Epilogue

The first [Tribulation] was to find him, if a lesser one. Of all locales, all [Mystic Realms], he had favoured [Heartless Mountain] for a time. Then [Myriad Golden Graves], [Soulflame Demonic Expanse], and… in truth, he could recall the supplicants with greater detail.

What backdrop they clashed against was almost irrelevant.

Here in [Fallen Matriarch’s Bones] his vessel drifted, and it was no more than a mundane rowboat. If tethered to the skies. Cloudy banks pushed it aft and fro, lapping gently when a particularly strong gust spilled over.

His line jerked, sounding the silver bell to his rear.

[Cherry River Cloudcaller] retracted his foot from overhead, finishing this graduation of the [True Wind God Arts] with no haste about him. “Another?” he mused, pulling a blossom-patterned cloak over his training robes. “As the moons pass, our role grows busier no?”

A flawless young beauty of granite hair frowned up from her open scroll at the rowboat’s stern. “This cherry-hued mistress would praise this next generation if not for the regular interruptions,” she shared, returning to the scroll. “If necessary, brother, I will descend.”

Fu’s smiling expression passed from Shuidi to Hushi, who eagerly broke from sunning his eight arms. “And you, brother?”

The [Spirit Octopus] lifted his douli and slipped inside.

One step took them over the rowboat’s edge and into a sea of cloud that spanned li after li, chasing the [Dao]-infused line of his positioned rod from top to end. So it was that they arrived some moments after its tug, landing as the bell chimed its final sounds.

He gave the line a second flick, allowing its twang to herald his arrival.

That the supplicant did not leap into the surrounding bone-littered canyons was an admirable start to this. In place of frightful jumps or other such gestures, a bow was delivered at the waist, and on the rise Fu saw the full splendor of this talent.

Red stains hugged her eyelids, marked there by an [Ink] not of the Heaven’s creation. Faded things to signal long vanished Empires and moreso, the trials this Vajra of middling years had faced. At her left side coiled a vast, maroon-scaled serpent and at her right chirped a [Spirit Beetle] of the same colouration.

“Venerable [Cherry River Cloudcaller], this lacking seeker has travelled far for your guidance, yet she would travel further if you were to deem it so,” she said.

The moons that had passed since receiving his station had Fu accept the proffered respect without dispute, thus he merely stroked his whisker.

Ruminating.

“The journey to find us was enough," he answered. “Now, we would know the reason. To see your [Spirit] laid bare, few improvements might be made. The [Dao] are your own, the [Constellation Seeds] within you are flawless as is the height of your Martial [Prowess]. If answers are all that you seek, traveller, then [Cherry River Archivist], Wen Pinxui, could offer more.”

Her head shook. “A thousand apologies, venerable one. No. The answer I seek is one of legacy.”

Fu nodded. “Legacy. You wish to know if you have left enough?”

“I wish to know if all I have is worth leaving.”

[Tribulations] sparked.

Three days passed, and a roar preceded the bell.

The sea of cloud was entered, and again Fu twanged the string.

Here was no cultivator, but a titan atop the mountain of scattered skulls. An existence that ground history’s bones to dust with the mere shift of its step, and lo, on greeting the [Spirit Wolf] loosed a howl that tried well to part his fog.

“Cloudcaller,” came its growl, putting shame to bubbling magma and peaks of fire.

Two teal arms lifted the douli. “Challenger.”

A blaze of [Spiritual] energy coursed across the [Spirit Wolf’s] form, enlarging it further and accentuating each reflection of its cultivation therein. The crown of fire above its four ears, the thousand tongues upon its bristles and the ever-shifting taijutu marked at its forehead.

“Look upon divinity’s kin, for it has voyaged a dozen [Seasons] to quash these echoes. Tales of a beast with sharper fang than I! You, [Dao-Named] as you are, have stood for some mere seventy moons. Your mother’s milk fills my nostrils. Of all martial warriors, I stand highest,” roared the beast. “Face me.”

Hushi’s mirth grew as he became the [Tribulation].

So rose a fifth day, a sixth and seventh. On the eighth came more. At the ninth there was a stretch of rare tranquility.

The tenth differed greatly.

It came with gilded chests and palanquins. With banners, warships and cultivators enough to inhale his sea of clouds.

This chime irked Shuidi greatest.

Yes when this bell chimed it was at the hand of one that misunderstood greatly the role of the [Cherry River Cloudcaller], for it was a chattering servant that swiftly departed from view once done.

“Great sages of [Tribulation], you are greeted by the [Mercurial Sun Emperor],” bowed a second, gesturing then to the fleet of laden vessels behind this most golden and ostentatious flagship. “Here, a small gift to remedy whatever interruption we might have caused.”

Fu landed on the deck and about him uncountable knees bent. Cultivators of many stripes and immortals both. At their center rested a weathered, imperious man of dense scowl and hound-sized [Spirit Lizards].

Rarely did it benefit one to judge a tome by its cover, and yet-

“This cherry-hued mistress expresses her confusion,” delivered Shuidi. “Do all here intend to weather our gifts?”

The central figure, throne-seated, frowned. “It is I, [Mercurial Sun Emperor] that sought you out. It is I, [Mercurial Sun Emperor] that intends to put forth this offer,” he intoned. “There will be much honor in this act, [Cherry River Cloudcaller], and one-sided benefit. To be known to my Mercurial Sun Empire as friend, well, are the rewards not clear?”

“The Heavens do not often take sides, cultivator,” hummed Shuidi. “And we, even less.”

A cunning smile split the Emperor’s lips. “No sides need be taken. Think of this only as a gift… venerable ones. The Cherry River was not as it once was. The Clear Sky was not as it once was. Serpents are absent. No [Plum Axe] remains. Even the once-great Vajra Lords are reduced in number. Fate is ours to seize, Cloudcaller, and we may write the future as we wish!”

Shuidi hummed dismissively. “Yet you would begin this tale with unsolicited gifts, bribery and an insult to our order? Perhaps [Mercurial Sun Emperor] has not considered this well.”

“Insult? Long have we awaited the Clear Sky’s decline. For hundreds of moons have we considered. I, a [Primordial Lord] to rival you, [Lords of Tribulation]. The honor of our offered presence is-”

The wind suddenly blew sweetly across this realm and the three cherry-hued souls ceased listening. A finger was lifted in scolding fashion, silencing whatever nonsense this fool of a bygone age had tried to voice, and Fu turned.

Fragrant rice carried upon the breeze, as did skewered pork and rich sesame buns. Scents to have the mouth water and the heart grow soft.

“The [Season] ends soon,” he said, popping in his pipe.

[Mercurial Sun Emperor] looked affronted. “Wisdom, is it? If you seek to share insight venerable one, it is welcome, yet I have travelled far to speak of other matters. The [Season] ends soon,” he repeated. “Do you mean to say that the old [Season] has passed, and we will begin another? Yes. Yes. Then indeed, the [Season] ends soon.”

Shuidi noted, with disdain, how widespread this foolish Emperor’s fleet truly was. Thousands upon thousands continued to arrive and unfold from spatial devices, populated by immortals of very regal bearing.

It evoked a small memory of Pillars, Thrones and Strife.

“The Jianghu has known fragile peace since that day,” he noted, speaking half-aloud. “This accumulation, your strength, Emperor, is enough to upset it. We will not bless your plans, nor join them, only demand that you carry them out justly. There are those that crisis must not touch.”

This Emperor made to speak, and showed his first wisdom by refraining to do so. For long moments he considered these words. “There is a saying about those that walk by the river, venerable one.”

“Just so,” Fu nodded. “But there is a difference between those that choose to walk there and those that have the river thrust upon them. As the one that sets its flow, I would warn you now.”

Of these thousands upon thousands, none recoiled nor murmured to hear such a threat. Tales had reached all corners of the Jianghu about [Cherry River Cloudcaller’s] humble nature, and how he forgave slights that would spell doom if offered to any another.

Yet so too did they know his status.

Here, [Mercurial Sun Emperor] departed this throne. “I will strive to uphold this.”

“See that you do,” hummed Shuidi. “This is the way of [Tribulations]. Our rivers and lakes are a sea, and calm seas only foster poor sailors. Gratitude, self-named Emperor, for in this offering of tumultuous times, you honor us. Now, farewell, a far more crucial moment awaits.”

The wind stole them away before further words might be shared, and only the most talented among these souls might have noticed its grin.

🀨

Mists played upon forest, peak and street for some thousand li about the Jade Songbird Province, yet their greatest intrusion on the citizens’ daily lives was not sky-blocking fog or unnavigable gloom through which to walk.

Merely, soggy hanfu.

Whatever influence the [Divine] bones of the Golden Merchant Canton had once contained in yestermoons had waned, and the population of this once-forced diaspora rarely had cause to remark upon it.

A provenance aside: the text came from NovelPhoenix without the author's permission. Reading the story there supports the writer.

For the [Cherry River Cloudcaller], though untroubled by mists, was glad that it would not impede this evening’s festivities.

“For you, cultivator,” chirped a young boy, almost upon arrival, grabbing his sleeve. “My father sells the best fireworks in all of Golden Songbird City! Come, come!”

Fu bought a bundle, grinning wide as the mortified father tried to kowtow for his son’s poor manners and worse skills in recognition. So it repeated for the young couple selling steamed buns, the elderly crone with hard-boiled sweets and the girl that had hand-sewn middling quality cloaks to ward off [Autumn’s] chill.

Indeed, the city was alive. Ablaze in happenings.

Shuidi’s hum was melodic as they walked the marble pathways with gentle haste, pausing only when they reached one of the city’s busier plazas. Crowds of citizens stood there, gazes skyward, thick enough to congest the approach.

The sounds of small trouble echoed ahead, and Mingqin’s guards turned from their stations to intercept it.

Two rushed by, and halted.

“Patriarch!” remarked the first, a woman of thick brows and [Spirit Snail] partnership. “The Patriarch of Cloud Dragon Hall blesses us with his presence. Please, do not trouble yourself with this scene. We have it in hand.”

Her partner, a wolfish, slender woman of greying hair and no visible partner, slapped her shoulder. “Have more respect, pup. That is not the Patriarch of Cloud Dragon Hall,” she said, forcing her head into a bow. “That is the [Cherry River Cloudcaller].”

The first’s eyes widened. “It is?” she cried, dropping to a knee. “A thousand apologies. This youth-”

Footsteps approached, stifling her words.

“That is neither, juniors,” offered a familiar voice. “No. I do not believe I see [Cherry River Cloudcaller], nor the Patriarch. No, that is Gao Fu, and what you delay him from… hah, he would destroy Heaven and Earth for this moment. Count your blessings.”

Fu dipped his douli. “Friend Sikou.”

“Friend Fu,” he said, sharing this affirmation with his three [Spirit Wolves]. “Another [Season] comes to an end.”

“That it does,” Fu smiled. “Give my regards to Guard Captain Tu. In fact, give my regards to Isuel, Fen and all within the Phoenix Melody Coalition. Though perhaps spare me from Lianshi’s thoughts, just this once.”

A hand bid him away, and with simple gestures the two guards parted the pavilion's crowds so he might pass on. “The City Lord herself would not intrude on this day. They are unnecessary, but measures have been taken that you might rest- this once.”

“Kindness, friend Sikou. We will take our leave,” offered Hushi, lifting the douli’s brim to speak.

Warding arms, if gently presented, parted all those that stood before him, as did softer words dismiss the opportunistic merchants that recognised his face. To their surprise, he stopped for many. A portly man hawking sublime spirit wine found himself immensely richer for the chance, as did the [Spirit Serpent] accompanied woman selling crowns of fresh lotus.

To each he gave a fair chance, an inspection and verdict, paying not from charity but as the reward for labour spent.

For those that had barely toiled over their craft, his frown was gift enough.

“Master Gao. I- Uh, forgive this…” boldly chirped his first escort, softening when she saw his smile. “Was this not a day for haste? We can move faster if you wish?”

He took a long stroke of his whisker, pondering the question for all the steps it took to arrive before a singular grand gate. Here roamed dense mists, and Shuidi sighed as she remedied this for their escorts’ benefit.

“There was a time when I wore myriads hats,” he said, tapping the douli. “When I would stand in this very spot and breathe long breaths, willing the filth of one’s grime to wash free so I might don another.”

The escorts looked rightfully perplexed, as if some grand insight was to be found here.

“Now that I wear but one, my time is abundant.”

If nothing else, the [Spirit Snail] on the first’s shoulder nodded. “The tree that does not bend in the wind is soon untroubled by storm and gale, Words spoken by our grandmother.”

“An insightful woman, your grandmother,” agreed Fu. “We have often found it unwise to ignore the sayings of elders.”

Hands were clasped in farewell, leaving the three alone before this august gate. Hushi trailed a singular arm-tip over the intricate markings there, tracing the many inlaid clouds until they conspired at the base of a dragon’s tail.

It did not break their stride, in truth, it only increased.

An impeccably tended approach welcomed their step over the threshold, and they drank deep of the familiar mists that swept across his home. Mists rolled across the foliage, across the vast lakes, gentle gardens and twinned great bridges at his east and west.

The disparity between sides had Shuidi nod, despite their differences.

Aunty Quan’s east was unusually quiet as her thousand wards were warned against noise and nuisance, settling - as [Senses] described - with blankets across the sprawling range of her spacious orphanage.

Somewhere in their midst an aged catfish regaled them with tales, and the absence in Fu’s [Primordial Constellation Gate] warmed as they grew nearer.

Across the other bridge, Chan Gui and the Baotaoi twins continued to drill. The [True Wind God Arts] thrust perfect gales across his lakefront, then ceased all at once. Without word the Elders of Cloud Dragon Hall, the First Clouds, stalled their motions.

Offering a distant bow of welcome.

Of all these wonders, the greatest lay ahead. Tallest of these interconnected gardens, pavilions, and structures, yet most meagre in scale. [Spirit Carp] leapt up the waterway by his homeward path, splashing water upon the mundane gravel and stone that led there.

Gao Fu stood there, pipe fuming.

[Cherry River Cloudcaller] met him, and matched his gaze across their domain.

The [Heartplume of Clouded Schisms] erupted between them, cracking such an immediacy of lightning and thunder that the prevailing mists cleared for several li about them.

[Cherry River Cloudcaller] passed the responsibility of his mantle over as their memories reached equilibrium, and yet- “A gap in knowledge. We withhold something from ourselves?” said he that had approached.

“This once,” shared the second Hushi. “Brace.”

“Brace? There is news then?”

Each half swapped places, feeling the [Dao] within their shared hearts build. “Merely a thing we will be grateful to have heard for the first time, twice. Each [Season] leaves us fuller than the last, and this… We will await our second reaction when [Winter] comes, though the burden of such joy may be too great to bear.”

Wind whisked [Cherry River Cloudcaller] away.

Gao Fu, Gao Hushi and Gao Shuidi sifted through all that had transpired this past [Season]. On the unparalleled warmth. On Yuqi’s laughter. The level of mastery that Yuling and Yasodhara had reached in this brief absence. Each tale, smile and embrace that he had missed, and not, for in that moment they had been present for it all.

“Surely it is gluttony to be so blessed?” he asked the Heavens, caring not if they would deign to reply.

A whistle ascended into the skies above, bursting ten thousand, thousand coloured streaks against the full, Lunar [Autumn] moon.

The festival was underway.

Fu hastened into his home courtyard, crossing ornate bridges until he he came to a stony overlook at the shores of his lake. A teal firepit washed the area in gentle light, offering as little warmth to any there as the blankets and shawls draped across them.

Though this did not diminish their tradition.

Some small change came from Shuidi as she diminished into her [Spirit Crab] form, and scuttled with preternatural grace below the thinnest of shawls beside Yuling wherein she nestled with comfortable embrace.

Fu stole behind his family, delivering a silent kiss to each head in turn as not to distract from the show above, No sooner had he reached the end than was a bottle of spirit wine placed in his palm, and Zhu’s arm clasped his own.

“A good [Season]?” he asked, eyes skyward.

“All [Seasons] are good,” smiled Fu. “Though if you ask for news of note, I have little. Another Empire seeks to wage war over the Clear Sky’s scraps? You might have enjoyed their style. Sun cultivators with blackened hanfu and gold trim. A smattering of the One Hundred and Eight visited this time, wishing to battle insights. Quite enjoyable, this new generation, they hold fresh thoughts on things. And you?”

Tanshuai landed on the underside of his douli, settling in for the night at Hushi’s bidding.

“Do you like the wine? Its infused with a fruit from beyond known borders, taken from a tribe that speak only in their dreams. The Jianghu seems to expand with each step we take, and… its a wonder.”

Their bottles clinked.

This held an effect that both men cringed for, given how the sound roused the pair of sleeping babes atop Kang Jae’s shoulder. His glare was volcanic as his children’s screams rose to a pitch to rival [Demonic] war cries.

Fu half bowed in apology, and were he mortal, might well have been pushed from balance.

Shaokang and Waipi rushed by, moving from their cold-stared haunt at the back of the Gao’s gathering. “Master Gao, the sanctity of these treasures’s rest ought not to be disturbed,” he grunted, looming his ogrish frame over Jae.

The few-[Season]-old babes cooed to see their uncle, and more so as Waipi’s indomitable jaws spread wide to growl his reassurance.

From the blanket aside Yuqi, An stirred. Her eyes creaked open with the same, slow rise of her [Spirit Fox], Guanxin’s, lids. “Oh? Did they rouse? Jae-”

“They are fine, my sweet,” her husband answered swiftly. “Please, all is in hand.”

A meaty hand enveloped the first twin, and Shaokang drew the babe to his shoulder. His other hand went to Jae’s shoulder. “We will walk for a thousand li to soothe them. Come.”

Both men nodded their resolve, fiery as it was against the foil of all parents- immortal or not. Myriad satchels appeared from their spatial rings, and much fuss was had as the pair inspected threefold the meh dai fastened around their respective chests, ensuring knots were tied and panels were where they ought to be.

“Bah, oafs,” came a sweet hum.

A pristinely imperfect form gracefully hurried from the screen behind, leaving Mubu and Changkuai in tow to wrestle with a dozen laden bowls. Hua’s hair was greying, as was her skin matronly, yet it held a flush of radiance beyond the seamless benefits of cultivation. No longer was her hanfu tightly bound, nor her preparation lined and flawless, thus it did not smear as she raised both babes to her cheek in embrace.

“Hush, little ones. Hush. Godmother Hua is here to take you from these insensitive brutes,” she crooned, turning to brutes in question. “Go, this is a time for family.” More starlight twinkled in her irises upon seeing Fu than he could recall, and her hum now was one of warm shooing.

The [Cherry River Cloudcaller] had already acknowledged this wisdom, but would not be rude to the final members of this party. At the edge of this gathering, included yet undraped, Eighty Seventh Bhandana and his [Spirit Bats] observed the myriad explosions above.

Reds overcame him, and in turn, vibrant yellows, teals, whites and all colours washed across his chiselled featured to highlight a barely concealed grin. “Gao Fu. Another [Season], and indeed, another moon!”

Fu allowed the impact borne from the man’s colossal back pat. “Bhandana. Kin of my kin. Ever do I enjoy your enthusiasm. By memory, we spoke but moments ago.”

“True, yes, true. But this eighty-seventh rate friend still struggles to comprehend the nature of your talents, and so- well, it is no burden to repeat my enthusiasm!”

For a man whose smile never falters, it is wider this night than any other.

Small wisps of Qi entered Bhandana’s hand, showing two small envelopes there, dyed in the colour of fortune. “Udvah sends his regards. The [Golden Sanctuaries Monk]... for all he and his order do, this is the least of what we Vajra might do in turn. He regrets he cannot make it.”

“Aarushi holds him busy,” smiled Fu. “Our Paths are so dissimilar, as if opposing peaks, yet I value my smiling brother the more for it.”

Bhandana’s strange smile grew thin, if momentarily. “As he does you. [Tribulation] and [Sanctuary] are not mutually arising forces, Gao Fu. To speak of one righteous, kind soul, world-serving soul is to speak of you both. That is why I am filled with pride to…”

“Something is afoot, friend,” questioned Fu. An assassin’s glare was as sharp as any jian, and here he levied it against the mass of his blanket-covered family.

To Yuling and Nuwang who spouted fake remarks about saber-work to Yasodhara and a queerly jovial Samudra. With a soft stroke Yuqi tended to the again-dozing An, and the daydreaming Yiji was too enraptured by the display to notice the weight of Fu’s intent.

Hua sang sweetly some strides away, quirking a devilish brow.

Zhu and Hushi merely lifted their bottles, tilting the napes towards the last of his well-covered family.

Sister. Brother. What is this?

“This cherry-hued mistress will allow you to put in your eyes,” hummed Shuidi.

[Senses] returned to him.

Fireworks continued to erupt above, and yet none might say if Fu’s thunderous step had come first.

The culmination of his Path was that of lightning’s swiftness, thus he was there in a moment, crossing the boundaries of space with such speed all blankets were thrust into the moonlit skies. He arrived on a knee, eyes widening as his outstretched palm trembled.

“Father,” laughed Feng, having the long wisps of his splendid moustache shake with mirth. “There comes a greater [Tribulation] than the last.”

Eighty Seventh Ruoxuan snuggled closer to Feng, lifting her head partways. “Father-in-law,” she chuckled. “It is not improper for family to look,” she said, grasping his hand and lowering it to her near-flat stomach.

A faint heartbeat pulsed there.

A precious little drum that had him cease his own storming beat as not to drown so miraculous a sound.

“Son! Daughter!” he cried. “Is it true? Is there such a good thing?”

His family swarmed, laughing riotously as he spun and shook, grinned and cackled amongst the sea of beloved faces.

“Such wonder! This news, it makes all the stars in the sky pale in comparison. My Feng, my Ruoxuan! I am to be-”

Mubu clapped him on the back. “Like us, and not, son-in-law. The most joyous existence beneath these Heavens. A Grandfatherly [Asura].”