The focus of the lessons remained on her connection with Zhengui, the way her own qi affected him and vice versa. While Zhengui was too young to benefit from any such lessons, he did get to enjoy the fruits of the Elder’s garden. The little xuanwu was kept occupied during the long sessions of meditation by gnawing on fruits half the size of his own body. Ling Qi was glad her gown was self-cleaning, else it would probably have ended up quite stained.

  She felt her connection to the little spirit growing more refined and with it, her ability to communicate with him. His thoughts were still simple and direct, but she was beginning to see signs of greater development in the curiosity, affection, and other more complex emotions now blossoming alongside simpler ones like fear and hunger. Elder Ying believed that he would begin grasping some of his abilities in no more than a month. Strong spirits did not remain in a state of infancy for long. Indeed, when she examined him, Ling Qi was sure that Zhengui was already several centimeters longer than he had been at hatching. For now though, she could only continue caring for Zhengui as he grew.

  In the wake of her lesson, she had other tasks. Ling Qi still shied from the thought of facing Meizhen and forcing the talk that she felt had to happen and her other friends remained unavailable as well so she decided that she might as well see what the boy from the council meeting had wanted. It would be rude to ignore him, and she did have some free time in the afternoon.

  It helped that she had received a note the previous day, left on her doorstep. The venue he wanted to meet at, a little sect run teahouse in the market area, seemed safe enough. The location meant it couldn’t be an ambush since as far as she could tell, the market area was the one place on the mountain where violence was absolutely banned by Sect law. She would keep an eye out on leaving, but the meeting itself should be safe.

  The teahouse in question was a humble place toward the edge of the market area with a dim interior populated by a scattering of tables at which disciples chatted and mingled. Simple paper dolls flitted about serving the disciples, somehow supporting the weight of dishes and tea. Ling Qi gave the place a wary once over as she paused in the doorway, but no one even looked up at her entrance.

  She entered, skirting the edge of the room to head for the line of closed booths lining the rear wall. Fu Xiang had said he would be taking his tea in the third booth from the left.

  She carefully pushed the door open, the simple bamboo and paper screen sliding easily on the track. Inside was a small polished wooden table surrounded on three sides by a bench upholstered with a simple, unadorned set of light green cushions. Fu Xiang sat on the right side, and looked up as she opened the door, idly adjusting the lenses perched on his nose with one hand while cradling of a cup of dark, red-tinged tea in the other. The pot and a second cup rested on the tabletop.

  “Oh, Miss Ling. I was beginning to imagine that you had decided not to come,” he said lightly. “I am glad I was wrong.”


  Ling Qi’s lips almost twisted into a frown. The booth was smaller than she liked, but she was already here.

  “I was delayed somewhat. I am currently taking lessons from Elder Ying,” she replied evenly. “I could hardly end such things early.” She stepped inside and seated herself across from the boy. She paused briefly when the door rattled and began to close on its own but brushed it off as a formation effect.

  “Of course. It was a little thoughtless of me to set the meeting time without your input,” he apologized. “In my defense, you are somewhat difficult to track down. Please do not think poorly of me, Miss Ling.”


  Ling Qi studied him; Fu Xiang’s unfailing good humor rubbed her the wrong way. It was a slight thing, but she found herself wary of the older boy.

  “It was not any real trouble,” she replied carefully and was surprised when he moved to pour a cup for her. It was a weirdly humble action, and it threw her for a second. Going by the amused sparkle in his eyes when he met her gaze, he was aware of it too.

  “It is a local blend. I’ve grown quite fond of it,” he commented idly as he set the pot back down. “Would you care to order anything before we begin?”


  She accepted the cup with only a slight suspicious glance and shook her head. “No, this is fine. What did you want from me?” she asked, a bit more bluntly than strictly necessary.

  “I suppose being direct is fine too,” he said, taking a sip of his own tea. He gestured, and Ling Qi stiffened as she felt a shift in the air. “Just a precaution,” he assured her, meeting her gaze. “We won’t be overheard now.”


  “Is that really necessary?” Ling Qi asked, arching an eyebrow in her best impression of Meizhen’s skeptical face.

  “It is better to be over prepared than under,” he shot back. “I think we both understand how a lack of caution can lead to ruin. I know better than to think the world will be so forgiving.”


  “You aren’t wrong. You also haven’t answered the question. What do you want from me?”


  “A little cooperation, no more. I have, if you will excuse the arrogance, very good eyes and ears,” he said with a touch of pride. “I know many useful things, and yet, without more…… tangible evidence, making use of those things can be difficult. My word is not exactly of high worth,” he continued blithely.

  It wasn’t hard to work out the implication. Ling Qi took a careful sip of her tea, keeping an eye on him over the rim. “So I suppose you want someone to acquire that ‘tangible evidence’ of yours?” she asked dryly. “Are you sure Lady Cai would approve of that kind of underhanded dealing?”


  “I am quite certain,” he replied with a slight grin. “Justice cannot be dealt to those who hide their misdeeds after all. Investigation into corruption is an important task, and it is why the Lady approached me. I am, for example, close on the trail of the one who attempted to frame you, Miss Ling.”


  Ling Qi stilled but then nodded. “So what is your proposal exactly?” she asked. Information brokers and climbers – she knew his type well enough, and she had a measure of how far she could trust the boy. It might be worth helping him out though; it would give her leverage for favors in the future, if nothing else.

  “You are a cold one aren’t you?” he commented idly, examining her. “You could at least give me a little more reaction to work with.”


  “I’d rather not,” Ling Qi replied dryly.

  “Fair enough.” He shrugged. “At the moment, I require a cache of letters from the home of a young woman in my year. They contain information that will grant Lady Cai leverage in future meetings. I hope you will not mind that I do not share more exact details just yet.”


  “Understandable,” Ling Qi said. That didn’t sound too onerous, even if preparing properly would probably be time consuming. There was obviously something more personal in it for Fu Xiang though. “What’s in it for me?”


  “Besides the glory of working for Lady Cai’s cause?” he asked rhetorically, leaning forward slightly. “Knowledge of a trial site that has yet to be uncovered this year. We are not in competition after all.”


  So Fu Xiang was aiming for a production slot for the Inner Sect? That was useful information. The idea of another trial was appealing too; she had come out quite well from the last one.

  “I’ll consider it. I hope this isn’t too urgent. I am already very busy this week. I intend to participate in the subjugation of Kang Zihao tomorrow, and I still have my lessons for the remainder of the week.”


  “Of course,” he responded, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement. “If you have not made your decision by the end of the week, I am afraid I will have to seek other avenues though. It is

  time sensitive.”


  Ling Qi nodded tersely, taking a longer sip of tea. It

  pretty good. She was thankful that Fu Xiang’s request was relatively straightforward. She doubted he would renege on their deal if she went through with it. For all that he said his word wasn’t worth much, if he didn’t at least keep his deals, she doubted Cai Renxiang would have brought him onto the council.

  Ling Qi lingered a bit longer to be polite and finish her tea, but they soon parted ways. Ling Qi had cultivation to do. Specifically, she needed to begin thinking seriously about which phase of the moon she would like to follow for the next phase of her cultivation art.

  Ling Qi considered them all as she meditated and drank in the starlight from the yard of the archive building. The Grinning Moon had been good to her, and the thrill of her last job had reminded her of how fun it could be to slip in and out of danger. She had shied away from danger as a mortal…… but maybe she didn’t need to any more.

  She was not yet sure, which might be why the thread of dark qi nestled in her dantian since her encounter with the Grinning Moon after the fight with Sun Liling’s forces faded away. She had little time for introspection come morning though as she was met with the irresistible force that was Gu Xiulan on the warpath.

  Well, that might have been an exaggeration, but apparently, since they were both going to be participating in the subjugation mission against Kang Zihao today and Ling Qi’s new gown had been delivered that morning, they absolutely needed to go out together beforehand to ensure that they looked their best.

  Ling Qi was dubious of why precisely it was important to look good when hunting down and beating up an enemy, but she didn’t grumble. Gu Xiulan’s cheerful, if overbearing, banter was better than the silence of the past couple days.

  It did mean she had the displeasure of feeling like a doll again as Gu Xiulan insisted on fussing over her while she changed into her new gown. The gown that Cai Renxiang had commissioned from a Core Sect apprentice of Duchess Cai was a garment far more luxurious and complicated than any Ling Qi had ever worn before. The gown had many layers of black silk hemmed with white, and a dark blue mantle wrapped around her shoulders, hanging down her back like a pair of wings.

  More importantly, she could feel the power in it, the way the formations woven throughout the fabric empowered dark and water natured qi as it flowed through her channels. The sheer toughness of the silk, superior to even steel, stitched itself back together when it was cut. And if she focused enough qi into the mantle, her feet would leave the ground, granting her flight for the short time her qi reserves allowed.

  Of course, Gu Xiulan chose to comment on none of this first.

  “It is so understated,” Gu Xiulan said with a pout as she looked her over with a critical eye. “I would have expected something flashier given Cai’s own propensities,” her friend added, plucking at the waist-length cloak that covered Ling Qi’s shoulders. “And really, what is this? I can hardly see you under there.”


  “I like it,” Ling Qi mused. The wide mouthed sleeves hung over her hands, and there were several concealed pockets in the lining. They were bigger on the inside too. It was nothing like a storage ring, but it would certainly make carrying her knives easier. She idly fingered the white sash cinched tightly around her waist. The layers of the gown should have left her feeling overheated, but instead, she felt pleasantly cool. She turned and the fabric swirled lightly around her legs, not catching or impeding her motions despite only being modestly split up to her calves. The motion created the illusion that the dark violet flowers decorating the lower half of the gown were blowing in the wind.

  “I suppose the shoes are rather nice,” Xiulan admitted grudgingly, crossing her arms under her chest as she considered the soft-soled calf height boots included with the outfit. “Still, it is a little plain……”


  “Right? Who could have imagined that someone I’ve spoken directly to all of twice would have a better handle on my tastes than one of my friends?” Ling Qi said dryly, quickly stepping over to the end table to catch Zhengui before he fell off the table. Zhengui had been trying to reach the dangling end of a potted plant placed on a higher shelf.

  “I only want what is best for you,” Xiulan replied haughtily. “It is hardly my fault that you fight me every step of the way. If you had your way, no one would ever look at you.”


  “And if you had

  way, I’d catch fire from embarrassment,” Ling Qi retorted, turning to face her friend as she flicked her wrist, drawing out one of the sticks Zhengui liked to gnaw on. She rolled her eyes as she saw Xiulan give her a sly look, parts of the other girl’s hair sparking and igniting as she opened her mouth to speak. “You know what I meant,” Ling Qi cut in before Xiulan could speak. “Besides, look, the cloak comes off easy enough.”


  She breathed out, and the qi infusing the garment shifted, the darkly colored mantle dissolving and exposing the back of the gown, which was embroidered with white flower petals.

  “That is better, I suppose.” Xiulan allowed the fires in her hair to fade, leaving not a single hair scorched. “You could still do with something more eye catching. Perhaps a few hair ornaments……” she mused, eyeing Ling Qi’s braid speculatively. “A bit of silver wire woven through your braid might catch the light well, or perhaps a gemstone clasp at the base.”


  “If you have any suggestions, I suppose I can take them,” Ling Qi sighed. “Just remember, we do have to be at the meeting point on time.”


  “Of course,” Xiulan said dismissively. “We have more than enough time to pick up a few complementing accessories and touch things up a bit. Presentation is a must when cowing one’s lessers after all,” she added brightly, the golden ornaments in her hair jingling as she took Ling Qi by the wrist and turned to lead her out.

  Ling Qi rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. It might be fun to try something new with her hair, she supposed. She was on a rather tight budget at the moment, but window shopping would be a good way to relax before the action started.

  Threads 83-Integration 1

  The Singing Mist Blade hummed in her grasp, its song quiet as she held it in front of her face, studying the curves of the metal and the uncountable characters finely etched into the curves of the twisting blade. A domain weapon was an odd thing, almost extraneous in many situations. Ling Qi’s acted as a pestering wasp, buzzing about enemies and distracting them, infecting her enemies with enfeebling qi through the medium of its song.

  But it never quite fit. She had trained until she could move it like she would any other limb, but holding it in her hand, it didn’t really feel like part of her body or spirit. It was just an attachment.

  Ling Qi released the polished handle, never meant for a wielder’s touch and let the blade float over her lap, humming softly and trailing mist. She looked up to see Cai Renxiang sitting across from her next to the vent in the heiress’ meditation room. Cai’s domain weapon, a twisting ribbon of silk hung with tiny bells, floated between her hands. The girl’s eyes were half closed, and the silk rippled with prismatic light. Ling Qi looked again at her own weapon with a frown, feeling it through her connection. Even as she wielded the blade with more precision than ever before, recently, her domain weapon had felt incongruous.

  “What is our plan, now that the challenges are closed?” Ling Qi asked, feeling the way her qi trickled through the artificial channels carved into her domain blade.

  “We need be at the forefront of the Sect’s military efforts,” Cai Renxiang answered calmly. “Our efforts during the incursion have been rewarded, have they not?”


  Ling Qi let out a disgruntled sound at the response. With the start of the eighth month, Ling Qi had made a notable jump from her previous rank of 756 to rank 730 based on her performance in defense of the three villages. Cai Renxiang had made a smaller but still respectable climb to rank 708, and most of her friends were steadily climbing as well. She glared at her unresponsive blade. “Is that really satisfactory?”


  Sixiang chuckled silently in her head.

  “It is not,” Cai Renxiang replied. She did not open her eyes. “But matters are being decided above our heads for the moment. We must prepare to snatch opportunity as it passes by, but to seek it out at this moment will reflect poorly upon us. I share a degree of your discontent however. We must be aggressive in volunteering for duty. I have signed up for front line operations in the Wall.”


  “Will they really let you do that?” Ling Qi asked, giving her liege a dubious look. Testing aside, she was still the heir of the Cai.

  “Mother would be displeased if they did not,” Cai Renxiang said with certainty, easily picking up Ling Qi’s real question.

  Sixiang grumbled.

  Ling Qi could see where Sixiang was coming from, and she didn’t disagree. While she would not claim to know Cai Renxiang’s heart, she was fairly certain that the girl had at least one thing in common with her. She would not be satisfied with less than her best.

  “My friend, Su Ling, hinted at something going on with the enemies below. Li Suyin is probably involved, too. I’ll see if I can get my name on the shortlist for that.”


  At that, Cai Renxiang cracked an eye open. “Is that so? Very good. I will be relying upon you to keep up. Please do not forget your other tasks.”


  Ling Qi pursed her lips. “That Wang guy, right? I’ll look into it.”


  Sixiang whispered.

  Ling Qi grunted in response. It wasn’t the first time Sixiang had suggested that strategy since they had “returned,” but it irked her pride. Wang Chao had been dismissive of her at the party. Approaching from a position of weakness didn’t sit right with her.

  “Do you believe you have finished forging your connection?” Cai Renxiang asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  Ling Qi glanced down at her weapon, feeling her qi soaked into every bit of its spiritual presence. Faintly, she heard the strain of an unclear melody. She cleared her mind, turning her focus fully back to the weapon and then nodded. “Yes. So what does integration entail?”


  “There are many texts available on the subject,” Cai Renxiang admonished.

  Ling Qi smiled faintly. “I learn better from people. Besides, I would like to know your thoughts on the matter, Lady Renxiang.”


  Cai Renxiang let out a dissatisfied hum, but she did not admonish her. Ling Qi took it as a tentatively good sign. Since that day at Zhengui’s hill, her liege had been a little more permissive in private. “At the most base mechanical level, it is an exercise in spiritual surgery, transferring an art and the meridians it occupies to new housing. It is permanent, the first of many such steps we will take on the road to the peak of cultivation. While this one is a small sacrifice, a matter of utility rather than true loss, it is wise to consider the implications well.”


  Thoughts of the sacrifices necessary for higher cultivation were troubling, but Ling Qi was well beyond the point of stopping. “And what is the point of that?”


  “It trains the mind for the stages which come after,” Cai Renxiang explained, letting her eyes drift shut again. “A cultivator is not merely their body, and a cultivator’s body is not merely flesh. Even if you can speak the words, you do not understand them without experience. These exercises replace much trial and error which our ancestors needed to perform to ascend the realms.”


  Ling Qi understood. “You called that explanation base and mechanical. Is there something more to it?”


  Cai Renxiang was silent for a time, but eventually, she answered. “It is not possible to excise and transfer a piece of your spirit to a new bodily vessel without affecting yourself. You know that climbing the realms of cultivation requires sacrifices, things cast aside. What you place in your domain weapon is something which will remain with you always.”


  “If you do not mind, what did you put in your weapon?”


  The silk floating between Cai Renxiang’s hands rippled, and the bells sounded faintly, ephemeral and echoing. The crimson eyes splayed across her chest narrowed in hunger. “My desire for purity. You know well my attitude toward disorder and uncleanliness.”


  “I said I was sorry for putting the tea leaves back wrong,” Ling Qi mumbled. Rarely had she seen her liege more blatantly incensed as she had been this morning. “That doesn’t sound like something you would want to be rid of though.”


  “It is not. Nor is removal the purpose of the exercise,” Cai Renxiang said. “For as long as I can remember, I took pleasure in ordering my surroundings, even more so after my awakening. Yet the world is untidy. It can be improved, but my plans will never be executed to perfection. This is not because the world cannot be predicted or ordered, but because I have failed to account for all factors. It is important to be able to accept some degree of disorder and uncleanliness in action, but it is more important to not forget the goal I am seeking past that tolerance.”


  Ling Qi nodded slowly. “It’s what drives you. By enshrining it in your domain, you make sure you never lose touch with it.”


  “Precisely,” Cai Renxiang agreed.

  Ling Qi hummed. It was a little peek into the other girl’s head, and for all that Sixiang grumbled, she even understood, just a little. Though she had never been in a position to act on it, wasn’t having things in order, having things under control, something that anyone would want? She had spent many a night out in the cold, wishing she had more control over her life, even if she had not understood that to be the core of her wish.

  Sixiang grumbled.

  “How does that work with people who have multiple domain weapons or change them later?”


  “The weapon is just the physical housing. Although the process is longer and more difficult, it remains possible to transfer the meridians to a new device,” Cai Renxiang explained. “Multiple weapons are a matter of style and arts. It is unusual to have more than one integrated weapon. It would be counter intuitive given that the domain weapon is a practice exercise for the functions of higher cultivation. Perhaps it might be useful if one were certain that they were not going to reach the fourth realm.”


  Ling Qi looked at her blade, thinking of which art to enshrine in her domain. Over the previous day and this morning, she had considered integrating her mentor Zeqing’s most potent gift, the Frozen Soul Serenade, and the sometimes clashing, but often decisive, art from Elder Ying, Thousand Ring Fortress. But again and again, she came back to her oldest active art, the one first granted to her by Xin in Elder Zhou’s trial, and the one which had seen her through so many trials, the Forgotten Vale Melody,

  “Have you decided?” Cai Renxiang asked.

  Ling Qi breathed out and nodded. “My Forgotten Vale Melody. What else?” Ling Qi asked rhetorically, smiling faintly. The Forgotten Vale Melody and the Sable Crescent Step had been the arts that allowed her to begin growing in truth. Sable Crescent Step would be succeeded by the Laughing Flight of the Wind Thief art and so would stay with her, but there was no such continuance for her melody.

  Perhaps in time, she could have gone out, questing for the vale where the traveler had composed the melody, but Ling Qi thought that would be missing the point. It was never the actual, physical vale that mattered. And besides, wasn’t it better to make the melody her own, rather than chasing someone else’s insights?

  Cai Renxiang merely nodded, not privy to her thoughts. “Very good. I trust I need not review the Sect’s lessons in meridian compression?”


  Ling Qi shook her head absently as she closed her eyes, turning her attention inward. Silver light flickered under her eyelids as a single mirror-like wisp manifested in the air, and she examined herself through it. It was not often that she focused so closely on her spiritual self. Between her resources and Suyin’s meridian talisman, the opening of meridians had become a trivial task, something to be done swiftly between more intensive cultivation.

  Her dantian blazed like a miniature star. A churning elemental furnace encased in soft, reflective silver, the light within blazed through the argent skin. Her meridians shone in their multitude; lines of the deepest black wound through her legs, a thick bundle of verdant green coiled around shimmering rainbow ran straight up her spine, veins of gleaming ice descended her arms and branched out through her fingertips, and threads of colorless and silver qi wound through her head and curled around her eyes and ears with even more curled in her chest, nesting her heart and lungs.

  She had many more meridians than an average cultivator could ever hope to open. Cai Renxiang was much the same. Briefly, she turned her attention to the other girl. Cai’s meridians were a dense web of metal, mountain stone, and blinding light. Where Ling Qi’s channels were an organic tangle, Cai Renxiang’s meridians were all right angles and straight lines.

  It would not stay easy forever. Her spirit, already dense with spiritual channels, would require more and more care. She had already used most of the “easy” spaces where veins of impurity ran, leaving space that could be cleared for use with relative ease. Soon, she would have to begin carefully carving new channels where no clear paths lay. The elder in charge of the lessons had been very clear on how painstaking the process was if a cultivator wanted to avoid causing themselves great harm by disrupting or damaging their extant meridians.

  Ling Qi let out a breath and quieted her whirling thoughts, feeling the phantom sensation of Sixiang’s hands resting reassuringly on her shoulders. She needed to focus. Right now, she had some compression to do.

  ***

  Forgotten Vale Melody was her most familiar art, but it was still afternoon by the time she had opened her eyes, having finished the task of weaving the patterns of the melody into only three channels. Cai Renxiang still sat across from her, not having moved a single centimeter since she had closed her eyes. Ling Qi rolled her shoulders once out of habit, having long left behind simple aches. “Finished.”


  Cai Renxiang’s eyes opened, and the feeling of surging qi that came with spiritual cultivation subsided. “I see. You are prepared to begin the procedure then?”


  “Yes,” Ling Qi said. “I don’t want to waste your time. Thank you for offering to show me how this is done.”


  “It is no trouble,” Cai Renxiang replied evenly. “I am merely doing my duty.”


  “And the invitation to morning tea?” Ling Qi asked lightly. “I didn’t mind the sampling—that Ebon Rivers blend you had was great—but I’d hardly call that ‘duty.’”


  Cai Renxiang gave her a hard look and then proceeded to ignore her statement. “Focus upon the meridians that you intend to transfer.”


  Ling Qi sighed and turned her attention inward again. What worked on Meizhen did not work for Cai Renxiang; the girl was not exactly reactive to teasing. Their relationship was still kind of awkward, and Ling Qi wasn’t quite sure yet what level of familiarity was acceptable. It made her feel better that Sixiang was pretty sure that the same was true for Cai Renxiang.

  Sixiang teased. Ling Qi ignored them with great dignity, focusing on her task. The three meridians she intended to transfer stood out in her mind’s eye.

  “Feel the places where your spirit touches upon the physical world,” Cai Renxiang continued. “It is these that you will need to excise. Do not tamper with the meridian’s connection to your dantian. Doing so will only destroy it.”


  “Understood,” Ling Qi murmured. They were bright spots like glimmering pinpricks on her heart and lungs scattered semi-randomly along the channel’s length. “How do I go about severing the connection?”


  “Your channels are a part of you. It is simply a matter of will,” Cai Renxiang answered. “I found the visualization of needles and thread useful, imagining it as plucking a single thread from a tapestry. I suspect you will require something of a more musical bent.”


  Cai Renxiang wasn’t wrong. She focused upon the channel brimming with music qi. It was easy to shift her understanding of meridians as lines of color to something more musical. The image she held in her mind dissolved, replaced by the thrumming of a song. It had an unsteady and uncertain beat, but Ling Qi liked to imagine there was some beauty in it. Absently, she hummed to herself, feeling out the ways that the channels twitched and reacted to the changing tune. There was a sharp pain whenever she began to pull one away, and she grimaced.

  “Is it supposed to hurt?” she asked.

  “Yes,” her liege said. “Once you have loosened the meridian from its connections, you must move it into the vessel you have prepared and reestablish its connection in the new housing. As you do so, you will need to focus upon the part of yourself which you wish to integrate into the domain weapon. This is needed to solidify the new connections and prevent their fraying and breaking. Do not rush this. It will likely take you a day or two to complete the process.”


  “Understood.” Ling Qi breathed out. “Is it alright if I stay here while I do the exercise then?”


  “I have already cleared the matter with the Sect,” Cai Renxiang replied. Ling Qi heard the faint rustle of cloth as the other girl stood up. “I will check on your progress as time allows.”


  Ling Qi nodded absently as the other girl left, the door to the meditation room closing with a click behind her. Now, she was alone with her thoughts, and Sixiang, of course.

  “Thanks for remembering,” Sixiang whispered on the wind. “I’ll keep quiet and let you concentrate. Be careful, Ling Qi.”