Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty Eight - Darkberry Zhu

Had he not suffered these last [Seasons], the tempest might have loosed.

This storm of divinity within his [Core] might have arced, gusted and scorched all those that sat about him, condemning Zhu. Iseul and perhaps Mingqin some li above.

Long would weather it.

The night had been filled with unseen crimson, eliminating any chance he might have had to glean his [Core] within the [Visualization Realm]. Indeed the [Primordial Lord of Tribulations] was well-tempered by the storm and all its composites - it raged through heart, [Mind], [Body] and [Spirit] - through each facet.

[Divine Qi], the likes of which Ryedeshui had bestowed for this [Bloodline]...

It was incomparable.

Fu felt painfully mortal, crippled in such unusual fashion. As though, in poor description, bad rice had been ingested and his next belch might deliver a cataclysm.

Pincers tapped upon his neck, warning him of propriety, and he returned his attention to the contest-at-large. An interminable scroll of participants, victory-led changes and further introductions had been at play longer than an incense stick might take to burn, only now reaching those positioned upon the Third Strata.

Descending from the first, naturally.

The Darkberry Tribe’s listings had ended, and now “...this honor will now return to our noble seat, City Lord Mingqin, [Righteous Melodies Phoenix], to give importance to all I cannot,” shared the announcer.

So saying, she rose in all her splendor, a majesty of shimmering silks at her tail. This throne was a roost, holding at each end the titanic phoenixes as living punctuation to her coming statements. “Honoured guests,” she addressed. “There has risen a stain upon these festivities, and so soon into its inception. In some short breaths we were to welcome the return of the Fist of Nine Sect, The Phantom Insect Association, Sect of the Immortal Three, Moondragon Palace, Crescent Lake Sword Sect, Reckless Axe Sect, White Blossom House and- without disrespect, a litany of others. As of dawn, no trace remains of any but that which they left upon this stage.”

Her power evoked heartache.

The song of coming melancholy, loss and shame reverberated through each word, stirring a tide of dewy cheeks and growing outrage across the millions.

Mingqin bayed them with a swift and cutting palm. “An act of one, or act of many? This I have considered since dawn first broke. Rumination offers the same recourse across all routes. That these brazen, dark deeds are an insult against Jade Songbird City and will be met with absolute justice. Know now that the limits of hospitality have been reached.”

Some millions below, bowed, clasped, cheered, grunted, settling only when [Righteous Melodies Phoenix] returned to her throne and the announcer commenced once more.

“Third Strata. [Venerable Reed Sage],” he began, listing thereafter the immortal’s stable of cultivators and all those whose Strata had been promoted by moon-facing acts. “Immortal Reflections Palace… Seventeenth Vajra…”

The list continued. Hushi lingered on those that came before, for the tip of his seventh arm still smarted where the Fist of Nine Sect’s Matriarch had countered her death, as did his fourth where White Blossom House’s myriad [Constellation Seeds] had [Pulled] back, requiring an inclusion of their martial talents.

Shuidi’s sting was of pride, for [Sullen Saber] could, and had, slain immortals faster with a fingernail than her [Arts], [Dao] or Fu’s chain.

They knew not how Zhu fared, only that he now favoured his left wrist.

Two incense sticks later, the second day commenced.

🀧

Victor met victor and the clashes continued. Whatsoever the outcome of the Phoenix Melody Coalition’s bouts, an advantage would be gained.

Whether their disciples remained there to further whittle down the admittedly, secondary forces of each faction, or whether their loss granted them the leave to perform matters outside of the tournament’s million-strong gaze, some silver lining existed within both clouds.

Jihu Wanjie progressed. Chan Gui, Yasodhara, and Jiemei Baotai followed suit, and rested now upon the ringside for the next of the day’s fixtures.

The [Spirit Owl] cultivator of Zhu’s tribe held center stage, possessing now a cruel hook of raptor’s make, hewn from the remnant bones of some great beast. It sunk deep into the shoulder of [Venerable Reed Sage’s] chief disciple, before an explosion of [Force Qi] had her stray back.

This scholarly sort adjusted his cap, brushing a golden tassel from his brow. “The crudeness of these techniques, I would not call them troublesome, no. Vexing is perhaps, more apt. Motions based on instinct and [Might], and indeed, formidable to the unprepared, but they lack the refinement that civility might offer.”

Teeth were shown in reply. Bared.

A diminutive [Spirit Lizard] of vibrant gold stood two-legged upon his shoulder, and its scales had conspired to give it the look of an aged tutor, supported further by the haughty feel of its mannerisms.

They conversed, heedless of the tribeswoman.

Deliberated.

Passion was worn upon an open banner for any of the Warring Tribes. What need had they to mask emotion like those in Sects and marble-clad society? Shuidi thought it humorous that this bait the alchemist played - this ire he stoked - was both his intention and not.

The tribeswoman did not rise to it, and in kind, only responded with anger.

A difference indeed existed.

“[Above Fern and Reed, the Feathered Shade Flies].” A purity of light radiated across the area, whitening until Fu was sure many spectators would hold difficulty seeing what occurred within. This domain expanded to all corners, and not one moment beyond its conjuration there flew a swift and blackened blur.

Talons savaged the alchemist. The raptor’s hook went further. Ten times a breath for some myriad breaths.

These tribals held a [Prowess] unrivalled. One gained by the hunt, by survival, the omission of comfort, and reliance on the self. Even in fury no motion was wasted, nor step out of place, these blows were a terror unto themselves.

And yet-

“Beasts are not men,” shared Zhu, and nothing else.

Violent tendrils lashed from the alchemist’s fresh-drawn rod, multiplying so that each hair upon it stood alone and erect. A single tip, enough, it seemed, to counter the feral blows of both [Spirit Owl] and tribal.

She adapted.

Her foe pushed further, sending his lashes a-chase. Neither he nor his lizard moved from where they had begun.

“How she weaves… it is a dance from fangs, jaw and Qi. Any beast knows where best to cut. Where blood is thickest, richest, and most excited. A neck, a wrist, a leg, a heart. When wild and proud, we fight not like this.”

Some hundred blows passed into a thousand, a truth for all bouts, for while his mind thought of one blow the reality of nigh-immortality was that each was borne of a sequence containing myriad more.

The light ceased as a wetness of crimson splashed atop the platform.

Punctured wings and torn pinions.

“We are thankful to have come across few of your kind,” shared the alchemist, spearing further hairs through the [Spirit Owl’s] second wing, causing its partner to tumble. “The origin of things carries much importance. Were you a seed, then soil, rainfall, nourishment, ambience, temperature, proximity to… alas, no, to speak further is to waste breath. What you lack, as all of these Warring Ferals lack, is both refinement and potential for it. No need exists for which we might study you further. Concede.”

Stymied and strangled, there sounded a hoot.

Zhu swept aside his saucer of wine, upending the entire bottle. “I’d wager our bet doesn’t count if I am the next interruption?” he queried, dark-faced. “Bah. This vintage should not have been rushed, she will pay for that.”

Crimson energy raged at the tribal’s chest.

Each [Array] layered upon the platform grew brighter and greater in stature, and the foremost sprouted an arsenal of protruding jian. Inward. This sea of a thousand blades grew like vast stalactites, well contrasting the sea of a thousand spectators that rushed back from their seats- scrambling over beast and body.

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[Demonic Arts] overcame the tribeswoman and from the bloody miasma at her chest reached a spectral well that consumed her [Spirit Owl]. It became wisps of myriad darkened hues, retracting into her.

“Novel,” shared Hushi, for they had not witnessed this outside of tome and tale.

All this energy conspired upon the tribeswoman, spreading forth a cowl of spectral feathers upon crown and shoulder, grafting spectral talons upon her knuckles and having her [Core] leap into that of something beyond immortality.

“You dare?” sneered the alchemist.

Or so his words might have followed had a spectral arm not plunged through his throat. He rose there, in bloody disbelief, caught between terror, outrage and certain doom as she hoisted him skyward and closed her palm behind him.

His Qi became hers. His flesh wilted. His skin - sallow and grey - became drained of all vitality, and now it visibly flowed into her.

Wasting not a drop.

Many things occurred then at once.

Cries of true immortals assailed the stage, travelling beyond the speeds of the lesser talents’ comprehension. This drone was that of locusts and disturbed hives. A cacophony of brimming [Intent] and declarations against so villainous, condemned, forsaken and evil an act.

Seven immortals used more than voice.

A full spectrum of cataclysms arrived upon the platform, which by all accounts seemed scarcely large enough to host them.

Lao Tzu of the Watercourse bore an open palm, [Eats the Mountain] bore an axe aside his [Spirit Panda], [Peerless Blue Eyes] of the White Dragon Alliance bore a trident, [Silence of the Spectral String] flew some strides distant with an accompaniment of [Spirit Ravens], warbow drawn, two jade-hewn beauties from the [Sixteenth] and [Seventeenth] wove a deadly array of [Death Qi] and [Gold Qi] about them, and at fore stood [Venerable Reed Sage].

Twinned axes had met them all, deflecting and holding each burrowing point or arrow at bay with the flat of each bone head. “Our ways are not your ways, strangers,” shared Zhu. “Refrain from this cowardice, lest I’m forced to dishonour the City Lord’s wishes.”

His arm did not so much as twitch.

To his tribesmate, he merely gestured to retreat. This she did, stepping over the mulched and sallow alchemist’s corpse.

Brave embers burst upon the forms of each barred cultivator, massing Qi and [Internal Arts] beginning to manifest so they might triumph over Zhu’s defense. Still, he remained, sighed, and thrust them back several paces with a flick of his wrist. “Air your grievances, for I’ve seen no law of this tournament broken.”

“[Demonic Arts],” calmly offered Lao Tzu.

“Dark deeds, brother,” shared [Eats the Mountain].

[Peerless Blue Eyes] only intensified his glare, whipping back his trident.

The deep rumble of Zhu’s former [Dao of Truth] shook each coming word, though Fu knew it had far transcended its [Second Pool] origins. When he spoke, it was to each gathered beast- the [Spirit Panda], the ravens, the half-dragon [Spirit Carp] of white and blue, and indeed, [Venerable Reed Sage’s] own [Spirit Salamander].

“Noble beasts. You have forgotten your nature,” he said, flaring a feral set of nostrils with such pageantry it seemed as [Looming Amaranth Tyrant] stood there and not a man of wine, meals and silken sheets. “At what point did you forsake it? No taste of civility exists here. We taste no reconstituted [Spirit Cores] or greenhouse lotuses. Once you were beasts and beholden to the unspoken laws. Now you are corn-fed elders, afraid of this reflection.”

The immortal swiftness of word and action had ended, for now he spoke with the slow purpose of one convening with mortal [Senses].

He spoke aloud for all gathered souls to hear.

[Internal Arts] raged upon the slighted cultivators, seeing Qi fume from each as though boiling stew within a [Winter’s] garden.

[Eats the Mountain’s] [Spirit Panda] rumbled contemplatively. “Once,” it said.

“Once,” repeated the cultivator.

“True [Harmony] comes not from one will, but all. How swift civility dampens what once was. Peerless talents stand before me, though I’ll ask, how much have you lost for all that you’ve gained? Our ways are not your ways, of leisure, meals and sheltered skies, yet- once you walked this Path. Do not forsake it further.”

Each raven landed atop [Silence of the Spectral String’s] shoulder, caressing the bow into going undrawn.

[Eats the Mountain] lowered his axe, wide-eyed and vacant.

Of all, [Venerable Reed Sage] intoned quietest. A mere kitten amongst tigers, frail and aged. Indeed, his own pageantry was such that the balmy [Summer] air inspired a cough. “Distraction from the point, child. I know…” again his cough came, flem-spattered and ruddy, “I know why these righteous souls have rushed toward justice, but it is my heart that has been affronted. To see a cherished disciple fall… ack, to see my precious fosterlings consumed by accursed techniques… honor must be restored. My dry thirst must be slaked.”

“For death?” queried Zhu. “One that walks beside the river must not complain of wet feet, old one. Is this not a test of martial prowess?”

“That… that it is,” he said, going as far as to tremble before the villainous tribal. “My house would know further shame to involve the venerables above in this matter. The Clear Sky’s Pillars should not be asked of their opinion, for surely they abhor the [Demonic] as much as all that draw righteous breath. I… would challenge you to the right for this. Immortal combat. So none may suffer… yes, so none may suffer the same fate as my heart.”

The usually silent Tanshuai scoffed, much to Shuidi’s pleasure.

“It grows interesting, no?” shared the [Spirit Crab]. “Though this peerless mistress cannot say if [Venerable Reed Sage] knows how poor his pageantry is.”

Few wore masks in the Jianghu.

One was to be loud in their Path.

In matters of face, honor and respect. Indeed for each one of the heartfelt passions being stirred by this aged stooge’s words of righteousness, a thousand more laughed and conspired against such a show of weakness.

Deception was the tactic of ghosts, not venerables.

Thus-

“Venerable one,” said [Eats the Mountain], shaking free of stupor. “No. We will challenge this darkness in your stead. Strangers we may be, but all upon the righteous path are entwined thicker than blood.”

[Peerless Blue Eyes] spoke not out of charity. “Hmph. I would remove this stain.”

Both the [Sixteenth] and [Seventeenth] scions lifted their noses in queer symmetry, speaking, distastefully, as one. “This sixteenth-rate…”

“This seventeenth-rate talent will shame herself by sharing a stage with that…”

“...seventeenth-rate daoist.”

Of this Fu was grateful. These coming deaths were sure to cascade, and to invoke the wrath of two Numbered Clans was to invite - if not ruin - vexation.

Lao Tzu set a hand on [Eats the Mountain’s] shoulder. “This daoist offers his palm. Together, we are the meeting of seas.”

None had remarked at [Silence of the Spectral String’s] departure.

Much light returned to [Venerable Reed Sage] as these offers reached his ears, righting the heavy wrinkles upon brow, cheek and chin. “Righteous souls,” he gasped. “I confess that my conviction is greater than my arm these [Seasons]... gratitude, no, a thousand gratitudes! If naught else, that my words have stirred good souls to action-”

“Be at peace, venerable one. Be at peace,” urged [Eats the Mountain], then set his axe toward Zhu. “Already you defend these [Demonic] ways. If you wish them to remain, which they shall not, lay down your life. We challenge you.”

The crowd, perhaps, cared nothing for such arguments or morality, what incensed them to uproar was the potential of an unrivalled clash. A break from the tedium of peak [Core Formation] or freshly attained immortality.

Zhu tilted his head toward Mingqin, finding that his permission had been granted in small gestures.

As though this development was but the regretful first step on a grand and reaching staircase set before her.

[Peerless White Eyes] stepped to the challenger’s side of the platform and stamped his trident against the ground, throwing a gale. “Move aside. No more than I is required. First and last.”

Several berries entered Zhu’s mouth. “First, last, the City Lord will be displeased. Better that you all come at once. Isn’t it more civil to have this affair over swiftly?”

🀧

The hour that passed was horrifying.

Wet-bursting, dark-seeping, juice-flowing, and with such volume that all this ran down Zhu’s once-pristine features.

Whirlwinds came from [Eat the Mountain’s] axe in motion and creation, obliterating the space that his gargantuan [Spirit Panda] could not with claw and quaking Qi.

More liquid ran, now staining Zhu’s furs.

To temper oneself in the partnership of another was to act as a left fist to their right. In strange company or through fateful encounter the harmony was a thing born of [Prowess], instinct and talent, none of which these immortals lacked.

With grudging forbearance, [Peerless Blue Eyes] and his partnered carp added their own domain of tridents to this cataclysm of blows.

Lao Tzu Path was of [Spiritual] nature. About him flowed a current of [Profundity] so rich it seemed a vast river, deep in meaning, effect and range. Fu felt it a comprehensive thing, seeing each of the daoist’s clashing allies soar in [Mind], [Body], [Spirit] and [Harmony]. More, he was certain, but nothing so important that [Immortal Arbiter’s Soul] took note.

A final burst birthed a final trickle.

Some coagulated mess.

“Our berries are done,” slurred Zhu, his voice a dislocated and multifaceted thing. “Sister, wasn’t this the limit of our time?”

Her wingbeats were clumsy. If one could tell such a thing.

Lightning was not his sphere, yet he shared its immediacy. In one flick he discarded the empty pouch of intoxicating berries and met [Eat the Mountain’s] devastating weapon with a fingertip, having it lock in place.

“[An axe is sharp],” he yawned.

Even immortal perception might not have seen which [Spirit Panda] and cultivator succumbed to first, the platform’s embrace or [Epiphany].

Zhu’s internalized [Dao] need not be shouted. Truth did not lose its nature when whispered. So came his second flick, dispensed at the end of a blur. He appeared within [Peerless Blue Eyes’s] stance as the tip of his finger met this foe’s brow.

“It is as plain as your irises, cultivator. Your Path against the Heavens was rushed. The gaps are as clear as [Spring] dewdrops.”

Then, just so. More so.

[Peerless Blue Eyes] raged his techniques against Zhu, and the gaps became as clear as [Spring] dewdrops.

Clearer.

Tanshuai set down atop his thrashing [Spirit Carp] and it descended with meteoric speed upon the platform. Resonance had its cultivator gasp to a knee, some half hair’s breadth from Zhu’s palm.

“A striking colour,” he said, batting [Peerless Blue Eyes] three layers into the defensive [Arrays].

Lao Tzu stood from the lotus. The current of [Profundity] became a tempest, reinforcing his voice. “Wherever injustice stands, the righteous shall rise to meet it. This daoist glimpses Truth within your Path. How insidious, to clad it in your own colours,” he declared. “Nature’s way is balance. Harmony. The bear takes no more fish than its fill, as do the oriole, crane and hawk stave from bees by merit of their sacred role. To embrace the [Demonic]...”

“Spoken as one with clean nails and pressed robes. Strange that you’ve become deaf to the very words you speak. Your Truth. My Truth. Both are and are not,” interrupted Zhu. “I’ve no more to share, for the truth is not always beautiful, nor beautiful words the truth. Oftentimes, it merely is.”

The daoist received a great press upon his shoulder, a crack, and a darkening of sight swifter than a hummingbird’s wingbeat.

A well-conflicted crowd cheered. Only the Heavens truly knew for what reason.

These broken assailants, by one and in no haste, alleviated themselves of their woes - from three layers of [Arrays], from collapse and from [Epiphany] - taking nigh as long as the match’s duration to do so.

Zhu remained, fresh berries in-hand, for a full conclusion had yet to be reached. Millions, and six, gazes were levied against him. Though these lattermost were closest to him upon the platform, enraged and bewildered.

A bone axe was drawn, and Tanshuai glistened a dust of [Profundity] upon it as he revealed its purpose. “This shall herald a revelation,” came the intonation.

He blurred.

[Eats the Mountain] lifted a guard so slow it could not block sunlight from all beneath it, and Fu pondered how blessed by the Heavens this brute might feel upon realizing Zhu’s motion was not for him.

At ringside, [Venerable Reed Sage’s] palm held the axe at bay with an extremity of [Spatial Qi], and while neither cultivator wobbled, the crowd certainly did.

“Tell me, old one. Is this hidden strength your conviction or your arm? It’s a vexation to tell,” Zhu mused, blurring to his seat thereafter.