David

David understood two important things after the immortal had asked the question of what Wen prayed for.

Firstly, by whatever the ways and means she'd heard Wen swear in the name of his ancestors, on the stars and on the Empress Ascendant, it didn't provide her with the contents of what he'd asked for, even if she was firmly aware of the targets of his oath.

Secondly, for all her ranting and raving about how this was a lower realm not worthy of her attention, she seemed to know quite a lot about it. Either she'd gotten this information from her possession of Daoist Bo, or there was some register of information about Wen which led her to the conclusions she'd arrived at.

It seemed that Wen, too, had figured out that it would probably not be wise to tell his honored ancestor that he'd been trying to get David to stop ignoring him.

"I pray for many things," said Wen, miserable. "But nothing ever seems to turn out like I expect."

It seemed that Wen had roughly the same reading on his honored ancestor's character as David had. Unlike Uncle Jiang, this immortal seemed morose and listless, proud and easy to offend. Dare he say it? Childish, even.

It was a marked departure from Uncle Jiang, who seemed to be an eminently reasonable human being, despite also being an immortal. David would go as far as to argue that even Fairy Guan, who was notably not an immortal, acted more like a being of infinite age and wisdom than Wen's ancestor.

"Existence is an endless chain of unfairness, little disciple," she said.

David had seen true fear and shock on Wen's face, and he'd seen true frustration, so he knew that Wen was simply plying his ancestor's grim outlook on reality to get her to be more sympathetic to him.

Unfortunately, that turned the immortal's attention back onto David. "You have not truly answered my questions. Why are you here? You claim kinship with this child, and you wear the body of a child yourself. You know things that you shouldn't." She pushed her bangs out of her eyes - a habit that was distinctively not Daoist Bo.

David was still unsure how to answer the questions she'd posed before, but honesty was almost certainly not the best policy here.

Luckily, she didn't really give him a chance to answer. "You claimed that I should know of your works, that you've left the Court because you've lost favor with the one who sits upon Heaven over Heaven. You bear the scars of retribution. And this lower realm, this is a lower realm of no small notoriety."

If this was a lower realm of notoriety, was that why she'd known the lore of one of its great sects?

A peculiar look flittered onto her face. "And you recited that little poem about beans that your ilk are so fond of. You stink of mulberries.”

She seemed to believe that she’d said something exceedingly clever. “Now, would you say a farmer experiences more success in a greenhouse or in a field?"

David sensed this was an incredibly important question. "I don't do much farming," he said, as honestly as he could.

She nodded, as if that meant something. She took a deep breath and the sound of her Song rose with intensity and depth, contained, encircled. Was she preparing to fight? "Heaven sends friendly faces in the most barren fields."

She looked at him expectantly and smiled.

What did she expect from him?

David pondered the question unasked and came up with an answer. Some seeds don't need much watering.

But when he opened his mouth, he caught the timbre of the sound of her Song and different words left his lips. "Heaven purifies the waters in the deepest gorges."

The sound of thunder echoed in the distance, but David wasn't sure if it was the rumble of thousands of people jumping on a stadium floor, or if he'd said something he disagreed with so deeply he couldn't stop the blood from pounding in his ears.

“Is that a threat?”

Her face darkened. David knew why - he'd been warned many times - he'd reached for her Principle instinctively. And he'd used it to say something that he knew was untrue.

"Who are you to repeat our sacred words back to me? What have we done to deserve this?" she whispered, tears of rage forming in the corners of her eyes. “Why are you investigating my House?”

The sound of her Song screamed from her, her hands were clenched into fists, her fists shook.

"We forged the iron in our blood and held our hearts loyal rather than raising our mirrors to the sky. We cast our sons," she spat, pointing at Wen, "through the waves into the deepest caverns before their eyes could ever see their birthright - the stars of their homeland. Have we not done enough for she who Weaves?"

She turned her face to the sky. “My father will hear about this - within the decade, know this to be true,” she growled. “I was still a mortal girl when your side and mine rose up to challenge the Thunder.”

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David said nothing, because he knew nothing of the things she spoke about. He hoped there wouldn’t be some kind of fight.

“Perhaps we might still raise our swords towards the clouds,” she said with a sneer.

What had Senior Sister Hong Fanyi, the inheriting disciple of Earth Peak, said to David? Whatever you do, don’t start a war.

“We are not enemies today,” said David.

“It seems like you and yours are doing your very best to change that,” spat the immortal. She turned back to Wen. “You were right to call for me, dearest disciple. This is an important development, fully worth my time.”

She leaned forward and straightened the collar on Wen’s sect robe. “You mustn’t let anyone bully you, no matter how powerful they seem to be. Know that as long as our stars remain in the sky, there will be water for you to draw.”

Bo’s body straightened suddenly and her eyes closed. A bubble of blood formed at the corner of her lips and she sprawled forward.

Wen arms darted upwards, catching her by the shoulders.

Her eyes cracked open. “Unexpected,” she gasped, pulling in air and the Song. “That was a very particular feeling. I don’t think I liked it very much.”

“Master Bo?” Wen queried. “Are you alright?”

She was now looking at David. “You are not who she believed you were, but more well-read than I expected,” she decided.

David shook his head. There was a touch of relief on Bo’s face.

“There were two mistakes made here,” said Bo, heavily. “The first was a small one.” She turned back to Wen. “I don’t think I’ll need to say this, but I’m the sort of girl who loves the sound of her own voice. You shouldn’t swear to the heavens unless you’re okay with the heavens responding.”

She sagged in Wen’s arms, her red silks swirling about her. “Master!” Wen shouted. Her eyes were closed. “We need to get back to the sect,” he said to David, alarmed.

Wen scooped her up and they began to run in the direction they’d come from. It had taken them nearly an hour to walk leisurely around the edge of the lake, but at a full run, they made it back to the entrance of Three Worships Hall in merely minutes.

The hidden door slid open easily with the sound of Wen’s Song. The atrium was still fully lit, but it was nearly entirely silent. The only person in the room with hundreds of chairs was a girl who sat on the central altar staring at the wall, kicking her legs back and forth and singing a song.

“I am woe, woe is me. Everyone loves Liu Na. No one cares about Shishi!”

She spun around as they entered and immediately hopped off of the altar.

“Shishi!” Wen cried out.

This was the girl who’d been left behind in the sect to weigh flowers earlier. It seemed she was the only person who hadn’t gone to the concert.

“I didn’t do it!” she shouted back. “Whatever it was!”

Shishi froze. Then David heard the sound of the Song rise from her, heard the rush of meridians igniting, the whirl of her core in rotation. “What did the two of you do to Master Bo?” she said softly, death in her voice. Her voice echoed through the empty atrium.

“Not their fault,” croaked Daoist Bo. “Help me over to the altar, disciple,” she said, tugging at Wen’s sleeve.

Shishi’s song subsided as quickly as it had come, and she was instantly by their side. Her face was the picture of concern.

Wen carried her over to the altar symbolizing Karma and put her down gently in front of the rectangular block of polished stone.

“Onto the altar,” said Shishi. Before Wen could correct his mistake, the girl lifted Daoist Bo herself, sitting Bo cross-legged onto the stone.

“Shishi, I would like some milk of poppy, and huanglian flowers,” said Bo. She retched, but the trail from her lips wasn’t the brackish, blackened blood like the bead that formed when the immortal had left her body. Instead, she expelled a mouthful of clear fluid with the slightest red tinge. “There is a rupture in one of my meridians.”

Shishi immediately dashed through the doorway behind the altar. Wen looked incredibly alarmed.

“This is less serious than it sounds,” said Bo. She looked at David for a moment, as if she were weighing him up, then turned back to Wen. “To get back to what I was saying earlier, there was a second, larger mistake.”

Wen nodded.

“And I admit, it was on my end. It is said that it takes two hands to clap. One of these hands spoke in a foolish manner, and the other one answered the door.”

“Answered the door?” asked Wen.

Bo grimaced, either in pain or in consternation. “After you Ignite, and you are met with lightning, you will often hear the curiosities that whisper from the stars above. Sometimes, you’ll have the attention of an Immortal.”

Wen looked horrified, but David expected it was because he didn’t want to see his Honored Ancestor again more than anything else.

“Most immortals believe in some kind of exchange, if only to still the debts of karma that might arise,” said Bo. “You don’t have to be quite as concerned as you look.” Her voice became rather small. “When I noticed the strands that pierced the sky as you made your oath, I followed them,” said Bo.

“Followed?” echoed David.

Bo shook her head firmly. “How it was done is not for your ears, or even my students,” she said. “Not yet.” She turned back to Wen. “When I had done so, I heard her voice.”

“My ancestor’s,” said Wen.

Bo nodded. “She said she would leave me with some important questions if I were to invite her into the realm.”

David thought of the way Bo’s smile had widened further and further, ecstatic, triumphant, and, in a way, deranged - before she’d spoken for the first time as the Immortal.

“You must understand,” said Shishi. David hadn’t noticed her return. “Your master,” she said, to Wen, “has been seeking Principle for the longest time. She deserves no blame.”

It was David who spoke. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked Bo.

Bo took the cup that Shishi had offered her and gave it a sip, then threw it back with a long gulp. Then, she pushed herself off the altar and spat out a flower petal. “My master,” she said, pointing downwards. “Has been recording behind closed doors for many years. I told her, before she started, that there would be an Earthly Tribulation in this century. Today, I will go to the summit of Song Mountain and open my Heart.”

David heard the sound of her Song, spinning, humming, buzzing, flying.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“The three of you should go to the concert. It will not be safe, even in Three Worships Hall, soon enough. I believe I will receive more than just censure from the skies above.”

“Censure?”

Bo shook her head. “Ask your Peak Masters when you return to your sect.” She tapped his cheek. “You’re bright, but you’re not one of mine.”