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

[yrsillar]

"Hah, you must be so disappointed to be missing the fun!" Zheng Nan laughed. His arms and legs were a blur, as he jogged beside the carriage, keeping up with the trotting horses with no sign of strain.

"It is quite vexing," Gu Xiulan said absently, studying the raggedly dressed young man. The Zheng truly were unrefined, it was difficult to square his vagabonds garb with his status as a scion of a venerable clan. Well appointed in other ways though.

"Get some oil on him and I'll be the match," Linhuo laughed.

Xiulan huffed, how had her spirit developed such a filthy mind. "What are the Zheng's thoughts on those matters?" She asked idly. Captain Yun had been reluctant to let him join their little caravan. The Zheng's reputation with young lords and ladies were legend for a reason after all. However, he bore a scroll with the official seal of the Zheng's leading council addressed to her Father and Grandfather. Refusal would have been far too rude.

However, she was to remain in the carriage, and he outside it. He had taken this restriction with laughter, and promptly asked Captain Yun if his tent was also off limits. Gu Xiulan had never seen the old officer so mortified. Of course, throughout the following day, she had seen Zheng Nan proposition half of the troops, men and women alike. She supposed he was just playing around, using his clan's reputation to deflect scrutiny.

"According to my Master, the grannies are grumbling a bit," The red haired young man replied easily, bounding along without a care. "Wondering if that new duchess will put on a real show."

"No worries about these new underground beasts?" Xiulan asked idly, peering ahead. The scrub and marginal lands of the western border were giving way to golden sand at this point, with only unnatural patches of green here and there marking the little holdings and farms.

Zheng Nan laughed boisterously. "Ancestor Zhi and the Reveler broke the cave demons over their knees an age ago. If they want a scrap, they'll find us ready for it. They're a cowardly lot though. Can't imagine what could have got them so stirred up."

"How very flippant," Gu Xiulan drawled, resting her cheek in her hand. "Does the prospect of war excite you so?"

"Perhaps it does," The young man replied, a flash of something sharp in his good natured smile. "Things have been a little rough this past millennia, and we Zheng keep finding ourselves left out. Are you telling me, with that arm of yours, that your blood doesn't boil at the notion?"

Gu Xiulan shot him a sharp look. "We of the Golden Fields have had quite enough of ruin," she replied. It was the proper thing to say.

He let out a hearty guffaw, bounding over a road totem and landing in a spray of sand. "As you say Miss Gu, but I have to say, you were a much more entrancing sight with the heavens power coursing through your veins."

She scoffed. "Spare me your idle compliments, cad of Zheng, I am not so naive as all of that."

"A cad I might be, but a Zheng does not lie," He laughed. "You dwellers of field and valley are just too wrapped up in your games to sup properly from the wine of life."

"You should try to have more fun," Linhuo whispered. "Isn't that why you drank the lightning? So you could be strong and unrestrained?"

"You know, you never did give a straight answer," Xiulan said irritably, ignoring her spirit. "What interest do the Zheng clan have in the people of Gu?"

"I already told you, my message is for your Father and Grandfather's ears," Zheng Nan replied, amused. "My Master was quite clear on that, when he gave it to my bond siblings and I to deliver."

Which meant the Gu clan were not the only ones the Zheng were sending messages here. What plot could be afoot in the land of Ebon Rivers.

"But," she glanced his way as he spoke up. "A simple fellow though I might be… I imagine that those grannies are getting a little tired of the world moving along without our say you know? Things these days are getting a bit lax aren't they?" he commented breezily.

"I am not certain what you mean," Gu Xiulan replied carefully.

"Heh, just that it's a real shame that clans like the Gu have been so troubled. We mighta scrapped with your featherbrained forebears, but you're still a peer, ya know?" Zheng Nan replied, still smiling, but something about that wide grin spoke more of threat than joy. "Though the Guo are good lads of course. Earned their spot with blood and sweat, and do things in the proper ways, as far as you lowlanders can manage. Got a sister going out that way too."

Gu Xiulan swallowed, put off by the sudden seriousness of his tone and the implications of his words. "...I appreciate the regard of such a storied clan. I am sure my Father will receive you with great honor."

"Hah! I'm sure he will," Zheng Nan said brightly. "I'm looking forward to getting a taste of those storied Gu roasts. And maybe finding someone less uptight to chat up!"

Gu Xiulan smiled tightly. "Yes, perhaps so. Regardless, please excuse me, Sir Zheng."

Xiulan drew the curtain shut as he nodded an absent dismissal, turning his eyes to a returning outrider. She leaned back into her padded seat, clasping the pendant hanging from her neck in her hand. The flows of Ling Qi's energy were like a cool balm on her hand. She wondered at the true implications of the Zheng's words. She was no master of imperial politics, not like Mother, but, all the same, it felt as if she had just learned something important. Between the appearance of the Duchess at the tournament and her declaration of alliance with the Bai, this barbarian war, and now the movements of the Zheng…

Just what was happening in the Empire of late?

And what was this excitement she felt?

AN: Another piece from the commission backlog. Hope it can tide you over while I get the next arc set up.

 

[yrsillar]

Han Fang's hammer swung and thunder boomed.

In response, the wind screamed.

Sand and grit stung his skin, ripped at his clothes and forced him to close his eyes. He planted his feet, grit his teeth, anchoring himself to earth with his own command of wind and still he felt his feet leave the ground, the sheer force of the screaming column of whirling air hurling him backwards. He hit the ground hard enough to crater earth, and bounced twice, only then managing to dig his fingers into the earth and stop his backward tumble.

The winds died and he heard a curse as he rolled groggily to his feet, head ringing from the impact.

"I overpowered it again. I'm so sorry Fang," Jian, his liege, his brother hurried to off him a hand, streams of qi still fluttering in a lazy spiral around him. Han Fang put on an easy grin accepting his help to get up.

But as he shook off the dizziness of being spun end over end in mid air, and the pain of the impact, he stewed. With Jian reaching Appraisal, he could not even spar with him properly anymore. The Scything WInd Retribution technique he was trying to master was just the latest thing to make it obvious. He was falling behind.

Somehow the concern in Jian's eyes just made it worse. 'Break?' he signed, and Han Fang appreciated the show of solidarity.

'I can continue,' he signed back. 'Just a few bruises.' It wasn't a lie exactly, even if he could feel his entire back beginning to bruise.

But his brother's shrewd eyes didn't miss something like that. "Well I need a break," he huffed, carefully clapping Fang on the shoulder. "Let's take a breather at the benches."

Letting out a raspy sigh, Han Fang nodded, there was no use arguing when he was like this. He gritted his teeth in discomfort as he bent down to scoop his hammer from the ground where he had dropped it. The worn grip was a familiar and comforting weight in his hand, but it did little to quell his bleak thoughts. This year was shaping up to be just as absurd as the last.

The Bai girl had broken through just a few weeks ago, she acted like some vicious ghost from an old story, stalking the cross roads and challenging anyone not aligned with Cai who crossed her path, she'd broken Fan Yu's elbow just last month. And every time she had some devilish new talisman, provided by that boy she had picked up early in the year. Lu Feng himself could match Jian, and had once or twice over the course of the year, and word was, one of his people was close to breaking through to third realm.

That wasn't even thinking of the Cai's faction. Su Ling remained a hermit, but since the attack, she had been cooperating closely with them, and everyone knew she was churning out elixirs and pills at a ferocious rate. There were at least a half dozen people in that group who could fight him evenly, and at least three who were brushing up against the edge of the third realm. That said nothing of Gan Guangli himself, who had managed to claw his way all the way to Foundation Bronze despite the limits of the Outer Sect. He seemed to hold no grudge over last year, but Han Fang did not relish the possibility of facing him. At least the Wen girl had been withdrawn after the attack.

He was beginning to despair for his chances.

"Hey, you're going to make it alright?" Han Jian said from beside him, stirring him from his thoughts. They had both sat down on the benches at the edge of the training field. "You made it back to peak, right?"

'Don't trouble yourself over me,' he signed absently. Jian needed to focus on his own growth. The expectations of the Han family were on his back. While last year could be excused, this one could not. 'I'm sorry I can't be more help.'

"You're plenty of help," Jian chuckled, resting his hands on his knees. "You know, she didn't even tell me she was going home?"

Han Fang cocked his head to ths side, and signed a question mark with his right hand. What was Jian talking about.

"Xiulan," he sighed, and Han Fang felt a twinge of dislike.

He had never exactly gotten along with the girl, her dismissive attitude grated. But the way things had gone last year had deepened that feeling into a strong dislike. He wished that Jian would stop thinking about that childish girl. He didn't understand why Fan Yu was still so besotted with her.

"Not even a letter," Jian chuckled sadly. "Well, I guess that's to be expected. Point is, Fang, I need you more than ever. I don't exactly have many friends left."

Han Fang's burgeoning scowl softened, and he clapped his brother on the shoulder. He wouldn't fail again. He had to be able to support him. 'Don't worry then. I won't be left behind.'

"Heh, I can always count on you," Han Jian said lightly. "Actually, I was going to tell you later, but I got the response back for my last letter to Father."

Han Fang blinked at the sudden change in subject. 'Oh, good news?' he signed.

"You could say that," Han Jian said, smiling. It was good to see that expression. "You're going to be getting a spirit beast. They won't be main line like Heijin, but Father promised to negotiate for someone agreable…"

He trailed off at the look of shock on Han Fang's face. Had Jian really done that. He was only adopted, that wasn't a light thing to request. He could have gotten a new domain weapon, or a cache of family elixirs or…

Han Fang squeezed his eyes shut, and signed a silent 'Thank You.'

"It's nothing," he heard Han Jian say gently. "You're family, Fang. Thanks for sticking with me."

He could only nod.

"But hey," Han Jian said cheerfully, lightly punching him in the shoulder. "You're gonna have to get to Third Realm pronto if you want to bind them when they get here."

'I won't fail,' Han Fang signed. He would live up to his Brother's expectations.

***​

That night, Han Fang set out. The wilderness around the Sect was peaceful these days, the peace of fearful anticipation. Beasts hid in their burrows, and spirits kept their voices down, for high above in the clear and cloudless night sky, the titanic coils of a great dragon hung, silent and ominous. Despite the peace, the air was thick with the qi of storms. The rumble of thunder, the crackle of lightning, the howl of the wind. Ambition, innovation, and freedom.

Some would think that one such as he was ill suited to those elements. That one who followed could not master the crack of Thunder, but Han Fang knew that was wrong.

For Han Jian, he would scale the highest mountain of the Wall. He would face any enemy, no matter how overwhelming. For his brother, his foolish, too kind brother, he would do anything. How could he let something as petty as his own limits stand in the path of that?

So, it was without reservation that he strode to the top of the hill torn by the winds of spirits driven down from the upper air, and sat down to meditate.

And, when the sun rose, Thunder crashed, and he was born anew.

AN: New commission piece up for the public. Enjoy.

 

[yrsillar]

Her steps sent ripples through the surface of the water, and metal ribbons cut through the air with a whispering hiss. Bai Meizhen's wrist barely moved as the ribbons of her weapon danced. The urumi was a difficult weapon to master, and an unusual choice even in the Bai clan. Originally brought to the Thousand Lakes by Bai Di Xia, who had returned from a sea voyage to the lands beyond the Red Garden with a ship full of treasure and a foreign husband in the time of the first dynasty, it had grown rather popular among the starstruck members of the Violet Caste for a time.

Bai Meizhen breathed out as the snapping ribbons traced an arcing wave through the waters and snapped back with a subtle adjustment of her grip and guiding qi. Of course, she had not known any of that obscure history when she selected the weapon. She knew only that her Aunt Suzhen preferred it.

It was a painful weapon to master. With the meager skill of a barely awakened child, she could not count the number of times which she had cut herself, had risked loss of eye and ear and finger to the hungry ribbons. Now, those metallic strands moved as an extension of her will.

If only it was possible to apply such mastery to all things. Her gaze fell upon the muddy shore of the tiny lake, and pain spiked deep in her heart. She… she did not know what she had been thinking. That night on the lakeside, she had sat beside Ling Qi, with both of them draped in little more than dripping shifts and every lesson on self control, every lesson on restraint and propriety had flown from her head. The unfamiliar feelings which had clouded her head defied all sense.

And then, when it was over, she had seen Ling Qi's eyes, and it had felt like a rivals fangs sinking into her heart. Incomprension, alarm,and fear; Ling Qi, who asked to be subjected to her clan arts as training, who had approached even as an untrained mortal, had never looked at her with eyes like that.

For a moment, Bai Meizhen found her breath unsteady, and the smooth ripples of her steps faltered, water churning into whitecapped froth beneath her feet. It wasn't fair, this wasn't how the story was meant to go. The fearless petitioner to the great serpent was not meant to pull away in disgust after all the trials had ended.

Her grip tightened on the handle of her urumi, and she crushed that childish thought without mercy. Her qi stilled, and the next step of the kata flowed once again with perfect grace. At first, she had told herself that it was not like that, that Ling Qi's Imperial upbringing had merely left her unprepared for… non-reproductive pairings, but she had not been able to hold onto that delusion for long.

Ling Qi did not look at her that way. Ling Qi would not look at her that way. And, though she did well to hide it, the fear that she had seen bloom in her eyes that night never really went away. All the little things which she had told herself were expressions of interest, or at least, not disinterest, had been mere illusions of the mind.

The corners of her eyes burned as she spun, her snow white gown billowing out, following the ripples of her steps. She understood that her feelings would not be reciprocated. She did.

So why did Ling Qi continue to approach her? Continue to treat her with such intimacy? It didn't make sense. Every time she had convinced herself that she could move on, could step away and return to normalcy, that cruel girl would reignite the foolish hope in her stupid heart.

It hurt her, but she could also see that it hurt Ling Qi, every time an awkward silence fell. She didn't understand.

Cai Renxiang had been a boon in the days immediately after. Cui had been spitting furious, and it was all she could do to restrain her sister from attacking Ling Qi physically, and Ling Qi herself… that problem was obvious.

Cai Renxiang had offered her an attentive and unjudging ear, and silence that did not ring with unspoken words. In time, she even began to find some pleasure in the idle needlework with which they occupied their time.

And, if in a moment of weakness she had reached for the girl's hand. The simple and matter of fact assurance that Cai Renxiang was not interested in such things hurt far less than Ling Qi's rejection. Even if the same idiot part of her that searched desperately for signs of Ling Qi's interest whispered that surely such interest could be aroused?

Bai Meizhen understood why so many cultivators excised such drives as they followed the Path.

Her thoughts were interrupted then as she felt an intrusion of another presence into her awareness. Not a foe or a threat, but an unremarkable second realm, running for the lake shore. Who would dare approach her training grounds in such a way? Bai Meizhen opened her eyes, ending her martial dance and turned to the shore.

The young man she had sensed sprinted from the treeline, skidding to the halt on the shore. He was not someone she recognized on sight, but her eyes fell upon the plain white armband he wore, and she did not lash out.

The disciple fell to his knees, bowing his head low. "Message from Lady Cai to Miss Bai," he announced hurriedly.

Bai Meizhen frowned marginally as she glided across the water and back to the shore. Unusual. It must be urgent if Cai Renxiang would interrupt her cultivation. "Speak," she said imperiouslly.
"Lady Cai requests Miss Bai's assistance," the messenger said without pause. "The rebel Princess Sun has gone on the offensive."

Bai Meizhen cocked an eyebrow as she reached the shore, already? She had expected more build up from that top heavy wretch. "Where?"

"She was last seen hunting council member Ling Qi on the upper mountain. Sir Fu assisted her escape, but danger re-"

The boys voice cut off with a strangled sound as a metal ribbon tore a gauge in the stones in front of his face. The waters of the shore rippled violently and the color seemed to fade from the world. Out in the lake bubbles rose as water churned, and fish floated to the surface belly up.

Bai Meizhen barely noticed the faint acrid scent of urine tingeing the air. Sun Liling. How dare she.

She vanished from the shore with little more than a rustle of cloth and the hiss of steel ribbons. On the shore, a messenger collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his face reddened by shame.

 

[yrsillar]

...The events in the west are concerning indeed, however not for the reasons which you profess dear sister. Among the people of the west, the Red Garden had very few friends indeed. You are of course aware of our own history, and the Sage's war in the west, but you must understand that although they might appear similar to us, the Thousand Princes do not regard them as countrymen.

Just as the Sage warred and dealed to unite our peoples, so too did the one who is simply known as the Great, warred across the west a century or two before that time. However, his conquest never reached the jungles, nor the icy plateaus of the south. I am not wholly certain that I understand the stories properly, as they seem odd indeed to me. It seems that their great King came to regard his conquests with sorrow and horror for some reason, and ceased to expand. It is said that he built many great temples, libraries and places of learning with his own two hands in the era that followed, and upon reaching the point of ascension, he shattered his throne, granting a single fragment to each of his thousand descendants spoke a commandment that any who sought to hold more than one fragment would suffer an unending and terrible karma.

A fanciful tale indeed, but it does serve as the source of the titular Thousand Princes, and indeed it explains well why there are still a thousand of them! It is likely exaggerated to an extent, much like the tales of our Sage, and I suspect it has its roots in their older legends as well. Did you know that the people of the West insist that the Nameless Father and Mother were originally one being, which split itself in twain to combat it's loneliness and isolation? An interesting twist on the tale, wouldn't you say?

But I am wandering, as is my wont. Suffice to say, the Red Garden did not and never has owned one of the throne fragments, which are quite real.

So, having assuaged your political concerns dear Bond Sister, let us return to more academic matters. My efforts to charm Prince Vira Kerala have finally born fruit, and I was granted permission to speak to his scholars and read documents which do not hold secret knowledge. Here I was finally able to study the foundations of their cultivation system, which I must say are fascinating.

Here again I found evidence of the theme of division. The western people regard each individual as having been split from the same primal one-ness, and the eventual goal is to rejoin it. The world is damaged and incomplete they say, and it is only in achieving oneness with the world that the being which became the Mother and Father can be restored. It is this restoration which will mark the end of this 'kalpa' or cycle of existence. The world will end and be forged anew free of its flaws, and the godhead will split once again.

Quite quaint, I find, it reminds of the more religious approaches to cultivation which existed in the early empire. The actual mechanics are far more fascinating. Do you know that they truly do not have meridians? The Guru regarded me as if I were mad when I described them, seeing carving such channels as an act of self mutilation, akin to the acts of self-mortification which some of the southern princes practice, and which the others abhor. Instead it seems that they rely wholly upon their chakras, which are… strange.

Three of them are roughly analogous to our dantians, but there are seven in total, and all seven are cultivated from the beginning rather than opening at different realms. I have found attempting their methods quite useless, but I do wonder if a cultivator not so far along the path would have different results. However, I was able to make some of their simple techniques function with some modification.

I found techniques which focused upon the lower chakras less difficult. I am told my root chakra is quite well developed indeed! Or at least so the ladies of court have said, though I must admit they have certainly taught me a thing or two! The people of the west do not disdain the sexual aspect of life near as much as our countrymen. It is quite refreshing in more ways than one.

I shall bring you a copy of the tome I have found on the subject, perhaps you can teach one of those flimsy academic types you enjoy something interesting!

More seriously, Each chakra seems to function as a sort of giant meridian, allowing the use of techniques related to that Chakra's aspect. From the lowest to highest, the Chakras are associated with a body part and a color. The Red Chakra is located at the base of the spine. the Orange Chakra islocated at the root of ones genitals, the Yellow at the navel, the Green at the heart, the Blue at the throat, the Indigo between the eyes, and the Violet or 'Prism' above the crown of the head.

There are some parallels there, are there not?

The actual function of the chakra's is strange to me however. The Manipura Chakra, for example is the chakra located in roughly the same region as the lower dantian, and is cultivated through various breathing exercises and arts. Cultivation of this chakra improves the power of movement and visual techniques. As you can see the chakra serves the same function as meridians, though it splits some things oddly. The Heart Chakra for example is associated with techniques which use the hands as well as illusions and speech. It seems nonsensical to users of our system.

And while I say that all Chakras must be cultivated at once, but this is at least slightly inaccurate, the seventh Chakra, the Sahasrara which exists outside of the body, and is wholly spiritual, seems to serve the same function of our higher dantians in allowing for the production of greater energies. However, it is also the gate through which all energy flows and becomes qi, rather than opening a new organ, higher cultivation is simply a matter of refining the connection to the One and thus receiving access to Law.

I cannot say I care for the aspects of allowing the self to be subsumed for the whole, but it does make one think a bit. How much do we take the Realm beyond for granted in our endless climb?

The things you muse on after a decade alone on a mountain peak! I think I may have grown a touch maudlin there. In any case, by the time you receive this letter, bond Sister, I will be on my way home.

Zheng Lu, King of Explorers.

 

[yrsillar]

AN: Alrighty, here's a commission piece to help tide you over. Enjoy.

Sima Jiao branch three stood still in the center of the empty, unfurnished room. He wore robes of plain black, and a white mask, blank save for a single mark of rank, a third eye inscribed upon his brow is black and silver ink. Prime-self remained in the imperial palace. Branch one remained in the ministry, running interference. Branch two remained on duty observing the developing situation in Thousand Lakes.

Branch three was the lowest priority, little more than a warning alarm and activation switch for the more complex defense mechanisms, invested only with the base power of a first realm, outside of perception. Even higher priority branches had been reduced to bare minimum to avoid unduly weakening the Prime.

His secondary purpose was self management. Sima Jiao looked down at his hand, and flexed his fingers, examining their newly dull grey shade. The skin was smooth, the lines and marks of birth gone. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, studying the infinitesimal puff of grey dust worked loose.

Just like the moonstone dagger he had driven into the base of his Father's skull. The stroke had been perfect in precision, cutting through flesh and spirit to slice deep into the old patriarch's mind pearl, scrambling his thoughts and slowing his reactions. It had not killed him of course, no wielder of sovereignty could be slain in a single blow. However, it had slowed and weakened him.

It had allowed the eight thousand seven hundred and thirty two precise strikes that followed over the next ninety seven seconds to do so with minimal disruption and collateral. The raw betrayal, rage and grief he had felt radiating from his Father with each blow skittered distantly through his thoughts.

He recalled a young boy grinning proudly as Father handed him his first real sword.

Irrelevant. Excise.

Aunt Min, the current clan head had been the next target. Six thousand forty one strikes. Sixty seven seconds.

He recalled a young boy and an older woman, smiling as she passed him a sweet from a voluminous sleeve after he had angered his father with his antics.

Irrelevant. Excise.

His Elder Brother Jian, the heir. Four thousand two hundred and twelve strikes… One hundred and thirty five seconds. Hesitation. Error, costing time. Mistake corrected. High priority eliminations completed.

He recalled a young boy in the garden falling asleep as his brother read him a story of heroes.

Irrelevant. Excise.

"Uncle, where is my Father?" a young voice asked, and Sima Jiao twitched.

His charge had been beneath his notice while not under threat, the one thing he was not on guard against. She must have awakened and noticed the change of venue.

He turned to face her mechanically. The Princess Xiang stood before him, thirteen years old and well into the second realm, an acceptable rate of growth for an imperial princess. She was disheveled from sleep, wearing only a simple black robe. Her bone white hair hung loose about her shoulders. Unacceptable breach of decorum, in any other time and place.

Her features and eyes were sharp, shedding the softness of youth. It was only her dark eyes which made her seem less than a youthful twin of her mother.

Her late mother. He had failed to protect his prince's consort and wife-to-be from the machinations of her own family. The dominant isolationist faction had found the idea of a White Serpent in such a position unacceptable. They had acted. He had failed.

Now his Emperor had only the scheming creatures which had been attached to him by his own late father. At least some of his sons were loyal. They fought at their father's side even now.

"Your Father is in the Imperial Palace," he replied simply.

"Then why am I not in my rooms?" the Princess asked bluntly, crossing her arms. Youthful impetuousness remained in her.

Engage comforting social gestures. He raised a hand to rub his bald head. His hair had vanished along with his wastrel mask. He felt a twinge of something, sadness perhaps.

Irrelevant. Excise.

"The Princess is sharp eyed," he said, injecting humor into his tone. "Your Father is engaging with some discontented supplicants." The foundations of the palace trembled as Emperor An and his prime engaged with the Emperor's Uncle in the cavernous halls, their power contained by the eons old spirit of the palace. Mu Jing had been deeply enmeshed with the power structures of the controlling count clans. They had underestimated his attachment to their vices. Underestimated his capacity to try and drag his own clan down on the dawn of their victory.

The Mu clan would have lost much strength by morning. Unfortunate. It would set back plans by decades.
Princess Xiang regarded him suspiciously. "More assassins?"

This time his smile required less effort. It was dimmed as the Crown Prince, her eldest brother, fell under the concentrated offense of three of his cousins, Mu Jing's sons, deep in the Imperial archive. He was avenged momentarily. "The Princess has understood her lessons well."

She looked away, her expression dropping. "...When will it stop, Uncle?"

The tired despair in her voice touched something that remained in him. The Crown Prince was not the first of her siblings to fall to palace intrigues, and he would probably not be the last. But his emperor had been clear. Not Xiang. Never Xiang. It had been his last command to Jiao before he had stepped into the White realm, and cast aside personal bonds.

Jiao felt so very old in that moment, even as his Emperor cut down the last credible threat to his throne. Distantly, he remembered the night he had descended the stairs, and the warnings he had been given.

Irrelevant. Excise.

"When the Imperial Throne is supreme once more," he replied quietly. "Princess, please retire for now. This will be over by morning."

"Jiao, the last of the conspirators have been marked," Xin's whisper reached him, echoing from Prime to branch. "The operation is complete. Only the combatants in the palace remain."

It was a balm to hear as he watched the princess turn away, knowing that he had not lied again. His prime self impaled the last of Mu Jing's sons upon his own shadow, as he lay asleep in bed, a boy barely half a year the princess's Elder.

"Jiao," Xin said quietly, in a voice for only him and not their many agents. "After this, may we please spend some time in our apartments, alone? It need not be our primary selves."

He nearly dismissed her request immediately. Even a minimally powered simulacrum was an unacceptable expenditure of resources.

He recalled a young man, and his wide grin as he caused a stoic moon fairy to laugh aloud for the first time.

Irrelev-

No.

Sima Jiao reached up to touch his fingers to his chest, where he had felt a brief pain. "A good idea, it would not do, to burn ourselves out," he murmured.

"I love you, Xin." he whispered silently.

"And I you," she murmured back.

 

[yrsillar]

AN: Releasing this one a little early since its aurprisingly relevant. Update itself will be out later today.

How does one describe in human words a world beyond human sense. The limits of written language are never clearer than this. Poets artists and scholars alike have poured out oceans of ink in the attempt, and each manages to convey only a facet. A single glimmering face of gem of indeterminate size.

But is that not appropriate for such a place as the liminal realm. The place where material form fades in prominence and consciousness resides? Indeed, calling it a realm at all is a failure of language. The realm of dreams is a sea of spirits, a vast whirling constellation of self contained worlds within bubbles of glass, and a whorling miasma of chaos all at once. It is the place where every person down to the meanest mortal is a king, and a place where the mighty walk, fly, and swim as leviathans of the sea, dragging lesser beings into their wake, emperors fit to trample kings underfoot.

You are such a scholarly girl, you ask me to define the laws of that place the way one would lay out the anatomy of a butterfly or describe the cycle of rains. Many wise scholars have tried to define the liminal realm, to determine its rules through painstaking experimentation and trial, and indeed, for those of academic bent, the liminal realm accommodates their tests, and the rules they 'discover' become the truth, but only within the reach of their eyes and pens.

This approach is a mistake I believe, for though Law changes in base reality, this process is slow and deliberate enough to be documented by mortal minds. In the places where Stillness does not reach, in which a single errant whim from a potent passerby might upend decades of study, it is only another type of self delusion. There is value in charting the Law which exists within particular self defined corners of course, if only to avoid offending their masters, but this approach is wrong when attempting to cultivate liminal energies oneself.

Rather, when venturing into the realms of thought, what is most important is identity and agency. Tales of moon madness have their kernel of truth here. For an unprepared mind, contact with liminal beings and places can blur the lines of the self, and damage the mind. In a place where all things are determined by will, one without a strong sense of self risks being molded like clay by creatures who see no wrong in the doing, for it is the great game of their fleeting existences.

To this end, one must maintain agency, defined here as clarity in one's goals and desires. To properly manipulate the liminal one must both know themselves and know their goals within it, and must maintain that knowledge as well as they may in the face of the energies and entities therein. It is important however, to not be too rigid in one's understanding, until you have reached the peak of cultivation, you must remember that you are ultimately human, and a creature of change and stillness alike. Resisting all influence can be as damaging as not, calcifying your thoughts into rigid structures long before you have even glimpsed your particular Truth.

It is a careful balance to maintain, and why such arts are restricted from open use. However, my niece, if you truly wish to follow my footsteps, it may be possible. I will not yet grant you the permissions to access true liminal arts just yet. Your Mother must be informed and if she approves, your ability will be tested.

-Bai Xia Song, Senior Archivist of the Violet Reef replying to a letter from her niece

***​

I ask that you not put so much stock in songs or stories my lord. While it is true that the realm of dreams is a difficult and chaotic place, there are certain underlying principles to it all the same. Established domains within that spiritual space are extremely high maintenance due to the corrosively chaotic nature of it and intrusions of spiritual entities, it is perfectly possible to exploit properly with rigorous enough effort.

The liminal realm is unstable and chaotic… but only absent the controlling force of a cultivators mind. With such a force, it is more than possible to establish small stable zones. It is really only an extrapolation of the principle by which the lagunas which surround certain powerful entities are maintained. While this is too draining for any but the mightiest cultivators to maintain on a permanent basis, as I have demonstrated, I have discovered a method by which the work may be offloaded onto a construct. Thus reducing the matter to merely being one of fuel.

My Mirror ways project is wholly stable, granting a path through which important individuals and goods may be moved without little details such as space or geography. You have seen my prototype, and while the distance used was small, I assure you that the principle remains sound over greater distances. Longer Ways will require more stabilizing constructs, and this will be a significant initial expense, but I assure you, the return granted by cutting out other transport costs and middle men will turn a tidy profit after only a few decades. With further development, it may even be possible to reach truly distant markets! Imagine for a moment, the power to be had in sole access to exotic goods beyond the reach of any other province!

As to the danger of liminal entities taking offence, it is a concern, this is true, but no more of one than dealing with spirits which inhabit a stretch of land meant for a new road. The taming process is somewhat more involved, and dangerous, but it is the role of one's troops to sacrifice for the clan yes? If it is truly a concern, perhaps an incentive can be offered to the families, a stipend of some sort perhaps? I will leave such details to my lord's wisdom.

As to your logistical concerns regarding the materials for the stabilizing constructs, the entrapped muse spirits do not maintain any conscious thought or sapience once properly bound. They cannot escape or sabotage the Ways, and if properly warded we need not concern ourselves with reprisals by their kin any more than we concern ourselves with more material spirit beasts when harvesting their reagents.

In any case, I have included the schematics and cost estimates for the first properly established way with this cover letter. This humble craftsman hopes that your lordship will consider his humble proposal. It would be quite a feather in your lordships cap, to be known for raising a modern Grandmaster.

--Wei Xing, Master Craftsmen of Alabaster Seas, to the Clan Head of Jin

 

[yrsillar]

AN: Just a fun little comission to tide you guys over until the update

Set Late Turn 6

"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. Dressed in robes of pale green rather than his armor, he looked very much the gentleman. "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. "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 a little 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 indeed, 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 medical hall after an ambush, an arrow in her back, cuts and bruises on her face and limbs and a spearhead in her shoulder, wearing this horrible empty expression. 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 they 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, buried by dirt and grown over by tree and bush. Yet 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 as well," 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 truly 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, crippled by service in their lord's army, and her Mother, never recovered fully from the Red Lung plague. She would break through before seventeen, 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 as well," 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.

Gun Jun smiled. "Then, Ma Jun, once our duties and cultivation are complete, would you like too…"

His words 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 as well, hastily expressed her zither, a song rising to her lips…

And 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… 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, and so I have commissioned a batch of easing elixirs, so that your 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.

 

[yrsillar]

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 clouded 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 the sizzling liquid pool beneath exploded backward at the sudden pressure, cracking the stone beneath. For a single moment, she met the girls 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, weighting her heavy clothing and soaking her hair.

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. She had long since given up on severing them all, the twin needles of carved red jade which were the girl's own weapon spun them faster than they could be destroyed, and the weapons themselves were nigh indestructible to her, the benefit of integration.

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 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 molten stone of the deep crater, twelve meters deep 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. 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, solid stone behind that cracked 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 her 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. She was fine, mild burns, constricted and bruised windpipe, low blood toxicity and abrasions, depleted qi, only light rest 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 crying 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."

Beast testing, or she would have to offer 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 replied. "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. Her assistance had shaved months off of the project however, and at this point, she 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 replied 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 her. 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. If…

"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, she could tell that much as they stepped through the partially melted entrance of the training ground. However, 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. Looking ahead.

"You need not-" Bai Meizhen began.

"I want to," she replied. Doing less was unacceptable. A Bao 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.

AN: Heyo guys, here's another in the little line of meizhen sidestories I'm working on.

 

[yrsillar]

AN: Sorry it's not the update, but have a commission piece to help tide you over.

The rocks in the Shallow Jade oasis really were the best, Han Jian thought sleepily.

He yawned and stretched, luxuriating in the warmth of the flat stone beneath him. And cracked an eye open to peer at the sky above. The shimmer of the oasis barrier distorted the sky, giving it a relaxing wavy effect. Although… the sun had moved pretty far huh? He might have overslept again.

"Young Master," a woman's voice, thick with exasperation reached his ears. He closed his eyes as a shadow fell over him. Yes, he had definitely overslept.

"Young Master, you are not fooling anyone," Nanny said disapprovingly. "Please get up, your calligraphy tutor is waiting."

Han Jian groaned, finally opening his eyes. "Do I have to? It's so boring and this is the last day at the oasis."

Unfortunately, the pleading gaze he gave to Nanny was useless. The stern older woman's frown did not even waver. He wondered if the sun had baked her spirit like it had baked her skin. She was totally merciless.

His Nanny was amongst the oldest of his family's servants, and she looked the part too, with a wrinkled sun darkened face and wispy white hair tied up in a severe bun. She wore the same thing she always wore, a yellow and black gown marked with the livery of the Han. Her bright green eyes were still piercing and sharp though.

"Young Master, you are ten years old, you cannot continue to be so lax," she replied severely. "Now stand. Or do you need to be carried again?"

"No!" Han Jian scrambled upright and hopped off the rock. He still couldn't believe that Father had let that happen. His cheeks still burned at the memory of being hauled up by the back of the robe and carried through the compound like a misbehaving kitten. "I'm ready for my lesson!"

Nanny gave his disheveled appearance a disapproving sniff, and turned on her heel. It revealed the one who had been standing behind her.

Shu Fang, his friend and attendant bowed his head contritely. He didn't dare apologize aloud, but Han Jian could see it on his face.

Han Jian clapped the taller boy on the shoulder as he passed by, hurrying to follow Nanny. Obviously, he couldn't blame Fang for not being able to stop his Grandmother, that would be silly. He had only intended for Fang to keep a lookout for his annoying cousins.

He cast one last regretful look at the center of the oasis, the perfectly round jade tiled pool and it's many branching channels flowing out into the fields. He'd really wanted to get one last swim in too. He didn't have long to look though, he had to hurry and follow Nanny, or her longer stride was going to leave him behind.

She wasn't exactly being kind with her pace either. Han Jian had to practically jog to keep up with her as they left the central oasis, following the road out to where the manor was currently resting. They passed by the fields and their workers, and the great bounty they were reaping. This was the pride of the Han family, being the stewards of the oasis system which allowed farming to work at all in the Golden Fields.

His tutors had spent a long time pounding the basics of the clans prosperity into his head, even if all of the actual formation work looked like spiderwebs and squiggles to him.

Soon they reached the outskirts, where green turned to yellow, grey and brown. On the ridge which overlooked the oasis valley, the manor rested. The Han manor was really big, the biggest mobile manor in the whole province, if you didn't count Grandfather Fortress, and Han Jian was pretty sure that he wasn't supposed to count.

The manor and the grounds rested on immense runners, etched with arrays that allowed it to slide across sand and ash. Han Jian didn't pay it much mind as he mounted the temporary stairs constructed up the side, he had to do his best not to pant thanks to the pace his Nanny was setting!

"Am I really that late?" he complained. He definitely wasn't whining. "Can't the lesson just run a little late?" He asked as they reached the top of the steps. Tall grass and flowering bushes stretched out to either side of the stone path which led to the doors, and several of his lounging cousins strewn about the grounds looked up at their passage. The great golden tigers of the Han flicked their ears in amusement at their human counterparts before laying their heads back down.

No one scolded them for oversleeping, Han Jian thought mutinously.

"Ah, sir Han, don't you remember…" Shu Fang began to whisper.

His words were interrupted by the gimlet stare of Nanny, who looked disapproving over her shoulder as they stopped before the doors, leaving time for the great portal to grind open. "Patriarch Han and Matriarch East Wind are to return from their expedition to the Grave this day, Young Master. Please consider your Father before making such complaints."

Han Jian's eyes flew wide. That was… of course it was today. This was the last day at the oasis. Ugh, no wonder Nanny was so mad. He shot Fang an aggrieved look. "Why didn't you remind me?" he grumbled under his breath.

"I tried," Fang sighed heavily.

Han Jian huffed. He must not have tried very hard. He supposed he wasn't going to blame Fang too much though, it was hard to keep track of boring stuff at the oasis. He wasn't even sure why he had to be there, it wasn't like he or any of the youngest generation actually did anything at the big yearly meetings when Great Grandfather returned from his cultivation trips.

But he supposed he really shouldn't embarrass Father either. Father was much less strict than some of his cousins' parents. "I am sorry for my lack of consideration," he said.

Nanny gave him a hard look, and he wilted further, putting his head down in a show of obeisance. After a long moment, Nanny pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "Please, try to keep that thought in mind for the future Young Master."

Han Jian glanced to the side. He wasn't that bad. He glanced to fang for support, and the taller boy gave him a smile of support.

Ah well, in the end, meeting or no, it was just another day like all the ones before it. Nothing ever really changed out in the sands.

 

[yrsillar]

Even the inner garden would be better than sitting inside, Han Jian thought morosely. In the fading warmth of the evening, the scent of the flowers and the warmth of the stone benches would be just right.

"Young master, would you like to make another move?"

Han Jian blinked,looking away from the window,and back to Shu Fang and the go board between them. He glanced down at the board, where Shu Fang's black pieces greatly outnumbered and surrounded his own white ones. "...Nah, you win again."

Shu Fang didn't look pleased though. Instead he frowned at Han Jian. "Young master would win if he was paying attention."

Han Jian huffed irritably. Even Shu Fang was getting in on the scolding. He opened his mouth to dismiss the words, but then he glanced at Shu Fang's face. Oh, he guessed that it was kind of insulting, wasn't it. He wouldn't feel good about winning against someone who wasn't even trying either. "Sorry, and hey, didn't I say to call me Han Jian when it's just the two of us?"

"You did," Shu Fang said stiffly. Man, Nanny had really gotten to him, what a troublesome old woman. "Was the Han family gathering really so dull?"

Han Jian thought back to the hours sitting stiffly at a table with the other unawakened members of the Han family, unable to so much as scratch his ear without causing offense, while, beyond the sealing screens, the older members spoke about the Patriarchs latest foray into the Grave to gather powerful resources for the family.

All of which was irrelevant to him, it'd be forever before he had to worry about any of that stuff. Why did they even bother having the kids there? It wasn't like they could even pay respects to the Patriarch, since he was so strong, and they were still mortals.

Nanny had droned on and on about learning to emulate their elders by observing them through the screens, but Han Jian hadn't really listened to her much.

"Dull is the word, yeah," Han Jian sighed. "Well Father was happy at least. The Patriarch praised his eastern campaign." His eyes wandered around the room, falling on a shelf where row upon row of richly painted toy soldiers, carved from bone and ivory, sat. He'd been interested in them once. There were a lot of things like that here. He was sure his father would buy him something else in celebration of their families success.

Maybe Father would even be around long enough to say more than a score of words to him.

"I'm glad for you young-" Shu Fang paused as han Jian gave him a look. "...Han Jian. Do you think you might be allowed to attempt awakening soon?"

Han Jian hummed to himself, fiddling with a shiny white go piece. "Probably not, no point in starting early, right? It'd just be a big pain." He'd been given some preliminary lessons in mediation, and it was the dullest thing in the world. Plus the instructor had whacked him with a stick when he fell asleep.

"Oh," Shu Fang said with disappointment, beginning to pick up the pieces.

"Besides, I should wait till I can train with you, right?" Han Jian said. Shu Fang was too easy to figure out. The taller boy loved hero stories. He knew Shu Fang really wanted to be a cultivator. The other boy didn't understand that most cultivators were just boring people with boring jobs.

"You shouldn't put it off for a reason like that," Shu Fang protested, but Han Jian could see him look pleased. "Han Jian, what kind of weapon do you think you want to…"

The door opened, interrupting his friends. Words. Nanny stood there, framed in the light of the lanterns. Her expression was as stern as ever. "Young master, Shu Fang, it is time to prepare for bed. Young master, you will need to finish your delayed lessons in the morning."

"Yes Nanny," Han Jian sighed.

"Yes Grandmother," Shu Fang murmured, beginning to put the pieces away faster.

***​

Han Jian sat up in his bed, his eyes snapping open.

His room was dark, the faint light of the moon through the window cast his things in silhouette. He had heard a thump. He could still hear the low sound of the wind outside, so it wasn't that. He blinked blearily, looking around. Shu Fang was asleep in the bed at the foot of his own, and it hadn't been the wind rattling the window. It had sounded heavy. Had one of his toys fallen? Or had a servant dropped something?

He almost laid back down when he saw it.

Something liquid oozed under his door, sticky and dark.

"...Nanny?" he called, alarm rising. She should have been right outside, like always.

Then the man was there.

Time seemed to slow down. A man was standing in his room, outlined by the dim moonlight. He wore the livery of a servant. He seemed young, unremarkable. Tanned but not too tanned, brown hair, middling height. Average.

In his left hand he held a bloodsoaked knife.

But it was his eyes that pinned Han Jian in place, stilled the scream in his throat. He was Empty. There was nothing behind his eyes, nothing to read, nothing to feel. Han Jian's hands tightened on his blankets. He couldn't hear the wind any more.

The Empty Man moved without a whisper of sound, and was before his bed. Han Jian saw the knife rise.

The door to his bedroom splintered, and a streamer of cloth seized the man's left arm, he was yanked back, his knife pulled away before it could strike.

Nanny knelt in the doorway, one hand over her ruined throat, one extended toward the man. Her gown was soaked in blood, ripped and torn. Somewhere in the back of his mind, anatomy lessons drifted, wounds to each of the major organs and arteries.

The Empty Man's expression didn't change as he was spun around by Nanny's cloth binding. In his right hand clear shards of glass bloomed between his fingers and flew. Nanny jerked, her wrinkled face twisted in pain as they struck her, and the Empty Man slipped loose.

Shu Fang was scrambling out of bed. Han Jian could see him crying out for his Grandmother, but he couldn't hear a thing.

The Empty Man was back, looming over him, Shu Fang was in the way, and Han Jian could only whimper silently as his best friend collapsed to the floor in a spray of blood, his throat opened by a flick of the wicked knife.

Then the knife came for him, and he still couldn't move.

Maybe it didn't matter, the man was a blur, when han Jian saw him move at all. He saw the glittering edge of the knife coming for him, the toxic violet glow that shone even through the blood.

The point stopped, quivering, a hair's breadth from his throat. Wide eyed, han Jian saw the tension in the Empty Man's arm, the strain of muscle seeking to press the blade in just a bit farther, and in the Empty Man's eyes, he finally saw something. A flicker of fear, dull and mild, but present all the same.

The air was warm.

The silence shattered, and Han Jian heard his own terrified breathing, heard Shu Fang gurgling on the floor. He heard the Empty Man grunt in effort, straining for that last millimeter.
He felt the air thrum. He heard the window pane rattle, toys and books fell from the shelves.

Rage shook the air in visible distortions, like the haze of heat at high noon.

A sob of relief escaped his throat. Father was here.

Sand and screaming wind ripped through the gaps in the walls wooden boards, and wood bulged inward, then broke under the weight of the force behind them. Splinters and sawdust flew, tearing the room apart. But his bed was untouched. Not a single grain of sand or shrapnel touched his sheets.

The Empty Man was ripped away by roaring wind and searing sand. His clothing shredded, scoured away, and he slammed into the ceiling. Grains of sand ripped his flesh, and finally he made a sound.

He screamed.

He screamed and screamed, until there was nothing left with which to scream.

And then Father was there, a plume of sand transforming into silken house robes and calloused hands, the rage was still there, humming in the air, but it was dull now, dulled by concern.

"Father...please, Nanny and Shu Fang," Han Jian croaked, his voice muffled as he buried his face in fathers robes. Father was here, everything would be alright, wouldn't it?