Ling Qi hissed in pain as a deep black and purple bruise swiftly began to form on her arm. She stared down, dumbfounded at the offending limb. Had she just…… failed to open a meridian? That had never happened before. She had been carefully breaking up a knot of impurities, chipping away at it little by little, and then……

  “Are you well?” Bai Meizhen asked her. The other girl was seated on the stone ‘bench’ where Zeqing taught her lessons. She was looking at Ling Qi with concern.

  “Yes. I slipped when opening my meridian is all,” Ling Qi said with a wince. She sat beside the fathomless black pool, soaking in the dark qi that emanated from it. “I was just surprised.”


  “It happens. Meridians grow more difficult to open as their number grows. Give the channel time to heal before attempting to open it again. Perhaps we should break here,” Meizhen said, letting the dark water coiled about her legs drain down onto the rocky ground, where it began to swiftly freeze.

  “I suppose. I did get most of my goals done for today,” Ling Qi grumbled. She had trained her Argent Current some more to the Third Flow, and together with Argent Storm, she was increasingly certain that there was something more to the Argent Arts, some way that they fit together into something greater. At the same time, she was uncertain if the Argent Arts, with its focus on physical melee, really meshed with her style. The latest technique in Argent Current, Inescapable Flow, chained a targeted enemy to her with bonds of qi. It worked well with Argent Storm’s defensive techniques but not very well with either of her mainstays, her musical arts and her archery.

  Still, she couldn’t actually use the improved Argent Current without another opened meridian. Ling Qi flicked her wrist, pulling a medicinal pill from her ring and popped it into her mouth. Soon, the swelling began to go down.

  “Indeed,” Meizhen said demurely, just as unbothered by the cold as she was.

  Ling Qi scooted away from the pool to rest her back against the wall of the ravine, only briefly glancing at Meizhen. She was glad that things were finally becoming normal again with the other girl. They meditated together now, and when they felt ready, they would spar and clash for a time before returning to meditation to further master the flows of their techniques. Occasionally, that routine was broken up by a break for less spiritually strenuous activities. Ling Qi would take that time to work through Suyin’s notes on formation constructs while Meizhen slowly continued to pick out embroidery patterns on a length of silk.

  They even ate together on occasion when both of them felt like it. Ling Qi tried not to think of that though. While she was glad for what she was sure was a display of trust and comfort, it never got less disturbing to see her friend dislocate her jaw and swallow a fist-sized third grade core like a piece of candy or even an entire raw fish. The cracking, grinding sound the cores made as the pale girl’s throat crushed them to powder made her hair stand on end.

  On the other hand, constantly sparring with Meizhen did have its downsides. She had yet to land a meaningful blow on the girl. It filled her with frustration, and as Ling Qi leaned back against the cold stone, nursing her sore arm, she found herself giving that feeling voice.

  “Meizhen, am I really making any progress at all?” Ling Qi asked, looking up at the sky. It was a clear night, and she could see the bright half moon and stars.

  Meizhen cocked her head to the side as she looked up from the kerchief she had been working on. The intense cold of the upper mountain had brought a faint flush to the girl’s pale cheeks. “What an odd question,” she remarked, her eyebrows drawing together in consternation. “Were you not a mortal less than a year ago?”


  “Alright, poor phrasing,” Ling Qi admitted.

  “You should choose your words more carefully,” Meizhen admonished lightly, returning her gaze to her work. “I have heard that you were lapsing back into casual, common speech with Cai Renxiang.”


  “Was she complaining to you?” Ling Qi asked with a frown. “I forgot myself a little, but……”


  “She was not ‘complaining’,” Meizhen corrected. “That you are growing more comfortable is good, but there are limits,” she continued, glancing up to meet Ling Qi’s eyes. “If you are to involve yourself in the games of nobility, you MUST temper your speech more consistently.”


  Ling Qi let out a frustrated huff but didn’t object to Meizhen’s point. She forgot to use proper speech all too easily still. “I understand. What I meant is……” Ling Qi trailed off, falling silent as the memory of her desperate run from Sun Liling surfaced. “It’s just – I thought I was catching up, but…… Sun Liling, if I hadn’t run from her, would have destroyed me. I had no chance.” Ling Qi found her voice growing quieter and quieter with each word as she folded in on herself, staring at her own lap.

  Bai Meizhen stilled. It was a subtle thing, which the Ling Qi of a few months ago would not have noticed at all, but to her eyes now, it was as obvious as the cold current of highly pressurized toxic qi that flowed through her friend’s channels. For a time, Meizhen did not respond.

  “Only you, Qi, would find yourself at fault for such a thing,” she finally huffed, giving Ling Qi a reproachful look. “A cultivator of less than a year, and you choose to feel inadequate for failing to match that girl in direct combat.”


  “It’s stupid, I know,” Ling Qi admitted, clasping her hands in her lap. “I thought I had been keeping up with you fairly well so…… Well, I didn’t know how much you were holding back.”


  There was a faint rustle of cloth, and Ling Qi found that Meizhen had turned to fully face her, a faint frown on her face. “The purpose of a spar is not to crush your opponent. Nor are my best techniques something which I would willingly use upon a…… friend,” Meizhen said, the last word coming out somewhat awkwardly. “Qi, you have become strong. Do not doubt that. When you break through, know that you will stand near to me, though our skill sets might differ.”


  Ling Qi let out a soft huff of a laugh. “Which is your way of saying that you can manhandle me whenever you want,” she teased, forcing her worry down. “Your defense is ridiculous.”


  The flush on her friend’s cheeks briefly deepened, and she glanced away. “.…… A Bai should remain untouched and dignified at all times,” Meizhen awkwardly mumbled. “Your resistance to my spiritual techniques is impressive. Do not denigrate yourself so.”


  Ling Qi simply nodded, shooting her friend a thankful look as she pulled out her notes. She would have to give the meridian a rest, but that was no excuse to stop working.

  ***

  That went for her afternoons too. Her tutoring with Zhong Peng had progressed at a good pace, and today was the last day. Over the course of the lessons Ling Qi had honed the arts she had chosen to train. Fleeting Zephyr came naturally to her, and she was thankful for it, speeding her steps and protecting her from projectiles. Her accuracy and fire rate with the Falling Stars art under stress had grown greatly as well.

  Zhong Peng had taken her lack of a truly long range perception art as an indication that she did not wish to follow the more standard archer path. Instead, he spent his time drilling her on maintaining her aim while under attack and teaching her little tricks that she could use to more easily handle a bow in melee. Unlike a mortal’s weapon, a cultivator’s bow would not necessarily be ruined by using it to parry, and an arrow could be used like a somewhat awkward punch dagger in a pinch.

  Of course, Ling Qi couldn’t simply use her slender bow as a bludgeon the way Zhong Peng could use his, so his lessons had required some adjustment. Ling Qi felt fairly satisfied with her progress.

  That didn’t mean picking the leaves and twigs out of her hair at the beginning of the session was any less of an irritation. Xiulan would blanch if she could see her now, smeared with dirt, her gown marked with slowly repairing rips and cuts. Worse of all, Ling Qi felt gross and sweaty. It seemed she had not moved beyond such mortal concerns yet. Ling Qi wondered when she had gotten used to feeling clean, a luxury – and danger – on the streets.

  “You’ve done well.” Her instructor’s voice caused her to look up from undoing her braid. “You adapt quickly and have a survivor’s instinct.” Zhong Peng leaned against a thick tree at the edge of the clearing, his thick arms crossed. It was the young man’s preferred ‘at rest’ pose.

  “Thank you, Senior Brother Zhong,” Ling Qi replied, bowing as best she could from her seated position. “Is there anything you would advise going forward?”


  He let out a rumbling hum, considering her. “Not as such. You have a strong foundation, but I have little idea what you are trying to build,” he admitted bluntly. “You are not like me. The bow is not your focus.”


  Ling Qi reluctantly nodded. She enjoyed shooting, much like she enjoyed music. But she wasn’t sure yet whether she wanted to build her cultivation around either.

  “That is fine,” the older boy continued. “My father was a hunter, and my mother an army scout. Archery is in my blood. I have known what I wanted for many years. Not all are so lucky.”


  “So I have to figure it out myself then?” Ling Qi asked ruefully, letting her hands fall into her lap. Not what she had hoped for.

  “As we all must,” Zhong Peng said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Choose what you want to do. Tailor your skills to that. As things are, once you have mastered Falling Stars, I would suggest looking into mid and close range variants utilizing water or pure wind elements if you wish to continue the path of the bow. One who tries to do all things will only find themselves drowning in mediocrity.”


  “The Sect arts cover all the elements though, don’t they?” Ling Qi asked defensively. “The Sect Head can’t be wrong, right?” The Argent arts had been personally developed by him after all.

  Zhong Peng inclined his head slightly. “That is a path all its own,” he explained. “An Inner disciple who wishes to follow in Master Yuan’s footsteps would do well not to be distracted by other arts.” The young man frowned, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin as he considered his words. “What you are doing is not wrong. Yet you lack focus. Secondary skills are an asset, but you need to choose a clear primary skill.”


  Ling Qi grudgingly nodded. If she

  to choose…… her music would be her primary skill. Forgotten Vale Melody was one of her highest quality arts and a very versatile control and support art. Sable Crescent Step, another gift from the moon, worked well with Forgotten Vale Melody, but its quality and upgrades meant she could use it with other styles as well. The problem was that her other arts didn’t necessarily support a music-focused build at the moment, not the way Xiulan’s skills all built on empowering her flames or Meizhen’s all supported her utterly impregnable defense. The whole reason she had sought Falling Stars art was because her current music repertoire lacked a way to truly damage others in a reasonable time frame.

  She parted ways with her tutor amicably. Perhaps next year, once she had sorted her style out, she could show off a coherent art suite to him.

  Threads 130-Convergence 8

  A hurricane of wind ripped through the broken wall of the caldera, and it was everything Linq Qi could do to not be blown away. She stared out through the gap at the rising cloud of smoke and debris, a tall pillar with an expanding cap which rose from a blackened crater where a valley had once been. Ling Qi dragged her eyes upward and beheld the clouds rising in a kilometers-wide funnel above the caldera, whirling walls of wind that screamed at speeds fit to tear trees and whole hills from the earth. The circle of visible sky was awash with light, countless burning stars blooming and dying.

  The elder stood motionless. No, that wasn’t right, she realized as a mountain peak caved in, crushed in the shape of a foot, and a second falling sun detonated kilometers away and still ripped at her hair and gown. He appeared to be still because she could not see him moving. She saw a thousand, two thousand, detonations of light in the sky, and the air wailed with unending thunder. She could feel the wind around her distorting, the world’s natural flows bending and buckling under their weight. She could feel the storm deforming, heaven, water, and wind qi carving itself into the world in unalterable grooves.

  The spirits of the world were going mad with panic, and she could feel even the slow spirits of the mountains themselves awakening, hardening their stony hides in the face of ruin.

  She ripped her eyes away from the battle that she could not hope to comprehend, let alone affect. The ring of lesser nomads overhead was nearly gone, dead or scattered, with only a handful left, but even they were fleeing the clash of the titans. Ling Qi crossed the battlefield in an eyeblink, wrestling the chaotic winds all the way.

  As she appeared at Zhengui’s side, two sets of eyes blinked dazedly at her. “I…… did good, Big Sister?” he asked in his twinned voice.

  “You did,” Ling Qi said. “So take a break now, alright?”


  “Yeah,” he muttered, eyelids drooping as he dematerialized.

  Around her, Ling Qi noted the other disciples climbing out of grasping roots that prevented the wind from hurling them about like matchsticks. Most were struggling to their feet, but Ling Qi could sense the impurity in their auras, eating away at them. She could even feel it on herself, clinging to her skin like oil. Ling Qi grimaced. If she had saved them just to have them die now……

  A bell rang, clear and high. Harsh light washed over the crater, but its touch was kind. Not soft, never that, but kind all the same. Ling Qi let out a breath as she felt the oily weight of impurity vanish from her channels, and inside her dantian, her spirits’ presences pulsed with relief.

  Sixiang mumbled.

  Hanyi whispered.

  Ling Qi hushed her, willing her to rest. Renxiang landed at her side, a ribbon of liquid light swimming through the air and casting its purifying light despite the frayed edges and spots of black that marked it.

  “That was good work,” the heiress said quietly, and Ling Qi knew only she could hear. “Liming gave me some difficulty in those last moments.” Renxiang’s voice was rough. There was a raggedness to it, sourced from the ugly burns that marked her throat.

  “I’m glad you ladies are well!” Ruan Shen called from the crater’s lip. A shock of his hair was still bright green, and flower petals still clung to his skin, masking steaming burns. “If you gather everyone up, I can play a little pick-me-up!”


  Right, they weren’t done, Ling Qi thought. Just because the immediate enemies had fled didn’t mean that they weren’t still on the battlefield. Even if she refused to look, the battle above roared in her mind.

  “I will provide vigil. Ling Qi, help get the others on their feet,” Cai Renxiang ordered. “Recovery formation on Disciple Ruan!”


  Ling Qi shook out the pressure invading her thoughts. “Right,” she grimaced.

  Swiftly, she scanned those climbing to their feet and blinked to the side of a young man as a broken ankle collapsed under his weight. She caught him halfway to the ground, and a swift leap carried him to Ruan Shen’s side. She vanished on a whisper of wind, repeating the action twice more.

  Even with the pressure above, Ling Qi could not help but notice a change in her peers’ attitudes. There was no hint of the jealousy and sullen dislike that had simmered beneath the polite surface. She wasn’t sure it would last, but for now, the battlefield had stripped it away.

  Ling Qi returned to Ruan Shen’s side with the last of the disciples in time to hear Ruan Shen’s soothing song and feel the soft spring melody wash over her. She felt aches ease and pain grow dull, although she could tell that the effect was temporary. Around her, others straightened up as broken bones slid back into place, and flower petals fell, clinging to and staunching wounds.

  “We’ll all need a visit to the medicine hall, but I can keep us on our feet,” Ruan Shen said, running his fingers nervously over his scorched scalp. “Now, what’s—”


  Ruan Shen shuddered, his smile transforming into a grimace. “What’s the plan?” he finished, his voice strained.

  “I have received our orders,” Cai Renxiang spoke from above. The line of her gaze was visible in light as she scanned the caldera for threats. “We are to retreat and secure the starstone until we rendezvous with our reinforcements. Communication is breaking down due to the intensifying storm. We must assume that the enemy is reinforcing as well.”


  Ling Qi glanced to the other side of the caldera where the stone still rested. The moisture-thick air around it glimmered with rainbow light. “I suppose I can move it,” Ling Qi said. She had enough qi to use her Grinding Glacial Melody technique quite a few times.

  “I will pierce the caldera wall,” Cai Renxiang said grimly, “and assist with the movement. Sir Ruan, bolster our efforts. The rest of you, form a perimeter and watch for foes.”


  The chorus of agreement was perfunctory. No one wanted to stay in the caldera. They moved toward the wall where the stone rested, and Cai Renxiang descended, drawing back her saber. Three swift slashes carved through the already dissolving rock.

  When the tip of Renxiang’s blade bloomed with light and unleashed a small ray of scouring light over the stone and the wall however, something strange happened. The stone, so inert up until now, wobbled violently. Cai Renxiang let out a choked off grunt of pain. Her free hand flew up to press against her temple.

  Behind the starstone, the wall that had been targeted still crumbled away under the blast.

  Everyone scattered as the stone rolled toward them, defensive techniques activating only for it to rock to a stop when it reached a small upward slope in the broken floor. They all eyed it warily.

  “Maybe I should handle the moving on my own,” Ling Qi said.

  “Agreed.” Cai Renxiang glared suspiciously at the starstone.

  “Seconded,” Ruan Shen said nervously, continuing to strum out a bolstering tune.

  A single icy stanza sent the stone rocking back, tumbling through the hole and down the mountainside. They chased after it, not having the time to give the matter more thought.

  Outside, Ling Qi finally caught sight of the battle between the fourth realms. Guan Zhi was being pushed back, but Ling Qi knew it wouldn’t matter. She could feel the incoming tide of sect reinforcements.

  As they dashed down the mountainside following the bouncing stone, she felt the attention of the leader of the Twelve Stars group turn toward them. The cyan wasn’t visible as a person any longer, only a screaming funnel of iridescent wind, but Ling Qi could imagine that she saw glowing eyes widen in fury.

  Then Guan Zhi let out a warcry that shook the mountainside, and blackened bronze hands seized the narrow end of the towering wind funnel. Even as arrows and lightning scoured her flesh, the funnel spun wildly through the air in two revolutions before slamming into the ground in a plume of dust that was swiftly ripped away by the roaring storm overhead.

  The starstone caught on the lip of a cliffside, and Ling Qi belted out another grinding stanza. The cliffside crumbled. The stone rolled on. They ran and flew after it.

  But they were far from safe. Ling Qi nearly stumbled as a wave of pressure from the battle behind and above them ripped through whatever Elder Yongrui had been doing to shield them. The coming of the other two Elder’s made pain spike in her temples and blood drip from her nose. They fled down the mountain, and what few barbarians remained scattered.

  For a single moment, something drowned out all sound, the sound of the rolling stone, their feet, and even the continuous thunder of the clash overhead. It wasn’t a sound; it was the antithesis of sound, and before it, sound rotted and crumbled.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Twelve Stars group leader, once more a man and an eagle, soaring in the sky. His mask was gone, revealing a wind-weathered face. In his hand was a warhorn hewn from starstone, gleaming wetly in the rain. The awful not-sound emanated from it, full of fear, a child’s cry for help.

  The rain hissed and steamed, the light of the sun turned red as blood by the flames devouring the heavens. Ling Qi tried not to gag as the stench of burning flesh assaulted her nose and tried not to stumble as the rain began to pound down with enough force to crack stone, every drop stinging on her skin. She didn’t dare to look up, even as the mountain groaned and grumbled and the ground beneath her feet began to give way.

  All around her, trees tipped crazily as weakened soil began to slip downward, a vast mudslide picking up momentum under her feet. She could barely hear Ruan Shen’s song or the voices of her allies over the cacophonous noise. Despite the unsure footing, Ling Qi darted downwards, keeping the rolling starstone moving even as the muck tried to bury it once more.

  They ran on, and behind them, the world came apart.

  The wind and pressure nearly crushed her. Trees and stones the size of houses whirled into the air, dragged into the sky. Stone and mud caught fire, even amidst the pounding rain. All fought to keep from being entangled in the battle of the mighty forces above save the starstone, which seemed to care not at all. Yet it responded to her melody all the same, even as the song was drowned out.

  A girl at Ling Qi’s side stumbled and fell, and it was only Ling Qi seizing her arm and dragging her up that kept her from being devoured by the mud. They were nearly at the bottom of the mountain, and Ling Qi could faintly sense the qi of imperial cultivators ahead. They only needed to cover a few more kilometers.

  Lightning fell from the sky, a river of electricity.

  Cai Renxiang’s light flared, and for just a moment, there was no rain. The lightning sparked and crawled over the smooth aegis of light that had bloomed.

  “Their shamans are going active,” Ruan Shen hissed. “We have to—”


  A strange static of incomprehension assaulted her mind, and Sixiang let out a pained whimper in her thoughts.

  Ling Qi fell to her knees under the wave of pressure that struck her back, and droplets of red spattered the mud as the air was driven from her lungs in a spray of blood-flecked breath. Her eyes burned with the shadow of the light that just bloomed across the sky. Her ears rang in the eerie silence that was the end of the continuous ringing of thunder from above. Around her, allies lay scattered and groaning, and only Cai Renxiang had not been bowled over.

  Before her lay the starstone, come to rest against piled trees and stones.

  Through its center was a jagged crack.