Starlight and beams of moonlight trickled into her channels like droplets of clear, pure water. The slim crescent moon shone faintly overhead, no less potent than her sisters in the qi that streamed down from the celestial body.

  On her rooftop, Ling Qi breathed in and cycled her qi, letting the new energy mix with her own. Once, twice, a score and more, she kneaded the celestial qi until it merged with her own. At this point, the act of taking in the moon’s qi did not require heavy concentration, but Ling Qi wanted to think. The inkbrush and paper laying on the folding tray on her lap remained unused as of yet.

  She had known this was coming, but the reality of it was different. She had a noble title. It still felt bizarre to her. Just a year ago, she had been scrabbling for scraps. Now, she had authority. She could, if she were so inclined, command rich, mortal men who would have had guards throw her scrawny urchin self out on the street with a beating for her trouble to grovel and kowtow in the dirt.

  In theory anyway. Bullying mortals was looked down on in noble circles, Ling Qi thought wryly. It would make her look weak and childish unless she contrived to make it look like they had committed some major offense first. It was more trouble than it was worth, and frankly, she didn’t care all that much anymore. How many faces from Tonghou did she even recall?

  Well, there were one or two at least.

  She needed to inform Mother of this. Even if they were still distant, Ling Qi’s noble title affected her mother a great deal because as a mortal, her mother was effectively Ling Qi’s ward. Her lips twisted into a frown. It still felt wrong and bizarre that she could treat her own mother like a child and expect it to be backed up by legal force.

  Would the older woman resent her for it? Ling Qi didn’t think so, but at the same time, for all that they had begun communicating again, how well did she really know her mother? Even if she didn’t resent her consciously, the simple fact of her authority would be a specter haunting their future interactions.

  Or maybe she was just overthinking things and a woman who had lived like her mother had would understand and accept things as they were. Ling Qi let out a breath, allowing the flow of her qi to slow. Picking up her brush, she smoothed the paper down. No more second guessing.

  The missive was short, but Ling Qi didn’t really feel like it would be appropriate to mix other things into the subject of this letter. Looking down at the drying ink, Ling Qi sighed and closed her eyes. She would send it out in the morning when she had finished cultivating. Hopefully, her mother would respond promptly.

  She also needed to deal with Xiulan’s family. Looking back, it was probably more than a little rude to not even speak to Gu Tai after their introduction, as awkward and lacking as it had been. She would send him a message tomorrow as well, asking to speak.

  Ling Qi stood, dismissing her writing implements back into her ring. For now, she wanted to get her weekly sleep in.

  ***

  The next morning, Ling Qi headed down to the village with Zhengui in tow and made her arrangements at the local branch of the Ministry of Communications, sending off her letter and a tithe of silver. She also had a message sent to Gu Tai, asking to meet at his convenience. She didn’t want to be pushy.

  That done, she left the village to do some work and training with Zhengui. She intended to take him out to the more wild part of the woods for some more intense training and cultivation later this week, but for now, the outskirts would do. Zhengui was growing well, and by the end of the week, she was sure he would advance to the middle of the second realm if she kept feeding him as she did. Thankfully, heading deeper into the woods meant that she would be able to harvest quality second grade cores too at the same time.

  It wasn’t the most active activity though. Zhengui was maturing, and he needed less and less help to hunt. It left Ling Qi open to idle thoughts as she perched in the boughs, watching her little brother. What was she going to do in the future?

  Ling Qi had a very difficult time picturing herself as a baroness, as any kind of ruler really. Yet that was now what she was. She could stay with the Sect of course, maybe even become a permanent member. In a few hundred years, perhaps there could even be disciples calling her Elder Qi.

  Ling Qi laughed to herself at the thought. Zhengui erupted from the dirt, and Zhen’s fang’s caught a frightened rabbit. Unlike in his younger days, the beast did not escape. Picturing herself as a Sect Elder seemed just as absurd as being a baroness.

  She really didn’t know what path she wanted to walk to build her home. She only knew that she wanted to keep climbing the mountain that was cultivation, to strengthen the wings she had so that she could carry any roots she chose to take on.

  Ling Qi passed a few hours like that, musing on the future. A bit before noon, she received a fluttering note in reply from Gu Tai, agreeing to meet her. The note gave directions to the inn he was staying at as well as a time. She rather hoped he wasn’t intending to meet her in his room.

  She knew she was being silly. That would be all kinds of inappropriate, and whatever else she thought about the matter, Xiulan’s cousin had not seemed like the type to do that. The indicated time was a couple hours from now, so Ling Qi ended her training session shortly thereafter and Zhengui settled sleepily into her dantian. While she wasn’t going to go overboard, she should probably at least make sure she didn’t have leaves in her hair or mud on her shoes when she went to see him. She had taken at least a few of Xiulan’s lessons on presentation to heart.

  When she arrived at the inn, she found her initial knee-jerk concern unfounded, as she thought it would be. Upon informing the attendant at the front desk of who she was here to see, a serving girl had led her out onto a sunny little veranda overlooking the building’s central gardens. There were a few tables scattered across it, but it maintained a quiet and serene atmosphere.

  Ling Qi didn’t miss the subtle formation work carved in the borders of the polished wooden boards that made up the floor. At a glance, she could see that it was meant to insulate each table from sounds rising from the others, essentially creating bubbles of relative privacy despite the open floor. Gu Tai was seated at the table situated in the far left corner of the veranda overlooking a clear pond studded with white water lilies.

  Xiulan’s cousin wore a deep crimson tunic decorated with fine gold embroidery depicting images of dancing flames and soaring phoenixes and baggy white pants tucked into polished black boots. As she approached, he looked up from the object he had been toying with; she recognized it as a paixiao, a set of pipes constructed out of more than a dozen wooden tubes of varying length. His was made of some kind of odd milky crystal.

  “Miss Ling, I was glad to receive your invitation,” he greeted as she passed the line of silence around the table and the server bowed and took her leave. “I see you have been making good use of your time. Congratulations on reaching the third realm so soon,” he continued with a smile.

  “You are too kind,” Ling Qi replied politely, pulling her eyes away from the instrument to meet his gaze. He didn’t seem offended at her delay in reaching out to him, so that was good. She took her own seat across from him, folding her hands in her lap as she leaned back in the comfortably padded chair. With her newly sharpened senses, she could feel that he was in the fifth stage of green and the fourth of bronze. “The last few months have been very hectic,” she said cautiously. “I appreciate your patience and hope you haven’t been inconvenienced overmuch.”


  For just a moment, the handsome boy’s smile took on a self-deprecating edge. “Do not concern yourself. I am not losing time on anything important at the moment. I have other duties to my clan to resolve in addition to making my offer to you.” He glanced down at the pipes in his hands and set them down on the table with a light clink. “Tell me, is it true that inner province girls swoon over musicians?”


  Ling Qi blinked at the sudden change in subject. “I wouldn’t know,” she commented dryly, “being a girl from a border province. Was that the plan?”


  “No,” he laughed. “I thought it might serve as a conversation starter, but it seemed a bit too obvious. I haven’t practiced in years either. I would not want to embarass myself.”


  Ling Qi regarded him curiously. “Why did you stop?” she asked.

  “It is seen as a rather effeminate hobby in the Golden Fields,” Gu Tai admitted freely. “And other things took precedence,” he continued, running his fingers over the crystal pipes. “If I may be blunt, Miss Ling, you do not find our offer very attractive, do you?”


  Ling Qi winced. “It is a very good offer, and you aren’t lacking in any way.”


  He waved off her conciliatory words. “There is no need to spare my feelings,” he said with a wry grin. “I admit, I have done a little information gathering of my own. I strongly suspect you have at least one offer with which I cannot hope to materially compete with, even with the Gu clan’s significant prestige and wealth.”


  Ling Qi remained silent. Cai had asked her not to mention anything about her offer.

  “The company you keep does make things rather obvious to one who knows the proclivities of certain parties,” he continued airily. “And with your breakthrough, I doubt you will find the Sect’s rewards lacking should you advance to the Inner Sect.”


  “It seems like you have things figured out,” Ling Qi replied. “Are you giving up then?” she asked. Somehow, that seemed a little disappointing.

  “No.” Gu Tai’s blunt reply surprised her. “Perhaps it is just my temperament, but it would gall me to surrender without a fight. I know that the Golden Fields are not an attractive prospect, but I would like you to seriously consider it all the same.”


  “I’m not sure what there is to consider,” Ling Qi admitted. “I can’t say I dislike the idea of exploring, of discovering new things, but I don’t know you. This whole marriage thing – It’s-” she broke off uncomfortably.

  “I suspected that might be the trouble. I forget, sometimes, that other provinces are not as staunchly traditionalist as our own. Somewhat ironic, considering,” he mused.

  “Considering what?” Ling Qi raised an eyebrow.

  “My own position,” he answered. “As much as I believe in the reclamation and its great importance to our province, I admit that part of the appeal is freeing myself of our clan politics. Xiulan’s father and mine were…… rivals, and I suspect the only reason he tolerates me is due to cousin Yanmei’s obvious genius.” He shook his head. “Regardless, I could promise you that I would be an attentive and productive husband, but I suspect that would not reassure you.”


  “Not really,” she said uncomfortably. “As I said, it’s not really a problem with you. I’m just not really comfortable with the idea of marrying so early, and with so little……” Ling Qi trailed off.

  “I do find you an attractive prospect in many ways,” Gu Tai continued after a moment. “Your talent and determination both do you great credit. Yet I am not the kind of man to press my attention where it is not wanted.” He met her eyes with his own, expression uncharacteristically serious.

  “Thank you, I think,” she replied tentatively. He must have drawn entirely wrong conclusions from her words. She may have let the young man’s generally lax attitude make her forget that he was a cousin to Xiulan with all that implied. He had very intense eyes when he was fired up. Silently strangling that thought, Ling Qi clarified, “For the compliment and not being…… pushy.”


  “It is no more than you deserve. From my observations and Xiulan’s words, you are a rare gem indeed,” Gu Tai said, the fire fading from his voice as he allowed his posture to once again grow lax. “Might I ask what I could do to improve my suit in your eyes, Miss Ling?”


  “I don’t know,” she evaded. “I think getting to know one another better might help?” She felt flustered, if she were being honest with herself.

  He looked her over, brows furrowed in thought. “Your spirit beast is fire natured, is he not? I can feel his qi clinging to you yet.”


  “Partially,” Ling Qi replied, feeling a little more on balance with this subject. “Zhengui is fire and wood. I suspect he is aligned with the concepts of cyclic growth and destruction.” Her reading had introduced her to the fact that stronger beasts aligned with certain Ways, as Xin had previously hinted cultivators must become as they advanced through the realms.

  “Interesting,” Gu Tai said, resting his chin on his hands. “Let me offer this then: my own spirit has a somewhat similar theme. Would it be acceptable for me to join you in your lessons? I might have some useful advice on how to develop his abilities.”


  That did sound good. Even if his cultivation wasn’t that much higher than hers, he did have years more experience. On the other hand, some part of her was still deeply uncomfortable with the situation.

  “Thank you for your kind offer. Might I have some time to consider it?” she asked, leaving other thoughts unsaid.

  “Certainly,” he agreed, relaxing in his seat. “I will not press you any further. Would you care to stay for lunch?”


  Ling Qi politely declined and took her leave after that, filled with an undefined feeling. She really wasn’t used to being complimented, even though she knew objectively that Gu Tai hadn’t even been very heavy-handed about it……

  She was just going to lock herself in the meditation room and start working on breakthrough for a while.

  Threads 153-Rot 2

  Ling Qi rose from the net of dream webbing as if it were no more than air, no longer smiling. Beneath her, the solid shell of Zhengui, already aglow with volcanic light, formed and beside her was Hanyi, smiling viciously. Caught in mid-leap, the three spiders screeched in unison as she played the howl of a blizzard on her flute.

  Behind her, the lump of webbing where Xia Lin had stood blazed with pitiless radiance before ripping apart, the thicker structural webbing beneath shattering and leaving a ragged hole where she had stood. A comet of white light roared through the air, and the largest of the spiders screamed as a radiant blade cracked open her chitinous abdomen and severed the strings of power that radiated from her, causing the hypnotic colors and venomous qi shrouding the others to fade.

  Two spiders hung behind them in confusion, weaving a net to prevent a flight that wasn’t coming.

  Ling Qi smiled as her domain weapon emerged, and The Mist flooded out, drowning the hundreds of lesser spiders in further confusion as she focused on the three frostbitten spiders scrambling back onto their webs in front of her. From her flute came the Spring’s End and the Echoes of Winter, the air around her cooling frighteningly fast as Hanyi sang along. Webbing cracked as the moisture in it froze and expanded.

  The damage to the web chamber grew worse as Zhengui rumbled angrily beneath her and winter’s chill met volcanic heat, transforming cold mist into scalding steam as a ring of magma erupted from below. Spiders shrieked in their hundreds as silk withered, melted, and caught on fire.

  Above, Xia Lin zipped past, leaving a blinding trail as her boots stamped down on the first spider’s face, launching her upward to pierce the ceiling and the belly of one of the spiders above, severing another web of enhancing energies before it could finish forming.

  But their enemies were already beginning to regain their bearings. Three spiders leapt over the roiling ring of magma, skittering on webs of qi through the air and seeming to blink from one place to the next as they circled and closed in on her. Ling Qi and Hanyi vanished before their fangs could find purchase, leaving a trail of shadows and snowflakes as they reappeared in midair, Hanyi dangling from her back.

  It left the spiders skittering across Zhengui’s broad and expanding back as he took advantage of the growing space in the ruined chamber. A flicker of silver zipped past in the corner of her vision, and Ling Qi saw one of the two rearguard spiders squeal as an arming sword buried itself in the creature’s face, and radiant energy crackled through its spirit, causing its whole body to seize and convulse.

  Ling Qi swooped forward toward the recovering spider matriarch, and Hanyi leapt off of her back with a laugh as she passed over Zhengui, grasping onto one of the three spiders there. Her Singing Mist Blade shot toward the second with the melancholy wail of a lost child, and Zhen’s fangs pierced the third. Behind her, song became silence, drowning the sounds of battle.

  Ling Qi played the song of an advancing glacier as she bore down on the matriarch, and the force of her qi punched the beast through the gray and sagging webbing, weakened by flame and radiance.

  Following through, Ling Qi emerged among shattered walls and dark stone to face the hissing spider matriarch, whose sword-like limbs sliced through the air, leaving ripples where they passed through Ling Qi’s form. Webs of illusion and sleep wove around her, but she passed through their net as if they were not there, and the echo of the glacier smashed the spider against the stone wall again, cracking carapace further.

  Ling Qi alighted upon the creature’s bleeding back and sang of hoarfrost, and ichor froze as a lethal cold crept into the beast’s wounded body. Behind her, radiance washed out, lighting the expansive cave as Xia Lin erupted from the sagging cocoon of webbing with a spider impaled, wriggling on the end of her blade. She spun her weapon twice over her head and flung the creature off with a thunderous boom, followed shortly after by a wet splat of impact on the cave’s far wall.

  Ling Qi looked down at the struggling spider with a touch of pity. They could not have known that Ling Qi and, it seemed, Xia Lin so perfectly countered their abilities. Even now, the spider below her was confused and shocked, barely able to understand how swiftly things had gone against her. Ling Qi felt the gathered power in her lungs, the silence that would spill forth with just a little push.

  She sang, and the spider matriarch grew still.

  Ling Qi returned to the central nest on a gust of wind to find that Xia Lin had already returned, punching back through to the finish one of the lesser spiders. She politely averted her eyes from Zhen, whose throat still bulged with a half-swallowed spider, its twitching legs poking out of his mouth. Observing the last thrashings of the spider Xia Lin was finishing, Ling Qi pursed her lips.

  Looking upon it now, it seemed that her estimations of the spiders’ power had been off. While the matriarch at least had been an equal, this one was only in the early stage of the green realm.

  “It is an uncommon but not unknown effect among Hui-aligned beasts,” Xia Lin explained when Ling Qi voiced her thoughts. There was a crack and a wet noise as she twisted her halberd once, and the gleaming arming sword circling her shoulders flitted down, embedding itself to the hilt in the creature’s body. “It is a sort of linking. It offers the most powerful creatures in the link a measure of control over their lessers in exchange for a blurring of the lines between cultivation stages. I had thought it strange that so many of such close cultivation would cooperate.”


  “I did not give you a chance to relay information,” Ling Qi said, dipping her head in apology. “You destroyed the effect in the initial exchange?”


  “She did,” Xia Lin answered, tightening her grip on her halberd and pulling it free. The polearm spun expertly in her hands until its head faced up again, splattered ichor already boiling from the intricate blade in a cloud of acrid smoke, leaving it clean and unblemished.

  “Of course,” Ling Qi acknowledged. She glanced away at the sound of bare feet on stone, and Hanyi ran up to her, grinning.

  “Did you see, Big Sis? I totally ruined one of them by myself!” Hanyi said proudly, holding a handful of red globules that took Ling Qi a moment to recognize. They were flash frozen spider eyeballs.

  She rested her hand on Hanyi’s head and smiled. “Good job, little sister.”


  Xia Lin looked at both of them pensively. “I will admit, I had some misgivings about your plan, but it seems that I have misjudged you somewhat.”


  “Hmph. When Big Sis is confident, it’s for a good reason,” Hanyi huffed, annoyed at her praise being interrupted.

  “I like to think so,” Ling Qi said dryly. “I knew that I would not need to worry about being entrapped, and I was certain I could free you if need be.”


  “Your thoughts mirrored mine then,” Xia Lin said. “But it seems that we both know the truth that one must never cease moving forward.”


  Ling Qi met Xia Lin’s eyes then, and with The Mist still shrouding the battlefield, she really looked at the girl with the full power of her domain thrumming beneath her armor.

  Ling Qi gave Xia Lin an acknowledging nod. It seemed they had more in common than she had thought. Then, her Singing Mist Blade shimmered, and the mist began to fade. The arming blade embedded in the corpse at their feet flashed. They were once again just two young women standing in the ruins of a burnt out nest.

  “What do we do now, Big Sister?” Zhengui asked, trundling over. “Gui does not think the little spiders will talk.”


  “They don’t need to,” Ling Qi replied. She looked toward the one part of the broken-up suite of rooms still whole, just visible beyond the dead bulk of the spider carcass the nest had been built into. “I can see where the energies flow now.”


  ***

  Making their way across the ruined floor, Ling Qi was wary. She would have thought that if the spiders had any other allies present, like this “lord,” they would have noticed and joined the fight, short as it had been. She supposed it was possible that they were being watched or that any observers had retreated instead.

  Ling Qi’s wisps spun throughout the dusty chamber but found nothing.

  “This is the target then?” Xia Lin asked quietly, pointing her blade at the small stone chamber surrounded by rubble.

  “Inside,” Ling Qi agreed, gesturing at the wooden door set in the closest wall. It was a finely fitted thing, still holding its polish, preserved by formations which had failed everywhere else. The twisting, spiralling lines of energy which flowed through the complex converged here, wrapping around a stone column that extended from the ceiling before meeting at some hidden source inside.

  Behind her, Zhengui lumbered along at a bit over half of his full size with Hanyi perched on his back. There was no point in concealing them now.

  Humming to herself, Ling Qi observed the door. It was sealed tight. Not a single wisp got through to the interior.

  Sixiang murmured.

  What a troublesome room. Ling Qi examined the door and its frame, studying the characters etched into the wood, filled with powdered silver. There was no handle or lock. Her fingers itched for her formation-breaking tools, but she was stymied by the complexity. They were already going to be cutting it close on reporting back.

  “Xia Lin, do you believe you can remove the obstacle without setting off any defenses?”


  Her companion stepped forward, assessing the doorway. She nodded sharply. “These patterns are old. They have not been updated against modern countermeasures.”


  Ling Qi raised an eyebrow. “Are there countermeasures to Her Grace’s work?”


  Xia Lin made a disgruntled sound as she gestured for Ling Qi to step back. “Nothing is absolute, and my equipment and techniques are hardly the pinnacle of the Duchess’ craft.”


  Ling Qi fell back beside Zhengui, who turned his heads curiously. Hanyi was inattentive, rolling a frozen spider eye around in her mouth like a piece of sugar candy.

  “What are you waiting for, Big Sis?” Gui asked.

  “There’s no reason for me to risk the defenses. We can hardly be quiet at this point,” Ling Qi said, patting him on the head. “Just be ready in case whatever is inside attacks.”


  Her little brother bobbed both of his heads intently, focusing on the door and Xia Lin. Hanyi gave her a grin stained red by her “candy” and a thumbs up.

  Ahead of them, Xia Lin brushed her fingers across the curved head of her halberd, and gleaming white light spread behind her touch, transforming metal into liquid light. The haft of the weapon hummed visibly in her hand as she took a short grip and stabbed forward. The blazing head punched through stone like soft clay, droplets of molten stone splashing across Xia Lin’s armor as she began to drag the blade upward from the base of the doorframe.

  Formation chains sparked and sputtered as they were carved apart, and veins of white crawled through stone and wood as threads of radiance wormed outward through them. It was, Ling Qi thought, a sight she had seen once before in a dream. But this doorway was not the shadow of an ancient king, and where the white threads crawled, the intricate work unraveled and went dead. Xia Lin carved a rough rectangle around the doorway.

  With her senses enhanced to search for watchers, Ling Qi was able to see as the bonds between particulates of qi that made up the door dispersed in a flash of white, the cut-out material disintegrating before her eyes into a loose cloud of glittering, gauzy thread that itself dissolved like the tatters of a dream before the morning sun.

  The putrid air that rolled out of the newly open chamber almost made her retch. Through watering eyes, she saw Xia Lin herself stagger, reflexively covering her mouth and nose with her hand. Zhen and Hanyi reeled back as if struck, and even Gui shook his head violently as if bothered by flies.

  And flies there were. They boiled from the room in a great cloud, greying the air with their bodies and filling the chamber with the buzzing of their wings. She saw a hundred tiny sparks of radiance as flies impacted Xia Lin’s armor and died.

  She saw then what lay inside. It was a small room that once might have been partially furnished, but what remained of that lay in rotten ruin on the floor, crawling with flies and maggots and other verminous shapes.

  However, the bare stone walls were not unadorned. Paper and parchment were pinned up all across them, haphazard and wild, covered in scribbled text and drawings. She saw fragments of wild plans, plots to infiltrate clans and sow plagues, to subvert individuals, and to sabotage road wardings. She saw drawings of cities aflame and people who might have been members of the province’s comital clans humbled and on their knees, and images of proud and haughty folk, mounted on spiderback, riding in triumph down city streets.

  Most of all, there were dozens of portraits of what could only be the Duchess painted in stark black ink. Some were torn apart, and some were marked by wild strokes of the brush or smears of blood and fouler things.

  In the center of the room sat a corpse. Sallow grey-green flesh hung from its bones, quivering with the influx of air. The meat of the corpse writhed with maggots and teemed with flies, but it wore resplendent robes of green and silver, cut in a somewhat archaic fashion. Smooth black hair, incongruously clean and intact, flowed like silk down the corpse’s back and hid its face from view.

  It was only when she saw its hand move that she realized that it was not simply a corpse.