Threads Of Destiny(Eastern Fantasy, Sequel to Forge of Destiny)

Future Days: Festivities at an Old Garden.

Droplets of water hung suspended in the air around Zeng Yazhu. Their only movement was in time with her breath, each inhalation bringing them closer, and each exhalation flinging them into the distance. Through them she could feel everything around her. From her clean shaven head, to the unstrung bow across her lap, to the blades of grass at her feet, to the slow ponderous march of a bear far away. Everywhere the rain should fall, instead she felt.

One Thousand Drops of Rain was one of her most powerful arts. Such an art had its drawbacks of course, but color and sound were unimportant to someone of her skills. Still as satisfying as tapping into heaven's energy to bring death to that bear would be, it wouldn't help her with her goal. Now that the exhilaration of finally reaching the inner sect had faded, Zeng Yazhu knew that she needed to find new sites to cultivate from.

So here she sat, meditating in a stilled storm, searching for a clue. Qi was difficult for this art to detect, but possible, like picking out the right tea for a dish. Possible, if only just. Despite its drawbacks this art allowed her to search a much larger area than she otherwise could. Zeng Yazhu would just have to work through the hardships and with each breath she took, Zeng Yazhu pushed her storm a little further out, searching.

Minutes turned into hours, day into evening, and just when Zeng Yazhu had reached the limits of her ability, she felt something. An old, overgrown path. It was very little to go off, but old paths led to old places, and she had nothing else to show for today's efforts, except bear dens. Best take her chances. With a final breath the frozen storm resumed its natural course, but Zeng Yazhu ignored her now soaked acolyte robes and stepped onto a bolt of heaven's energy. There was a thunderless flash of lightning and Zeng Yazhu was gone.

Her luck held, the old path did lead somewhere, a small hill shrouded in mist. A crown of pale trees swayed at the top and muted by the fog, but still clear, was the sound of bubbling water, and given the weight of water and fire qi Zeng Yazhu had a good guess that there was a hot spring on this hill. If she could find the locus all the qi was coming from she would be set for sometime. Fire qi wasn't useful and there was a strange third qi Zeng Yazhu couldn't identify, but this was quite a find.

Two crumbling statues were the clear entrance point. Perhaps they had been turtles, or lions, or even dragons but whatever they had been was now a pile of weathered stone. If there had been a wall to enforce the entrance it was long gone, having disappeared under grasping vines and roots. It may never have even existed in the first place, so Zeng Yazhu shrugged, ignored the gate, and walked straight up the hill. Judging by the flows of qi the locus would be near the top, and the fastest way there was a straight line. There should be no problems.

The first problem arose very quickly. Each step on this hill felt the same, there was no sense of verticality, of one foot being higher than the other. For all her feet could tell they were walking across a single pane of glass. It was disorientating and frustrating, the mist closed in with each step making it impossible to tell directions. It wouldn't have surprised Zeng Yazhu in the least if she had made a misstep somewhere on this hill and overshot the top completely, but to end up before those same crumbled statues again? That gave her pause. What was happening here?

Again Zeng Yazhu stepped onto the hill and again the mist closed in, suffocating her ability to tell directions. Again when the mist parted she stood before the same statues. They were plain stone and as she ran her fingers over the cold weathered rock she couldn't feel any formations. Traps were far outside her wheelhouse, but nothing screamed danger at her as she stared at the hill. With far more cautious steps Zeng Yazhu stepped through the statues, and when nothing happened she started walking up the hill.

Minutes later the mist parted again and Zeng Yazhu glared at the hill. One step, one step off that overgrown barely visible gravel path and the mist rushed back in like a spring flooding. So, not only did she have to enter through this gate but she had to stay on the path as well? Fine. If it was a trial that this hill was giving, then Zeng Yazhu was going to give it a trial. Cracking her knuckles, Zeng Yazhu stepped forward and thunderless lightning flashed.

This time when the stone gate appeared Zeng Yazhu just collapsed onto the grass. Had she stepped off the path? She didn't think so, but she was moving so fast she wasn't sure. Blitzing along the path had been a very frustrating experience. The path looped and wound aimlessly around the hill. Several times Zeng Yazhu had seen where the path would lead, but hadn't risked just jumping across the gap. That might be considered leaving the path. Honestly this hill reminded her of a garden with how much the path wandered.

Wait. A garden. Zeng Yazhu sat up, ignoring the dull ache in her calves and feet, and stared at the hill. A garden. This hill was a garden, and the point of a garden was to enjoy it, wasn't it? Was this a timed trial, but instead of trying to go fast you had to go slow? What would even be the point of that? Still, it was her best thought for beating this eyesore of a hill. So with a groan, Zeng Yazhu stood up and walked through the statues one more time.

It was working, Zeng Yazhu thought as she crouched down and studied a statue on the path. This one she was fairly sure was a turtle. Moss had grown over it, near completely covering it, and it had a strange addition to its shell, but it was a turtle. After counting to ten Zeng Yazhu stood up, then she held her breath. No mist creeped towards her. It seemed content to gather and whirl under the shade of the trees where white and black flowers bloomed. Once she was confident that everything was still normal, Zeng Yazhu continued walking forward.

Statue by statue Zeng Yazhu worked her way through the garden, statue by statue the mist got lighter revealing more and more. Many of the flower beds were overgrown, and there were gaps in the tree lines created by storms, but it was clear the beauty that once was here. Even abandoned the flowers kept their brilliant colors and the overgrown path wound its way through each and every bed. Minute by minute Zeng Yazhu worked her way through. She was actually coming to enjoy this walk. Bright colors were appearing more and more and she felt her frustration bleeding away. Then the path opened up into a clearing.

Shielded on two sides by craggy boulders was a bubbling pool. Water popped and hissed, the air was thick with qi: water, fire, and that third unknown qi. Placed in the pool were a series of statues, most were destroyed, eroded away by the constant movement of water, but one remained distinct. Looming over her was a turtle. Moss had grown into its shell and one leg had crumbled away, creating a flat moss covered stone in the middle of the pond. With a single leap and a flex of qi Zeng Yazhu jumped across the water and settled into a lotus position on the rock.

From her spot Zeng Yazhu could see the entire clearing, and much of the garden, all the way to the front statues. It was deep into the night by now and only the light of the waning gibbous and the stars allowed Zeng Yazhu to see. She could only guess at what the trial here was supposed to teach, but whatever it was she didn't learn it. Most of her frustration had bled out over the hike and the last embers of it died out as she breathed deep and began to cultivate, relishing in at last finding a new site to use, of the new future that awaited her in the inner sect.

As she closed her eyes there was a spark, or a ripple, and the third unknown qi surged.

Her eyes snapped open, ready for anything.

She wasn't ready for a festival to come to life in the clearing. Spectral lanterns hung from branches, each one casting a different hue of light. Mist rose ankle high across the clearing. People clothed in luminescent clothing danced through the mist, their faces shifting like masks, flickering between a thousand and one forms. Around the edges of the clearing smaller phantoms ran, children playing children's games. Joy and hope suffused the air, ebbing and surging in time to some vast ponderous drumbeat that shook Zeng Yazhu's heart. In the bubbling pond paper lanterns floated, sending sweet smoke into a twinkling sky. All at once hundreds of different conversations poured like spilt wine into her head. Each was thick and cloying and demanded all of her attention. Zeng Yazhu groaned under the increasing pressure behind her eyes, and then she remembered nothing else.

Waking up hadn't hurt this much since Grandma had died, Zeng Yazhu thought. Where was she? There had been that hill with the garden, then, then… She bolted upward, pushing against the warm stone beneath her. All around her was the unkempt overgrown garden. No sign remained of the festival. Reaching out her senses she felt the qi around her. It was smooth and even, like nothing had happened. Reaching up with both hands, Zeng Yazhu massaged her temples. Fragments of conversation raged in her skull, ranging from advice on etiquette given to a child, to a pair of grandmothers complaining about how rude everyone was.

She shook her head and started walking down from the mountain. These fragments reminded her of the shadow memories that cleaning the lower tournament rooms gave her, but much stronger. It would be some time before all these emotions and foreign thoughts could be properly assimilated . Maybe she should visit Tai Chou and see if he could whip up an elixir to help, this headache was killing her.

As Zeng Yazhu walked away from the hill the mist crept back, covering it once more, and once more it waited for someone to come and enjoy the festivities.


A.N
Another omake @yrsillar
This one was inspired by the thoughts of someone finding this garden after Ling Qi and Zhengui are long gone. Thank you for reading it!