now, she felt her hair prickling on the back of her neck as she felt and half-saw the eyes lurking in every shadow and patch of darkness in the chamber, watching and judging. He was doing it on purpose, of course; there was no way a cultivator of his skill couldn’t hide his presence better.

As the last few minutes of the hour ticked away, Ling Qi glanced around at the others in the room, disciples who had earned intermediate lessons all. No one seemed to know what was going on. Elder Heng was the usual teacher for these lessons. Before she could do more than consider the implications however, the door to the hall snapped shut with a bang.

“To answer the obvious question,” Elder Jiao began, “a short time ago, Elder Heng discovered the beginnings of serious degradation in his lower dantian. He will be withdrawing from public life to make his preparations for passing on. As such, I will be handling his lessons for a time. The Sect will make the proper announcements later today.”

Ling Qi stared. It wasn’t like she had known the other elder well, and she was obviously aware that he was very old, but it still felt unsettling to be reminded that whatever they might call themselves, they weren’t really immortal. There was a faint susurrus of sound from the rest of the class, but Elder Jiao cut it off with a flick of his sleeve. Literally. The noise ceased utterly with the motion of his hand.

“The time for paying your respects will come later. For now, we have a lesson. Today’s topic is a rather important one too. Namely, we will cover the path that lies ahead of you all should you continue to walk the road of cultivation. You all stand at the third or fourth stages of the third realm. An impressive feat.” Elder Jiao managed to make the accomplishment sound like it wasn’t impressive at all. “However, you will soon reach the point where the vast majority of even those who have great talent stumble and fail, and the obstacles will only grow higher. Your breakthroughs have thus far risked pain and setbacks, but the higher realms do not exact so lowly a price. The third realm is the last which can be achieved with effort and time alone, but it still has its own tribulations.”

Ling Qi thought back to her harrowing escape from her mentor’s power as it went mad and turned against her will and the insight that had carried her through the trial.

Elder Jiao let out an amused chuckle as he looked out over the sea of worried faces. “Hah, I see my words bring to mind pleasant memories indeed. Whatever tribulations you have faced, they are only the beginning. You will have to learn and master the modification and creation of arts, and in doing so, you will prepare yourself to begin moving on from such crutches. To step beyond the framing stage, you will face the most lethal and difficult trial. You will forge your childish and ill formed ways into a solid core and complete the evolution of your lower dantian, which will serve to anchor your identity as you ascend the highest realms.” He favored them with an amused grin. “And even then, many who claw their way to the peak of the third realm will fail, and in their failure, cripple their cultivation. As I previously mentioned, the higher realms are not so forgiving as the lower ones. To face your fourth realm breakthrough and the opening of your middle dantian without any but the utmost of preparations is to seek death.”

Ling Qi glanced around nervously, an obvious question rising in her mind but hoping someone else would work up the nerve to interrupt. Thankfully, that was unnecessary.

“I see the question in your minds, those of you with lesser backgrounds. For the vast majority of cultivators, only the lower dantian is relevant, and so, in common parlance, the dantian is simply referred to in the singular. You, however, are among those for whom the other dantians may be relevant. The middle dantian,” he said, tapping a spindly finger against his chest, “is opened in the fourth realm and acts as a forge to refine your qi into a purer form known as shen. You will sever your mortal vulnerabilities one by one, and their vital functions will be incorporated into the middle dantian as energy constructs referred to as pearls.” Elder Jiao then raised his hand, tapping once on his own forehead, directly between his eyes. “There is also the upper dantian. This is almost certainly irrelevant to all of you. Only those who rise to the violet realm need concern themselves with that.”

He clapped his hands. “However, even the middle dantian is a distant concern to all of you. Should you rise high enough that it is a concern, you will no doubt have earned enough Sect Points to request private lessons on the matter. Today, we focus on the portion of third realm cultivation which can be taught, the customization and creation of arts. By now, you will have begun to discern the true patterns in the formations of qi which the layman refers to as techniques, and so…”

Ling Qi leaned forward in her seat, taking in the elder’s words. There was a lot she still didn’t know, but that just meant that she needed to work harder. It seemed that she would soon have to start considering which of her arts she wanted to refine.

Elder Jiao’s lessons proved informative, and Ling Qi was determined to push herself as far as she could for her own sake, as well as for the sake of her family and even her liege. But she didn’t want to exhaust herself too much because she was scheduled for another tour with her scouting cadre next month. As the month wound to a close, Ling Qi decided to join Bai Meizhen and Cai Renxiang for a private gathering that she had been invited to.

***

Ling Qi grimaced in concentration as she wove through the storm of twisting, writhing ribbons of steel that sang through the air. Hungry strands of metal stained a deep toxic purple tore through the flickering shadow images left in her wake. With utmost care, she danced through the boiling pools that pitted the ground, bubbling not with heat but toxicity, as they devoured the earth and stone beneath her feet.

Only her masterful skill allowed her melody to be heard over the pounding roar of the venomous rain. Despite the rain, her mist hung stubbornly in the air, thick and dark, swirling in eddies kicked up by the roaring rain. The black phantasms within howled and circled her enemy, ready to descend at her mark.

Her opponent rose high before her, staring down imperiously from the shadows of her liquid mantle, suspended three meters in the air on coils of black water. Ling Qi faced her, flute raised, and she glowed like an emerald beacon, the full suite of techniques from Thousand Rings Fortress enough to allow her to stand tall even under the toxic rain.

Then Meizhen’s right hand twitched, and ribbons of metal screamed as they caught and deflected Ling Qi’s singing blade and flung it away. At the same time, Ling Qi bent low, allowing the silvery edge of Meizhen’s domain weapon to pass through the air above her with a muffled boom, carried on the leading edge of a fan of water that carved a meters-deep cut into the wall of the arena behind her, and exploded into motion, soaring over the lake that churned beneath Meizhen, growing with every drop of rain that fell.

Through her flute, she sang, and falling curtains of rain shattered as she flew through their newly solid forms. Meizhen’s free hand rose in warding as her refrain reached its crescendo, and black water froze and shattered, leaving red ice burns across her friend’s palm. Slashing ribbons carved through her verdant armor in response, but Ling Qi dissolved her form before they could touch flesh, passing through the binding coils like a shadow.

Before she could strike again, Meizhen’s golden eyes flashed, and Ling Qi faltered, her concentration scattered as what felt like a titanic hammer of raw terror smashed into her. Paralyzed for a fraction of a second, she failed to raise a defense as a tail of black water smashed into her chest and sent her flying backward to crater the packed dirt of the arena floor. She grimaced as she stood, still feeling a little shaky as she shook off the pain of the metaphysical bludgeon Meizhen had smashed her over the head with.

<Better you than me. Wasn’t even aimed at me and I felt that,> Sixiang muttered. <Remind me not to piss her off, yeah?>

Ling Qi chuckled as she raised her hands in surrender. There was no point in pushing further than this in a light spar, and they were short on time regardless. Despite the black clouded sky and churning mist, she could still sense the qi of the sun above. It was getting late. “Let’s call it here!” she called through the rain.

The specter of terror and abyssal water that loomed above her paused, and the lashing metal ribbons slowed their dance. “Hm, yes, it seems that we allowed ourselves to be carried away.” Bai Meizhen’s cool voice echoed strangely from under her mantle, but a moment later, the toxic rain began to clear, and her watery coils began to dissolve, letting the pale girl drift slowly down.

Ling Qi cut off the flow of qi to her mist as well, and the training field began to clear, a wide circle of packed earth encircled by sturdy qi-enhanced stone. Pools of sizzling poison pitted the field, and deep gouges and shattered stones marked the walls. “Really, though,” Ling Qi huffed. “Who gave you the idea to cultivate such an unfair art?”

Meizhen gave her a bland look as she alighted on the surface of the largest pool, the one that formed beneath her. Her friend swiftly glided across the surface and stepped soundlessly onto the muddy earth. “I could not imagine,” she replied serenely. “An idle whim, I suppose.”

Ling Qi cracked a grin and laughed. “Seriously, it seems like I really can’t catch up, no matter what I do.”

Bai Meizhen raised her eyebrow. “Ling Qi, fishing for praise does not become you. That you are keeping pace with me is absurd enough given the resources that have been made available to me.”

Ling Qi stretched her arms overhead. She was fine physically, but her whole spirit felt sore after that last hit. “Hah, sorry,” she breathed out. “Should we head on to lady Cai’s then?”

“I believe so,” Meizhen replied, gracefully picking her way through the ruined field. As she passed by, something caught Ling Qi’s eye.

“That reminds me, why’d you decide to change your hair?” Ling Qi asked curiously as she turned to follow her friend out. Meizhen’s hair had always been very long, reaching down to her hips after the girl’s third realm breakthrough, but she had worn it loose before. Now, starting at her shoulders, the girl’s white locks were bound by a pale blue ribbon of silk. It was hardly the most fanciful hairstyle she had seen, but it was a change all the same from her conservative friend.

Bai Meizhen glanced back at her as she caught up. “The ribbon was a gift. It seemed wasteful not to make use of it.”

“Something from your family?” Ling Qi asked. She had noticed the faint white stitching picking out formation characters on the ribbon, so it was obviously a talisman.

The other girl paused, but it was so brief that Ling Qi barely noticed it. “No, it was from Bao Qingling. She wished to express gratitude for my collaboration on her projects.”

“Ah, that silk thing you were talking about,” Ling Qi mused. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied her friend. “What does it do?”

“It soaks in and compresses qi circulated within my poison meridians into a more potent form. By expending the refined qi, I am able to enhance certain techniques significantly,” Bai Meizhen explained. “It is inferior to the family artifacts which she is attempting to replicate, but the effort is impressive all the same.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ling Qi said. “I’m surprised you got her talking to you in the first place though. How did that happen?”

Meizhen gave her a small frown as they left the training field, even as the air shimmered under the cloak of qi that kept their conversation private. “I found her rather similar to you if I am to be honest. She is not unwilling to speak on technical topics, but she does not bother hiding her disinterest in less material subjects.”

Ling Qi winced, not sure how she should take that. Was she really that bad?

“You’re more subtle, and better at being nice about it,” Sixiang chuckled.

“As the muse said,” Bai Meizhen said with a faint twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh it up. I’ll be the life of the party before you know it,” Ling Qi said with an affronted sniff.

“How horrifying the prospect must be for you,” Bai Meizhen replied blandly. Ling Qi poked her irritably in the side and had her hand swatted away for her trouble.

Ling Qi grumbled good naturedly as they made their way up the mountain toward Cai Renxiang’s current residence. However, she wasn’t done. “So, are you going to keep finding reasons to meet with her?”

Her friend’s graceful stride paused almost imperceptibly again. “If time allows, I suppose. I believe we find each other’s company agreeable. Why do you ask?”

Ling Qi thought about the question, trying to choose her words carefully. “I know you pretty well, I think, and I’m glad you’re making more friends. I guess…” She trailed off, not sure how to say it. Initial incident aside, she had not handled Meizhen’s interest well last year. “I’m just not sure what you’re looking for.”

“I do not know myself,” Meizhen answered lowly. “It is not exactly a subject on which I can seek help.”

“Nothing in the vaunted Bai archives addressing matters of the heart?” Ling Qi joked awkwardly, feeling a little sorry that she had pushed the conversation in this direction.

“Hmph, you joke, but the answers are not pleasing,” Bai Meizhen grumbled. “Looking back on childhood memories with further context, I am quite sure that the most common answer is to make use of one’s Xiao clan companion.”

Ling Qi did her best to keep a blank expression. Things were now veering wildly out of her comfort zone. Why had she done this again?

<Because you’re a hopeless busybody when it comes to your friends?> Sixiang offered wryly.

“Not what you’re looking for, I take it,” Ling Qi finally noted.

“Xiao Fen’s devotion is admirable, but absolutely not,” Meizhen agreed. “I do not know what I want, but it is not that.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t help,” Ling Qi apologized. “So, Bao Qingling? Why her?”

“We share a certain interest in the less medicinal branches of alchemy, and I find her acerbic nature somewhat endearing. And, well…” Meizhen trailed off awkwardly, glancing at Ling Qi.

Right. Apparently, tall and gangly was a type someone could have, Ling Qi thought wryly. “I wish you good luck, that’s for sure.” She just hoped Meizhen didn’t get hurt again. Still, it struck her then that Bai Meizhen was swiftly becoming better at dealing with such feelings than she was. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Thank you, but I think one has to know the outcome they desire before one can know whether a turn of fortune is good or bad,” Bai Meizhen said dryly. “But we are almost there, so perhaps this conversation is best set aside for now.”

Threads 62 Dressmaker 2

Soon, they arrived on Cai Renxiang’s doorstep, and the door swung open on its own as they arrived. Heading inside, they followed the beacon that was the other girl’s qi toward her study. Inside, Ling Qi found her liege seated not at her desk as was usual but in the more comfortable chair on the other side of the room. She was putting aside a rather thin volume bound in blue leather.

“Welcome,” Cai Renxiang said evenly, lowering her head slightly toward Meizhen. “My apologies for my inattention.”

“It is no trouble,” Meizhen replied graciously. “Although I am surprised.”

“Even I may become briefly distracted when immersed in a favorite,” Cai Renxiang said mildly. “I completed my cultivation some ten minutes ahead of schedule, so it seemed an opportune moment to revisit it.”

Ling Qi slid into the room behind Meizhen, offering a silent bow to her liege before they made their way out to the sitting room where three chairs were arranged in a circle. Beside each chair was an end table stocked with embroidery supplies. Ling Qi eyed the needles tentatively; she had not had cause to touch anything of the sort since her patchwork modifications to her first disciple robe. Ling Qi wanted to try immersing herself in the interests of her best friend and liege, and with both of them interested in sewing, this was probably the best point to start.

As they took their seats, Ling Qi said, “I admit, I am curious as to what sort of book could distract you so, Lady Cai. You are not much inclined to leisure.” She picked through the pieces that had been made available for her to embroider and was very glad that she had spent some time with Sixiang earlier to refresh her memory on how this sort of picky stitching worked.

<Well, you’ve got the fingers, but I’m always here for ideas,> Sixiang laughed.

“She is not wrong,” Meizhen said evenly. She had selected a plain sash of dark green silk to work on and was now rifling through the colored thread.

“I have had little time, it is true,” Cai Renxiang agreed. Glimmering gold thread snaked into the air from the basket beside her, levitating in front of her eyes for inspection. “Since I began my preparations for entering the Sect and public life, some matters have fallen by the wayside. Although I called it my favorite, in truth, this is the first time that I have had the opportunity to return to its pages in more than five years.”

Ling Qi knew that Cai Renxiang was older than her by a few months, having turned sixteen in the last month, but that would mean the book she had been reading was one she had picked up at ten or eleven. If her liege was a normal girl, she would wonder what kind of storybook it was. As things were, well… Ling Qi selected a dark blue hair ribbon for her project. “Please, my lady, do not keep us in suspense.”

Cai Renxiang arched an eyebrow at her, but no rebuke was forthcoming. It seemed that this was a private enough affair that some casual speech was acceptable. “It is titled ‘The Analects.’ The text is a collection of short, anecdotal statements and exchanges between a first dynasty scholar by the name of Kung and his disciples, as well as surviving fragments from a number of other books authored by them. He was quite an insightful man in many regards. I regret that the volume is incomplete.”

“I feel as if I might recall the name,” Meizhen mused, beginning her needlework. “Something to do with the early reforms of the ministry systems?”

“That effort was spearheaded by a student of the author’s surviving disciple. The volume itself is rather obscure. My own is a mere copy of the original which Mother has in her personal library,” Cai Renxiang explained as her needle threaded itself.

“Why incomplete then?” Ling Qi asked. “I can’t imagine that the Duchess would stand for that.”

“Even my honored mother cannot pluck the lost words of dead men from ten thousand years past from the air,” her liege said, a very slight edge of dryness in her words. “The scholar Kung was a resident of Chou county.”

Meizhen winced, but her needles didn’t falter. “Bai Wulin’s third clash with Shang Tsung, I presume?”

Cai Renxiang nodded. “The province was thoroughly destroyed by the clash between the honored general and the Usurper. What I have only exists because one of the disciples was away from the capital on an errand at the time.”

Even Ling Qi had picked up enough history to have at least a vague idea what they were talking about. The First Dynasty had ended in a civil war between branches of the Imperial house, resulting in the destruction of many archives and libraries. The Shang, as the usurpers had called themselves, had been bent on destroying pre-Imperial and early Imperial works.

<The pale pink would be a good contrasting color to add,> Sixiang suggested as Ling Qi picked through the threads.

“So, what is the book about?” Ling Qi asked as she took Sixiang’s advice, adding the spool to the colors she had picked out. Now, she just needed a pattern.

“The scholar muses on the foundational elements of society and governance and how they arise from the vagaries of interpersonal relationships,” Cai Renxiang answered. Already, the shapes of golden and black butterfly wings were taking shape on the silk in her hands. “I find that I have a new perspective on things with this reading and that I had ignored some insights to my detriment during my time at the Sect thus far.”

Ling Qi would hope so; the text didn’t sound like the sort of thing a ten year old was really equipped to parse, no matter how prodigious. She was not going to say so though.

“I believe you have done better in your tasks than could have been reasonably expected given the chaotic elements at play,” Meizhen noted. “It is good to be critical of oneself, but only to a point.”

Cai Renxiang absently acknowledged the words, and Ling Qi got the feeling that Meizhen had said as much before. “I disagree, of course. My failures arose from inflexibility, presumption, and compromise of my ideals. As the Scholar Kung said, ‘One who has committed a mistake and does not correct it is committing another mistake.’”

“A fine statement indeed,” Meizhen replied blandly. “Learn from the past certainly, but keep your eyes forward lest the future plant a knife in your back. The past is inviolate. You cannot change it, only act on things as they are.”

“You speak as if I am a madwoman, ready to destroy myself in battling the flow of time and not one merely engaging in self reflection,” Cai Renxiang said with faint exasperation.

“You have corrected your errors in perspective and reflected quite enough. I merely worry that you will mire yourself in such musing and become your own obstacle,” Meizhen shot back.

Ling Qi watched the two girls speak; the dynamic was different than she expected. It was strange. Her liege seemed more… personable with Meizhen. Some old ember of jealousy flared in her heart, but for who or for what, she wasn’t sure.

“While I can’t speak for my lady, I have found some success in self-reflection,” Ling Qi offered.

“Grudgingly,” Sixiang added in amusement. “And with much prodding.”

“And I will not gainsay the value of that,” Meizhen said with a huff. Glittering silver threads had begun to create an intricate geometric pattern on the silk in her hands. “We, the Bai, are engaged in such matters ourselves at the moment.”

“The branch clans are continuing to be troublesome?” Cai Renxiang asked carefully.

“The Violet Corals have been convinced to accept infrastructure funding to expand their coastal holdings, but the Blue Cobra and Yellow Boa remain aligned with other members of the family. That is not to speak of the troubles the Green Asp are making regarding the recent border incident. Many of the Bai are not taking the opening of borders and the exchanges with Emerald Seas well.”

“Worrying. The Meng and some elements of the Diao have been making dissatisfied noises as well, according to the reports mother allows me. Of course, Minister Diao will not allow too much defiance from within her clan, but the Meng are a concern,” Cai Renxiang said. She then looked to Ling Qi. “How have your meetings with the Bao gone?”

“We have not discussed politics much,” Ling Qi admitted, noting the interested look she received from Meizhen as well. She glanced down at her work to buy a moment to compose her reply, noting with some frustration how clumsy her own project looked compared to theirs. The snowflake pattern that she was working at was good for mortal work, but it seemed dull compared to the shifting pattern Meizhen was working on or the seeming living butterflies that fluttered across the pale blue cloth of Cai Renxiang's piece. “We spent most of the time discussing financial matters. Bao Qian seems like a talented young man; it does not seem like a wholly idle offer from the Bao.”

Meizhen hummed, giving her a suspicious look. Of course her friend would detect her mixed feelings on the matter. “Miss Bao seems to believe that her brother is serious about the matter,” she said.

“A hopeful sign. The true intentions of the Bao clan can be somewhat difficult to pin down. They were among the last of the counts to give open support to mother against the Hui, but they were among the most enthusiastic in the aftermath.” Cai Renxiang shook her head. “That reminds me of the matter which led to my invitation however, Ling Qi. You require further outfitting.”

Ling Qi blinked, not quite sure what to make of that. “I beg your pardon, Lady Cai?”

She caught the faintest touch of a smirk on Bai Meizhen’s lips. “I believe what Cai Renxiang wishes to say,” she interjected smoothly, “is that it is past time for you to acquire further accessories.”

“I approve of your desire to remain at top battle potential at all times,” her liege continued seriously. “However, it is possible to retain your potency while not presenting too stagnant an image.”

Sixiang started giggling, the traitor. “... I see. Might I ask what your plans are, my lady?”

“I have scheduled an appointment with Lin Hai, the man who designed your gown in its original state,” Cai Renxiang explained crisply. “The three of us will proceed to his workshop on the last day of the month. I wish you to be equipped before your next assignment.”

Ling Qi frowned. Her next scouting assignment would see her detached with a small group to defend an outlying mining village in Sect territory, so she would be away for some time, but she did not see what the hurry was. Unless…

Meizhen chuckled, and even Cai Renxiang looked briefly amused. “Yes, we will be acquiring more than just mundane accessories. We both require improved talismans. Mother has given me a small dispensation for that purpose.”

“And in a gesture of trust, Aunt Suzhen has agreed to fund a commission from an Emerald Seas master,” Bai Meizhen added. “So I am not merely along to prevent you from doing something silly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ling Qi asked, giving her friend an aggrieved look.

“The last time you commissioned talismans for yourself, one of them was that silly hairpiece that spat blinding dust,” her friend said with a sniff. “I will see you becoming dignified, even if I must hold your hand the entire way.”

“That aside,” Cai Renxiang said, cutting off any further squabbling, “consider what kind of piece you wish for over the next few days. There are many options. While Lin Hai is not my mother, able to spin a peerless blade from thread, he is nonetheless not limited to wholly cloth goods.”

Ling Qi shot Bai Meizhen a slightly sour look, but her friend did not look apologetic at all. “Of course, Lady Cai. Thank you for your invitation.”

Threads 63-Dressmaker 3

Ling Qi looked down at their destination, tucked away at the end of a winding river valley. Trees grew thickly at the riverside, and the branches hung heavy with cocoons. The silken wrappings were a riot of colors and glittered like jewels under the morning sun. Some were tiny, barely the length of a finger, while others were large enough to hold a small child. In the dark shadows of thick canopy, she heard the susurrus of thousands of wings and spied the movement of many fuzzy insect bodies.

Yet even more than the cocoon forest, the building at the end of the valley consumed her attention. She could think of only one thing to say.

“It’s very bright,” Ling Qi said, something between wonder and trepidation in her tone.

“Mother’s apprentices are all somewhat eccentric,” Cai Renxiang agreed, peering down at the sprawling, blazingly bright pagoda complex.

Ling Qi supposed she was being unfair. It wasn’t the sort of eye-searing monstrosity that Elder Jiao presented himself with. The pagoda was like a sunrise rendered into architecture, bands of vibrant color that seemed to shift every time she moved her eyes. Roof tiles shone like mirrors, and burning braziers hung from the eaves, crackling with pinkish white and pale orange flames.

“The Dawn isn’t the worst, so far as sun spirits go, but ugh, that’s a lot of solar qi,” Sixiang grumbled.

“Mm, while it is not for me, there is nothing inherently wrong with brighter colors,” Meizhen mused, standing beside them with her hands tucked into her sleeves. “The Coral Serpent families cultivate their towers and temples in a similar fashion.”

Ling Qi glanced at Meizhen, trying to picture a Bai dressed in bright and gaudy colors. She failed. “Should we head down? We have an appointment.”

“Quite right,” Cai Renxiang said briskly. “Sir Lin is quite busy. Let us not be rude by making him wait.”

They descended the stairs carved into the hillside and found the path leading toward Lin Hai’s workshop. Paved with white stone, it stood out sharply in the darkness beneath the trees. That darkness, Ling Qi noted, was artificial given the dense dark qi infused into the leaves, causing them to cast wider and darker shadows. It seemed to be for the benefit of the multitude of moths that flew and nested above their heads. Like the cocoons, they came in a myriad of colors, sizes, and shapes.

In the end, she put them out of her mind. The spirit beasts were happy to mind their own business, and she was happy enough to mind hers.

<Good thing, too. What a lewd bunch they are. Wouldn’t want your ears catching fire,> Sixiang chuckled. <So this is the lovenest, huh.>

Ling Qi kept her eyebrows from twitching and ignored Sixiang as they left the shadow of the trees and stepped onto the stone path that wound through the colorful gardens that surrounded the main building. As her eyes roamed up the stairs which lead onto the wide veranda surrounding the main building, she almost startled as she met a pair of bright green eyes.

There, lounging on the railing, was a beautiful woman with long golden hair and fair features wearing a scandalous, pale rose gown that left her shoulders bare and displayed a near indecent part of her generous chest. The hem of the gown barely fell past her knees and rode almost halfway up her thigh thanks to the position she was seated in. Ling Qi barely had time to take the sight of her in, along with the unsettling fact that she had not felt her presence at all, before the woman vanished in a flash of light, leaving a fox with pale golden fur and five tails to leap down from the railing and then trot off into the interior of the pagoda.

“That is Sir Lin’s spirit companion,” Cai Renxiang said from beside her. “She is likely going ahead to announce us and rouse him from his labors.”

“Of course,” Ling Qi replied automatically. In retrospect, it was pretty obvious.

“He should teach his spirits to appear more appropriately in their human shapes,” Meizhen said with a sniff.

As they mounted the stairs, Cai Renxiang said, “Worry not. Although Sir Lin has extravagant tastes in his personal appearance, he remains a master of more traditional fashions.”

Ling Qi glanced down at her dress, which was apparently the man’s work. She supposed that he must be given the style of her own dress.

<It’s a good thing you don’t remember most of the guests at Grandmother’s party very well,> Sixiang chuckled.

Ling Qi kept her peace as they entered the pagoda proper and came to a comfortably appointed waiting room lined with lavish couches and hanging planters full of colorful flowers. A closed set of sliding doors awaited on the far side of the room. When she stepped through, a pace behind the others, she glanced back to see the doors swinging silently shut behind them. Yet the room did not grow dark. The paper lantern hanging from the ceiling, painted with images of the dawn on all four sides, managed to cast enough light that it still felt like they were standing outside.

Ling Qi had just turned to look at Cai Renxiang, opening her mouth to ask if they should take their seats when the faint rattle of sliding doors cut off her words. Across the room, the doors slid apart, and dark purple mist billowed out, crawling along the floor and rising in churning strands of fog. Then lights, a beam of solar radiance that shot from the lantern overhead only to split into four smaller beams, carved a channel through the mist for the figure that emerged.

Tall and thin as a willow whip, the man that strutted from the mist had features far more fine and delicate than even most women. His long black hair was like silk, and faded to a dark purple color in the ringlets that reached his bare shoulders. He wore a billowing, open-chested violet top with a thick layer of feathery material around the low cut, partially concealing his shoulders and chest. Ling Qi felt herself flush darkly as her gaze slipped down, and she immediately fixed her eyes on his face rather than the skin-hugging black silk pants he was wearing.

Even then, she couldn’t help but notice further details like the hint of color on his lips or the thickness of his eyelashes. If she had just looked at his face in isolation, she would have been almost sure that it was the face of a woman. As she contemplated that, the lights swung back in to illuminate him then exploded into motes of light, scattering the purple mist and leaving only a few streamers curling around his sleek boots.

“Lady Ren!” greeted Lin Hai. The man stood with one hand on his hip and the other cupping his chin. A golden jeweled claw that encased his pointer finger rose to tap against his cheek. “How was the entrance? I believe I have improved since last time.”

“It was very impressive,” her liege replied. “A very controlled display.”

“Of course that is the part you would compliment,” the man said ruefully. “Still, I was not wholly certain how much your companions would be able to handle.” The strangely dressed man before her rippled then, space seeming to stretch and warp for a bare instant as she glimpsed his unrestrained qi, vast and placid. Sights and sounds and smells crawled along the edge of her senses, a decadent riot, an endless festival of sensation just out of reach. Then it was gone, and only the man remained.

“You are preparing to take the next step then?” Cai Renxiang asked. “Mother will be pleased.”

“I will not boast until my first star has bloomed and my elder’s seal has been received,” the peak fifth realm cultivator replied easily. It was interesting he had not already been chosen to be an elder. Normally just being a fifth realm was enough.“But enough of myself. I see you have brought two of my children back to see me, and their owners, too, at that. My apologies, young ladies, but might I have your names?”

“I am Bai Meizhen,” her friend greeted first with a shallow bow appropriate to greeting an unrelated senior. “Thank you for the work you have already provided.”

Ling Qi bowed a little deeper as one would to a clear superior. “Sir Lin, it is an honor to meet you. I am Ling Qi. Your work has been invaluable to me.”

“It was a pleasure to do a favor for Lady Ren,” Lin Hai said, abandoning his pose to stroll toward them. “And a wonderful challenge to create something appropriate with such limited materials. That it brought the Young Miss to my doorstep was a welcome bonus.”

Ling Qi glanced toward Cai Renxiang, whose expression was a touch wooden by her judgement. “Your encouragement toward irresponsibility is noted, Sir Lin, and also dismissed, as always,” she said.

“Ah, it seems I have earned a rebuke, although yours are not so sharp as Master’s just yet, Lady Ren,” the odd man chuckled, and filtered through Sixiang’s perceptions, she thought that she caught a fleeting hint of melancholy from him. It was gone before her muse could so much as articulate the feeling, but it left Ling Qi to wonder at the history implied there.

Lin Hai clapped his hands then, and any hint that he was less than boisterous and cheerful vanished. “So, let us inspect how my children have fared over the last year,” he announced brightly. He stepped toward Bai Meizhen, who looked up at him with a staid expression.

“You will find no fault with my maintenance, Sir Lin,” her friend said evenly, managing to look up at the taller man without craning her neck.

“Of course not, Miss Bai,” he dismissed, inspecting her carefully. He flicked his golden clawed finger at the air above her shoulder, and shimmering spectral threads rose, dancing around the man’s fingers. “However, the impression of this child’s experiences will allow me to determine the best way to improve upon the original weave.”

“Are our gowns alive already then?” Ling Qi asked tentatively, thinking back to what her gown had done in the dream and a few other moments of odd reactions from it.

“That is a more difficult question than you might think, young lady,” Lin Hai said, not looking up from the complex weave that had formed over her friend’s shoulder. “There are many degrees of life, you will find, but in the traditional sense, no. I am not my master; such craft is beyond me for the moment. That said, their potential lies closer to the surface than most.” He flicked his fingers again, and the spectral threads dissolved. “You are a redoubtable young woman indeed, Miss Bai. It seems this child is a good match. I know just the materials to use for your improvements and custom pieces.”

He turned to Ling Qi and repeated the motion with his fingers. This time, the threads he drew from her shoulder sparked and snapped like oil from the pan as they wrapped around his fingers. Lin Hai’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. “I see you have met my master as well,” he said. “Lady Ren?”

“She is a direct retainer of the Cai. Mother granted me certain dispensations,” Cai Renxiang answered carefully. Bai Meizhen glanced at Ling Qi with pursed lips but did not ask the obvious question.

Ling Qi remembered the thread of Liming she had accepted when she pledged to Cai Renxiang and looked down at her gown uncomfortably.

“Well, Master does as Master wills,” Lin Hai said cheerfully, peering down with narrowed eyes at the incomprehensible pattern of sparking and snapping threads that curled around his fingers. “So I am afraid that I will not be able to improve on your gown directly, Miss Ling. This girl has a seed of self, and I will not alter that. But my, what a jealous daughter. I shall have to be careful in fixing your accessories so that she does not take offense.”

“Why do you refer to my gown as a ‘she’ if it is not alive yet?” Ling Qi asked, plucking at her sleeve. She sensed no spirit in the threads, but she wasn’t going to say that the gown’s maker was wrong.

“Because she is a girl, of course,” Lin Hai said in amusement. “Miss Bai’s gown is not quite so far along just yet.”

“I should certainly hope that my gown does not develop into a man,” Bai Meizhen said with a voice as dry as a desert.

“Unlikely as it is, I will not preclude the possibility,” Lin Hai shot back, his painted lips curving slightly up. “It would not do to confuse the poor dear before it is even developed enough for there to be a difference. It is not my way - nor my master’s way - to repeat the mistakes of nature in our work.”

Ling Qi’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. She glanced at Cai Renxiang, who merely shook her head. Some kind of private matter then?

“Very well,” Bai Meizhen said after a moment, though her tone was dubious. “I suppose it is not an important matter for the moment.”

“Indeed. Proud as I am of my work, without my master’s touch, it will still be some decades yet,” Lin Hai said agreeably, stepping away. “Let us away to my boutique then, and we can begin laying out your options.”

The three of them followed Lin Hai back through the doors from which he emerged, entering a long hallway. Many rooms opened off of it, some closed and some open. It reminded her of Zeqing’s home in the way things seemed to move in the corner of her eye and the strangely stretched feeling of the space within. Several times in the side rooms where vast looms and collections of tailor’s tools spun and cut and stitched, she thought she spotted the fox woman again, doing various tasks. Or perhaps there were several similar looking spirits. It was difficult to tell.

<I can’t tell ya. Mature fox spirits are some of the trickiest out there, and I’m not up to seeing through a five tail’s illusions,> Sixiang murmured. The muse did not seem so much wary as deeply curious and a bit on edge. Ling Qi could understand. It felt uncomfortably warm in Lin Hai’s residence, thanks to the solar qi suffusing the air. She supposed the feeling was just her preference; neither Meizhen or Cai Renxiang showed any signs of discomfort.

Soon, they came to a room filled with a riot of color. Gowns and robes and cloaks hung like a glittering jungle from displays all around, and shoes and slippers and boots of every make lined shelves around the show floor.

“And here we are. Let us begin your consultations,” Lin Hai said airily. The odd man snapped his fingers, and his outline wavered like the reflection in a disturbed lake. In the next moment, there were three of him, one facing each of them.

Bai Meizhen glanced her way. “I would prefer to be able to give and receive some advice from my companions,” she said.

“Of course, young miss,” Lin Hai said, speaking from three mouths. “I know how much fun it is for young ladies to critique and advise one another. However, I need to determine your individual tastes before I can present the best options.”

“Very well,” Meizhen acceded after a moment and nodded to Cai Renxiang and Ling Qi. “I will see you in a moment then.”

“Indeed,” Cai Renxiang said gravely, turning toward the section of the display where the more metallically-textured pieces hung.

“See you both,” Ling Qi added, nerves causing her to slip in her diction. However, her concern was swiftly assuaged as one of the Lin Hai led her away. They were not leaving the room. Both of her friends were still in sight, although the sounds of their conversations with their own images were muted to her ears.

“I am glad that Lady Ren’s description of you was so exacting. Darker hues most definitely fit you,” Lin Hai commented as he led her into a forest of dark cloth and silk. “Now, I have heard of your troubles. What sort of image is it that you wish to present?”

“I had thought that you would be the one to tell me that,” Ling Qi replied wryly. “I’ve been told that my taste is somewhat lacking.”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” The core disciple made a dismissive flick of his fingers. “Oh, I can certainly advise you on trends - court fashion is trending toward lighter garb and away from the swimming in silk look popular under His Honored Highness An, and that is in no small part thanks to my master - but my role is ultimately to guide my clients to a destination that they choose. Sometimes, that means guiding my clients to whatever fashion will give them an advantage in the game of court, but…” He paused, meeting her eyes with a thin smile on his painted lips. “You do not seem like the sort for masks and self-deception. The Argent Mirror is a little troublesome like that.”

Ling Qi flicked her eyes away from his. Well, this was someone on the cusp of becoming an elder in the Argent Sect. “I am not sure of what image I wish to present, to be honest. This gown… I love it,” she admitted. “It’s the nicest thing I have ever owned, and it reminds me that I am not weak anymore, that I don’t have to be. I don’t want to cause trouble for Lady Cai though, and wearing the same thing all the time apparently does that.”

Lin Hai gave a wry chuckle. “I cannot say that I am displeased to hear a child of mine so cherished. However, yes, society does not much smile on wearing the same clothes every day.” He let out a curious hum and reached over, plucking at the hem of her cloak. Ling Qi felt it waver and shift. The heavy mantle changed, transforming from a heavy mantle to a light half cloak of deep violet, and then with another pluck, silk writhed like a serpent, transforming into a sky blue ribbon of silk that wound around her shoulders, floating softly in the air.

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know it could do that.” Ling Qi knew she could make the mantle appear and disappear at will, but she didn’t know it could change like that.

“‘She,’ darling,” Lin Hai corrected absently, brushing the tip of his golden claw across the silk. The pattern on the silk changed, transforming from a plain blue to a complex pattern that looked like moving, falling snowflakes. “The mantle was always made to change, but Master’s enhancement gave her far more versatility. Hm, yes, I think what you need are merely options. Alternate panels and layers, a few more pairs of shoes, perhaps some lace inserts for your sleeves. Your hair would complement gemstones well, so perhaps something could be done with that.”

Ling Qi remained silent as the craftsman spoke to himself. “I do not think I should like anything too bright,” she said, avoiding the use of the word ‘gaudy.’ Across the room, she saw Meizhen inspecting a long and winding cloth, similar to the one her mantle had currently become.

“Of course not. Silver is your color, perhaps with ground onyx or jet, some dark amethyst, or some paler blues if we wanted a bit of brightness.” Lin Hai hummed. “Before I think further on the matter, what sort of talisman do you think you are looking for today?”

Ling Qi was glad to return to something she had more confidence in. She had discussed the matter with Meizhen after the embroidery session, and the girl had sold her on the idea of hand jewelry, the little arrangement of bracelets and rings connected by chains or charms that she had seen some people wearing now and then. It was something that originated in the Thousand Lakes apparently, popular among the more daring sort of Bai ladies. She glanced at Lin Hai’s own golden claw; she didn’t want something that ostentatious though.

“I was thinking of some kind of hand jewelry, maybe with moon imagery. I use many sustained constructs and techniques in combat, so I need something that will help defend me from an enemy’s efforts to dispel them.”

“Been sparring with the Young Miss quite a bit, I see,” Lin Hai chuckled.

“Yes,” Ling Qi admitted.

“I believe it should not be difficult to whip up something of the sort,” Lin Hai said, gesturing idly toward a display case which held a plethora of gleaming jewelry. Rings and bracelets and charms rose into the air like a glittering school of fish and swam through the air toward them. “That does bring me to the other matter. What do you think of Lady Ren, Miss Ling?”

Ling Qi blinked, then blinked again, glancing across the room to where Cai Renxiang stood stiffly, discussing something with another Lin Hai. As she watched, the copy struck another pose as a winding belt of thick gold links slithered off of a display shelf to circle around him. “I am not sure what you mean, Sir Lin,” she replied.

“I mean what I said. Lady Ren is dear to me, but I cannot say that the feeling is mutual,” he said with a sad smile. “I am glad to see that she has finally made a true friend in your other companion, but in the end, you are the one who will be standing by her side.”

Ling Qi restrained herself from looking around nervously. She was reminded that this man was an apprentice of Cai Shenhua. Was this some kind of test? “I am glad to serve Lady Cai. She has been very generous to me.”

“Not precisely what I mean.” Lin Hai struck a thoughtful pose, cupping his chin with his clawed hand. “Let me share a secret then, so that you might share yours.” He leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “It was I who was charged with Lady Ren’s safety as an infant, and I who fended off those who sought to extinguish the Cai in the crib. I watched her first steps and her first words, and I watched as my master, great though she is, erred terribly in introducing that bright girl into her presence for the first time at such a young age when she could not hope to withstand her mother’s attention and inspection.”

The man’s cheerful and irreverent tone had faded very quickly, becoming quite grim by the end. Ling Qi only felt her nerves grow; she remembered the terrible radiance of the Duchess’ gaze and the weight of her presence. Something like that wasn’t something she wanted to know.

“Young lady, my master knows my thoughts quite well,” Lin Hai reassured her. “It is not as if I could keep them from her. My master is merciless, but it is not dissent that she punishes. So, understand, when I ask you what you think of Lady Ren, it is as a fond uncle whose niece no longer trusts him for his part in certain events.”

Ling Qi calmed herself, forcing herself to forget the Duchess for the moment. This was not the time for courtly prevarication. “She is someone who I trust, and I believe in the path she wants to walk,” she answered after a long pause. “I don’t know how to approach her any further though.”

“Understandable,” Lin Hai sighed, absently gesturing to the swarm of jewelry swimming overhead. Three silvery reflective discs darted out to circle around his fingers. “Still, I must ask you, please try. Whatever she might say of herself, she remains a girl like any other. The damage is done, but it is not something which Master can fix.”

Ling Qi remembered the fear she had sensed from her liege when her mother had announced that they would be spending the evening together. “You make it sound like she wants to fix it,” Ling Qi said warily.

Lin Hai paused in his inspection of the discs. “Perhaps. Master does not know regret in the way that you or I might. She does not and cannot hold back; her nature does not allow it. And so, a child has the full weight of her expectations carved into her bones before she can even comprehend such concepts fully. But Master does recognize the need for support: Diao Linqin, Wang Jun, Jia Hong. Without them, Master could not have accomplished her coup.”

“Then why the impossible tasks?” Ling Qi asked in frustration, thinking of her own concerns over Sect rank and Gan Guangli’s seemingly untenable task.

“Because mediocrity cannot be abided,” Lin Hai answered. “Master does not seek to hurt, but she will do so without hesitation if she judges it to be beneficial.”

“How do you speak so fondly of her then?” Ling Qi asked, troubled.

“There is no grand reason,” he said self-deprecatingly. “Only that, without her, I would still be a sullen and mediocre lady of the court amounting to nothing. It is quite a selfish reason, but as you said of Lady Ren… I believe in her.”

Ling Qi lapsed into silence as his attention turned back to making her talisman. She glanced over to Cai Renxiang once again and thought on Lin Hai’s request.

Threads 64-Foreshock 1

“To think, you finally choose to change your style, and I am left out of it,” Xiulan said, aggrieved. “Ling Qi, am I truly so poor a friend that you would not even ask my advice?”

Ling Qi rolled her eyes at Xiulan’s dramatics. “And I told you that it was something that got sprung on me suddenly. Who am I to refuse the advice of an apprentice to the Duchess?”

“You could have at least angled to get me an invitation, you terrible girl,” Xiulan grumbled, looking over to study her. “I suppose I cannot argue with results.”

Ling Qi shifted under her attention. She still felt odd about changing her looks on the regular since she was worried about messing it up. Since they were heading out into the wilderness and the weather was cooling, she had gone for an ‘autumn-winter’ look, not that she had more than a basic understanding of what that meant.

Her winged mantle had been traded for a thicker cloak that covered her shoulders and chest and hung down almost to her feet with a high fur-trimmed collar that brushed her chin. She had switched out the front panel of her gown for one showing falling snowflakes that seemed to move as the cloth shifted. A few of the underlayers of silk had been switched out for thicker cloth, lending the gown a bit more ‘weight,’ and the hems had been drawn in and a trim of dark purple fur had been added. She liked the sleek, black calfskin boots that she had picked out, even if she was less fond of the fact that they were visible beneath the raised hems.

On her left hand, she wore the Three Moon’s Chime talisman that Lin Hai had made. The hand jewelry consisted of a silver ring and a silver wristband with butterflies and songbirds etched into it in powdered ruby. The two were connected by fine chainlinks with three charms carved from colored jade representing the Grinning, Hidden, and Dreaming Moons attached to them. Tiny bells hung from the links between the moons, letting off a pleasing chime if Ling Qi did not want them to be silent. As befit a talisman created by a master, it even had an active technique that would allow her to absorb hostile dispel techniques.

“I assure you, next time that I am going to be poked and prodded and measured for hours, I will be sure that you get an invitation,” Ling Qi replied dryly.

“Be sure that you do,” her friend said imperiously, the gravel of the road crunching under the soles of her own boots. She gave Ling Qi another assessing look. “Really, I do think you chose well though. It is not my style, but that sort of cut suits you.”

LIng Qi reached up, tentatively brushing her fingers through her hair. Lin Hai had convinced her to lighten up on the straightening elixirs. Her increasingly long hair was now bundled at the base of her neck, leaving a tail of wavy locks reaching almost the middle of her back. The whole thing was held together with a silver butterfly pin in deference to her liege. She still wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“Thank you,” she said. “I see you’ve been experimenting yourself.” Her friend’s glossy hair had been woven through a complex golden hairpiece made to look like a rising sun with rays that radiated out, supporting the bundle of hair behind it. The girl had also been working some dark red highlights in, but whether that was an effect of cultivation or dye, Ling Qi did not know.

“Ah, do you like it?” Xiulan asked, tilting her head to let the piece catch the sunlight and gleam. “I am considering commissioning a talisman, but I wished to wear a piece of similar make before I invested.”

“It’s very mature,” Ling Qi said with a slight smile.

Xiulan made a face at her. “Ugh, must you put it like that?”

“It does seem like something your mother might wear,” Ling Qi teased. In her thoughts, she felt Sixiang’s amusement.

<Humans are weird. You should just let your hair grow long and pretty without tying it in knots,> Hanyi muttered mutinously. <Can’t believe the big lump fell asleep.>

“And what is wrong with that? Mother is the peak of fashion,” Xiulan boasted. “I can hardly go wrong in emulating her.”

Ling Qi did not think Ai Xiaoli was the sort of woman to be caught outside in less than three dozen layers of silk, let alone something like the mere three-layered light yellow gown Xiulan was wearing with its scandalously bare shoulders and hems that came down only to the calf.

“I hate to interrupt, but I can see the walls.” The third of their number, previously silent as he walked a few paces ahead of them, spoke up. Shen Hu had not changed much over the last half year, except that he had unfortunately taken to wearing a loose shirt of dark green silk.

Ling Qi was gaining on them in cultivation - and noticeably so. Xiulan had just reached the appraisal stage, and even Shen Hu had only recently reached full foundation cultivation despite starting the year a full stage ahead. It couldn’t be helped. “We’re still pretty early. Should we have a look around the town then?” she asked.

“I doubt there is much to see,” Xiulan replied, giving the low stone walls ahead a faintly disdainful look. “But I suppose it is not a bad way to spend an hour or so. Will you escort us then, Sir Shen?” she asked sweetly.

“I suppose,” the older boy said, his hands held together casually behind his head. It seemed that over the course of the last few months, he had become inured to Xiulan.

Ling Qi glanced over as a disgruntled look passed over Xiulan’s expression. She had a feeling that she had missed something. Sparring and shopping was all well and good, but she recognized the signs of mounting frustration in her friend; it looked like they needed another girl’s night sometime in the near future.

“Well, let’s have a look around then,” she said brightly before the silence could grow awkward.

Ling Qi had done her research before this mission. While her Senior Brother Liao Zhu would still be on the mission as well, he would not be there to mind her as he had done in the previous scouting exercise. After completing the last lesson in the previous month, she, now in her seventh month in the Inner Sect, was a provisional officer of the Sect’s scouting division. She did not want to fail or do poorly now.

The region they were deployed to, a hilly scrubland rich in mineral wealth, was a few days east of White Cloud Mountain at a first realm’s pace. The town they were approaching was the region’s center, a township of a little over two thousand people laid out behind neat square walls and sectioned into districts. The smoke and heat of smelters clouded the air here as raw ore was turned into bars to be shipped out to larger settlements, and heavily laden wagons full of blocks of quarried marble, granite, and jade moved slowly through the wide streets.

At the north end of the city was a well kept market district where traders from outside the province came to purchase raw goods in exchange for foodstuffs, worked goods, and luxuries. At the city’s very center lay its Immortal district, kept clear of smoke by formations set into the inner marble walls. It was the luxurious barracks there that she and the others were bound for.

The town had very few cultivator residents. There was a Sect Overseer which the mortal governor and ministers answered to, a man at the fifth stage of the third realm, and a bare handful of early third realm officers in the hundred and fifty strong permanent garrison of first and second realm soldiers.

“How very rustic,” Gu Xiulan said dryly as she strode through the inner gates, paying no mind to the first realm soldiers manning it. She did not acknowledge the bowing men as she strutted past, once again in the full flower of her confidence. “Still, it could be worse.”

Ling Qi favored the guards with an apologetic smile as she swept past, but it didn’t seem to comfort them. “Perhaps for you. I don’t really care for the soot in the air,” she said wryly as they left the gates behind. It wasn’t too bad - a handful of formation markers kept the worst of it from settling in the streets - but Ling Qi had grown used to the clear, crisp air of the Sect’s mountains.

“Breathing in a few sparks now and then is good for your character,” Gu Xiulan jested.

“It reminds me a bit of the charcoal makers at home,” Shen Hu commented. “Smells bad though.”

“Your family makes charcoal? What for?” Ling Qi asked. She would think fuel like that would be unnecessary for most things.

“Something about transferring properties to the metals,” Shen Hu said. “Sorry, my older brother and sister know more about that kind of thing. Don’t really have the head for crafting.”

“It has its uses,” Xiulan said imperiously, not looking over at the boy. “Of course, the deathstone quarried from the outskirts of the Grave is superior.”

“Sure is, probably,” Shen Hu agreed with an uncaring shrug.

Xiulan made an irritated noise in the back of her throat. “In any case, it seems we must part ways here. Good luck, Ling Qi. Perhaps we might find ourselves assigned to the same hamlet sometime during the week.”

“Maybe,” Ling Qi replied, dipping her head first toward Xiulan and then Shen Hu. “Try not to burn down anything we want to keep though.”

“Just try not to frighten any peasants to death, you wraith,” Xiulan shot back with a smirk.

Shen Hu gave them both mildly concerned looks and shook his head. Sometimes, Ling Qi thought, he just didn’t seem to get jokes. “Yeah, it’s raiding season. Keep your eyes open.”

Ling Qi left the two of them to enter the barracks and turned down the street herself, heading toward the smaller office where the scouts would be meeting. Passing swiftly down the mostly empty street of the government quarter, the elegant single story building with a peaked roof soon came into sight. Ling Qi recognized it from the description she had been given.

However, as she approached, she slowed down, first feeling and then sighting an unignorable presence. Slowing and then stopping in the tile-paved courtyard outside of the building, Ling Qi bowed. “Senior Sect Sister Guan.”

The young woman cocked an eyebrow at her, not uncrossing her arms. “Commander is more appropriate when we are on duty, Officer Ling.” The tall young woman dressed lightly, wearing only a sleeveless jacket of grey padded cloth and similarly colored pants tucked into thick mountaineer’s boots. Formation-inscribed bandages covered her hands and forearms, but she wore no other accessories.

“My apologies, Commander Guan.” Ling Qi held in a grimace at her mistake. She had spent so much time dealing with nobility that it had pushed some of her military lessons out of her head.

“We are not on the field just yet, so I will forgive the slip. Seeing that you recently visited Senior Brother Lin, I can forgive some slippage in discipline,” Guan Zhi said evenly.

Ling Qi’s eyes widened. “Is it that obvious?” she asked, glancing down at herself.

“The only thing that flies faster than the barbarians are rumors,” her commander said dryly. “In any case, come along, officer. You are the last to arrive, and I must brief you all and decide upon assignments.”

<Still can’t believe you left me out, Big Sis. I want a pretty dress too,> Hanyi complained.

Ling Qi hurried to follow Guan Zhi as she turned and stepped toward the door, glancing over at the young woman. She assumed she was young anyway. It occurred to her that she had no idea how old Guan Zhi was. “May I ask a question of you, Commander?”

“You may,” the girl replied tersely as she led her inside past rooms populated by first realm cultivators, cartographers and messengers going about their tasks and crafts.

“What should I expect from raiders?” Ling Qi asked with a touch of nerves. “I have read reports and such, but my home city is far into the interior.”

Guan Zhi looked her way, assessing Ling Qi. “Young men out to prove themselves warriors by looting and killing,” she answered. “The typical raid is a quick affair, a half dozen or so low ranking cultivators swooping down to smash homes, destabilize quarries or mines, and steal livestock and metals. It is unusual for them to stand and fight, and a show of force will typically scare them off immediately. However, sometimes this is only a feint to draw glory hungry soldiers into chasing them.”

Ling Qi nodded in understanding.

“However,” Guan Zhi continued sharply. “Recently, things have grown more dangerous, but I will get to that in the briefing.”

Ling Qi dipped her head in acknowledgment as they reached a closed door. She could sense the other presences inside and was a little surprised by what she felt. Stepping into the room behind Guan Zhi, she found not only Liao Zhu, who was seated in a meditative pose against the far wall, but also two other faces she recognized among the handful of other third realm disciples in the room.

Alingge and Sha Feng both nodded amicably to her as she took her seat beside them, and Guan Zhi moved to the front of the room to stand behind the speaker’s podium. Liao Zhu stood smoothly as she took her position, stepping into a deferential position behind her.

“The region you all have been assigned contains three major landmarks and five settlements,” Guan Zhi began without preamble. Her voice was crisp and clear. “For the next week, the safety of its inhabitants will be in the hands of you and your counterparts. While this is normally not a terribly arduous task, a number of factors lead the Sect to believe that trouble may arise. Firstly, tribesmen have been spotted in greater numbers than is normal throughout the year, and this has not tapered off. Secondly, a new mine and its attendant village is currently under construction and development, meaning that there is a gap in our defenses and potential for trouble with the spirits of the mountain. It is suspected that the barbarians may strike there specifically as records indicate that some local tribes once used it as a site for certain rites.”

Ling Qi listened closely as her commander began to lay out the situation. The region to the south of this town contained two major peaks comparable to White Cloud Mountain. The first, Cyan Peak, lay just a half dozen kilometers south and east and was the site of two well established quarrying villages that harvested the rare sky jade which composed much of the mountain. Further out from that was a stretch of hills with a single major river flowing through where two additional villages lay, farming the fertile valley to provide crops for the rest of the region. Furthest south was Icebreaker Peak, a tall and forbidding spike of a mountain that rose high to pierce the clouds.

Icebreaker Peak was the site of the new village on a location discovered to hold iron as well as higher grade metals and seams of diamond. There had already been troubles from the spirits there as the mine shaft had been dug. Liao Zhu would be assigned there to ensure that the completion of the mine went smoothly. Guan Zhi herself intended to range out into the outskirts of the Wall itself to keep a watchful eye on known Cloud Tribe gathering places and sky routes.

“This leaves the matters of the villages themselves. Each region will require a scouting division complement. I will also require a squad to act as rangers and messengers, remaining on the move between all points to maintain communications between myself and the captain here,” Guan Zhi concluded. “I would hear your suggestions now regarding where you believe you will be best deployed.”

Ling Qi thought about the potential posts. The villages on Cyan Peak seemed as if they would be the safest. From the description, they were relatively well fortified already, which meant they might not need her.

No, one of the other positions would suit her better.

The valley villages were more sprawling and less well defended by nature, but she was fast, and her arts could cover a great deal of ground. Plus, it might benefit Zhengui to be in a position to defend something. On the other hand, being in the messenger cadre would make the best use of her mobility, and she could even use the techniques she had studied in the Curious Diviner’s Eye art to help facilitate communication. It might be a better use of her talents.

As others began to speak, Ling Qi decided where she and her spirits would do best.

Bonus: Snake and Spider 2

The training field was unrecognizable.

It had begun as an artificial cavern with a high ceiling and uneven scalloped floor, full of columns and other stone growths to obstruct combatants. Now, sizzling acid pooled in the pockmarked floor, and glittering crystalline webbing had consumed the ceiling. Hanging prismatic sheets and nets obscured above, and rising clouds of toxic mist mingled with dissolved minerals below.

Bai Meizhen advanced, liquid coils noiselessly parting the acidic pool below. In her hand, the ribbons of her blade shifted restlessly, filling the cavern with their metallic hiss.

She was having fun.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the quiver of a crystal thread, and a twitch of her hand had ribbon blades lashing out to intercept the gleaming silver needles which erupted through the pouring acid rain. The high ring of metal on metal sounded, and needles scattered, burning finger-thick holes through already pockmarked stone columns to impact the walls. Her tail lashed out and smashed apart the figure dangling from the threads. Another decoy, already falling apart into shredded webbing. Where…?

Bai Meizhen raised her empty left hand and caught the tines of Bao Qingling’s tigerclaw blades on her forearm. The force of the blow sent a ripple through her mantle, and the sizzling liquid pool beneath exploded backward at the sudden pressure, cracking the stone beneath. For a single moment, she met the girl’s dark eyes as her arm trembled with the effort of holding back the girl’s superior strength.

Bao Qingling parted her lips and spat a glimmering needle of black jade. Bai Meizhen jerked her head to the side as the jet black missile cut through her mantle and scored her cheek. Pain spread from the wound, burning hot.

How fast did her heart beat.

With a skirling cry, ribbons lashed out, and Bao Qingling danced backward, balanced upon a nigh invisible thread, her arms blurring as she batted away the reaching blades of venomous steel. Though Bai Meizhen’s burning rain fell upon her, it affected her no more than mundane water, weighing her heavy clothing and soaking her hair. Yet the envenomed silk drank in the harmful properties of the rain, growing all the stronger for it.

It seemed that her companion's project truly was a success.

Bai Meizhen smiled, and a thunderclap split the air as her flying sword shot from the shadows, trailing rings of broken air. Bao Qingling let out a frustrated hiss through her teeth as she fell to the side, clinging to her thread by the bottom of her feet, wet hair dangling down as she scurried backward. Prismatic light gleamed, and the other girl vanished, reappearing crouched upon a thread further into the cavern.

Meizhen had long since given up on severing them all. The twin needles of carved red jade which were Bao Qingling’s own domain weapon spun them faster than they could be destroyed, and the weapons themselves were indestructible at her current strength.

Bai Meizhen advanced. Threads snapped beneath the bulk of her coils, and a score of arrays spun in thread flared, raining down silvery needles. The air howled as her ribbon blades batted them away by the dozen. More still impacted her mantle in clouds of sizzling spray and steam. Half a score, she caught and flung away, their venom doing little more than making her skin itch.

The rain ended, and she stood tall. Such was the way of a Bai, implacable, unmoved, imperious.

But Bao Qingling was gone again, vanishing back into her nest of webs.

Bai Meizhen advanced. With confirmation that her venomous rain would avail her not, she pulled back on the qi invested, and burning clouds and sizzling liquid alike spiraled down to shroud her ribbon blades. Flicking her wrist, meters-long lashes carved their way through the cavern, ripping trenches in stone and snapping threads.

Bai Meizhen peered into the nest of snapped and ruined webbing. There, a decoy, and there, another, and there… Bai Meizhen shrouded herself in a sphere of black water as crystal spikes erupted from the ground, blooming fractally with hundreds of spikes. Her tail lashed out, shattering them and launching her forward to where Bao Qingling even now crouched, ready against the far wall.

Bai Meizhen’s smile grew. She wanted to clash again, to feel Bao Qingling's breath on her face, to…

She felt a pressure and then a snap. At her waist, the torn ends of a single invisible thread curled away, crumbling into nothing. All around her, explosive arrays woven from crystal thread flared.

... Perhaps she had been a touch arrogant.

***

The cavern rocked with the roar of the explosion.

Let it not be said that the Bao clan library was useless to her. Millenia of experience in mining had led to a library of some of the most advanced blasting formations in the Empire. Some would call it crude, but to Bao Qingling, transforming the chaotic undirected power of an explosion into something shaped and controlled could only be called art.

She smiled thinly as she felt the ripple of surprise pass through the other girl’s qi. For any other disciple two steps beneath her, Eight Mantle Piercer charges would have been wasteful and excessive.

However, she was facing a Bai. To hold back was to lose.

Bai Qingling clung to her thread as the rush of waste heat flash-dried her clothing and hair and vaporized more than two-thirds of her web. She felt the rush of air rising from the molten stone of the crater, twelve meters square exactly, carved by the blast.

Force gathered in her legs, earthen qi resonating through her remaining threads. Stone splintered and then crumbled to powder as she launched herself down into the cloud of scalding steam. A mass of pale white waited for her there, ragged tatters of water qi, cool even now, clinging to her frame. The Bai was nearly unharmed by the blast itself, as expected given previous observations. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as the ribbons shifted, and crystal threads erupted from her clawed gloves, shielding her with crystal silk. It wouldn’t last more than a single blow, but it didn’t need to.

The points of her claws impacted Bai Meizhen’s throat in a spray of water, and the force of her charge slammed the girl backwards. Into the side of the crater she flew, and molten rock splashed outward, the solid stone behind that cracking as well, and only then did her foe let out a gasp of pain.

Bao Qingling felt her blades prick flesh. She twisted her wrist, letting her hand impart the rest of the force. Her feet finally touched the ground, and she loomed over the other girl, breathing heavily. This close, she could see Bai Meizhen clearly, even with her reduced acuity. Droplets of burning stone clung to Bai Meizhen’s gown and hair, sizzling faintly. She, too, was breathing heavily, her golden eyes wide.

Bao Qingling could feel her heartbeat. It was irregular. For a moment, concern that she had done serious harm skittered across her thoughts. No, she recalled, the oddity was just the three-chambered heart of a true blooded Bai in action. Bai Meizhen was fine. She had mild burns, a constricted and bruised windpipe, low blood toxicity, abrasions, and depleted qi; only light rest would be required.

The pale girl’s lips parted. It was strangely fascinating. “I yield.”

Bao Qingling blinked and then stiffened, pulling her face away from Bai Meizhen’s. Irritating. She was not a child to get lost on the roads of thought. She withdrew her hand from Bai Meizhen’s throat and straightened up, stepping back. “Accepted,” she said crisply.

The girl grimaced, prying herself out of the drying crater of liquid stone with a grimace. “Your project has been a complete success, it seems. My congratulations.”

Bao Qingling fingered the silken sleeve of her tunic. It had held up remarkably well, and the processed threads fed into her domain weapon even more so. Their resilience against toxins and corrosive qi was impressive. “Offensive use still requires testing.”

“Of course, but for that, you shall need other subjects,” Bai Meizhen said, brushing fingers through her own hair. “My own advantages would rather ruin the experiment.”

She would have to test this on beasts, or perhaps, she would have to offer Sect Points to an Outer Sect student. She would decide on that later.

Bao Qingling regarded Bai Meizhen silently, noting the discomfort radiating through her aura. “There are solutions for the removal of dried stone from hair. I have no objections to lending you a vial.”

“Are there? It is not something which has come up before,” Bai Meizhen said. “I would be thankful.”

Bao Qingling nodded sharply, turning to head for the exit. “It is useful. I keep it with my hygiene items, so we will need to return to my workshop. Unless you wish me to bring it to you.”

She still did not understand Bai Meizhen. The Bai scion’s actions remained confusing, and her goals mysterious. Bai’s assistance had shaved months off of her project however, and at this point, Bao Qingling no longer begrudged the girl for the favor she would no doubt ask in the future.

“I do not mind being your guest, if you will have me,” Bai Meizhen said serenely. Her heartbeat was still a touch faster than mere exertion would indicate. It was not in line with her normal pattern either. “Although, perhaps…”

Bao Qingling turned her head to “look” at Bai Meizhen. Uncertainty. That was unusual for her. Was that favor coming more quickly than she had thought? What could she possibly intend to ask that she was uncertain of? Bao Qingling felt cold.

“Would you care to come out with me for a tea after we have cleaned up?” Bai Meizhen asked, cutting off her thoughts at the root.

Bao Qingling nearly missed a step. Nonsensical. Completely nonsensical. She suspected the other girl was deliberately sowing confusion. She could not, even with the most robust of mental contortions, call that a favor. Even then, she was not going to be so rude as to refuse. “... Acceptable.”

Bai Meizhen was pleased at the answer. However, as they stepped through the partially melted entrance of the training ground, Bao Qingling was not. How could she be pleased when the assistance given to her was being valued so lowly?

“After, I would have you look through my project pieces. I will customize one for you,” Bao Qingling said shortly, deliberately looking ahead.

“You need not -” Bai Meizhen began.

“I want to,” she interrupted. Doing less was unacceptable. She did not accept charity.

“... Very well. I am sure it will be lovely,” Bai Meizhen said serenely. She seemed terribly pleased with herself. A deliberate manipulation?

Bao Qingling could not quite bring herself to care.

Threads 65-Foreshock 2

“I believe I could serve best in the defense of the river valley,” Ling Qi said as her turn to speak came around. “Given the wide area of effect which my arts have and my mobility, I will be able to effectively screen the outskirts of the valley for threats, and my spirits are more effective on the defense.”

She spoke as confidently as she could manage and felt a twinge of relief as Guan Zhi nodded once in agreement. “I find your assessment sound enough. Your post will be the southmost village then, Officer Ling. You will have a squad of six under your command in the region.”

Ling Qi stepped back, bowing in acceptance as others stepped up to make their cases. She did not know the other two commanders assigned to the village region, a pair of young men at the appraisal stage of the third realm. They were both older than her, but not excessively so. Her acquaintances from the Luo party ended up in different roles. Alingge was assigned as one of the two disciples serving directly under Guan Zhi while Sha Feng was assigned to the messenger cadre.

Once everyone had their assignments, they were dismissed to receive their dossiers on their subordinates and assigned regions from the Sect office. From there, they were off, separating into their regional groups. With a bit of quiet urging from Sixiang, Ling Qi made an effort to be sociable and learned the names of the two who would be in charge of the other villages. Wei Ping and Song Li were both sons of baronial families in their early twenties. They seemed confident and professional enough at first impression.

The journey south took them through thickly wooded hills, following a winding gravel road that threaded between the verdant hills. Though the distance would probably take a day or two for lower realms or mortals, for third realm cultivators, it was a matter of hours.

Soon, the river valley opened up before their eyes. The river wound like an azure ribbon down from the sky-blocking mountains of the Wall, and in the great cleft that it had carved in the land, people thrived. All along the length of the valley were fields and rice paddies, ordered shapes standing in contrast to the wilder regions around. Little houses and structures were scattered throughout the valley with humble homes of wood and rough quarried stone standing beside great carven totems that radiated qi, keeping the dangers of the woods at bay.

The villages themselves were tiny things, gatherings of a few dozen structures set on relative high ground to protect them from the river’s flooding. Each was home to no more than a couple hundred people with half again that number scattered through the farm houses and fields in their surroundings. Ling Qi bid farewell to her fellow disciples as they passed first village, and then the next, until she was alone, proceeding toward the final, most southerly of trio.

The last village was nestled along the river, straddling a stony ford where the river ran shallow. In the distance, she could see the faint silhouette of Icebreaker Peak, named for the way it broke the cold winds blowing north on its flank. The slopes of the valley were wide and gentle as the river bent east. Here, she met the scouts who would be under her command, a pair of second realm veterans and four first realm recruits drawn from the region. If she were honest with herself, she still felt uncomfortable with the overawed deference of the first realms; the professional manner of the veterans was much more agreeable.

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, she spent a short time listening to reports on recent issues that had cropped up at the outskirts of the village: a few hungry wolves, some blockages in the river, and a minor disease spirit found festering in a marshy stretch of river. All of the issues had been taken care of in the last day or two, save for the disease spirit, but such a thing would be easily dealt with by a cultivator of her calibre.

Once she had confirmed their patrol routes, a formality considering that the routes were set by the regional commander, Ling Qi set off to do just that, in the brief window of time before she was due to meet with the main force officer, who had not yet arrived. As she suspected, handling the disease spirit was not a difficult task. Between Zhengui’s vital presence flushing the creature out and Ling Qi’s own Hoarfrost Refrain technique, the minor spirit was quickly destroyed. Upon returning to the village, Ling Qi found herself surprised once more.

“So diligent,” Gu Xiulan said with a smirk as she greeted her on the path outside the village. “Going out to perform your duties before I even had a chance to arrive.”

“There is no point in wasting time,” Ling Qi retorted. “I admit, I was not expecting to see you assigned here. I thought you would want a more forward position.”

Xiulan’s smirk faded at Ling Qi’s observation, and she let out a frustrated huff. “Yes, well, it was determined that my qi would be too disruptive to the spirits of Icebreaker Peak, and I was hardly going to accept a soft assignment at the other mountain. At least I will see some action here.”

While Ling Qi didn’t disagree with her conclusion, she did give her friend a worried look. While she would not have thought to question it before, her recent experience with that Bai and the bandits had changed her view on just how difficult real battle could be in comparison to the structured duels in the Sect. “I am glad to have you. Do you think you’re prepared for a real battle though?” Ling Qi asked in a low voice, relying on Sixiang to keep their conversation discreet.

“Of course I am.” Her friend gave her a genuinely hurt look, and Ling Qi regretted her question. “Hmph, I will forgive you, if only because I know your sincerity.”

Ling Qi smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry, I guess I was just thinking of how things were for me.”

“I said I forgave you,” Xiulan sniffed. “In any case, I suppose I will see you around. I will ensure that there is tea out when you come to give me your reports.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Ling Qi replied. “I am glad to have someone reliable at my back.”

“Obviously,” her friend smirked. “Now, off with you. I must make sure the rabble I have been assigned is in good discipline.”

Ling Qi nodded to her friend as they parted ways, turning back to head for the scouting outpost that served as her command center. However, before she arrived and began to plan how she would handle things in the coming days, she had something more personal to attend to. Finding a lightly wooded and unsettled copse along the rim of the valley, Ling Qi let her spirits out of her dantian.

“Ugh, finally,” Hanyi said, stretching her arms overhead. “Riding around all day is so boring.”

“Hanyi should complain less,” Gui said sleepily as he got his legs under him, rising to tower over the rest of them.

“Easy for you to say,” the young ice spirit sniffed. “You just sleep, you big lummox. Well, we did get to have some fun and get a little snack.”

“Mph, bad taste,” Zhen grumbled with none of his usual affected pomp or dignity.

Ling Qi thought back to the thoroughly churned up marsh and Hanyi happily consuming the qi and heat of diseased animals until they were no more than inert lumps of frozen meat. At least Hanyi’s method was less messy than Zhengui’s. “I’m sure we can find you something good in the future,” she said, reaching up to rest her hand on Zhengui’s shell. “For now, is everyone feeling alright?”

“Worrywort,” Sixiang laughed on the wind. “Like any of us are going to get sick from a little baby spirit like that.”

“Yeah, auntie is right for once,” Hanyi said. “Big Sis worries too much.”

“Brat,” Sixiang grumbled, though Ling Qi could tell that the spirit was only pretending to be annoyed by the new nickname Hanyi had started to use for them.

“Gui definitely feels good,” her little brother rumbled cheerfully.

“Yes, weak little sick demon cannot infect I, Zhen,” his other half agreed.

“Right,” Ling Qi shook her head. “Anyway, we need to talk. I am going to need everyone’s help to make sure this goes well. That means certain people need to behave.” She added the last with a sharp look to Hanyi. The young ice spirit returned her gaze with the most innocent expression that she could muster. If Ling Qi had not known her, she might even have bought it.

“Yes! I will keep all the bad people and beasts away from the nice humans!” Gui’s emphatic declaration caused her to break her staring contest with Hanyi, who herself gave Zhengui an outraged look.

“You weren’t asleep at all!” she complained.

“Not the whole time,” Zhen admitted. “But we must pay attention to Big Sister.”

<These kids,> Sixiang snorted in amusement, their words echoing in and with Ling Qi’s own thoughts.

“That is the general idea, yes,” Ling Qi said, ignoring the whole aside for the moment. “But Zhengui, you will have to be careful. If you don’t watch your steps, you could damage the farms and then the people won’t have food.”

“Gui will be careful,” her little brother agreed swiftly.

She studied him for a moment. As with her outing with Bao Qian, Zhengui was eager, almost painfully so. She was glad that she had chosen a role that would give him something concrete to do. “Good, because I am going to trust you to do something on your own. Zhengui, while we are out here, I want you to walk around the edge of the farmland. You have to keep anything bad away.”

“Hmph, a trivial task,” Zhen preened.

“But don’t be afraid to signal me,” she admonished before he could brag too much. “Like we practised, alright?”

While his accuracy with his molten missiles was still a little lacking at distance, the flare of qi was a powerful and noticeable one, especially in the cool, wet environment of the river valley. She reminded herself to discuss the signal with Xiulan when they took tea this evening.

“What’ll I be doing?” Hanyi asked curiously. “Am I gonna go with the big doof to keep him out of trouble?”

Ling Qi gave Hanyi a look. While she trusted Hanyi when it counted, she did not trust that the young spirit would not get distracted and end up playing tricks and pranks if left to her own devices. “You are going to stay with me. You’re going to be my messenger,” she said sweetly. She knew Hanyi well enough that locating the spirit with her divination technique was easy. Using Hanyi, she could quickly pass messages over a pretty wide area.

Though she knew it was not a new concept given the Ministry of Communications’ existence, she was rather proud of having found a good use for something as simple as the Initiate’s Viewing Pool technique. She would have to adjust the relay points for her subordinates to take it into account.

So, with her plans in mind, Ling Qi set about establishing her command’s deployment. After some deliberation, she assigned one of the two veterans under her command to deal with putting together the reports and such at the command center while she took over the man’s own routes. She kept in contact with headquarters via the Viewing Pool technique and used Hanyi to stay in regular contact with the other scouts.

Every time her routes took her back near the village, she would look in on Zhengui. Her little brother seemed to be enjoying himself stomping around the edge of the valley, and Zhen in particular preened under the awed attention of the farmers who spied him. It probably didn’t help that after the first day, people were leaving out small offerings for him.

In the evenings, she would listen to the reports of the man she had put in charge of assembling reports, read through his work, and head into the village to share information with Xiulan before beginning her night route. Things very swiftly began to fall into a routine.

That was not to say that there were not moments of excitement. On the second day, a trio of glider-mounted tribesmen had appeared below the cloudline en route to one of the outlying farmhouses, but a molten shot fired from Zhengui had scattered them, and they fled back above the clouds. Here and there, some beast or spirit would slither through the patrols and make trouble.

However, on the fourth day, something unusual happened. As Ling Qi flowed through the trees like a shadow, alternatively flying or springing weightlessly from branch to branch, the earth shook. It lasted only a moment, and it was not strong, only a momentary tremble that set the trees swaying and the qi of the earth stirring chaotically. It seemed to come from the south, but worrying as it was, a quick check in with the outpost showed nothing immediately amiss, and so Ling Qi continued her path.

However, soon after, she paused when she felt a familiar presence coming from the south. Sure enough, Sha Feng, the young man she had hunted the mirage lion with, came bounding and gliding over the treetops, a pair of brightly painted silk fans in his hands. Though the fans did not let him fly, the wind gusts they made certainly made his jumps count.

She waited as their eyes met, and he bounded down, landing atop a branch within shouting distance. “Lady Ling,” he greeted in a hurried tone. “I have been charged with informing the officers that a troublesome occurrence has happened on Icebreaker Peak. A deadly spirit has been awakened. Lieutenant Liao and the other officers are currently engaging it, but they believe it will take some time to subdue.”

Ling Qi’s eyes widened marginally. A spirit that Senior Brother Liao could not immediately subdue must be very dangerous. “I hear you, Sect Brother,” she said formally. “Do we need to send aid?”

He shook his head. “No, but know that reinforcements from the mountain will be unavailable, and prepare your command for the land to be stirred up in the south. Please excuse me, Miss Ling. I must continue spreading the message.”

Ling Qi nodded sharply, and he was off again. At her side, Hanyi gave her a curious look.

“Are you worried about the mask guy?” Hanyi asked her guilelessly.

Ling Qi shook her head but did drop down from the branches, heading for a nearby pond. “Sect Brother Liao will be fine, but I have a bad feeling. Let’s return to the outpost and make sure everyone knows.”

A short time later, she arrived to find the outpost quite lively. Messenger cranes fluttered in and out of the entrance at a furious pace. When she stepped inside, she arrived to see the soldier she had left at the command center looking harried as he scribbled out another message on formation paper.

“Ma’am.” He stood up and bowed as she stepped in. There was a touch of relief on the middle-aged man’s features. “I am glad my message reached you. There is a situation. One of the outriders in the northwestern village spotted several tribesmen with bonded mounts below the cloudline to our west. Shortly thereafter, the northeastern village reported something similar. They are requesting support.”

Bonded mounts meant that they were at least second realm, Ling Qi thought. “Unfortunately, I did not receive your message. I returned because a messenger informed me that the spirits of the land are likely to become agitated due to a battle on Icebreaker Peak,” she said.

The veteran scout looked like he had bitten into something sour, and it was only his discipline that kept him from swearing. “Reinforcements will be out of the question then, ma’am?”

“None from the south,” she agreed with a nod. Looking out through the south-facing window, she could see the claw-like shadow of the mountain. As she did, another tremor ran through the ground.

Threads 66-Foreshock 3

Ling Qi flew, clouds streaking by overhead and the earth blurring away beneath. The wind did not touch her, did not tug at her hair or snap the hems of her gown, and the fur-lined cloak that hung about her shoulders did not so much as ripple in the breeze. She flew in utter silence, a streak of grey and black across the sky, no more than a passing shadow.

Where her passage was silent and tranquil though, her thoughts churned. Despite her sureness that this was the right decision, doubt gnawed at her. Faced with potential barbarian raids to the north and spirit attacks from the south, she had judged the potential barbarian raids a greater threat. She had checked the wards on the village herself and had left her command and Zhengui behind, alerted to the danger and instructed to cooperate with Xiulan, while she abused her greater mobility to assist the other two villages in the river valley.

Yet how could she do anything but trust them? She could not be everywhere, could not clutch everything close and never let go. That was the lesson she had learned from Zeqing. She could not let fear command her responses. That was the lesson she had learned from the dream. So Ling Qi flew on and fixed Zhengui’s determination and Xiulan’s confidence in her thoughts.

Sixiang chuckled, the muse’s voice a tickling whisper in her ear. “It’s not like you left them behind to face an army.”

“You know as well as I do that something is wrong here,” Ling Qi murmured back. She faced ahead, silver light flickering in the whites of her eyes as she scanned the rushing landscape and the churning clouds. The sky was beginning to darken, a harbinger of rain, but whether it was natural or barbarian sorcery, Ling Qi could not say. “The timing of barbarians being spotted at just the right time...”

“You're not wrong,” Sixiang murmured, but Ling Qi appreciated the attempt at comfort all the same.

<We’ll just have to kill them and go back quick. It’ll be easy for Sis,> Hanyi said arrogantly from within her dantian.

Ling Qi smiled wanly at the young spirit’s vote of confidence but spoke no more. She could see the lines of the second village on the horizon, as well as the smoke rising in tiny plumes and the dots swooping through the sky. She could not yet pick out the details, but violence was in the air. She could sense the qi of her peers and the barbarians. As she had guessed, it was no mere rabble of second realms; there were three - no, four - third realms or higher presences, the last lurking up in the clouds, muted and almost hidden from her senses.

As she flew toward the battle, Ling Qi’s gaze flashed over the burning thatch, set alight by lightning strikes, the paddies churned by panicked flight and conflict, and the first and second realm soldiers running to and fro, battling the rain of arrows that fell from the sky, giving mortals time to flee. In the distance, she sensed one of her peers, clashing with a barbarian of equal stature, and on the road, her senses brushed over a familiar presence.

Shen Hu stood in the middle of the road that wound through the fields, an open tunnel yawning from the earth behind him. People fled inside, men and women, young and old, some carrying children or precious belongings. In a circle stretching around him for hundreds of meters around, stones and pebbles rose in their thousands, reshaped into shielding hands, open palms that darted through the air, batting away the arrows that fell upon fleeing civilians. Above him, the rude slab of stone that was his domain weapon shook and smoked as a screaming missile, a vortex of churning cutting air that howled like a damned soul, slammed down upon it. The sight was not unique; the air was filled with screaming missiles, arrows that formed the air into spinning funnels of death that howled as they fell.

Ling Qi saw where they had fallen unblocked. She saw the ruins of a house, its roof gone and walls blown outward by a blast, and the body of the woman lying face down in the mud, wooden shrapnel in her back. She saw the blood pooled in muddy craters slowly filling with water where the defenders had been too slow. Ling Qi saw and remembered a nightmare of fur and teeth, of screams and bloody bones, gnawed and cast aside.

She turned her gaze toward the swooping gliders and galloping horses with their ruddy fur and blood damp manes, and her eyes and heart were cold.

“Ling Qi…” Sixiang’s sad whisper was a distant thing, something she had no time to acknowledge.

She raised her flute to her lips, and even as the melancholy melody poured forth and the world was consumed in dark and hungry mist, she released her ironclad grip on her qi. There was satisfaction in seeing heads turn in her direction and the alarm in their eyes as the churning mist spread, a vast and terrible wave pouring from the sky. The edges of her form wavered; she felt her feet trail off into black mist and the hem of her cloak dissolve into shadow as dark qi flooded her meridians, her techniques activating one after another. Silvery eyes nestled in the folds of her robe, and for a moment, she saw herself, a wraith with eyes of flickering silver and glacier blue shrouded in mist and night. Lines and veins of emerald power pulsed and throbbed in the folds of her gown like shadows in negative, and where she passed, rain became snow and sleet.

Tribesmen wheeled in the air and fled before her mist toward the cloudline where their leaders waited. Her mist rolled over mortals and soldiers alike, but no horrors waited in the mist for them to claw and bite, and no cutting cold chilled their flesh. For those below her, there was only the melancholy melody of the vale and the cold and distant song of the frozen peak.

As Ling Qi at last crossed over the road, she was finally able to take her enemies into account. She could sense them scattered throughout the farmland, harassing and harrying soldiers and civilians. There were over a hundred tribesmen, grouped in little packs; most were first realms, but she could feel at least a score of second realms, most of which were gathering about the two third realms who had pulled up near the belly of the clouds, concern visible in the fluctuations of their auras.

It was difficult to pick out the exact stage of the third realms as she could not tell where the barbarian ended and the beast began, but there was also something strange in the air, a subtle static that made the hair on the back of Ling Qi’s neck rise. Her gaze rose to darkening rainclouds where she sensed the hidden, fourth presence, a smudge on her senses that set her on edge.

Further out, she could sense one of her fellow scout officers she had come out with still clashing with, or rather, being harried by, a third barbarian presence and a half dozen second realms. This was the strength of the cloud tribesmen, the supremacy of the skies over the lower realms. Had Ling Qi not herself used that much to her advantage in the past?

It was unfortunate for them that the Lady Duchess and her apprentices had begun to neutralize that strength. One way or another, she would make them regret having come here. She glanced down and met Shen Hu’s gaze on the ground far below. With her mist keeping the tribesmen’s archers at bay, his evacuation was going much more smoothly. Already, she could sense most of the villagers traveling beneath the earth back toward the stone walls of the village center and the earthen shelters that she knew lay below it.

A moment of silent communication passed, and he dipped his head, his domain weapon rising to interpose itself between them. He was the shield then, and she, the spear. At her shoulder, the mist churned, and a second voice joined her song as a spiral blade emerged. Of late, her domain weapon’s song was no longer so discordant, and the melody of the vale rang clear from the blade, echoing her as though from far away and deep underground.

Ling Qi would not allow the barbarians time to think or time to regroup. They had the numbers, but whatever others said, Ling Qi had seen how useless numbers were against her. When she had assaulted those bandits, it had only been the interference of a higher cultivator that was a threat. Here and now, she could drive them back and force them to scatter; if the barbarians retreated, it would be all the better. The unknown presence in the clouds worried her, but fighting defensively would not save her if the third presence was strong enough to overwhelm.

Ling Qi darted forward, dragging the massive bank of fog and mist that poured from her flute with each note along. Behind her, she felt Shen Hu shift focus from defense, the earth rippling under the feet of villagers and soldiers alike to speed their retreat to the tunnels he had made. Many hundreds of meters ahead of her, the main body of barbarians and the scattered bands of first realms wheeled and retreated, galloping or flying away from the advancing wall of mist and fog.

The wind howled as Ling Qi felt the barbarians activate their techniques, dozens upon dozens resonating and boosting one another far beyond the normal capacity of their realm. Even so, some were far out of position and about to be overrun by her mist, but gusts of wind snatched a few of those, flinging them away from her mist as if hurled by a giant. The horsemen unleashed a volley of whirling vortexes, and although they did not hurt her, they did slightly slow her down.

Not all could escape, however. Young men in their heavy furs and masks screamed as her mist phantoms tore at them, leaving them spinning out of control in the eddies of her mist, fighting fruitlessly against the illusory nightmares Ling Qi had conjured. They were easy pickings for her Singing Mist Blade to strike, its echoing song the last thing they heard.

However, the tribesmen were not nearly as disordered by her charge as Ling Qi had hoped. Unlike the bandits, there was no breakdown of order and panic as she began to actively move against them. Her eyes flew wide open as the mass of fleeing horsemen in the sky suddenly wheeled with unerring organization, splitting into two wings to flank her. At the front edge of each realm were their second realms, formed up on their respective third realm leaders, with first realms on gliders forming a trailing flock on their formation. Even avoiding her top speed charge, they managed this organization, and as Ling Qi prepared her next technique, she felt her enemies’ qi flare as one.

The short horn bows in the hands of two score first realms fired, launching their wielders backward at great speed with a faint rumble of thunder, carried out and away from her mist by churning currents which origin she could not pinpoint. The missiles flew wildly through her mist, sparking and rumbling, and what few approached her by chance passed through her wraithlike form or shattered against her gown. Worse was the lightning that arced between bolts, boiling away mist and stinging her flesh. The longer bows of twelve horsemen thundered next, and the screaming winds that shrouded the missiles flowed and merged until three massive vortices of wind bore down on her.

Shadow trailed from her limbs as she darted through the first, spiralled around the second, and slapped aside the third with a spinning kick that sent the hem of her gown fluttering as the churning qi construct shattered under her will. Emerging from the volley with only a few painful cuts from the slashing wind of the broken techniques, she saw that the tribesmen had gained distance in even those few moments where she had been stymied. A flight of gliders had darted below, sweeping beneath her mist, while another went high above, skimming the belly of the clouds. Two smaller groups swooped through the skies to her left and right.

Ling Qi hesitated, unsure of how best to deter the various bands of first realms from harassing her allies, but before she could so much as think, a blinding bolt, a meter-wide jagged lance of lightning, boomed through her, impaling her through the chest. Ling Qi narrowed her eyes, black mist wafting from her limbs and hair as the image she had left behind dissolved into fog and shadow, and felt the pulse as a crackling sphere of snapping lightning shot through her mist, lighting the dark interior and shredding phantoms as it tore toward her. When it detonated a moment later, she emerged, emerald light flaking away as the remainder of her Deepwood Vitality technique faded.

Ling Qi made a snap decision. The pack of horsemen before her were the real threat. She could not get distracted chasing down first realms; Shen Hu and the soldiers would have to handle the gliders. If she swerved to catch them, the main group would gain more room to maneuver, possibly even circling around her themselves. So Ling Qi flew forward again, driving the main force back. They were afraid to enter her mist. She could use that.

The ensuing seconds were a blur. The air around her grew cold and heavy, echoing with the melody of winter and stealing the energy from lightning and wind alike, strengthened by the accompaniment of a melancholy muse. Her foes refused to oblige. Their command of the wind resonated between them, and men who strayed too close to her mist were swiftly dragged back by whipping currents of air.

It was frustrating. Even if driving them back was part of the plan, their battle had moved more than a kilometer, and Ling Qi had yet to land a decisive blow. On the other hand, she was now much closer to the beleaguered scout officer, and she could sense that he had changed tactics, falling back toward her, clearly able to sense her unfettered qi. Still, she had to keep the main force occupied, and it did not sit right with her that the barbarians were yet unscathed. So when the next bolt of lightning forked through her mist, Ling Qi stared it down. She had a plan. She had mastered the Sable Crescent Step art, and although it cost a great deal of qi, she could, if only for a moment, render the distance irrelevant.

As the heavenly energies exploded within her mist, her whole form became black, a silhouette like a hole in the world, and she moved. In a single step, she crossed the distance between herself and the line of horsemen, leaving the ground far behind. She met the wide eyes of the third realm who was now only a few meters from her and played the Hoarfrost Refrain. Fog and moisture froze for tens of meters around, and horses reared and screamed.

But the absolute cold carried upon the melody from her flute met with a tempest of heated wind as the two barbarian raid leaders simultaneously let out guttural shouts, It was the summer sun shining on high mountains, life giving warmth in the depths of high clouds, and Ling Qi found her technique foiled. Parts of the horses’ bloody manes froze and shattered, and flesh blackened, burned by the terrible cold, but as Ling Qi flitted away from the rearing red furred horse of the third realm, none of the barbarians had fallen.

Still, although her retaliatory strike had failed, the barbarians were now in her mist. All around her, horses whinnied in rage and fright as they were assailed from all sides by shadowy phantoms in the shape of birds of prey.

A cage of light sought to pierce her from all sides, but her liege was far more effective at such tactics. Mere lightning could not match the scouring light of Cai, and she reflexively activated her defensive technique. Emerald radiance shattered as heavenly energy crashed down, leaving her unharmed, and she moved like smoke through the arrows that followed, doggedly following the barbarians as they continued to retreat.

The sharp-eyed tribesmen showed no trouble in navigating her mist, much to her annoyance. She could sense the woven strands of qi resonating from each of the riders to enhance the others, weak effects building and building upon each other until even the second realms could do so. However, that was not her only tool any longer.

In her thoughts, Hanyi giggled excitedly as the young spirit sensed Ling Qi’s intentions, and a light weight settled on her back. A new voice joined her performance, sweet and childish. One of the riders faltered in his saddle mid turn, falling out of line with the others, his eyes wide and entranced behind his mask. Then in the moment where he flew too far, leaving the safety of his band, Ling Qi pulsed her qi through the roiling mist, and it swallowed him up, the mournful dirge of the elegy leaving the man lost and alone. Cut off from his allies, he and his steed slowed to a crawl and barely managed to react before her Singing Mist Blade carved open his horse’s throat, leaving him to fall to his death.

Overhead, thunder boomed, and the strain of music emerged from the clouds.

Pride of dragons, so easily led.

67-Foreshock 4

Ling Qi’s eyes snapped upward, a familiar feeling of pure expression grabbing her attention. Rain began to pour, and deep within the darkening clouds, thunder rumbled, indistinguishable from the beat of drums. Above, the cloud-wracked sky tore open, unleashing a torrential downpour.

None of that noise succeeded in muffling her mournful and lethal melody. However, the song that echoed down from those clouds was not drowned out as well, and it clashed with hers. Deep, guttural, and strangely resonant, the foreign words wove a song of storms and violence, determination, and retribution. Against the pouring rain, the ragged leading edge of her mist flowed and deformed as if it had met a mountainside, and Ling Qi felt her qi straining against the will that suffused the rain.

Through the storm, she spied her last opponent. Tall even for a barbarian and with a thick cloak of black and grey fur around his arms and shoulders, the tribesman’s mask was more ornate than the others, and his helm carried a plume of crimson horsehair. He rode a powerful stallion whose black hooves sparked electricity as they struck the air. In his hands was a two-stringed instrument, a primitive erhu. Even as she took it in, he drew the bow across the string, a sharp note ringing out in time with his voice, and lightning flashed. The men fleeing her mist let out a ragged cheer, raising their voices to join his refrain.

This man… Was he a shaman? It did not seem quite right, but this was probably the overall commander of this band of raiders.

She felt Hanyi shift on her back, no words needing to be spoken as her spirit shifted from the enticing melody of the lonely maiden to the cold aria, layering the effects with Ling Qi’s own. Their voices echoed from the depths of winter until the very air itself around her stilled, made lethargic by the cold. The high, cold song of the frozen vale met a song of stolid, unbreakable mountains stretching up into the infinite sky.

There are only endings here. Flee. Flee and live. Winter is here. The warmth of the hearth is not for you.

Unbroken, we ride. Spawn of dragons so filled with pride, you will see that you still bleed. Your peace is a lie and your safety a ruse.

Brigands out in the cold, so far and alone. Ragged breaths and frozen lungs await, a death so lonely and far from home.

Let winter rage and rage, we together and you alone. Ten strike as thunder, and one hundred the storm.

There were no words - she could not speak the tribesman’s tongue and the noise of battle would have drowned them out regardless - but music was speech without speech, without the impurity of words. His song was foreign to her, but some understanding was inevitable, and she was certain that it was the same for him.

Ling Qi dove into the teeth of his rain, downpour and fog mingling and clashing chaotically as their techniques struggled against one another. The twang of so many bowstrings rung in her ears like the thunder above, arrowheads charged with heavenly lightning fell like raindrops.

As lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, she bore down on one of the two raid leaders, and in the space between raindrops, she vanished from sight and memory alike, a forgotten phantom. She had not yet fully mastered the Ephemeral Night’s Memory art, but its technique was enough for this.

The unfortunate third realm war leader she had chosen could not so much as raise his arm in defense before she played the Hoarfrost Refrain, her voice joined with the young spirit on her back. She felt the man’s flesh blacken and freeze, and his mount screamed in pain as veins froze and ruptured. Yet her attack did not go without reply.

The twang of strings was overlaid with a deepthroated song, and Ling Qi found herself buffeted by a tempest, tossed like a leaf on the wind despite her efforts. Emerald light encased Hanyi and Ling Qi both, keeping them from the worst of harm, but they were disoriented by the storm. Men drew back bows and for the first time, the galloping horses of the main force slowed, and the twang of bowstrings echoed with the furious cries of their steeds. Ling Qi did not react in time as half a score of arrows shrouded in shrieking wind and crackling lightning struck as one.

She felt cutting wind slice across her cheek and a bone arrow slice through her gown, cutting through flesh and rebounding off the bone of her ribs, and she threw up a hand, a bolt of lightning striking her palm as she desperately threw her qi into a veil of rippling green that shimmered across her and Hanyi both. The combined force of the tribesmen’s techniques flung her back a hundred meters and more through the pouring rain as they regrouped. She glared up through the storm at the musician, feeling his strength flowing through the rain, resonating from each voice raised to join his chant.

Ling Qi felt the state of the battle overall as well as she could. Far in the distance, she spotted her counterpart bounding through the trees, slumped on the back of a bounding stag. Blood soaked through his pants on one leg, and he clutched his bow tightly in burnt fingers. There were two second realms chasing him and a third realm lagging behind, but even they were half-heartedly doing so.

In the village, she spotted the soldiers fighting. No longer disorganized and desperate, small squads were arranged along the walls and the tunnel mouths, batting away harassing arrows while their own archers returned fire at circling gliders. Shen Hu stood near the center of the conflict, his qi spreading in ripples through the earth and fields and up through soldiers’ feet to stiffen their resolve and endurance. Sharpened shards of rock crystal fired into the sky in endless volleys, preventing the gliders from approaching the village proper, and the few fires that had started within the walls were already being quelled.

The village was safe, but all around, farms burned, unhindered by the rain, and crops withered. The first realms she had scattered were wreaking havoc across the abandoned fields, and the torrential downpour flooded out neatly laid ditches and dikes.

So fragile, the rain seemed to whisper, full of self satisfaction. Ling Qi scowled up at the musician, recognizing the taunt for what it was. The tenor of his song was changing. Gliders spiralled upward on thermals of wind rising from the fires and scattered into the clouds. The raiders were retreating, or so it seemed. It looked like she had succeeded, so why did she feel so frustrated?

Looking north, there was not yet any sign of reinforcements. Unless things were far more dire than they seemed, the Sect should be mobilizing, but they were on their own for a while yet. She glared at the retreating rainstorm, discontent welling in her heart at the inconclusive outcome of the clash. The taunt hung on the wind, stinging her pride. She knew what she wanted to do, but Commander Guan Zhi’s words of warning stayed her pursuit. She turned her eyes away and began to soar in a curving line out and away from the village.

“Eh, Big Sis, where are you going?” Hanyi asked, still clinging tightly to her back. The young spirit was unharmed, Ling Qi’s defensive techniques enough to keep her safe from any collateral.

“They’re retreating. That’s good enough for now,” Ling Qi replied. The wound in her side throbbed, but the blood was already clotting, blood dissipating into black mist. “Talk later, Hanyi.” The words came out more clipped than she had intended.

Hanyi let out an indignant huff, but for once, she didn’t talk back as she dissolved back into Ling Qi’s dantian.

<You’re doing the right thing,> Sixiang whispered in her thoughts.

Ling Qi wasn’t so sure, but she appreciated Sixiang’s vote of confidence. Her eyes fell on her target, the other scout officer. The landscape blurred beneath her as she flew toward his position, and the last of his pursuers peeled off, wheeling away to follow their fellows in retreat.

It took her a second to recall his name, but they had spoken briefly on the way here. “Wei Ping!” she called, and her voice carried through the mist, echoing on the wind and through the lingering melody of her song. As her mist engulfed him, she wove her qi so that it did not hinder his sight, and the young man’s eyes lit up as he saw her outstretched hand.

She swooped low, and he reached up, clasping her forearm as the stag he was riding dissolved mid leap, its qi streaming back into his dantian. “My thanks, Lady Ling!” he called, hanging tightly to her arm as she began to make the turn back toward the village.

“Officer is more appropriate right now,” Ling Qi said dryly. Although her eyes remained on the village, shimmering silver orbs in her robe watched the retreating shadow of the barbarian storm.

“Perhaps,” he grumbled. It was almost comical, seeing him dangling from her arm like a leaf fluttering in the high wind. “I hope you will accept the sentiment regardless. Without your intervention, I do not think my path would have opened. I owe you a debt.”

“It is nothing,” Ling Qi dismissed, burned and ruined farms flashed by beneath them. Ahead, the walls of the village seemed terribly small. “I was only performing my duty.”

“All the same, my words remain,” he said stubbornly. She glanced down, studying him. Wei Ping was an average sort, handsome as most cultivators of the third realm were, but little about him stood out to her. Still, she had just been forcibly reminded that even first realms could be relevant on the field of battle. It seemed foolish to dismiss his gratitude.

“I will accept them then.” She had an odd sense of deja vu, as if she had engaged in a similar exchange before, but she shook it off. It was difficult to think about politics, surrounded by devastation.

By the time she arrived near Shen Hu, her mist was beginning to fade away, mingling and dispersing with the smoke from burning fields. Shen Hu stood upon a patch of bubbling mud some hundred meters outside of the village’s gates, his hands clasped flat together. His hands and forearms gleamed with a shell of black diamond. Ling Qi could sense his qi thrumming through the earth, as well as that of his spirit beast. It suffused even the clay brick wall which surrounded the village proper, flowed through the soldiers who manned the walls and who were withdrawing in wary packs from the fields.

“You’ve gotten even more scary,” Shen Hu commented as she sank down toward the earth in front of him. His half-closed eyelids fluttered like a person in the midst of a dream.

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ling Qi said with a touch of fatigue. As they neared the ground, Wei Ping released his grip on her arm, dropping the last few meters and landing gingerly on one foot. “Your techniques have evolved as well.”

“Decided being a duelist wasn’t as important, Tournament’s over,” he replied. He still sounded distant and distracted. She could see why. Three great rings of stones orbited the perimeter of the village, some the size of a man’s heads while others were the size of a fist or even mere pebbles. She could sense the anticipative energy in them, quivering with the impulse to react and punish attackers.

“An impressive technique.” Wei Ping grimaced, glancing toward the walls. “I feel somewhat inadequate if I must be honest.”

“Wouldn’t have had time to start evacuating without your warning,” Shen Hu disagreed.

“I would not have been here either,” Ling Qi allowed. “Speaking of which, the other village requested aid too. I think I should go and aid them as well.”

“Then go. Everyone is inside now,” Shen Hu said. His slack expression grew dark. “I will not break.”

It was that kind of attitude that worried her, Ling Qi thought irritably. She remembered well the outcome of that awful dream. Her stomach churned with worry. Worry that the barbarians would return here. Worry that Zhengui and Xiulan were in mortal danger. Worry that she could end up leaving another village to die.

“Do not tarry on our account, Officer Ling,” Wei Ping said, moving gingerly toward the gates. “You are among the swiftest of us, and I cannot imagine the barbarians could have slipped very much more around here without alerting the Sect as a whole.”

Ling Qi felt a moment of indecision but then nodded sharply. “I will check the northeastern village first then. Please let any messengers know my position.”

“We’ll do it. Stay safe,” Shen Hu replied.

With no more time to spend on pleasantries, Ling Qi flew.

Swiftly, the walls of the village vanished behind her, and the wind shrieked with her passage. Only the knowledge that more fighting likely lay ahead kept her from pouring on more speed through her techniques.

<Why aren’t we going to check on Zhengui?> Hanyi asked quietly.

Ling Qi paused before answering. “Because he is strong enough. I have to trust him.”

Ling Qi might not care for anyone in this northeastern village personally, but some small part of her, the part that sat up and listened when Cai Renxiang spoke of duty, would not be satisfied with leaving them to potential death. Perhaps it was arrogant, but she knew Zhengui’s strength, and she knew Xiulan’s strength. She did not know the strength of the disciples stationed there.

<I don’t care about them though,> Hanyi sulked.

<Not a whole lot of good options,> Sixiang chuckled weakly. <I hate this though.>

Ling Qi dipped her head in acknowledgement of Sixiang’s words. The muse was not a creature of violence. Even Ling Qi, with her blood no longer pounding in her ears, just felt tired and disgusted.

Ling Qi breathed deeply, taking a hold of her qi and diffusing the dense energy. A moment later, the shrieking wind stopped as she dove into dancing shadows of the canopy below. As she began to approach the village, Ling Qi found her fears and hopes alike unrealized. The village was very much not safe. Smoke rose from the fields and homes scattered throughout the valley, and the silhouettes of gliders and horsemen circled in the sky, raining arrows down upon the village’s defenders. However, the concentration of force was low in comparison to the band of raiders she had faced at the northwestern village. She felt only a single third realm here, high in the clouds, and could sense the web of energies resonating between him and his subordinates.

Of his subordinates, there was only a little over a score of first realms and a half dozen seconds scattered around the perimeter of the village. They hemmed in the soldiers within the village, preventing them from aiding the people she could still feel out in the fields, hounded and harried by barbarian gliders. The soldiers of the Sect fought back with discipline, but they were outnumbered with only two full squads manning the walls and returning fire. She could not feel the qi of her fellow officers anywhere, and that was more than a little worrying.

Hidden in the shadows cast by the dark clouds that churned overhead, drizzling a miserable rain, Ling Qi considered the scene. She could feel the presence of other soldiers and scouts scattered far away. She could imagine her fellow scout officer falling, caught by a sudden concerted attack while on the outskirts, but could the disciple manning the village have really fallen so easily too?

Either way, she needed to even the odds and scatter the barbarians before she could investigate, and she had learned better than to go openly in doing so. There would be no pride here. Ling Qi darted out of the shadows, invisible and intangible, leaping from tree shade to glider shadow. She spiralled up into the sky, using the barbarians themselves as stepping stones to rise higher and higher still until the clouds themselves could swallow her presence.

Swiftly, she closed in on the barbarian raid leader, whose mount cantered impatiently beneath him as he observed the battlefield. The tribesman was flanked by two second realm riders, but these were not so prepared as their fellows in the other raid., As she slipped silently into the leader’s shadow, there was no response. There wouldn’t be one if she had anything to say about it. She had neither the time nor the inclination for mercy.

In her thoughts, Hanyi giggled in anticipation, and Sixiang let out a weary sigh. The masked tribesman, sitting tall on his bloody maned mount, could only flinch as she materialized behind him, already playing the first notes of the Refrain of deepest winter. It was the howl of a blizzard and the crumbling of a glacier wrought into sound, and it struck the three tribesmen with titanic force. Unable to react, the scream of one of the two second realms died in his throat, and he and his frozen mount fell from the sky like a glittering sculpture.

The other second realm clung to the frozen mane of his mount, skin blackened and burned by the cold, but he managed to wheel to face her along with the leader just in time to catch the echo of her song sung by a younger and higher voice. Hanyi’s refrain lacked the raw force of her own, yet they still flinched back, drawing up their qi in panic to defend and ward off the chill from worsening the icy qi already creeping into their veins.

A single sharp note parried the rearing hooves of the second realm’s mount, hurling the second realm and his mount back with the force as her singing blade emerged from the cloud, forcing the raid leader to desperately parry it with the curved blade he drew from his saddle. His horse cantered backward, trying to wheel and gain distance, but Ling Qi now knew better than to allow that to happen. Against her fellow Imperials, distance was her friend; against barbarians, it was the opposite.

She charged, and a brief thought had Hanyi laughing with glee as she leaped off of Ling Qi’s back on a gust of icy wind, her arms outstretched. Ling Qi had only a moment to see the injured second realm let out a horrified scream as Hanyi embraced him and sang of a warm death in the midst of winter snows. Ling Qi blurred back into shadow just as a bolt of heavenly power lit the clouds. The crackling meter-wide bar of actinic light was blinding, but it served only to burn an all too brief gap in the formless shadow that Ling Qi had become mid charge.

For the second time, as she grasped the man’s shoulder with her hand, she sang the silence of the End and watched the man’s wild eyes freeze behind his mask. She tried not to wonder at what difference, if any, there was from the last time. Letting him fall away, she swooped back, scooping Hanyi from the back of the panicking horse whose rider was no more. She did not look at the hollow and mummified features visible behind the second realm’s half-shattered mask as Hanyi dissolved, returning to her dantian. She was not done yet.

Ling Qi raised her flute back to her lips and once again began to play. It was no technique, merely a flexing of her power. The clouds tore apart, letting in the afternoon sun, and the sharp threatening notes of her song drew every eye to her where she flew above the falling remains of these tribesmen’s leader.

If they had not felt the brief battle before, they could certainly see the results. Beneath the churning in her stomach, Ling QI felt a certain cold sense of satisfaction as she heard the ragged cheers of the Imperial soldiers and heard the cries of alarm from the tribesmen.

With her fur-lined cloak billowing in the winter wind, Ling Qi descended to drive the enemy from the field.

Bonus: Outer Sect Tremors

“Hold. Fast. My. Friend!” Gan Guangli shouted, punctuating each word with a blow of his barrel sized fists. Across from him in the training ring, Gun Jun grimaced, feet widely braced behind the wide steel shield in his hands as the aura of mountain qi that surrounded him shuddered and his feet dug deep divots into the packed earth. All around him, others in the fellowship he had forged from the remains of his Lady’s government did the same, striving against one another in honest combat, or seated at the side resting from their own exertions.

The Sister’s Ma were among those and Gan Guangli, hid his grin behind a bellow of exertion as Gun Jun’s back stiffened and he planted his feet all the harder when one of them called out her encouragement. Despite what his companions might think, he was not actually oblivious.

“OOORA!” as he ended his string of blows he reared back his fist for a heavier strike and Gun Jun tensed further, squaring his shoulders and bolstering his body with heavy qi. His fist struck the iron shield like a gong, and iron caved in under his knuckles, but the man behind it did not, this time, go flying from the ring.

“Haha! Quite an improvement!” Gan Guangli said cheerfully, clapping the other boy on the shoulders even as he sank wheezing to his knees.

“Y-you are too kind, sir Gan,” Gun Jun gasped. “This meager growth is nothing.”

“Too humble by half,” Gan Guangli chuckled. “Miss Ma! Get our friend a cool towel if you would. He has earned a little rest!”

The girl who looked to have been contemplating fetching one on her own, practically jumped in her seat at his mention. “Y-yes, right away Sir Gan!”

Gan Guangli watched her zip off with a faint smile and gave Gun Jun a hand back to his feet. Things were coming along well. If he just…

There was a crack and a thud from the high cliff above their training ground and he snapped his head up, several of the more perceptive among them doing the same. He saw a dark blur emerge from the scraggly trees that lined the upper cliff and come rushing down in a tinder of stones and dust. For a moment he readied himself, only to hold his hand up for calm when he recognized the tumbling blurs qi.

Su Ling crashed down in the middle of their training ground, catching herself on all fours, both of her tails thrashing furiously in the air above her. She scrambled to her feet, unmindful of the smudges of dirt on her clothes or the twigs in her hair. Her eyes zeroed in on him immediately.

“Hoh there Miss Su! You’ve not come here for a spar I take it?” Gan asked, breaking the confused silence. Su Ling was an odd one. She was friendly enough but had refused all offers to join him, preferring to be alone in her workshop, despite the danger that presented from less scrupulous groups who wished access to her elixirs.

“No,” she growled swiping her hair out of her eyes. He thought her rather striking despite her active efforts to seem otherwise. “Look, I need your help, we need to get people down to the village.”

Others looked at each other murmuring, and beside him Gun Jun frowned. Gan Guangli did as well, but he raised his hand again for silence.”Miss Su, I need a little explanation.”

She growled irritably, but visibly calmed herself. “Look, you know I do a little divination on the side right? Well I was doing my usual today and every sign points to a disaster down in the village today. They’re going to need help.”

“Not to doubt you Miss Su, but is that not the sort of thing you should take to the Elder’s or at least one of the Inner Sect disciples on duty?” Gun Jun asked.

“I’ve tried, but none of them are here,” Su Ling hissed. “Medicine Hall, lecture hall, main office, there’s nobody but fucking clerks, and they won’t give me the time of day.”

There was a bit of a stir at her casual vulgarity, but the rest of her statement made gan Guangli frown. There should be at least a few people about.

“Look, I know I probably sound crazy but I’m talking a serious disaster here. I have never turned up portents this bad,” she stressed. “I’m going myself but I’m not going to be enough.”

“Sir Gan, if too many leave the mountain Lu Feng his gang will probably try to take advantage,” one of his subordinates pointed out. “We could lose our supplies or cultivation sites.”

Gan Guangli crossed his arms surveying them all. Each person in the field was looking to him for a decision. He looked to Su Ling who wore a pleading expression ill-suited to the taciturn girl’s face.

“We go to the village,” Gan Guangli said. “If there is even a chance of a disaster there preventing it is worth a few losses…”

Beneath his feet, he felt the mountain shake. Su Ling’s eyes flew wide and she hissed another curse, darting off the field.

As a tree on the edge of the cliff above groaned and toppled with the force of the next quake. Gan Guangli was already crouching as he prepared to leap. “We go!”

***

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you look like you’re about to break out in a silly grin,” Liu Xin said casually.

“Then it is certainly good that you do,” Xiao Fen replied aloofly. Although her companion was tolerable at most times, he still had many unfortunate misunderstandings of the proper ways of things. Case in point, a Bai did not grin.

“Right, of course,” Liu Xin said. Xiao Fen elected to ignore his ill-hidden sarcasm as a favor. It was too fine a spring day to ruin with admonishments. “Still, I guess that meeting with your liege Lady went well.”

“Lady Meizhen was quite pleased with my recent breakthrough to the third realm, even if it is yet incomplete,” Xiao Fen agreed, and if the corners of her lips quirked up a little, her expression could still not rightly be called anything so undignified as a grin. “Although our castes arts are different, her insights were still very helpful for my branch of the Serpent’s Step arts.”

“Cultivating together huh,” Liu Xin mused, his eyes roaming from left to right of the path. They were walking the lower reaches of the Outer Sect Mountain, on the way back to the residences. The area around them was lightly wooded, and perfect for an ambush. She was glad to see that he had taken her lessons on proper vigilance to heart. “Hm, you really like her don’t you.”

“I hear your implications Liu Xin,” Xiao Fen said, her eyes narrowing. “I have said before that I am whatever Lady Meizhen wishes of me. I have no feelings on the matter.”

Even if she despised these Sect rules which kept her from attending her mistress' side.

“And I gotta wonder how you can live like that,” Liu Xin grumbled.

“Do not ruin a good afternoon with this argument,” Xiao Fen said flatly. Although she had learned that friends were to speak openly with one another in private, so she would not punish him for it, she had no wish to rehash this matter again. Outsider’s even clever ones like Liu Xin, simply did not understand. White Serpent and Black Viper were two halves of one whole and had been since before scribes had learned to put ink to paper.

Black Viper’s did not have parents or siblings for those things could give them cause to betray their masters. Her every waking moment for so long as she had memory was spent in training to perfectly serve her future Mistress in whatever tasks she was given. She had been given that honor years early, how could she be anything but ecstatic? Yet even Liu Xin had been unsettled when she had described the non-secret portions of her upbringing.

Although it was true that she found his own youth repugnant, the sheer lack of structure was horrifying. No wonder outsiders were such unpredictable savages at times.

Liu Xin’s expression screwed up in a frown, but after a second he shook his head. “Yeah, sorry, was just trying to tease you a bit. The important thing is you were happy for the training, right?”

Xiao Fen pursed her lips. “Yes, it was most pleasant. My apologies as well. I misunderstood your attempt at humor.”

“Yeah, I should really be used to that by now,” Liu Xin chuckled. “So, what’s…”

Xiao Fen’s stopped dead, her arm shot out and he walked into it and bounced off with a grunt.

“Xiao Fen?” he asked, rubbing his chest.

“Be silent,” she said harshly, staring down at the ground. “Can you not feel that?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, following her gaze down to the ground. The leaves were rustling, but there was no wind. The stones on the packed dearth path were shaking, starting to slowly skittering across the ground. “Wait why is the mountain sha…”

The rest of his sentence was lost in the scream of the wind as beside him, as Xiao Fen blurred, throwing him over her shoulder, leapt into the sky. Beneath them the earth roared as stone and dirt split and crumbled opening a deep rent in the mountain.

And in the darkness, pale and quivering things rose.

Threads 68-Foreshock 5

“What happened here?” Ling Qi asked bluntly as her feet touched the ground in the village square in front of the bowing second realm wearing the marks of a lower officer. “Where are my fellow disciples?”

With her qi ebbing a little low from the use of so many powerful techniques in quick succession and the events of the day churning in her thoughts, Ling Qi’s grip on her power was far more frayed than usual. The ground frosted under her boots, and the wind whispered a cold and unfriendly melody.

“My apologies, Officer Ling,” the second realm officer said without raising his head or unclasping his hands. “We do not know the disposition of Officer Song, but Officer Deng was found dead just before the attack.”

Ling Qi’s brows furrowed. “Explain.”

“Officer Deng had been taking tea while preparations for the evacuation of the fields were being made,” the armored man replied stiffly. “When I entered his rooms to inform him that the attack was nigh, I found him dead. His throat was cut. There was no sign of struggle. I have no excuses.”

She watched with a blank expression as the man bowed still lower somehow as if expecting a reprimand. “You did the best that could have been expected of you,” she said mechanically. It seemed that things were only continuing to grow more alarming. She had certainly heard nothing of the Cloud tribesmen fielding assassins of all things.

As she pondered how to proceed, her head whipped around to the south in time to see a star born in the dark and stormy sky. She felt in her bones a clash of raw power near the jutting silhouette of Icebreaker Peak. A powerful wind hit her next, sending her hair fluttering and unsecured shutters and debris moving. There was a second flash then, and the earth shook, a plume of dust rising from Icebreaker Peak, visible even so many kilometers distant.

She recognized that qi from training sessions and briefings. Her commander was fighting something, something strong enough to push her. She felt the earth beneath her feet shake minutely like a gong swaying after being struck.

“O-Officer Ling?” the man beside her asked, his composure finally cracking.

“Continue the evacuation and rescue,” Ling Qi ordered hastily. “I will search for Officer Song.” And then go directly to her village, she added silently. Things were continuing to spiral beyond what she had expected, events happening far too quickly for her taste. She forced herself to calm. Rushing would not help her. “Prepare a basin filled with water,” she said, her voice stiff and clipped. “I am going to have a look at Officer Deng. Has the scene been disturbed?”

“No, ma’am,” the soldier replied, clapping his fists together and bowing his head. “There was no time, nor was the barracks damaged in the fighting.”

“Good,” Ling Qi said, turning on her heel. It was easy enough to discern the direction of the barracks, the people of the village huddled in the shelter beneath a morass of fear and pain to her senses. The earth shook again, and a gust sent her hair fluttering, a few flyaway strands dancing in the wind.

That certainly wasn’t helping, Ling Qi thought darkly.

When she entered the officer’s office in the barracks, Ling Qi did her best to not gag at the stench. She felt her stomach turn over as she saw the body. It reminded her of bad days in alleys and gutters. She forced her mind off of old memories as she stepped over the threshold, silver light flickering in her eyes. From the folds of her gown, flickering wisps of light fluttered out, spreading throughout the room, skimming the ceiling, slipping under and around the furniture, feeding her information on the scene.

The disciple was slumped over his desk. The soldier had, if anything, undersold the death wound - only the young man’s spine kept his head attached to his shoulders. A ragged gash clove the flesh of his neck in twain, but there was very little blood. The crimson fluid that stained the desk was stained black and seeped slowly, heavy and thick with toxic qi. There really was no sign of struggle. A cooling pot of tea still sat undisturbed on the desk and not a single book nor scroll on the shelves was out of place. Of the assailant, she could find no sign…

No, Ling Qi thought, narrowing her eyes as she traced the room through multiple viewpoints. There was something familiar. It was faint. Even with all of her focus, she could only just barely sense the fading remnants. It could best be described as a film like the skin that formed on curdled milk, a scent of rot and impurity that she had only caught thanks to her previous experience underground and time spent in Li Suyin’s workshop.

She would have to order messengers sent out. The other officers needed to know of the threat of a rat-thing assassin, and she would need to make sure this was reported to the Sect.

She turned swiftly from the scene, marching out. There was nothing more she could do here. Even as she proceeded out to the village headman’s house where the basin had been prepared, she felt time ticking by all too quickly. Trust or no, she wanted to get back to Zhengui and Xiulan.

She swiftly set about her task, weaving her qi into the water as she focused on the face of her fellow scout officer. She dearly hoped that he was within range. The water in the basin churned and darkened, shimmering like the night sky, and her hope was rewarded. The image was dim and a bit blurry thanks to her unfamiliarity with the young man, but she saw him huddled among the roots of a massive tree. He was wounded, but not too badly, and breathing shallowly, the corpse of a barbarian lying a few meters away in the mud. Ling Qi could only assume he was exhausted as her qi sense did not extend through the basin. At least for the moment, he seemed, fine.

Tersely, Ling Qi reported her findings to the second realm officer.

“I will discuss the matter with the local members of the garrison. Thank you for your aid, Officer Ling,” the second realm officer said, bowing low. “What will you do now?”

Ling Qi regarded him out of the corner of her eye as she stepped outside of the headman’s home. She sympathized with his stress, and she dearly hoped that the soldiers could weather events until reinforcements could arrive. “I have been away from my command for too long. I need to return.” As if to punctuate her words, the ground shook again, wind gusting down from the south. “Hold on. The Sect must have detected something amiss by now, and if not, the messengers are on their way to them.”

“Of course, officer,” the soldier said. She did not detect any blame in his voice or posture, only a certain fatalistic determination. It seemed the Sect trained their lifetime soldiers well. “We will hold until the last breath if needed.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ling Qi said. “Good luck.”

Then the man and the village were gone, shrinking below her as she rose into the sky. The moment she gained enough clearance, she shot forward like an arrow, carving silently through the rushing wind as her depleted qi sent her south.

There was no banter this time. The sight of her fellow disciple lying dead at his desk, the thought of the tribesmen she had killed today, worry for her friends and family, they all combined to drive Ling Qi to silence. The oppressive weight in the air, the clashing of qi so far beyond her, certainly did not help matters. Every time the storm-wracked sky lit up from the raw force of two fourth realm entities clashing, she nearly flinched. The rushing wind was nothing to the unnatural ripples that were spreading through the world in her spiritual senses.

She could sense beasts stirring even here, fear spreading like poison through the woods and hills. In the distance, she could see great flocks of birds rising from the trees, uncaring for species, uncaring for each other as they beat their wings and fled the brewing storm. She heard trees groaning and twisting, leaves raining down on the forest floor as they shied away from the south, and dirt and rock crumbled as roots began to move with ponderous but irresistible strength.

She just hoped that Commander Guan Zhi and Liao Zhu were able to finish their clash with whatever they were fighting soon. The disquiet in the world only grew worse as she flew further south, but she turned her mind from the forest below and kept her eyes ahead on the gleaming blue ribbon of the river leading to where the village she had left behind at the beginning of all this lay.

Threads 69: Foreshock 6

Chaos awaited her return.

In the flight south, she had seen the first signs. Great flocks of birds had been rising from the forest, raptors and songbirds flying side by side to escape the growing weight in the air. Beneath the canopy, beasts howled and yowled in fright as the earth shook and the wind gusted, and the pounding of a multitude of paws and hooves against the dirt added to the cacophony. As she flew further, she began to sense the disturbance in the trees themselves. Heavy branches swayed without wind and roots moved with ponderous but unstoppable strength as the tallest and most ancient trees seemed to gird themselves to endure the coming storm while their younger brethren shook and cowered.

It was nothing compared to the scene that awaited her at the village itself. She had left behind a peaceful farming village huddled on the shores of the river with beautiful green fields extending far upstream. What she found on return seemed more like an embattled fortress. The rolling fields had been trampled to ruin, homes, barns and other structures sagging where walls had been blown out in the rampage of some beast. Even now, spirits streamed through the trampled fields, fleeing in all directions.

At the center, things were even more dire. Ling Qi’s eyes watered at the fetid heat that radiated out from the battlefield she saw there, sickly and familiar. She remembered clearing out that nest of disease spirits just a few days ago, but it seemed there had been more pockets further south. Many more pockets. They churned from the southern forest like a moving river of chitin; centipedes, locusts, worms, and crawling and flying things that she could not name all flooded out from the southern hills, their buzzing and chittering seeming to shake the air.

At the top of the ridge that overlooked the river, a massive wall had sprung up. Formed of twisted bulging branches and boughs of vital green wood, it rose over ten meters high and stretched on for hundreds, a shield braced against the ground against the oncoming beasts. The Sect’s soldiers stood atop the twitching, living wall, four first realms to every second. The lesser cultivators rained crossbow bolts that left contrails of boiling steam down upon the advancing tide in a continuous rain, their hands blurring with the speed at which they reloaded the devices. Their captains swept the sky with fire, wind, water, and lightning while the wall itself crushed, impaled, and destroyed the things that crawled upon it with grasping branches and creepers.

She saw Xiulan standing at the center of it all, a burning brand under the darkened sky. Heat radiated from her form, distorting the very air and rendering her a miragelike appearance. Her gown seemed like a thing of liquid fire, and her hair rose, smoking on drafts of superheated air. Heavenly energies crackled near the surface of her skin, shining through the faded scars of her tribulation as if her friend were merely a damaged container for an ocean of living lightning.

Even as Ling Qi poured on further speed, blurring into a bolt of shadow in the sky, she saw Xiulan sweep her bandage-wrapped hand out, and a river of blue-white flame followed, a searing beam that carved through the advancing spirits, hundreds incinerated or boiled in their own exoskeletons until they exploded in a shower of miasma. Where the beam passed, it left a molten trench in the earth, liquid glass and stone snapping and hissing in the suddenly cooling air. With her other hand, Xiulan wielded a many tailed lash of red flames. It snapped and coiled through the air, snatching a locust the size of a large dog from the air and flung it away from the wall.

The tumbling bug was then snatched from the air by a pair of gigantic serpentine jaws, vanishing with a crunch down Zhen’s throat as Gui stomped through the tide, uncaring of the insects that swarmed up his legs, biting and gnashing futilely at his scales. With every rumbling step, roots speared out from the earth, impaling scores of spirits before withdrawing back into the churned earth. Yet Zhengui was not unharmed. Ling Qi’s eyes fell upon the patches of torn scales along Zhen’s body and the glowing crack that spiderwebbed across Gui’s shell.

The one that had inflicted the wounds was obvious. Hanging over the field like a macabre banner, she saw the body of a truly massive insect, a centipede over twenty meters long impaled upon three sharp wooden stakes the size of small trees, its grey-brown shell pitted and burned through by fires and its head a charred ruin. Its legs still twitched and writhed feebly, and fetid gore that stunk of sickness and rot dripped from its perforated body, leaving bubbling pools in the dirt below.

As Ling Qi swept over the village, Zhen opened his jaws, baring his fangs to the sky, and a little spark of fire perched like a crown atop his head flared brighter. A sheet of hissing, bubbling venom shot from his mouth over a far wider range than he was normally able, melting and burning the flying vermin trying to pass him.

However, despite all the firepower, the diseased things streaming from the southern forest were still numerous beyond counting. Ling Qi curved her flight to the side least supported and raised her flute to her lips. The dark Melody of the Forgotten Vale poured forth with an unusual energy, and as mist began to billow out, heavy with hungry phantoms, a ragged cheer rose from the wall. It came first from a handful, presences Ling Qi vaguely recognized from patrols and training runs, only to quickly be taken up by others as her mist engulfed the mass of flying spirits and their shredded remains began to rain down on the earth below. Some were hardier than others, their chitin resisting phantasmal claws, but Hanyi’s song, rising in counterpoint to hers, allowed that to be taken care of while conserving Ling Qi’s own dwindling qi.

With her help, sweeping across the battlefield in a bank of deadly mist, the tide at last receded, leaving a field of twisted, miasmic sludge of insectoid bodies dissolving into diseased pools.

“Arriving at the last moment to steal the glory, I see,” the living conflagration that was Xiulan called to her.

Ling Qi ascended to the top of the wall, heat and cold clashing where their auras met, violent winds rustling the cloaks of the soldiers nearest by. Beyond the base physical interaction, she felt Xiulan’s domain. It was a hungry ambitious thing, lightning stabbing down from the heavens, a wildfire raging through dry brush, but it did not reject hers. If anything, the flames roared higher and the lightning flashed more brightly when Ling Qi’s own melody washed over them.

“I just can’t help myself,” Ling Qi jested, keeping the relief out of her voice as she alighted on the wall beside Xiulan. Shadow still trailed from her limbs and lines of green glimmered in the folds of her gown from her activated techniques, but she had left her mist below, maintained by the echoes of her flute. Here, with Zhengui and Xiulan, Ling Qi felt her fatigue fade and her worries lessen. This was where she was supposed to be.

“I’ll forgive it just this once,” Xiulan said haughtily, her smirk shifting the lines of lightning that burned beneath her scars. “If only because I was growing sick of cooking these rancid creatures.”

“You kept them all out of the village then?” Ling Qi asked. She knew it was only due to their fortitude as cultivators that they could stand the miasma rising from below. Even so, she had felt her skin crawl with sickly heat when making a pass through the worst of it.

“Of course,” Xiulan sniffed. “But it was thanks to that spirit of yours.”

“I protected everyone!” Gui boomed proudly, his voice echoing across the ruined field as he stomped back toward the wall. “It was really hard, but I did it!”

“Even foolish Gui can accomplish something in a pinch, but it was only due to I, Zhen, that things went so well,” Zhen hissed proudly. “It was my fangs that finished the beast!” Atop his head, the tiny flame, which Ling Qi now recognized as Linhuo, let out a crackling laugh.

“I’ve no idea where he learned such bragging,” Xiulan murmured before raising her voice. “Soldiers! You have fought well and with great bravery! It pleases me to have been able to lead such a fine force this day! I am certain we need only hold a short time more.”

Her words brought a tired cheer from the men and women on the wall, though they kept their eyes and their crossbows trained on the south.

More quietly and masked by the crackling heat, her friend’s expression grew more serious as she continued, “It is well that you returned. I am already down a half dozen men; the disease was too much for them. I have ordered a temporary camp set up for the wounded since we cannot bring them into town. I am feeling a bit winded as well.”

Ling Qi’s eyebrows climbed at the frank admission from her proud friend. “I am not at my best either,” she said quietly. “The other villages - they’re holding but there won’t be any help coming from them. Have there been any other messengers?”

Xiulan grimaced, sparks spitting from her fingertips. “Only one, warning us to keep away from the south. Sect forces are inbound, but it seems this was not the only plague brewing in Sect lands nor the only instance of higher raiding.”

Ling Qi breathed deeply, putting the new fears that brought to mind away for now. It just confirmed the thoughts she had earlier. Something was terribly wrong.

The earth suddenly rocked violently beneath her feet, nearly throwing several soldiers from the wall, and her eyes snapped up. From the silhouette of Icebreaker Peak, she saw a long, sinuous limb, a titanic tendril of some unknown thing, rise from the massive dust cloud where it had impacted the earth.

Ling Qi stared, unable to comprehend the sheer size of the thing, which was visible from many kilometers away. Stupefied, she continued staring while something far too small to see smashed the thrashing tendril aside with enough force to tear a chunk of flesh that must have been the size of a house free. She watched the arc it drew through the air toward them, a lumpy, squirming mass of runny black ooze studded with mouths and eyes of innumerable shapes, already rotting in fast motion before it slammed into and flattened a grove of trees out in the killing field before the wall. She raised her arm to shield her eyes from the wind of that impact buffeting her, sending her hair and dress flapping.

“...There is also that,” Xiulan said dully.

“We just have to hope that Commander Guan can win.” The admission tasted bitter in her mouth, but there was nothing that she could do about the two titanic powers in the south. Perhaps in a couple of years, but until then…

Xiulan shot her a sour look, as if detecting the thrust of her thoughts, and then turned away to address the shaken soldiers. At that moment, a great cacophony arose from the diseased grove to the south, and the sound of wood splintering echoed as a massive red and brown form rose from the trees. Meters-wide mandibles snapped and hundreds of legs churned the earth as another grotesque titan of a centipede emerged from the earth. Below her, Zhengui bellowed a challenge, turning with surprising speed to face the new foe and the resurgence of the diseased spirits that came pouring out with it.

“Ling Qi!” Xiulan’s shout drew her attention, even as Sixiang let out a wordless cry of alarm in her head. The girl stared at her with eyes wild with alarm, her bandaged hand outstretched, fires already blooming from her fingertips.

Ling Qi saw the gleam of metal beneath her chin, the curved and serrated blade just a hair’s breadth from her throat, and the slim grey skinned hand, digits just slightly too long and thin for a human’s, holding it. Even now, she felt no presence. There was no qi nor even a breath across the back of her neck despite the shine of deep purple venom practically dripping from the blade’s edge.

Chapter 70: Foreshock 7

Ling Qi jerked her head back, buying herself bare millimeters of space, and the knife sparked where it met the threads of her gown. Uncaring for the expense, she flooded her spine with vital wood qi, and her aura flared violently as it rippled out over everyone nearby. Ancient strength seeped into her skin and flesh, the strength of One Thousand Rings Unbroken.

But it would not be enough to just survive this strike; she had to make sure that this assassin would not be able to strike like this again. Her hand closed around her enemy’s thin, clammy wrist. Hot pain bloomed as the knife penetrated her gown and cut into flesh, but she dragged her assailant’s hand down with all of her strength, and combined with her reactive defensive techniques, it was enough.

Cold metal cut deep into her resisting flesh, but it met her collarbone, and although she felt a deep uncomfortable grinding as the serrated edge struck bone, it went no deeper. Ling Qi refused to scream and mentally batted aside Sixiang’s intent to cleanse the poison. As ice cold qi froze the blood seeping from her wound, the muse understood her unbroken will to live even in the face of insurmountable odds

With her expression contorted into a snarl of pain and effort, Ling Qi tightened her grip on the assassin’s wrist, fingers digging into disgustingly rubbery flesh. Sixiang’s qi, scented with moonlight and celestial wine, burst from her every pore, washing over the assassin in a wave of confusion and momentary madness. With the roar of Xiulan’s flames in her ears, Ling Qi held her grip on the assassin and turned, dragging her enemy with the motion.

She could already feel the assassin attempting to slip free, their wrist growing soft, almost boneless, in her grip, but it was too late. A high-pitched, almost canine, wail of pain came out as Xiulan cast a blinding white lance from her fingertips. Barely more than a finger wide, it was not just flame nor lightning but a lance of sunlight, devastating in its purity.

Then the assassin was free of her grip, and she spun back to face it, the mantle of Winter’s Aria already around her shoulders. Ling Qi tried her best to ignore the faint edge of raggedness in her voice; she could still feel the ragged hole in her flesh where her throat had been pierced just above the collarbone, now sealed with a pack of crimson ice. She felt the fetid heat of poison in her veins bringing sweat to her brow and making her hands shake. Despite that, her attention did not waver from the one who had caused all of this.

Something in the sight of the hunched figure triggered an instinctive and visceral disgust, even beyond what she felt toward a foe who had nearly taken her head. Wrapped in a spiderweb of leather straps through which its pale, rubbery hide was visible, the thing seemed to fall just short of seeming human in shape. Its apelike arms were too long, and the contours of its skull held a touch of beastliness. Its face was concealed behind a strange leather mask with protruding sacs hanging from it that grew and shrunk with each breath, all stretched over a vaguely canine muzzle. A single whip-like cable of dull grey hair hung from the back of the thing’s skull, and were it able to straighten its hunched spine, it would stand almost two and a half meters high. Certain features gave the impression that it might be female, but Ling Qi felt revulsion toward giving it even that much identity.

The creature was staggering, its blanket of twisted darkness qi receded like a rippling oil slick from where Xiulan’s fires had struck it. Ling Qi could smell the scent of burned leather and meat. It had no time to throw up another defense as she sang the Hoarfrost Refrain, the cold washing over it, biting and hungry. Her singing mist blade emerged, slicing through the air at it, yet the assassin moved with preternatural quickness to avoid the full thrust of her onrushing song of winter and darting mist blade. Its flesh blackened and froze as it flipped through the air, her qi punching through the creature’s paper thin defenses.

<Ling Qi, I can’t remove the poison,> Sixiang hissed, frustration and fear coloring their voice.

A worry for later. Ling Qi kept her attention fixed on the assassin as it landed further down the wall, startling soldiers who were just now beginning to react to its presence. She heard Zhengui bellow in rage, but a single harsh thought stopped him from barreling back. She needed him to hold the line against the disease spirits. For the first time, she felt him balk at obeying her. She shot her little brother a startled glance through a single mirror-eye and met Zhen’s frustrated gaze.

“Please, little brother. I can’t afford distraction. I need you to stop them,” she pleaded. She knew he wanted to help her more directly, but if the swarm and the titan centipede were able to press down on them while they were still fighting the assassin, it’d spell disaster. Ling Qi felt Zhengui turn his attention back to the disease spirit, a massive surge of vital qi flooding into the increasingly barren earth. A veritable spear wall of roots erupted across hundreds of meters of ground, impaling countless lesser spirits. The titanic centipede charged forward and crashed down on Zhengui, legs and mandibles skittering off of his shell.

She felt Hanyi try to leave her dantian to help her against the assassin, but she directed the young spirit to aid Zhengui instead; she did not want Hanyi to be a target for the assassin.

The assassin dashed toward Xiulan with its knife raised in a low guard, weaving through the crossbow bolts being shot at its back by the soldiers with contemptuous ease. In one smooth motion, the creature reached into a pouch at its belt and flung something toward them. Ling Qi glimpsed a dark purple crystal tumbling through the air before it exploded, a rippling wave of black smoke engulfing both her and her friend. She felt the smoke seeping into her channels,eating away at the qi enhancing her senses like acid.

She snarled, and her left hand rose to the sound of tiny bells chiming. The jeweled symbols of the moons hanging across the back of her hand flashed and grew hot, ruby inlay blazing, and drank in the smoke. The air howled as the foulness was sucked in, vanishing into the delicate Three Moons Chime talisman as if it had never been.

Somehow, even with its face wholly covered, she read startlement in the assassin’s frame as it was abruptly revealed. Xiulan’s lash struck out, and tongues of flame curled around its limbs and slammed it into the rough green wood of Zhengui’s rampart. The column of flames and distorted air around her friend hissed with the fury of an uncontrolled wildfire as lightning roared out to scourge the trapped assassin’s pale hide.

With an effort of will, Ling Qi ignored the throbbing of the wound carved across her shoulder. The tips of her fingers felt numb, and an unpleasant tingling feeling was spreading through her chest, but the assassin was not down yet. Even now, she could see movement where it struggled to rise against Xiulan’s lash. Black miasma rose from its flesh, absorbing jagged trails of electricity.

Again, she sang the song the Hoarfrost Refrain, even as her qi guttered low, lower than she had felt it in a long time. Was it the poison draining her qi so badly? She powered through the weaving of the qi for the technique regardless, ignoring the leadenness in her limbs.

The assassin shuddered, more flesh freezing under the harsh melody. A crossbow bolt, whistling with steam, thudded into its hunched back, punching through leather and flesh. The creature’s foul qi surged as it finally slipped the bonds of Xiulan’s lash, and it lunged, dark qi bulging under its skin, filling channels to the point of bursting. Startled, Xiulan began to jerk back, but she could see that it would not be fast enough. Viridian energy rippled across Ling Qi’s gown as she activated Deepwood Vitality, gleaming shells of bright green qi shimmering across herself, Xiulan, and all the soldiers within range.

It was just in time. The assassin’s flesh tore apart under the strain of the growing qi, and a wave of utter foulness washed over them. It was the essence of filth, foul beyond words, and Ling Qi gagged and held back tears from watering eyes. She felt her technique shatter under the weight of it, but it had held long enough. A vast scoop of the rampart was gone, eaten away, rotted into sludge.

“Vile thing,” Xiulan spat as she dragged herself out of the pitted crater with a flick of her wrist, her flame lash having caught onto a protruding branch of the surviving rampart. Across the way, men scrambled to climb back up the broken wall, but Ling Qi was glad to see them unharmed too. “Thank you, Ling Qi.”

“You’re welcome,” Ling Qi said dizzily, and a moment later, she fell to her knees. How silly. That wasn’t the sort of thing that was supposed to happen any more.

“Ling Qi?!” Xiulan cried out from somewhere nearby.

“Get her down into the ash,” Sixiang’s voice snapped from empty air. “I can’t cleanse the poison, but Zhengui should at least be able to heal the symptoms.”

Ling Qi felt warmth. Tongues of flame licked her skin, hot enough to melt flesh and boil blood, but they were comfortably warm to her. She felt Xiulan tugging on her arm, pulling it around her shoulder. “That’s not gonna work. You’re too short,” she murmured.

“Do be silent,” Xiulan snapped, and Ling Qi felt the rush of wind as she leaped down from the rampart. “Idiot girl, why did you take the beast’s knife? I know you could have dodged it.”

“Wouldn’t have been able to set it up for a good enough counter,” Ling Qi slurred out. “Mighta let it take a shot at you too.”

“Fool,” Xiulan repeated harshly. “Zhengui!”

Ling Qi sucked in a breath of air as Zhengui roared in response. The ash around them flared green, and she felt the haze recede from her thoughts. Her qi was still down to dregs, but she no longer teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. The frozen blood sealed her wound, kept more of her life from spilling out, but the poison still pulsed, hot and painful through her veins. The ash flashed again, still more disappearing, and she felt the wound struggle to close, pushing the damage back but only barely.

She looked up and saw Zhengui bracing himself against the centipede coiled around him. Zhen struck, biting deep into its chitin again and again. On his back, Hanyi stood, singing, surrounded by the shattered chunks of lesser spirits as they tried to swarm over Zhengui and burrow into the wound in his shell. Even so, the swarm was still oncoming, and they now stood level with it as spirits crept, crawled, and flew through the distracted Zhengui’s defenses.

“Sorry. It seemed like the best choice at the time,” Ling Qi said to Xiulan.

“I am sure it did,” her friend said disdainfully. “You madwoman.”

“Says the one who went out to let herself get struck by lightning on purpose,” Ling Qi snorted. She looked across the oncoming enemies with an unwelcome trepidation. Perhaps if she fell back into her mist, she could drain enough qi from them to overtake the loss from the poison? Zhengui would need to keep healing her though…

At that moment, she heard trees splintering and the earth cracking open. From the now ruined copse to the south, a second and then a third titanic insectoid form reared.

“Bullshit,” Ling Qi breathed.

“Language,” Xiulan said beside her, staring up at the enemies with a blank expression. “Can you run?”

“I think so,” Ling Qi said uncertainly. Xiulan’s qi was dangerously low after raining down so many powerful attacks on the assassin, and she herself had almost nothing left, the poison eating away at whatever sparks of qi tried to refill her dantian.

Just as she began to consider that they might have to abandon the village, a second sun bloomed in the sky. The two titanic centipedes, already scuttling forward toward them, let out ear-piercing screams as a crescent of liquid gold crashed down on them. Rotted and splintered wood was vaporized instantly, and segments of the beast’s bodies blackened and swelled, exploding from the heat before the molten metal even touched them. When it did, they were gone.

Ling Qi looked up at the descending light and saw the source. Gu Yanmei descended from the sky on wings of molten gold. In her hand was a sword that seemed like a shard of the sun, and her mere presence brought death to the swarm. Lesser spirits were vaporized, and toxic pools evaporated, both purified by the light. Below, Zhengui let out a below of triumph as Zhen dug his fangs into a section of shattered exoskeleton, and the beast coiling around him began to spasm in its death throes.

“Sister?” Xiulan asked in bafflement as the fourth realm descended.

“It is good that you are well, Xiulan,” Gu Yanmei said evenly. Droplets hissed as they flew with each beat of her wings, and wherever they landed, the foulness seeping into the earth began to burn away, leaving crisp and barren soil. “We will speak later. With this matter taken care of, I must be off to assist -”

“Sister,” Gu Xiulan interrupted, and the older girl’s eyebrows shot up. “Sister, please, my friend... Ling Qi has been badly poisoned.”

“If there is anything you can do, Senior Sister, it would be appreciated,” Ling Qi said weakly.

The earth shook beneath her feet again, almost making her lose her balance. She saw the Core disciple above her hesitate. “I am no medic, but there is a reason I was deployed against this foulness.” Ling Qi’s eyes widened as Gu Yanmei leveled her sword, the blinding blade pointing directly at Ling Qi. “This will hurt,” the stoic girl said curtly, if not unkindly.

Ling Qi braced herself as a beam of sunlight, raw and pure, struck her. Her shoulder and neck lit up with renewed pain, and the frozen blood shutting her wound boiled off into so much mist. Ling Qi felt something like liquid fire injected directly into her body and spirit, scouring veins, physical and spiritual, of corruption and toxin.

As her consciousness faded, Gu Yanmei’s head whipped around in alarm as the earth rocked, no mere minor tremor like before but a violent quaking that threw her from her feet. Far, far to the south in the great mountains of the Wall, Ling Qi saw the sky split asunder. She saw a mountaintop disintegrate into powder and saw the storm-wracked clouds rip apart in an expanding cone leaving behind a bare blue sky. Gu Yanmei’s molten wings flared out into an aegis that stretched beyond sight, and she felt the fourth realm’s energies slam into place over the rampart and village, shielding everyone from the terrible gale that ripped through in its wake.

Her back hit the dry, burnt ground, and she knew no more.

***

Ling Qi’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up with a gasp, her expression wild. It was dark. How long had she been-?!

“Easy.” A familiar voice reached her ears, soothing and calm. “You are in a medical wagon. You are safe. The attacks are over, for now,” Liao Zhu said quietly.

Though her heart still thundered in her ears, Ling Qi saw that he was right. She was seated on a soft bed, and she could feel the faint tremor of the wagon moving under her. The cramped space was packed with medical talismans and pill cupboards, the scent of medicine stung her nose, but it was a safe scent. Tension left her shoulders as she looked down at herself. She was dressed in a silver patient’s gown, and she glimpsed a thick layer of poultice packed into her wounded shoulder and neck. “Senior Brother, what happened after I…?”

She trailed off as she turned to look at him. He, too, was seated on a bed in a patient’s gown. His mask remained in place, but the right sleeve of his gown was empty.

He chuckled. “My apologies, Junior Sister. It looks as if this Senior was not wholly invincible after all. He is sorry for disappointing.”

“Will the Medicine Hall be able to fix it?” she asked with faint horror.

“Perhaps if it were merely severed,” he said, shaking his head. “But no, it is gone, devoured flesh and spirit. Even the channels are gone. I will simply have to adjust.”

“I’m sorry,” Ling Qi said, ducking her head. She didn’t know what to say. “What happened?” she asked plaintively. That had been no normal attack, and Xiulan had said that a messenger told her that there were attacks all over the Sect. “That earthquake at the end and the sky…”

“You were awake for that then,” Liao Zhu said, leaning back against the wall of the wagon. “I will not say that our whole theatre was a distraction, but it was a side objective. Our theatre was one of many struck across the Sect lands. The Sect will be shifting its footing after this.”

“If this was just a -” Ling Qi swallowed down bitter words at the idea of everything she had seen being a mere sideshow. “What was the main objective then?” she asked, taking a steadying breath.

Liao Zhu was silent, staring up at the ceiling of the medical wagon.

“Elder Zhou has been slain.”

Threads 71- Epilogue-War

There were no caskets at the funeral service.

Some families had requested the remains be sent back to their estates, but those who remained in the Sect’s care had been given the usual treatment. Their bodies had been destroyed. The foul things that could be done with a cultivator’s corpse were more than enough reason for tradition to reign. For those who could see the spirit, there were no illusions about the value of an empty shell to the fallen.

Instead, deep in a misty valley of pacified spirits between the Inner Sect mountains, there was a series of great monoliths of white jade on which names were carved, each name glittering a color of the rainbow. Elder Guan Zhou’s name blazed violet, dark and brooding, but his had not been the only name carved today. Seventeen names in pale and faded green marked the monolith, fifty eight in ephemeral yellow, and one hundred and sixty four names in dull and somber red. Ling Qi had not heard anyone count the mortal casualties.

Ling Qi still felt awful for the flood of relief that had filled her when she had seen that there were no names which she recognized on the list of the fallen, Disciple Deng aside. Standing among the ranks of the Inner Sect as a long line of people spoke of the fallen and of their deeds and lives only made her feel worse, reminding her with every word that each one of them had been a person whose life was now so much dust. By the end, she almost missed the sound of a wooden cane cracking against the stone dais for the speakers.

Sect Head Yuan He looked old, mounting the steps. It was not the deep wrinkles on his face nor the whiteness of his hair and beard. Those had not changed, but something in his posture had. There was a droop in his still powerful shoulders, and for once, his cane seemed like it was truly an elderly man’s crutch. All the same, the Sect Head’s aura could not be ignored. Ling Qi found her head rising as the tap of his cane on the stone repeated with each step mounted.

The rain was coming from him, Ling Qi realized. Since the start of the ceremony, a fine rain had been falling from the grey sky overhead. Yet now, looking upon Sect Head Yuan, she realized that the clouds and the man were one and the same. Bent and aged as he appeared in this moment, power emanated from his withered frame, a rising column that spread into the sky above.

“Guan Zhou was amongst the finest of men to have ever risen from this Sect.” Yuan He’s voice remained rich and easily heard throughout the valley as he turned to face them atop the memorial dais. “He was the son of Guan Zhong, my blood brother and the man who stood beside me until the last against the wrath of the scourge Ogodei.”

Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed in the sky. In the afterimage of the flash, she saw, for just a moment, the face of a jolly, barrel chested man with a luxuriant black beard standing behind the Sect Head, the potency of Yuan He’s soul enough to impress images upon the world.

“He was, in many ways, a son to me.” The Sect Head’s eyes drifted shut, even as the grip on the cane in his hand grew white-knuckled. “And I could not have been prouder of his achievements. Over a dozen brewing major incursions were broken by his hands, and countless towns and villages have known over the centuries that the sight of his back meant that their safety was assured.”

In the flash of the lightning, Ling Qi saw the silhouette of her old teacher standing in the sky, his arms folded behind his back. His lessons seemed so long ago now, but Ling Qi felt a tightness in her chest all the same. Taciturn and demanding a teacher as he had been, he had also been among the first to encourage her and offer words of approval for her efforts.

“Guan Zhou was a man of impeccable honor, a soldier who never bent under the weight of duty, and a commander who saw that his men’s every need was seen to and their lives never spent unwisely. It had been my hope that one day, he would bear the duties which now lie upon my back.” Yuan He’s sorrow felt infectious, spreading through the aura that lay across them all.

“But, my disciples, though this is a time of mourning, it must, by needs, also be a time of preparation.” Sect Head Yuan straightened on the raised platform of marble and jade.

“The time for competition and games among yourselves is over.” Sparks erupted from his lips as he spoke, dancing through the air, and thunder rumbled in his every word, tinged with righteous fury. Behind his eyelids, power glowed through the feeble skein of mortal flesh, straining the lie of Yuan He’s body. “As of today, the challenge system is suspended. Sect services will continue, but your rank will be determined by your contributions to the Sect. There is no need for such proxy conflicts at this time.”

Overhead, the clouds stirred and swirled, growing dark. Not a single disciple dared even breathe a murmur of discontent. Ling Qi glanced at the back of her liege’s head. What that meant for them and the Duchess’ challenge, she was not sure, but she could not imagine that Cai Shenhua would let a little thing like a border war alter the parameters.

“You will have time as the Sect prepares and plans for the days ahead. I suggest you use them well. Those of you who were injured, take the time to recover and reflect on your battles. Those of you who were not, gird yourselves for such trials. We must all be ready for the days to come.” Ling Qi felt an electric tingle in her nerves with each word, an infinitely small fraction of the Sect Head’s power straightening her spine and clearing her mind.

“The Sect will not allow this insult to stand.”

Threads 72-Interlude-Shockwaves

It was weird how something as grating as stone scraping across metal could seem tranquil. Then again, thought Su Ling, before today, she’d never really thought about what higher cultivation meant.

She breathed in time with the scrape of the whetstone across the blade laid across her lap and glanced up at the tremendous barrier of stone a few meters beyond the border fence she had parked herself on. It curved up and up, a vast dome that contained the whole town and its immediate outskirts. Su Ling had seen Elder Ying reshape the landscape before, dropping a whole section of the forest to create a new valley. But somehow, it hadn’t really clicked until today.

Her ears twitched in agitation as she closed her eyes and echoes of what she’d seen throughout the day. She remembered the miasmic haze of illusory qi twisting whole sections of the forest into inescapable labyrinths. She remembered a whole section of the forest flipping up like a trapdoor and arachnid limbs reaching out to drag centipedes bigger than houses underground. She remembered the ground writhing with gross fungal things boiling up from the valley only to be torn apart by lashing branches and roots or dragged down squealing and screaming to be re-entombed in the earth.

<It is frightening, but you performed beautifully, my master. Through your benevolence, lives were saved, and is that not enough?> Su Ling felt the weight on her head shifting, tiny claws finding purchase in her thick, curly hair.

“That’s one way to look at it, Ci,” she drawled, glancing up to see her spirit’s fuzzy snub-nosed face peering down at her. Mostly, it just reminded her how irrelevant she was.

<Please do not shorten my name, Master. I am proud to be Cibei, the mercy which raises up those trodden upon by injustice!> the little bat said with a frustrated squeak. Though she was early second realm now, the spirit hadn’t grown much larger. She wasn’t the type for that, and that suited Su Ling just fine.

“Just fuckin with ya,” she snorted, looking back down at her sword. With a sigh, she tucked the whetstone away; she was just going to damage her blade if she kept going. “I know we helped people. Don’t need you being my hype girl.”

<On the contrary, Master! Here you sit, morose on the eve of victory. My words are obviously needed!> her mouthy spirit rebutted.

“Yeah, well,” Su Ling began, only for her ears to flick as she heard familiar heavy footsteps.

“So this is where you went to hide, Miss Su!” She grimaced, her ears lying flat against her skull as Gan Guangli’s booming voice reached her.

“It sure is,” she said dryly, not turning around to look at him. Him and his guys might have been the only ones to follow her after the elders had declared the truce reinstated on pain of expulsion.

“And why should the heroine of the hour be alone at a time like this?” Fucking hells. how could anyone pack that much pep into their voice? Gan was like a big dumb puppy. At least he had enough respect for her space to stop a few steps away.

“Your lot are the ones who did most of the work,” she retorted gruffly, prompting Cibei to let out a high-pitched squeak of protest.

“Though it shames me, without your words, I would not have thought to come here,” Gan Guangli replied, dropping the overblown pep for a moment. “In my complacency, I thought to fortify my own with no thought that the Sect might need aid.”

Oh, the Sect didn’t, but the town did. She’d been down in that pit with Suyin enough that she knew earth and rock weren’t much of a barrier to those things. When she’d scented that oily, rotten stink on the air, she’d had a bad feeling that the dome Elder Ying had raised would not be enough. The town never had too many soldiers in it at the best of times. “A messenger ain’t a hero,” she shot back stubbornly.

“I dare you to walk through the outer village, look upon the faces of the people there, celebrating their survival, and say so,” Gan Guangli said calmly. She hunched her shoulders, scowling. Somehow, she liked him better when he was acting like a feckless moron. “While it is true that I and my followers fought the most, your divination guided us. Where would we be without our eyes?”

Her gut had been right. Mighty as an elder’s power was, with everything going on, some things had wormed through the gaps. Those things beneath the notice of the titans clashing outside, but for a bunch of mortals, a few first realm things crawling out of their basements and sewers weren’t so trivial. The town center was safe, guarded by soldiers, but there just weren’t enough to cover the whole town.

“Maybe I just don’t like company.” She refused to argue with him anymore. “They can celebrate better without people like me reminding them of how bad things almost got.”

“Mm, a good point perhaps!” Gan Guangli said cheerfully. Her stomach sank as she heard the thump of his armored behind hitting the ground with a crash like a cart falling off its wheels. “Powerful cultivators are often intimidating even when we do not mean to be!”

“Can you just not take a hint or what?” Su Ling finally asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“I am told that I am obtuse at times,” Gan Guangli agreed. The sturdy fence creaked ominously as he leaned against it a few paces away. “If you wish me to leave, I will do so, Miss Su. You have but to ask.”

“Do what ya want,” Su Ling grumbled. turning her gaze back to the wall of stone. Cibei laughed at her.

There was a long silence. Su Ling had to hand it to Gan. The oaf was stubborn; she’d never heard him be quiet for this long. “Why’d you come? Truce is on, but that just means no violence. Lu Feng’s boys have probably taken a bunch of your shit by now.”

“I think you underestimate Miss Xiao somewhat,” Gan Guangli said. “However, it is irrelevant. Resources can be regained. If we cannot safeguard our people, then what good are we?”

“Bet that’s not how you’ll put it in your report to the boss,” Su Ling replied dryly.

“It is precisely how I will put it, if perhaps in more formal prose,” Gan Guangli laughed. “Lady Cai has no use for sycophants among her direct servants. I follow her because her beliefs mirror mine. No, rather, my beliefs are built from hers.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “That so,” she said, making her disinterest clear.

The oversized boy raised his hands in defense. “I am not here to lecture or expound.”

“So you’re not still trying to recruit me?” Su Ling asked sarcastically.

“Of course I am. You are a courageous and virtuous woman. I would be most pleased to have you on my side.” The cheeky fucker grinned at her.

Su Ling tilted her head, letting her long hair cover the dusting of color that rose on her cheeks. Stupid instincts. “Whatever. Not interested in playing soldier.”

“As you wish, Miss Su,” he said, falling silent.

Her insights were vague things at the best of times. She wasn’t going to subordinate herself, Su Ling thought, looking out at the blank expanse of stone, but she couldn’t help but feel that something fundamental had shifted. She didn’t know the details of what had happened, but there was blood in the air, drums in the sky, and howls under the earth. She couldn’t stay the same.

“Enough with the ‘Miss’ garbage. My name is Su Ling. Use it.”

***

“You have not taken my advice,” Gu Yanmei said evenly, seated on the divan beside her. Despite her perfectly composed tone, the words still managed to sound accusing.

Gu Xiulan hunched her shoulders, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Her hair hung in loose ringlets around her shoulders, unstyled and wild. She kept her eyes fixed on the wall ahead. Her sister’s house was richly appointed, its steel walls covered by tapestry and decoration.

She could not say that she was appreciating the decor much at the moment. Xiulan did not flinch as her sister peeled away a portion of burnt and ruined flesh from her arm with a surgical instrument, a pair of silver graspers etched with characters of cleanliness and purity. It was good that she had grown inured to the scent of burning flesh and fat. The piece her sister had removed joined the rest of the irrecoverable pieces of skin and muscle in the bowl.

Even now, her arm was a ruin. With the bandages off, it was revealed as a burned husk. If she looked, Xiulan knew she would see places where bone was visible and burned with pale blue flames. Snapping currents of lightning ran where veins should have been, and sparks popped and snapped through gaps in her blackened skin.

Only as her elder sister set her tool down and began to unroll a new set of aromatic silk bandages did Xiulan finally answer. “I made the attempt. It does not fit my Way.”

“Your Way will lead to an early grave, sister,” Yanmei said, not looking up at her as she began the laborious process of re-wrapping Xiulan’s arm.

On the Sect mission, the world had shook apart, the sky had split open, and the rain had turned into a hail of stone from a broken mountain. Above her, Elder Sister had hovered on burning wings like a phoenix from the family’s tales, wrapping them in heat. Ling Qi had collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and she had dived to catch her friend before she struck the ground, ignoring the shriek of agony that the sudden motion sent through her tattered nerves.

Power had washed over her. Even through Elder Sister’s aura, she had felt the crushing weight of it. The earth shook again, and before her eyes, another mountain had crumbled. Icebreaker Peak had tumbled down like a child’s tower of blocks, thousands of tons of stone collapsing as the full breadth of the thing within was revealed. It had been a sea of grey and black flesh, a million hungry maws and agonized eyes rolling in madness, mindless tendrils the size of towers thrashing wildly against everything in reach. She had felt her stomach churn merely from looking at it.

Her sister’s aura had flared like a second sun, and then, she had left, a boom of thunder passing in her wake, but the warmth of her aura remained, cradling her, cradling them, protection from the madness of the world outside. She had seen the faces of the soldiers who had fought with her twisted in desperation and fear. She had heard them praying to the great spirits and their ancestors.

For once, she had felt no disdain for their fear. Beneath a sundered sky and on the rolling earth, she had held her friend close and prayed as well.

“Better that, than the alternative,” Xiulan said bitterly.

For the first time, Yanmei paused, a flicker of some emotion surfacing in her cool gaze, gone too fast to be recognized. “Foolish little sister, you are not some hero from a child’s tale fighting the world alone,” Gu Yanmei said softly. “Consider the effect of your words. I know Mother gave you the same lessons that I endured.”

Xiulan’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “The only reason I am truly valuable to the family is the risks I have taken. Will you gainsay that, Elder Sister?”

Silence answered her question, and Xiulan lowered her eyes, only to jerk to the side as her sister’s metallic fingernails impacted her temple in a perfectly executed flick. “I am not talking of politics, you insufferable girl. Father is young and hale, his position secure. Your actions affect your family. Do you imagine that Mother was not distressed enough to set the servants scurrying? That Father did not pace the throne room and make the great fires dance? That they did not consider withdrawing you immediately, face be damned? That they would rather have a live daughter than a dead hero?”

Xiulan hunched her shoulders further and further as her sister laid into her without once so much as raising her voice or altering her tone. Her sister’s points were driven by cold logic and unshakeable certainty. “You are my sister, Xiulan. Do not trivialize the value of your life.”

“I can’t afford to fall behind,” Xiulan rebutted in a small voice, drawing her knees up to her chest. Her elder sister’s words broke what remained of her reserve. “I can’t… I will not just be some irrelevant wife of a mediocre man.”

“You still imagine yourself to be trailing behind… Do you truly despise that boy so much?” Yanmei inquired. Xiulan sucked in a breath as her sister cinched the bandages tight around her ruined arm, letting the medicine-infused cloth begin doing its work. All that remained was her hand. “Is Fan Yu really so despicable?”

“He has no ambition,” Xiulan hissed. “He tags along on others’ coattails and wallows in his own mediocrity, pitying himself for his own failures. How could I not?”

Yanmei was silent as she went about the delicate task of wrapping Xiulan’s hand and fingers. It would probably have felt strange if she could feel anything beyond faint sensations of pressure and pain from that hand, Xiulan thought bitterly.

“I will speak with Father. The current arrangements are swiftly growing untenable regardless,” Yanemi finally said.

Xiulan started, looking up with wide eyes. “Sister, what…?”

“Do not be obtuse, Xiulan,” Gu Yanmei chided. “You have already set yourself upon the path to surpass most of our siblings. Do you imagine that we can afford to have you marry into another clan now?”

“Sister Xiurong is at the framing stage, and Xiuying nearly at completion,” Xiulan replied incredulously.

“Xiuying has been at completion since before your birth and is nearing her ninetieth year. Xiurong is fifty seven and more interested in raising her new son than further cultivation, Daiyu has no interest. Neither achieved the third realm at the age of fifteen,” Yanmei rebutted steadily.

Xiulan opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. Why was she even protesting? Was this not what she had hoped for, what she had strived for, suffering pain and disfigurement for?

“Do not take this as approval of your methods, little sister.” Gu Yanmei’s voice cut through her swelling feeling of accomplishment like a scalpel. “And given the current situation at the Sect…”

Xiulan’s elation cooled, thoughts of the battle coming back to the forefront of her mind. Elder Zhou dead, unknown assassins creeping about the battlefields, whatever that awful thing that had emerged from the husk of the mountain had been, Ling Qi nearly dead because she had been too slow and weak, too unreliable…

“You will have to begin preparing for the journey home soon,” Yanmei said, standing up from her seat on the divan. The bowl containing the ruined flesh from her arm vanished in a flash of heat.

“Wait - why must I?” Xiulan began, only for the answer to come to her before she could even finish her words.

“The Sect is at war, little sister. The Gu are no cowards, but the family cannot afford to risk the both of us,” her elder sister said, not turning back to look at her as she swept out of the room. “Rest now, Xiulan. Your energies are still unbalanced.”

Xiulan stared after her and then began to laugh. ...Getting what she wanted, indeed.

***

How long had it been, Cai Renxiang thought, since she had been in Mother’s court? Her day of birth would be next week, so nigh on ten years, it seemed, since the day that she had humiliated herself and Mother alike by failing to withstand the Duchess’ scrutiny. She had grown, if not strong, then at least more durable, since that day. She would not bring shame to the Cai name today.

Though her body kneeled in her residence at the Argent Peak Sect, to all of her senses, she kneeled, her head low, on the rich red carpet which led up to Mother’s high throne at the far end of the hall. The Great Hall of Xiangmen was a vast slab of marble far above the clouds, a dozen meters thick and many hundreds around, grasped in the curling branches of the living capital. One hundred meters overhead, the ceiling of woven cloud danced in complex patterns of color, said to be modeled off the skies of the far-off plains of living ice beyond the Wall where the Diviner himself had quested in his youth. The twelve vast pillars that supported it were each carved from the bones of a slain Beast God, the trophies of the Weilu’s conquest.

The throne itself was built from a single branch which breached the stone disk. Ten meters wide at the base, it rose nearly thirty meters through the air, curving up in a hook to shade the throne built halfway up its length with verdant foliage. Mother sat there, reclining in the cushioned throne, her radiance cast across the gathered court. The Prime Minister stood at her side, but she alone occupied the advisor’s platform built just below the throne.

All around her was the gathered court of Emerald Seas. The carefully selected courtiers of the comital houses and their vicontiel subordinates rubbed shoulders with the courtly nobility, those families which occupied the hierarchy of the capital itself and ruled over the day-to-day doings of its million souls. There were less of them now, if Cai Renxiang could judge from her faded memories of this place. Mother had been busy.

“And so, under the command of Core Disciple Jia Song, I led the vanguard against the northeastern outbreak.” Cai Renxiang spoke clearly and concisely. Here, before Mother with the weight of her expectation and power resting on her back like a boulder, she did not dare waste a single breath or syllable. “The enemy spirits were driven back and slain without casualty. The initial movements were a total success.”

“That did not last,” Mother Spoke, and the world listened. Her words were airy and light like a socialite commenting upon the weather but to a cultivator of the highest realm, there were more to words than mere vibration in the air. The Duchess’ statement held a sharp and terrible weight, and the Jia representative, a cyan cultivator, hunched his shoulders as if preparing for a blow, all of his practiced poise and cultivation rendered to naught by the mere inference of Mother’s attention.

“Core Disciple Jia Song ordered us into the breach,” Cai Renxiang continued. The Jia were still allies; they would not suffer much censure for this, nor did she wish them to. To hold a grudge such as that was not only inefficient but also the seed of the thoughts that would lead any ruler to vice. “As this was a military matter, I raised a point of contention but did not disobey commands. We descended and confronted the retreating enemy. It was a slaughter, but our distraction was used to strike at Core Disciple Jia, and further reinforcements waited in the tunnels. There were three casualties among the Inner disciples, one of which later became a fatality. During the battle, an enemy commander emerged. I estimate that he was of roughly framing stage in cultivation. We dueled, and I took his head.”

Cai Renxiang let out a careful breath. The tunnel had been claustrophobic and dark, lit only by her own radiance. The darting figure in the shadows and the envenomed edge of his knives returned to her. It was good that she had sparred so much against an opponent of similar mobility.

“However, the enemy we faced made heavy use of sacrificial techniques. The entity that emerged from their dead was beyond me,” Cai Renxiang admitted bluntly and without shame. “It was only Mother’s grace which allowed us victory.”

She remembered boiling black flesh, eyes beyond counting, and grasping, hungry mouths gnawing at her limbs. She remembered the traces of shen beyond the potency of any third realm technique punching through her defenses. Most of all, she remembered the second time in her life that Liming had truly awoken, the furious spiritual scream wiping her thoughts blank as she lost control of her limbs. The first time was a faded memory, the first and only time an assassin had dared seek her life and slipped past the attention of Lin Hai.

She did not care for it. Even now, Liming seethed beneath her conscious mind, twitching threads seeking to control her nerves. She still felt unclean, the total loss of control worse than any horror of the deep. Despite herself, she tightened her grip on Cifeng’s hilt, and the saber qi flowed through her channels, severing Liming’s angry susurrus from her thoughts.

Cai Renxiang kept her head low in the silence that followed the end of her report. The court was silent. Even the wind seemed silent. That torturous silence persisted before it was finally broken by a tiny sound, the faint click of a lacquered fingernail tapping against wood.

“Raise your head, Renxiang.” Mother’s command was harsh and final, none of her affected humor present.

Cai Renxiang did not hesitate to do so. High on the throne of Xiangmen, Cai Shenhua was no longer reclining. She sat tall and straight upon her throne, and the radiance of her eyes swept across the court. Each tiny click of her finger tapping against the armrest of the throne seemed to echo like thunder, and Cai Renxiang braced herself as that gaze fell upon her. Inhuman, heavy with expectation, it threatened to consume her as Mother’s gaze pierced her mind, seeking, shaping, pitiless.

“You performed acceptably, my daughter. I expect you to continue to do so. In the name of the Cai, you will punish any barbarian which encroaches upon our lands.” The words were like nails driven into her thoughts, and she could only nod in acceptance.

“It will be my honor to punish them in our name, Honored Mother,” Cai Renxiang accepted.

“Jia Shu.” The named man bowed low at the waist, all but kowtowing at the mention of his name from Cai Shenhua. “Inform your uncle that he needs to speak with his grandniece on matters of strategy.” The humor was returning, the languid tone that normally colored Mother’s words, but she was standing, and no one in court dared relax. “Esteemed members of my court, pass word to your clan heads. There is another border in our kingdom which requires reinforcement. Laxity in this matter is unacceptable.”

A flicker of something like an affectionate smile touched the Duchess’ lips. “Linqin, be a dear, and handle court for me today.”

“As you command, my lady,” the Prime Minister replied without batting an eyelash. “May I inquire as to what business will be occupying you?”

Cai Shenhua smiled fully, and there was nothing kind in her expression. “It seems that I have been too merciful. I will be taking a walk beneath the rootways. Arrange for soldiers to secure the route behind me.”

“Of course, my lady. Please be mindful on your stroll,” Diao Linqin said simply.

Cai Renxiang lowered her head, pain still clouding her thoughts where mother’s attention had lingered. She had been given her command. Mother would be busy, and so would she.

Threads Interlude Rivers and Rain

Enemies surrounded Heizui, thick as water weeds. Pikes came down, and the young dragon roared, his water shadow frothing white as they rebounded from it. Hooked blades snatched at his limbs, and Heizui coiled his body and launched forward. The river roared, and trees toppled as he emerged, snakelike, from the waters.

They were still all around him, moonlight glinting off of scale-patterned armor, unblinking eyes looking pitilessly down as they moved in lockstop, changing formation to bring their pikes to bear. Heizui wasted no time, claws digging into the mud as he charged across the damp earth, the snap of his uncoiling body booming like thunder.

His water shadow struck first, serpentine silhouette cracking against the pikeline. Three soldiers fell, opening a gap, and Heizui slipped through, scales glinting with frost as he armored himself against the incoming blows. His tail lashed out, knocking the knees from under the second rank. His claws flashed, and three pikes snapped in half. Heizui’s throat swelled, and a pressurized jet of water erupted from his mouth, cutting through the bulwark of steel greatshields in the last line.

There, just beyond them, was the exit to the valley. If he could just make it, then…

A gong rang out, and every one of the soldiers stopped. Heizui’s eyes widened, and the young dragon let out a furious growl. It definitely was not a plaintive whine.

“Time is up. Exercise failed.”

Heizui slumped, his bristling whiskers drooping at the disapproval there. He looked up to the immense shadow of his mother’s head.

Mother was all around him. She lounged atop the hills surrounding the valley, encircling the square kilometer of ground that she had put aside for his training. Her scales glistened like sapphires under the light of the Guiding Moon.

“But mother, I …” Heizui began plaintively as mother’s carp soldiers stepped away from him, leaving him alone under the twin lights of her eyes.

Her cold snort tore the leaves from trees all around and nearly sent the closest soldiers to their knees, frost spreading across the grass around him as well as his scales. Heizui cowered under her disapproving gaze.

“Do not take that tone with me, child. Does your shell still cling to your scales? Or have you simply lost all of your pride, lazing about and getting trounced by Outer Sect disciples?” Qingshe’s voice was the roar of a river in its spring flooding. “The time limit was clear.”

“Yes, mother.” Heizui did his best to keep the sulking edge out of his voice.

Starting last year, everything had gone wrong. First, that annoying girl had beaten him, and then, she had gone and vanished, never giving him a chance to right the hierarchy. He had been working hard. Really! He was certain that if that girl and her irritating spirit showed up again, he would put her in her place.

Now, just because some idiot human elder had gotten himself killed, mother had decided that she needed to work him to the bone. It just wasn’t fair.

He could feel the bruises forming under his scales, the claws on his right forefoot were cracked, and he was missing three fangs. Mother’s carp soldiers weren’t going easy at all.

Mother narrowed her eyes, and Heizui drooped further. Qingshe lowered her head closer to the muddy field. Her whiskers alone were longer than his whole body. “Heizui. This is not a game.”

“I know, mother,” Heizui said.

“You do not!” his mother roared, and a tree toppled. Heizui had to dig his talons in the earth, and even then, they dug deep furrows as he was pushed back to the rivers behind. “Do you understand, child, that the cloud men are going to war again?”

“But that’s just a human thing,” Heizui complained. Frustration and soreness boiled over to drown his deference. “They’ll take care of it.”

“Thinking in such a way will leave you to the same fate as your idiot father,” Qingshe said coldly.

Heizui felt a chill, running all the way down to the tip of his tail. He had made a mistake. Mother never mentioned father unless she was furious with him.

“The cloud men are enemies of dragonkind,” Qingshe growled, full of hate. “They are weak and fragmented, but you will not forget that. When they remember themselves, they are a threat. There are not enough of us to face them alone as the gods of old did. That is why I bound myself to a human. That is why the Patriarch of the South made alliance with Yuan He. I had hoped that your humiliation would teach you to cease underestimating humans.”

It had only been a temporary defeat, Heizui wanted to say, but he thought better of it. “We are their betters though,” Heizui muttered.

“We are,” Qingshe rumbled, and she sounded tired, if only for a moment. “It takes many, many thousands of humans to produce an individual who may match our natural might, and hundreds of thousands or more to match the greatest of us.”

Qingshe fixed her gaze upon him. “Yet, Heizui,” she said, “there are more than a million humans for every one of us. Our divinity is tainted, and the power of the gods sealed beyond the Father’s Hearth. The Decrees are heavy upon our necks.”

Heizui cringed, pawing at the river mud. To speak aloud of the great shame, mother had to be serious. He felt small and pathetic. Maybe he really was being childish. “I am sorry, mother. I won’t complain anymore.”

One of Qingshe’s great claws rose, trailing boulders and vegetation, and a single talon longer than a horse stroked his back. Heizui squirmed, embarrassed by the display of affection. “Good. Then you understand that I am not going to let you die and leave your old mother alone. Return to the starting point.”

“Yes, mother,” Heizui sighed. This was going to be terrible.

threads 73-Normalcy 1

“Are you sure you want to be doing this now?” Yu Nuan asked.

“Would you prefer that I forget the favor I owe to you for another month?” Ling Qi asked back tiredly as they walked the steep mountain path, ascending toward the peak and the clouds.

“No, just…” the girl began awkwardly before shaking her head, her piercings jingling in the wind. “Y’know what, fine. Not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Not like I can afford to stay without a spirit the way things are.”

Ling Qi hummed in agreement. She understood what the girl was getting at.

Zhengui was still in a restorative sleep. The way he had forcibly broken through to the next stage and forced the evolution of his techniques all at once had exhausted him; her poor little brother had not stayed conscious for much longer than her. The sheer quantity of diseased ichor that had stained him didn’t help matters, weakening his regeneration a great deal. The Sect’s physicians had assured her he would wake within two days however.

She had already visited her family, hugged her trembling mother and little sister. No physical danger had come near them, and the soldiers assigned to her home had come at her mother’s call to kill the thing that had tried to crawl out of the basement with things remaining safe otherwise. Biyu’s distress seemed wholly born from sensing their mother’s distress. Mother, being awakened, had been able to sense just enough to know that something was terribly wrong. Ling Qi would return in the evening once the chaos in town had subsided to hear their story in full.

Suyin was busy, dragged off to collaborate with several higher cultivation disciples, including a member of the Core Sect. Xiulan was with her sister still, the battle and her extensive use of qi having agitated her injury. Meizhen was dealing with inquiries from her clan, and her liege was corresponding with the capital. The mountain was a hive of activity.

Her wound still throbbed. Even with Gu Yanmei’s intervention, much of her flesh had been ruined, and the physicians had had to cut it away and induce the growth of new flesh to replace it. Her throat had been saved by the sheer concentration of qi which moved through it, thanks to her specialties. Yanmei’s healing had saved her, but the raw solar qi poured into her veins had also misaligned her cold and dark meridians, leaving techniques that used those meridians difficult to use for a time. It would pass soon, but it left her feeling itchy and intemperate.

“You know, you said we needed to go up the mountain, but what are we looking for? I thought you were looking for something by the waterfalls.”

“I was, but if you’re helping, I might as well get ambitious,” Yu Nuan replied, giving her a curious look. Ling Qi noticed then that she had slipped back into more common modes of speech. She really was tired. “I want to bind a thunder beast,” the other girl said with finality.

“Oh? The things that’ll nest in your navel if you sleep outside too often?” Ling Qi asked.

“That’s just a dumb story,” Yu Nuan scoffed. “They’re powerful, aligned with wind and thunder, and can even grow to cyan now and then. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not much of a fighter. I need something that can keep enemies back while I play. It’s not like I’m gonna find a qilin or a dragon so a thunder beast is my best bet.”

“What were you looking for before then?” Ling Qi asked.

“Was trying to attract fairies - wind and sun types,” Yu Nuan admitted as they reached the top of the path. “Thought I had time to experiment, find something compatible. Your little… Hanyi bumbled right through and broke the attraction formation I’d bought.”

Ling Qi grimaced, dipping her head in apology. “Alright, thunder beasts then. Do you have a plan?” She eyed the storm darkened clouds above.

“I composed something, yeah,” Yu Nuan replied, shading her eyes as she peered up. “Figured I would find the highest solid perch I could, and then you could fly around… and, uh…” She paused, looking unsure.

“You want me to play sheepdog?” Ling Qi asked, amused.

“That’s about right,” Yu Nuan answered, chagrined.

Ling Qi wished the girl would stop being so leery of her, but it was to be expected. On the other hand, there might be a better way. <What do you think, Sixiang?>

To her chagrin, silence was her answer. She felt her shoulders droop at that; Sixiang hadn’t spoken since she woke up. She could still feel her muse. They were healthy and hale, just turned inward. Ling Qi shook her head. Sixiang would speak when they were done cultivating. She was sure.

Still, she glanced between Yu Nuan and the clouds. Herding spirits was all well and good, but wouldn’t they respect someone who met them in their own element more?

“That sounds fine,” Ling Qi started, “but wouldn’t you have better odds of a willing binding if you met them on their terms? Thunder is ambitious and proud after all.”

“Maybe, but we can’t all have priceless talismans of flight,” Yu Nuan said irritably. “It’s the best I can do.”

Ling Qi gave her a sidelong look. “It’s not like you’re that heavy. I could just carry you.”

The other girl shot her a suspicious look. “What?”

“I could just carry you,” Ling Qi repeated. She didn’t care for such close physical contact, but it really was the best solution. “It might be a little awkward to do so and leave your hands free to play, but it’s not hard either.”

Yu Nuan stared blankly at her as if Ling Qi had just suggested something absurd. “And you would be fine with that?”

“I would not have suggested it otherwise,” Ling Qi replied archly.

Yu Nuan studied her expression but then finally shrugged. “Alright. How do you want to do this?”

Working out the carry was more difficult than she would have liked. Even if she was taller than Yu Nuan, having the other girl sit on her back was awkward, and lacking Hanyi’s bond and nature, Yu Nuan tended to fall through whenever Ling Qi sped up, maneuvered sharply, or crossed distances without moving. Since her hands had to be free, she couldn’t keep a hold on Ling Qi’s shoulders either. Still, they eventually came to a solution.

“Gods, just make sure you don’t slip,” Yu Nuan muttered as they soared up toward the belly of the clouds, her legs dangling freely toward the ground so far below. Ling Qi had her arms looped under the other girl’s. Her vision was blocked by the other girl’s head and hair, but that was what her mirror motes were for.

“It’ll be fine.” Ling Qi grimaced, pulling her head back to avoid the other girl’s hair from getting into her mouth, and a tiny gust buffeted the longer strands out of her face. “Just tell me where we need to go. You studied their habits, right?”

“Yeah,” Yu Nuan said nervously. “Well, since we can… go up, right above the clouds, I’ll be able to see the storms channels better from above.”

Ling Qi restrained the urge to shrug. If the other girl could handle the altitude, that was fine. Without being able to use her techniques, the flight was painfully slow, especially since she had to remain cautious and careful of her own solidity. “What were things like back here on the mountain?” Ling Qi asked.

Yu Nuan strummed a few basic chords on her lute, more out of nervous habit than anything else. “The tribes didn’t get this far, but things still came outta the earth. A whole lot of them,” she said. “It was pretty chaotic on the first mountain, but a pair of Core disciples came down and put a stop to the squabbling.”

Ling Qi’s eyebrows rose, but she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. “How did you fare?”

Yu Nuan grimaced at the sudden damp as they entered the cloud layer. “Nothing heroic like you,” she said, and Ling Qi could not tell if she was being sarcastic or not. “I got rounded up to support the lower nine hundreds, and we drove off the bugs that tried to swarm up the mountain. They were going for the vents, I think. Wasn’t glamorous, but I did my job. Didn’t…” Ling Qi sensed a twinge of bitterness from the other girl. “Didn’t let anyone in my group die.”

“That’s not an accomplishment to spit on,” Ling Qi said as they soared up and up through the rain-bloated belly of the storm clouds, the light from above growing brighter as they neared the surface.

Yu Nuan grunted something noncommittal.

“Anyway,” Ling Qi began as they broke through into the blue morning sky above. “Which way d’you think…”

She trailed off as she looked south over the slow moving field of dark clouds and saw a vast golden arch rising from them, then beyond it, another and another. The arches were tens of meters across and hundreds long, and for a moment, Ling Qi mistook them for some kind of structure, but she had never seen such a thing above Argent Peak, the core of the Sect. Then it dawned on her. The glittering golden scales, the weblike ridges waving lazily from the back of the arches, and there, the contours of a titanic leg…

She knew, intellectually, that there was a reason that their Sect Head Yuan He was so well respected and their Sect so prestigious. But it was a different thing entirely to see his spirit companion, the Celestial Dragon King of the South, in the flesh. She had not felt his presence, but the great beast was not concealing it. No, looking south, seeing the source with her own eyes, she understood. She had felt the dragon’s qi but had not realized it because it was the storm. Sect Head Yuan was not restraining himself.

“Not that way,” Yu Nuan said thickly.

“Not that way,” Ling Qi agreed, veering north and west. There was plenty of storm. No need to pester their elders.

Keeping their backs to the unsettling sight, they flew in silence as Yu Nuan searched.

The storm rolling out from the Wall spread over a vast distance, and dense knots of thunder, lightning, and water qi were prevalent. Ling Qi dove down into the clouds at Yu Nuan’s direction and began to wrangle the thunder beasts they found. Thunder beasts appeared as great canines the size of horses made from dark clouds rather than flesh. Lightning crackled beneath their cloud flesh like veins and bones,and their barks were the boom of thunder.

They were quick beasts and bounded away her approach, but she was faster, even with the constraints she was operating under. With her hands occupied, Ling Qi instead channeled the mercurial qi of the moon as she dove in among the masses of little spirits of wind, water, and thunder that the beasts circled. Phantasmal dancers and musicians burst forth from her frame, already laughing and singing as they enveloped and disoriented the thunder beasts.

Once she had entrapped a pack, with a flex of her qi, she lowered the cacophony of the revel and allowed Yu Nuan to take center stage with her own composition. Yu Nuan’s melody was strident and loud with a strong beat and quick metre like a storm in miniature itself. It was amusing to watch the wild beasts stop tearing around her revel trying to escape and instead come loping in to circle them and howl in time with Yu Nuan’s song, adding their voices to it.

Yet time and time again, when Ling Qi made to approach with Yu Nuan, they darted away. She could have caught them of course, whirled them back to the core of the revel with laughing phantasms, but Yu Nuan wanted to try for a willing binding first.

So they went for much of the morning, hopping between the most concentrated parts of the storm, one after another, a trail of curious thunder beasts following along in their wake. Frankly, Ling Qi wished that if they were so interested, they would just engage properly and let Yu Nuan bind them.

As she swept into the largest concentration of thunder beasts yet, scattering the little spirits of the storm like a school of fish around a thrown stone, and began to move to capture the beasts in her revel, she found herself interrupted. Darting forward, she glimpsed a pale blue palm shaped like a man’s but too large before a gust of wind and boom of thunder threw her tumbling back. In her arms, Yu Nuan let out a shout of alarm, nearly fumbling her lute as Ling Qi seized the winds to right herself and found them unresponsive and reluctant to follow her command.

“Hoh! That will be enough of distracting my herding dogs.” The voice was male and boomed with the rumble of a storm. A flickering mote of silver turned in the folds of her dress, and she got a good look at her assailant. Three meters tall, the spirit had the outline of a man. The red eyes like that of a crow’s were set in a human-like face but stared back at her from above a sharp and pointed beak, and wings like a bat beat against the air. The spirit’s chest was that of a well muscled man and was bare to the waist, but the legs, covered by a rough loincloth of animal hides, ended in the talons of a bird. In one hand, the spirit held a silver mallet, more like a drummer’s tool than a weapon.

Leigong, the thought came to her immediately, the little gods, shepherds of storms, and highly ranked among the spirits of air and heaven. Memories of childhood stories and common legend mixed with memories of study in the archives. Even as she righted her body, she tried to sort out her thoughts. The spirit was fourth realm; she couldn’t afford to give offense.

“My apologies, great one. We did not mean to disturb your work,” Ling Qi said hurriedly, dipping her head.

“Yes, absolutely not.” Yu Nuan was quick to agree, holding very still in her arms. “We only meant to tame a wild beast.”

“My deepest regrets for our error,” Ling Qi continued. “It is my fault entire, so if amends need be made, allow me to do so.” She wasn’t going to repay Yu Nuan’s courtesy by letting her take the blame for this. Leigong were supposed to be honorable sorts anyway. The other girl shot Ling Qi an incredulous look over her shoulder.

The fourth realm spirit looked down upon them, his inhuman face unreadable. “I am not much bothered by your game, and your music is pleasing to mine ears. Few mortals so well capture the clash and clamor of my realm,” the spirit rumbled. “However, the King’s ire threatens to drown the land, and my court must keep order. Now is not the time for revels.”

They both dipped their heads, Ling Qi in chagrined apology and Yu Nuan still mostly in fear. “Let us cease distracting you then, Lord of Storms,” Ling Qi said as eloquently as she was able.

“I thank you for your kind words and forgiveness,” Yu Nuan added in a tight voice.

Ling Qi began to withdraw only to stop dead as the spirit threw out his empty hand. “Nay, children, I will not end your quest in failure. The drums of war beat in mountain and glen, in the sky, and below the earth. Thou desirest a hound, and so thou wilt have one, little storm singer, in the hope that you might live and play in happier days.”

Ling Qi looked on blankly, her eyes wide as the spirit let out a shrill whistle despite lacking the anatomy for it, and a great shaggy thunder beast bounded out of the churning clouds, padding up to them with a booming bark. She only blinked when the spirit beast licked Yu Nuan’s face with a tongue of crackling lightning, making the girl’s hair frizz outwards with static.

Yu Nuan spluttered, not harmed by the electricity but just as stunned as Ling Qi. “Just like that?” she asked incredulously.

“Hoho, call it an old man’s whim,” the spirit chuckled. “When the King no longer hangs in the sky, seek out the Thunder Palace. Too long has it been since new talent warmed my hall.”

Then he was gone, taking the pack and the herd of lesser spirits with him in a single flash of lightning, and they were left floating in the clouds, kept company only by the massive thunder beast. It let out a cheerful wuff that sounded like a gale wind and regarded them with a panting dog-like grin.

“... That’s what people mean when they talk about your luck, huh?” Yu Nuan asked.

“Yes,” Ling Qi admitted uncomfortably.

“I guess I can’t complain,” the older girl huffed, reaching out tentatively to scratch the panting beast under the chin. “Thanks.”

“Any time. Do you want to do the binding here or down on the ground?” Ling Qi asked.

“Best get it done now before the world decides to make sense again.” Yu Nuan laughed.

Ling Qi nodded as Yu Nuan began the binding ritual. She thought the girl was being a bit over dramatic, but she was glad to see someone else having good fortune. Still, with her obligation repaid, she should start checking up on everyone.

Threads 74-Normalcy 2

“So that’s the situation,” Ling Qi finished, standing beside her mother near the fireplace. She had told her mother everything important of the battles she had fought, what was happening at the Sect, and why Ling Qi had not come sooner. Ling Qi had brought her here; she deserved to know.

Beside her, Ling Qingge hugged herself tightly, a faint tremble in her shoulders, and Ling Qi looked down. Of course she was afraid given everything that had happened.

“You - you foolish girl.” Ling Qi glanced to her side, eyebrows rising at her mother’s harsh whisper. “Why would you deliberately take a blow like that?” Her eyebrows climbed higher as the older woman rounded on her. “What were you thinking?”

Ling Qi blinked slowly. That was what had bothered her mother? “My techniques meant I could take it, and it ensured the assassin did not get away to strike again. It was the best choice,” she defended. “The potency of the poison was more than I expected, but-”

“Please promise me you will not do such a thing again,” her mother cut her off, giving her a pleading look.

Ling Qi met her eyes, and she hesitated at the look on her mother’s face. However, she couldn’t lie, not to her mother and not about this. “I would do the same for you or Biyu,” she said quietly.

Ling Qingge searched her face, eyes still pleading, and then her shoulders slumped marginally. At that moment, her mother seemed older, just as Sect Head Yuan had seemed older. “Very well,” her mother said, and if not for her cultivation, Ling Qi would not have detected the trace of bitterness in her voice.

Silence, awkward and tense, fell between them. Ling Qi stared into the fire. Her wound itched. Finally, she spoke up tentatively, “You said there was an intrusion in the house. Was anyone hurt?”

Mother didn’t reply immediately, but after a second or two she shook her head. “No. Luckily, I was by the cellar stairs when the thing tried to crawl out, and our guards came quickly.”

“What was it?” Ling Qi asked. Her fingers itched for a knife for the first time in many months. She knew whatever it was had died, but all the same…

Her mother’s features screwed up in disgust. “It is difficult to describe. It was like a great hairless rat with the feet and hands of a man.”

As she suspected then, Ling Qi thought grimly. The things she had encountered on her expedition with Suyin were definitely the source of all this. They would pay for many things, but threats to her home were especially unacceptable.

“I have a friend who specializes in security formations. I will make sure we have something more potent installed soon,” she said tightly. It had been there since she had heard of the attack on her family, but the seed of ice cold fury in her heart that had been born at the news burned in the back of her thoughts. She felt her bond with Hanyi resonate and the sluggish cold qi in her arms pulse.

Ling Qi breathed out, leashing the cold that threatened to spill out until it was only the chill breeze of a cold fall day. “How is Biyu?” she asked, her voice calm again.

“She was frightened by the noise and the tension, but she has already forgotten it, as children often do with things outside their awareness,” Ling Qingge sighed.

Ling Qi couldn’t help but wonder if mother was inserting a little double meaning there. She would not begrudge her that. Her thoughts turned to the other subject she wanted to bring up with her mother. The Sect was not a safe place anymore, not until this was resolved, so…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock at the door of the room. It spoke of Ling Qi’s distraction that she had not noticed the mortal presence approaching the door, but it was only one of the servants. She had acclimated enough to their presence that they no longer stood out and were just part of the tapestry of qi that made up the household.

Sixiang would probably chide her for that, Ling Qi thought wryly. She began to answer, but then glanced at her mother as the older woman did the same, briefly meeting her eyes. Ling Qi lowered her head slightly in deference.

“Enter,” her mother said crisply, the lines of worry on her face smoothing away. The etiquette really did come easier to her.

The door opened, and the young woman outside bowed deeply. “My apologies for the interruption, Madam Ling, Lady Ling.” There was still a faint tremble in her voice, but like the others, she was getting better at interacting with Ling Qi. “There are guests at the door, requesting entrance, and they, uh…” She stumbled over her words, wringing her hands.

“Who are the guests?” her mother asked patiently, giving the girl a moment to recover.

“The Ladies Xiao and Su, disciples of the Sect. They say they are here to see Lady Ling,” the girl hurried out.

Ling Qi’s eyebrows rose, and she stretched her qi senses. The auras of her friend and her student waited outside the gate. Su Ling felt irritable like a banked fire crackling with embers, while Xiao Fen felt like a snake hissing fearsomely in its burrow, as usual.

“Please show them in,” her mother said, giving Ling Qi a brief look. As the girl left, she added in a quieter voice, “Let us defer the matter we were speaking of.”

“Yes,” Ling Qi agreed, dipping her head. She suspected that they were thinking of different matters. She turned away from the fire, heading toward the door.

“Is there anything I should know of our guests?” Ling Qingge asked, following her out.

“They are friends,” Ling Qi replied. Xiao Fen was a sort of friend, right? “Su Ling is common born like me but spirit blooded. Xiao Fen is Bai Meizhen’s handmaiden.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother pause at the second thing, nervously worrying at her lower lip. “Since the visit is so sudden, I am aware that they must not be expecting full amenities, but should I…?”

“Given the current situation, I doubt they are here for personal matters,” Ling Qi said. “There won’t be trouble.” If there was, she would not let Xiao Fen get off lightly the next time they trained.

Her mother sighed at Ling Qi’s nonchalance but nodded. “I will have the veranda set for tea then.”

Mother gave instruction to the first member of the household staff they passed, and in a few more moments, they had reached the entrance way of the house. Su Ling and Xiao Fen waited there, attended by one very nervous looking girl. Xiao Fen looked much the same as the last time she had seen her, though her cultivation had improved. She was nearing the peak of the second realm and would probably get there by the beginning of next month.

As for Su Ling, Ling Qi had not seen the other girl in half a year. She looked healthy. Her friend had lost the last signs of malnutrition that had clung to her frame, and her dark hair had lost the last of its stringiness. Although her skin was still sun darkened and lacked the softness that most would call beautiful, she had put on a bit of muscle, if Ling Qi was any judge. She wore thick workmanlike clothing and had the same sharp features and familiar, permanently disgruntled expression.

“Su Ling, Xiao Fen,” she greeted, her mother trailing a few steps behind her. “I am surprised but not unhappy. What brings you to our home on such short notice?”

Su Ling let out a snort at her polite words. “Saw you flying over. Got something I have to ask you. Kinda hard to get the chance these days.”

Xiao Fen’s expression was more grudging, eyeing Su Ling irritably. “I am doing a certain individual a favor and providing security since Miss Su’s normal guards were injured in his defense. However, there is a matter it would be prudent for us to speak of, but it is not urgent.”

Ling Qi’s eyebrows rose. Su Ling’s normal guard? Had things… No, looking at Su Ling’s thunderous expression, she realized that Xiao Fen was probably talking about the Ma sisters. They must have been hurt in the invasion. “I hope their injuries were not too bad?” she asked, looking to Su Ling.

“Medical for a week,” Su Ling grunted. “Gan’s covering it.”

Ling Qi took only a moment to digest that but then nodded, remembering her manners. “I am glad. Welcome, then. This is my mother, Ling Qingge; she is the head of the household since I am usually away.” She gestured to her mother, who had managed to smooth away the visible worry on her face brought about by having cultivator guests. Knowing Mother, she had probably hoped for rather more warning the first time.

“You are welcome in my home, honored guests,” the older woman said, bowing her head. “If it pleases you, I have instructed my staff to lay out refreshments on the garden veranda.”

Xiao Fen was the first to respond, clasping her hands in front of her chest and giving a perfunctory but not disrespectful bow. “That will be acceptable, Madam Ling. I will be pleased to accept your hospitality.”

Su Ling, on the other hand, seemed to have been brought up short by the introduction, glancing between Ling Qi and Ling Qingge. Her jaw worked silently for a moment but then she ducked her head before Ling Qi could read the emotion in her eyes. “... Yeah. Thank you for the hospitality,” she replied tersely. By the time she raised her head again, her expression was set in its usual default.

There was a little more polite back and forth as she led her friends inside, passing through the halls of the house until they came out in the gardens where a number of chairs had been set out around the table that occupied part of the veranda. One of their staff was nervously setting up for tea when they arrived. She felt bad for the girl, who made a sound not unlike a squeak of alarm when she saw them exit before she had finished.

“So before we sit down, you said there was something you wanted to discuss, Su Ling?” Ling Qi asked blithely, studiously ignoring the girl and instead proceeding to the waist-high railing that overlooked the garden. It was better to let her staff finish without acknowledging the problem.

Su Ling shot her an unreadable look, prowling up to stand beside her and lean against the rail. Her two tails waved agitatedly behind her. “Yeah. I want to know who you’ve been talking me up to,” she said bluntly. “I know you like to be generous, even when it’s not asked for. I want to know why I’m getting rounded up for a serious fu…” She paused, glancing back at Ling Qingge. “A serious venture down below,” she finished vaguely.

Ling Qi looked at her blankly. “I haven’t done anything of the sort,” she replied. “Su Ling, I was in medical recovery until yesterday evening.”

Su Ling’s brows furrowed. “Then why...?”

“I already told you,” Xiao Fen grumbled, crossing her arms haughtily as she strolled up beside them. “You showed that your divinations were not obscured as the more modern practitioners were. Diviners of the old spirit blooded styles are thin on the ground in these lesser days.” Xiao Fen sniffed. “Be happy that the bureaucrats are being shaken from their complacency that you might shine.”

Su Ling shot her a foul look. “And I told you that it was just a gut feeling, ‘less you think they want me sitting around to cast bones in a fire. ‘Sides, I’m not scummy enough to be happy about what’s going on right now for any reason.”

Ling Qi glanced past them to her mother, who looked lost. She was hiding it well though. “What is this about an expedition?” Ling Qi asked, smoothly cutting in before the two could get back into what was clearly a previous argument. She missed Sixiang’s silent nudging. They were so much better at this.

“There’s some planning going on,” Su Ling explained unhappily. “Don’t know the full picture, but the Sect isn’t gonna take the stuff from the caves coming up lightly.”

“It feels foolish to move so quickly, but my eyes do not see as those above do,” Xiao Fen said. “Well, I do not expect those trusted by Lady Suzhen will be hasty, blood mad fools. I expect punitive measures to be well planned.”

No, Xiao Fen, tell us how you really feel, Ling Qi thought. Still, the fact that the Sect was gearing up for expeditions into the darkness below… Did that mean that Elder Zhou had been felled by something like that assassin, only exponentially more potent? The exact details of his death had still not been revealed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the table was fully set.

“Our refreshments are prepared, Lady Su, Lady Xiao,” Ling Qingge said before she could. The conversation had turned her expression to one of worry.

“Thank you, Madam Ling,” Xiao Fen replied politely

“Don’t call me ‘lady,’” Su Ling grimaced. “Seriously though, you haven’t said anything?” she asked, turning her eyes back to Ling Qi.

“I haven’t,” Ling Qi replied steadily. “I know you don’t want that.” What was with those rolled eyes, Xiao Fen? Bai Meizhen’s handmaiden was developing some bad habits in her presence.

“And what did you want to say, Xiao Fen?” she asked as they moved to take their seats.

“Only that our lessons would have to cease for a time given the situation, Lady Ling,” she replied, perfectly polite. “I, of course, very much look forward to their resumption.”

Ling Qi eyed her for a moment but nodded in agreement. The real purpose of their lessons was defunct for a time given the truce being declared in the Outer Sect. “Is that so? I will miss our lessons,” she said cheerfully. “We will have to find another way to stay in contact.”

“Sect’s not exactly restricting contact hard right now,” Su Ling grunted, fighting a smirk at the sinking of Xiao Fen’s expression.

“... Yes,” Xiao Fen said, her face blank.

Mother studied all three of them with furrowed brows, clearly trying to work out the real flow of the conversation. Ling Qi suspected that her mother might be trying too hard to see beyond the obvious. Still, it was heartening that, even if she kept her peace, her mother could deal with the presence of a pair of cultivators.

As the conversation continued, Ling Qi watched her mother. She saw Ling Qingge’s careful, practiced poise and the stewing concern under the facade as she answered a question of Xiao Fen’s in a polite and demure voice. Though this had been an unexpected and sudden visit, her mother had been preparing herself very rigorously.

Her thoughts turned back to what she had been considering, standing before the fire. Should she send mother, Biyu, and the rest of the household away until things settled down? It would cost her some stones, but she could settle them in a barony a little further north, away from the incursions.

She thought back to her mother’s frustration and bitterness that had briefly surfaced during their conversation in the hearth room. Was she really going to suggest that her mother abandon her again? Whatever she thought she would be arguing, that would be what she was asking.

Ling Qi felt herself relax as she decided to drop the idea, a snarl in her qi flow that she had not even noticed forming smoothing out. Even if it meant they might be in danger, she couldn’t force her decisions on her family. Later, she would talk with her mother, and together, they would determine what precautions that the household would take and how to increase the security of the house. She would give the staff the chance to leave as they had not signed up for this, but family was a different matter.

“Oi, you alright, Ling Qi?” Su Ling spoke, shaking her out of her thoughts. The other girl’s pointed canine ears flicked in a way that she knew denoted concern. “You kinda spaced out.”

“Sorry, I was lost in thought. There is a lot to think about lately,” Ling Qi replied.

The atmosphere at the table darkened, and Su Ling nodded slowly, her natural scowl deepening. “You’re not wrong. Things are going to be rough for awhile.”

“They are barbarian trash, no matter what form they take,” Xiao Fen sniffed. “Even with everything that has happened in recent millenia, the Empire is strong. From what I have seen, your duchess has done much work to straighten out the fractious rabble which has so long dragged the Emerald Seas down.”

“You would think that a Bai would know to be more diplomatic,” Ling Qi said dryly.

Xiao Fen arched a scaly eyebrow. “Oh, I am not speaking of any still extant individuals. How bold of you to presume that I would make such a gaffe,” she retorted coolly.

Ling Qi maintained eye contact with Xiao Fen a moment longer. The girl really was well practiced at that sort of thing, wasn’t she?

“My apologies if my question might seem unknowledgeable,” Ling Qingge interjected tentatively. Ling Qi glanced to the side, surprised to hear her mother take the initiative. “But what do you believe the Empire’s response will be? Will the army come?”

“Hell if I know. Sect is gonna mobilize all the way.” Su Ling shrugged. “Will the folks further away bother? Who knows. They’ll probably just look to their own.”

“How cynical of you,” Xiao Fen said, pouring herself a new cup. “I think you underestimate the scale of this insult, Miss Su.”

“Do I?” Su Ling asked blandly.

Ling Qi thought but then shook her head. “I think you do, Su Ling. It’s not a matter of altruism or selflessness,” Ling Qi said, remembering the studying Cai Renxiang had put her through, the picture of the Emerald Seas she had so painstakingly assembled in her mind. “It is a matter of legitimacy. If the things I have heard since I woke up are correct, this is the largest and boldest incursion since Duchess Cai ascended to the throne, even ignoring the new enemies.”

“Ah. Well, shit,” Su Ling said gruffly, clearly understanding the words she had not said. Considering that the Cai rose to their position partially on the lackluster response of the previous ducal clan, the Hui, to Ogodei’s invasion, the Cai had to respond strongly to barbarian incursions. “This is gonna get bloody, innit?”

“Quite,” Xiao Fen said. “To answer the question I believe Madam Ling was truly asking however, the Sect will likely focus on reconnaissance and defense until the other pieces have moved into place. This town is the gateway to the Sect, the place through which its production flows into the rest of the Empire. It is likely that great effort will be made to make it safe from new threats.”

If only because the Sect couldn’t afford to have their “face” damaged further, Ling Qi mused. She was thankful that the Sect had given her a home in the inner part of the town. It was good to benefit from the structure of the Empire for once, instead of being out in the gutters and fields. “Mmm, I don’t doubt that the elders are unhappy with being caught unawares.” Elder Jiao in particular, for all his lax attitude, struck her as a fundamentally prideful man.

“Feh, at least their pride will do some good,” Su Ling grumbled. “I guess I won’t object to checking things out below. Can’t let people get caught out again.”

“We can discuss improving the house’s security later, mother. My friend Li Suyin has done a lot of development on formations.” She just had to convince mother to put up with skeletons in the basement. Hopefully, Suyin had refined it further; the version of the array Ling Qi knew was not sufficient for a house with a full staff.

“Suyin does good work,” Su Ling agreed, finishing her tea.

“I am reassured,” Ling Qingge said, dipping her head.

Ling Qi spotted a nervous servant signalling her mother from inside the house. Mother glanced over before excusing herself to converse with the woman, but Ling Qi couldn’t help but overhear. Apparently, Biyu was being quarrelsome since this was usually around the time she was allowed out to play in the garden. She glanced over at her friends. She could probably save them some trouble, and it wasn’t like this was some official meeting.

“Would either of you be bothered if my little sister came out to play in the garden while we have our tea?”

“The hell kinda snob do you think I am?” Su Ling snorted. “Just about done anyway. Got stuff to do.”

“Is she teethed?” Xiao Fen asked.

Ling Qi paused, caught short by the bizarre question from Xiao Fen. “... Yes?” Ling Qi answered.

“Then it is no trouble,” Xiao Fen replied as if the question was normal. “Ah, if you would, when you see Lady Meizhen next, inform her that despite my setback, I will join her in the third realm soon. I will be prepared to serve her properly as soon as possible.”

Ling Qi nodded slowly then stood up to go speak with her mother. She was not even going to ask.

Threads 75-Normalcy 3

Ling Qi was in a good mood by the next morning. After her friends had left, she had spent more time with her mother and sister and discussed what they were going to do.

The offer to fund a trip back to a settlement of their choice had been extended to the staff, and to Ling Qi’s mild surprise, no one had taken it. Given what the women had been doing before, Ling Qi wasn’t too surprised. Ling Qi reminded herself to budget for extra space when it came time to design a proper “panic room” for the house. They weren’t family, not to her, but to mother…

Well, she would work out the details with Li Suyin tomorrow. She had already sent a message to the other girl and received a reply; Suyin would be happy to help. Ling Qi had even haggled her up to accepting two green stones, more than cost for her work. Ling Qi chuckled to herself as she remembered the fierce battle of words against her friend’s generosity.

Ling Qi paused along the mountain path, peering out toward the province interior for a moment. She was still worried, still anxious, and still angry, but she had done what she could.

She rolled her shoulders, grimacing at the twinge of pain from her still healing wound. It was going to linger for another day or two, the medics said. Ling Qi would be glad to see it gone, but for now, she had to head up the Inner Sect mountain to meet her liege. Cai Renxiang would undoubtedly have marching orders for her. She just wondered what exactly the Duchess had in mind.

However, as she reached the top of the cliffside path, Ling Qi paused, feeling a familiar qi. It emerged from the blank space that represented Cai Renxiang’s home in her spiritual senses. She was not terribly surprised to feel Meizhen’s aura, but she was not alone. A moment later, as she reached the top of the path, she saw them.

Bai Meizhen was immaculate in her usual way, gliding down the path, unmarked by the recent violence. At her side was a tall and gangly figure, Li Suyin’s mentor, Bao Qingling. She could not hear their words of course, obscured as they were by a dense web of qi filaments and the pressure of the deep, but the sight still seemed strange.

Each time she had met Bao Qingling, the girl had been stiff, taciturn, and irritable. She was like Su Ling except condescending and arrogant, and yet there was something more animated about her as she spoke with Bai Meizhen, gesticulating with her hands. The sharp, jerky movements reminded her of a spider plucking at its web.

Meizhen was as sedate as ever, only responding periodically, nodding or smiling faintly in response. She was also, Ling Qi noted clinically, walking a bit closer to Bao Qingling’s side than was strictly appropriate, and the prickly Bao did not seem to find this objectionable. It made her feel odd, and the dark qi in her channels stirred sluggishly. She clamped down on it. It was unfair of her to feel that way, and she had grown past that. She was happy that her friend was making more connections.

Meizhen met her eyes then, and the girl blinked in surprise. Suddenly, the pressure that surrounded the pair faded. “Ling Qi? I did not recognize you. Are you well?” she asked, a touch of concern in her voice.

Ling Qi smiled wanly, stopping at the top of the path. “My ‘treatment’ just unsettled my qi. I should be fine in a day or two. Sorry I haven’t been in contact. I spent yesterday taking care of some things.”

“You’re lucky you’re as sturdy as you are,” Bao Qingling said, her animated expression fading back into her usual disgruntlement now that the two had been interrupted. She folded her arms under her chest, going eerily still. “And that the Sect broke out the good medicines.”

Ling Qi glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. Why was she even commenting? “Oh? I’m glad that they did, but…”

“Bao Qingling has been quite busy with medical duties in the wake of events,” Meizhen cut in smoothly. “She was the one who informed me of your status.”

“It was a mess,” Bao Qingling said sourly. “It might have saved you, but your body reacted to the sun qi about as well as it did to the poison. I had to do a lot of cutting.”

Ling Qi couldn’t help but pull a face, imagining the pallid girl looming over her with a surgeon’s knife. Unconsciously, she reached up to rub her bandaged shoulder. “I’m glad it went well.”

The other girl cocked her head to the side, and Ling Qi noticed, not for the first time, the way the girl didn’t seem to fully look anywhere with her eyes. Bao Qingling wasn’t blind, but it was clear that she relied far more heavily on other senses than most. Despite not turning her head, she seemed to notice Meizhen’s slightly sour expression. “I destroyed the tissue once the toxin traces had been strained out of course.”

“Of course. How did it compare to the other toxins collected?” Meizhen asked, changing the subject.

“Manufactured for certain,” Bao Qingling said. “Similar enough compositional traces that I suspect a master alchemist somewhere in the enemy’s supply chain.”

“You think someone in the Empire is supplying them?” Ling Qi asked with alarm.

“No,” Bao Qingling replied bluntly.

“An unpopular opinion, to ascribe such sophistication to mere barbarians,” Meizhen mused.

“And I already told you where they can stuff their popular opinions. I’m not going to underestimate my enemies.” Bao Qingling’s lip curled in disgust. “Regardless, I need to get back to my workshop. The antidote projects won’t finish themselves. I’ll leave you to your friend, Bai Meizhen.”

“I will be happy to assist you later, but farewell for now, Bao Qingling,” Meizhen said, briefly dipping her head.

“Thank you for your work,” Ling Qi added with a slightly deeper bow. She received a terse nod in return as the other girl strode past her, heading down the mountain path. A few moments of silence passed between them.

“I am glad you are well, Qi,” Meizhen said quietly. “Please endeavor not to get so badly injured in the future.”

“I’ll work on it, Meizhen,” Ling Qi chuckled. “I’m glad you came out unscathed as well. Were you involved in the fighting?”

“Only peripherally,” her friend replied. “My situation is complicated enough that none chose to command me. I suspect that will change in the future. I have a duty to show solidarity with our allies.”

So she would not be leaving the Sect then. That was good. Ling Qi had already heard rumors of disciples preparing to leave. Going by what Su Ling and Xiao Fen had said, it was worse in the Outer Sect. “Ah, I saw Xiao Fen. She says she will break through soon and be prepared to serve you.” It felt weird to say, but teasing the younger girl aside, she had agreed to pass the message.

“Reassuring,” Meizhen said with a faint smile. Ling Qi followed her gaze down the mountain path.

“Are you sure of what you’re doing?” Ling Qi asked.

“As sure as I can be without broaching the matter directly with her,” Bai Meizhen said. Despite the swirl of events, her friend seemed content. “Which is… soon, perhaps. War does not leave time for regrets, as they say.”

“I can’t say that I understand,” Ling Qi sighed. She wanted nothing to do with that sort of thing. “But I wish you luck all the same.”

“And I cannot fully understand your reticence,” Meizhen said sadly. “Perhaps life in the Emerald Seas has made me soft, but I find myself looking forward to a little youthful indiscretion. Life is to be lived, after all.”

“Meizhen!” Ling Qi hissed, scandalized.

Bai Meizhen let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth with her sleeve. “My apologies, Qi.”

“You’ve changed, Meizhen,” Ling Qi said after a moment. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Haven’t we all?” her friend asked airily. “Will you be free for tea this evening?”

“I was intending to spend it with Zhengui,” Ling Qi replied apologetically. “If you do not mind the setting, you’re welcome to join me. I’m sure he would appreciate a visit from Cui.”

“Then we shall be there,” Meizhen agreed. “Now, do not leave Renxiang waiting. She is having a stressful enough day, I think.”

They both made their farewells, and Ling Qi turned back to her destination. She knew she had many things to speak of with Cai Renxiang, but the first thing on her mind was what the internal response of the province had been like.

***

“Good afternoon, Lady Cai,” Ling Qi said politely, bowing her head low as the door of the other girl’s study drifted shut behind her, nudged by the wind. “I hope your day finds you well.”

“Well enough, all things considered. It pleases me that you have been released from the Medicine Hall so soon,” Cai Renxiang said, looking up from her task. For once, she was not behind her desk, but instead, she was seated in one of the other chairs set around the room. Her saber, Cifeng, lay naked across her lap. The heiress was running an oil cloth over the silvery metal, and the blade seemed to almost purr at her meticulous polishing.

“The Sect has many skilled physicians,” Ling Qi agreed. “I am told that I should be in good condition within another day or two.” She took a seat near Cai Renxiang, sinking into the soft cushioning with a sigh. Normally, it would have been rude to take a seat without invitation, but the heiress didn’t mind little indiscretions in private. As she settled into her seat though, she took a second look at her liege.

Although there were no obvious physical signs of it, there was a certain haggard air to Cai Renxiang as she sat there, quietly polishing her saber. She had no wounds nor any dark circles around her eyes, not a single split end or strand of hair out of place. Yet on some level, to Ling Qi, she felt frayed, for lack of a better word. It reminded her of that day during the tournament after Cai Renxiang had spent the night with the Duchess.

“And you, Lady Renxiang? Were you injured in battle?” It was a little bit of a gamble to use such familiar terms to talk to Cai Renxiang. She had never been given an invitation to do so, but Lin Hai’s words returned to her thoughts.

Cai Renxiang gave her a sharp look, and in her lap, Cifeng shook imperceptibly, but the girl did not chide her. “Do not allow the demeanor of Sir Lin to corrupt you, Ling Qi. Neither you nor I are so highly placed that we might afford undue indiscretion.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Ling Qi replied demurely, folding her hands in her lap. Renxiang had not told her off. “My question?”

“I required no treatment from the physicians,” Cai Renxiang replied. That was a pretty obvious dodge. Her liege really was tired. Still, she wasn’t going to push her luck and press the matter.

“I’m glad,” Ling Qi said simply. “You said in your note that you had been in contact with the capital. How did the Duchess take the news?”

“I believe my honored Mother to be somewhat vexed,” Cai Renxiang answered carefully. Her white gowl rippled, the ‘eyes’ splayed across her chest flashing with inner light, and in her mind, Ling Qi felt the low beastial growl that emanated from the other girl’s gown. “News of a new enemy is not going over well among the nobility.”

Ling Qi hesitated before speaking. “Are they really new though? I have known about various things beneath the earth for some time, and the elders knew as well. Surely no one was really unaware of the caverns and the things that live in them.”

“I have no doubt that they were aware enough. I have no doubt that Mother was aware as well,” Cai Renxiang said. She gazed into the gemstone set in Cifeng’s side. Ling Qi sensed a faint pulse of sharp metallic qi, echoing through Cai Renxiang’s aura. “However, that is not the issue.”

It took Ling Qi a moment to mull over what she meant. “Ah. They can’t just treat it as a deadly wilderness anymore.”

Cai Renxiang let out a long breath and flicked her wrist, storing the oilcloth away. She studied the blade in the light of her own radiance before raising her eyes to meet Ling Qi’s. “It is not only that. Mother has unsealed a number of archives that indicate certain interests into exploiting those realms in the most recent century.”

“Wait. Then…” Ling Qi frowned, thinking of her own expedition with Li Suyin.

“I find it unlikely that the timing is unrelated, and whatever else one might say, the coordination necessary to stage this attack and make alliance with several Cloud Tribes indicates a certain sophistication among these subterrene barbarians,” Cai Renxiang said. Pale blue thread spun into existence, reforming the sheath of her saber.

It seemed that the province lords and the Argent Peak Sect might have been poking at a long buried wasp’s nest then, Ling Qi mused, and now, they had gotten stung for it. “How are the clans reacting to this? They’ll rally obviously, but that only means so much.”

“The Bao are the most affected. Their interests mostly lie in and beneath the earth, though mostly in healthier caverns. They seem to be the most discontent, but I have not been able to ascertain why beyond the obvious costs to their business.”

“I’ll look into it,” Ling Qi acknowledged. Bao Qingling’s comment about the subterrene barbarians’ sophistication struck her. Was there something more there? Bao Qian seemed the sort that might be in the know, too, so she might have an avenue there as well.

“My thanks,” Cai Renxiang said. “Of the Meng, they turn inward as always, and my sources at court indicate that they blame other clans’ delvings for this, the Bao, in particular. There has been a grudge between those clans since the days of the Hui when the Bao used the chaos to expand their borders through the Meng’s northern lands. It concerns me to see such fractures flaring up again.”

It still struck her as strange, Ling Qi thought, to imagine days when nobles of the same province were openly fighting each other and expanding at one another’s expense. They were all people of the Empire. It gave her a disquieting feeling. “And the Diao?”

“The Prime Minister will not allow any complaints,” Cai Renxiang replied dryly, and Ling Qi eyed her curiously. Was that a hint of genuine antipathy or had she just imagined things? “However, some elements grumble regardless. They would rather mount proper retaliation than abandon their delvings, and the Jia clan remains in their camp. The Luo are happy enough to build their defenses, I believe. If you could speak with Sir Luo on that matter, I would be appreciative.”

“I will do so,” Ling Qi agreed. “Will you be canceling your gatherings?”

“Barring actual military need, I will not,” Cai Renxiang said bluntly. Ling Qi had suspected she wouldn’t. Cancelling would show weakness in an unacceptable way. “Leaving all that aside however, I require your talents for a more sustained task.”

Ling Qi blinked. “I will try to fulfill it to the best of my ability,” Ling Qi said slowly.

Cai Renxiang gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I require you to make friends with Wang Chao. His clan is making aggressive rumblings, and I worry that they are beginning to drift from the Cai family’s orbit. While their connections to the Diao are well and fine, the Prime Minister will not be Matriarch forever.”

Ling Qi grimaced, recalling the boy from Cai’s parties. He had not left a good impression on her, but she would try. It felt odd to set out to ‘make friends’ with someone based on a command, but she would just have to do her best. Perhaps she could speak with him at the next gathering? “As you command, Lady Cai.”

“Very good,” the heiress breathed out, and the light that played around her shoulders brightened. “Allow me to commend the efforts you have made already,” she added. “Without your show of martial prowess, the task might be impossible. Many indiscretions may be ignored in victory. You performed above my expectations.”

“Thank you, Lady Renxiang,” Ling Qi replied with some surprise. “I will make sure to build on my victories.”

“I am certain that you will,” Cai Renxiang agreed, and Ling Qi briefly caught a faint upward quirk of her lips before her expression smoothed. “There is another matter you should be aware of. My younger sister, Cai Tienli, was born twelve days ago. She is in good health by all reports.”

Ling Qi shot the heiress a sympathetic look. Even without being able to see it on her face, she could sense the conflicted tone in the other girl’s words. She began to work out her reply, but then there was a faint burst of smoke, drawing both of their eyes.

A fluttering scrap of parchment drifted down, and Ling Qi snatched it from the air. Her eyes scanned over the hastily scribbled words. Zhengui was awake.

“Is something amiss?” Cai Renxiang cut in sharply, eyeing the paper.

“No. My spirit Zhengui has just awoken though, and…” Ling Qi said, eyeing the door. She didn’t want to be rude, but…

“Go,” Cai Renxiang dismissed, gesturing to the door. “We have covered the most important matters.”

Ling Qi shot to her feet immediately and bowed. “Thank you, my Lady.”

Threads 76-Normalcy 4

As she raised her head and began to turn away, her eyes fell on her liege again, sitting stiff in her chair. She considered the last subject they had spoken of, everything that had happened, and the frayed feeling of Renxiang’s spirit.

“We’ll be having tea later,” Ling Qi said. “Meizhen and I, that is. You should come.”

Cai Renxiang had stood as well, moving to seat herself behind her desk. The other girl barely glanced her way. “There are too many tasks that need my attention. Perhaps another time.”

A large part of Ling Qi wanted to leave it at that, to rush out the door and go straight to Zhengui’s side, but some part of her rebelled against that urge. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Excuse me?” Her blunt words caused Cai Renxiang to pause, a touch of a frown on her lips.

“I don’t know what happened, but you’re not well,” Ling Qi stated bluntly, making a point to look Renxiang directly in the eye. “It’s like the tournament all over again. I can tell that dealing with your mother hurts you. Sitting here alone won’t help.”

“I allow you many indulgences, Ling Qi, but your presumption is getting out of hand,” Cai Renxiang said coolly, seating herself behind her desk. “As it comes from concern, I will not chide you harshly, but you are overstepping yourself. Do you not have your own responsibilities? Or are you truly so unconcerned that you have time for such meddling?”

Ling Qi clenched a fist inside of her sleeve, hurt by the implication. Of course she wanted to see Zhengui right away, but she didn’t want to…

<Deliberate tactic. Clumsy. She’s usually better than this.> Her train of thought was brought up short as Sixiang’s whisper rose in her mind. She focused inward, but the muse was already fading. Sixiang… They had sounded so tired. Ling Qi could feel her own stress increasing.

She forced herself to focus on Renxiang. She had to do things one at a time. The other girl had already looked down, focusing on some letter.

“I went to the archive and read through a copy of that book you had mentioned at our last get-together,” she said. There was no response. “It had certain things to say about advisors who do not speak up and rulers who do not listen.”

Her liege stilled, and the light that played around her shoulders wavered and intensified. She looked up, and her expression was a frozen mask, cast in shadow by her own light. “Ling Qi. That is enough.”

“Lady Renxiang, I am doing exactly what you recruited me to do,” Ling Qi shot back, not letting herself be intimidated. “You are hurt. I do not know how, but… you speak of foundations and building. Do you think that you can afford to let yours be damaged?” Despite herself, Ling Qi really was beginning to worry that she was going too far. “I am telling you to stop working. Just come out this afternoon. Have tea with Meizhen and I. We can talk, or perhaps have a spar or… something.”

She forced herself to maintain eye contact, even as a glimmer of familiar and unsettling radiance bloomed in Renxiang’s dark eyes. It faded after a moment. Cai Renxiang breathed out, and all of her looming presence seemed to vanish. “I will consider your proposal. Please go.”

Ling Qi nodded and turned to leave, knowing that there was nothing else to be said. Still, as she left, she caught, in the silver eye gleaming in the lining of her gown, the sight of the other girl resting her face in her hands.

She hoped Cai Renxiang would listen.

***

Ling Qi wasted no time in covering the distance from Cai Renxiang’s home to the little rocky hill where Zhengui slept, straining her recovering meridians as she let dark qi flow through her, turning her into a flitting shadow under the belly of the clouds. Very soon, it came into view and she began to descend, and below, the rolling green and brown hills began to resolve into scrub and spindly trees. There, at the top of the hill, she saw a great smoking black ‘stone’ and a ribbon of ashy scales, Zhengui awake and standing. She almost let herself drop then and there, allowing the grip of the world to speed her descent further. Instead, the words that drifted to her on the wind brought her up short.

“... Don’t blame me, you big dummy. She wouldn’t let me help either!” Hanyi’s frustrated voice came to her.

“Gui is sorry. He knows, and Zhen does too,” Gui said. He craned his neck upward, giving his other half a dirty look.

Zhen spat a stream of liquid fire, lighting the blackened brush nearby aflame, but did not respond.

Ling Qi held herself in the sky, a shadow on the wind. Even as awkward silence fell, she stayed where she was.

“Big Sister tries to do everything on her own. Gui knows this,” her little brother said. “We try to keep up, but Big Sister is just too fast, and Zhen and Gui are too slow.”

“Gui can speak for himself,” Zhen hissed irritably, staring off to the side. “Zhen is only too slow because he is attached to fat and unwieldy Gui.”

Hanyi, she saw, sat on a rock in front of him, her knees drawn up to her chest. “I thought I was doing good,” she admitted. “I helped Sis fight the bad guys. We sang together and I even ate a few of them. But then… How is she supposed to keep her promise to Mama if she does dumb stuff like that?”

That stung. Even if she knew that it was the best choice for ending the fight quickly…

Her mother’s pained and frustrated expression flashed through her mind. She had dismissed her mother’s words confidently back in the hearth room.

“Hanyi is pathetic when she is gloomy. Big Sister would not die,” Zhen hissed. Ling Qi wished he had said that with more confidence.

“We wouldn’t leave Hanyi alone,” Gui rumbled, settling to the ground with a hill shaking thump.

“Tch. Like I want to be reassured by a big doofus like you. You’d just sleep all the time anyway. And it’s not like I’m the only one sulking either, you oversized boot,” she shot at Zhen.

“I, Zhen, am not sulking. I am brooding. Zhen does not expect the uncultured Hanyi to know the difference,” Zhen replied haughtily.

“You’ve been spending too much time around that snotty snake,” Hanyi snorted, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I dunno what to do.”

“Neither does Gui,” the tortoise said, resting his head on the ground.

“Neither does Zhen,” the serpent admitted, his head drooping.

Above, Ling Qi continued to hover. Part of her was unsurprised. This was something she had known was a problem in the back of her mind, but having it laid out before her so plainly put it to the forefront. As much as it shamed her to admit it, she could dismiss such concern from her mother because the older woman spoke from ignorance. She had not been there in the heat of battle.

She could, she knew, formulate a similar rationalization regarding her spirits. Even now, she still did not feel like her choice was wrong. Even knowing the potency of the poison, even if Gu Yanmei had not shown up, surely, Zhengui could have…

Ling Qi descended from the sky like a falling stone, the weight of her body reasserting itself. She loosened her hold on her qi, making her presence obvious. Hanyi looked up, and Zhen’s head whipped around as she landed on the earth, kicking up a plume of dust. A moment later, she had her arms wrapped around Gui’s blunt snout. “Zhengui, I’m so glad that you’re awake.”

She would not address their words directly. It had been wrong of her to listen in on them.

Gui squirmed in her grasp, sending a tremor through the hill. “Ah, Gui is happy too?” he replied in surprise and confusion. His voice emanating from his jaws was muffled by her gown.

“Big Sister is healthy, I see,” Zhen added, staring down at her.

“I told you,” Hanyi said haughtily, shifting her posture to let her legs dangle off the rock. She was deliberately trying to look more casual.

“The Sect physicians do good work,” Ling Qi said with a smile, letting go of Zhengui. “I-”

“Big Sister did not just arrive,” Zhen said, cutting her off. “I, Zhen, thought it was just my imagination, but I felt her before that.”

Ling Qi’s smile faded, even as Gui craned his neck to give Zhen a harsh look. “Nosy Zhen should not accuse Big Sister of things,” he chided.

... She was being foolish, wasn’t she? “What gave me away?” Ling Qi asked.

“Big Sister’s aura is always embracing Zhengui when she is around. Even when she hides, even stupid Gui can feel her, if he pays attention,” Zhen replied.

“If snotty Zhen does not lighten up, Gui is going to roll over in his sleep one night,” Gui warned.

Her domain. Zhen must be referring to the effects of her domain. She knew that the effects of her Way were not as obvious as some. She had gotten used to it being all but unnoticeable so she had never considered trying to hide it. Could she hide it?

“I’m sorry, but I did listen in for a bit,” Ling Qi admitted. “I know it must have hurt, having to stay out of the fight like that, but I really did need you to hold the line, Zhengui. If the enemies had gotten past you…”

“Zhengui knows.” She blinked, surprised as both of them spoke in perfect synch.

“But Sis didn’t have to let the rat thing hit her at all,” Hanyi accused. “I’ve played around with Sis enough to know that she is faster than that.”

“It was the only way to ensure it wasn’t going to get away and strike from the shadows again,” Ling Qi argued. “You know how hard it is to find me once you lose track.”

“I, Zhen, still think that Big Sister was foolish. The Burning Girl was strong too. Big Sister should trust more,” Zhen said stubbornly.

“Gui agrees,” his other half said. “Big Sister does not have to do everything hard or dangerous herself.”

Ling Qi looked from one face to the next. She thought she had made the right choice, but choices had consequences. “I will not apologize for protecting you all. I’m sorry for getting hurt so badly doing it.”

“Gui does not want her to apologize. Just… Will Big Sis promise to fight together next time? Promise not to try and do the hardest part by herself?” Gui pleaded.

Ling Qi felt a tingling in her senses. Zhengui’s qi was in turmoil, hot and vital energy bubbling, straining against some unseen barrier. It was faint, the very nascent beginnings of something.

It hurt.

It hurt to see the resignation in her little brother’s eyes and in Hanyi’s lowered head. Even Sixiang’s absence felt like an accusation. It hurt to see that he expected her to refuse. It hurt because so much of her wanted to, that so much of her saw this promise as a shackle and a weight.

There were a thousand arguments she could make for why promising something like that was a bad idea. That it would limit her ability, stifle her growth, hinder her cultivation. Hadn’t she decided that she would undergo any hardship to continue her path because she would find worth at the end?

Ling Qi wrapped her arms around herself. She had to keep moving forward. She couldn’t afford to slow down or…

... Or what?

What was she striving for?

Answers came. Memories of helplessness in the face of a hunt, of a city-devouring storm, a hungry red jungle, and a shattering mountain. Most clearly, she remembered a gleaming city and radiant eyes, above everything and everyone, terrifying and enticing all at once. Beautiful. Tranquil. Untouchable. Invincible. She wanted that so badly it ached. She wanted to never fear again, for herself or anyone else.

Was that really it? The sum total of her goals? Made so stark, it seemed so… childish.

She remembered Renxiang with her face in her hands and her mother’s defeated expression. She remembered Xiulan’s face at her injury, twisted in helpless rage. She never, never wanted to make such an expression herself, and yet looking at Zhengui, the spirit she had raised from birth, was she going to inflict it on him?

His head was already lowering, his qi simmering sullenly. “Gui is sorry, Big Sister. He shouldn’t…”

“I promise,” Ling Qi said, her voice raspy to her own ears. “I can’t say we’ll always be side by side, but I promise I won’t leave you behind.”

His head whipped up, and he stared at her in surprise. “Big Sister?”

Ling Qi grimaced, a shiver going up her spine. A pain had just bloomed in her abdomen. It felt like a broken rib, a jagged fracture where the two broken ends scraped against one another. She straightened up, meeting her little brother’s eyes again.

“But Zhengui, Hanyi, you have to understand: I can’t slow down. Not when I’m still so weak.” She spoke with absolute conviction, and that conviction felt like a balm. She breathed in and out, and the sharpness of the pain faded, becoming an ache in the back of her mind.

“I, Zhen, will not drag Sister down, and he will not let Gui do so either!” Zhen promised haughtily, overriding Gui’s stumbling response.

“Hanyi will work hard, as long as Big Sis doesn’t go away,” Hanyi mumbled, looking less certain. “I’m sorry for being lazy.”

“You’re not …” Ling Qi grimaced again. How far had Hanyi progressed since she joined her? How far had she pushed herself? “I believe in you, too, Hanyi. I just haven’t been a very good teacher.” She was still so far from ideal herself. How could she match up to Zeqing as a mentor? But if she couldn’t leave them behind, she would just have to work twice as hard to help them keep up. She felt her resolve harden. “We’ll all work hard together. That’s what a family is supposed to do, isn’t it?”

Wasn’t it? She didn’t really know.

“Yes,” Gui agreed eagerly, stomping forward to bump his head against her, joyful light returning to his bright green eyes. “Yes! Gui will work very hard and be the most dependable little brother!”

Ling Qi smiled as she felt his qi unsnarl, rippling out over her and Hanyi both. She patted him affectionately atop his scaly head. Even Hanyi gave her a hesitant smile. Still, there was someone missing.

<Sixiang,> Ling Qi thought, reaching out in her mind for the bundle of emotion and sensation that represented the muse in her thoughts. <Can we talk at all?>

<Not bad work with the kiddos.> She was happy when the muse replied after only a few moments. <I’m not sure I can keep doing this, Ling Qi.> The words that followed were like ice water down her back.

<What’s that supposed to mean?> Ling Qi thought in alarm.

<I like you a lot, Ling Qi, but I’m not sure I want to see much more of this world anymore.> Sixiang chuckled haggardly. They felt exhausted and drowsy. <We can… You wanted to cultivate the Songseeker’s Ceremony soon, right? We’ll talk then, okay? I don’t have much energy right now.>

“Sister, is something wrong? Does your wound still hurt?” Ling Qi was startled out of her thoughts by Zhen, who had dipped his head low to peer into her face.

Ling Qi put on a smile. “No, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about what we still have to do.”

Zhen peered at her suspiciously, but Gui craned his neck. “Don’t pester Big Sister, nosy Zhen!’

“It’s fine, Gui,” Ling Qi said gently. “We’re just going to be very busy. So let’s enjoy today. We’ll have to start working hard tomorrow. Hanyi, would you like to compose with me? The boys here can be our audience.”

“Ah, that sounds fun,” Hanyi brightened up. “Though I don’t think this dummy could tell a sour note from a clear one.”

“I, Zhen, do not have to stand for these insults,” the serpent hissed. “We have listened to Big Sister since we were small. Of course we understand music!”

“Yeah!” Gui agreed. “Gui notices Hanyi missing notes all the time!”

“I don’t miss notes, you jerk,” Hanyi snapped, climbing to her feet. Her pale cheeks darkened to blush as she flushed with embarrassment. “You take that back!”

Ling Qi sighed as her spirits bickered. Her dantian still ached and she still worried for Sixiang, but… she had chosen the right thing. She was sure of it.

Chapter 77-Normalcy 5

To any who might have seen them, Ling Qi was sure they would have seemed like a relaxed and lackadaisical sight. Zhengui’s hill lay shrouded in fog and mist, swirling around the rising columns of air warmed by the heated earth and Zhengui’s breath. She sat atop Zhengui’s shell, nestled in a seat made of soft green wood and new grown leaves. Her eyes were half shut as she played a slow and tranquil song on her flute. Hanyi was content to sit on the edge of Zhengui’s shell, kicking her bare feet as she raised her voice in wordless song. Beneath her, her seating rumbled with Gui’s hum, and above her, Zhen swayed, flickering blue sparks raining down gently over her with each flick of his tongue.

Yet Ling Qi’s thoughts were in turmoil. She hid it well, not wanting to ruin this brief respite, but she thought Zhen might have noticed. He had been full of questions while they were still composing. She did not know how to feel. She had discovered a flaw in her cultivation, a conflict of insights between her need to continually advance and her understanding that her desires alone could not make a family. Sixiang was exhausted and considering leaving her. The Sect was at war. How could things become so chaotic so quickly?

She knew ,of course, that the path forward would be rocky and in fact, required her to face and resolve conflicts in her Way to advance, but it seemed that months passing by with steady progress had left her unprepared for the next rough patch in the road. Even now, as she played, she thought furiously about what she could do to help her spirits grow while maintaining her own pace. Her mind spun arguments for Sixiang to stay, reached for promises she could make, things she could do. All of it swirled round and round in her thoughts, turning into a hopeless snarl.

So, as morning turned into afternoon, Ling Qi was not unhappy to feel the approach of a distraction. She kept her peace as they approached, not giving away that she had felt them coming.

“What a sight they make, Sister Meizhen, fogging up the entire hill.” Ling Qi cracked an eye open only when she heard a haughty, imperious voice.

Above her, Zhen jerked in surprise, shaken out of his music-induced lull, and Gui’s whole body shifted. Hanyi’s song was cut off as she let out a yelp, the stable seating beneath her rocking violently as Zhengui shot to his feet.

“Quite a sight indeed,” Meizhen mused, meeting her eyes from the bottom of the hill despite the mist in the way. At her feet, Cui coiled, jade green scales gleaming like polished metal under the afternoon sun. “It reminds me of the mangrove mists on a fall morning.”

“Sister Meizhen is too kind,” Cui replied, giving the impression of turning up her nose.

Ling Qi grinned, hiding her expression behind her sleeve as Zhengui trundled with all the speed he could muster down the hill, the ground shaking as he emerged from the fog. Some things, at least, had not changed. Zhengui had always been eager to see and show off for Cui.

“Lady Cui! Big Sister said that the Bai Meizhen would be coming but not you.” Zhen sounded almost giddy. Hanyi shot him a dirty look as she regained her balance on the side of his shell.

At her friend’s side, the serpent raised her head. She had grown quite a bit. Even in her shrunken form, her head rose to Meizhen’s shoulder when raised from her coils. “I, Cui, was merely curious. My Sister said that something had managed to bruise even your thick skull and you were only just waking.”

“Yes! Well, not Gui’s head exactly, but there was a very big corpse bug. It tasted very bad,” Gui rumbled cheerfully. Ling Qi leaped from his back, drifting down on a breeze to land at the base of the hill.

Zhen harrumphed. “It was I, Zhen, whose fangs and venom slew the beast.” He paused then. “Together with Linhuo.”

“Is that so,” Cui replied, unimpressed. Uncoiling from around Meizhen’s feet, she slithered past Ling Qi, shooting a cool look at her but making no objection as Ling Qi approached Meizhen.

“I’m glad you received my message,” Ling Qi said as their spirits spoke. She had been vaguely aware that Cui still spent time around Zhengui, but it had always happened out of her sight. Cui was still not terribly fond of her. If she was ever unsure about the Bai family’s capacity for holding grudges, she would have been disabused of the notion by now.

Meizhen dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Yes, having a specific time rather than ‘this afternoon’ was certainly helpful,” her friend said dryly.

“Well, I was hardly sure,” Ling Qi huffed. “Ah, I invited Lady Cai as well.”

Meizhen raised an eyebrow. “I am surprised. I doubt she will come however. Cai Renxiang is not one to change plans midday easily.”

Ling Qi shuffled her feet uncomfortably, glancing to her side. Over at the hill, Cui had swelled in size. At nearly fifteen meters long, the serpent flexed her coils with the air of one cramped from a large carriage ride. “I may have been somewhat forceful in my invitation,” she hedged, not meeting Meizhen’s eyes.

She could feel Meizhen’s gaze drilling into her. “... Ling Qi, what did you do.”

“You had met her just before,” Ling Qi replied, dodging the question. “She needed to get out of that office and her own thoughts.”

Meizhen stared her down, looking deeply unimpressed. “You are not raising my confidence with your avoidance, Ling Qi.”

“I may have implied that she was failing to live up to her ideals by refusing help,” Ling Qi mumbled. “I’m right though,” she added stubbornly. Somehow, that only made the ache in her dantian twinge more.

Ling Qi was treated to the sight of the eternally elegant Bai Meizhen closing her eyes and reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Ling Qi, you cannot just speak to your superior that way,” she said in exasperation.

“It was all in private. I’m not a fool,” Ling Qi protested defensively.

“Even so!” Meizhen declared in a huff. “Honestly, you are lucky that Cai Renxiang is so permissive with her direct subordinates. You take the lessons of Argent Mirror much too far.”

They both twitched then as they felt a presence on the edge of their senses. Even dimmed, there was no missing the heiress of Cai. A moment later, she arrived in a gust of wind, the hems of her gown fluttering as she descended from the sky on wings of light.

“My apologies for interrupting your conversation,” Cai Renxiang said evenly as her wings scattered into fading motes. “However, this was the appointed time for arrival.”

Ling Qi was deeply glad that her conversation partner had been Meizhen and so their words had not been overheard. Without Sixiang, she was unfortunately vulnerable in that fashion. “Thank you for accepting my invitation, Lady Cai,” she said, bowing a touch more deeply than necessary.

Meizhen shot her a very brief look before inclining her head slightly as well. “I, too, am pleased to see you, Cai Renxiang. It is good to allow oneself a few moments of recreation in trying times.”

The other girl’s eyes swept over them both. “So I am told.”

Well, she had showed up, and she didn’t look angry, although Ling Qi doubted she would know if the girl was angry without Sixiang’s help. “It has slipped my mind, but have I actually introduced you to my spirits?”

“Not directly,” Cai Renxiang answered bluntly. Ling Qi saw the other girl toying with the hilt of her sheathed saber as she spoke. A new tic of some kind? “But I am aware of them all.”

“Of course,” Ling Qi replied. Cai Renxiang funded the upkeep for her more physical spirits, Zhengui in particular. “Zhengui, Hanyi, introduce yourselves please.”

Their own conversation interrupted, her spirits looked up. Surprisingly, it was Hanyi who hopped down first, vanishing and reappearing mid curtsy, a wide smile on her face. Ling Qi was immediately suspicious. She really hoped that Hanyi wasn’t in the mood for pranks.

“Hello! My name is Hanyi,” the young ice spirit chirped, bowing her head low. “Ling Qi mentioned you a lot. Is it true that she got all of her pretty things from you?”

So that was her angle. Ling Qi did her best not to let her eyebrow twitch.

Cai Renxiang’s expression was blank. “That is not entirely inaccurate,” the heiress said a touch dryly. Ling Qi hoped that it was a good sign.

“Ah, Lady Cai must be very generous,” Hanyi said with a grin. “I wish I could have those kinds of things too.”

“I will mark down a stipend for equipment expenses,” Cai Renxiang said. She turned her head toward Ling Qi.

“I will be happy to advise on the matter,” Bai Meizhen cut in smoothly.

Ling Qi met Cai Renxiang’s gaze and found it implacable. She glanced to Meizhen and Cui, seeing no pity, and in Hanyi, there was only avarice. Even Zhengui only looked on with innocent curiosity. She was alone and outmaneuvered. “Of course. Thank you for your generosity, Lady Cai.”

“Hello, I am Gui!” her little brother thankfully butted in then.

“I, Zhen, greet the mighty Lady Cai,” his other half greeted with considerably more dignity.

“I, Cui, greet the Lady Cai as well,” Cui called lazily from somewhere behind them.

“It pleases me to make your acquaintance. Reports of your activities were praiseworthy,” Cai Renxiang replied evenly. “Good Zhengui, please continue to support Ling Qi’s efforts in the future.”

Her little brother practically swelled with pride, twin cries of agreement ringing out. A few more pleasantries were exchanged, but soon, Zhengui trundled off to speak with Cui again, followed by a huffy Hanyi, and the three of them turned to the business of tea. It was unfortunate that in preparing for this outing this morning, Ling Qi had not thought that she would be inviting her liege. As such, she had only a tea set and a blanket. Changing her loadout had slipped her mind entirely.

As she was about to articulate this though, Cai Renxiang gestured, and a well appointed table and four chairs carved from dark lacquered wood appeared on the open space at the base of the hill. The furniture tilted and shifted on the even ground for a moment, but then Ling Qi felt a pulse of earthen qi and the land imperceptibly flattened, evening out under the grass.

“Maintaining the ability to set out a field office at a moment’s notice is important. You have the tea, I trust, Ling Qi?” Cai Renxiang asked without looking at her.

Of course Cai Renxiang would keep an office suite in her storage ring. How silly of her to think otherwise. “Yes. Please take your seats. You are my guests, even if this isn’t my home.”

The two of them took their seats across from each other as Ling Qi busied herself with the minutiae of setting the table and putting the tea to brew.

“Your third spirit, are they well?” Cai Renxiang inquired. She sat straight backed in her chair, hands folded in her lap.

Ling Qi paused in the midst of brewing. “Recent events have been somewhat difficult for them. Sixiang is resting at the moment,” Ling Qi said. “I hope you do not take offense at their lack of greeting.”

“Is it a matter of spiritual damage?” Bai Meizhen asked with some concern. “I have some supply of appropriate tinctures.”

Ling Qi glanced down at the inky shadow swirling at Meizhen’s feet. “No, it is nothing like that,” she clarified, her gaze dropping to the tabletop. “Sixiang is not a spirit of war. I am worried for them.” Had she not invited Cai Renxiang out so that they could speak of her problems? She did not want to drag someone else’s problems out.

“I see,” Meizhen said in understanding. “Spirits of the moon can adjust themselves to many things. I am certain matters will be resolved satisfactorily.”

Ling Qi wasn’t entirely sure she liked the idea of a Sixiang adjusted to violence. For all that she had, if not embraced it, at least accepted it, having Sixiang as a counterpoint felt important somehow.

“I cannot comment on the matter. I doubt any advice I could give would be accepted by Sixiang,” Cai Renxiang said.

Ling Qi gave her a sidelong look as she set the tea to boil and sat down. She had not really thought of the fact that her liege could probably sense the moon spirit’s dislike. “Perhaps. We will have to work it out, one way or the other.”

“Alliances are not always easy,” Cai Renxiang agreed. “Bai Meizhen, might I ask, how are the Bai reacting to news of these new barbarians?”

“My grandfather is not truly concerned,” Meizhen replied. “The lands of Thousand Lakes are ill suited to caves. However, surveying groups are reviewing their knowledge. Should any such holes be found, we will drown them in the endless waters of Lake Hei.”

“Will the Bai be sending any assistance to Emerald Seas?” Ling Qi asked.

Bai Meizhen’s gaze flicked over to Cai Renxiang. “Should the Duchess request it.”

Ling Qi dipped her head in understanding, reading between the lines. Emerald Seas could not afford to go begging an ally for help over what was still a minor incursion. “I’m sure we will handle it ourselves. It is good to know your help is available though,” Ling Qi said.

However, she did not want the conversation to drift back into politics.She shot Bai Meizhen a brief pleading look.

“Of course,” Bai Meizhen replied. Steam began to rise from the teapot as the script-etched burner swiftly heated the water, and Ling Qi began to brew the tea. She kept her eyes down on her work. “Cai Renxiang, I believe you mentioned that your sister was born without troubles. How is she?”

This time, there was no outward reaction from the heiress. “Cai Tienli is in good health. I have not seen my sister as of yet, but I have heard that she takes more after our father in mien. There were no complications following Mother’s delivery. Head Physician Liao has given her a clean bill of health, and Medicine Saint Tong agrees.”

Ling Qi knew Cai Renxiang’s father was a member of the Diao clan, just like the Prime Minister, so she could only picture a baby with slightly darker skin and wisps of rose pink hair. It was funn that despite her studying, she still didn’t know the name of Cai Renxiang’s father. It would be rude to ask though.

“Medicine Saint?” she asked instead, curious at the term.

“It is a somewhat archaic term for those who reach the sixth realm on a way of medicine or alchemy,” Bai Meizhen explained. “There has been some push to use the term only for the masters of the Celestial Distillation Sect in Celestial Peaks.” Meizhen sounded pretty disdainful of the idea.

“Politics aside, Saint Tong is considered the foremost expert on the care of children in the Empire,” Cai Renxiang said. “It was somewhat unexpected that Mother requested his presence.”

“Among those of the highest cultivation, birth is always somewhat fraught for the child,” Meizhen said carefully. “The moment the soul cord is severed, they become their own beings.”

“Indeed. However, it remains strange,” Cai Renxiang said, watching the curls of steam rising from the brewing tea. “Head Physician Liao was sufficient for me.”

A brief and uncomfortable silence passed over the table. Ling Qi cracked an awkward smile. “Well, the Duchess knows more than any of us, particularly about herself. Perhaps she sensed some irregularity?”

“Perhaps,” Cai Renxiang allowed.

“Whatever the matter is, it is surely resolved given the expertise at hand,” Meizhen said as Ling Qi began to pour the tea. “Speaking of irregularities, however…” Bai Meizhen gave Ling Qi a hard look. “Did you somehow manage to strain yourself between the morning and now, Ling Qi? Surely the physicians informed you to avoid overexerting yourself.”

Ling Qi shot her friend a frown. She felt Cai Renxiang look her way with a faint frown, studying her. “I’ve run into a little problem,” Ling Qi admitted, filling the cups. “A matter came up, and I found myself unable to fully resolve it. I think I have found a flaw in my cultivation base.”

Despite herself, Ling Qi’s eyes drifted to Zhengui where he, Hanyi and Cui were having their own little ‘tea party.’ Their party somehow involved the corpse of a huge mountain beast she didn’t immediately recognize. Where had that even come from?

“Ah,” Meizhen acknowledged. “Do not be too disheartened. Most everyone encounters a heart demon or two on their way.”

“Heart Demon?” Ling Qi asked, unable to suppress a snigger. What an overwrought term.

Faint color dusted her friend’s cheeks at the sound of her laughter. “It is the proper term. Honestly, the term has been used for millennia. You are so uncultured at times, Ling Qi.”

“I’m sorry,” Ling Qi chuckled. Laughing felt good. “I’m not sure I’d call it a demon, but yeah, there's… I don’t know if I’d call it a contradiction, but it is a conflict at least.”

She carefully passed out the tea in the silence that followed.

“I was being serious,” Meizhen added as she received her cup. “I resolved such a conflict myself not too long ago. You will be able to find your resolve and the Way forward, I am sure.”

Ling Qi looked to her friend in surprise, but thinking about it, Meizhen had changed in recent months. Grown more confident, more daring, and friendlier, at least to a select few.

“How about you, Lady Cai?” she asked, placing a cup in front of her liege. “Any advice on maintaining a perfect path?”

Cai Renxiang gathered the cup in her hands but did not answer immediately. “I completed the cultivation of one of my mother's arts just yesterday. I found no insight in it.”

Ling Qi stared at the girl. Oh. That would certainly explain things.

Threads 78-Normalcy 6

Ling Qi’s thoughts whirled, and she began to open her mouth to respond. She felt a sharp pain then, like someone grinding their heel into the top of her foot. She shot Meizhen a sharp look, but the girl merely sipped her tea serenely, eyes down. Ling Qi held back a grimace and sipped from her cup as well. It gave her a moment to organize her thoughts.

“You were always going to diverge at least a little from your mother’s path. We’ve spoken of that, haven’t we?” Ling Qi ventured.

“A divergent insight is different from nothing at all,” Cai Renxiang noted. She took a sip herself, and Ling Qi noticed her wrinkle her nose in disatisfaction. Hopefully, it was just the tea.

“That is true enough,” Meizhen agreed, glancing up. “However, I believe it is not as problematic as you think. I cultivated several of my family’s earth arts before I found one which truly suited me. In the longer term, it is important for the health of a clan for its members to follow a reasonably wide array of Ways. The Cai are young yet.”

Cai Renxiang let out a sound of consideration but still seemed dissatisfied. That unreasonable, illogical response… It actually made Ling Qi feel better somehow.

“And I don’t think it’s really so bad,” Ling Qi added, drawing a sharp look from her liege. “The Duchess Cai is incomparable, of course, but… I did give my oath to follow you. We had a big, dramatic heart-to-heart and everything, if you remember,” she said cheekily.

“Still too shameless, Ling Qi,” Meizhen grumbled. She looked back to Cai Renxiang, her expression softening. “Cai Renxiang, our situations do not compare. However, I attempted to step into the role of my aunt and even… even my mother. This failed. It is only in stepping out of their shadows that I have begun to grow properly again.”

“I’ve been feeling my Way along more by luck than education,” Ling Qi offered gingerly, feeling the ache still resonating in her core. “But I can’t help but feel like Meizhen’s right. One person alone can’t build a clan, no matter how powerful and talented they are.” Ling Qi shifted in her seat with a frown as she felt a knot of tension that she hadn’t noticed fade away.

“The Grandmother Serpent and the Fisher founded the Bai clan, but it was the Eight Daughters who created its foundation,” Bai Meizhen agreed.

Cai Renxiang looked at them both and closed her eyes. The fabric of her gown roiled in discontent, but a sharp flare of her qi put it to rest. “It is true that my view might yet be too narrow. My apologies. It is unlike me to be so melancholy.”

“I am informed that it is appropriate for young ladies to spend their tea time making complaints,” Meizhen said airily. “Think nothing of it.”

Cai Renxiang shook her head, swirling the contents of her cup thoughtfully. “Then allow me to make another one. I miss Gan Guangli,” she sighed, setting the cup down with a clink.

Ling Qi winced. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not as devoted in action, but—”

Her liege waved a hand in dismissal. “I mean no slight toward your service. You are reliable in your way, and I knew your nature when I made my offer. Although it may sometimes be impolitic, your brusqueness has its uses.”

Ling Qi frowned, trying to work out if she had been complimented or not.

“You miss his counsel then?” Meizhen asked to clarify, peering over the rim of her teacup.

Cai Renxiang nodded slightly, the corner of her mouth quirking down in a faint frown. “Indeed. Ling Qi is not one to hold deeper discussions on matters philosophical. You yourself do not hold much interest in the subject either.”

Ling Qi took a deeper sip from her cup. She was not going to object to that; it was entirely correct. Meizhen dipped her head in acknowledgment as well.

“It won’t be long until he’s back with us, I’m sure. Have you heard about what happened in the Outer Sect while the attack was happening?” Ling Qi asked.

Cai Renxiang raised an eyebrow. “I had heard there was fighting, but I have not had time to review matters more closely.”

Ling Qi grinned. “Do I have a story for you then.” She had pulled the events out of Su Ling at her own tea time, and if it would lighten the mood, she would be happy to share.

After all, they would all soon be hard at work.

***

In the days that followed, Ling Qi spent her time in cultivation and thought. She and Zhengui both required rest, and he needed time to stabilize his sudden breakthrough. While she rested, Ling Qi focused on cultivating the most restful art that she had.

Argent Genesis, the Sect’s cultivation art, was harmonious and serene in its exercises. Over the next week, while her meridians recovered from their scorching, she mastered the remaining exercises of the art. The argent qi that had settled in her dantian grew more robust and flexible, and with every breath she spent cultivating, she felt a little less qi lost to inefficiency and a little more qi flowing into her burgeoning domain. It would never be her primary cultivation art, but she did not regret mastering it. Through settling and congealing argent qi throughout her channels and dantian, she had increased her cultivation efficiency and strengthened and refined the bond with her spirits.

Recovered from her wounds, save for a small white scar across her collarbone, Ling Qi turned her attention to her base cultivation. Here, she spent time with Hanyi. The young ice spirit was glad to return to the high peaks and snow, and Ling Qi refined her physical cultivation by chasing and seeking Hanyi through the snowy shadows and high cliffs without the use of arts, a reminder of the time they had first met.

Ling Qi spent less time cultivating her spiritual cultivation, or rather, just cultivating her spirit. When she played music with her mother in the garden as the sun set, she cultivated. When she sat with Zhengui on his hill and meditated together with her little brother, she cultivated. When she slipped through the shadows to find Hanyi in whatever crevice she had snuck through, she cultivated.

It was only deep in the night when the moon was high in the sky that she perched on a high cliff and consolidated that cultivation, steadily expanding her dantian. Soon, she reached the foundation stage of bronze, qi solidifying in her bones and muscles to strengthen them further for the rigors of greater cultivation.

It struck her again how great the gulf between realms was. Even without arts, her flesh was stronger than steel or stone. She could crumble rock by merely clenching her fist and with some effort, even warp or break mundane steel. She could bound across impassable cliffs as light as a feather and learn at a ferocious rate. The Sect had bumped up their training plans for Inner disciples, and even now, she was learning the most common dialect of the Cloud tribes. It had been less than a week, and already she could understand what her teachers said, more often than not.

Yet in her mind’s eye, she saw a mountain break, and a perfect city clashing with an endless lake of black. She was still so very small, and she had so many people to think of besides herself now. Her own words to Cai Renxiang echoed back to her. She couldn’t be satisfied just strengthening herself.

And so as one week turned to the next, Ling Qi had a quiet word with her family and friends. Xiulan was still curiously absent, squirreled away with her sister on some training ground, but she managed to notify everyone else. With everyone reassured, Ling Qi flitted away in the depth of the night, off to the silent stones that stood in the mountain vale, both gravemarkers for a people long dead and anchor for a nightmare. It was also the site of an important lesson and a place where the veil between the material and spirit realm were thin. The chaotic energies of the moon were strong here, soaked into the very stones.

Ling Qi found her favorite stone and sat down to cultivate the Songseeker’s Ceremony.

She just hoped she could talk Sixiang around.

***

Ling Qi took a seat on a pale grey shore. She breathed in the scent of the colour sea, and it was no one thing. It was the scent of early morning mist in spring, the acrid scent of a painter’s tools, ink and incense, and fresh churned forest loam trod on by a hundred dancing feet. Beside her sat a tall, thin figure, forlorn in expression, their waving rainbow hued hair lying flat and lank against their scalp.

“Sixiang,” Ling Qi greeted, smoothing her gown. It was strange. Her focus was here, but she could still feel her body and the energies churning in her meridians as she took in the shifting tides of the moon and made them hers.

“Ling Qi,” her muse greeted, not looking over at her. The spirit’s voice was hoarse, and their knees were drawn up to their chest. “Didn’t take you as long as I’d thought.”

Ling Qi laughed. “I’m pretty tough. It takes a lot to keep me down.”

“I know,” Sixiang said. They fell silent then.

Ling Qi let the silence stretch. Words danced through her mind. She wanted to plead, to cajole, to deny. She did not want Sixiang to go. She thought to appeal to their connection, to the sadness she and her other spirits would feel, but the words died on her lips. That wasn’t really fair. It did not address Sixiang’s trouble at all. Yet she couldn’t not say it at all.

“We would miss you a lot,” she said quietly. “I promised them, you know? I’ll work hard with you, too.”

“You’ll work yourself to death twice over before you take a break,” Sixiang answered with a weak chuckle. “What if I don’t want that?”

Ling Qi grimaced, the ache in her dantian sharpening, sending a spike of pain up her spine. “I can’t stop, Sixiang. I won’t stop. The world is still so big, and I’m still so very small,” she pleaded.

“It will never stop. The bigger you get, the more of the world you’ll see. It will never get any smaller,” Sixiang replied.

“Even so,” Ling Qi said, unwavering. “I would like it if you stayed by my side. Even if things are hard now, can you really say there is nothing more you want to see of the waking world?”

Sixiang smiled wanly. “Before I spent all of this time with you, none of this would have bothered me. What is the end of a few dreams? A song of war is as good as a song of peace, if the singer is skilled.”

“Sixiang…” Ling Qi said, trailing off.

Sixiang blew an errant strand of lank hair out of their eyes and finally turned their head to look at Ling Qi. “Will you take a stroll with me, Ling Qi? I think I’ve spent too much time awake. You don’t sleep near enough.”

Ling Qi looked down at the muse’s extended hand. She glanced out to the rippling sea as it drew back from the shore and took their hand in her own. “Of course. I’ll find the time if I need to.”

Sixiang smiled as they grasped her hand, a flicker of humor entering their eyes again. “I’m glad.”

And then the wave crashed down upon the shore, and they were both no more.

***

Ling Qi felt her limbs spin back into existence and found herself on a flat and polished wooden floor. All around her, dancers spun and whirled in the flickering shadow of bobbing ghost lights. Merriment and cheer filled the air. She herself now wore a gown of old and strange cut, a billowing cloud of lace and silk almost fit to drown in.

She still grasped Sixiang’s hand, who now stood across from her wearing antiquated gentleman’s robes. Their face had taken on a more masculine cast, and their other arm was around her waist. They had joined the dance midstep, and only her quick reflexes allowed her to avoid trampling on the spirit’s toes. Some part of her wanted to shove them away, but it was just Sixiang. Masculine shape or no, they were the same person.

“Good recovery,” Sixiang chuckled as they spun through the steps.

Ling Qi’s gaze flicked across the room and down at their feet, swiftly analyzing the steps. “I know I don’t don’t do it in public, but you, of all people, should know how much I’ve practiced.” Dancing was not so different from any other kind of athletics. Even the simple stretching exercises of her mother’s cultivation art had a certain dance-like quality. It was all a matter of practiced, memorized motion.

Above, or perhaps below them, Ling Qi saw the dance floor mirrored, and a second Ling Qi danced with a second Sixiang. Which was the reflection, she wondered? For a moment, she felt as if she was looking through two sets of eyes, both staring at one another from the other side of the mirror.

“I suppose so,” Sixiang mused as their dance carried them around other pairs. The other dancers were mostly not human. What could be taken for masks at a glance resolved into bestial features when looked at directly, and the dancers’ features changed from one moment to the next. “You wouldn’t know just by looking though,” Sixiang said with a smile, as if laughing at some private joke.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Ling Qi said as they danced. “Is there really nothing else for you?”

Chapter 79-Muse 1

Sixiang’s expression grew somber, and despite herself, Ling Qi was aware of the handsome lines of the currently male muse’s face, not so far from her own.

“Is there really nothing else for me? That’s the wrong question, I think,” they said, and they separated for the next steps. Another set of hands clasped Ling Qi’s as she spun away, and the other dancer’s features blurred and became Sixiang’s. “There are so many things I want to see, but I have to wonder if staying where I am is the best way to see them. I’ve changed.”

“You have, but I don’t think it’s so bad. You used to be pretty feckless,” Ling Qi teased gently, not missing a beat at the ‘new’ partner.

“Mm, I’m not so sure,” Sixiang mused, moving in time to the phantom music that rang over the dancers. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, sending the curved and mirrored walls around the dance floor rippling. “I don’t regret coming to care about you, but my fear has made me less. It seems so much clearer here, immersed in a dream.”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to live, spirit or no,” Ling Qi replied, meeting Sixiang’s eyes. “I understand, though. It’s not easy seeing so much…” She trailed off, thinking of bodies lying still in the fields and faces covered in creeping frost. She shivered despite the warmth of the room.

“It’s because of my own fear that I feel their fear so acutely, you know,” Sixiang continued. “I’m a muse. I can feel what people are feeling, even when they try to throw up a mask. In combat when they aren’t even trying…”

Ling Qi was silent, lowering her eyes.

“Your world is so rigid and limited,” Sixiang said. “No one knows what happens when you humans leave it, except for those who won’t answer. How can you not be afraid when you don’t know if this is your last dream? So many little sparks, all clashing. None of them want to die, but they're driven to bring death to others anyway, riding on the currents of causality, old actions sending ripples downstream again and again…”

Sixiang’s voice started to drift off, and Ling Qi gave their hand a sharp squeeze, drawing them back from whatever dreamlike tangent they were going off on. “I don’t know about any of that,” Ling Qi said. “But even if you can understand your enemies, they’re still your enemies. People want things, and sometimes, what they want just can’t be reconciled with what you want.”

“Like I said, rigid and limited,” Sixiang chuckled sadly. “I get it, but I wonder if that’s the argument that you want to make right now.”

Ling Qi flushed slightly. “We aren’t enemies, Sixiang. We’re friends. I want you to be happy, and I want you to stay, but if one precludes the other…”

Sixiang grinned in amusement, and Ling Qi huffed at the obvious teasing as their dance carried them to the edge of the floor and through the curved and gleaming wall. The glasslike exterior rippled as they stepped through, then shattered, reducing their previous venue to a thousand falling sparks of color and light.

Now, they walked on a snowy path that wound through a dense forest. They were clad in mourner’s white, their gowns unembellished, just two in a stream of humanity that wound out of sight both ahead and behind. A soft mourning song rang through the air, punctuated by sobs from amidst the line. On the mourners' shoulders were countless biers smelling of incense and oils that only just masked the scent of death.

“It might be hard for you to understand as a human,” Sixiang mused beside her. The handles of their bier rested heavily on Ling Qi’s shoulders. The muse had shifted to a female aspect now, slighter and softer than the face they had worn a moment ago. “It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with the bad stuff. Nightmares are dreams, too, and more than one artist has poured their fear and anxiety onto the page or canvas.”

“Then why? I want to understand,” Ling Qi asked, her voice muffled. The very air of this place seemed to disallow loudness.

“It’s like…” Sixiang paused, searching for words. “Before I could think this is fear-of-death and this is pain-of-loss, but it was like describing the color of something. There wasn’t really any understanding to it.”

Ling Qi was silent, her qi thrumming in her meridians. It really struck her then, the inhumanity of her companion. As a human, she could reconcile the things Sixiang had spoken of, but Sixiang was a muse, a creature of thought and feeling; a conflict like this could discomfit or depress her, but to Sixiang, it was really more like a wasting illness.

“But you’ve spent enough time to have that context now. They aren’t just colors on the pallet anymore,” Ling Qi realized. The mourning song rang out so much more clearly now. The singers poured out the laments of the dead and the hopes of the living, and though the language they sang in was foreign, she understood.

“Heh, looks like you were paying attention to the art stuff after all,” Sixiang chuckled. “But yes Ling Qi. I understand people. I can feel what they feel. Do you understand?”

Ling Qi had difficulty imagining it. She had trouble enough with her own emotions. The thought of having the feelings of others flooding her head at all times was unpleasant. She knew intuitively that Sixiang was not just speaking of their allies, and it fed certain threads of unease that had wound through her thoughts since the day she had killed the Bai traitor and the bandits. She lowered her eyes as the dirge rose higher.

“I stand by what I said earlier. You should save your understanding for the people you care about. You have to choose what to value more and what to value less.”

“I think I get it. I really do. It’s just not so easy to get the spirit back into the bottle,” Sixiang said. “I’m afraid, Ling Qi. I don’t know how to handle that.”

Ling Qi walked in silence next to the muse, her sandaled feet churning the cold muddy road.

In the distant part of her that still sat outside atop an old and worn stone amid, Ling Qi stared down at the stick of jade in her hands, eyes glassy in her faintly dozing state. Within the jade lay the Playful Muse’s Rapport art, a remaining piece of Emerald Seas’ history. In the state she was in now, she could almost taste the strife that still clung to the art, a tinge of copper and wood smoke for the millennia of civil war, decadence, and spite.

It felt familiar, the scent of burning knowledge. Had she not spent a night in such a repository once?

Ling Qi peered at the art within the jade. She had hoped that the art, patterned off Sixiang’s siblings, could help her understand her friend better.

“Spacing out even now?” Sixiang asked with a small smile, drawing her back to the snowy mourner’s path.

“Something like that,” Ling Qi replied, ignoring the muse’s knowing look. “I think we’ve both had enough of this atmosphere, don’t you think?”

Ling Qi breathed out and released the handles of the bier she bore, flicking her wrists and sending her sleeves billowing as she shook them out. The snowy path and the mourners song shattered like so much glass and dissolved into smoke.

They fell.

“Well, someone has gotten brave,” Sixiang complained as they tumbled head over heels beside Ling Qi. They plunged like falling arrows through the open azure sky. Below, there was no ground nor clouds, just the endless sky stretching on forever, above and below. Only the faintest outline of a nearly full moon marred the blue. The wind whistled past Ling Qi’s ears and tugged at her gown, but the wind was an old friend.

Ling Qi righted herself and stilled the grasping tugs of the wind that pulled at the hems of her gown. She grinned. “Quit messing around, Sixiang.”

The muse huffed, and their haphazard tumble ceased. Their form flowed smokelike until they once again faced Ling Qi, but their form had changed again. The Sixiang that looked back at her in irritation was wholly androgynous, their features a mix of sharp and soft, their multihued hair streaming above in the wind like a colorful scarf.

“I appreciate the thought, but isn’t what you’re doing a little high-handed?” Sixiang asked crossly.

“Maybe so, but I’ll grasp at whatever straws I might need to help you,” Ling Qi replied unrepentantly. Her gown billowed around her as she fell but never to the point of impropriety. “I want to understand, Sixiang.”

“I know you do, Ling Qi,” the muse replied, smiling. “I’m glad you do, but I’m not sure that art can do it. Playful Muse’s Rapport is not about being a muse. It’s about applying some of our perspective to yourself. Honestly, I think you might have trouble cultivating it with how closed off you are.”

“Then show me,” Ling Qi pleaded, spreading her arms. “You brought me to your memories before. You can do it again, can’t you?”

Sixiang met her eyes, their eyebrows drawing together.

“I won’t ask you to change your mind. I know how stubborn you are,” Sixiang said. “But if you really want to understand, it’ll have to be a lot deeper than last time.”

“I’m pretty tough,” Ling Qi replied, putting on a cocky smile. “But you know that.”

“I do,” Sixiang laughed. Then they were in front of her, hands resting on her temples. Their smile turned melancholic. “Change places.”

Ling Qi’s vision went white.

Threads 80-Muse 2

It was different this time. Perhaps Sixiang had simply grown better at manipulating this place of dreams, or perhaps they were simply holding back less of the experience from her. In any case, Ling Qi felt her mind itch as she was immersed in wholly alien senses. She felt herself drowning in the sheer sensory input that flowed through Sixiang’s/her senses, and it was a struggle just to remember where the line between them lay.

They lay on the table in a once neat dining room, painted in the hues of determination, loneliness, awkward longing, and stinging hurt. The Human/Ling Qi lay on top of their new body, and they saw the bundle of muted, chemical-soaked emotion emanating from her even in sleep. Possessiveness, black and cloying, held everything else together and coiled around a stubborn spine of flowing water. It was all contained in a cage of awkwardness and fear that was even now reasserting itself.

They saw the other one, armored in anger, girded with loss. They drifted along as they both ran off, blazing with signals of hurt and desperate clinginess. Attraction warred with loneliness in the white one, the serpent daughter. This was only the latest hurt. Every moment spent with Sixiang’s human was a stinging wound and balm all in one.

Ling Qi clung to the other girl with the desperation reminiscent of the fading dreams of a shipwreck survivor, yet a thread of fear ran through it all, a sharp white line cutting through the clinging dark.

They needed each other. They hurt each other. It was beautiful in its contrast, but something about it niggled at them. They didn’t like it much at all.

…

They didn’t understand these humans and their world. Everything was so stiff. Fear touched everything here. No joy was unstained by it, and no determination did not keep a seed of fear at its heart. Despite that, it lent a certain something to the colors these silly, hurrying, desperate, and self-important creatures displayed. There was a brightness to them, a sharpness of tone and hue not present in Dream.

In other ways, they were frustrating and dull. Their revels seemed more like some kind of twisted game where each human constructed their very best mask and did their level best to talk past and through each other without an ounce of understanding. Like a dark nightmare revel, it was all sharp and hungry eyes and hidden fangs, ready to pounce on the weakest and tear them apart.

They felt a touch of something like guilt when they learned later that their actions and cajoling had gotten Ling Qi in trouble with that doll-thing that she answered to. They were not a nightmare in this incarnation, and few parts of them had ever been, so it was still interesting to learn these new shades of fear and regret.

Still, the idea of death seemed so odd to them. Ling Qi had tried to explain, but they just didn’t understand these humans. One dream was as good as the next. Why worry about the ending? These humans spent so much time hiding from each other instead of expressing themselves properly.

…

Stripped of their body and bond to their human, Sixiang struggled, bodiless against the cold weight of a world pressing down upon them.

[Cease.]

The other surrounded them, engulfed them.

For just a moment, Ling Qi became herself, and her head ached as it tried to process a completely alien sensation. She felt Sixiang stir in her mind, adjusting the flow of their power.

Raw meaning pounded mercilessly against their being as a fragment of a fragment of the greater entity’s attention turned on them. The command was like a thousand, thousand hooks digging into their core, restraining them. Their response was feeble but strident.

[Negation. Cease.]

Their expressed will broke upon their superior’s like a light breeze upon a fortress wall.

[Denial. Trial.]

Sixiang’s whole being shuddered with the power pressed down upon them. Trial. That word encompassed uncounted years of meaning. Their greater selves were as gate and wall to those humans who chose to throw away the gifts of the [Two] and join their number as spirits. It was a kindness to break their mad ambition before they could destroy their humanity, or failing that, to prepare them for its loss. As the Second Born of [She Who Was], that duty overrode all other concerns. The weight of it crushed Sixiang, stilling even their feeble struggle. They saw their human’s pain and fear, but the colour was sour and ugly like excrement smeared across a finely painted canvas. The growing horror and disgust for herself growing in the fragment of Ling Qi’s mind was worse.

Sixiang could only watch and scream.

[Contamination. Return?]

The fragment of the cold will that held them down seemed almost kind in the understanding that filtered through its will like soft silk wrapping a clenched iron fist.

They felt the trial fading and felt Ling Qi lapsing into oblivion.

[Negation. Aid… Mine.]

This dream was not over. It could not be.

…

They observed the gathering dully. There were scores of humans all packed into a small space, talking and laughing, enjoying music and poetry. It should have been a joy to soak in, a balm for their growing fatigue, but it was not. They were better versed in humanity now. Although the humans still waved their masks about, they could see the expression in the undercurrents now. They could see the ones taking genuine pleasure in each other’s presence, the joy some of the humans found in their verbal sparring, and the connections that formed despite their masks.

If only they could say the same for Ling Qi. Whatever arts she was cultivating now, whatever she composed, Ling Qi had no intention of connecting to the people around her even a little bit. They watched their human put on a mask of frost and disinterest, deflecting those who tried to come near. In some, they saw only anger and pricked pride. In others, they saw genuine hurt as their effort to reach out was rebuffed, and gradually, the colors around those curdled. They saw pride sharpen into sneers and hope fade into dull disinterest and raised guards.

They tried to offer hints and nudges, but too often, they were ignored. Perhaps they could have been more forceful, but with the Nightmare still heavy on both of them, they could not find the will to do it.

Fear had taken root in Sixiang. The last thing they wanted to do was make an annoyance of themselves.

…

It hurt to watch them fade. Each human was a riot of color and life, dreams and hopes, fears and desires. When they died, it all went out, gone like a snuffed candle. If there was a new dream waiting for them, Sixiang was no longer sure. It felt like a knife in their nonexistent flesh, twisting each time she saw it happen.

... Ling Qi was in fine form today. Her enemies, these bandits, did not stand a chance against her. Perhaps with more organization and better leadership, it would have been different.

They did not have that, and so they died. The pain of the poison coursing through their being was a pale thing compared to their hurt.

…

They had never liked this Cai Renxiang. She was the child spawn of the greater Cai, the one who had reduced the Court of Dreams to ash and replaced Grandmother’s shrines in the [First Tree] with new and foreign spirits.

Of all the peers their Ling Qi interacted with, only Cai Renxiang was wholly opaque to their gaze. She was a statuette of reflective glass, dancing on strings. Whatever her thoughts were, Sixiang could not say; whatever her hopes were, they laid beyond their sight.

However, in that carriage, they were thankful for her. Sixiang was too weak to speak up, but they had been conscious. Watching Ling Qi process the pain that she had felt during the battle hurt as if they were being wounded all over again.

It was good, then, that the girl was able to offer Ling Qi something, a thread to hold onto and pull herself back up. The girl offered that most precious of things for humans who cultivated: purpose.

And if, in that moment, they spied a crack in the glass and peered at the ------- beneath, they would not say a word, not because of the glower of the abomination the girl wore nor the threatening hiss of steel from the one at her side, but because it would be poor form to repay the one helping their Ling Qi by spilling secrets.

***

Ling Qi woke with a start.

She cradled her head as she sifted through the memories she had seen. It was a torrential flow of which she could only recall a few scraps, and yet when she looked up and saw Sixiang sitting upon the shore of the color sea, she understood. Slowly, she turned her head away from the construct on the shore, the thing created by Sixiang for her benefit, and addressed her friend directly.

“I’m sorry, Sixiang,” she said, bowing her head to the sea. She saw the illusion on the shore dissolve into mist out of the corner of her eye.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Sixiang said, the water rippling around her bare feet. The voice echoed strangely, emanating from the whole of the sea. “I have to ask: how do you manage, being so blind?”

“I don’t know. How do you manage, seeing so much?” Ling Qi shot back with a small smile. Even with the memories fading and the lessons of a new art internalized, Sixiang’s perspective still left her with an aching head.

Sixiang laughed, and they sat in silence for a time, the sound of Sixiang’s waters lapping on the shore and the quiet sound of the wind their only company aside from each other. They did not need words as they processed each other’s perspectives.

“Sixiang, I’ll try as hard as I can, but I can’t say whether the end of my path will be worth it for you. Things are going to be hard. I’m going to hurt others, and others are going to hurt me,” she said. “But I’d like you to share it with me. I’ll need you to stop me putting my foot in my mouth too much."

Though she ended on a weak joke, she knew Sixiang could feel her sincerity. In the end, having understood each other, there was no point in argument. She could only say the words that were in her heart all along. She didn’t want her friend to leave, but she had to accept it if it was their choice.

Her words echoed in the sea, and the waters receded, leaving her feet bare on the sand.

“How do you deal with being so afraid all the time?” Sixiang asked.

“You already know the answer to that,” Ling Qi said.

Sixiang huffed, and Ling Qi sputtered as a wave came in, soaking her front. “Smartass,” they grumbled. “But I guess I do.”

A burst of wind blew the water soaking her away, but Ling Qi refused to let Sixiang escape into comedy. She answered, “You work to make the world one where you don’t have to be afraid any more.”

“Even if there’s no end to that path?” Sixiang questioned.

“Ends are inevitable,” Ling Qi replied with conviction. “The journey to get there is what gives them value.”

Sixiang let out a sigh and chuckled. “Wow. When I’m the gloomy one, you know something has gone wrong.”

“You’re right,” Ling Qi said with a chuckle. “What do you say? Will you stay with me, Sixiang?”

“Yes, I will,” the muse said, and Ling Qi felt their qi pulse and flex experimentally. “I think I understand better now what it means to be human and not. I’m not, and I never was. You're taking your own steps away from that as well. If you don’t like the world, then change it, huh? I guess I forgot grandmother’s power in the waking world.”

“Dreams aren’t just for sleeping,” Ling Qi agreed. It seemed like a childish way to view it, but at the core of every cultivator was a dream. Slowly, she stood. “Sixiang, will you dance with me again?”

“Of course,” her friend’s voice said, and a hand rose from the waters to grasp her own. “Did you have something in mind?”

Ling Qi considered as she stepped out onto the sea, feeling the qi in her legs and lungs rippling with anticipation.

Interlude: Dance

Ling Qi really was beautiful, Sixiang mused.

Their hands materialized from the waters, and their body followed. It might have been the form grandmother had made, but it was theirs now. Straying too far from this template just didn’t feel comfortable anymore. Was this what humans referred to as self-image?

“Show me something slow? I need to think,” Ling Qi said, taking their hands.

It was funny. So many of this girl’s human friends regarded her with mild exasperation. It wasn’t unkind, but words like “oblivious” and “airheaded” came up sometimes. Yet to Sixiang, Ling Qi stood out in sharp relief, her colors vibrant in a way that few were. To someone who had known only the misty realm of dreams, Ling Qi was a great contrast. Although she could be easily distracted, her core drive was as sharp as a blade. When they looked upon her they saw a core of absolute black that greedily drank in everything it touched. It lay shrouded in mist and breeze, tinged with silver and colors beyond count. Cords of that blackness shot through the whole extending in a web that went beyond sight with one such cord bound to them.

“Not my style, but I guess I can think of something,” Sixiang’s avatar said with a lopsided grin. They didn’t betray their thoughts. They had gotten good at that. Sixiang considered a moment, holding Ling Qi’s hands. They knew a few court dances from fragments of old selves.

As Sixiang’s avatar began to lead them through the first twirling steps, sending ripples through their dreamstuff, Ling Qi asked, “What actually changed your mind, Sixiang? I know I’m not that good of a speaker.”

They were silent, their mind’s eye flickering back through their own experience. They remembered not just looking out through Ling Qi’s eyes, but truly immersing themselves in that perspective. It had hammered home the truth of their differences. Through Ling Qi’s eyes, the real meaning of fear had been hammered home. Through Ling Qi’s eyes, they had learned the truth of attachment. Through Ling Qi’s eyes, they had learned that those things were two sides of the same coin. In the waking world, one came with the other.

It had shown them how wrong they were to imagine that they had drifted far from their roots. They had taken a single step and thought to run back to clutch at their grandmother’s skirts. “Does it matter? I made up my mind,” their avatar said cheekily.

Ling Qi gave them an arch look as the steps of the dance took them apart, the shore growing further away with each step. As they came back together, she replied, “It matters to me. Are you really alright?”

“I am,” their avatar reassured her. “I really am, Ling Qi. I just got some perspective.”

Ling Qi gave them a suspicious look but subsided. Sixiang was glad. They weren’t sure they could put the truth of their realization into words that would not alarm her. They weren’t afraid anymore because there was nothing to be afraid of.

They weren’t human. Even if this incarnation ended, it wasn’t their end. Even if Ling Qi ended… It would hurt, but Sixiang would make sure that her song echoed through Dream afterward. That way, it wouldn’t be Ling Qi’s end either.

To think that cranky ice spirit had been more in touch with the truth of the world then they had. That was the benefit of age, they supposed, and in any case, they still came at it from different angles. If Zeqing had been [Endings], then their nature was [Impermanence].

No wonder their growth had stalled out.

Ling Qi was silent as they danced, and Sixiang considered her thoughts. Peering closer at her, Sixiang rippled in amusement. “Ling Qi, are you still cultivating?”

“I never stopped,” Ling Qi huffed. “If you won’t talk to me even now with Playful Muse’s Rapport, then I’ll just need to try Melodies of the Spirit Seekers to figure you out in some other way.”

Sixiang made their avatar huff in exasperation as they wove through the dance, circling one another, their hands separate for now. “You're so pushy,” they teased.

“I am when I need to be,” Ling Qi said primly, turning up her nose.

Sixiang snorted with laughter, the sound echoing from the waters all around. “I found my perspective and worked out what I valued more. Can’t you leave it at that?”

“I left things be the last time and look where it got us,” Ling Qi replied, their dance interrupted as the girl stepped forward to poke their avatar in the chest. “Just talk to me before it gets this bad next time, alright? I know I’m bad at noticing some things on my own. Please talk to me,” she pleaded, and the cord that bound them thrummed, as did the two other bonds representing Ling Qi’s other spirits.

Sixiang turned their avatar’s head toward Ling Qi, but the words they spoke came not from its avatar’s lips, but from all around. “I promise.” There was no reason to worry about Ling Qi tiring of them now; they would speak their mind more often and more clearly in the future.

“Good,” Ling Qi huffed, taking their avatar’s hands back up as they began the dance again from the beginning. “Now, I just need to figure out how to have the same conversation with Zhengui,” she grumbled.

“Convincing the lil’ big guy his Big Sis is fallible might take some doing,” they jested, but Sixiang squeezed her hand anyway in support.

“Tell me about it,” Ling Qi sighed. “Well, let’s set aside the heavy stuff for now. Do you think I’ve been cultivating the art your grandmother gave me wrong? Looking through your eyes, I feel like I’ve made a mistake somewhere in my understanding of Phantasmagoria of Lunar Revelry.”

Sixiang considered the threads of moonlight that Ling Qi had woven throughout her legs and lungs, turning them into channels of liquid silver. Before today, they would have said no, that Ling Qi was doing fine. However, they had realized how they had blinded themselves by viewing the waking world as less malleable, more different than it was.

So Sixiang’s avatar smiled mischievously, and before Ling Qi’s eyes could do more than widen in alarm, they stepped.

Dead and withered leaves spun up in a miniature cyclone as the world rippled. Where one moment there had been a silently meditating girl seated upon a stone, there was now a pair dancing through the leaves. Ling Qi’s eyes widened as she glanced around, disoriented, and she almost stumbled as Sixiang released her hands.

Sixiang could not help but smile even as they dissolved back into moonlight and wind. Even if they understood the trick of stepping between the Dream and the Real, manifesting was certainly rough.

Before they could dissolve wholly, Ling Qi met their eyes. “You will be showing me how to do that,” she said firmly.

<Of course,> Sixiang laughed, once more at home in Ling Qi’s mind. <Just make sure to clear your schedule.>

Threads 81-Parting 1

Ling Qi felt lighter in the days that followed her time with Sixiang. She had solved the problem, even if she still wasn’t wholly sure how, and her cultivation for the month was on schedule.

In her attempt to better understand Sixiang and their worries, she had cultivated a succession of arts in Songseeker’s Ceremony, Playful Muse’s Rapport, and Melodies of the Spirit Seekers. Songseeker’s Ceremony was the successor cultivation art to Eight Phase Ceremony that she had created in her vision quest with the aid of the Grinning, Hidden, and Dreaming Moon phases. Given her experience with the base art and that the successor art was tailored to her, she had easily reached the second song of Songseeker’s Ceremony, learning to channel the qi used in her base cultivation to simultaneously develop her domain and to better develop the growth of her bound spirits.

The Playful Muse Rapport art was strange to her. Unlike other arts, there were few qi exercises. What it did have mostly consisted of methods to accentuate the natural reverberations in a cultivator’s qi when expressing things to improve others’ perception of the speaker’s honesty and sincerity. The rest was essentially just an extremely dense manual of rhetorical technique, with a few subtle qi techniques that were more accompaniment to the lessons on body language and tone distributed throughout..

Melodies of the Spirit Seekers was more mystical, since it dealt with spirits. It was as much ritual as art, detailing exhaustively the methods for dealing with many minor spirits, and learning how their simple minds worked. This was then used as a foundation to launch into communications with more complex spirits, and determine how to convince or coerce them into long term agreements.

Thankfully, her final planned cultivation was much less stressful. The Roaming Moon’s Eye technique was simply an extension of her introductory divination art, but she still cultivated it dutifully. She did not think it would ever be her focus, but she could admit that being able to get a wider view of the situation would help immensely in the future.

So, she was hardly surprised when Gu Xiulan approached her while she was cultivating at the Silent Stones. Ling Qi had seen her coming after all, but the saddened expression on her face was worrying.

Ling Qi’s reaction to Xiulan’s reason for coming had been one of bewilderment. “What?” Ling Qi asked.

“Have you grown moss over your ears while cultivating?” Xiulan asked with a scoff. The other girl rested her hand on her hip and tapped her foot against the dry brown grass. “I said that I am going home.”

Ling Qi stared at her friend’s haughty expression. She hardly even needed her recent training to see the lie in it. Distress welled in her thoughts, and lessons and speech exercises fled from her thoughts. “Why, though? Your rank has been rising quickly, and so has your cultivation. You fought really well at the village, too. Why would your family…?”

“It is because I have been doing so well that I am being withdrawn.” Xiulan smirked, but there was a bitter edge to it. “There is a war brewing, Ling Qi, in case it has already slipped your mind. The Gu family cannot risk both Yanmei and myself.”

Ling Qi fell silent, staring at her friend. She fought down the urge to clench her fist and make denials. She wanted to make plans to find a way to convince her friend’s family to change their minds but…

<You can see that you wouldn’t be able to convince even her,> Sixiang murmured sadly. <She’s sad but proud, too.>

Ling Qi closed her eyes for a moment. “What does this mean for you then? You say they can’t spare the both of you, but don’t you have many older sisters?”

“None of them save Yanmei have shown my talent. Father believes that my growth can best be guided from home,” Xiulan answered, tossing her hair. She gave Ling Qi an irritable look. “Where are my congratulations, you rude girl? I know your standards are skewed thanks to that liege of yours, but it is quite an achievement to receive this kind of acknowledgement from my family at my age.”

“I’m sorry, Xiulan,” Ling Qi apologized. “I just…” For a moment, she restrained herself, propriety and her own nerves holding her back. It didn’t last. Too much restraint could be harmful. She stepped forward, and before her friend could do more than widen her eyes in surprise, Ling Qi wrapped her arms around Xiulan. “I don’t want to see you go.”

Xiulan squirmed uncomfortably in her grip, not quite pushing her away, but stiff and surprised nonetheless. The difference in their height probably didn’t help. “I… You… What in the world are you doing?” Her voice was muffled by Ling Qi’s gown.

Ling Qi felt moisture forming in the corner of her eyes. “You’ll just have to bear with it and give me a second.”

“It’s not as if I want to leave you behind either,” Xiulan grumbled at last. Though she did not return Ling Qi’s hug, she did manage to awkwardly pat Ling Qi on the back. “Now, release me already. What in the world has gotten into you?”

“It’s my fault, I think,” Sixiang said as Ling Qi released Xiulan, their voice carrying on the wind. “Sorry about that.”

Xiulan glanced around sharply as she smoothed the wrinkles in her gown before relaxing. “Your other spirit, the moon one. I forgot about them.”

“What can I say? I’m a lil’ shy,” Sixiang murmured.

Ling Qi glanced away, her cheeks darkening,embarrassed by her impulsiveness now that it was over. She would have to meditate more. “Sorry, Xiulan.”

Xiulan glanced away, blinking rapidly. “Apology accepted. Honestly, doing something like that outside.”

Ling Qi smiled wanly and didn’t comment on the wetness she spied in the other girl’s eyes before it curled away into steam. She frowned then. “Wait, what does that mean for your betrothal? I thought you were supposed to marry into the Fan family.”

Xiulan smirked. “That is certainly a side benefit of being in line for the heirship.”

“Does that mean Fan Yu is going to marry into the Gu then?” Ling Qi asked. Noble marriage practices still felt odd to her. It was strange to talk about a man marrying into a woman’s family.

Xiulan gaped at her and then shook her head rapidly, the ornaments in her hair jingling. “No, of course not! The Fan would never agree to such a thing.”

Right, the Fan were a comital clan, and even if Fan Yu wasn’t anywhere near the heirship, he was still part of the main family. That had been a silly question. “Congratulations,” she said, smiling. The thought of Xiulan leaving still hurt, but knowing that one of the things that had been burdening her friend most was gone helped, at least a little.

“Indeed.” Xiulan preened.

“When will you be leaving?” Ling Qi asked tentatively. She hoped there would still be some time.

“The first of the month,” Xiulan replied, her cheer fading. “Father already has my carriage and guards on the way.”

“I wouldn’t think you would need them,” Ling Qi teased halfheartedly. She should have expected that.

“It’s not as if a lady can be expected to handle every little beast on the road herself,” Xiulan said haughtily. “Would you have people imagine the Gu to be so poor?”

“Of course not,” Ling Qi said.

“In any case, I must soon get back to my sister. I sought you out today to extend an invitation. Will you see me off? It has been some time since we have had one of our little ladies’ night,” Xiulan asked, a touch stiffly.

Ling Qi studied the emotions on her friend’s face. “I’ll make time. Just make sure there are plenty of sweets.”

Xiulan huffed but looked pleased. “Really, still a ruffian at heart. I remember you scraping the bowl with your fingers the first time.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t have a sweet tooth,” Ling Qi chuckled. “Tell me the day, Xiulan. I’ll be there.”

“The last day of the month. I already received approval from my sister to take the evening off from training,” Xiulan replied.

They exchanged their goodbyes, and as her friend left the field, Ling Qi sat down heavily on her boulder.

“What are you going to do?” Sixiang asked. Ling Qi was thankful for the faint pressure of hands on her shoulders.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Ling Qi replied with a bitter smile. “It’s not my choice.”

Saying the words felt like ripping off a scab, but she couldn’t say that she didn’t feel better afterward. Something that wasn’t quite contentment settled in her stomach. All she could do was see her friend off. Well, that and bombarding her with letters. She would not allow her connection to one of her best friends fray. They would see each other again.

“Heh, that’s a scary look on your face,” Sixiang chuckled. “I like it.”

“Hush, you,” Ling Qi huffed. Still, it didn’t feel right. She wanted to do something now. She wanted to help her friend, give her something…

“It’s not wrong to give someone you’re parting from a gift, right?” Ling Qi asked aloud.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” Sixiang hummed. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure.” Ling Qi traced patterns of frost on the stone with her finger as she thought. Her most immediate thought was jewelry; Xiulan did love her shiny things. A matched pair would… Well, she would have to hunt down something that didn’t have romantic implications, but she could do it.

Then she recalled that Bao Qian had mentioned something about recording songs. She had balked at the idea, disliking the idea of selling her work and compositions, but if it was just for Xiulan… She still had a few days. She would compose something.

Threads 82-Parting 2

“I’m surprised to see that you are still here,” Ling Qi said as the door of the workshop closed behind her.

Bao Qian let out a good-natured harrumph, adjusting the glass monocle on his eye as he examined a piece of carved jade. “Miss Ling, there’s no call for that sort of accusation.”

Ling Qi glanced around. It had actually taken her some time to find the Bao scion’s place of residence. Rather than a room at the town’s inn or a rented townhouse, his trail had led her out into the woods where she had found an odd and brightly painted wagon. The inside of the wagon was larger than the outside, though not by a great deal. Despite that, it managed to feel cramped and crowded with the tables strewn with glittering gemstones and jade. Strands and nuggets of precious metals hung from the ceiling like curing herbs. “Sorry, that wasn’t my intent. I just expected your family to withdraw you given the Sect’s new war footing.”

Bao Qian set down the piece of jade in his hands, laying it on the table where it joined many like it. “Mm, I did receive leave to do so. Cousin Qingling likely received a similar letter. Naturally, I refused.”

“And why is that?” Ling Qi questioned, drifting through the hanging metal strands without disturbing them. She wasn’t fooled by the seeming thief's fantasy of wealth strewn about haphazardly and without guard; the wagon’s security formations were clear as half-bared blades to her senses, which made her wonder what else was concealed. She found a clear space on a work table to seat herself on.

“I would have brought out another seat if you had asked,” he chuckled, and the padded, floating metal disc he was seated upon spun, turning him to face her new seating. “But, to answer your question, I have chosen to make my living on the border, not to mention our hopeful partnership. I can’t imagine you would think well of a coward who would flee at the first sign of violence. The Sect is already making use of my services in the tunnels.”

Ling Qi raised an eyebrow as she settled into her seat, crossing her ankles and letting her hands rest demurely in her lap. “How much do the Bao know about the things in the caves?”

“There are caves, and there are caves, Miss Ling,” Bao Qian replied, popping the monocle off to polish the glass on his shirt. “The sort the Sect’s troubles have erupted from are toxic obstacles, and we know them well enough to avoid them like pockets of sun-gas or rotted stone.”

Ling Qi’s intuition and the lessons from her new arts told her that there was something more there but that it would do no good to pursue it. “So many seem to have at least a little knowledge of the caves. Why aren’t they explored more deeply?”

“I won’t get into the technical details, unless you wish to hear me prattle on for some time, but you are aware of the impurities that fill those places?” Bao Qian asked, dismissing the talisman in his hand with a flick of his wrist.

“Yes, it’s toxic, but surely more powerful cultivators can endure,” Ling Qi replied.

“It is their power that is the problem,” Bao Qian explained. “The impurity grows denser the deeper one goes, and it reacts more violently to great quantities of qi, let alone higher energies. Exploring those depths has long been considered both pointless and fraught. It is only recently that certain craftsmen have begun to find any use for the materials in the caves.”

Ling Qi wasn’t really satisfied with the explanation, but she wasn’t going to press any further at this juncture. It wasn’t what she was here for anyway. “Well, I guess we’ll find out more soon regardless.”

“Indeed,” Bao Qian agreed with a frown. “In any case, might I ask after your purpose, Miss Ling? While I do not mind discussing current events, unless I have misjudged you, I do not think you the type to stop by for a chat with me.”

Ling Qi nodded, not seeing the need to refute him on that. “I was interested in acquiring a recording talisman. You’ve mentioned them before.”

“I did. I had thought you averse to the idea,” Bao Qian said, a spark of interest in his eyes. “What changed your mind?”

Ling Qi waved him off. “Nothing. I do not intend to make it a regular thing. I just want to make a recording for a friend who is leaving the Sect.”

He looked disappointed but swiftly rallied. “Unfortunate, but I can provide. What are your requirements for shape, color, and size?”

Ling Qi blinked, suddenly on the backfoot. She had assumed that Bao Qian would just have one lying around. “Ah… White or red… and a flame shape.” She quickly recovered. “You intend to make it yourself then?”

“Of course. Best to keep supply lines short if it can be done. Goes as well for armies as it does for crafting.” Bao Qian chuckled. “Hmm, I think I can manage. I have a supply of red and pink pieces I could fit together for a flame motif. The size?”

“Pendant-sized, maybe?” Ling Qi asked tentatively.

The young man pursed his lips and closed his eyes, seemingly doing calculations in his head. “I will manage. I’ll need a green stone to cover my material costs.”

“You’re going to charge me?” Ling Qi asked, bemused.

Bao Qian opened his eyes, giving her a flat look. “Miss Ling, I am already giving a discount. I wish to be your partner, not a convenient dispensary.”

“That’s fair,” Ling Qi acknowledged. She chewed her lower lip as she thought. Her supply of green stones was beginning to shrink. She would most likely be fine until the inter-sect tournament, but… “Here,” she said, flicking a stone to him that had materialized in her hand. “And if you like, we can arrange to meet sometime in the coming month. I will be working with Zhengui, so perhaps we can begin making some arrangements.”

He caught the stone, rolling it between his fingers. “Very well. I shall need no more than two days. I will send a note when your commission is done.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Ling Qi replied, dipping her head. “If you will excuse me, I have some cultivation and composing to do.”

***

It had been a fun night.

Empty bowls, baskets, and cutlery lay strewn across Xiulan’s table. In her bedroom, countless clip ties and ornaments lay scattered around the mirror like forgotten treasure.

As the sun began to color the horizon, the home was silent. The sounds of merriment had faded and at last, ceased. Ling Qi and Xiulan sat beside one another on the long couch that filled one wall of her front room. The fire in the hearth had burned low, leaving only faint red embers among the ashes.

In Ling Qi’s hands, she held the last cup of the tea she had brought along, chilled as she had come to enjoy. Beside her, Xiulan held an empty cup which had held a sparkling peach wine. Sixiang, who had been so instrumental in keeping up the mood earlier in the night, had fallen silent, knowing that their time had passed.

Xiulan idly swirled the dregs of her wine in her cup and let out a sigh, releasing a wisp of steam and sparks from between her lips. “Did you know that when we first met, I had intended to bully you? I found your presence around Han Jian annoying.”

“I had some idea. It’s one of the reasons I tried so hard to be friendly with you,” Ling Qi said dryly. “What made you change your mind?” She took a small sip of her tea. It was a dark and bitter blend, and she was coming to enjoy it.

Xiulan smirked self-deprecatingly. “I was impressed, nothing more. That day in the training field, you were afraid, but you faced me anyway. Untrained and clumsy as you were, I almost let you land a blow in my arrogance.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Ling Qi grumbled into her tea. “I know that wasn’t it. You kept poking and testing me after that.”

Xiulan sighed, letting her head hang. “I think I came to appreciate your forthrightness. As you know, I have always tried so very hard to live up to my mother’s lessons.”

“I know and appreciate it,” Ling Qi replied with a lopsided smile. “After all, thanks to you, I’m not a totally uncivilized little feral girl.”

Xiulan let out a distinctly unladylike snort of laughter. “Oh, don’t you flatter me. Bai Meizhen would have cleaned you up eventually.”

“Maybe, but I probably wouldn’t have learned to have some fun with it,” Ling Qi mused. Despite her complaints, some part of her had enjoyed going around the markets with her friends, chatting and eyeing goods. To another part of her, even now, it felt like a terrible waste that her every instinct cried out against. She eyed the thin silver links and tiny bells of the jewelry on her hand. Even if she ignored its value as a talisman, just the materials that composed it could have fed and housed her for weeks, if not months, in Tonghou. “You said ‘tried,’” Ling Qi pointed out, glancing at her friend.

Xiulan nodded faintly, not raising her head. “I cannot follow all of her lessons. I love my mother dearly, and I love the appreciation for beauty and refinement which she has taught me, but her way of words and masks isn’t mine. I… I cannot do it.”

Ling Qi hesitantly placed her hands on Xiulan’s shoulder. The words sounded like they pained Xiulan deeply to say. Ling Qi did not voice her thought that Xiulan had increasingly abandoned that kind of thing from almost the beginning of last year. The Xiulan she knew reveled in violence and battle and found a challenge in every insult and insinuation. She almost said some words of encouragement, empty platitudes about parental understanding, but she didn’t know Ai Xiaoli. “It’s better to know what you can’t do rather than beating yourself up over failing at it,” she said instead. She couldn’t stop or slow down, so there had to be another solution.

“You don’t have half the wrinkles necessary to go speaking like that,” Xiulan retorted, raising her head.

“Well, if that’s what I’m going to get for my kindness, I’ll just be silent,” Ling Qi harrumphed, taking a dainty sip from her tea. In her lap, she toyed with a pendant resting in the palm of her hand. She still hadn’t found a good moment, but their time was running out.

Xiulan was silent, and after several long moments, Ling Qi looked at her out of the corner of her eye. Xiulan was looking out the window at the first hint of the sun’s disc peeking over the misty horizon. Her lips moved, but Ling Qi didn’t hear a word.

Ling Qi knew better than to press Xiulan. She finished the last of her tea.

“I will miss you a great deal.” This time, she caught the words, spoken in just barely audible tones.

Ling Qi’s hand clenched around the pendant. “I will miss you as well. I hope you enjoy getting bombarded with letters.”

“I’ll make sure to answer every one,” Xiulan chuckled. “I suppose that we really should begin cleaning up…”

“Xiulan, I have a present for you,” Ling Qi said suddenly. All this dithering and worrying. It really was best just to say things clearly. She had spent too much time learning otherwise. “It might be a little inappropriate given our relationship, but…”

“Ling Qi, what did you get me?” Xiulan asked, amused. It seemed that her melancholy could not contain her natural instinct to tease.

“It’s a song,” Ling Qi said, turning over her hand. The pendant that rested there was an intricately carved piece, fitting many small pieces of red and pink jade together into the shape of dancing flames. It was so realistic that it seemed that the tongues of flame might start to move at any moment. It was just what she had asked for.

However, at the bottom, it darkened, pink becoming red, and then crimson, and at last, black along the bottom edge. She couldn’t blame Bao Qian though. It was her song that had done that. “I composed it for you. Thought you might like to listen to it now and again and be reminded of me,” she said, embarrassed as she toyed with the talisman. Finally, she held out her hand, offering it to Xiulan.

Xiulan looked at her in surprise, any hint of teasing gone. “I see. I… thank you, Ling Qi,” she said a touch unsteadily, cradling the gift in her hands. “How do I…?”

“You just channel a trickle of qi into the carved channels,” Ling Qi said, looking back down.

She didn’t need to see as the song she had composed began to play. Its tones brought to mind the image of a bright and lively flame, burning merrily on a cold winter’s day. Though the wind blew and the snows fell, the flame burned brighter with every gust. It puffed and danced, facing every challenge with courage. It was bright and beautiful, even when lightning struck and nearly scattered its tinder. Despite everything, the flame never stopped burning, and the flame never guttered low. Though one day, the wind picked it up, carrying it far away, the flame never faltered…

Ling Qi let out a sharp breath as the song cut off, the qi powering it draining away suddenly, leaving her sitting once more beside Xiulan, who held the pendant in her hand. Xiulan stared down at it with unreadable eyes.

“Sorry if it’s a little silly and childish,” Ling Qi said, picking at the hems of her sleeves. “I just thought… you deserve some praise, you know? You’ve accomplished a lot. I believe in you, Xiulan. I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

Xiulan didn’t answer at first, but soon, she nodded. “Thank you, Ling Qi,” she said, and her voice almost cracked. “You should go. I will handle cleaning up. It would be rude to ask you to stay as a guest.”

Ling Qi didn’t point out the inconsistency. Instead, she leaned over and once again embraced Xiulan, and this time, the girl returned it, squeezing her in a one-armed hug.

This would not be their last goodbye.

Threads 83-Integration 1

The Singing Mist Blade hummed in her grasp, its song quiet as she held it in front of her face, studying the curves of the metal and the uncountable characters finely etched into the curves of the twisting blade. A domain weapon was an odd thing, almost extraneous in many situations. Ling Qi’s acted as a pestering wasp, buzzing about enemies and distracting them, infecting her enemies with enfeebling qi through the medium of its song.

But it never quite fit. She had trained until she could move it like she would any other limb, but holding it in her hand, it didn’t really feel like part of her body or spirit. It was just an attachment.

Ling Qi released the polished handle, never meant for a wielder’s touch and let the blade float over her lap, humming softly and trailing mist. She looked up to see Cai Renxiang sitting across from her next to the vent in the heiress’ meditation room. Cai’s domain weapon, a twisting ribbon of silk hung with tiny bells, floated between her hands. The girl’s eyes were half closed, and the silk rippled with prismatic light. Ling Qi looked again at her own weapon with a frown, feeling it through her connection. Even as she wielded the blade with more precision than ever before, recently, her domain weapon had felt incongruous.

“What is our plan, now that the challenges are closed?” Ling Qi asked, feeling the way her qi trickled through the artificial channels carved into her domain blade.

“We need be at the forefront of the Sect’s military efforts,” Cai Renxiang answered calmly. “Our efforts during the incursion have been rewarded, have they not?”

Ling Qi let out a disgruntled sound at the response. With the start of the eighth month, Ling Qi had made a notable jump from her previous rank of 756 to rank 730 based on her performance in defense of the three villages. Cai Renxiang had made a smaller but still respectable climb to rank 708, and most of her friends were steadily climbing as well. She glared at her unresponsive blade. “Is that really satisfactory?”

<Can’t stand being beholden to chance, huh?> Sixiang chuckled silently in her head.

“It is not,” Cai Renxiang replied. She did not open her eyes. “But matters are being decided above our heads for the moment. We must prepare to snatch opportunity as it passes by, but to seek it out at this moment will reflect poorly upon us. I share a degree of your discontent however. We must be aggressive in volunteering for duty. I have signed up for front line operations in the Wall.”

“Will they really let you do that?” Ling Qi asked, giving her liege a dubious look. Testing aside, she was still the heir of the Cai.

“Mother would be displeased if they did not,” Cai Renxiang said with certainty, easily picking up Ling Qi’s real question.

<There’s not coddling your kids, and then there’s that,> Sixiang grumbled. <And that’s not even the thing she’s worked up about.>

Ling Qi could see where Sixiang was coming from, and she didn’t disagree. While she would not claim to know Cai Renxiang’s heart, she was fairly certain that the girl had at least one thing in common with her. She would not be satisfied with less than her best.

“My friend, Su Ling, hinted at something going on with the enemies below. Li Suyin is probably involved, too. I’ll see if I can get my name on the shortlist for that.”

At that, Cai Renxiang cracked an eye open. “Is that so? Very good. I will be relying upon you to keep up. Please do not forget your other tasks.”

Ling Qi pursed her lips. “That Wang guy, right? I’ll look into it.”

<You’re trying to brush up on tactics, right? You should ask him for advice. People always like to feel learned, and it’s easy to feel positively toward someone who asks for your help,> Sixiang whispered.

Ling Qi grunted in response. It wasn’t the first time Sixiang had suggested that strategy since they had “returned,” but it irked her pride. Wang Chao had been dismissive of her at the party. Approaching from a position of weakness didn’t sit right with her.

“Do you believe you have finished forging your connection?” Cai Renxiang asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Ling Qi glanced down at her weapon, feeling her qi soaked into every bit of its spiritual presence. Faintly, she heard the strain of an unclear melody. She cleared her mind, turning her focus fully back to the weapon and then nodded. “Yes. So what does integration entail?”

“There are many texts available on the subject,” Cai Renxiang admonished.

Ling Qi smiled faintly. “I learn better from people. Besides, I would like to know your thoughts on the matter, Lady Renxiang.”

Cai Renxiang let out a dissatisfied hum, but she did not admonish her. Ling Qi took it as a tentatively good sign. Since that day at Zhengui’s hill, her liege had been a little more permissive in private. “At the most base mechanical level, it is an exercise in spiritual surgery, transferring an art and the meridians it occupies to new housing. It is permanent, the first of many such steps we will take on the road to the peak of cultivation. While this one is a small sacrifice, a matter of utility rather than true loss, it is wise to consider the implications well.”

Thoughts of the sacrifices necessary for higher cultivation were troubling, but Ling Qi was well beyond the point of stopping. “And what is the point of that?”

“It trains the mind for the stages which come after,” Cai Renxiang explained, letting her eyes drift shut again. “A cultivator is not merely their body, and a cultivator’s body is not merely flesh. Even if you can speak the words, you do not understand them without experience. These exercises replace much trial and error which our ancestors needed to perform to ascend the realms.”

Ling Qi understood. “You called that explanation base and mechanical. Is there something more to it?”

Cai Renxiang was silent for a time, but eventually, she answered. “It is not possible to excise and transfer a piece of your spirit to a new bodily vessel without affecting yourself. You know that climbing the realms of cultivation requires sacrifices, things cast aside. What you place in your domain weapon is something which will remain with you always.”

“If you do not mind, what did you put in your weapon?”

The silk floating between Cai Renxiang’s hands rippled, and the bells sounded faintly, ephemeral and echoing. The crimson eyes splayed across her chest narrowed in hunger. “My desire for purity. You know well my attitude toward disorder and uncleanliness.”

“I said I was sorry for putting the tea leaves back wrong,” Ling Qi mumbled. Rarely had she seen her liege more blatantly incensed as she had been this morning. “That doesn’t sound like something you would want to be rid of though.”

“It is not. Nor is removal the purpose of the exercise,” Cai Renxiang said. “For as long as I can remember, I took pleasure in ordering my surroundings, even more so after my awakening. Yet the world is untidy. It can be improved, but my plans will never be executed to perfection. This is not because the world cannot be predicted or ordered, but because I have failed to account for all factors. It is important to be able to accept some degree of disorder and uncleanliness in action, but it is more important to not forget the goal I am seeking past that tolerance.”

Ling Qi nodded slowly. “It’s what drives you. By enshrining it in your domain, you make sure you never lose touch with it.”

“Precisely,” Cai Renxiang agreed.

Ling Qi hummed. It was a little peek into the other girl’s head, and for all that Sixiang grumbled, she even understood, just a little. Though she had never been in a position to act on it, wasn’t having things in order, having things under control, something that anyone would want? She had spent many a night out in the cold, wishing she had more control over her life, even if she had not understood that to be the core of her wish.

<I’m not sure I agree, but this isn’t really the time. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to do the same as her,> Sixiang grumbled.

“How does that work with people who have multiple domain weapons or change them later?”

“The weapon is just the physical housing. Although the process is longer and more difficult, it remains possible to transfer the meridians to a new device,” Cai Renxiang explained. “Multiple weapons are a matter of style and arts. It is unusual to have more than one integrated weapon. It would be counter intuitive given that the domain weapon is a practice exercise for the functions of higher cultivation. Perhaps it might be useful if one were certain that they were not going to reach the fourth realm.”

Ling Qi looked at her blade, thinking of which art to enshrine in her domain. Over the previous day and this morning, she had considered integrating her mentor Zeqing’s most potent gift, the Frozen Soul Serenade, and the sometimes clashing, but often decisive, art from Elder Ying, Thousand Ring Fortress. But again and again, she came back to her oldest active art, the one first granted to her by Xin in Elder Zhou’s trial, and the one which had seen her through so many trials, the Forgotten Vale Melody,

“Have you decided?” Cai Renxiang asked.

Ling Qi breathed out and nodded. “My Forgotten Vale Melody. What else?” Ling Qi asked rhetorically, smiling faintly. The Forgotten Vale Melody and the Sable Crescent Step had been the arts that allowed her to begin growing in truth. Sable Crescent Step would be succeeded by the Laughing Flight of the Wind Thief art and so would stay with her, but there was no such continuance for her melody.

Perhaps in time, she could have gone out, questing for the vale where the traveler had composed the melody, but Ling Qi thought that would be missing the point. It was never the actual, physical vale that mattered. And besides, wasn’t it better to make the melody her own, rather than chasing someone else’s insights?

Cai Renxiang merely nodded, not privy to her thoughts. “Very good. I trust I need not review the Sect’s lessons in meridian compression?”

Ling Qi shook her head absently as she closed her eyes, turning her attention inward. Silver light flickered under her eyelids as a single mirror-like wisp manifested in the air, and she examined herself through it. It was not often that she focused so closely on her spiritual self. Between her resources and Suyin’s meridian talisman, the opening of meridians had become a trivial task, something to be done swiftly between more intensive cultivation.

Her dantian blazed like a miniature star. A churning elemental furnace encased in soft, reflective silver, the light within blazed through the argent skin. Her meridians shone in their multitude; lines of the deepest black wound through her legs, a thick bundle of verdant green coiled around shimmering rainbow ran straight up her spine, veins of gleaming ice descended her arms and branched out through her fingertips, and threads of colorless and silver qi wound through her head and curled around her eyes and ears with even more curled in her chest, nesting her heart and lungs.

She had many more meridians than an average cultivator could ever hope to open. Cai Renxiang was much the same. Briefly, she turned her attention to the other girl. Cai’s meridians were a dense web of metal, mountain stone, and blinding light. Where Ling Qi’s channels were an organic tangle, Cai Renxiang’s meridians were all right angles and straight lines.

It would not stay easy forever. Her spirit, already dense with spiritual channels, would require more and more care. She had already used most of the “easy” spaces where veins of impurity ran, leaving space that could be cleared for use with relative ease. Soon, she would have to begin carefully carving new channels where no clear paths lay. The elder in charge of the lessons had been very clear on how painstaking the process was if a cultivator wanted to avoid causing themselves great harm by disrupting or damaging their extant meridians.

Ling Qi let out a breath and quieted her whirling thoughts, feeling the phantom sensation of Sixiang’s hands resting reassuringly on her shoulders. She needed to focus. Right now, she had some compression to do.

***

Forgotten Vale Melody was her most familiar art, but it was still afternoon by the time she had opened her eyes, having finished the task of weaving the patterns of the melody into only three channels. Cai Renxiang still sat across from her, not having moved a single centimeter since she had closed her eyes. Ling Qi rolled her shoulders once out of habit, having long left behind simple aches. “Finished.”

Cai Renxiang’s eyes opened, and the feeling of surging qi that came with spiritual cultivation subsided. “I see. You are prepared to begin the procedure then?”

“Yes,” Ling Qi said. “I don’t want to waste your time. Thank you for offering to show me how this is done.”

“It is no trouble,” Cai Renxiang replied evenly. “I am merely doing my duty.”

“And the invitation to morning tea?” Ling Qi asked lightly. “I didn’t mind the sampling—that Ebon Rivers blend you had was great—but I’d hardly call that ‘duty.’”

Cai Renxiang gave her a hard look and then proceeded to ignore her statement. “Focus upon the meridians that you intend to transfer.”

Ling Qi sighed and turned her attention inward again. What worked on Meizhen did not work for Cai Renxiang; the girl was not exactly reactive to teasing. Their relationship was still kind of awkward, and Ling Qi wasn’t quite sure yet what level of familiarity was acceptable. It made her feel better that Sixiang was pretty sure that the same was true for Cai Renxiang.

<It’s pretty questionable if Meizhen is the one who gets teased these days,> Sixiang teased. Ling Qi ignored them with great dignity, focusing on her task. The three meridians she intended to transfer stood out in her mind’s eye.

“Feel the places where your spirit touches upon the physical world,” Cai Renxiang continued. “It is these that you will need to excise. Do not tamper with the meridian’s connection to your dantian. Doing so will only destroy it.”

“Understood,” Ling Qi murmured. They were bright spots like glimmering pinpricks on her heart and lungs scattered semi-randomly along the channel’s length. “How do I go about severing the connection?”

“Your channels are a part of you. It is simply a matter of will,” Cai Renxiang answered. “I found the visualization of needles and thread useful, imagining it as plucking a single thread from a tapestry. I suspect you will require something of a more musical bent.”

Cai Renxiang wasn’t wrong. She focused upon the channel brimming with music qi. It was easy to shift her understanding of meridians as lines of color to something more musical. The image she held in her mind dissolved, replaced by the thrumming of a song. It had an unsteady and uncertain beat, but Ling Qi liked to imagine there was some beauty in it. Absently, she hummed to herself, feeling out the ways that the channels twitched and reacted to the changing tune. There was a sharp pain whenever she began to pull one away, and she grimaced.

“Is it supposed to hurt?” she asked.

“Yes,” her liege said. “Once you have loosened the meridian from its connections, you must move it into the vessel you have prepared and reestablish its connection in the new housing. As you do so, you will need to focus upon the part of yourself which you wish to integrate into the domain weapon. This is needed to solidify the new connections and prevent their fraying and breaking. Do not rush this. It will likely take you a day or two to complete the process.”

“Understood.” Ling Qi breathed out. “Is it alright if I stay here while I do the exercise then?”

“I have already cleared the matter with the Sect,” Cai Renxiang replied. Ling Qi heard the faint rustle of cloth as the other girl stood up. “I will check on your progress as time allows.”

Ling Qi nodded absently as the other girl left, the door to the meditation room closing with a click behind her. Now, she was alone with her thoughts, and Sixiang, of course.

“Thanks for remembering,” Sixiang whispered on the wind. “I’ll keep quiet and let you concentrate. Be careful, Ling Qi.”

Threads 84-Integration 2

Ling Qi’s breath hitched as the first connection came loose. It felt like a needle had jabbed into her flesh and twisted, but she had endured worse. She smoothed out her breathing as she began to work the next one loose.

To her, Forgotten Vale Melody represented many things of her past and present, but what was the most important to hold onto?

Was it loneliness? The melody exemplified the emotion, and although the traveler had chosen it, to Ling Qi, his regrets were laid bare in the melody. The memory of nights alone in the streets and isolation amidst even the most crowded streets were not pleasant memories, but they were a core part of her. It was because of those memories that she worked so hard and clung to her friends so tightly. It was why Xiulan’s departure hurt so much, why spending time with Meizhen made her happy, and why she was so determined to break through to Cai Renxiang.

Was it ambition? The traveler had wished to see sights that no human eye had ever seen in order to compose something beautiful enough to offer unto the moon. Ling Qi knew that she was unusual in her drive. She had seen the peak of human power and she wanted it so badly that it hurt. She wanted to keep walking the path of cultivation and never stop. She wanted to reach the top. She also wanted to keep her friends close and pull them along their own paths, so that no one would need to be left behind. She wanted to never fear.

Was it desire? The traveler had abandoned everything out of his desire for beauty. He had desired to fulfill his soul’s yearning for forgotten vistas. Ling Qi could not and would not do something like that, but she understood. She had desired a friend, and so she had spoken with nobles on her first day at the Sect and even approached Meizhen, who had seemed so alone that day. She desired to help her mentor, so she had braved death and rescued Zeqing’s daughter from herself. She was, in the end, a greedy girl. Perhaps it was important not to forget that?

In the end, could there be any other answer? It was loneliness that had made her what she was. It had shaped the foundations of her worldview and wants. It was not a happy thing, but Ling Qi thought that she would lose something if she ever forgot loneliness. If memories of cold streets and lonely crowds, of cold winters and empty bellies faded away, what would she become?

She breathed out, and the sensation of her flesh and blood, of the room around her faded. Her hands were tangles of ice blue and matte black cords, and the blade floating between them was beginning to shine. Before, she could direct the weapon with a thought. Now she was beginning to feel it as if it were truly a part of her.

The twisting metal blade in her hands began to soften around the edges, the definition between metal and mist fading as Ling Qi began to attach the first meridian to the empty vessel. In her mind, a single high note rang as she began to forge the connection. It wasn’t very hard. The “free” end of her meridian seemed eager for something to connect to to seal off the flow of music qi spilling raw into the world.

As she carefully affixed the opening of the meridian to its new home, the weapon tingled uncomfortably like a limb that had been slept on. The music flowing through the meridian began to change, slowing and growing melancholy as she focused her thoughts on the feeling she wanted to pour into the blade, and in her hands, the physical form began to pulse and twist.

A second meridian came loose at her coaxing, cold and thrashing, liquid in the grip of her mind, and through it flowed memories she would not allow herself to forget. She remembered spending days and nights alone, furtively scrabbling like a beast just to survive. The blade thinned and wavered, growing narrow.

Last came darkness. The unmoored meridian clung to her, curling like a serpent around her wrist as she plucked it free. Her first real personal connections had been like water in a drought, healing cracked and parched earth. They had led her to discard old instincts. Images of scurrying bodies and sharp teeth flashed through her thoughts, and blood red tinged her fingertips.

It hadn’t been easy to change. She had fallen from her path, given in to fear and helplessness in the Bloody Moon dream, but she would not struggle with that decision again. The moment of decision as the knife from that rat-thing assassin plunged toward her neck returned to her.

The third meridian connected, and she felt her domain blade as if it were her own arm. She flexed new muscle, and the blade twirled. She breathed, and the soft sound of the Forgotten Vale Melody played.

Ling Qi opened her eyes and looked upon the change her cultivation had wrought in the dark and twisted blade. Its profile was simpler now, having become a long, thin double-edged blade. Although it was still hollow, the gaps in the metal had narrowed until they were no more than the holes on a flute, faint wisps of mist leaking from the darkened openings, and the handle a mouthpiece of dark lacquered wood whose grain shifted like liquid.

For a time, Ling Qi remained seated, idly manipulating her Singing Mist Blade through the air, altering the tone and beat of the faint melody it played. It felt like stretching a cramped limb, muscles tingling and blood flowing in response to her exertion. The blade was her, but it was not flesh and blood. It felt foreign and disorienting. Her body had changed; she wasn’t quite the same anymore. And yet, when she grasped the handle, she felt like she was holding her own hand. When she played the Forgotten Vale Melody, it felt as if she were playing it with her own lips and breath.

She closed her eyes and focused on how she had gotten here. It was her choice to walk the path. She was going to keep growing, and she would change on the way, but that was fine. That was the price of cultivation.

Ling Qi stood, and her blade whistled faintly as it rose to hover over her shoulder. Ling Qi looked down at her hand, absently flexing it open and closed. Then she took a deep breath, and Awoke.

Loose stones on the cavern floor rattled and shook, and the air thrummed. All around her, the world went white and grey. It wasn’t like before. The mist didn’t pour forth or flow. With an action no more strenuous than opening a closed fist, the Mist simply was. Her blade keened softly, and the phantoms formed. Gaunt and desperate faces and ragged knives formed in the mist, alongside stalking beasts, while mocking spirits whirled overhead. The eyes of her phantoms were no longer crimson but pools of black, empty and accusing. Through her blade, she played her song, and the mist went colder still, growing thick and clinging. She could feel its hunger, its loneliness, and its desire. She could feel it because it was her. Fuzzy and faint as it was still, Ling Qi felt the disorientation of being in every part of the room at once.

<You’ll get used to it,> Sixiang said. <Congrats, Ling Qi.>

Then, the door opened, unsealing the meditation room. Cai Renxiang stood in the doorway, and the mist rushed out into the unoccupied hall, suffusing the air and surrounding her. Ling Qi felt the difference then. The Mist around Cai Renxiang was still cool, but it was a spring morning’s chill and not winter’s harsh bite. Around her liege, the phantoms faced outward, menacing with fang and blade, and the coldness of the lonely street was replaced by the warmth of a friend’s arm around the shoulders.

“It is good that your efforts have borne fruit,” Cai Renxiang said mildly, briefly glancing around. “However, please reign yourself in. You are leaking.”

Ling Qi blinked and flushed. Cai Renxiang was right. Leaving the open door aside, the sealing on the room was imperfect, and she could feel streamers of herself seeping through the cracks into the rest of the house. With a feeling like sucking in her stomach, the mist shrank, condensing into the area right around her and Cai. She would have shrunken the Mist further, but it actually felt a little good to have a friend within it.

“Sorry about that,” Ling Qi apologized, smiling. “I got lost in the sensation.”

“Understandable,” Cai Renxiang said. She reached out to prod one of the shifting phantoms near her, frowning thoughtfully as it dispersed into smoke. “Your domain is a... unique sensation.”

Somehow, that statement just made her feel more anxious, Ling Qi thought irritably. “Well, what is your’s like then?”

“Inwardly focused,” Cai Renxiang replied.

“That’s unexpected,” Ling Qi said as she struggled to shrink the Mist further. “I guess that makes sense with what you’ve told me.”

Her liege merely nodded agreeably. “I have prepared tea, a new blend from the Ebon Rivers stock. Since you have been in meditation for a day and a half, you should join me. You can begin practicing restraining yourself.”

“Sure,” Ling Qi said, taking a step forward only to pause. She was curious. “Do you think you could show me your domain again? I’ve seen your weapon, but I think it might be different now.”

Cai Renxiang paused as well, and for a second, Ling Qi thought she had overstepped herself again. Then, there was the faint ringing of bells, and Cai Renxiang was bathed in light. Her face was an imperious and featureless mask of liquid metal and light, and her gown’s empyreal armor was forged from radiance. She looked daunting, inhuman, perfect, and serene.

She was so very alone.

“Hmm?” Cai Renxiang murmured in surprise and glanced down to see a child formed from mist and fog gently grasp her fingers. The child had familiar dark features, hair that could not be tamed, and ice blue eyes.

Ling Qi let out a squeak of morbid embarrassment, and she wrenched her domain back in, the Mist vanishing in an instant. Cai Renxiang’s armor and radiance flashed away as well, leaving only two girls staring awkwardly at each other.

The tea time afterward was easily the most uncomfortable time she had experienced in a while.

Threads 85-Household 1

Ling Qi watched the house servant who was leading her inside through a silver gleam in the fold of her gown. The young woman was a few years her elder, but nevertheless, her head was low, and the tension in her shoulders was clear. Ling Qi thought that she might be the same person who had first opened the gate for her back at the beginning when she had first visited after hiring them, but she couldn’t be sure. That kind of said it all, didn’t it?

<Not all your fault. I shoulda been more assertive in pointing out when you were drifting,> Sixiang murmured.

Ling Qi wasn’t sure she agreed. Her promise to Zhengui and Hanyi had made her think, and her recent integration had changed her perception a little as well. Not, admittedly, about her mortal household, but about the dismissal she had delivered to her own mother for expressing the same concern as her spirits. It was just that those things tied together. The people she had hired were friends of her mother, or at least, people her mother cared about. What did it say about her that she dismissed their existence so easily?

Ling Qi hummed to herself as she stepped inside, and she waited as the young woman closed the door behind them, allowing the servant to take the lead again. It wasn’t necessary, but it was polite.

She had spoken to Cai Renxiang on the subject before, and she probably hadn’t understood properly then. So much of imperial society, its traditions and etiquette and laws, were built around keeping cultivators grounded and engaged. Elder Hua Su had poked fun at the idea of sitting in a cave for a hundred years back in the Outer Sect, but the truth was that the scenario was a very easy one to drift into. This time, she had disappeared for a day and a half, and at other times, she had vanished for longer. Those times would only grow in length as she ascended the realms of cultivation, she understood.

Ling Qi had meditated on loneliness in her efforts to better control her domain, and the thought of the future had frightened her a little. She wouldn’t stop climbing, couldn’t counteract the separation wrought by cultivation and didn’t want to, but she couldn’t become unmoored either. Her mother was important to her, and so for her sake, she had to try at least a little with the people her mother cared about.

<I’ll give ya a swat if you drift off your course this time,> Sixiang teased. <So here’s the first one. You’re not quite restrained.>

Ling Qi frowned in consternation, wondering what Sixiang was talking about. Then, it struck her. The mortal woman’s footsteps made faint sounds on the polished floor, and her gown rustled with her movements and her breath disturbed the air, but Ling Qi was silent, utterly so. The only noise Ling Qi made was a distant, eerie piping. She concentrated, and a twitch of her qi normalized things. “How has my mother been since the attack?” she asked, adjusting her qi flow so that it wouldn’t accidentally happen again.

The woman in front of her startled, but to her credit, Ling Qi was sure a mortal wouldn’t have noticed. “Madame Ling has been anxious, but she is doing well,” the servant answered. “She was greatly reassured by Lady Li’s work.”

Ling Qi hummed thoughtfully. “And you? Are the others handling things well?” She had offered to let any household servant leave, but no one had taken her up on it.

“We are most thankful for your patronage,” the woman replied carefully, keeping her head down.

“I didn’t ask that,” Ling Qi said. She came to a halt. “I asked how you and the others are holding up. I was genuine when I said that any of you could leave.”

The young woman paused, alarmed at the questioning or more accurately, Ling Qi’s attention. Was she really that bad? “It has been trying,” the woman admitted. “But no one wants to go back.”

Ling Qi regarded the young woman with some surprise. The servant was being honest. “You aren’t afraid of the coming conflicts?”

The girl said guiltily, “I am, but it’s still better here, isn’t it? At least we are being protected. You and the other immortals will not let the barbarians through, right?”

“No,” Ling Qi replied. She was uncomfortable with the expectation she saw there. It was one thing to be told she was responsible for people, but it was another to actually feel it. “We won’t lose. You’ll be safe.” It wasn’t a lie. She was sure that no one would let this place, the gateway to the Sect, fall.

“Then there is no reason to talk about going back. The others feel the same. That is, if our service has been satisfactory? Madam Ling has said we have been doing well.” The young woman grew more anxious as she spoke, clutching at her gown.

Ling Qi was quick to reply. “I have no complaints. Please, let’s continue,” she added, gesturing down the hall.

<Moons, it’s a good thing she can’t tell how off kilter you are from a lil respect and expectation. How do you function sometimes?> Sixiang huffed.

<Poorly,> Ling Qi thought dryly, resuming her walk toward the garden. She glanced at the young woman’s back and reminded herself to take the time to memorize some of her household’s names later. It was good to know that her household was staying around because they actually wanted to, even if it was only because Tonghou was worse.

She gave the young woman a nod of acknowledgement as she stepped out onto the porch overlooking the garden. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon so it only took a moment to spot her mother.

Ling Qingge stood by the garden pond dressed in a plain brown gown. She held an unusual pose, one of the stances of the cultivation art Ling Qi had provided her. Ling Qi stood for a moment at the edge of the porch, observing the flow of her mother’s qi, such as it was.

She was doing better. The cracks of age and wear remained on her dantian, but the light of awakening had been kindled inside of it. Growth would still be fraught, but her mother’s cultivation was at least stable. There was no danger of regression. Mother’s attempts at physical cultivation had made some progress, and it seemed like the exercises in the cultivation art were helping.

Ling Qi ghosted down through the banister, landing lightly on the garden path, and then let her next footfall sound normally. Her mother opened her eyes at the sound.

“Ling Qi, I did not expect you so early. Is everything well?” her mother asked, lowering her arms.

“Everything is fine. My cultivation just took less time than expected,” Ling Qi deflected. “I thought I would come a little early. Sorry for interrupting you.”

Her mother looked at her with a frown. Was she really that obvious?

<It’s almost like you’re practicing an art of honesty. Do you really want to fool your mom?> Sixiang whispered.

“Well, that’s not wholly right. I did want to talk,” Ling Qi added before her mother could voice her question. Sixiang was right, of course; there was no value in deflections here.

“Of course,” her mother replied, seeming hesitant. “Did your exercise proceed properly?”

“Yeah,” Ling Qi said with a half smile, moving to take a seat on one of the stone benches in the garden. “Integration went fine. See?” Her domain weapon shimmered into view across her lap, and a pale transparent mist rolled out around them, cloaking the garden. She had spent some time practicing so there were no embarrassing manifestations, but the mist still settled about her mother’s shoulders like a warm winter mantle.

The older woman blinked in surprise, reaching up tentatively to touch it, but the mist parted before her fingers. “I see. I admit I do not quite understand what has changed, but I am glad you succeeded.”

“Thank you.” Ling Qi fingered the wooden grip of the domain blade absently. “But I actually wanted to apologize.”

Carefully, her mother took a seat beside her. Ling Qi could see all the little aches that still plagued her in every movement. “I see.”

Ling Qi smiled to herself. She was glad mother hadn’t tried to appease her or say that there was nothing to apologize for. “I’m sorry for being so dismissive. I’m not going to apologize for my actions, but I am sorry for being so short with you about it.”

“That hardly sets me at ease,” her mother said stubbornly. “I still do not understand why you would do such a thing.”

Ling Qi considered her words. The lessons of the Playful Muse’s Rapport art flitted through her head as she turned to meet her mother’s pleading gaze. “Because I am strong and greedy,” Ling Qi said. “Because I don’t want to lose anything. Because I won’t let fear guide my hands or my feet. I hope you can understand, Mother. I don’t intend to die.”

Ling Qingge closed her eyes. “This is the sort of conversation I would expect to have with a son going to war.”

“I was always pretty bad at being a girl. Sorry, Mom,” Ling Qi said.

“You weren’t,” Ling Qingge disagreed. “You were no more rambunctious and restless than any other child.”

“No need to spare my feelings.” Ling Qi sighed. “I understand—”

“Ling Qi, I was never prepared to be a mother at an age barely older than you are now. My conditions may have left me in a poor state, but that only explains my mistakes. It does not excuse them,” Ling Qingge interrupted sharply. “So do not spare my feelings.”

Ling Qi was silent, and so was her mother. Finally, Ling Qi blew out a breath, sending eddies through the mist. “I guess neither of us know much about what we’re doing, huh?”

“It seems so,” her mother replied. “Ling Qi, I cannot pretend to understand matters of cultivation beyond the most basic. Answer me this. Were you certain that you would survive that knife?”

She had not expected the potency of the poison, but looking back at the moment of decision…

“Yes,” Ling Qi said with conviction.

“Then I must trust your judgement,” her mother said wearily. Ling Qingge was not happy, but she had accepted it. There was nothing else to say.

“How is the household handling the new security?” Ling Qi asked, turning her eyes to the garden.

“As well as can be expected. I have not explained to them the precise nature of the guardians in the basement,” Ling Qingge replied. Probably for the best. “Miss Li explained the upkeep necessary very well.”

“Will you be alright taking care of it?” Ling Qi asked.

Mother looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers thoughtfully. A single pale and guttering spark of qi leaked from her fingertips. “Yes. It is simple enough, if tiring.”

Ling Qi could manage it with no more effort than the time taken to come to the house, but she wasn’t going to take that away from her mother. “Good. Has everyone in the house been acclimating well?”

Her mother gave a surprised look. “Yes. Despite the disturbance, the town’s laws are well enforced and the sect guards are disciplined and do not bother the girls.”

“Just don’t be afraid to come to me if there’s trouble. I can spare the attention,” she said. “Think you can get me a list of names? That’s something else I should be better with.”

“I suppose.” Mother sounded so dubious. She really was that bad, wasn’t she?

<Yep,> Sixiang agreed.

“Well, enough chit-chat,” Ling Qi said with false cheer. “I don’t want to take away from your cultivation, Mother. Why don’t I help you out with your exercises?”

It was well beyond time that she stepped up her aid. She had said that she wanted to help Zhengui and Hanyi keep up, and although her mother would never see violence again if she had her way, there was no reason to slack off. Everyone was better off with more cultivation.

Threads 86-Household 2

It was not a matter of figuring out what exercises her mother could physically handle, Ling Qi thought, but in figuring out what they could do that mother could repeat on her own and not end up getting discouraged.

It made her look back on her time training under Elder Zhou with new eyes. How much thought had he given to their lessons? Although some had dropped out, quite a few even, she didn’t think he was quite as callous toward that result as he had appeared. His lessons seemed to have been carefully calibrated from the beginning to instill good habits in both health and cultivation. Elder Zhou’s lessons were still the bedrock of her physical regime, even now.

Unfortunately, she was not nearly as good a teacher as the late elder.

<Give yourself a little credit. She was able to follow along,> Sixiang whispered. <She’s made some progress, too.>

Ling Qi looked over at her mother out of the corner of her eye and held back a grimace. Mother was red-faced, her breath coming hard as she recovered from the exertion of the last hour. Sixiang was right though. Ling Qi had found a lot of inefficiencies in her mother’s breathing and qi condensation routines. Ling Qingge was still losing a great deal of the qi she attempted to cultivate, but Ling Qi had a feeling that this was unavoidable given the state of her mother’s dantian.

“It gets easier as you go on,” Ling Qi said encouragingly, reaching over to pat her mother on the back. It was only a little awkward. “You did well.”

“Did I?” Ling Qingge asked, her usual composure lost. Her mother’s hair was in disarray, and her forehead was marked by sweat. “I cannot see it.”

“The exercises will strengthen your limbs and more importantly, your heart and lungs. Even if you never awaken to gold physique, these exercises will leave you in better health,” Ling Qi parroted from a lesson long past. “With cultivation, it will do much more.”

<Mm, maybe not the best use of the teacher talk,> Sixiang muttered.

Ling Qi sighed, thinking back to the misery that had followed her lessons the first week she was here. Would she really have been able to push through that without the desperation driving her?

“I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but I promise, you’ll feel better if you keep at it. You’ve already made some progress. If you just do a little more each day, I think you’ll break through by the end of the year.” Having observed her mother’s rate of progress and the improvements she had made through some better practices, she was sure Ling Qingge could do it. So Ling Qi spoke with confidence, willing her mother to take belief from her.

Ling Qingge’s breathing was easing up, and the older woman soon straightened her shoulders. “I suppose I should work to be a good example,” she said.

“Do it for yourself, too,” Ling Qi said. “Mother, I really can’t put into words how even the most meagre cultivation improves your life.”

“Very well,” her mother said with a huff of quiet laughter. “I will see how my schedule might be rearranged. But first, a bath, I think.”

Ling Qi wrinkled her nose and glanced at the patches of sweat on her mother’s exercising gown. That was another problem cultivation would take care of. “Fair enough. Why don’t I go see Biyu while you do that?”

“Please do,” her mother said, standing and grimacing. “She behaves much better at meals with family about.”

Ling Qi laughed, resting a steadying hand on her mother’s shoulder. She could do that much.

***

To their credit, their household did their best, but Biyu was a very restless young girl. It was also probably at least a little bit Ling Qi’s fault, she admitted to herself. Her domain, even in its dormant state, spread all around. It had been helpful for getting Mother through her exercises, but it was also contributing to Biyu’s energy.

“Listen to the nanny, and eat your breakfast. Then you can go play,” Ling Qi explained, calmly crouching in the doorway Biyu had been making an escape for when she had entered.

“Already did,” Biyu huffed unhappily, scuffing her foot against the floor. “Not hungry.”

Ling Qi glanced up at the frustrated older woman standing by the table and the bowl of rice porridge still sitting mostly untouched on the table. “You didn’t eat it all. You’ll just complain about being hungry later if you don’t finish now.” Biyu’s nanny was doing a good job of concealing her frustration and tension, but Ling Qi had a feeling that Biyu had woken up buzzing with energy.

“Sis-y doesn’t eat,” Biyu retorted.

“That’s because Sis-y is magic,” Ling Qi replied, poking her little sister playfully. “Biyu has to eat and grow up before she can be magic too.”

The little girl giggled and swatted her hand away. However, there was still a mutinous gleam in her eyes. So Ling Qi played her trump card.

“If you go back and eat, I’ll stay and eat too.” She was going to do the first part anyway, but she didn’t need to say that.

Biyu’s resistance crumbled. “Kay!” she said brightly, toddling back to the table.

She stood up, and Biyu’s nanny bowed her head. “Thank you, Lady Ling. What should I get you from the kitchens?”

“Just some sliced fruit,” Ling Qi said. She didn’t actually need it since she had eaten a good meal last week, but it was nice to eat just for the flavor. “And thank you for your work. I know Biyu can be a handful.”

The older woman bowed even lower. “Lady Ling’s praise is unnecessary, but I am honored all the same.” She was better at hiding her nerves than the younger girls. She seemed a little more trained in etiquette than they did, too. Briefly, Ling Qi wondered what her story was, but she could ask Mother later when she got the names.

Gliding over to the table, she took a seat beside Biyu with a smile and listened to the young girl babble happily about what she had been up to for the past few days. It was a little melancholic, she had to admit. Biyu was three years old and would be four this winter, and she was just… carefree and happy. Perhaps even more than Mother’s recovering health, it reminded Ling Qi that she had accomplished something beside her own empowerment.

As Biyu described to her with childish awe a big fuzzy dog she had seen at the market the other day, Ling Qi let her senses expand a little. She sensed Biyu’s nanny emerging from the kitchen with a plate of freshly cut apple slices and the girl in the kitchen doing the dishes. She sensed her mother upstairs in the bath, letting the hot water soak away the pain of sore muscles. She sensed the girl sweeping the front path and the girls now filtering out to care for the garden, and the ones upstairs, seeing to the cleaning.

Some were stressed or tired. Some were bored and lost in thought. None of them were starving though, and none of them were miserable or afraid. She couldn’t take all the credit of course, but this was something that was only possible because of her growth and cultivation. It was only possible thanks to the path she had chosen to walk.

“Sis-y?” her attention snapped back fully to Biyu, and she reviewed the last thing her little sister had said.

“Some of the disciples do have dogs. I’ve even seen one big enough for a grown-up to ride. He was really fluffy too,” Ling Qi explained with a smile. While Zhengui was infinitely better, she could understand the appeal.

Biyu’s eyes were wide, and she didn’t seem to notice the smear of rice porridge on cheek where the spoon had missed. “I wanna see!”

“Maybe someday,” Ling Qi hedged. She wasn’t intending to bring her sister to a Luo gathering anytime soon. “Do you really like dogs, Biyu?”

“Mmhmm,” her little sister confirmed through a mouthful of porridge. “Puppies are nice!”

That wasn’t exactly Ling Qi’s experience with dogs considering their prevalence as house guards, but Biyu obviously had a different experience. There was the seed of an idea there. The Luo bred dogs aside from their family line. Perhaps a puppy would make a nice present for a future birthday. She’d have to run it by her mother first.

Absently, she accepted the plate of fruit slices from Biyu’s nanny and took a bite, enjoying the crisp flavor. She nodded a thanks to the woman, who returned it with a bow and retreated to the wall of the room, leaving Biyu to her.

On the matter of birthdays, Biyu’s was coming up soon. While four wasn’t an important birthday, it still warranted a present. It was too soon for a puppy, but surely, there was something she could give.

She thought about it.

She thought about it more.

It turned out, Ling Qi thought, that she was terrible at thinking of presents.

<That’s a little harsh.> Sixiang thought to her. <You’re probably better off with something simple. You’re short on time as it is.>

So something simple and fit for an energetic young girl then…

<You know you wanna. Besides, it’d give an excuse to introduce me to the lil sprout, and we both know how great I am.> Sixiang laughed.

Dance instruction would probably go a long way toward tiring Biyu out, Ling Qi thought. She had seen dancers performing at the noble parties she had attended last year, so something like that wouldn’t even raise too many eyebrows. Besides, Biyu was a much more normal girl than her, and little girls appreciated pretty things, right? A pair of dance shoes would make a nice present. She could even invest a stone or two to make them adjustable, so Biyu wouldn’t outgrow them right away.

Biyu had continued chattering away while she had been thinking, not noticing her distraction. Not that Ling Qi had shown it. It was surprisingly easy to split her attention and answer her little sister’s endless stream of questions about birds and flowers and garden fish while simultaneously debating with Sixiang on the pros and cons of gifts.

It was even possible to do both and still keep track of everyone in the house. So, Ling Qi was not surprised when Ling Qingge entered the dining room, her hair still faintly damp from the bath.

“Momma! Morning! Sis-y is here!” Biyu announced happily, seeing their mother.

“She is,” Ling Qingge agreed, taking in Biyu’s empty bowl, the nanny standing quietly by the wall, and Ling Qi’s own plate with one slice of apple left at a glance. “Good morning, Biyu.”

Ling Qi dipped her head toward her mother, savoring the crisp flavor of the last slice of fruit. “Feeling better, Mother?”

“I am,” Ling Qingge agreed, taking a seat at the table. She gave Biyu’s nanny a thankful nod, and the other woman offered a bow and quietly sidled out of the room. “My recovery was surprisingly quick.”

“And just think, you’re only getting started,” Ling Qi said with a smile. “Ah, what are your plans for today? I have some extra time, but I also don’t want to be a bother.”

Her mother gave her a curious look as she reached out to begin carefully cleaning Biyu up. The little girl squirmed under her attention but didn’t complain aloud. “It is a market day. I had intended to show my face there, along with Biyu.”

“Candy!” Biyu agreed.

“If you behave yourself,” Ling Qingge chided.

Ling Qi nodded in understanding. Becoming a part of the community was important for her mother, who obviously didn’t want to isolate herself in the house. “Why don’t I go along today then?”

Ling Qingge gave her a surprised look. She seemed hesitant but didn’t look like she wanted to voice her concerns. For a moment, Ling Qi didn’t understand.

<I get it.> Sixiang chuckled.

Ling Qi winced. She really did… stand out. “Don’t worry, Mother. I like to relax at home, but I can restrain myself.”

“No, I did not mean to imply—” her mother began, but Ling Qi waved her off.

Ling Qi took a single deep breath and took hold of herself, dispersing the thick, invisible manifestation of her aura. The room immediately grew a touch brighter and a touch warmer. The faint twinkling light in her hair went out, and the music that followed her at the edge of hearing went silent.

Biyu was the first to respond, staring at Ling Qi with wide eyes. “Sis-y is different. Why?”

Ling Qingge merely looked at her in surprise. “Well, if it doesn’t trouble you, that is fine. Just allow me to get a bite to eat before we set out.”

It was uncomfortable, but she could manage. Honestly, having thought about it, she was curious to see her mother interact with the other people of the town.

Table of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Threads of Destiny-Prologue
Threads Chapter 1-New Settings
Threads Chapter 2
Bonus: The Great Diviner
Threads Chapter 3
Threads Chapter 4
Threads Chapter 5
Threads Chapter 6
Threads Chapter 7-The Bloody Dream 1
Threads Chapter 8
Threads Chapter 9
Threads Chapter 10
Threads 11- Sect Challenges 1
Threads 12
Threads 13
Threads 14
Bonus: Xiangmen, the Heavenly Pillar
Threads 15
Threads 16
Threads 17
Threads 18
Threads 19-Dreams 1
Threads 20
Threads 21-Duels 1
Threads 22-Duels 2
Threads 23-Winter's Muse
Threads 24 Winter's Muse 2
Threads 25 Winters Muse 3
Threads 26 Winters Muse 4
Threads 27 Siblings 1
Threads 28 Siblings 2
Threads 29-Siblings 3
Interlude: The Cobbler and the Viper
Bonus: Macabre
Threads 30 Adventures 1
Threads 31-Adventures 2
Threads 32-Adventure 3
Threads 33-Peers 1
Threads 34 Peers 2
Threads 35 Peers 3
Bonus: Snake and Spider 1
Threads 36 Three Moons 1
Threads 37 Three Moons 2
Threads 38 Three Moons 3
Chapter 39-Three Moons 4
Threads 40-Justice 1
Threads 41 Justice 2
Bonus: Characters of Destiny
Threads 42-Justice 3
Threads 43 Justice 4
Threads 44 Death 1
Bonus: Handmaiden
Threads 45-Death 2
Threads 46 Signs 1
Threads 47 Signs 2
Threads 48-Signs 3
Threads 49-Perspectives
Threads 50-Downtime 1
Bonus: The Sky that Fell
Threads 51-Downtime 2
Threads 52-Downtime 3
Threads 53-Downtime 4
Bonus: Character Sheet
Threads 54-Nobility
Threads 55 Nobility 2
Threads 56-Nobility 3
Threads Chapter 57-Bao Qian 1
Threads 58-Bao Qian 2
Threads 59-Bao Qian 3
Threads 60-Bao Qian 4
Interlude: Outer Sect
Threads 61-Dressmaker 1
Threads 62 Dressmaker 2
Threads 63-Dressmaker 3
Threads 64-Foreshock 1
Bonus: Snake and Spider 2
Threads 65-Foreshock 2
Threads 66-Foreshock 3
67-Foreshock 4
Bonus: Outer Sect Tremors
Threads 68-Foreshock 5
Threads 69: Foreshock 6
Chapter 70: Foreshock 7
Threads 71- Epilogue-War
Threads 72-Interlude-Shockwaves
Threads Interlude Rivers and Rain
threads 73-Normalcy 1
Threads 74-Normalcy 2
Threads 75-Normalcy 3
Threads 76-Normalcy 4
Chapter 77-Normalcy 5
Threads 78-Normalcy 6
Chapter 79-Muse 1
Threads 80-Muse 2
Interlude: Dance
Threads 81-Parting 1
Threads 82-Parting 2
Threads 83-Integration 1
Threads 84-Integration 2
Threads 85-Household 1
Threads 86-Household 2