Guan Meiyan

Those who did not cultivate often told stories about those who did. They wove elaborate plots of those who belonged to great and lesser sects for entertainment. They speculated on the nature of cultivation and cultivators as a common hobby.

It was a harmless habit, mostly, until it wasn't. Most of the cities and towns in the Middle Continent had no sect and no cultivators, so there existed those who made a living going from town to town selling trinkets and curios that purportedly belonged to cultivators. There was always some sucker who could be convinced to part ways with their hard earned silver.

Those who did cultivate often told stories about those who were better at the craft. They wove elaborate plots about those who belonged to forgotten Starfields and higher realms for entertainment. They speculated on the secrets and scriptures discovered by those great men and women whose names were heard across the many worlds.

A common topic of discussion was the Celestial Venerate. A step past the lofty goal of immortality, the footprint of a venerate's works echoed in places high and low. A venerate represented all which could not be known with cultivation, the depths of a mountain yet to be mined.

Fairy Guan stared at that little slip of paper not with respect, but disdain. To an audience of impressionable disciples, someone as trustworthy as Pavilion Master Xi of the Ascending Sky would not be the sort to fool them, and claim a talisman he was selling would be anything but authentic. To Fairy Guan, someone as trustworthy as Pavilion Master Xi of the Ascending Sky would definitely attempt to fleece fools of their hard earned spirit stones.

Could this talisman have been the creation of a Venerate? There was no proof that it wasn't - but what was more likely - that the pavilion master of a sect in a lower realm would be publically auctioning off a venerate's talisman or yet another attempt at grift?

The utter boredom from her fellow Peak Masters told Fairy Guan they had come up with the same answer to her unspoken question.

“Starting price of five hundred spirit stones.”

By now, there were two things that everyone must have noticed - the complete lack of interest from Sect Master Su, who had already proven he was willing to snatch, from his own disciples no less, items of dubious value, and the abject despair on the face of the disciple of the Ascending Sky sitting beside the Zhu princess.

“A glorious piece of history, without a doubt. The Zhu family will pay a price of five hundred spirit stones for such a talisman!”

Disciple Zhu, the princess who did belong to the Ascending Sky and not the Emperor’s Paper Flowers, opened and closed her mouth in protest. Fairy Guan could make out the words repeated wordlessly as bright and clear as day. It’s mine. It’s mine. It’s mine.

More telling was the placid smile the Zhu princess placed on her sister and her hard eyes.

Well, Fairy Guan had already failed one of her students, she wasn’t about to fail another - not for someone as small as the Emperor.

“My condolences, Fifth Princess,” Fairy Guan heard herself say. “My former teacher, the Widow - she was quite fond of trinkets and curios and the esoteric. And she did consider herself an expert in talismans. When I was a young girl and she was still alive, I was not the best behaved of disciples. Six hundred spirit stones.”

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“Peak Master Guan!” exclaimed the Fifth Princess, who looked rather confused. “Surely someone of your cultivation would not need this sort of antique.”

Fairy Guan pursed her lips. “Zhu Louli. If I recall correctly, we are of the same generation.”

The Fifth Princess nodded uncertainly.

“But we do not happen to be of the same standard of cultivation. Who are you to question me on what I would or would not need in my cultivation?”

There was a chuckle from her left - Peak Master Feng, without a doubt. Fairy Guan did not turn. Instead, she kept her gaze calmly driven onto Disciple Zhu to let the girl, and the world, know why the Sword of Sword Peak was buying this talisman.

The Fifth Princess, Zhu Louli, did not further contest her purchase, but anyone could see the woman’s animal anger in the way she moved her hands and the way she glared at nothing in particular. She could not, and would not, express anger at the hosts of this gathering in plain sight - but she was also a princess, who was unaccustomed to having things not go her way.

“It is time to ring the bells,” said Fairy Guan, cutting off Pavilion Master Xi, after the auction was called in her favor. She ascended upwards and outwards, at the ceiling, at the sky. She would wait for sunrise in the tower.

The Sword Fairy

The Sword, she stared at her city and began to speak.

On the eastern edge of the Middle Continent was the Eastern Sea and a thousand li to its west was Tianbei, mountain and valley. The highest peak of Tianbei was Sword Peak, known for its heart of stone and uncompromising values.

At the pinnacle of Sword Peak stood its tallest tower - not carved from pine, but raised in mud and stone by the virtuous sons and daughters of the migrants who flew from the deep mines to the west, the cultivators who raised the bell towers in the valleys below. This tower had been known by many names, but when it was built, it was named Birdsong.

Birdsong had one room, at its apex - a room with neither windows nor doors and, in truth, less walls than most. Its ceiling was a pointed dome, held up by seven thin walls of tempered steel, each the width of a man. But it was this way because even though it resembled a bird cage, it would always remind whoever rang the bells that they could always instead fly.

Gaps of open air many times wider than the wiring of this cage sat between its bars, exposing the room to the wintry mountain air high above the sea. On most nights, only the tops of clouds could be seen from Birdsong, but this morning, the skies were clear and bright.

The Sword, she stared at her city through the gap to the southeast and spoke.

She began to recite the verses of the Skybound Scripture, which had been passed down by the Line of the Bells through two hundred and fifty seven masters to the Sword, who was the final disciple.

“Open the door and walk the plains, by light of sun and moon - make them your own.”

The floor of the room in Birdsong was not whole. At its center, consuming most of the space within, was a precisely cut hole - not a circle, an octagon. It was a reminder of those deep mines from which those first birds flew.

The Sword, she paced delicately along the edges of the octagon. There wasn’t even space to stand with her feet together and she swayed in the wind. With each step, another verse emerged from her lips.

“Time is coincidence and worth is innate. Strip the chains of fate and rewrite your history.”

The bells across Tianbei began to ring in unison.

And then, for the first time in nearly four thousand years, the morning bells of Tianbei stopped.

The Fairy, she drew her Sword and flew from Birdsong.

In a caravan headed west, a caged bird offered her neck to a blade.

The Fairy, she parried the blow and that blade made a keening wail and splintered when it met her Sword.

The Sword spoke, her voice firm and uncaring. “Outer disciples are not permitted to leave the city of Tianbei before they should form their Cores.”