Stepping through a cloud was stranger than Hao expected; It was not fluffy as it looked, rather it was like walking through a superbly light ocean.

  The clouds were ethereal at first; each step down made them thicker until they fogged his vision, making the world in front of him mist beyond mist, shrouding nothing but more of the gray mass.

  Hao had to swipe the cloud out from in front of his face; not an easy task with his stiff and swollen joints, but when he didn’t, he felt like he was slowly drowning.

  It got thin again when he was near the bottom. Though it was far colder, icy almost, water droplets rapidly formed on his exposed skin and soaked down into his robes.

  After a few dozen steps, he reached clear air again. Soaked down to the bone in unfallen rain, he sat in the slowly reforming hole he made in the cloud, swiping a thin layer of water off himself.

  Hao knew what was coming; he decided to make himself as comfortable as possible before it arrived, his ribs shifting beneath his skin, stitches popping.

  He let out a single cough. With just that, it all seemed to unfold, bloodshot from his mouth and dripping from his nose. His face went as white as a crane’s wing. The mass of blood, congealed and crimson, that landed in front of his crossed legs looked like he had dropped something he had just grabbed from the butcher’s.

  Every sound he made bounced back at him from the curtain of vapor above his head. That sound ‘tch’ was still loud in his ears; just the click of his tongue, and it felt like Ciyue had reached inside his chest and shook around his organs, and played with his bones.

  “Shameless old beast.” Hao’s frustrations brought him nothing but a wave of dizziness and a second mouthful of blood.

  He thought he could fall over, even though he was sitting; each time he cleared his throat and nose, another sticky red glob crawled its way from his chest to his throat.

  Hao crossed his legs. Channeling World Energy to his chest, stomach, and open wounds, after a few minutes, the sharp pains and pinches became dull.

  “They still ache,” he muttered, sprawling out on the dirt path. Even in a place as Heavenly as that, there are toads ready to eat every fly they see…

  Hao waited for all signs of dizziness to go before he stood, turning on his side as the rain started again; a large raindrop hit his shoulder like a reminder that there was still a lot to do. One of them is a brand new property in exchange for an Elder’s favor.

  “How the hell am I going to repair those houses before next summer?”

  He sat up, smiling; despite the question being a hopeless one, at the bottom of this peak, on the other side of the Sect, he could save Meiqi.

  *************************

  Back atop Sky Flower Peak, inside the famed blue pagoda, Huoshan Guan took a handful of flowers from his Space ring and dropped them into the gentle fire that burned in his censor.

  “Are you really going to let him take a place like this?” Que asked, leaning against the table in the center of the giant Dias.

  Guan turned, looking at his Junior Brother; he had been here since Junior Hao had left the range of the peak, pondering over the books which he had ignored with purpose until today.

  The table creaked as Guan leaned against it. “Junior Brother Hao insisted. It seemed he had his reasons, and not a light one either. He can do as he pleases.”

  Que looked up, such a scholarly boy once; now he had harsh charcoal hair, tied in a bun, and his robe was pulled tight across his chest. He was handsome now; his jaw was still as slight as when he was small, but glasses wouldn’t fit on his face any longer.

  “What are you looking at me like that for?” Que asked, pointing at the property Junior Hao had chosen, moving swiftly on when he lowered his eyes back to the book. “You should have convinced him otherwise; this is not a place a person could live. Give him a secluded cave or something at least.”

  “Junior Brother,” Guan sighed, such a scholarly boy, now he was hot-headed and sly; that was all Master’s fault. “I don’t think he was looking for a place to cultivate. I think that was an excuse; he was here to deliver this message.”

  He pushed the piece of paper with a crudely painted seal of the Servants Hall. Signed by the Hall Leader Taoyi.

  Que read it in the time it took for it to curl back up. “The Servants Hall. Why would someone like Junior Brother Hao, who escaped that vile pit, do them a favor? Housing and a private path for transport.”

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  Que flicked the paper; it crumbled up into a small ball as he looked back up. “A request without giving a reason or location, just a bunch of things this soft-bellied Hall Leader wants. Is this a joke?”

  Guan knew what Que was trying to say. It was obviously suspicious. Taoyi was the name of the hall leader; no one on the Fifth Peak knew him well. Either way, there is an order to things; slips from the Hall Leader were not easily ignored or rejected unless it was an Elder themselves throwing the paper aside.

  Guan clicked his tongue, “The most I can do is pass it to Master… Now, what is it you really want? I know this stuff is not your concern.”

  “Junior Brother Hao,” Que said as soon as he could.

  Guan chuckled, “Yes. I thought you would like him more; you always like stories of the lowly one facing a sudden and great rise.”

  He could still remember Que with his face in anything with words; his little glass hardly fit to his ears, every book and scroll that held a story caught his fascination; he wouldn’t let go until he knew every detail. Que was born in the Mortal World, with no connection to the less mundane.

  Que hit the table, “Not that. His heart is unsteady; it was better when he first came up the mountain, but when he was waiting for me to take him back down, I watched him cultivate. I thought… it was fluctuating.” He stopped, his expression red and tight, the blank part of the table holding his eyes.

  Guan thought he saw a hint of disappointment; Que must have been expecting something more, or different, not a ragged boy covered in wounds.

  “Junior Brother, I checked his bone age when he first entered. I hope you aren’t pushing fantasies and legends onto a fifteen-year-old boy.”

  Guan dropped the scrolls he was reading. “I don’t know what you see in him that isn’t extraordinary. The energy in his body is thick and pure.” He looked down at his slouching Junior Disciple, the man he had long considered his little brother, blood or no blood.

  “Yin and Yang rest together in his physique. Despite rumors of his aptitude, he has made a rapid rise, all while hiding in the background. Plus, he has potential for physical cultivation.”

  Guan started just trying to cheer up Que, but reminding himself of Hao’s physique rekindled his curiosity.

  Que snapped his head up. “Do you think Junior Brother Hao has a special constitution? That doesn’t make sense; such people have famously strong aptitudes.”

  If he was born with a constitution like that, then yes, his aptitude would be good, but if he wasn’t? Guan lowered his head back to the paper scrolls and bamboo slips now that his Junior Brother was smiling. He didn’t give up for long; noticing the silence of Que when he looked back up, Que had a face of cold realization.

  “Senior Brother… Do you remember the stories the Second Elder used to tell disciples, all the ones about the Bone-Shaking Bell?” Que asked, diving underneath the table.

  When he came back up, he had a thin, insignificant-looking book in his hand. He put it on the table; all the other books were thrown aside, including the open ones that had important information, techniques, and manuals.

  “You should call her Second Aunt like Master told us to,” Guan said, watching Que fly through the book until he landed on a page with a bell with the world flowing along its side, blue ink painted on afterwards as if it was cracking and falling away.

  “Stop that, look. This…” Que tapped his finger on the page a dozen times.

  Guan looked at the page, “It would only make sense if the stories and legends you love are true.”

  Que nearly jumped, his fingers still tapping, “Second aunt said she heard all these stories from the Sect Master. And the master knows them all. This book right here has a poem from the last Grand Elder of the Sect from when Master was Junior Brother Hao’s age!”

  Guan hated to admit it, but he read the line at the bottom of the page over and over again; it made him think about Hao’s physique.

  “Reclamation is about forging and tempering, not reforging and re-tempering… Only something like this… if it means what I think, could cause Yin and Yang to meld into his body if his aptitude was initially as bad as it was said.” Gaun forced the words up.

  Que pushed the book forward, “Exactly, he has an Islander Bloodline, not a Cultivator one, even if it’s a reach, it’s more likely this is true. ‘A new soul cleansed with stagnation’s rise.’” Que read a line, then looked up. “An outsider, and an Islander, joins the Sect, and rings the bell during this turmoil, Drifting Stream Sect. What kind of treasure is the Bone-Shaking Bell…”

  Guan put his hand over the book. “Junior Brother. It also says the bell would shatter the sky and echo beyond the void, but that didn’t happen.”

  He leaned forward, putting his weight on the table with a sigh. “Que, I need to get all this work done so I can cultivate. Master will make the final decision on the Slip from the Servants’ Hall.”

  “Right…” Que lowered his head, his face idle. He half turned, getting ready to leave, his steps quick as he said what he had to, “Oh, right. I encourage Junior Brother Hao to speak with our Young Lady Zu.” His pace suddenly increased as he got close to the door.

  “Even if you despise Ciyue, don’t involve other people in your conflicts. Your heart needs tempering,” Gaun spoke, but his eyes were on the book.

  “I didn’t think it would go so well and badly. Zu blushed, and well, that old dog Ciyue, I didn’t expect him to lose his temper; he must have been anxious because of the Sect Master’s Mid-Summer visit.” Que leaped out of the door and took off before Guan could raise his head.

  Guan could only sigh at his Junior Brother. He was alone in the room again, papers and scrolls in the file, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the last few lines on the page of the booklet, a message from the last Grand Elder from more than three hundred years ago.

  “Severed Fates, a pure soul, repurified and made whole, escape the waters’ grace, piercer of the Sun’s gold embrace…”

  “What this…” Guan found a small note on the back of the page where the poem was written; it was similar to the Sect Master’s writing, maybe a little more rigid.