Yan Renshu was still at large, his location unknown. But they had ruined him.

  The puppet they had destroyed was, in Fu Xiang and Cai Renxiang’s assessment, a masterwork, the sort of project that a cultivator of Yan Renshu’s status must have been working on for years. Along with everything else they had destroyed at his workshop and the losses he had already accrued, even years of building up in the Outer Sect could not have given him the resources to recover from these losses.

  She was still going to find him, but Ling Qi could rest a little easier for now. But she wasn’t done. Yan Renshu wasn’t her only enemy, and with her share of the loot taken from Yan Renshu’s base, she finally had the funds to outfit herself with some emergency tools.

  Finding a trustworthy outfitter was a little troublesome. Ling Qi was, in her opinion, justifiably concerned about sabotage. Su Ling had come to her aid there by giving her the name of a trader she thought trustworthy. So Ling Qi had asked her to pass on a message about what she was looking for. She didn’t want to do her shopping openly this time. Hopefully, her friend’s contact would come through on her request.

  The shop’s name didn’t fill her with confidence though. Fatty Hao’s Talisman Banquet sounded like the name of a rigged festival stall.

  “I’ve compiled only the best items for your eyes, Miss Ling. I assure you of that.” The smiling young man behind the counter had an easy grin on his pudgy face.

  She trusted Su Ling’s recommendation. That girl did not trust easily, and Ling Qi could recognize that the grudging compliments the rough girl had given as the equivalent to high praise from anyone else. All the same, it was a little hard to take someone who used the moniker “Fatty” seriously. It wasn’t inaccurate – the boy did carry a fair bit of extra weight, and his soft, round features gave him a non-threatening air – but it made her wonder at his self image if he could reach early silver and still look like that.

  “.…… If that is the case, why do I just have a list of prices for half the things I asked for? I don’t want to spend this much without seeing the product.”


  Fatty Hao, overall boss of several small shops in the market area, gave a serious nod. “As much as it pains me to say, a list is the best I can do. Those items are beyond the skills of an Outer Sect disciple,” he explained cheerfully, leaning on the counter in front of her. “Or at least what they’re willing to sell. Escape Talismans are no cheap thing to acquire!”


  Escape Talismans were her primary concern. Little breakable arrays that could rapidly transport a cultivator out of danger, they were popular with the children of nobility for obvious reasons. Ling Qi frowned at the list. The cheapest talisman on there was three hundred red stones. At only one use and with a range limit of half a kilometer, it seemed to cost way too much. “How am I supposed to know this is legitimate if I can’t even see them first?”


  He laughed. “Miss Ling, your mistrust wounds me. Do you really think I would cheat you when you are so high in the esteem of so many very frightening people? Why, a word from Lady Cai, and everything my family has built would be gone in an instant!” He seemed surprisingly sanguine about that.

  As much as those prices pained her, her own knowledge of formations told her that they probably weren’t undue. Transportation formations were hideously complex and required many spirit stones to power, even when placed in a fixed location. Anything meant to transport any significant number of people more than a few kilometers was beyond any but the wealthiest or most skilled people. Something that could do the same while being portable was obviously even more expensive, even if it was limited to one person

  “I suppose that’s fine, if it can be delivered quickly,” Ling Qi allowed after consideration.

  “No more than a few days from your order, Miss Ling,” the rotund boy replied. “Now, in regard to your other requests, I’ve brought some examples of the work a few of my partners have done. Warding against clairvoyance techniques is an unfortunately common request……”


  ***

  With her shopping squared away, Ling Qi was left with problems that could not be shot, exploded, bought or punched. The matter of her tutoring with the spirit Zeqing weighed on her. Ling Qi had, in the wake of their last conversation, researched the Sect’s relations with the various powerful spirits that resided on or near the Outer Sect mountain. In exchange for being allowed to live freely in Sect territory, spirits were expected to follow a number of rules. The big ones seemed to be that they were not allowed to do harm to mortals or knowingly allow their get to do so. They were also not allowed to interfere in Sect activities nor to go out of their way to harm disciples out of malice.

  Ling Qi suspected that helping her against Sun Liling edged up against the second rule. After all, it had been a ‘duel’. The last rule stuck out to her as well. The malice limitation on the rule seemed like it could very easily be circumvented……

  Like, say, a sad, stupid girl saying that she wished a spirit of dark hunger and possessiveness was her mother. Ling Qi had shivered when she read up on the possible results of that. Being spirited away wasn’t just a story told to scare children. She had been

  lucky that Zeqing had restrained herself since Ling Qi had basically just shoved her head into the proverbial bear’s mouth.

  Some traitorous part of her wondered what it would have been like. Or perhaps she should have listened to the voices of the spirits on the wind when she was a child and saved herself a lot of pain.

  Ling Qi shoved those thoughts into the deepest hole she could imagine as she climbed the mountain. Ling Qi had left the Ma sisters behind in favor of making the climb in stealth. She wouldn’t be so foolish as to move about openly while alone again. Sun Liling’s remaining forces had begun to strike out with a vengeance in the last couple days.

  Using her arts and her gown, she wove a trail that would be impossible for anyone ground-bound to follow and worked her way up the mountain. It doubled the travel time, but as she arrived at the pool unmolested, she supposed that it was worth it.

  She could already hear Zeqing playing as she approached the ravine, a soft, mournful tune that nonetheless cut through the biting, icy winds of the upper peak as if the spirit was playing right next to her. The song stopped as she arrived to find the spirit patiently waiting for her, hovering above the surface of the pool.

  Ling Qi bowed low, hands together in front of her. “Lady Zeqing, please allow me to apologize again for abusing your hospitality.”


  Zeqings looked down on her silently with blank white eyes, but after a moment, she made a dismissive gesture with her billowing empty sleeve. “I accept your apology in the sincere spirit it was given,” she said simply. “Speak no more of it, and let the matter rest.”


  Ling Qi relaxed. It seemed that Zeqing was fully willing to dismiss any insult she may have offered. She was glad that things could go back to normal between them. Straightening up, she gave the spirit a lopsided grin. “Will do. Would you mind if I tried some new songs today? I received some compositions that I would like to practice.”


  “That seems reasonable,” Zeqing agreed, floating down from above the pool toward the stone ‘bench’ they used. “I admit, in recent decades, I have perhaps allowed my pursuit of the arts to stagnate. Hanyi has simply taken so much of my time.”


  “Children do that,” Ling Qi said. “How old is Hanyi anyway?” She took a seat and expressed the pages of her mother’s notes.

  “I do not track the individual years as closely as a human would,” Zeqing replied thoughtfully. “Some twenty or thirty winters, I think?”


  So the little snowball was probably a decade her senior. That was strange to think about. She couldn’t imagine how one could remain a child for so long. Then again, cold and ice qi tended to represent stasis in many qi theory interpretations. She wondered if Hanyi would still be the same brat in another hundred years. “So, what do you think of these?”


  Zeqing peered over her shoulder, her chill aura cutting through Ling Qi’s gown like a knife. “Hardly masterful work,” she mused, reaching down to trace the lines with a clear icy finger. She breathed in, and Ling Qi shuddered as she felt the hungry void at the snow spirit’s core briefly awaken. “The emotion put into the work grants it a certain base potency. Longing, despair, betrayal, and weariness…… A lovely bouquet. The garnish of hope atop it all makes the combination all the more poignant.”


  Ling Qi’s fingers tightened briefly on the pages, her lips setting into a thin line. “You make it sound like it’s a fine wine,” she joked weakly. “Shouldn’t we be talking about the meter and rhythm?”


  “I forget. Even with the insight I gave you, you still require certain crutches,” Zeqing commented, leaning away and granting Ling Qi a reprieve from her chill. “You still require a few more refinements of spirit yet to truly grant your own melodies life.”


  Ling Qi blinked, looking over at Zeqing. “Do you mean that I could make my own art? Like the Forgotten Vale Melody?”


  “In time,” Zeqing replied simply. “For now, let us play. I believe we may be able to refine your work.”


  “It’s not mine,” Ling Qi reminded the spirit. “.…… But I suppose I can make it so.” he spread the pages on the stone between them, eyeing the notes inscribed on the page, as she expressed her flute.

  Her mother’s music was a sad one, and as she played, she found herself feeling something like what she suspected Zeqing had, of emotion transcending the crude approximations that mortal composition could lay down. It brought back memories of lying awake in bed at night, hearing the sound of notes floating through the thin walls on those rare nights when Mother had gone to bed alone.

  How long had her Mother worked on this?

  Threads 137 Preparations 2

  Ling Qi had not been idle on other tasks while working on the garden. Each morning, she would either attend sparring with Wang Chao and his group or perform some private cultivation, further refining her new combat arts.

  Starless Night’s Reflection continued to come easy to her, and she soon ironed out inefficiencies in the techniques, and prepared to begin working toward the art’s capstone technique. She still had some ways to go, but she was confident that she would soon have the art mastered.

  Beast King’s Savage Dirge, on the other hand, was a more daunting art. There was much more to it, more techniques, more little twists to master. She refined its first two techniques further and began to work on its next technique, the Wolf God’s Cunning. There was no spectacular growth, just a simple polishing and deepened understanding of the art’s fundamentals.

  In the evenings, she checked in with Hanyi. It was hard to talk to her because Hanyi didn’t want to talk. She was being willful again, refusing to engage with Ling Qi when Ling Qi had tried to broach the subject of Hanyi’s battle performance. Instead, Hanyi focusing an almost manic energy on preparing for her performance. Sixiang thought the winter spirit needed space to work out frustrations, so Ling Qi had backed off. The last thing Hanyi needed was Ling Qi’s smothering. So she had elected to finish some other tasks.

  Ling Qi shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the archive. Across from her sat Bian Ya and Ruan Shen, who were being incredibly inappropriate.

  Ling Qi averted her eyes as the older girl sighed in content, letting her head rest on Ruan Shen’s shoulder, mussing her carefully braided hair. Their hands were intertwined atop the arm of the archive chair.

  Ling Qi coughed awkwardly into her hand. “Congratulations on your betrothal.”


  Ruan Shen smiled at her, a teasing twinkle in his eye. “It just seemed like the time to stop dragging my feet.”


  “Honestly, it took you long enough,” Bian Ya said primly. “I had cleared this courtship with my parents ages ago.”


  “Sorry, sorry.” Ruan Shen held up his hands. “I’ll be more diligent from now on.”


  “I will hold you to that,” Bian Ya said, not bothering to lift her head or open her eyes.

  Was she really fine being like this in public?

  Sixiang complained.

  Ling Qi’s eyebrows twitched. How was it that the gutter-girl had a stronger sense of propriety than the nobles?

  “So, what was it you wished to ask, Junior Sister?” Bian Ya asked.

  “I want to modify an art, and it’s my first modification. Have you heard of the Harmony of the Dancing Wind art?”


  “Mm. That is a funny little art,” Bian Ya mused, cracking an eye open. “A bit awkward in execution. It’s a good choice for your first modification.”


  “I thought so too,” Ling Qi said, fixing her gaze a few centimeters above their heads. “Would you be willing to provide some advice?”


  “Well, you did help keep this wonderful pillow intact,” Bian Ya said lightly. “What is it you wish to change?”


  “I want to remove the active element,” Ling Qi said, after considering for a moment. “The effects I find most useful are the extension of my perceptions. I want to make that two-way. The rest of the art is something I’m willing to discard; I have better arts for those purposes.”


  Harmony of the Dancing Wind had been a useful stopgap when she had lacked social arts entirely, but now, between Playful Muse’s Rapport and Moonless Saboteur’s Smile, she had better options.

  Bian Ya raised her head from Ruan Shen’s shoulder. “I understand why you wished to speak with me on this matter.”


  “Senior Sister is the best expert I know,” Ling Qi said humbly.

  Bian Ya snorted at the flattery. “Perhaps in a year or two when you’ve expanded your circle of acquaintances, that might even be flattering.”


  “Give her a break. Junior Sister Ling has been trying pretty hard of late,” Ruan Shen teased.

  Ling Qi just crossed her arms and huffed at them. At least they had stopped…… cuddling.

  “It’s not too difficult a task,” Bian Ya admitted. “I would normally suggest removing the musical element to achieve what you’re looking for, but your focus makes that a poor choice.”


  “You still practicing that art you were looking at before?” Ruan Shen asked, leaning back in his chair.

  Ling Qi nodded. “Yes, it’s proved pretty useful.”


  “You can probably use Winter’s Hearth Resounding as a model then to convert the Harmony of the Dancing Wind into a secondary background effect,” Ruan Shen suggested.

  Bian Ya shot him an unamused look. “I believe I was the one being asked for advice?”


  “Sorry,” Ruan Shen apologized with a playful smirk.

  “In any case, I would suggest leaning into your command of the wind,” Bian Ya said. “It is an element of transmission, the medium through which light and sound alike must travel. For this art, I would suggest focusing on sound. Attempting to add visual elements would simply snarl the qi flows.”


  Ling Qi nodded slowly. “I see. I would probably need to shift the art’s heart meridians to head meridians.”


  “Not necessarily,” Bian Ya disagreed. Ling Qi felt the wind in the room shift, and then, fluttering lightness and energy. When she heard Bian Ya’s voice again, it whispered directly in her ear without the girl’s lips moving.

  “Of course, that’ll cost you in other areas,” Ruan Shen said.

  “The Harmony of the Dancing Wind is unsuited to long range communication.” Bian Ya gave Ruan Shen a quelling look. “I do not believe it can be adjusted past the battlefield coordination level. As communications are not your specialty, for your purposes, that level should be enough.”


  Fair enough. If she went all in on the communications aspect, Ling Qi probably could squeeze more range out of the technique, but she wasn’t sure how useful that would be given her usual battlefield role. “Alright, thank you for your advice, Senior Sister. Do you think you could assist when I go to make the adjustments?”


  “I can certainly observe,” Bian Ya agreed. “And I can warn you if it seems that you are in danger of breaking the art.”


  “That is all I ask,” Ling Qi replied. She knew the process was too personalized for anything more.

  ***

  The alteration of the Harmony of the Dancing Wind art took place over several days, spread out in six hour sessions during which Ling Qi had Bian Ya’s assistance.

  Altering an art was a meticulous task. It was not something she had thought of while cultivating, but an art was an extremely delicate and complex framework of qi, and each and every twist and slight variation in the flows could have cascading effects on the rest. This was a problem considering that modification was done while the art was equipped, and something going wrong could mean blowing out some of her meridians. However, Ling Qi had her advantages.

  “You need to lower the frequency of the emanation in the fourth ear channel,” Bian Ya said clinically. She touched a finger to the pale green vein of pulsing light. “Here, I think. Just a small adjustment of two pulses per cycle.”


  Ling Qi grunted an agreement, keeping a tight hold on her internal energies. She sat upon a meditation mat, and Bian Ya stood before her, observing the glowing tangle of lights that represented the structure of Ling Qi’s channels. Sixiang had been very helpful in generating the model.

  Letting out a breath through her nose, Ling Qi made the adjustment to the qi structure in her newest head meridian. She immediately felt the mounting pressure in her right temple release as the flows smoothed and ceased struggling to go wild.

  “I think that’s the last one,” Sixiang chirped cheerfully. On her shoulder, the image of the muse in miniature kicked their bare feet cheerfully. “I’m not feeling any more irregularities.”


  Bian Ya circled the floating meridian model. “No outstanding issues, but you require further efficiency. The flows are rough, and you are wasting qi.”


  Ling Qi nodded, rolling her shoulders. “That’s just normal art cultivation though.”


  “Exactly so,” Bian Ya said with a smile. “You have done good work, Junior Sister.”


  Ling Qi was just glad to have completed the project. While it hadn’t taken long, it had been very uncomfortable. Her head still ached from what she had put it through.

  “It’ll get easier, I think. Your head hurts cause there’s still so much mortal-y stuff in there interfering with things,” Sixiang said brightly. “Course, later you’ll have to be careful not to alter yourself too much in the process when the mortal bits aren’t holding things in place.”


  “Not how I would describe matters, but not wrong,” Bian Ya mused as the model faded away. “But, Junior Sister, I am curious about one thing.”


  “What is that, Senior Sister?” Ling Qi stood, rubbing her temple. They were in her living room, and the hearth had burned down. She should probably start it back up. It would be polite to offer Bian Ya some tea or something for her help.

  “The South Wind Blows Unerring technique, why did you choose it?” Bian Ya asked. “I am aware of the task you have been assigned by the Duchess, but surely, you can expect to be provided with talismans which will deal with the issue of translation.”


  Ling Qi paused. It had occurred to her. She had worn Liao Zhu’s translation ring when spying on the shishigui underground after all. “I don’t think I would be satisfied, relying on a tool,” she explained. “The Duchess gave me the task. If a talisman is doing the work, then anyone could do it.”


  “I suppose I can see your logic,” Bian Ya said dubiously. She graciously followed Ling Qi out to the dining room as they spoke. “But I cannot help but find it suspect.”


  “Mm, yeah, that doesn’t feel quite right,” the miniature Sixiang murmured, resting their chin on a fist.

  “It’s hard to articulate. But this task is going to be all about understanding strange people. I don’t think I’ll succeed if I’m relying entirely on a talisman.”


  It felt lazy like she wasn’t really taking things seriously. That felt disrespectful given…… everything.

  “I think I understand.” Bian Ya gave her a thoughtful look. “Let me wish you luck on your journey.”


  “Thank you very much, Senior Sister,” Ling Qi said, offering a short bow. “Would you care for some refreshments before you go?”


  There was just one more thing she had to see to before she could focus on Hanyi’s recital.

  Ling Qi thought.

  the muse sent back silently, their voice subdued.

  ***

  The melody’s theme was regret.

  Ringing softly over the mist-shrouded hills, the nameless melody Ling Qi had composed echoed between the stone plinths half-hidden in the morning fog. The air quavered with the sound, and the Mist twisted into the whispers of human shapes. The phantoms of fog fought, danced, gestured, and spoke wordless whispers.

  And in time, each one faded.

  Here, in the field of gravestones representing the Sect’s dead, Ling Qi played her song as a stick of rich incense burned down on the small altar before her.

  There were no bodies here, but the dead had to be respected all the same. Ling Qi had spent much time earlier, wandering the older stones which filled the hills, and the mist never lifted, even when she was long gone.

  Ling Qi wore pure white today, the color bled from her gown. An unobservant watcher might think her a ghost.

  It was important, Ling Qi thought, as she reached the refrain, fingers dancing across the length of her flute. It was important to be here, even if she wasn’t really grieving.

  “You’re being way too unreasonable with yourself,” Sixiang sighed, even as the wind stirred around her, the faint sound of a bow being drawn across strings serving as an accompaniment.

  Ling Qi disagreed. Grief was a much stronger emotion. Claiming what she felt as grief was disrespectful. She was sad, certainly, but that wasn’t the same. Regret was the right word.

  “You can be obnoxiously stubborn,” Sixiang grumbled.

  Ling Qi played, and the incense burned down. The faint flickering light gleamed in the grooves that carved out a familiar name.

  She had contemplated death before. When she had dealt it out to her enemies and risked it herself, she had found her peace. It wasn’t the first time someone she had known had died. Zeqing had been her teacher, after all, much closer than a mere acquaintance. However, Zeqing’s death had been by her own hand, her own choice. It was different.

  Then again, perhaps that was unfair to Shen Hu. By all accounts, he had known what choice he was making, being the last to retreat.

  The last melancholic notes of the melody echoed out, and Ling Qi let her eyes drift open. Around her, the phantoms in the mist shaped by her song faded away, sinking back to earth. Yes, even if she didn’t grieve herself, she understood that others did. Each of these stones marked a memory, a discordant absence in a well-played meter.

  She had no responsibilities or obligations to any of them, not even Shen Hu, but a dissatisfied feeling churned in her stomach. Ling Qi could not help but wonder if something like this was what drove Cai Renxiang’s ideals.

  Only one of these deaths had affected her, and even then, not heavily. However, when she looked upon these newly planted stones…… In the future, more people were going to die. This field was going to grow. But it would be good if it grew less. If fewer people had to grieve here. If less connections were snapped by loss.

  So she was going to have to work hard and do her utmost to make sure that her mission succeeded.

  “You’ve got this. You’re the girl who got three Moon Aspects to share. What’s convincing some humans to play nice?” Sixiang asked.

  “Maybe,” Ling Qi whispered.

  She cast one last look at the gravestone. The incense had burned down, only an offering, a little cup of pale cider that she knew Shen Hu had enjoyed, remained. Ling Qi crouched and poured the libation out.

  She wouldn’t be back. By the time she returned, Shen Hu’s remains, and his shrine, would be with his family. All that would remain would be a name carved on the memorial stone.

  “Heeeey! Big Sis! C’mon, it’s time! You said you would listen to me practice!” Hanyi’s voice rang out of the mist.

  Ling Qi smiled wryly. She should get going before Hanyi did something disrespectful.