It is said that Qi is the fundamental building block of the world. The basest unit of creation, whereupon all is made and all is returned to. It's variations infinite, manifold, mysteries impenetrable and open simultaneously. However, what it is not - as many scholars have similarly postulated and "proven" - is sapient. Qi is a building block; it has no will of it's own to speak of. All the better for us, truly, how else would we be able to form the necessary Pillars to ascend further up the ranks of Cultivation were we all merely the extensions of a singular ur-soul, controlling us all in some vast and incomprehensibly complex puppet-show?
Thus, in the absence of a will of it's own, why does Qi move? Take shape? Form?
Though we debate endlessly on the source of this guidance, it's instrument is indisputable - for at the very most base is formless motion, the force that causes all things to move. The emanations which gather and mold Qi, fit it to purpose and intent. All a unique frequency, on a scale beyond the measurement of any Cultivator yet known, for surely one who has achieved a Demonic Tune that resonates with the very Qi of the universe is one who can sing the song that shakes the Heavens themselves! And this humble scholar believes that such a change would not go unnoticed!
But still, the climb up Mt. Tai begins with a single step! And thus, this humble scholar has endeavored to create a method by which one can sense the vibrations which shape the Qi of our world, and shape them to further their cultivation as a Demonic Tunes wielder! My completed prototype, though lacking in potency beyond the Qi Condensation Stage, is this simple Zhuge, made in the old style it carries two frequencies to interact with. The first note to gather qi, and the second to refine it for consumption by it's user!
Running off principles based off of observations of Tribulation Lightning and the emanations released into a Cultivators body...
"So it's a Cultivation Aid, huh?" Aretaphila Myia mused, glancing up from the scroll that had been set besides the bronze bell and mallet in the chamber. Forged of bronze fish scales, the Zhong of Deep Waters shined with an unexpected sheen - the patina that covered it closer in pigmentation to the tanned bronze of her own skin - displaying the high level of craftsmanship that had gone into it. She winced, clutching the wound in her side threatening to loosen her grip on her own cultivation even as she struggled to heal from the damage dealt by Unfelt Passing Wind.
At the very least, this chamber was hidden beneath stone and water. Something which the Bandit was unlikely to find her through easily.
"Still," The young cultivator mused, if only to drive away the quiet of isolation, "I kinda hoped for something more down here." It was a treasure, of that there was no doubt. But it begged the question of
why something like this was hidden in so innocuous a place. Perhaps the "mere scholar" who had made it had hoped that the Temple - as a place that easily raised Qi Condensation Cultivators almost en masse - would eventually produce someone capable of taking the treasure and making the most use of it? From the sound of things it
had been the lesser work. A limited proof of concept.
It made her wonder where the later works were. If there were even any in the first place? Where did the craftsman come from? Were they a wandering Cultivator of the Blacksmith Sects? An associate of the ones who had constructed this temple in the first place?
Or perhaps in front of her was the proof of concept of what would later become the nightmare of every member of the Myia Clan?
Cautiously, Aretaphila reached out to lift the bell, wincing as she took the weight in her hands. A vague cylinder, in the fashion of those outside of the Golden Devils, but where it differed from most was that rather than having a clapper in the manner she was familiar with, it instead had two notes etched into the outer shell of it. One on the Crown, and another at the height of the Waist.
She set it down, and with another grunt of pain and effort, gripped the mallet that accompanied the bell, and contemplated the treasure for a moment, before considering the scrolls notes on it producing two different sounds.
Aretaphila had never
heard of a bell producing two entirely different kinds of notes before.
She swung the mallet.
---
It bears mentioning, but the Clear Summer's Bell Physique is a mutation of the Blood of Bronze, developed over the course of the Sea Conquering Army's campaign, born of introducing the blood of the local inhabitants of the Turtle Sea into the Clan. In exchange for the prodigious physicality and potential of the Blood of Gold that could be reached by the paragons of the Clan, the Clear Summer's Bell was a peerless tuner of sound.
But this process was difficult, for though the Myia carried the Mark of Bronze, their own Physique took different forms, and as a result lacked the incredible regenerative powers for which most of the Golden Devil Clan were known.
Casting was the process of awakening the Physique, the mold of mortality being shaken off as the Myia awakens as a Cultivator proper. Yet, just like any bell, though the form is made it is not yet refined. Not yet tuned. And though the physique is awakened and benefits are already present, the Casting stage of the Clear Summer's Bell physique is also its most fragile, easily cracked and terrifyingly brittle.
And oh so hard to repair.
Especially when the Myia in question lacks healing Arts or healing treasures with which to recover from the wound. Injuries dealt by a Foundation Establishment Cultivator are not things easily fixed by recovery pills intended for those still progressing through the Heavenstages. Thus, between the pain of her wounds, the persistence of the Qi that acts upon them, and the strain of absorbing the lessons of the Zhong of Deep Waters, Aretaphila cultivates deep beneath the earth, striking her bell, and desperately pushing back against the Qi of Unfelt Passing Wind, the boon of her surroundings only serving as enough to maintain a fragile equilibrium.
Unknowing of time passing, Aretaphila strikes the bell.
The Qi is gathered.
She strikes the bell.
The Qi is refined, shaken into purer form within the Zhong itself.
And the third ring, one rougher and more muted, as the young girl takes the Qi within herself.
Time passes, uncountable and unknowable, and what was once a fragile equilibrium
shifts. The third note begins to clear up. It begins to synchronize with the first two, and form a steady rhythm that is not quite a song.
The equilibrium breaks, and on every third ring the Qi of Unfelt Passing Wind is drawn out of Aretaphila's wound, refined, and then taken back in to further the process.
"So, that's where you were."
---
To the layman, Wind and Sound are deeply intertwined. After all, was not the Wind that which carried Sound from place to place? Of course, at higher levels of cultivation, this became less and less true, as Sound and Song were expressions of one's own Soul, and any one of the Five Elements could serve as a medium to conduct Demonic Tunes. One of the many mysteries of the world, there were many who considered it to be a simple function of Qi. A unique expression of strength in it's niche, much like the Dao of the Sword was inevitably the greatest at single combat - as befitting the Emperor of Weapons.
Unfelt Passing Wind had not been pleased to see that his precious meal ticket had disappeared, not after he had taken great pains to identify the leader of her merry little band. So much for negotiation in good faith! Truly, the insurance of a surreptitious stab wound perilously close to the lower dantian had been the correct move!
What he had not anticipated, however, was that the blood trail of the Golden Devil Girl would vanish so quickly and easily. Even the bloodstained cables that she had left behind were nearly clean when Unfelt Passing Wind had come back to find them, the life fluid drying and flaking away into dust far too quickly to be natural. It had lead him on another harrowing chase through the Temple, playing cat and mouse with the Golden Devils who remained, seeking him and his little wayward hostage out, but the days passed, eventually becoming a month, and their Foundation Establishment leader eventually took his remaining two minions out with him.
It was then, as he waited alone within his meditation chamber, that he heard it:
Carried on the wind was a faint ringing. A three-note beat, repeating endlessly. And as Unfelt Passing Wind listened, gradually, he noticed something about it. That third note was shifting, ever so gradually. Growing stronger. Growing clearer. That was when his memory was jogged. A rumor, perhaps. A standing bounty by the Demonic Tuner Sects and the Sorrowful Blacksmiths; among the Golden Devil Clan are a special type of physique, one ideally suited for the crafting of treasures with which to channel and amplify Demonic Tunes.
The Clear Summer's Bell Constitution.
Prized for their rarity and their potency as material, the rumor said that one had not been acquired from the Golden Devil Clan in over a century, and there were many Demonic Tuners who sought out an instrument forged from their perfectly tuned bodies. With such wealth in hand, why, Unfelt Passing Wind wouldn't
need to deal with the Golden Devils! He'd be set for life! What great fortune, to be rid of the millstones that were his underlings and provided with a way to finance the lifestyle that a great
de jure Noble such as he deserved!
The wind guided him deep. Deeper into the temple than he went to. The three beat tune continued to carry, the third note growing ever stronger, even as the bandit crossed that short distance into that hidden grotto beneath the desert. From there it was simplicity itself to find out where the sounds were coming from.
A tiny aired hole, nestled within the stone.
Unfelt Passing Wind's form dissolved into wind, carried on a conjured breeze into that Spirit Stone lined chamber where a young girl meditated, tapping an ancient bronze hammer twice before breathing in and out, all three notes finally clear and beautiful.
"So, that's where you were." The bandit says to his meal ticket, "Awfully rude of you to break your word like that."
The girl's eyes snap open, and for a single instant there is a tremble of fear before it gets covered by a false bravado, "I thought you were going to bring me to my commander?" One of her eyes closes, the remaining pupil looking him in the eye cockily, "You just took so long that I figured it'd be faster if I looked for him myself."
"Heh, that's a good point." The oversized turban shifted on the bandits head as he shook it with regretful expression, "Unfortunately, because I had to spend time looking for you, your Commander apparently wrote you off and left! So much for being able to negotiate,
I guess." He smiled at her, taking satisfaction in the cracking of her façade, the girl's expression trembling ever so slightly in that
great way stupid people did right before you stuck a knife in 'em, that look of fearful disbelief was just
the best!
Immaculate white leather slippers stepped forward on the polished stone, making no sound as the wind let none pass through it. Unfelt Passing Wind always did enjoy himself a little showmanship when going for the kill, so to speak! You can't just
off someone! If you're gonna ever be more than a two-bit bandit, you gotta have some
pop! Some
personality! Let the audience know just who it is they're dealing with, even if the audience is one person that won't be around for long enough to really appreciate it!
"Now Little Miss, I was so
disroot," The little girl winced for some reason, "To find out that your Golden Devil fellows were so uninterested in your well being, it made me realize that I couldn't negotiate with them, and so I was about to call the whole thing a wash." In an instant, Unfelt Passing Wind crossed the distance, snatching up the little mallet she'd been using on the bronze bell, "But then, imagine my shock when I heard a little..." He taps the bell, sending out a wharbled sound, "
Ring." And there's the wince! That moment when they put together 'oh yes, I am indeed about to die to this fashionable man in front of me, alas!'
The bandit takes a moment to drink in the expression, "And then I remembered this rumor
about a specific bounty for a specific type of Golden Devil." He bends down, looking the short little girl in the eye, pressing the mallet back into her hand as gently as you please, "And you see, Young Miss, you
just so happen to match the description."
Unfelt Passing Wind flares his
Qi then, the full strength of an Early Foundation Building Cultivator.
"I can't exactly do the easy way, Little Miss." The robes on his right side fall limp, the arm there dissolving into gaseous wind that he controlled as easily as a more solid limb, "So I'll be taking that body of yours in the best condition!"
But the little girl still has some fire in her! "That's not happening!" The Golden Devil Girl breathes deeply, not even wincing, and Unfelt Passing Wind smirks while running his Qi through his ear meridians. Demonic Tune Cultivators can't do a thing when their Techniques couldn't travel through your ears properly! The unearthly note that messed up so many of the bandit's henchmen carries through the air, easily ignored by the strength of his cultivation!
The note is joined by a second one, and then a third, the attack abating as the girl taps the bell in her hands before taking another breath.
"Done yet, Little Miss?" Unfelt Passing Wind asks, relishing in the feeling of
superiority.
She breathes in, and he decides he's played around enough. The gaseous limb seeps into the girl's open mouth, intent to strangle her so as to leave the body as undamaged as possible.
This proves to be a mistake.
---
Aretaphila looks on, panting heavily as Unfelt Passing Wind collapses to the stone floor, his body jerking wildly as dark stains of impurity ruin his pristine white clothes, the oversized turban crumbled and ruined by the convulsions the bandit is undergoing, his right arm still dissipated. The air is a good conductor of sound, though not as good as water.
But if the air just so happens to be filled with the exact same Qi Aretaphila had spent the past few days learning to chip away at and refine with her own Qi enhanced by her physique and the Zhong of Deep Waters? Well, it proved sufficient to transmit the Brown Note directly into the Meridians of the Bandit Cultivator before her. And unlike properly trained Cultivators like those who were in the Clan or at least one of the major powers of the Desert, the foundation and cultivation of Unfelt Passing Wind was amateurish and incomplete at best. His Meridians were heavily clogged with impurity, and his physique was in no condition to shake off the effects of her technique.
For a moment, Aretaphila looked on silently as the bandit convulsed, his throat seemingly choking on itself, but as far as she could tell that for all the agony that the man was experiencing he would not die from just this.
But he wouldn't be able to chase her either.
With a sigh, Aretaphila grabbed her treasures and returned to the entrance to the chamber, securing the scroll within her clothes, and hoping that it was sufficiently waterproof.
It would be a long journey back to the Clan Hall to report back in. At least it would give her time to finish reading the scroll to investigate more into how to refine her Cultivation.
A.N.: Wew, that took longer than I expected. But now Aretaphila has finally concluded her Turn 1 Storyline! After a full month! There ya go, @occipitallobe . Please let this get added on to Aretaphila's Fate Bonus!
