Interlude Ten

Bah.

She had been around longer than these impetuous children, and they would need many hundred more moons beneath these Heavens to surprise her.

Indeed, a single look unwrapped the exalted, spoilt history of these brats.

Hua hummed her own melody as the nonsense unfolded- as [Thrice Clouded Boa] postured before the unveiling of her [Primordial Law], as that hedonistic, plum fool above leered from his construct of [Karma] and roots, and as her once-kin unmade each attempt of subtle conquest.

To her left, brother Cuojue, [Cherry River Monk], shielded the myriad gathered talents from the immensity of the [Plum Axe’s] power, casting their resentment into Dreams to avoid his gaze. A wasteful, noble use of his powers.

To her right, sister Faxian, [Cherry RIver Pilgrim], plied a subtlety of Discovery through the very same souls. Never would she lead a horse to water, but enough hints of moisture were given that these cultivators might find a way through without the holding of hands.

“It is not enough. Impartiality. Do you recall Mubu’s jest?”

A crinkle appeared at Hua’s mouth as Ershiba’s whimsy reached her mind. “The most certain result from sitting on a fence is a sore rear. Though he said it with more vulgarity, did he not?”

Had any of the Gao sprouted such irreverent thoughts at this moment, well, her words would not be kind.

Yet, now, it scarcely mattered.

The [Hollow Throne’s] presence was deafening, almost cradled betwixt two of the [Plum Axe’s] greatest roots. Its gleam, its majesty, washed the colour from his manifestation, unmolested by even the shadows of his intent.

All others were arrayed about it.

Equidistant.

Segregated.

At this hour- this second, the children showed wisdom at last.

All save one.

“My, they will write terrible tales of this day,” laughed Yongwu Long, scraping the last flesh from his peach. “A ballad of waiting. But I suppose that habits are threads at first, and cables last. How hard it must be for you sedentary rocks.”

He would goad none here, this was for his own enjoyment.

Long’s divine dragons swooped and curled in the air, if glacially, holding some remnant behaviour of their previous forms. They alone were not stock-still.

“Hye-hye-hye. [True Golden Demon]. How humorous you have become. When last we met you were as dry as [Summer]-soaked papyrus. The passion is admirable indeed!” voiced [Plum Axe Zhu]. “However, this moment is too auspicious. Perhaps you might rein it in?”

Jueshi Jiancai, the [Cherry River Sword], put a hand upon his hilt. “Enough-”

“It didn’t work millenia ago. Though I applaud your boldness,” offered Long, winking at the [Cherry River Fool]. “Bulu? Wisest of all. Would you not step first?”

Darkness had stained Bulu’s cherry robes, ruining the sleeve with small rivers of her brother’s blood. The [Cherry River Spear’s] namesake weapon rested across the seated paws of her mundane [Spirit Bear].

Her head lolled from side to side.

“My madness stems from perfection’s pursuit, old foe. Not from suicidal tendency,” she laughed, joylessly. “[Primordial Lord of Impermanence]. To see you again, it seems you embody restlessness more than your title demands.”

With an absent flick, Long launched his peach’s seed through the [Hollow Throne]. “A poetic gesture!” he smiled. “That a fresh seed, bearer of new generations, might reach the Empress’ seat before you miserly fools.”

“[True Golden Demon] forgets himself,” offered [Gleeful Viper’s] soft voice. “[Cherry River Sage] is why all stand still as [Winter’s] ice. It is said that adders burrow farther in the company of vipers. How unruly that such a saying would manifest here.”

Ershiba hummed.

Hua hummed.

Long inclined his head as if a pendulum, and upon the backswing came a shift to make the Heavens start. Gone was the impish posture of decadent youth, replaced- no, devoured by the rise of bright golden flames that now lashed across his straightening posture. “Indulgence. It no longer holds a place,” he then called once over his shoulder. “[Cherry River Sage].”

Stars blazed in her irises as she took her step.

Sideward.

Ever had she pitied those that required [Arts] to do that which they were innately capable of. A road opened before her first toe lifted, granting quiet to the maelstroms, slaughters and disorientation of this hallowed place.

All about her became a striation of starlight, and through these her body moved sixfold, at once. Her lips, sixfold and one, granted whispers to each ear they reached.

“The eel was placed by orders older than your kin, girl,” came the first and sixth.

“A son exists, severed by his own will. Such is your legacy,” came the first and sixth, delivered in concert with all that followed and preceded.

“Worse is the frog that knows he is biggest in his well, yet refuses to leap the wall. [Transcendence] this is not.”

“Certainty is [Plausibility’s] crutch and imagination’s end.”

“To be loved or to be feared. Parents to a thing the extreme might never know. The h’siang sheng is not enough as you are.”

One differed.

A whisper not in an ear, but a turning face. Shengcang Bulu spoke before it, plucking the starlight like a guzheng's strings. “Little sister. Is Yongwu Long cause enough to reject the Cherry River?”

Hua paused within infinity.

Ershiba hummed in her stead. “The wise plant trees, the shade of which they should not sit beneath. He alone holds the means, not to grow their boughs, but to remove those that hoard their shelter.”

The [Cherry River Sage] drew back from starlight, now lit only by the pristine white [Paifang] before all.

Here, the immortals staggered.

Jiancai’s hand trembled upon his hilt with the same astonishment as [Thrice Clouded Boa]. “Hua,” he breathed. “We of the Cherry River remain by the Heavens’ will.”

“Older than kin,” tasted [Thrice Clouded Boa].

“By their own will?” roared the [Plum Axe], having his roots fracture further.

[Cherry River Alchemist] and his twin [Spirit Octopodes] held sight only for their own hands, as if this hour was the first they had ever been witnessed. “Implausible.”

Myriad serpents riled upon the second scion of the Cloudy Serpent Sect. Their anger spoke volumes.

A hum came, and this time it was not of Hua or Ershiba’s making. Within a heartbeat it turned to the keening of metal upon metal, seen as Shengcang Bulu ran her nail upon the edge of [Cherry River Spear’s] soiled qiang.

Shavings fell as her nail progressed, leaving no more than a strange construct in her hand. A shaft that held a spout at its peak.

“This old fool will share a thing,” she smiled. “[Quintessence’s] culmination. Its solitary truth, laughably, is that no thing exists beneath the Heavens that is perfect.”

The [Plum Axe] laughed, awfully.

She continued regardless. “As [Primordial Lords], the definition we grant our domains is shallow. To imprint our image on the natural is a robbery. A farce. No soul is Heaven’s equal, and to contort even a sliver of their power is to reduce it,” Bulu put each Calamity in her gaze. “[Love]. [Plausibility]. [Terror]. [Transcendence]. [Severance]. [Dreams]. [Discovery]. [Crossroads]. Whatever colour the [Hollow Throne] adopts will only lessen its luster.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on NovelPhoenix. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Sister Bulu’s presence here speaks against her words,” said the half-recovered Jiancai. “Do you truly not seek to sit upon it?”

Bulu stooped, pressing her brow against that of her [Spirit Bear]. “Once, perhaps,” she chuckled. “The [Empress Above All] was not known to seek comfort. I doubt there’s a single pillow to cushion my rear. For that reason…”

Farewell, sister.

Wisps fled from Bulu and her [Spirit Bear], as though their very flesh was fleeing starlight. Upwards it travelled, suffusing the spear of her fallen brother and the spout hewn by her own hand, delivering then an eruption of peerless waters.

The Cherry River came as a tide, touching none but the great plum roots about them.

Drowning them in entirety.

🀧

Zhu did not enjoy his Master’s techniques.

“I don’t enjoy these techniques,” he shared, deflecting no less than one thousand beams of concentrated sunlight.

Bingbai tugged once at his cobalt beard. “Oh-ho-ho. I don’t enjoy traitorous acts. A day for disappointment indeed,” he laughed, mirthlessly. “It is a pity, my former disciple. With such an alignment in talents, you might have adopted my [Heritage].”

Needles flew a thousand, thousandfold.

[Celestial Qi] reached, struck, bolted, scorched and contorted in an array of infinite possibilities.

Behind, the Cherry River had emerged, raging for untold minutes.

[Thrice Clouded Boa] loosed her first great bout of [Primordial Law], and this washed over the combatants to no avail.

An impression surfaced in Tanshuai, echoing Zhu’s own thirst. The bottle at the end of this day would be sweet indeed.

“Those stains upon you are merit enough. Teal eyes. Such promise. Oh-ho-ho, to remove the [Mantra of Heavenly Plums], a disciple with such talent could have replaced me in some millenia to come. But this is your mantle, boy. To ever disappoint those above you.”

Myriad, uninspired blows passed.

From east to west, these former companions struck unseen across the skies. Both cultivator and butterfly produced a lengthy sigh, retrieving a lesser bottle from storage from which they shared a swig.

A chance given by Fu Gao’s appearance and the words shared between he and Bingbai. His brother- his darkly consumed brother, vanished in moments.

“Vexing,” Zhu spoke.

Bingbai overturned a hand, multiplying his needles until they became a tapestry to his rear. “No, no. I demand pageantry, my disciple. The stage below is not for us, and so this final indulgence is all I might savor. My mortal affectations, the pride I felt in both of you. Why, it awakened a need. To refreeze my heart, this vengeance must be flawless.”

[Waters of Perennial Twilight].

The skies split about them in monotone hues, dividing the horizon with a spectacle of pitch black and brilliant white. His island manifested at its center, stemming there a mirrored tree of these same tones.

[Celestial Qi] flocked to him.

Zhu ignored it, for this was not his intention. He looked beyond Bingbai’s growing smile, and seized hold of his domain. “Bah,” he shook. “Long’s words of stagnation and crumbling pillars. These notions are lofty. One thing cannot describe all peoples… but I don’t care enough to expand upon my Path. You, Master, I’d thought you were beyond it. The disassociation you once spoke on.”

His fingers raked the air, and distantly, light fell away.

A serpent was revealed, of a scale to swallow the world.

“Guang,” greeted Zhu’s surprised brows.

“Oh-ho,” said Bingbai. “More is the pity. This betrayal comes at great loss. How long have you known?”

To see the great turtle without his farce of a shell caused no great emotion in Zhu. As one that could bend [Celestial Qi] to his will, the admittedly superb charade had long been uncovered. Now, as he slithered as the serpent he was in the skies behind Bingbai, he seemed only lesser for it.

“The Orthodox was ever your calling, Bingbai,” offered Zhu. “That you didn’t share their [Heritage]... must we do this? Waste breath and trade meaningless blows? Tanshuai has already gleaned the nine different [Arrays] you try to subtly layer about us, and no [Art] you possess can harm us.”

The venerable master assassin blinked. “For once, this directness wounds me. I am Ban Bingbai, the [Celestial Sage], Elder of the Clouded Courts. All that you are is because of me, do not presume to-”

Again came Zhu’s great sigh, and he caught Tanshuai’s gaze. [Profundity] built within them, lacing their words as their internalized [Dao] thrummed. “[No],” he said. “[All we are is because of us].”

Twilight shuddered about their island even at this first utterance.

Bingbai and Guang tightened, and in place of needles he drew a malicious, bladed war fan into his grip. Each point was a match for a dragon’s tooth, gleaming white. “A Path of whimsy, Truth. Its culmination is as a child could predict, that each soul holds an outlook that shapes the reality around them. What is balm for one is blade for another. My one critique of you, former disciple, that you believe it might harm me. Come, loose your [Primordial Law].”

This show of Bingbai’s was beginning to irritate Zhu.

“This show of yours begins to irritate us,” said Zhu. “We suffer it only as it removes you from interfering. With Fu in this state- yes. Let it end.”

Guang’s tremendous form blurred about them, and in a half-breath had encircled the skies so that Zhu and Tanshuai were caught in his center. Stupendous scripts ran the length of his scales, bloated with blackened characters and supreme meaning.

Multifarious [Arrays] erupted across Zhu.

Meteors. Chains. Blades. Gravity. Time. Serpents. Nebulas.

Draining things. Encumbering things. Debilitating things.

All punctuated by Bingbai’s sneer. “A part of us wished you had surpassed this.”

Zhu did not drop despite all that fell against him, all that draped about his body, gnawed and siphoned. His [Dao] flourished. “[That sentiment was your first sign of worth as a Master,” he intoned. “[You are the same as those blind fools.]”

The meteors turned to ash against his skin, and he took a step.

One sliver of his [Senses] rested upon the distant [Plum Axe]. Perhaps it was not solely Bingbai to whom he spoke.

“[A Master nurtures].”

The chains fractured, becoming broken starlight.

“[A Master teaches, without the expectation of recompense.]”

His steps were not swift, but purposeful, and as each one was gained the great Guang recoiled as the [Array’s] backlash shattered upon his scales.

“[They care, for the child’s burdens are their own].”

Bingbai’s manifested [Array]-blades were swallowed by Tanshuai’s wings. They left not a scratch on her regal patterns.

“[They-] No. It is unnecessary to waste words on the dead,” he said, unmaking gravity, breaking Bingbai’s hold on time, and batting aside the nebulae. “There is more beneath the Heavens than this. Than crushed wills and accumulating power. Do not ask what, for that mystery is one we will enjoy discovering ourselves.”

The war-fan rose, and [Divine Senses] cautioned Zhu to the rise of unfathomable [Constellation Seeds] within Bingbai’s flesh. Immortal-grade treasures that he only now decided to employ.

Tanshuai thought it foolish.

“Foolish,” spoke the butterfly as an axe was lifted.

Last to shatter upon their flesh were the serpents, falling as harmlessly as worms.

Guang hissed.

Bingbai’s fan clashed against Zhu’s falling edge. “Until the end, you continue to be rowdy,” he spat from the clinch. “The discarded kin of that deviant plum and a failed ghost. What-”

For the last time, Zhu interrupted his former master. “The same failings,” he sighed. “We are what we seek to be. Shaped by none but those that we wish.”

His [Dao] had grown from simple Truth.

[Dao of Realities].

“[We are Gao Zhu and Gao Tanshuai],” intoned his voice. “[We are your perfect counter, and end].”

An explosion of light escaped as Zhu’s axe severed the fan, bisecting all that lay behind it. His former Master grimaced as his [Celestial Constitution] flickered- the Qi that supported it drunk deep by Zhu’s blade.

“[Primordial Law of Accumulation: Legacy of Ghosts],” Bingbai mustered.

Ten thousand shadows blurred into Guang’s inner scales, drawn across impossible distances mid-swing, stab or pillage, and this tide of peerless assassins could only be the Descent of Four Clouds. Known faces roamed among them, jian and dagger drawn, masked by the world itself.

Shades above shades.

At their fore bowed Yunhan and his Mistress, of Fu’s former tutelage. “Elder Bingbai,” came his low delivery.

Zhu’s axe continued to reap the [Celestial Qi] from Bingbai’s [Core], displaying blackened, [Demonic] veins upon the wrinkled man’s skin.

“Destroy this traitor,” he demanded.

Some thousand eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Within Guang’s circlet, the Mistress’ mass twisted, gaze a-search.

“Forgiveness, Elder Bingbai. Of which traitor do you speak?” asked Yunhan, shifting his top-most scarf as if held any bearing on sight.

Bingbai’s [Constellation Seeds] surged in strength. “The one before you, fool,” he grunted, coughing black-speckled blood. With a growing alarm, he pressed his hands upon the blade, finding only pain dwelt in such an act.

Gently, Tanshuai returned to Zhu’s shoulder. “See his sneer. Still he believes that all we are is a result of him.”

The butterfly stole from her sister, and hummed.

Zhu smiled as the Descent of Four Clouds, visions tainted by serpents, sought a spectre they could not fathom. “Here is your pageantry,” he sighed, reaping Bingbai’s [Constellation Seeds] with a final twist of his axe.

A withered husk fell then, plummeting through the fading wisps of Guang and into the visible spectrum of the surrounding ghosts’ vision.

They gave chase.

Gao Zhu took a swig of wine, and went elsewhere.