She remembered, as she often did, the words of her Master.

“The Way is the path to the Stars.”

Inspiration that from her Master’s lips flowed more like venom than mantra.

As often as she remembered Master’s words, she also remembered Master’s hands. Their length and precision were both dazzling and eerie, always in motion but never a wasted motion. Perhaps that was why she held onto these words in particular, this moment fingers and lips were twinned.

Agile digits first worked the seal then explored the innards of an earthenware jar. Her Master’s face had flickered almost imperceptibly the moment they found what they had been searching for. A bulbous horror emerged from within, crawling its way across the length of Master’s fingers. Its form looked near to bursting, yet it moved with an odd serenity. The creature’s mandibles did not click in agitation, its many legs seemed to move with purpose.

“The end result of a Gu ritual. Even something so insignificant can gain worth from trial and consumption.”

Master flicked the creature upward then caught it in their mouth and swallowed.

“Poison on poison begets poison. Worth on worth begets worth. As things capable of thought you have value, however little. And like these insignificant things you can aspire to be something more than you are, gather the disparate grains around you and build a castle though it may crumble. It is the same for you mortals and immortals such as I, it is only through the ritual of conflict and consolidation that something of true value can arise.”

Her Master looked upward.

“As with us below, so too above.”

It was the only time she remembered Master smiling.

“A Gu that spans the cosmos and is girded by the heavens.”

An almost rapturous pause.

“Doesn’t it sound wondrous?”

---

Yao Heng was displeased, as he often was. Contrary to popular belief, he was not always displeased. He was just often displeased, and this was one of those many times. He didn’t revel in displeasure, but it seemed to find him regardless.

“Sister Su, why was I selected for such an insignificant duty?”

Sister Su herself looked displeased, something that rarely graced her features.

“Brother Yao, I would like to remind you that I too was selected for such an insignificant duty.”

She tapped her foot.

“But the answer is already there in the word duty.”

With that, Sister Su began a silent march through the muck and Yao Heng followed. Feral, savage, teeming, inchoate. Those were the words that best described the Wending, a seemingly endless sprawl of slums that fanned out to the north of the Burnished Capital.

“How many disciples have we found from the Wending in all our years of searching?”

He didn’t expect much of a response.

“Diligence is important.”

He received as he expected.

“Let it be someone else’s diligence then.”

It was an inane task that distracted from infinitely more pressing duties, the chance of success, the chance of finding a pearl in the desert. As the two disciples journeyed deeper into the Wending their senses shifted toward an odd reverie. The squelch of mud beneath their feet, the cacophony of human distress and excess, the unending squalor. It was a sort of meditation, and as hours stretched to days they wordlessly fulfilled their duty.

Time ticked toward the end of their service, and their contemplation continued unabated. It seemed no man would shoot down the Sun, no bird would fill the sea.

But perhaps two, man and woman, could find a pearl.

A pearl of consciousness that had arisen from the filth.

Su Bayi smiled.

“How fortuitous.”

---

The woman was tall, taller than any she had seen in a long time.

The man was tall, taller than any she had seen in a long time.

But they were both shorter than Master.

It was strange, she thought, that she saw them at all. She did not see people very often, though they were very often around here. The last person she had really seen was Master.

But these two were different.

“How fortuitous.”

The words thrummed in her brain despite their softness, echoing against the inside of her skull.

Fortune?

“I remember you asked how many disciples we had found, Brother Yao?”

The man laughed, his bald head bobbing up and down with the tides of his mirth.

“This makes four, Sister Su.”

The woman bent down, her face now just inches away.

“Do you have a name?”

She shook her head.

“Kun Si, then. From this day you will be Kun Si.”

Kun Si.

Her name was Kun Si.

---

Su Bayin was well pleased, if a bit beset.

Fortune was a concept that had often eluded her in the past. It was certainly a matter of perspective. Her fortune was certainly greater than the masses that seemed to endlessly bubble forth from the froth of the Wending, but compared to her peers she was lacking in this department. Even Yao Heng could be said to be more fortunate than her. If he was half-lucky then she was a quarter, the lesser of a luckless tandem. Even if one were to argue that their misfortune could be equal, Yao Heng was allowed to express his disdain for his lot. A man’s rage made them hotblooded, a woman’s made her ugly. She had no leeway. If she was to be cursed by misfortune in all things, then she must be flawlessly beautiful and flawlessly capable in the things under her own power.

But this had been a moment of shining providence.

The scales of fortune so tilted against them had given them an incomparable boon.

So Su Bayin was well-pleased, even as she withered slightly under the gaze of her Sect Leader.

Kun Yunru.

The Lord of the Eight Peak, among other titles. Remembering them all was almost too exhaustive, though Bayin had always found some amusement in the more mundane of their number. Seeing Captivator of Cattle placed amid the Starlit Suzerain and the Inexorable White Wind had often drawn a laugh during evenings spent poring over esoteric texts.

She had never spoken to Kun Yunru, and had only seen him once before during her initiation . His duties often took him to far flung reaches of the Blasted Lands, his invaluable time at the sect inevitably monopolized by the Elders or disciples of a higher order. His presence was oddly reserved, with none of the haughty bearing of the Elders or even the inherent pressure that seemed to pour off cultivators that had reached his stature.

Seated on a heavily cushioned plinth, Yunru’s body was cocooned by pillows and bedding. His once-regal robe had been crinkled, and he looked like a duckling swaddled by an entirely overprotective parent. The contrast between her expectations and reality did little to calm Bayin’s nerves, and she felt her legs turn closer and closer to jelly beneath her.

“Ah, Bayin. It’s been too long since I’ve last seen you. What has it been? Ten long years now? The days just get longer and longer the longer that you’re alive.”

She hadn’t even blinked. The plinth was now entirely empty, and Yunru’s entire silk-bundled bulk had grabbed her in a hug.

“I called you here, since I should thank you. Kun San and Kun Er were complete failures. Knowing Yao Heng, I didn’t want to entrust him with the initial development for Kun Si. But I myself am unsuitable, and acclimation by a first contact is preferable. Really, I’m just way too busy, there’s no way that I could fit in my schedule. There are things to do here and there and everywhere else. But you have plenty of time, don’t you? Stagnating at the peak of the third realm has given you a lot of time! And you’re the one who named her, so I’ve been told. Or rather so I’ve heard.”

Words formed in her mouth, but exited as a half-yelp.

“You shouldn’t be so nervous.”

The Sect Leader tried to let her down, but as Bayin began to wobble he caught her again in an armful of cushiony soft.

“We’ve known each other a long time after all. There’s no need for formality. Please, call me Yunru if it will make you feel more comfortable. My good friends even call me Yun Yun, if that would make you more at ease.”

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She couldn’t speak, she could barely move.

Yu Kunru’s alabaster eyes narrowed. Sharp cheekbones lost a bit of their edge as his smile turned to a frown. He ran both hands through his shoulder length hair, black as jet, in agitation. Though her back had lost the support of his arm she did not fall, suspended in the air by an invisible force.

“You’re not very useful in this state.”

He tutted.

“And I wanted to have a nice conversation as well. People don’t really talk to me. But if it’s instructions you prefer I will give them. Stand at attention then, Su Bayin.”

Her body forcibly straightened, knees locked as every muscle became taut and rigid. Her arms moved against her volition till hands were firmly clasped behind her back.

“Very good, very good Su Bayin.”

Yu Kunru’s voice had lost any sense of warmth. They instead pierced her skin as a slip of obsidian, sharpened to an infinitesimal point.

“The requirements of your task are simple. Kun Si requires instruction in language. They are ill-suited to the nature of society without it. You have a month’s time to resolve this issue, before the initiation of this year’s lower disciples. Only instruct her in the basics of verbalization and comprehension, anything else is beyond your ken. Please, succeed and reap your rewards.”

He waved her away and her feet followed his behest, each step taken without her own will.

“Goodbye, old friend Bayin.”

---

“Kun Si.”

Kun Si’s head snapped upward. A jolt spread through her body at the sound of her name. It was an entirely odd feeling, having a name to be called by. Not quite comfortable, every time she heard it she stood at rapt attention.

“Hello, Sister Bayin.”

The words came out stilted odd. She had known how words sounded, had an understanding of their meaning, but they didn’t feel comfortable in her mouth. They spilled out in a disordered jumble, an alternating stutter of too-fast and too-slow.

“I will not see you again, this is our last meeting.”

Kun Si nodded. She had heard similar words from her Master long ago. How long ago had it been? Time in the Wending, all those familiar sights. It was easy to get lost in that cozy sameness. She thought that she was a child when she met Master, and now she was told that she was perhaps in her late teens.

She didn’t really know what it meant, only that her body grew with the years.

“I hope you have gained enough from our time together to fit in with the other disciples.”

Kun Si nodded again.

“Thank you.”

She thought that she should thank Su Bayin, even if she would never see her again. Because her Master had told Kun Si that she would never see them again, but she had thanked them as well. It was only natural to thank when parting.

Bayin nodded and left the room, taking the thanks in stride.

Kun Si found herself thinking. Of Bayin’s short cropped hair, cut just beneath her earlobes. The way that the woman cupped her face when she was deep in thought. The way that her hands traced little images against the wall as Kun Si spoke to her. Her jade green eyes seemed to spiral off into infinity every so often.

The way that her Master’s hands spun dreams and stars.

Would she really never see them again?

---

Kun Yunru enjoyed initiation.

He was especially thrilled for this year’s initiation. It had been too long since a disciple had been found from the Wending, Kun San had died almost a hundred fifty years ago.

“This year’s batch of disciples looks especially eager.”

Several hundred bodies had stuffed themselves into the main courtyard of the Outer Kun sect, and found themselves jostling each other for position. Upon hearing Yunru’s voice, the gathering fell still and silent.

“I do not often share a great deal of words with you new initiates, since I feel economy of diction is important in instruction.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, and rose to his full and considerable height. Elevated as he was at the speaker’s podium, a fair amount of the students began to uncontrollably cower.

“There are many paths of cultivation, and many paths to immortality. Each person has their view of the Way, but there is a common thread where all interpretations converge.”

He paused, and idly scanned his eyes across the courtyard. Every person stood at attention except one. He found himself smiling as he saw Kun Si looking at the ground and picking at her robe.

“Some will say that the common thread is righteousness, but the common thread of each Way is power.”

A murmur.

“To that end, you are allowed to exercise your own personal power over the rest of your compatriots. You are allowed to compare your power against your Elders, if you so wish. You are even allowed to raise your power against me.”

He laughed, and his amusement grew as he saw the collected company shudder at the sound.

“But always remember, the doctrine of power applies universally. Never think you are exempt from it.”

Kun Yunru swept his way away from the stage, leaving behind the smell of chrysanthemums, mulberry, and a flight of butterflies. They danced in the air, a kaleidoscope of color, before fading as quickly as they had come.

“Long Meilin, give them an overview of the minutiae.”

---

Kun Si tilted her head as Kun Yunru left the podium and was soon replaced by a woman who stood even taller than he. She was almost as tall as Master, and height grabbed Si’s attention. Kun Si herself was quite tall, but she thought herself jealous of those that were taller than her. Even as the woman, Long Meilin, began to speak her words were drowned out by Kun Si’s envy. Meilin’s pure white robe was a strong contrast with Yunru’s pitch black. The two seemed two sides of a coin, Meilin’s black irises clashing against Yunru’s alabaster in Kun Si’s mind.

“...forgive the Sect Leader for his zealousness. He has a great amount of fun initiating the new disciples every year. I do not disbelieve economy of diction, but I believe that proper instruction requires more words than he is willing to give.”

Meilin brought a hand to her face in contemplation, its sharp and angular lines made it perhaps more a touch more handsome than beautiful.

“I am, to a degree, under the thrall of Kun Yunru’s power. But he is far too busy to attend to the miscellaneous affairs of the sect. Effectively you all are under my power first and foremost, as I have the attention to pay to your endeavors. To that end, understand that no killing will be allowed among outer sect disciples.”

As she spoke the words, a pall of tension lifted from the crowd. They must have been worried. About killing and dying. Kun Si was glad that some of their worries had been assuaged.

“Murder is the only behavior strictly forbidden, but maiming should be kept to a minimum. Truly excessive force will meet with similar punishment to murder.”

Meilin sighed.

“Finally, a small stipend of spirit stones will be handed out every week in this courtyard. Within the confines of this space no violence will be allowed. Your first lessons will be held tomorrow, gather here at dawn and you will receive your assignments. Anyone who misses initial assignment will have to fend for themselves, or beg for the allowance of one of the Elders. Your housing assignments will be given to you now.”

A cascade of bamboo slips erupted from behind Long Meilin, her waist length ivory hair billowed as they soared past. Settling for a moment above Meilin’s head in a whirling sphere, individual slips shot outward at blinding velocity before slowing and resting in the hands of their intended recipients. Kun Si reached out a hand and grabbed her slip from its intended arc, the wood struggling in her grasp for a moment before coming to a halt.

“You may go.”

Meilin’s leave triggered a swarm of humanity, near every disciple vying to be the first to leave the courtyard. Kun Si wondered what the hurry was. It didn’t seem to her there was much to be gained from haste, her room would be there when she deigned to return. Worming her way through this crowd seemed too much effort, so she let her legs drop from under her. It wasn’t long before she was the only person left besides Long Meilin. The woman stared intently at Kun Si, who stared placidly back. Meilin’s eyes weren’t as deep as Master’s, she thought. They were black, and deep, and dark. But they were not deep like Master’s.

Like the sea or the sky.

After several moments, Meilin seemed content with the level of attention she had spared Kun Si. She disappeared in a swirl of wind and rain, leaving Kun Si entirely alone. Studying the slip in her hand, Si did not manage to find the place she was staying. Instead she was met with a jumble of words that did not have any meaning to her.

Beneath the shadow of the twisted mulberry. Stand with the sun and walk fifty paces.

It didn’t really make any sense, but there was no longer anyone blocking her path so Kun Si decided to leave the courtyard. Sitting here didn’t make much sense either, she had spent a lot of time sitting in the past month. Sitting with Su Bayin. As she crossed the bounds of the courtyard, Si came upon streets bustling with activity. It seemed that each disciple had received a similar set of meaningless words.

Where light casts twelve shadows. Stand with the moon and walk thirty paces.

Where three forks converse. Stand with the Fifth Star and walk eighty paces.

Among others, those were the phrases she was able to pick out as nervous disciples milled about in confusion. The twisted mulberry. If it is was “the” twisted mulberry, there must be just one. Kun Si would find it eventually.

There was only so much space in the outer sect, after all.

She walked easily amidst the confused crowd. Uncertainty led to inaction, so it was easy to slice her way through her compatriots. She had been given several books and scrolls to chew through by Su Bayin, so Kun Si was quite sure she knew what a mulberry tree looked like. If anything, she was quite sure she knew what a mulberry looked like and hoped that there was no tree but a mulberry tree that grew mulberries.

As she ambled, Kun Si picked out certain disciples that she had liked looking at more than others and committed them to memory. A mousy girl, who though exceedingly timid-looking was almost as tall as she. Si was glad that this girl was not taller than her, she was fine with the Elders like Yunru and Meilin being so tall. She didn’t think it appropriate that a fellow disciple should be so tall though. A boy with his chest puffed out so far his back looked in danger of breaking, she wondered if she poked him too hard whether or not he would fall over. A crowd of adoring fellows seemed to swirl around him indefinitely, one admirer replaced by the next as each lost interest in turn. A short boy, perched upon a rooftop. She wondered how he had gotten all the way up there, but didn’t care to join him.

A flash of maroon.

She remembered. A mulberry pest.

The sharpshooter was that color.

Kun Si followed her glassy-winged compatriot, they were both searching for the same thing. She hoped that her new companion would not be stepped on by one of her cohorts. It seemed quite fast and beneath anyone else’s notice, so she had high hopes at least. The intrepid half-inch long explorer took the bulk of Kun Si’s focus, but she managed to pick out some amusing things in her periphery.

Two boys tumbling on the ground as a small crowd gathered around them.

A beautiful girl whose silks shone with all the colors of the rainbow.

And finally a twisted mulberry tree.

Should she call this fortune, or was this the only mulberry tree? She remembered Su Bayin’s words, how fortuitous. It was the first words she had heard since Master, so she had sought out their meaning in her first lessons. She thought this could be called fortune.

“Thank you.”

She said it in parting, as all partings demand, for the sharpshooter she had followed here was already nestled on the underside of a mulberry branch. They had found a home so perhaps she should take burdens to find hers as well.

Stand with the sun.

She looked at the sun overhead and maneuvered herself to stand near side-by-side with it. A path was illuminated, rays of light shining through mulberry leaves.

Walk fifty paces.

So she walked as was ordained. And Kun Si came upon what must be her home, for the next home was some thirty paces further along the path. A nondescript building, without even a door for privacy. She thought it large as she looked at it, but perhaps there would be others inside.

“You are the last.”

A clear, strong voice. It sounded like mornings, the feeling of a cock’s crow.

“Don’t mind the rest, I wonder why it took you so long to arrive though. You must have tarried. Our clue was the easiest.”

The rest? Kun Si found seven as she glanced across the entrance of her new home. Four disciples were strewn across the floor, blood pooling beneath them. She could smell it, taste it on her lips. Blood tasted like iron. It smelled like the earth. Two more kowtowed, daring not to raise their heads from the floor.

And the last smiled.

The one who smiled was perfectly beautiful. Like the word beautiful had sought to become a person, and decided upon this form. Tall, but not too tall. A face so picturesque it seemed almost uncanny. Crafted, rather than born. Bright full lips, chiseled personally some divinity.

And not a single drop of blood dirtied her person.

Kun Si’s perfectly beautiful housemate spoke again.

“Will you be agitator, or supplicant?”