Thoughts of the future continued to niggle at her as she went on to meet up with Gu Xiulan and the others from Golden Fields. Today was the first day the group would be back together for training again.

  It was…… more than a little awkward. Gu Xiulan practically radiated defiance and pride while Fan Yu and Heijin were subdued at best. Han Jian put on an upbeat front, but she could tell that he could feel the tension too. Han Fang was as inscrutable as ever, though he had picked up a few faint scars over his lips.

  Nevertheless, after Han Jian lead them through a bit of practice to ensure that they could still work together, they set off to explore the eastern foothills.

  Ling Qi got quite a bit of practice with her Fleeting Zephyr successor arte, bolstering everyone’s agility with the wind and speeding their steps. Doing it for so many people at once really helped her cultivate her control of the art. Of course, the exceedingly potent medicinal energy burning in her dantian was quite the distraction, but even that helped her hone her focus. Her core stretched and pulsed, growing with each rotation of energy.

  The exploration itself had mixed results. They didn’t find much of interest, but her share of the cores gained from hunting would go a long way toward keeping Zhengui fed this week. The travel was good for the little spirit as well. Although he tired out quickly, letting him out when they stopped to clean their kills or poke around an area more closely gave him some time to stretch his legs.

  The hunt was stressful. Xiulan snapped easily at Fan Yu and Han Fang, which put both boys in a bad mood. Even Heijin was hesitant to approach her. Ling Qi left feeling rather more weary than the physical exertion would account for.

  Luckily, she had time for some actual relaxation before the evening session with the prickly Elder Jiao.

  “So, what’s this one mean? I didn’t see it on your sheet.” Ling Qi tapped her finger against a clump of characters in the pale white tome. She was seated next to Suyin. It was a little uncomfortable to be brushing shoulders like this, but it was the only way to effectively hold the book between them.

  Li Suyin frowned at the same section, biting her lower lip as she glanced at the long, unrolled scroll of language notes lying open in front of them. “I think…… circulation? This section is discussing the energy flow in the basic animating array.”


  Ling Qi furrowed her brows, looking up at Suyin’s translation notes while silently mouthing the sounds, committing them to memory. Suyin had spent the last week putting together a primer on the ancient Hill tribe language. Ling Qi wondered how a Cloud Tribe shaman had found it. With a primer, studying was going faster, but it was still difficult.“I should have been able to figure that out,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Do you want to take a break?”


  “I don’t mind,” Li Suyin replied, taking the book from Ling Qi. She was looking healthier now that she had broken through to Silver. She still had her scars, but the slightly pale and sickly cast Ling Qi had noticed her developing had gone away, and she seemed more energetic. “This is just so interesting though. I cannot wait to try out the arrays!” Li Suyin declared, jarring her from her thoughts.

  “Yeah, it’s still pretty simple, but I can see some uses for it,” Ling Qi mused. They had worked out the details to the first array depicted in the book, which would create a scout out of the bones of something small like a mouse or a frog. It wouldn’t be of much use in combat, but Ling Qi could understand the value of a disposable set of eyes. “Expensive though.”


  “Well, I can understand the need for a pure conductor,” Li Suyin said, a bit of her cheer deflated. “Spirit stone powder is expensive, but the alternative……” Li Suyin looked unsettled as she glanced down at the book.

  “I don’t like the idea of using ‘freshly drawn human heart blood’ either,” Ling Qi agreed with a grimace. “Sorry, Li Suyin. The guy I took this from was kind of a scumbag.”


  “No, it’s fine,” her friend said dismissively. “As Imperial cultivators, it is our duty to turn such things to better and more civilized use.”


  “Yeah,” Ling Qi replied, glad that she was taking it well. “Congratulations again on breaking through by the way,” she added, bumping her shoulder against the other girl’s.

  “It was nothing.” Suyin turned her face away shyly. “Really, I should be ashamed of taking as long as I did. I just wanted it to be as perfect as possible…… Senior Sister Bao finally told me to stop stalling.”


  Ling Qi gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, breakthroughs can be rough…… Did you remember to have a bucket nearby?”


  Li Suyin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Yes, but it was still disgusting. I cannot believe that…… sludge was part of me.” She grasped her knees in distress.

  “It’s part of everyone,” Ling Qi pointed out dryly. “I looked like someone had covered me in a bucket of tar.” A small giggle escaped her friend’s lips, and Ling Qi smiled.

  “I wasn’t any better,” Suyin admitted, leaning back against the cliff face they were seated against. “It still feels like it isn’t enough.”


  Ling Qi closed her eyes, a vision of Gu Xiulan’s charred arm flashing through her mind. “You don’t need to be quick about it. As long as you keep moving forward, isn’t it fine?” Ling Qi asked, her voice low. She didn’t need more of her friends half killing themselves.

  Li Suyin gave her a concerned look and nodded quickly. “Of course. I know I am being silly.” After a beat of silence, she said, “I wanted to ask something of you actually.”


  “Oh? Need me to rough someone up for you?” Ling Qi joked, trying to dismiss her own somber mood.

  “Nothing like that,” Li Suyin assured her. “Senior Sister Bao has given me directions to the place where she acquired her own spirit,” Suyin continued in a rush, “and I was hoping you would come with me.”


  Ling Qi cocked her head to the side curiously. “I don’t mind, but I might be busy. Is it that dangerous?”


  “It’s fine if you are not able to accompany me immediately,” Li Suyin said, toying with her sleeves. “I intend to perform a ritual supplication toward the elder spirit of the nest, and Senior Sister indicated that I might be…… somewhat incapacitated after.”


  That was weird. But she had heard of some rituals that required alcohol or drugs, so it wasn’t the weirdest result. “That sounds fine. Are you inviting Su Ling too?”


  “Ah,” Li Suyin sighed. “Su Ling is…… not very fond of spiders. I didn’t want to impose……”


  “Oh.” Ling Qi was reminded that a nest of gigantic spiders lay in the forest at the base of the mountain. “
. I can see how you might not want to……” She trailed off awkwardly. She knew some people were weirdly afraid of bugs and spiders, but she hadn’t guessed Su Ling would be one of them. “That’s fine,” she finished.

  “I’m glad,” Li Suyin said, relieved. “In any case, shall we resume? Now that we know the base components, deciphering the more complex arrays should be easier. I think we might be able to decipher the Vault Warrior array with just a little more work.”


  Upon Suyin’s agreement, Ling Qi shifted closer, looking over Suyin’s shoulder as the girl traced a finger under the foreign text. It really was nice to relax now and then.

  ***

  “You know,” Ling Qi began as she raised her hand to shield her face from the hard, biting wind. “Something you said a while ago confused me,” she said as the snow and ice littering the path crunched under her feet.

  “What might that have been?” Zeqing asked absently. Unlike Ling Qi, the spirit floated easily ahead of her, drifting like a leaf on the wind while Ling Qi carefully made her way up the nearly vertical ice-slicked path. “You have not had trouble with the melody.”


  “No, it’s just-” Ling Qi paused. She was somewhat wary of raising the subject; she didn’t want to find out what skidding down the mountain on her rear would feel like. “You said that Hanyi was spending time with her father, right? But, uh, you also said you devoured him. So…… Did you remarry or something?”


  The ice spirit’s blood red lips turned down in a slight frown, and a few flakes of snow fell, penetrating the cocoon of clear weather that surrounded them. “Ah. That must have seemed strange to a young mortal. Sadly, I have not found another appropriate suitor.” Zeqing sighed, gazing wistfully off into the blizzard that surrounded them.

  “Then how……?” Ling Qi questioned, hauling herself up over a ledge while the spirit floated on unimpeded.

  “It was brought to my attention that a child does best with both parents,” Zeqing explained, turning her blank white gaze to Ling Qi’s face. “I expressed the remaining fragments of his spirit into an ice revenant. It is a bit tiring, but Hanyi seems to enjoy playing with it.”


  “Is that…… safe?” Ling Qi asked uncertainly. That didn’t sound safe. Or healthy. At all.

  “I hardly kept the more objectionable pieces of him undigested,” Zeqing replied archly before drifting higher toward the top of the rise they were climbing. “I believe we have arrived.”


  “Where are we going anyway?” LIng Qi asked, setting aside the somewhat disturbing conversation. She blinked as she reached the top as well and found herself looking out at a wide field of untouched white snow curving away into the distance, hugging the sheer cliffs that lead closer to the peak. They were very high up at this point with the clouds seeming barely out of reach.

  All told, it was a beautiful sight, and in that moment, Ling Qi felt a thrill of happiness that she now had the strength to see such a place with her own eyes. The sting of frigid cold at her extremities was a minor cost to pay for such a sight.

  “You near mastery of that man’s melody,” Zeqing began, her silver hair rippling in the wind as Ling Qi passed her, peering into the distance where falling snow rendered the horizon an opaque white. “But you are still lacking. I thought a change of venue might push your understanding forward.”


  Ling Qi took a deep breath of frozen air, feeling the way the wind qi played against her extended senses. It was a powerful thing, and the qi of water and mountain was strong as well, but this site hardly seemed better than the black pool. “Is there something special about this place that I’m missing?” Ling Qi asked, turning back to face the ice spirit.

  The wind kicked up, sending the spirit’s empty gown and hair fluttering with increasing intensity. “You misunderstand,” the spirit explained gently, and the snow began to fall, her power no longer holding back the blizzard that raged around them. “You have mastered the notes and the melody, but the truth of it – the feeling – yet escapes you.”


  Ling Qi felt a thrill of dread as the snowfall grew greater and her teacher’s form began to fade into the blizzard. She was suddenly and unpleasantly reminded that she was alone with a fourth grade spirit with few, if any, compunctions against murder.

  “Lady Zeqing?” she asked, reverting to a more polite form of address. “Please tell me what you are doing?!” Her flute materialized in one hand and a knife fell into her other. She might not have a fighting chance, but surely she could escape if things went bad.

  A shrieking gale blasted her, shredding her paltry attempt at control and sending her tumbling end over end into the snow. The dizziness as she was carried spinning through the air destroyed any sense of place or direction. Her knife was torn from her hands, tumbling off to vanish into the storm.

  “Music is an exquisite art. It is the spirit expressed through sound.” Zeqing’s voice reached her, seeming to come from every direction. “Such pitiful mortal understanding is only the beginning of mastery. Sound is neither wind nor thunder. Such things cannot truly bear the weight of a soul’s expression.”


  “What does any of that have to do with this!” Ling Qi screamed into the blinding blizzard, snow already crusting her hair and gown. It stung her eyes and burned on her skin, far colder than before.

  “It is the only weapon available to you,” Zeqing replied, not unkindly, her voice echoing on the screaming of the wind. “And your only salvation. I shall await you at the exit.”


  Ling Qi grit her teeth, tears stinging in her eyes as she tried to look for any sign of where she was. No matter where she looked though, there was only snow. Even with her enhanced senses, she could not see more than a few centimeters in front of her face, nor feel anything beyond an overwhelming torrent of darkness, wind, and water mixed with something else, a light qi that merged with the rest, barely detectable.

  It was a test. Of course it was a test. Every single Elder and Spirit seemed to just

  their tests!

  She began to stir the cool and smooth dark qi to activate Crescent’s Grace, which would allow her to more easily move through the driving winds. But nothing happened. The qi flowing through her channels seemed frozen and unresponsive, refusing to move at her command. True alarm bloomed.

  As if in response to the attempt, Ling Qi felt something slice across her cheek. She flinched as she felt the skin part, warm blood flowing down her face, and her skin prickled as the snow driven against it took on a harder cast like needles of ice.

  She tried Thousand Ring Fortress next, and that, too, failed, the lively qi of wood just as frozen and dead as the other channels. Another sharp needle of ice stung, this time drawing a pinprick of blood on her hand. Ling Qi still had no idea how the spirit had sealed her other arts, but she could only assume Zeqing was being serious about using music to escape the blizzard. She raised her flute to her frozen lips and began to play.

  The mist she called was immediately torn away, the flow from her flute far outstripped by the driving wind, but it was all she could do. She began to trudge forward, playing the familiar melody even as its sound was drowned out by the storm.

  She didn’t know how long she trudged, seeking any sort of landmark or indication of where she was. All she knew was that she could certainly feel the cold now. She could feel it creeping into her bones, numbing her fingers, and stinging her eyes. She did her best not to falter in her playing, no matter how futile it seemed, while she desperately wracked her mind for some part of the melody she had not understood. Something that would let her counteract the cold. Something to keep her stiffening limbs moving.

  She lost count of the tiny cuts that sliced her exposed skin. She barely recognized her braid tearing loose, leaving her long hair to flap in the wind, just one more thing dragging her back.

  She remembered her first winter after running away, shivering alone in an alley. She had come the closest to breaking then, to running back to her mother in tears, ready to sacrifice her freedom for a warm hearth and the safety of her mother’s arms.

  She remembered the kind old man whose blankets she had stolen, and in turn, the beating she had received when an older, stronger boy had taken them from her weeks later. She remembered sobbing alone as she clutched her broken arm while uncaring passersby ignored the huddled lump on the street corner.

  She remembered loneliness and abandonment, the cruelty of the uncaring wilderness, unchanged by its urban nature. The mist flowing from her flute thickened, resisting the wind as it flowed down like water, engulfing her feet and legs. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t comforting, but it was hers, and it rejected the external cold and driving shards of ice.

  It wasn’t enough. Her notes were torn away the moment they left her flute, lost to the howling of the blizzard. She felt her understanding of the melody growing as the mist expanded, engulfing her figure and granting her a tiny, precious meter of sight, but she was still barely making progress. The power of the storm was simply too great to contest.

  Zeqing had said something, something about music being spirit and soul. She had said mere sound was insufficient to express it in full. That didn’t make sense! How could she have music without sound?! It sounded like part of some stupid koan.

  But Ling Qi was not a mortal anymore. It seemed strange that she had to keep reminding herself, but it was so easy to forget when she was always surrounded by other cultivators. She could jump higher, hit harder, and think more clearly, but it was all so gradual that it was hard to notice before it just became her new normal.

  A cultivator

  normal.

  wasn’t normal. She could flow through a space smaller than her own head as a ribbon of darkness and fly with a magical gown! She could summon mist to confound her foes and sap their will or fill her friends with the vitality and toughness of an ancient oak!

  Why then should her melody be unheard just because of the wind?

  Something thrummed deep inside of her like the plucked string of a guqin, and she felt her qi change. The rumbling thunder that had filled her as she further mastered her melody faded and became lighter like the notes of a song drifting through the evening sky.

  Her melody was no longer drowned out. Instead, it

  out through the storm, carried on pure qi. Although her ears could not hear it, her soul could. The music was as clear as if played on a calm summer’s day. Her mist exploded outward, doubling and then quadrupling in volume, utterly unaffected by the wind. Her fingers danced across the apertures of her flute, faster and more dexterous than any mortal musician could match.

  As her mist roiled around her, the storm slackened. In front of her, Zeqing hovered peacefully only a short distance away in the now gently falling snow. Meanwhile, behind her, Ling Qi could see her own tracks going in a wide circle. She must have tramped through her own trail a dozen times or more and not noticed at all. She lowered her flute slowly and glared at Zeqing as she trudged toward the spirit, feeling angry and hurt.

  “Why?” she demanded, stopping just out of arm’s length. “Why the hell didn’t you warn me first?”


  Zeqing cocked her head to the side, something like earnest confusion on her pale face. “There was no need. You met my expectations admirably.”


  “And if I hadn’t?” Ling Qi asked flatly.

  “You may have died,” Zeqing admitted, looking bemused. “How could you expect a true understanding from anything less?”


  Ling Qi took a deep breath. “It wouldn’t bother you at all if I had died, would it?”


  Zeqing frowned, her gown fluttering less as the wind died down. “It would have been a disappointment,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you truly think yourself so unskilled?”


  “That’s not……!” Ling Qi said in frustration. “That’s not the point. I don’t like being thrown into that kind of situation against my will!”


  “I see,” the spirit replied, still seeming lost at Ling Qi’s anger. “I will keep that in mind?” she added questioningly.

  Ling Qi closed her eyes for a moment. “Sure…… I’m heading down the mountain now. I need a break.”


  “Very well,” Zeqing said slowly. “I shall see you next time then?”


  “Yeah,” Ling Qi replied without feeling as she stalked past the spirit. Her gown flared out, allowing her to begin the flight down, since she still couldn’t feel her toes. She wasn’t sure she would be coming back.

  Threads 115-Intermission 5

  “I think they’ve had enough, Miss Ling!” Wang Chao’s voice echoed from outside the mist. Ling Qi glanced at the remaining young man, who was nodding fervently.

  They had been at this for a while.

  Lowering her flute, Ling Qi let the phantoms fade. “You can let up, Zhengui,” she said, turning to face her little brother.

  Behind Zhengui was the hastily constructed stone “fort” that was the object of the exercise. Around them was a maze of ash clouds and root ramparts, which he had raised over the course of it, choking off approaches more and more while Ling Qi flitted around buying him time.

  It had been an enjoyable little exercise.

  Ling Qi smiled as she rested a hand on his blunt snout. “Good work. I think our strategy worked pretty well.”


  Gui didn’t look fully pleased. “Big Sister was holding back.”


  Ling Qi snorted. “Of course I was. Everyone was working with new arts. That was the point. It’s important to practice my new arts to fully understand them.” She hadn’t even gotten to starting to learn her replacement for Thousand Ring Fortress yet. “With this practice, you’re improving your ramparts, too. You’ve gotten much better and faster with them.”


  “Foolish Gui should cease doubting his own power,” Zhen hissed. “We are mighty, and we will only grow mightier still.”


  “A good attitude to have!” They both looked up as Wang Chao spoke, striding through the withering remains of the walls. “I must say, it is a good thing that between your beast and I, repairing the landscape is so easy.”


  Ling Qi turned to him and bowed. “It is good to let loose without worry.”


  “Using our explosion is fun,” Gui muttered.

  “It is enjoyable to watch,” Wang Chao agreed, turning to survey the other disciples, who were only now climbing to their feet. Those who had more notable injuries were heading back to the pavilion where a medical disciple was waiting. “It would have been a better test if your enemies had better tactics,” he added with a frown.

  “I wouldn’t blame them,” Ling Qi replied. “It takes a lot of drill to turn random cultivators into a unit, doesn’t it?”


  “It does. Perhaps I am being unreasonable,” he pondered. In a much louder voice, he called out, “That was fine work facing a stronger foe, everyone!”


  There was a ragged cry of agreement.

  “Will I be facing you soon, Sir Wang?” Ling Qi asked.

  “I intend to put on a proper lesson and spar tomorrow,” Wang Chao agreed, turning back to her and Zhengui. “Your beast has taken quite well to my words on battlefield control.”


  “Mister Avalanche gives good advice,” Gui agreed, seeming to perk up. “Gui was not sure he could control so many walls at once.”


  “It is not my personal specialty, but I remember my lessons. You will be quite a boon to any battle with a little coordination, even if you lose focus easily sometimes, Sir Zhengui. Being able to set and manipulate the approaches of a battlefield is very useful.” Wang Chao grinned. “And of course, Miss Ling is quite frightening in her ability to deny enemy cohesion.”


  “Not frightening enough I think,” Ling Qi said, thinking back to the underground fort and the enemy commander who had so easily denied her.

  “Hah, Miss Ling is too modest. You are a very frightening woman indeed, according to most!” Wang Chao laughed.

  Ling Qi frowned. Somehow, the way he said that made it seem bad.

  “Big Sis is the scariest one,” Gui said proudly.

  That just made her feel worse.

  “Hey, you get the reputation you earn,” Sixiang teased.

  Ling Qi huffed. “I think I need a few moments to cultivate my reserves back to full, if you don’t mind.”


  “Of course. I think I would like to slake my thirst myself,” Wang said affably, turning away. “Will you join us in the pavilion after?”


  Ling Qi considered, eyeing the other end of the field where Alingge and the disciples’ spirit beasts were gathered. Despite her efforts, Zhengui had not been particularly social yet, and she did want to speak with the girl about some things. If anyone could help her work through her conundrum regarding her spirits, surely it was someone who even Zhengui called “Beastkeeper.”


  While she was supposed to be here primarily to influence Wang Chao, she was also going to spar with him tomorrow.

  “Yes, I will be along shortly,” Ling Qi said, dipping her head deferentially.

  “Very good. I will see you there,” Wang Chao said with a grin. He really seemed to be enjoying himself at these gatherings.

  As he strode away, Ling Qi turned back to Zhengui and held back a frown. She could tell that her little brother was still discontent. “I’ll only be gone for a little while. Do you think that you’ll be fine?”


  “Of course. Big Sister should not doubt,” Zhen hissed. Gui remained silent.

  Ling Qi studied him. “Zhengui, you really are doing well, okay?”


  “Gui is glad,” he said, but it didn’t feel sincere.

  Sixiang murmured.

  Ling Qi didn’t like it, but Sixiang was right. Still, she reached out to pat Zhengui on the head, trying to convey the pride she felt in his ability. He pressed his head against her hand before turning and lumbering away to begin spreading ash to restore the field.

  Ling Qi sighed and sat down to meditate and recover her qi. If a silver wisp escaped the hem of her dress to hide among the tall grass and keep an eye on Zhengui, no one was going to notice.

  ***

  A few minutes of meditation did much to help her center herself and prepare for interacting with others again. Honestly, the people here were a relatively straightforward lot. The disciples consisted of a few baronial scions, as well as the children of soldiers and crafters, here to raise their family’s status or deepen connections to the Sect.

  It was not exactly a gathering of the politically connected.

  It was with that thought firmly in mind that she entered the pavilion.

  Outside, Zhengui was still wandering the field, idly scattering ash and regrowing burnt plant life. There were a handful of other disciples out there, still sparring or talking, as well as Alingge and the many spirit beasts, but none seemed inclined to approach him.

  She hoped he wouldn’t spend the whole time alone.

  “Welcome, Miss Ling. Feeling recovered?” Wang Chao asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  Ling Qi smiled politely. “I am. I hope everyone else is feeling well, too.”


  Ling Qi scanned the people present. Liang He was present, standing off to one side. There were also a half dozen people, including the girl with the iron fans who had been participating in the exercise. Ling Qi had made sure to learn everyone’s names this time.

  Sixiang piped in silently.

  “We are not all so fragile,” the girl with the iron fans, Hou Min, said, giving one of the others a haughty look.

  Bo Jun, the one who had been wielding the spear, gave her an irritable look. “Of course, Miss Hou. You are welcome to take the vanguard for the next…… How many times was it?”


  “Five, at my count,” Wang Chao cut in, bulling heedlessly into the conversation. “Even if you were wavering on that last one.”


  “It was an impressive effort.” Ling Qi had to admit, she couldn’t fault him for being eager to see the end of the exercise after how many times they had reset the field. Still, she wished that she had been able to cultivate the social art she had intended to work on before this, but with her injury, there just hadn’t been enough time.

  “Miss Ling is most impressive, there is no shame in a loss to her,” Liang He said.

  “With a cultivation schedule such as hers, it should be no surprise,” one of the other disciples commented.

  “Practically a hermit, some say,” another said lightly.

  Ling Qi smiled, ignoring the implication. “Naturally, one must work very hard to meet the expectations of Lady Cai. I would never wish to shame her by appearing to slack in my growth.”


  “Mm, Miss Ling likes to play at mystery, but she is surprisingly practical,” Wang Chao said. “I think you have done too good a job with your public image!”


  “I may have presented too hard a face at first,” Ling Qi admitted demurely. It wasn’t a bad time to admit a small fault. “It does sadden me that I may have made myself unwelcoming to the less brash of my peers.”


  Of course, there was no need to take all of the blame.

  Outside, Zhengui was surveying his work. One of the spirit beasts, a tiny sparrow, alighted on a fence post nearby and began twittering. Zhengui looked confused.

  “I think Miss Ling’s achievements speak for themselves,” said another of the gathered disciples, a mousy girl with dark brown hair and a complexion similar to Ling Qi’s.

  “On that, we can agree. Already, stories of your quick thinking down in the caverns have begun to spread,” Wang Chao said pompously. “They say that it was only your efforts that saved the expedition from ruin.”


  “That overstates matters,” Ling Qi demurred. It felt odd to see so many people hanging on her words. It would be one thing if she were performing, but she was only trading words. “Commander Guan Zhi and Senior Sect Brother Liao Zhu were ultimately responsible for our success. I merely had the ability to blunt the damage from the transport malfunction.”


  “It is worrying that a work by our Elder Jiao failed in such a way,” Bo Jun said with a frown.

  “It was an unforeseen environmental effect,” Ling Qi said smoothly. That was the line they were told to stick to. “Discovering such things was, after all, the purpose of our expedition.”


  “And it was certainly a brave thing to volunteer for such a task,” Wang Chao said cheerfully. “Too often do those who eschew valour wheedle their way to prominence. Despite your background, you are quite the warrior, Miss Ling.”


  Ling Qi kept her expression neutral as she moved to take a cup of cider from the refreshments table and the others began to discuss their own experiences with the war effort so far. That was…… probably meant as a compliment. Wang Chao was not, as she learned him to be, backhanded; he was just somewhat inconsiderate.

  Outside, the bird had fluttered away, and Zhengui was heading toward the feeding troughs that had been placed out for the larger beasts. Unlike the pavilion where the majority of the disciples were standing near the tables sipping and nibbling at treats, the troughs were occupied by only a single beast, Wang Chao’s black mountain goat.

  As Zhengui trundled up, the other beast paused in his chewing and turned a gimlet eye to her little brother. Zhengui stopped, and something passed between them. Zhen hissed, arching his body to look down, and the goat turned, staring him down fearlessly.

  Ling Qi’s eyebrows rose as Zhen let out a sizzling hiss. The goat lowered his horned head, thick neck muscles tensing under shaggy fur. Gui stamped his feet, and the goat pawed the ground.

  She turned toward the entrance to the pavilion, but before she could open her mouth to speak, there was a massive thunderclap from outside, and the cloth of the pavilion rustled in the wind.

  Outside, Zhengui had skidded backward some six or seven meters, digging deep furrows with his feet and leaving a trail of snapped off roots. The goat, on the other hand, had steaming venom running down the front of his head, and he shook himself irritably, flinging away sizzling drops.

  “Sir Wang—” she began.

  She was cut off by the stout young man’s laughter. Wang Chao was peering out of the tent. “It looks like our beasts are having a bit of fun without us, Miss Ling.”


  Ling Qi’s eyebrows rose as she saw Zhengui stomping on the ground, raising spearing roots that deflected off of shaggy fur. The goat responded by lowering his head and launching himself forward horns first again. Gui pulled his head back into his shell, and there was a thunderclap of impact again. She saw Zhengui’s feet actually leave the ground for a second as he was launched backward.

  “Sir Wang, perhaps we should go out and settle things down,” she said, resisting the urge to rush out. It wasn’t like Zhengui was actually hurt, but……

  “Ah, do not be so concerned, Miss Ling. Such is just Fensui’s way of giving greeting. He certainly knocked me for a loop the first time we met! That beast of yours is more than tough enough to handle his hello,” Wang Chao dismissed.

  Ling Qi was about to express her doubt, but looking outside, as Zhengui hit the ground with a thump and shook himself, the goat, Fensui, had already turned back to the trough. Zhen hissed angrily, and Fensui raised his head briefly, ears flicking irritably. Something passed between them again, and Zhengui stared in bafflement. When he took a step forward, it was a cautious one, but there was no reaction. Soon, he was at the feeding trough again.

  Sixiang advised.

  “Your beast truly is remarkable. Where ever did you find such a creature?” Hou Min asked casually, bringing back the conversation that had fallen silent with the thunderclap.

  “Zhengui was a bit of incredible good fortune,” Ling Qi said, still keeping an eye on the two spirit beasts through the wisp. They were clearly still communicating, and it seemed semi-hostile to her still. “I found his egg on the grounds of the Outer Sect. I can’t say any more than that.”


  “I wish I had been half so fortunate in my findings during my year,” Bo Jun lamented. “I suppose that explains the odd match the two of you make though.”


  “What do you mean?” Ling Qi asked, glancing at the older boy.

  He straightened up under her gaze. “Ah, only that your cultivation elements do not match well,” he said hastily.

  “It is a little unusual,” Wang Chao said. “I suppose you had your style laid out before you found him?”


  “To an extent,” Ling Qi hedged. “Is it really so odd to have a spirit beast which does not match your elements?”


  “It is unusual,” Liang He repeated carefully from his spot near the table. “Most cultivators choose their beasts to match, or they cultivate with a companion who matches their blood in older clans.”


  “It might be unusual, but I do not think there is anything wrong with it,” the mousy girl who had spoken up before said. “It does not harm the beast or the cultivator.”


  “I imagine it can be quite trying though, bonding with a beast which you have so little in common with,” Wang Chao mused.

  Ling Qi tried to hide her growing unease. “I would not call Zhengui ‘trying.’ What about you, Sir Wang? Going by what you said, your Fensui was always surly. Is that not more difficult?”


  Wang Chao laughed. “Not at all! Fensui and I get along quite well. Since the day we met on the painted cliffs of Mount Lengjin, we have understood each other quite well. We have climbed every peak in the Wang holdings together, and we will see the tops of higher peaks still before ascension to the fourth realm comes and takes the fun out of it.”


  “Sir Wang is fortunate to be so confident,” one of the others muttered.

  Ling Qi was silent as the conversation moved on, letting others move in to fill the silence.

  There were things Zhengui and she had in common. Weren’t there?