This made for the second time that she had crash-landed in the garden, Ling Qi mused. She wasn’t particularly fond of it. Her infiltration attempt had been a bit of a wash. It was a bit galling to have only gotten a bundle of trick arrows out for her efforts, and the scout left on the orb was a loss as well, albeit a minor one. But she had gotten a name for one of Sun Liling’s suppliers, uncovered some of their strikers’ routes, and at least, Cai’s faction would now be aware that Sun’s faction was stockpiling said trick arrows.

  Ling Qi wondered if she could figure out where Liling had the arrows commissioned from, but it was no great heist like her last one against Yan Renshu’s faction. Feeling rather dissatisfied as well as mildly sore after applying a salve to her burn, Ling Qi took the time to write down her observations and deliver them to Cai’s home before heading down the mountain to meet with Han Jian.

  She snuck her way down, of course. No reason to make herself a target on the trip. Spending time with Han Jian and the others continued to be awkward due to the tensions between them, but they pressed on regardless, continuing to comb the surroundings for useful sites and resources between training sessions.

  Over the course of the next few days, Ling Qi finally mastered the next technique of the Thousand Ring Fortress art, One Hundred Ring Armament, allowing her to layer powerful defensive qi over herself and her allies. It was costly, short in duration, and at her current level, could not be used reactively, but while the technique was active, she could outright ignore anything less than a technique used by a peer. Even then, most anything that her friends could throw at it, excluding a few of Xiulan’s attacks and a single one of Han Jian’s sword arts, were greatly reduced in effect.

  She also got a demonstration of Argent Storm from Han Jian. Argent Storm was a wind and thunder elemental art forming the basis of the Sect’s physical enhancement and movement arts. Inspired by the great seasonal squalls which beat down upon the Wall every year, its Rumbling Squall technique wrapped the body in a layer of obscuring wind and its Thunderous Retort technique produced loud thunderclaps to deflect enemy blows and enhance your own.

  In turn, Ling Qi demonstrated the less visually impressive Argent Mirror, using it to defend herself from the effects of Han Jian’s aura of command when he summoned his banner as he had done at the intra-council battle.

  They showed each other the beginning exercises of each art, enough to practice the first few levels. They would need to show each other later exercises to push beyond because the jade slips were protected from being copied.

  Luck was still against them when it came to finding useful sites though. There was profit to be had in the beast cores and herbs to be turned in, but nothing of true note otherwise.

  With a night of calming meditation under her belt, Ling Qi recovered from her effort in the fortress, and she met Suyin early in the morning to help the girl with her request. Cool mist still hung over the forest at the base of the mountain as the two of them walked, Li Suyin in the lead.

  “You have to wonder why there are so many nests like this out here,” Ling Qi said idly as she stepped over a jutting tree root. It had been confirmed, thankfully, that their destination was not the nest she had stolen silk from.

  “Once the Ahui clan conquered the Forest of Murk and their leader bound its guardian spirit, spiders became a popular spirit companion in the Emerald Seas,” Li Suyin explained . “Since they were an offshoot and pillar of the ducal Hui clan, it only makes sense for others to have copied them.”


  “What happened to them then?” Clearly, the Ahui clan weren’t keeping the spiders under control anymore.

  Li Suyin didn’t respond at first, peering into the mist ahead as she fidgeted with her sleeves. She was on edge about the coming binding it seemed. “They were destroyed during the invasion of the Cloud Tribes, along with many others. The Hui clan never properly recovered from the loss of so many loyal vassals, and combined with the Imperial condemnation of their failure to properly coordinate their armies……”


  Ling Qi nodded absently. Sometimes, she felt like she could ask just about anything and Suyin would have some kind of answer.

  “We’re here,” she said, interrupting her friend. “Or is that some other giant spider nest?” She had thought the looming shadow was a hill at first, but no, it was a massive pile of webbing that rose in a low, sloping cone until it met the crumbled remains of a squat stone tower. The tower was sheared off at the height of the taller trees and served as an anchor for the nest.

  Li Suyin swallowed nervously as she squinted into the mist to make out the details. “No. That is…… That is it,” she said.

  “Do you need some time?” Ling Qi asked. The man-sized tunnel halfway up the ‘hill’ probably looked even less inviting if you couldn’t see into the dark. Knobbly, wriggling sacks studded the inner walls and ceiling. She didn’t know if they were eggs or prey.

  “No. I can do this.” Suyin took a deep breath and drew herself up as she continued to walk forward. Ling Qi followed her, eyeing the nest warily as she expressed her flute. Now that they were close, the atmosphere grew more oppressive with every step, and the mist seemed to thicken, swirling around their ankles as they began to ascend toward the tunnel.

  “You do have a plan, right?” Ling Qi asked as the sounds of chitinous legs skittering in the distance filled her ears. It was galling to walk right into a situation like this. They were surrounded, above and below. She could just barely make out the moving shapes on the trees which poked out of the nest.

  “I do,” Li Suyin said, stopping at the tunnel entrance. She straightened her back and then bowed, hands pressed together in front of her. “Great Matriarch, this humble one brings offerings! This one brings delights wrought by the hands of man for your pleasure and amusement. Please grant an audience that this petitioner might offer them to your august personage.”


  Ling Qi glanced around warily, even as she made the proper bows as well. It was a little hard to tell with the way her eyes worked now, but this area was unnaturally dark. The sun should be high in the sky and shining down, but it was still misty and dark.

  As Li Suyin’s words echoed down the tunnel, Li Suyin’s expression began to grow nervous at the lack of response, but then a thick cable of thread, woven in along the ceiling of the tunnel, slowly lit up with a pale blue glow. It made no difference to Ling Qi for purposes of vision, but it was apparently the sign Li Suyin was hoping for. She shared a brief look with the other girl as they straightened up and headed in.

  Li Suyin motioned for her to keep silent as they did, so the trip down the winding, narrow tunnel was made without any further chatter. The glowing cable lead them through multiple splits in the tunnels, always heading toward the center of the nest at the base of the ruined tower. Eventually, they found their feet once more on solid stone, only lightly covered in debris. The ceiling rose sharply overhead, creating a large entryway, and ahead lay a crumbling arch, over which a curtain of diaphanous white silk hung.

  Two massive spiders with thick, almost rocky carapaces stood guard, one lurking above the arch and the other on the floor. Each of their legs looked as large and sharp as a sword, and sixteen black eyes regarded her and Suyin with cold intelligence. They were both third realm, and Ling Qi could feel a greater presence still beyond the curtain, comparable to Zeqing.

  She remained silent, allowing Li Suyin to continue taking the lead. “Honored guardians,” Suyin greeted, making a shallower bow than she had at the entrance. “May I pass?”


  “You alone, petitioner,” the spider on the floor hissed, its voice sounding like a raspy old man as its fangs twitched. Its blade-like limbs made a sound like metal being dragged over stone as it moved.

  Ling Qi glanced at her friend in alarm, but Li Suyin merely nodded in acceptance. “It is fine,” she reassured. “Please be patient, Ling Qi. I will be out soon.”


  “.…… Right. See you soon,” Ling Qi replied. She didn’t like it, but there was little she could do to help her friend in a confrontation with a fourth grade beast. She would have to trust that Li Suyin knew what she was doing.

  Nonetheless, watching Suyin’s back as she passed beyond the curtain was difficult. Her friend looked so small compared to the nearly horse-sized spiders. She glowered at the massive guardians, her fingers itching for a knife.

  Those thoughts did not make the wait after her friend passed through the curtain any less interminable. There was no way to properly track time in the nest, and the spiders showed no interest in conversing with her. She considered meditating, but she knew her nerves would make such an exercise fruitless.

  It felt like hours before the curtains shifted and a figure emerged from the milky layers of hanging silk. Li Suyin looked terrible as she staggered out, a sickly pallor on her face. Her steps were unsteady, and she nearly fell as she emerged, only catching herself on the doorway at the last moment. A small patch of blood stained the chest of her soft grey gown, although it didn’t seem to be spreading.

  Ling Qi crossed the entryway in the blink of an eye, ignoring the threatening hiss of the guards as she caught Li Suyin before she could trip on the uneven flagstones in front of the door

  “I…… did it,” Li Suyin muttered, her voice muffled by Ling Qi’s shoulder. Her voice was slurred, and her friend’s weak attempts to push away from her and stand on her own proved fruitless and clumsy.

  Ling Qi opened her mouth to reply, only to blink as she felt an odd pinch on her hand on Li Suyin’s back. Glancing over her friend’s shoulder, her eyebrows rose as she saw a ball of pink fuzz and chitin the size of a child’s fist. The relatively tiny spider was trying and failing to bite her hand, its fangs unable to penetrate her skin. It let out an affronted chitter and waved its furry little pedipalps threateningly at her anyway.

  “I’m guessing the one on your back is yours?” Ling Qi asked, continuing to ignore the agitation of the larger spider beside her.

  “Oh…… Oh, um……” Li Suyin blinked and let out an uncharacteristic giggle. “Yes, she is. All mine…… Zhenli, be good. This is my friend.”


  The little spider still regarded her suspiciously, but at least it stopped trying to chew her finger off. Ling Qi sighed, moving away briefly to watch her friend sway on her feet. Li Suyin looked and acted incredibly drunk, if she were being honest.

  “Well, ask her to climb up on your front. I’m going to carry you, alright?”


  “Tha…… Thank you, Ling Qi,” Li Suyin said, stumbling on her words. “Zhenli……” She made a face of almost comical concentration, and a moment later, the spider clambered onto her shoulder.

  Ling Qi sighed and scooped the smaller girl up into a bridal carry. It was a little awkward, but Li Suyin was short enough that she could manage it. The girl fell asleep with her head resting on Ling Qi’s shoulder before they had gone a dozen meters. This close, Ling Qi could smell the pungent scent of strong liquor on Suyin’s breath. Just what had the girl been doing in there?

  She supposed she would have to ask another time.

  Threads 119-Wind Thief 1

  It was nothing extravagant, this celebration. Biyu awoke to her nanny’s smile and the fond expressions of the household. For breakfast, the cook made jianbing, one of Biyu’s favorites, and they ate together as a family. The wheat flour crepes and their simple fillings were certainly not made of any special ingredients, but Ling Qi found herself enjoying the flavor more than she had far more extravagant foods.

  After, they had gone out to the garden where Zhengui had been waiting, and there, they had played. Shaping tiny expressions of her Mist, Ling Qi gave her little sister phantom animals to chase and play with while sitting and chatting with her mother and Zhengui, who had shrunk down to the size of a small dog.

  When Biyu had tired, Ling Qi and Ling Qingge had taken turns reading to her from a storybook until she fell asleep in Mother’s lap.

  The day passed like that in quiet enjoyment of each other’s company, culminating in the evening when they sat together in the hearth room while Ling Qingge played a new composition.

  Ling Qi sat at one one end of the long couch which filled the far side of the room, and at her feet on the carpeted floor, Zhengui and Biyu lounged. Part way through the day, her little sister had pleaded with him to let her ride on his shell, and Zhengui had eventually allowed it. Ling Qi had made sure it would be safe, and so throughout the day, the little girl would happily hop on and let Zhengui carry her through the halls.

  Biyu was leaning against his shell now, blinking drowsily while their mother played.

  Ling Qi couldn’t help but give a small smile as she leaned against the arm of the couch. Her mother really was good. Ling Qi had surpassed her through cultivation, but her mother was genuinely talented, and now, with the rust of disuse gone from her skill, that musical talent was showing again.

  The gentle sound of her mother’s flute drifted through the warm room. It was a song of comfort and warm summer days and a faint hope that was growing, slowly but growing all the same.

  When the song finished, Ling Qi offered polite applause. “That was lovely, Mother,” she said warmly.

  “Happy songs are nice!” Biyu added her own exuberant praise, clapping her own hands.

  Sixiang laughed silently. Ling Qi smiled wryly.

  “It is nothing so worthy of praise,” Ling Qingge said. “But I am glad that my daughters found it enjoyable.”


  “It was a nice song,” Gui said quietly. He had not been the most talkative today, but she thought that he had still enjoyed himself.

  “See, even Zhengui agrees that it does deserve praise,” Ling Qi said.

  “Precious is a good turtle,” Biyu agreed, patting his shell.

  Zhen looked conflicted at the praise.

  Ling Qingge smiled, and for once, there was no strain in it. She nodded her head in acknowledgement of Zhengui. Mother had grown comfortable around him, at least when he was in his smaller form.

  Biyu yawned then, only to blink and hastily raise her hands to cover her mouth. “Not tired,” the little girl said reflexively.

  “Of course not,” Ling Qingge said gently.

  “But just in case you get sleepy later, would you like a present from your Big Sister now?” Ling Qi asked. She had been trying to find a good time for it all day, and it was now or never at this point.

  Biyu’s expression brightened as she turned her head to look at Ling Qi. “Present?”


  “That’s right,” Ling Qi said, earning a curious look from her mother. In her hands, a carved wooden box appeared. “The present has two parts, and this is the first one. Go ahead and open it,” she said, lowering the container.

  Biyu turned herself around, looking curiously at the lacquered wooden box. She took the lid in both of her hands and lifted it up. Inside, padded by a soft cushion was a pair of pale blue silk shoes. They weren’t really proper talismans but Ling Qi had invested a little in them. They were stain resistant, durable, and just adjustable enough that they would last a couple years rather than a couple months on a growing girl.

  “Pretty shoes?” Biyu asked curiously, picking one up and turning it over in her hands. She peered inside. She didn’t seem too excited yet, but that was fine.

  “Like I said, the shoes are only the first part,” Ling Qi said lightly, leaning down to poke Biyu in the nose. The little girl snorted in laughter and swatted her hand away. “They’re dancing shoes. Do you want to be able to move like Big Sis?”


  Now, Biyu’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Yes, I wanna be a pretty fairy!”


  “Well, with these, we can get started.” Biyu was too young to learn anything complicated, but it would be good enough to just start working on a sense of rhythm and balance. “But you can’t use my lessons to get away from Mother or Nanny, alright?”


  Her mother gave her an unimpressed look but smiled nonetheless, giving Biyu a nod of approval.

  “I’ll be good,” Biyu chirped eagerly, setting the shoe back in the box.

  “I am sure you will,” Ling Qingge said with a touch of doubt. “In any case, I believe dinner should be prepared. Let us go to the garden.”


  Ling Qi smiled as she stood up, and scooped the box back up. She would put it in Biyu’s room later. She was looking forward to being able to teach her little sister too.

  That would come later though. She had already had quite a full day after all.

  And tonight, Ling Qi was going to begin learning to really move.

  ***

  “What brought this on?” Sixiang asked curiously.

  Ling Qi was silent as she stared down at her dress, lying spread out on the bed. The silk seemed to ripple under the light, the intricate patterns stitched along the hems shifting and dancing subtly.

  Standing here, wearing mundane silks, Ling Qi felt deeply uncomfortable. Contrary to what some rumors said, she did change out of her clothes at times. She still bathed, and she still set the dress aside when going to sleep, though that was rare. Sometimes, on particularly lazy days, she would even wear her sleeping shift into the meditation room.

  This would be the first time she had gone out without her Cai robe in a long time.

  “I don’t think I can cultivate Wind Thief well while wearing this,” Ling Qi said, still looking down at the dress. “At least…… not at first.”


  She felt pressure, as if Sixiang was resting their chin on her shoulder and leaning against her back. “I don’t think talismans interfere with cultivation, even ones like that.”


  “The dress won’t interfere, but I think my mindset will,” Ling Qi said thoughtfully. “It’s too safe.”


  “You don’t think you’ll be able to get the full lessons of the art if you’re feeling safe?”


  “No. That’s why I’m going off alone, too,” Ling Qi said. “If you could, I’d like you to stay dormant or cultivate internally while I’m doing this.”


  “Ling Qi, are you planning to do something crazy?” Sixiang asked warily.

  “I’m not planning to,” Ling Qi said lightly.

  They sighed. “Just stay safe, crazy girl. We still have dance lessons to do.”


  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Ling Qi laughed.

  Sixiang faded, and she was left alone.

  Except, that wasn’t really true, was it?

  Ling Qi reached down and traced her fingers along the folds of her gown. The silk was cool, and the energies infusing it thrummed at her touch. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”


  And then she was gone, a shadow passing through the door.

  She had to go before she could change her mind.

  ***

  She left things behind one by one as she traveled north into the depths of the forest which surrounded the Sect. One by one, meridians that thrummed with energy went still and quiescant. For the first time in over a year, she let the layered protection of her arts go silent.

  For the first time in many months, Ling Qi felt the faintest thrill of fear at the thought of traversing the woods. Her senses felt dull and muted, and her limbs felt too heavy and too light all at once. The faint sounds of the forest beasts and the rustling of leaves raised the hairs on her neck. She felt small and weak and vulnerable, and it made her stomach clench.

  But she wasn’t a mortal anymore.

  She leapt and sailed meters through the air to land on a branch which did not bend under her weight. She ran, and rough bark, stones, and thorns tore at her mundane clothing, but her flesh was inviolate. The darkness did not impede her eyes, and the cold chill of the night did not touch her. The mist that curled in the roots rose to her call and trailed after the ragged hem of her dress like a noblewoman’s train.

  She had changed, and the things she wore and the arts she practiced were only the outermost difference. When she arrived at the moon drenched tower where lunatic revelers sometimes danced, she did not strain as she lifted the boulder which had fallen across the entrance. Ascending the crumbling stairs, she did not need an art to hear the echoes of revelry gone.

  The tower was empty tonight. There was no gibbous moon hanging above, only a thin grinning crescent, half-hidden behind the clouds. But even if the dusty stones were quiet, the air was thick with moonlight. A single jump carried her twelve meters into the air to alight upon the splintered end of a long petrified rafter, a second carried her to the highest point of the crumbling tower, and her bare feet came to rest on broken stone.

  There, Ling Qi looked out over the darkened canopy of the forest and the twinkling night sky above. She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers. Gone were the little scars and calluses of a hard life. Her skin was as smooth as the most sheltered of courtesans. She was not a beauty, but there was none save her mother who would connect the ragged and desperate child of Tonghou to the immortal who stood here now.

  Ling Qi could not call herself a thief anymore. She was a musician, a sister, and a soldier. She was a burgeoning diplomat, taking the first shaky steps into intrigue. She had abandoned her apathy and chosen to believe that the idea of an improving world was not a childish fantasy.

  “I’ve left a lot of your lessons behind,” Ling Qi said to the empty sky. There were many things from those cruel years that she had put behind her, and although she retained some, others, she had rejected one by one. “Total freedom is a lie,” she said softly.

  The moon twinkled overhead, silent.

  “Living only for yourself is empty and childish, and only the mighty and the foolish can pretend that it offers anything but misery and destruction,” Ling Qi said thoughtfully. “Such a life is the life of a rabid beast.” Ling Qi held out her hand and watched the play of moonlight, filtered by the clouds on her skin. “But it isn’t wrong to do things for yourself. Some chains should be broken. Some rules are wrong. It isn’t wrong to want to fly as long as you remember your landing.”


  There was a charge in the air now, an attention that she could feel, beating down on her mind.

  “It isn’t wrong to steal the wind from its vault to let it out into the world.”


  Beneath her, the ground, the forest, and the Sect dropped away. She stood now on a promontory of crumbling stone over a ravine miles deep, its bottom hidden even to her eyes. It was a fall that even she could not survive. Below were the gods, cruel and greedy, with all the riches and wonders of the world in their vaults.

  And she was just one girl, so very small in the end. What madness could possess her, to think that she could defy the gods so?

  Ling Qi smiled to herself and stepped out into the open air.