‘
Gui asked, craning his neck to look back at her. Despite his lack of attention to the path ahead, his trundling gait didn’t falter, likely because Zhen’s glowing eyes remained fixed on their path despite resting his head on her shoulder.

  Ling Qi just smiled, reaching down from her perch between his shell spikes to pat her little brother on the head. “I’m just thinking about some things. Don’t worry about me.”


  ‘
Zhen hissed softly, his flicking tongue tickling her ear. ‘


  “Meizhen or Xiulan?” Ling Qi asked, bemused. “Maybe. I haven’t seen much of Meizhen in a little while.” Recently, she only saw Xiulan at the White Room, but it was difficult to recall what happened there.

  ‘
Gui chirped. ‘


  “Really?” Ling Qi was surprised. “When did that happen?”


  ‘
Zhen replied, looking pleased with himself. ‘


  ‘
Gui huffed, finally turning his eyes back to the front. ‘


  ‘
Zhen said, turning up his snout.

  ‘
Zhengui shot back with childish irritation. ‘


  Ling Qi closed her eyes as the two halves of her little brother bickered, leaning back against the stony surface of his shell. She would ask Meizhen about it later. Since her talk with Cai, she had been reflecting on her future. Once, she had thought growing strong would make matters less complicated and difficult, but that foolish notion was long gone from her head.

  Cai made things difficult for her. Ling Qi thought that she wanted to be a better person, but did she really? Did she want to be the kind of person who could follow Cai Renxiang and uphold her ideals, her justice, in truth?

  She wanted a home and a family. She wanted to surround herself with friends…… but how much did she really care about those that fell outside her circles, that gray mass of ‘other’ for which she found it difficult to remember faces, much less names?

  Thinking back on her time in the city, for every face she remembered, every person she left behind, weren’t there two or three more that she had hurt without thought? Did she really regret her actions or did she simply resent the situation which had led her to those acts? Did she really regret ruining two, almost three, people over a favor or did she merely feel guilty because she knew some of her friends wouldn’t approve?

  She didn’t know.

  ‘
Zhen’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she opened her eyes.

  Ahead of them, outlined in the dim light of the half moon in the sky above, was the shape of a graceful tower rising into the sky. This was the site of the glowing dot she had seen on the map from the puzzle box.

  The structure seemed oddly organic in profile like the trunk of an ancient tree. Mysterious silver and blue motes of light danced gently around the tower, casting light on its smooth sides that were unmarked by any mortal tool. Despite the unmarred walls though, it was obvious that what she looked upon was a ruin. Some twenty meters up, the tower simply ended at a sharp angle, as if something had slashed through it. Beyond, she could see the tumbled rubble of what she assumed to be the rest of the structure.

  ‘
Gui asked, a dazed sluggishness in his voice.

  Ling Qi glanced sharply at Zhengui and found Zhen’s head swaying back and forth, mesmerized. If she concentrated, she could hear it too, the quiet sounds of a merry song drifting from the broken tower. She felt the music as much as heard it, carried as it was on moonbeams and starlight more than any physical sound.

  Pulling on her connection to him, she dematerialized Zhengui, unfolding her legs to land on her feet as he let out a startled yelp.

  ‘Sorry, little brother,’ she thought to him, along with a feeling of apology. ‘But I need you to stay safe for now.’


  He was a good boy, she thought with a small smile as he grumbled in her head. She slipped into the shadow of a tree which stood at the edge of the clearing as she refocused on the tower. It was time to scout things out.

  Ling Qi stole across the remaining distance to the base of the tower as little more than a blur of liquid shadow, flitting from the shade of one tree to the next until she crouched within the shadow of the tower’s entryway. Whatever door had once barred the way was long since gone, and inside, there was only cold, dusty stone. Even in her more spiritual senses, there was naught but the faint strains of music from above.

  A careful search turned up no active formations nor any more mundane snares. She crept inside, peering carefully around the empty chamber within. Old leaves rotted in the corners, and here and there were the marks of vermin that inhabited the place, a few low grade one rats and their mundane cousins, nothing more. As she crept through the rest of the base level, she found the same, cold, empty rooms, long since looted.

  It made her feel unreasonably nervous as she approached the stair that wound up to the second level. The collapsed ceiling barring her way halfway up only raised her uneasy feeling further. Still, with a bit of effort, she was able to shift a few broken chunks of stone, making enough space for her to slip through in shadow form.

  The moment she passed through, she felt it. There was a frisson in the air as if she had just pushed through a hanging sheet of gauze.

  She was no longer crouched in a decrepit stairwell, but rather in the entryway of shimmering hall filled with mist. The floor was polished to a mirror sheen, and fanciful fluted silver columns rose to hold up a ceiling of glass, baring the misty hall to the light of the stars and moon above. But the architecture didn’t hold her attention.

  The inhabitants did. Everywhere she looked, she saw spirits. Clouds of fairies, their bodies little more than vaguely human shapes woven from silver wire, floating on wings of moonlight drifted about near the ceiling and fluttered over tables laden with succulent food and drink where pale blue lilies and other flowers bloomed between dishes.

  Across the mirror floor reveled a throng of other spirits, beautiful women and handsome men with gossamer wings and catlike eyes that burned with silver fire. Yet from one eyeblink to the next, spirits changed. A bipedal wolf in a gentleman’s robe danced with a pillar of liquid silver in the outline of a woman. A mass of fluttering moths descended from a window and become an androgynous figure, its face veiled behind feathery antennae, while a towering humanoid of rough crystal took its hand to lead it onto the floor. These dizzying sights, along with a thousand other sights which blurred before her eyes, were made worse by the perfect reflection of the floor and the many mirrors hanging from the narrow columns.

  She found herself reeling, a headache building behind her stinging eyes as she tried to make sense of the constantly shifting input. With the music building in her ears and the overwhelming intensity of the moon qi, her spiritual senses were rendered all but blind.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to cut out the worst and quickly cycled qi through her eyes and ears, channeling the effects of her Argent Mirror art. As the calming and stolid qi spread over her thoughts, the headache lessened, but the scents and sounds around her didn’t fade.

  “Cousin! We had wondered when you might come!”


  Ling Qi’s eyes snapped open in alarm, and she became aware that she had staggered onto the floor while overwhelmed by sensation. Before her stood a woman with eyes like deep black pools, marked only by churning sparks of unnameable color. She was dressed in delicate silver finery that floated around her slender form like a cloud of lace and silk. Her hair drifted behind her in a cloud of rainbow mist, chaotic and wild, somehow solid and not at the same time. She smiled welcomingly at Ling Qi, apparently unperturbed by her presence.

  Luckily, instinct took over for Ling Qi’s still somewhat dazed thoughts, and she recalled the fundamental axiom of being found in a place you didn’t belong.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it,” she said, keeping her voice light.

  “I was a bit surprised honestly.” Ling Qi felt a prickle of alarm as the woman took her hand, insistently leading her further into the room. It didn’t feel right, but for the life of her, she couldn’t see anything wrong with the woman’s perfectly manicured digits, save perhaps the length of her nails. It didn’t matter for the moment. She was surrounded after all. “That Xin so rarely attends these kinds of revels after all,” the woman chattered, glancing back at her with a vulpine grin.

  That at least relieved her a little. Xin had given her the map and knew this place, so perhaps it really was just that she was expected.

  “I suppose she isn’t here then?” Ling Qi asked politely. “Ah…… might I ask where we are going?” The woman was leading her through the crowd toward the far end of the hall where music pulsed more loudly in her blood. She could feel herself stepping more lightly, filled with a frenetic energy.

  “Why, to the stage of course,” the woman said, giving a delighted laugh as she wove through the ever-changing spirits. “You are going to be performing tonight after all!”


  “What,” Ling Qi said flatly, her eyes widening in alarm. “I don’t have anything prepared for something like this!” she exclaimed, forgetting her more serious worries. “I can’t just-” The woman’s grip was implacable, and she found her feet sliding across the floor without resistance even as she stopped walking.

  “Hush, little cousin, and quiet your fear.” The woman glanced back, still smiling. “An artist must always be able to improvise.”


  Ling Qi’s eyes widened in alarm as the spirit, who must be an avatar of the Dreaming Moon, pulled her closer and then spun her twice, laughing as the world blurred around them. Ling Qi let out an inelegant yelp as she was flung bodily onto the stage, landing in a crouch only due to practiced reflex.

  A tremble went up her spine as she found the eyes of the hall on her, and a rumble of words and cheers began to rise. She still felt disoriented, and her blood still pounded in her ears, lunar qi overflowing her meridians and dantian, soaking into her and filling her with a frantic energy. What…… what in the world was she supposed to play?

  It was already so hard to think, to focus. But Ling Qi stilled herself, forcing down her fear. If playing for a concert hall worth of moon spirits was the trial…… then fine. She could do this. She would just have to improvise. She raised her flute to her lips, not certain when she had taken it out, and began to play. The world seemed to tilt as the notes rang out and the revel roared.

  Ling Qi’s memories of that night would never really grow clear. There was only the blur of faces, human-like and inhuman, sounds of dancing and song, noise and merriment and chaos, the taste of sweet shimmering wines and exotic treats, and the scent of sweat, incense, and flowers. She remembered standing on Zhengui’s back as he balanced on his hind legs and ‘danced,’ laughing while she sang and spirits clapped. She remembered dancing with dozens of spirits and of being whirled around the ballroom floor by the Dreaming Moon herself. She remembered the cool feeling of a jade slip being pressed into her palm before the avatar disappeared back into the crowd.

  The last thing she remembered though, was stumbling home, leaning on the shoulder of a laughing girl with hair that shimmered in the colors of a rainbow.

  Threads 155-Past 1

  “Is it actually dead?” Hanyi asked suspiciously as she peeked her head out from behind a fallen chunk of stone.

  “It feels dead,” Gui said suspiciously. His scales were stained with blue and black ink, glistening wetly in the faint light cast by the cooling magma.

  “I felt its dantian shatter,” Xia Lin said, rising from the crouch she had landed in. One of the frosted bones at her feet shifted as it cracked. Everyone stiffened up for a moment before relaxing when nothing else happened.

  “Well, you weren’t wrong. We did handle it, even if I was a little worried at the end there,” Ling Qi said, lowering her flute as her feet touched the floor.

  Her back and chest hurt; the raw force which had slammed her into the floor had definitely left some bruises. Carefully, she prodded at her lower ribs and hissed. That was a fracture. Hairline though. She would be fine by tomorrow morning if she didn’t get in another fight.

  “You are certainly skilled at seizing attention,” Xia Lin agreed.

  “I had some advantages in this case,” Ling Qi said, shooting the bones a look of dislike. Although the thing’s death-addled mind hadn’t let it articulate its points well, she had felt the intent permeating the air. Whatever Hui Peng had been, she did not think he would have been a man she liked, even if he wasn’t a senile corpse. “Please search the body. Hanyi, keep watch. Zhengui, with me. I want you to shield me in case something goes wrong with the formation.”


  Xia Lin gave her a professional nod, and Hanyi winced a little as she hopped up onto the rock. Ling Qi bit her lip for a moment but forced herself forward. Hanyi was fine, just a little bruised. There was no need to fuss over her.

  Sixiang huffed.

  Ling Qi restrained herself from rolling her eyes as she stepped forward over the cooling ripples of magma toward the corpse’s chamber. Unsurprisingly, it was ruined. The furniture which had remained was ash, and so, too, were most of the papers and drawings. A few tattered scraps remained on the walls, but it was not enough to block her sight of the formation on the far wall.

  Her eyes widened as she saw the source of the glow. There, embedded in the center of intricate overlapping circles of characters etched in silver, was a single cyan-colored stone the size of a baby’s fist. Elation quickly dampened as she saw the many cracks running through it and the gray dust steadily trickling from the bottom of the stone.

  With Zhen poking his head through the door to watch over her shoulder, Ling Qi approached and examined the formation and the stone powering it. Thankfully, this was something she could do. In formations, power sources inevitably required changing and so were typically not too difficult to remove. After all, if someone had already reached the center of your power, the security had already failed. For the first time in quite a while, Ling Qi gestured, drawing forth the etching tools she had commissioned last year from her ring, and set to work carefully removing the blood access function from the locks holding the stone in place.

  Ten minutes of careful work later, the formation hummed and went silent as the stone tumbled out into her hands. She hadn’t lost her touch after all.

  A little more of the stone flaked off as it landed in her palm. While it still held plenty of energy in it, she wasn’t sure if it could even be used for cultivation any more. Still, a cyan stone was a cyan stone. Spirit stones above green quality had no set price because they were effectively strategic resources. She was sure that it would still sell for quite a sum.

  “The shiny web didn’t explode, Miss Gust!” she heard Gui call out behind her, presumably to Xia Lin.

  “Indeed it did not,” Ling Qi said wryly, materializing outside in a swirl of glittering shadow.

  “A good thing indeed,” Xia Lin replied with a straight face. She stood with her arms crossed over her dented chestplate, and the face covering of her helm was off. Ling Qi noted the flecks of blood on her lips.

  “Ah, I didn’t ask before, but you are well?”


  “I am combat ready,” Xia Lin answered, tapping her fist against the breastplate. Ling Qi heard a tiny pop and squeal as the shining metal straightened out just a tad. “No significant breaks or organ damage. I believe your own condition is similar?”


  Xia Lin had sharp eyes.

  “Yes, though I have less qi left than I’d like. The formation is down, and I did acquire this.” Ling Qi held out the cracked stone.

  Xia Lin’s eyebrows rose marginally as Zhengui trundled over to peer down at what they were doing. “Oh! Is it—”


  “It is not suitable for cultivation,” Ling Qi said sadly.

  “Ah, of course,” Xia Lin said unhappily as she studied the stone. “Still, a valuable find. Among the enemy’s equipment, his robe was unfortunately damaged.”


  Ling Qi gazed in consternation at the scraps of green silk that materialized in Xia Lin’s hands. It was still high quality, and power ran through it, but it was definitely not a whole talisman anymore. But Ling Qi thought back to her ruined bedsheets and glanced down at her dress.

  “However, his weapon was intact,” Xia Lin continued, opening her other hand to reveal a slender brush of dark wood, its head a fine tuft of hairs from some unknown beast. It practically glowed in her spiritual senses, so infused with potent powers. Even if she wasn’t a painter or calligrapher, its value was obvious.

  Ling Qi hummed to herself. “I’ll swap you the stone for both. My funding is taken care of at the moment, but my clan doesn’t exactly have a lot of treasures yet.”


  Xia Lin pondered this for a moment, then nodded. “That seems a fair trade, but I have some ill news about the ring.”


  Ling Qi frowned. “Is it sealed?”


  “Surprisingly not,” Xia Lin said as they swapped items. Vanishing the stone into her ring, she fished the corpse’s storage ring out of a belt pouch. “I think it’d be better if you see for yourself.”


  Ling Qi frowned as she dismissed her own loot and accepted the ring in her hand.

  Concentrating, she peered inside and blanched. Her own ring, when she peered into it, manifested in her mind’s eye as a small hollow stone cube, large enough to fit a goodly amount of materials. Peering into this ring, she saw entire rooms and corridors of gray stone that stretched out beyond her sight. She could sense within that the total volume was larger than her mother’s house, though its exact size seemed fuzzy to her.

  Worse, from floor to ceiling in every single space she could sense, were the stacks of papers, books, and scrolls. What must have been multiple tonnes of paper flooded the ring, most of it packed with tiny, elegant script.

  She frowned as she felt it tug at her, and Ling Qi sensed that she could enter the ring, much like she did Sixiang’s dream space. She supposed that made sense. So far as she knew, storage techniques worked by pinching off a bubble of liminal space.

  “I think we’ll need help organizing this.”


  “Agreed.” Xia Lin sighed. “Given the source, there is too much chance that there are important documents within.”


  That was disappointing. The full extent of looting was going to have to be delayed.

  At least a last search before they left revealed quite a number of yellow stones and red stones in a hidden stash. Cheerfully, the two split the stash, and Ling Qi tucked her share away.

  ***

  “And that, my lady, is what we have discovered of the terrain ahead.” Ling Qi completed her report to Cai Renxiang with her head bowed. They were just under the eaves of the outermost trees of the forest. Renxiang stood in the center, flanked by Meng Dan and Gan Guangli, while Xia Lin stood behind her, bowing as well.

  Ling Qi didn’t need to look up to know that her liege was wearing that slightly pinched look that she got when things escalated beyond initial parameters.

  “A surviving Hui corpse immortal, Ling Qi? I would ask if you were jesting if I did not know perfectly well that you are not,” Cai Renxiang said flatly.

  To her side, Ling Qi saw Gan Guangli blink and give the heiress a surprised look.

  “I can confirm Lady Ling’s report, Lady Cai,” Xia Lin said.

  “Of course,” Cai Renxiang said without hesitation. “You disposed of the corpse properly?”


  “We burned it as well as we could,” Ling Qi answered. Zhengui had been helpful. “It may be a good idea to message the Sect. Neither of us are qualified to perform death rites. I can confirm that the formation is shut down fully though.”


  “Very well,” Cai Renxiang said. “However, for the remainder of the trip, I will not have you range so far ahead. Ling Qi, I sense that your energy is significantly depleted.”


  She grimaced and dipped her head lower. “The enemy had potent techniques.” She hadn’t noticed it at first, but her qi had continued to slowly dwindle away for a while after the fight. The Hui’s technique had clung to her like her own hoarfrost until it had weakened enough for Sixiang to cleanse.

  “Then you will remain with the group even after we reach the halfway point. Xia Lin, you will take point until the baroness’ energy has recovered, but remain within one kilometer of the group.”


  “Yes, my lady,” Xia Lin said, thumping her fist against her repaired breastplate.

  That didn’t sound too bad, but Ling Qi stiffened as Renxiang’s gaze fell back on her.

  “The contents of the ring you spoke of must be catalogued. While our mission is important, so is such an unprecedented find. Ling Qi, while you rest, I expect you to aid Meng Dan in this. Your spirit beast will suffice to carry the two of you while we move,” Renxiang said, clasping her hands behind her back as she stepped past Ling Qi.

  There it was. Ling Qi sighed, straightening up. She shot Gan Guangli a wan smile, and he shook his head, stifling a guffaw.

  “My, you do not waste any time on keeping things interesting, do you?” Meng Dan asked, smiling faintly as he passed her as well. She fell in beside him.

  “I would say that I try, but I really don’t,” Ling Qi said.

  “It is the nature of the talented to bend fortune around them,” Meng Dan said pleasantly.

  Ling Qi gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. “Is that an actual thing, or just a saying?”


  “Just a saying. Although it is true that attention from spirits does correlate strongly with talent.”


  “So not just a saying at all.” Ling Qi sighed.

  “As you like,” Meng Dan said. “I rather expect the correlation between talent and fortune to be circular myself.”


  Sixiang thought.

  “So how are we going to do this?” Ling Qi asked.

  “I think we should just organize the contents for now. Reading and identifying everything would likely take too long,” Meng Dan suggested. “Where do you think you will be most useful?”


  “I think my abilities would be best spent sifting out any arts from the texts or identifying bits of formationwork among the texts,” Ling Qi said after a moment.

  “Not a bad idea. I certainly don’t have much of a head for interacting with formations.”


  “Really? I would think that dealing with old libraries would require some skill at that kind of thing.”


  “I leave those matters to Yinhui,” Meng Dan replied, his habitual smile turning fond. “She does love her maths and puzzles.”


  Ling Qi hummed noncommittally. It did make sense to specialize differently from one’s spirits, she supposed.

  Sixiang teased.

  Ling Qi was sure that she didn’t know what Sixiang was talking about.

  Hanyi asked.

  Ling Qi pursed her lips. An image of Hanyi lackadaisically wandering the stacks, plucking out anything interesting, flittered across her mind. Hastily, she thought,

  Hanyi seemed suspicious in her head, but in the end, she couldn’t deny Ling Qi’s sincerity.

  Zhengui grumbled.

  “It must be very noisy in your thoughts,” Meng Dan said, glancing up at the dark canopy overhead. They trailed a short distance behind Cai Renxiang and Gan Guangli. “I am surprised that you can manage without feeling harried at all times.”


  Ling Qi smiled, despite Zhengui and Hanyi beginning to bicker in her head. “I find I don’t mind. It’s comforting, not being alone.”


  Meng Dan nodded agreeably, but she noted he did not actually reply. Ling Qi focused her eyes forward on a clear patch of ground before drawing Zhengui’s bulk from her dantian.

  Time to finally check out the rest of the loot.