Chapter Two Hundred and Forty Six - Cheat

Conversations of ants often arose.

Mortal sentiment, and how when lost, became mortal detachment.

Fu, Hushi and Shuidi knew not the answer, having ceded the right to such conversations some myriad [Seasons] ago. A first kill within the [Thousand Shore Mystic Realm] and the cascade that had fallen from it.

All that had stained their hands were uncountable, and yet, these [Primordial Lords of Tribulation] were quite certain they had never killed with such dispassion as this.

A thin line to tread and an unnecessary one at that. If we have, or will become the same breed as this heartless [Cherry River Sword], then it is for reason enough. Merely, the scale of this has winded us.

A way existed to escape this.

“This Gao Shuidi will do so, brothers. Few else might accomplish such a feat, thus this peerless mistress asks that you appreciate the extent of her talents.”

Could either Fu or Hushi dip their respect, they would. It seemed, for all the Cherry River Loyalist’s imposed control, one’s [Inner Qi], [Channels] and [Meridians] could not be touched.

And an inwards glance could do much.

[Primordial Law] sparked within as Shuidi’s [Mind] detached from her partners, beginning a great work. Fu’s blood writhed to know he could do nothing as she attempted this, but watch.

Then came the grand opening move in this perverse impossibility.

Jade Songbird Province- no, to see this now marked the entirety of the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture within both the confines of Bingbai’s [Array] and the board of Chutu Deqiang’s partner’s earth-like shell.

Thus the movement quaked.

Within the sphere of their [Senses] the initial stampede came oddly and terrifyingly swift, as though these thousands upon thousands upon further thousands were yanked forth by an oiled chain, dragged into position one step further.

“Intersection, youngling. Need you an explanation?”

I would not distract Shuidi from her pursuit with more input that might be mustered. Yet, my gratitude is ever plentiful.

The Old One seemed disappointed, but held his peace.

Across the sphere of this board Fu was certain a great obstacle existed, though its nebulous nature made it hard to glean. A river, mountain or chasm. It was towards this the second move occurred, mirroring the first.

The douli blocked what role his contingent filled, but this was not his own. Qirin, perhaps, or Dragon. More time would be granted if he fell beneath the role of [Gleeful Viper] or [Thrice Clouded Boa’s] Advisor, certainly.

These armadas of Cherry hugged the obstacle, lopsided by the absence of their three sword-faded allies.

Delay.

Fu strained his [Senses] to the opposing side, hearing a distant hum. So familiar as so disdainful it lightened his heart to know he was not on the receiving end of it.

“Bah. No,” answered Hua, forcefully clear enough that all pawns heard.

In response, Chutu Deqiang swept a dramatically angry hand. His mouth moved with fury, but in such silence he looked more as if he was trying to exorcise a sesame seed from his gums than deliver some dignified reply.

“Lo, as you have made a game of this. Fathomless cruelty. The thrice-bound serpent shares in me, now, agreement. What hypocrisy you show, little brothers. A sword, a spear, a cauldron. By the [Boundless Dao], this act should change you to flint, stick and bowl, for all [Profundity] the Heavens have granted you are undone by this moment! Fools. The [Cherry River Sage] will not secure your victory.”

Such words lit thunder in the innumerable surrounding [Spirits], if only they might move to show it.

Delay.

[Cherry River Fool] trilled a laugh. “How passionless this game is.”

A distortion overcame Chariot, thus a distortion overcame Fu. As if the Heavens themselves had sentenced the earth below to move, the entirety of his role’s mass was blurred halfway across the great shell.

Such swiftness did not trouble him, yet all about them coughed blood from unmoving forms to have it trickle and stain their myriad robes.

His own move had brought him closer to the forefront.

To the obstacle that this opposing Soldier has just leapt, landing them squarely before his own Chariot. Indeed he had played enough poor games of Go to know the obvious move was often not the logical move.

A moment of haste or temptation could launch a thousand countermoves, routes or traps. An unforeseen gap in defense. One might play into the opponents hand as easily as a poor martial step might spill one’s throat.

So saying, these parties remained locked in stalemate.

Trapped.

Powerless.

Balanced on the whim or tactical acumen of those that cared only for a throne.

Sister. Perhaps now is the time?

Fu’s chain arrived in his hand, hoisted as if a juvenile was to hold his first knife. Pointed outwards like a mere implement. No masterful blow, and yet, none forced there had any choice in how their bodies moved.

Chariot blurred once more, loosing annihilation from Warships, [Spirit Beasts] and simple, mechanical strokes from all upon the ground. No burst of light or [Profundity], [Array] or damning formation touched those within the allied unit, and so Fu found himself wrenched into the once-occupied space amidst a madness of light and gentle heat.

Once settled, crimson mist was all that remained.

It… it mattered not their skill. Their [Martial Prowess] or cultivation. Indeed we saw the banners of legendary factions there, and yet- powerless.

Sister. Haste.

🀧

The Old One watched with emphatic attention, as though he were removed from matters of Chariots and Generals. For each move across two dozen, only six further roles fell. Soldiers were first, and yet one contingent swallowed a Dragon upon Cherry’s side, if only to be claimed by a dancing Qirin.

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Shuidi’s efforts neared completion, and yet Fu felt these birthed more blood than any annihilation this massacre had seen yet.

He would not stand if this [Primordial] game of Xiangpi did not forbid him from death, and having overcome death myriad times now, he thought this cruelest and most inconvenient of all.

Through bleary eyes he and Hushi watched a swift ascent of Cherry’s Chariot across the central obstacle, bringing it within a rearward, ten-pointed area now known as a Palace. No Advisor nor General could move beyond this perimeter.

[Primordial Qi] continually surged through his [Channels], mending much of the turmoil that Shuidi called forth.

It granted enough clarity to listen.

“Hye-hye-hye, indeed,” answered the [Plum Axe], though the original question was unknown. “They do not possess my hubris! My vanity! The tenets of your Order grow flimsy, Loyalists! You turn this into a dull affair.”

The [Cherry RIver Fool] sounded by his side, chuckling. Unbound by any [Law].

Fu’s own formation did not move, though he saw its tearing swiftness beyond the obstacle.

A dry hum filled the skies.

“[The four aspects move through eight gates. Overcoming. Dispersing. Pooling. Engulfing. Dancing. Jutting. Resting. Warming. Storming. But from whence do they spring, not eternal, in flux? To all things come their [Season], to all aspects, their inciting moment. Yet the origin remains,” intoned [Gleeful Viper].

Three of the [Cherry River], despite all changes, had not conjured such [Profundity] when they spoke.

“The serpent dares,” iced a coldness from [Cherry River Sword].

Second Elder of the Cloudy Serpent Sect and First Young Mistress, [Gleeful Viper] hissed. “One’s heart is the Heavens. To love oneself as the Earth is to feel its every throe, to nurture one’s passions is to bend the very stars,” she finished. “[Primordial Law of Love].”

The deaf then, could hear her heartbeat.

A thing to bask in.

A thing akin to a sun’s warmth or a woollen swaddle upon an infant’s skin.

Shuidi gasped from her inner workings against some eldritch burst of [Spirit]. A rumbleless quake focused upon Cherry’s last-to-move [Chariot] that did not so much worm into every pour as bludgeon meteors into their [Spiritual] defences.

What suspension held them upright became a thing Fu succumbed to, for here he fell against it without struggle. Held there as a prisoner of his own flesh, his [Mind] approximated a great and dread inspired sigh.

This power… her insight…

Blood trickled from his ears as [Gleeful Viper’s] heartbeat continued to thrum.

How wrong it is. To succeed the Hollow Throne- what will the Jianghu become if she is to sit upon it? Sister, brother, we must blind ourselves fully to escape this. It must be done. To fight against these perverse futures, no less is required.

Swiftly, their gaze went inward.

Fu and Hushi saw then the devastation Shuidi had brought upon them. The mess of half-shattered [Meridians] and pain-strewn [Channels] that she had ravaged with an influx of [Divine Qi].

The evidence of myriad lesser [Tribulations] used to hasten the process of cultivation.

Not of [Body], [Mind] or [Harmony], for no escape was promised with the mere increase to any attribute.

No.

They sought to temper the dragon of [Divine Qi] within them and inter it, impossibly, in the [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud].

A crutch, no? That these Cherry River Tyrants will not allow us to die.

Hushi did not share his false mirth.

[Primordial Law of Tribulations].

🀧

One could not describe the pain, and so the three comprising the Fatherly [Asura] merely dragged their inferno of ephemeral flesh forward.

A [Tribulation] of [Constitution] had ever been a martial thing.

No ink-licked list stood within Cloud Dragon Hall detailing the confines or experiences of their [Primordial Law]. None need stand, for the [Immortal Arbiter’s Soul] - their [Spirit]- held accounts of all things, all [Trials].

As could they design their own.

Something else had designed this.

Amidst the prevailing torture of their inner workings Fu held little outward sight. An awareness of haze, yes, and a hardness underfoot that put into queer balance the impression he held of the [Primordial Realm], thinking this the most apt similarity.

An incline began towards a distance he could not measure or pierce, towards a mist of stairs and hemmed in edges.

One the [Dao of Four Horizons], nor any [Art] or technique could hasten his arrival at.

This too was [Tribulation].

Days passed that he did not have.

[Seasons].

Moons.

The only mark of time was this first encounter. A spectre of sharpened blades, bare-chested and cherry-hued, sat in the lotus position to block his path. About it, a monstrous dolphin-framed [Spirit Precursor] swam.

“Who approaches this Transcendent seat?” they called as one.

“The Fatherly [Asura],” came their reply as one. “[Tribulation’s] seat.”

They stood there for a moon and a [Season], no less.

Silent.

Measuring.

“Name, of all the Jianghu’s blessed peaks, which stands greatest.”

Fu dipped his head. “That which we have yet to reach.”

A misty, golden jian thrust itself into Shuidi’s carapace as this spectre of sharpened blades faded from sight. Then further moons passed, innards-wrecked and blade-carrying, while these three souls progressed upward.

In time there showed the second encounter, now a mist-wrapped ribbon affixed to a solitary pole and the [Spirit Ant] at rest atop it.

“Who approaches Belief’s own seat?” the insect spoke alone.

Shuidi gave their answer.

“When the eternal sun bars your way, what would you ask of it?”

Hushi dipped now. “That it excuses the day our cloud will remove it from sight.”

To speak of suns was apt, for its very conflagration overcame the Fatherly [Asura] at the edge of tremendous knuckles.

This they bore onward.

Third met was a trunk possessing the serenity of the Heavens, bearing tusks and mists that held no more darkened tinge than they did light.

“Who approaches Equilibrium’s seat?”

An answer was given.

“Amitabha. The more one enriches themselves, the more impoverished they become. By what right do you demand this [Tribulation]?”

Engulfed in his pain, the sea of fire and blades upon him, Fu paused. “Because no less than this is required.”

[Fourth Under Heaven’s] spectre offered no pain, and merely faded into unmoving breeze.

Thus, they continued.

From [Cherry River Doctor] they suffered Reflection, delivering unto them as many needles as their blade had ever swung.

From [Cherry River Spear], a cruelty of Order, manifesting as a qiang thrust deep through one shoulderblade.

An axe was gifted from the one of Plum, matching the agony on his left with his right.

From [Cherry River Alchemist], then, a question. “To the one that approaches Plausibility’s seat, do you believe this possible?”

Something distantly snapped.

Hushi, Shuidi and Fu were a tangle of bloodless limbs upon the ground, knelt unwillingly before the cherry-hued executioner. The question burned more than their incandescent flesh, more than spear, axe and jian’s edge.

Possible?

No word yet existed to describe this torment. How excruciating… how insufferable… how, yes… how impossible this scene had become.

But for the [Cherry River Alchemist] to offer these words…

This cherry-hued spectre was no real soul, but a vestige, guardian or manifestation of the realm bearer’s [Primordial Law].

It desired no conversation, and yet-

“You dare?” hummed Shuidi, rising.

Fu’s singular laugh and heartbeat became the same drum of thunder. The manifestation was already fading, and so he cast his address to the realm at large. “The impossible. To think a shade of the Cherry River could believe in such a word.”

“Nephew, are you speaking ill of your elders?” scolded the [Cherry River Fool]. Her pageantry was no thing of spectres and falsehood. Nor was the leg-hugging [Spirit Bear] beneath her misty daxuishuan. “Would that not be foolish?”

“Of all souls, you would know, venerable aunt.”

The two parties shared a mirthful look.

“Ahem, who approaches Quintessence’s seat?” she asked.

While laughter had fled, thunder still beat within. The [Immortal Arbiter’s Soul] had tasted of this [Tribulation], of this plausibility, and consumed it readily. To ask if a thing was possible… had any question ever sounded so blind?

“Those that embody the limitless nature of the world,” came Fu’s answer.

[Cherry River Fool] strode forth until warm breath was upon their nose. With a swiftness rivalled only by the wind, she reached through the engulfing flames and pinched each in turn, fading thereafter.

The passing moons became but [Seasons] as they limped ahead, and became mere hours beyond that.

Those that blocked their ascent now were two sides of a distorted mirror. A novelty, perhaps, that they shared this stage. That they weathered the presence of the other. Then, perhaps not, for their domains were not as dissimilar as the uninitiated might think.

These mists bore serpents and two clouded figures.

“Who approaches Terror’s seat?” spoke the first. As did the second, in equal time, ask “Who approaches Love’s seat?”

Fu answered.

“To what-”

“Beneath these-”

Hushi lifted one arm, silencing [Thrice Clouded Boa] and [Gleeful Viper’s] representations of [Primordial Law]. “It matters not, for we are not beholden to these domains. Strike, beneficial serpents, and darken this path no longer.”

Then came imminently bearable fangs.

[Immortal Arbiter’s Soul] beat steadily as the final ascent was made, or indeed, reached. Banks of rolling fog lapped about an open, colourless field, and where the final three stood was a great deal brighter than any step before.

East and west stood [Cherry River Pilgrim] and [Cherry River Monk]. Small was their acknowledgement.

A thing that might be missed should one look elsewhere.

“Bah,” said the [Cherry River Sage], softly. “Who but you would do this so harshly? There is no need to announce yourself, Gao Fu, Hushi and Shuidi, we know who it is you are.”

Here, the three of the Fatherly [Asura] clasped.

[Ink] burned.

Greater than it ever had before.