Chapter Two Hundred and Forty Three - Venerable Gu Emperors

Seven hours into the fray and the bare vestige of what serpents remained in their blood began to dance. The [Sovereign Clouded Existences] had consumed much of the [Clouded Ghost Arts], thus it was only fitting that it remained.

Their [Inner Qi] shifted darkly, welcoming their former kin.

Yet, not alone.

“The Descent of Four Clouds,” highlighted Shuidi, revealing trace glimpses of moving shadows. Then came the lesser forces. “Plum Tree Shades. The Numbereds’ plain-named assassins. Moon-facing disciples of the [Cherry River Sword] and [Cherry River Doctor]. Any among those may hold surprise. We need not trouble ourselves with the loud and untalented scattered about these true ghosts.”

Chan Gui landed before him, blitzing his chain through the dozen [Pishacha] that ascended the tournament’s main stairway. Further stones to reinforce the grotesque well collected at its base, melding with the thousands. “Patriarch! The eastern and western staircases are clear. What is your bidding?”

“The citizens?”

With the filth upon his junior’s face, none might say if it then turned grim. “More have escaped than fallen… yet… with the attendants total number… Patriarch, it is a calamity against life.”

“And a greater one if we do not act. The time that we spoke on will soon arrive. Cloud Dragon Hall must soon retreat.”

Sand rushed from the west, unfurling Samudra and Yasodhara. “Gao Fu, there is no end to their number. What do you suggest?”

“Retreat…” muttered Chan Gui.

“Then, they have arrived?” rounded Yasodhara. “He has arrived?”

Hushi dipped in affirmation.

Without the aid of [Qi Suppression], his juniors’ fear was plain. A bittersweet declaration of [Spirit].

“My brave disciples, recall that rain falls unceasing,” he said, placing hands upon both of their shoulders. “Do as we have said and trust in all that you have weathered.”

A better man would offer them promises. We cannot. To offer such would deprive them of the [Tribulations] they are to face.

All was calmer than it ought to be, owed in large to Mingqin’s efforts. The [Heritage] of her immortal kin was plain as she soared above in recital of a peerless [Dao]. Her [Profundity] was a song of majesty in how it encapsulated the underside of their [Array]-hampered Heavens, lilting upon the ears of the thousands that toiled before her.

A thing of golden currents.

Constructed from the very platforms upon which these warring factions clashed was a barrier of marble so great it severed the Thirteen Catastrophes from sight. Grand phoenixes had been etched upon the bottom of each, and displayed her heraldry in vivid fashion. Only now, as she had dragged the individual stages across bloodied skies, their interconnected image touched all horizons.

“The perception that those above cannot see emboldens many, no?” he sighed aloud.

Tanshuai unfolded by their brim, and Zhu followed thereafter. “It’s of no consequence. The true annoyance will begin once that fortification tumbles. Vexing that we don’t know the order of these ceremonies.”

“We have our roles.”

“Yet the actors are late,” sighed Zhu, offering Fu a fresh bottle. “My tribe stand ready at the boundary.”

“Cloud Dragon Hall have likewise massed.”

The bottle remained ungrasped. “It’s the waiting, no? I’ve no love for it.”

“No. More than that. The exclusion from Hua and Long’s schemes begins to grate. It does not stem from pride.”

A mocking grin surfaced on Zhu. “How slow, brother. That you’ve still not figured out their scheme. What occurs above is as inconsequential as… no, I care little for cleverness at the moment. Trust that they don’t omit us for poor reasons.”

“Perhaps you could find it in your heart to spare a hint for this poor, older soul?”

Tanshuai tickled Fu’s nose in jest.

“No. What little enjoyment I’ll get from this massacre is reinforced by your discomfort,” shared Zhu, and blurred away mid-swig.

Brothers.

🀧

Exhaustion had the rainbow of [Array Masters] collapse in turn, and as with all things upon these hallowed grounds, it was tidal.

If not the [Cherry River Spear’s] disciples, the [Lotus Blade Sect] pooled their admittedly sharp workings against the flames of Bingbai’s mastercraft. If not the [Heavenly Trigram Sect], then the [Immortal Reflections Palace] put their delicate hands, paws and peerless Qi against the great malady that ensnared them all.

A recession then a swell.

As it was with [Arrays].

As it was with [Demons].

As it was with [Dao], [Arts], [Formations], [Prowess].

Death.

Suffocating pressure choked from each cardinal direction, and more.

Body over body.

Wound over wound.

Fu took a singular breath after fifteen hours, admitting the first wisps of discomfort had begun to show. “Gratitude, friend,” came at the end of his dance.

Snow flaked from the second man’s lips. “The righteous need not share thanks, Gao Fu,” he returned with an ease scarcely found outside bathhouses and taverns. “As long as injustice stands, our blades shall meet it. As long those remain that would prey upon the weak, we shall meet it!”

Such carefree regality was fitting for Shuang, personal disciple of the [Cherry River Sword]. His twin [Spirit Stoats] possessed it, even with the absurdity of jian carried within their frost-coated mouths.

“Cultivators of the Clear Sky! Let your martial hearts beat loud against these detestable souls. Know that the spirit of the Cherry River beats with you!” he thundered, donning the horizon with his simplistic zhanmadao, which itself seemed the length of two men.

These hours had whittled down the available souls.

As had it tempered the remnants.

Isuel and her [Spirit Baboons] were first to fly across the open skies, ascending the floating remnants of platforms as though vertical stepping stones on a tranquil lake. So followed cultivators of the massed factions- immortals one and all.

Peerless Blood Blossom Sect.

Stray observers from the Four Tiger Pill Society.

The Tenth, Eleventh, Twelfth and Thirteenth Vajra Clans.

Namgoong Sect.

Righteous Demon Hall.

Fables from across the Jianghu flew like arrows sent from the Heaven’s bowstring, and from their yawning, skyward pit, the disciples of Gu met them. [Fourth Under Heaven’s] law could not be disputed then, as even the blind would see what warped tranquility existed here.

In the shade of Mingqin’s great barricade, beneath the [Summer’s] grating sun, greater fables stood in observation.

A match for their own, for looking back aside the Fatherly [Asura] was not Shuang alone.

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“Jah,” huffed the first of three. “Why do you not move? The honor of backwater Sects is candle against my flame, you presume much, old one.”

Fu dipped his douli at a loose robed man of cinnabar moustache and calculating gaze as he sprinkled flames from one palm into the extended tongue of his break [Spirit Duckling]. Many rebuttals came to mind, and yet before he might speak another chimed in.

“Hall of the Serene Phoenix. This event draws talents from all hidden recesses,” noted this second, and despite her allegiance, one that had not been dismissed. She was a shawled sort, ill-hidden by the threadbare drapery across her through which a herd of [Spirit Rats] wove. “When might we talk about it? The thinly-veiled curtain is due to fall any moment now. What does it matter who stands beside us as we do?”

The one from Hall of the Serene Phoenix looked to Shuang, for indeed it seemed he was the only soul present that was worth meeting his flame-dancing eye. “Do the Beggar Sect know no shame? Jah, of course not. You remain solely by the grace of the [Cherry River Sword’s] disciple. If he tolerates your presence, then I will do no less. This other, however.”

“How small seclusion has made their outlook,” thought Shuidi, humming with amusement.

A third greater fable shared this hum, if only the first note. Familiar. Her silence had gone unbroken until then, and now, Zheng Yifei’s attention warred with the horizon. “Ninth Realm Venerable Gu Apostles,” she broke.

All but the cinnabar cultivator remained still. He stepped back, flames ceasing. “Ninth Realm Venerable Gu Apostles. You cannot be certain.”

The beggar laughed. “To question a serpent… such dull eyes you have, phoenix.”

Shuang returned his zhanmadao to its scabbard. “I am certain any might be questioned if they spoke such a name. It is indeed true, cousin. Just as the truth of those above is worse. The Ten Exaltations Gu Emperors.”

“There are four Emperors. Short on exaltations, I see,” laughed the beggar.

“Just so, just so,” loudly acknowledged Shuang. “Master foresaw as much. Events transpire here that may yet pull clouds across the [Cherry River Sage’s] vision! For the Jianghu’s future, and the futures of its citizens, I hope this does not speak of fouler, untoward deeds in the making.”

There are less Demonic Emperors than foreseen. Some [Demon Scar] or the [Demonic Realm] is where [Fourth Under Heaven] has most likely drawn these terrors from, and yet, why would less answer this call to opportunity?

A riddle beyond his means, currently.

“Fortune smiles in that there are merely nine Gu Apostles,” offered the Hall of Serene Phoenix’s cultivator, his words scrambling for some mimicry of Shuang’s regal bearing. “That villain at far north shall be my quarry. I claim it now. I will leave it among yourselves to mete out challenge to the remnants.”

Shuang firmed. “Honourable Xici. This debt cannot be repaid. To gift us the glory such as this

“Two each,” mused Yifei, patting the underside of her metallic [Spirit Serpent].

The phoenix cultivator huffed a laugh, as though he knew the greatest joke in all of the Jianghu. “Yes, two each. If all amongst us can claim such a feat.”

[Divine Sense] revealed four-fifths full [Primordial Constellation Gates] about them. A veritable feast for those that walked another Path.

Yifei, their [Karma]-entwined cousin, raised a hand. Still under the auspices that the douli-clad man was her ally, she granted her aid. “Gao Fu, this serpent knows you too well. Will you take offence?”

Oh how the Beggar grinned.

Oh how the phoenix nearly clucked.

“Ninth Realm Venerable Gu Apostles. Without insult, they are much like immortals. Two is sufficient.”

“Two is sufficient,” mocked the phoenix, exactly as loud as he intended to be. “Swallows fly farther under an eagle’s wing, yet this does not mean they can cross the ocean.”

This man knows nothing of swallows.

But Fu stepped forward, knowing that when the veil of pretense fell it would be best to have fostered danger in his reputation. Hushi and Shuidi emerged, and the latter needed no pageantry to show superiority.

[Intent] beat from their [Spirit] like distant thunder.

A portent that drew widened eyes from these fables beyond fables.

[Pavillion of the Star-Eating Leviathan].

At a second step, he felt the nervous tremble of each fable’s [Constellation Seeds]. At a third, he felt them recede.

Quiver.

Hide.

Shuang’s zhanmadao re-entered his hand. Half drawn. “Companions, let us wait no longer. With the Cherry River at our backs and a beating heart in our chests, we cannot fail! To arms!”

The two Gu Apostles that Fu arrived before met his chain some half breaths too late, allowing one [Pischacha] to suffer a great severing of right-hand fingers. His blackened blade at the chain’s rear was blocked on the upstroke by a [Rakshasa’s] trident.

Shuidi drove their [Intent] between the two, commanding it as a weapon of its own.

These [Demons] did the same.

And so they danced.

Here stood a welcome trial of appearances, despite its vexation. Fu grinned as he blurred, rounded, dodged and savaged his [Tempestual Phantom Tribulations] forth, unwilling to have his profound disadvantage to Gu be seen.

[Profundity] wracked the skies about him as fable and [Demon] unleashed the beginnings of their Paths about him.

Golden snow fell from Shuang, and through this flurry stampeded a pestilence of spectral rats so vast they drowned the force of Gu expanding from these Apostles.

Fu blurred amidst it, twisting to avoid trident and fist alike as he cut back, arced and whirled between the madness of ally and [Demon] alike. A horizontal blur and the Beggar was there, driving some divine cleaver down the spine of his quarry, then a sidestep and he painstakingly phased through a rampaging [Asura], overpowering the Gu so he might claim a thick section of neck.

Another thousand blows were traded.

He ensnared the waist of the [Rakshasa], and flung her in myriad spirals towards Yifie’s waiting bian- swatting the vileness in twain.

The [Pischacha] held unprecedented [Might], producing violent shockwaves each moment his blurring fists met Fu’s blurring chain, creating blizzards, ravaging winds and a scattering of rats. After another thousand blows, his knuckle scraped the [Heavenly Spectre’s Shroud].

Their [Core] screamed as this physical connection of Gu easily consumed it.

It stalled his-

Prodigious flames erupted from below as the Hall of Serene Phoenix’s cultivator wove [Dao] and [Constellation Seed] into a flawless construct about him. A donning of a wrathful crown and scepter, through which channeled no less than the sun’s full heat.

Against it, the Gu receded.

It burned, as if Heaven’s own logic was overcome.

Talented. One to watch, I might think.

But Fu would not be outdone.

[Clouded Sovereign’s Departure].

Ten thousand strikes met ten thousand strikes as Shuang and a great, aquamarine [Asura] traded one blade against four. These blows made no shockwave, nor scarce made a chime, for in their meeting was martial perfection.

Here, they slowed.

As [Primordial Qi] and [Spectral Qi] suffused Fu in entirety, only tremors from the Thirteen Catastrophes continued. Some percussive chorus to which he stepped, whirling both heads of his chain.

Once all has concluded, let us visit the [Western Demon Front]. I would face these Apostles when pageantry is not required.

Indeed the insidious, diminishing effects of Gu, the tempering of these [Demons] and their equal [Prowess] had pushed him far. Far, that is, when he wished for the challenge of an [Artless], [Daoless] clash.

He almost sighed.

[Tempestual Phantom Tribulations, Thirteenth Step: Collapse the Horizon].

The immortal-killing blow.

Once, [Seasons] ago, he had struggled. Now it came as swiftly as the western wind.

Fu turned, marrying the twinned blades of his chain. Light atop dark. He crossed them as if a tailor’s scissors, and with inverted grip breezed forth in gentle fashion.

To the [Rakshasa] of peerless beauty and tangerine skin he gifted an eruption of heart; to the [Asura] against which Shuang cut, he impaled both eyes; to the [Dao]-dense Yakshi of false-human flesh he granted a storm of cuts, leaving its grotesque form to seep out when all was done; and then to the second [Asura], he granted reprieve.

[Clouded Sovereign’s Departure] was to end if not for Yifei’s pivoting form. Her perfect, arching brow, and the immediate turning of the liquid-metal arsenal that rotated at her flank. “Haste, once-friend. Is there something we ought to know?”

The douli shook. “Friend Yifei, there is not. Merely that we do not wish to posture when greater goals must be achieved.”

None but she spoke freely.

Shuang’s form seemed as if thawing, and his eyes coloured with fascination as some facet of cultivation overcame Fu’s swiftness. “Friend Fu, friend Yifei. Has your patience for contest ended? These Apostles are less than I too, would like. Yet to have disappointing foes is only half a curse.”

“Just so, venerable Shuang,” dipped Fu, seeing now the first signs of awareness blossom on all about them.

A glacial tilt of arms and eyes.

They still had some breaths before these [Demons] gleaned more than afterimages.

“When all is said and done,” smiled Shuang. “And justly, if allegiance permits, might we trade pointers?”

Shuidi hummed. “If the [Cherry River Sword’s] disciple can keep up. This peerless mistress spends much time in waiting. How worthless it would be to add to it.”

Silence.

An undignified, bellyful snort escaped the regal man, quaking through his [Spirit Stoats]. “Righteousness would dictate that we should keep no lady waiting,” he said, winking at Fu. “Nor man. Apologies for my forwardness, rare is the occasion where those of our responsibilities might joke. By the Cherry River, I am well out of practice.”

Yifei extended what corpses might consider a warm smile.

A pleasant man. Our first meeting revealed as such. Yuling would have many questions for him.

“When all is said and done, then,” nodded Fu. “In Divine Clouded Mountain, within the Golden Merchant Canton, there is a great restaurant at the bank of its smallest river. Perhaps we might dine first? Again, when all is said and done. Friend Yifei?”

“Tolerable. We of the new generation must seek to strengthen ties.”

Both looked to Shuang for his answer.

The silence repeated for a long heartbeat.

Those trailing, glacial eyes of the [Rakshasa], the [Asura], the remaining [Pischacha], the phoenix cultivator, and the Beggar widened with greater rapidity. White alone did not decorate the [Demons’] irises, but in this moment Fu saw commonality between their races.

Disbelief transcended difference.

Four fountains gushed from Shuang’s flesh, born of four Heaven-shattering [Pulls].

That-

From nothingness, a figure emerged, and Hushi noted all that was shown on Yifie’s flickering brow.

Ahead, Fu Gao retrieved the peerless, bloody [Constellation Seeds] as though a fisherman retrieving his catch, held aloft on wires of ruddy, [Demonic] string. His douli scarcely lifted as he dipped reverently towards Yifei, and vanished swifter than any there might catch.

Mortal time resumed.

Somewhere above, the first platform of Mingqin’s barrier crumbled.