Chapter Two Hundred and Forty Two - Devastation of Harmony

Plum Phoenix Mei’s face held vacant for many moments, then came a whirl that bisected the [Cherry River Spear] disciple’s arm. From the tip of his lowered qiang to his shoulder, the entirety was cut in symmetrical halves.

Such an escalation of violence was… so insignificant.

All about this vast tournament there came troubled murmurs and rushing forms, though Fu saw clearly the mastery of Bingbai’s talent. Only the powerful were of enough worth to glean his [Array], for all others, naught had changed.

They were heedless of these myriad suns and the titanic tongues that licked this realm.

A question of natures rose then, for as some ten thousand independent factions blurred towards the skyline in query, Mingqin stood tall to address a crowd that knew not of the impending peril.

“Citizens, honoured guests, travelling venerables, I beseech your calm,” so her melody carried to all corners. “Some portent has fallen about us, and shall be swiftly remedied. The tournament shall pause for short moments.”

Falsehoods.

Pretence.

But she that struck first, lost.

Zhu in all his growing love for mystery had once debated a name with Wen Pinxui. To what title would this day be ascribed? When the brushes of myriad scribes poured forth and praised these hopes and tragedies?

The [Hollow Throne] War, undoubtedly. The Second [Summer] of Sorrow, perhaps.

Yet this moment, and all coming-

The Thirteenfold Catastrophes. Foregoing all other factions, these thirteen practices shall be the end of all within this [Array]. To look beyond material forces and more to Path, the preparations of millennia and the abandonment of righteousness. Where are the fools that dare strike now?

“Well,” thundered an encapsulating laugh. “The stage is set.” Long was atop the table before their seats, inanely kicking the platters, wines and chalices upon it as he splayed his arms wide. “A good time to unveil all things, no?”

Plum Phoenix Mei whirled Heavenward despite his words, and this drew all eyes to the split in the skies above. Errant lightning strayed across the thirteen realms as if desperate to maintain the connection between immortal and domain, then swiftly fell to flames, consuming the space between both.

Only two remained.

“The poor serpent and the knuckle dragger,” she spat. “Father! Do you allow this?”

[Thrice Clouded Bao’s] veil covered her features, if any change had indeed occurred. Those upon the [Cherry River Fist’s] were as plain as a fire in one’s home.

He looked once at his immortal compatriots.

Twice.

Huffed. “Thus arrives the extent of this fist’s patience for scheming.” From his floating lotus one arm gently extended, placing his fist horizontal.

Devastation came with all the effort of one shrugging free a fly.

The Heavens trembled as a horizon-shattering knuckles manifested within them, possessing of a scale that left no eye unmolested by cherry sheen. A thing of endings and certainty- a thing of titans and ancient ruinage that produced unearthly sounds upon meeting the [Immortal Judgement Sunshine Array’s] boundary.

Foundations crumbled. Tempests loosed. The aftershock of its conjuration blew thousands upon thousands of cultivators to the ground as coronas and maelstroms of conflicting light fizzled out in the skies above.

Yet Bingbai’s work did not fade.

“Oh? How nefarious,” he yawned.

“Hye-hye-hye! Nefarious, yes, and this act of mortal trickery-” [Plum Axe Zhu] gestured to all of [Thrice Clouded Boa’s] remaining domain. “-is it intended to skew our suspicions? Yes, let me see you sever all allegiances, it would be quite the insight!”

As one, the tide of spectators still reeled from [Cherry River Fist’s] manifestation. Things however, still moved throughout them.

The Fatherly [Asura’s] swiftness saw this much, barely, and anticipation grew for all they might not notice.

“Inwhat sequence will they strike, this wizened master might ponder? Does brother Zhu still hold a wager?”

Hushi impressed a nod.

“Unsporting then, to change it at this hour?”

A second nod was impressed.

Ice found Fu’s spine at the next utterance from above. As if despair itself sought fit to address all beneath it. “Fist. Axe. So short-sighted. To skew? To twist? Know now, grace-fallen fools- know now the magnanimity of this great seat. A gift. A truth. For when my move comes none shall yet bear the will to withstand it.”

As charitable a declaration as any here will receive, in truth.

Her [Dao of Terror] clung deep to these words, driving each syllable towards one’s [Spirit] as if encroaching needles.

Shallowly. Passively.

How ruinous it would be when focused.

Then, of all things, a gong sounded. “Amitabha. Forgive this fourth-rate daoist’s intrusion. The venerable sister-cloud is wise. Speech without delusion, such is the way. To balance her selflessness, all must bear their truth.” A wave of his elephantine hands rippled a second gong strike outward, and the flaming horizons had a shade grow upon them.

Spokes burst across the Heavenly Roaming Prefecture, eightfold in number and held in tether by a great taijutu at its center, summarising a spectral wheel of Heavenly scale.

[Ink] thundered before them, accompanied by a voice of no ascribed gender, tone or emotion within.

Perhaps it was mortal to believe so, but Fu witnessed twelve immortals flinch.

It was then the wheel turned and in its great rotation pulled spectral bubbles from each of the innumerable souls below them. These came as softened, gold things, though the frame was of no importance when faced with the content of characters within.

[Fourth Under Heaven] whisked a great score into his elephantine palm from nearby stratas.

Fu watched his own extract without any means of retrieval. Be it [Dao], [Law] or [Heavenly Talent], he held no control over it.

The bubble above Zhu somewhat wobbled before flying free.

“[Verdant Tided Mare]. Amithabha. A noble [Heritage],” he said of one cultivator. “Block the serpents from further polluting the equilibrium of beasts.Benefactors to all, it seems. The [Boundless Dao] would smile on this- if not for its vanity.”

Then- “[Sixteenth Under Heaven], cousins of this fourth-rate daoist! Progression of one’s clan! Admirable. Amitabha. Ever is the betterment of all the righteous path. Forgotten however, is the disharmony brought when Sila and Samadhi stand without Panna. Right action cannot come without right view.”

And on.

The One Hundred and Eight’s enigma enacted gentle chastisement on the myriad characters plucked from these cultivators.

“Cloud Dragon Hall. Mindfulness comes from the present. Amitabha. Three things tether you elsewhere, in future and past.Change rarely holds such stubborn roots.”

“A jest,” he said of one. “I am your grandfather.”

Few perhaps, could tell when an elephant was amused. Fu pondered that this was not it.

Long grinned wide. “Ah, the great hypocrisy. This ancient fourth. Have you ever wondered on his role as Pillar, Fu?” he asked all too loudly. “There is authority,” came his gestures to the Cloudy Serpent Sect, [Plum Axe] and [Inheritors] respectively. “There is might, and there is wisdom. Then stands he that balances them all.”

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The Fourth’s arbitration continued to rise, reaching the thirteen monsters in a matter of breaths. What power he had inflicted held some manner of deciding one’s intentions, their hopes or ambitions. After narrating some thousand golden characters, this much was clear.

That which bubbled from the monsters was as a toad’s breath in shallow pools.

“Lord Fourth,” addressed [Cherry River Spear]. “Our will is unfathomable. There is wisdom in that we leave it from mortal ears.”

Yet the Fourth shook. “Amitabha. Sila. Seek righteous speech, venerable soul. Such words are more divisive than the truth.”

Atop the swaying, impossible head of his [Spirit Tortoise], the [Cherry River Spear] stood taller. “Order will come to this interminable chaos. The sheen upon its waters is but illusion. Trickery. Falsehood. Fortune’s flow, its tide, its sea. Hull. Frame. Wharf. Scarf. Forget not the rot of unchecked things.”

“A statement of benefit,” returned the Fourth. “Already the scales tip.” His great visage rotated within the skies to land upon Shengcang Bulu, the [Cherry River Fool]. “Amitabha. This humble seeker would hear from the greatest sage beneath the Heavens.”

Even Long did not dispute his respect.

Shengcang held in her hand a strange whisk of muddied horsehair, and summarily flung it over her left shoulder. “The youth held a gown of eastern silks. Know now, then, and in future, all tailors would measure twice, cut but once. Few account for [Summer’s] bloating of fingers or the passage of moons. [Winter’s] damp and the widening of child-bearing hips.”

“Amitabha. Just reasoning.”

Of all futures, I would fear the vision of Fools least. Do you feel this, brother, sister? The essence of Change within all words shared? Had we not insight into these monsters, the words would fall upon deaf ears. Each here shouts their declaration.

Of the Cherry River’s proclamations there came a deluge of such whimsy that many below scratched chins and rubbed temples, breaking free of the stupefaction of the moment. No soul among them fell into [Epiphany], so complex or perhaps, so withheld was the true insight behind each.

A hum sounded last of these venerable nine. “For the immutable sin,” began Hua. “The crime against unwritten law. Those that dwell above name themselves clouds, peaks, crowns and Heaven’s equals. Bah. How easy then, to forget the stars. To but look up and know truth. Even they dim, you fools, as is their right.”

Shuidi’s [Spirit] blazed to hear Hua insult them so.

Collective fools.

“Hye-hye-hye! An axe cuts, no more need be said,” delivered the [Plum Axe].

The Fourth dipped. “Amitabha. Just so. This fourth-rate seeker would know the thoughts of serpents,” he said, omitting [Thrice Clouded Boa] from his stoic gaze. “Let these words be last.”

“For the answer to a question,” she intoned.

Again the gong rang clear, and above the great eightfold spokes rotated with glacial pace. For each turn there came another strike, rotating until it stalled upon the seventh.

[Fourth Under Heaven] shed a single tear. “The noble path goes unanswered. Amitabha. To all enlightened souls there is a law unspoken. For Yang to flourish, Yin must surface. Sufficiency. Temperance. This fourth-rate seeker extols not the virtues of Order, of Greed, of Passion, of Hope, of Change, nor of Will. Not alone. Harmony requires the opposing force, lest it becomes abundance,” he resounded. “All gathered walk the Path against the Heavens, for Harmony to exist, we must include those that seek its end. For balance to be met, this is all together too much and not enough.”

Its end? He believes the future will be skewed towards-

His great eightfold wheel suddenly crack, widening a dark fissure along its central beam. This jagged thing held no clean line, but a rough, damaged pattern that split from east to west, cleaving only the taijutu without mess.

An unmistakable eruption of [Primordial Law] lurched from the broken boundary of white and black, forcing Yin and Yang aside like the yawning of a Heavenly door.

[Dour Faced Strategist] exploded towards it, her titanic glaive but one step behind. “You bastard of a fool!” deafened her roar as the first wave of Gu bled from the [Demon Scar] above and its denizens impacted like fallen flies across the ground.

🀧

The [Immortal Judgement Sunshine Array] could not be swallowed by these mere beings through which Fu’s chain plunged.

No.

Those that the thirteen Catastrophes met held a different fate.

They were not the fell stars that descended from on high, spawning bloody mulch beneath their feet where innocent citizens had suffered their impact. Nor possessed they a translucent crown of absence into which the lesser Qi was winnowed and fed.

No.

Fu held no words for their forms. Emperors among breeds with names that doubtless explained their [Demonic Heritage]. The present was no time to place focus upon them and their glorious, eldritch nature.

“Empty thing!” came the bearer of the downwards-slashing jian.

“Falseling,” spat the podao wielder.

“Trickery,” followed the [Asura] as she saw her detachment of four dozen severed before her. “You are the feast behind clouds. A hidden gift. Take pride in this, warriors, for the others here are chaff amongst the wheat.”

[Might] could not mask him, yet neither had he tried to hide.

Cloud Dragon Hall’s Patriarch could not vanish from sight.

No.

It was too early for such things.

Hushi emerged at Fu’s shoulder as Shuidi did upon the douli’s brim. “Kind words, noble [Asura]. A pity your actions do not reflect their softness,” he offered. “We warn you once, warrior, leave this place and no more shall fall by our hand.”

The [Asura] crossed both sets of arms. “What greater absence might be taken than the existence of life? Do not promise so good a time, cultivators, you will regret it.”

Myriad screams reached his ears.

Indeed a cry of all spectrums.

Trampled cultivators. Undeserving mortals. Adolescent flesh put to the blade. Juniors of the myriad factions that had scarce seen a [Demon], let alone clashed with one. Scions, if few, that bore greater resemblance to paper tigers than anything of flesh.

Yet as did the Jianghu blaze.

Those of the Cherry River’s stock flew headlong, [Dao]-armed. Feral bounds and sharpened bone pierced with the volume of endless archers as the Darkberry Tribe or Wolfgarden Tribe or Sunwalker Tribe or Descendants of the Vermillion Ape Tribe and more raged against the eternal foe. Violence drenched the golden [Profundity] of some thousand, thousand manifestations as daoists, Vajra, vagrants, merchants, scribes, and courtiers inflicted their insight in support.

An immortal moment hung.

[Harmony], not as painted in finest ink, nor as waxed by poets. Merely an equilibrium of opposing forces.

Substance against absence.

Life’s vitality against void’s immateriality.

[Fourth Under Heaven] may well have jested, giving [Cherry River Fool] the accolade of greatest sage. For any that might inspire such unity amongst the rivers and lakes should surely claim that of themselves.

A warrior’s obligation held the [Asura] in wait. The deference about her bid a massing hundred… the massing hundreds to forestall. Pensive why their venerable leader might wait for the figure before her.

Fu set his dual-toned chain ahead, if more as a carpenter’s gauge than its intended purpose. “[Tempestual Phantom Tribulations: The Reflection of Waterfalls].”

Time ceased for all those that could not fathom the Fatherly [Asura’s] swiftness. Wondrous, cycling arcs gave soar to the chains blade-head about his body to deliver a speed that would eclipse any [Senses] below immortality- and from this the links warped, snapped, pivoted and became directed limbs from the fulcrum of each point upon their skin.

[Water Qi] and [Air Qi] flooded from their pipe as they made their first step through the [Asura’s] unguarded flesh.

A tide carried in their wake, as if a shadow comprised of fledgling storms. For indeed, it was a repetition of this very motion in wind-bound, watery form.

Their foot touched ground, and here the shadow grew twofold.

It thrummed with a secondary pulse of storms.

It thrummed with a secondary cleave of [Demonic] flesh.

Then on.

And on.

Fivefold shadows became hundredfold shadows, and this hundredfold birthed a hundred more, raging until this sprawling host of uncountable simulacrums burst free from the confines of mimicry.

South. East. North. West.

These hundred, hundredfold shadows slashed and burst of their own accord, felling [Demons] in each direction that he had yet to visit.

And, as said, on.

Fu blurred to his farflung destination, and loosed the grip on his perception as not to stunt the coming conversation. “Mistress Quan,” he half-bowed, offering his gentlest voice.

A slap passed through his ephemeral flesh as Quan reacted as swiftly as her [Might] was able. “Basta- Gao Fu! Do not surprise me like that. Really now. A woman of my age cannot deal with such frights.”

All two hundred of her wards gasped as myriad storms detonated from far to near, erupting each [Demon] in a great sequence closer and closer to their viewing platform. The technique culminated in a sudden return of Fu’s simulacrums, melding with his flesh once more.

“Patriarch! I’m hungry.”

“Gao Fu!”

“Is there any food?”

“Children, I am glad you are well. This tournament has descended into a sea of blades and fire.”

“My stupidity, I blame it on you Gao Fu. In my calmest imaginings this was the least of what might occur,” cried Quan, threatening another well-intentioned slap. “[Demons]! To say nothing of these odd flames that sometimes appear in my vision. There is altogether too much peril here! We should not have come. Rectify it.”

Fu bowed lower as Shuidi spoke. “For all that will and might occur, it is best to have you here. Eternities conspire-”

“Cease this nonsense. Eternities conspire? I care not. Speak only on how you might rectify this!”

Some semblance of external pride burned in Shuidi to be so insulted. “Do not lose this fire, Mistress Quan,” she said, and unfurled a curtain that none ahead had known to be drawn. From it stepped a Vajra of wide berth and disarming smile.

“Amituofo. Glad tiding, Mistress Quan, this lacking seeker has heard much about you. It is known how little justice those words have done,” bowed Udvah, offering a hand. “Come little ones, and do so quickly. The tangguozi have cooled, but there is only so much to go around.”

The Thirteen Catastrophes could not halt this force- no, this stampede, as each of Quan’s wards entered Udvah’s [Inner Realm].

“There are caretakers, Mistress Quan. Amituofo. This lacking seeker cannot speak for the Heavens, yet, all mothers deserve rest, no?”

“Gao Fu!” snapped Quan, sharing her words before taking Udvah’s palm. “This one I like. Why has he not visited before?”

Mangalam croaked his greetings, and the sound from his gargantuan, rounded form nigh shook the empty viewing platform.

“The first trial concludes. Lessermost of all we will face,” Fu said, turning to face where Hushi’s gaze had long been focused. Skyward. “As ever, a part wishes…”

A chuckle was shared.

“Amituofo. One day. A man pretending to be wise once said ‘fools rush’. These bloody horizons are to be the foundations of much peace, rather than pine that we cannot share the stage and [Tribulation] of circumstance with these immortals… better to know how we must act.”

Fu saw the burial of Mingqin’s cultivators under [Demonic] flesh.

Her citizens.

“The [Hollow Throne] has not yet appeared, nor have the Descent of Four Clouds. We are in the opening moments, no more. Long does not require our support yet, and so Cloud Dragon Hall would act under the guise of righteousness, as expected, limiting the destruction.”

“Guise?” chuckled Udvah. “Amituofo. A poor precedent, if Gao Fu has become so blind already.”