002: A series of concessions

Sān Chājǐ scanned his memories for all the knowledge he had on a cloud mountain banshee. He grimaced as he found startling little. The sounds of fighting urged him into combat and he ran forward. The air around him rippled like water as he surged forward.

The banshee kept its belly close to the deck of the cloudship instinctively protecting the weakpoint that Sān Chājǐ knew was right there. Its naturally hard carapace weak at the point where its oddly placed mouth was.

A problem but not one without a solution.

Sān Chājǐ dodged left as the banshees wings slammed into the deck where he had previously stood. The wings curled in on themselves in a whirling motion that would have left anyone unfortunate enough to be caught within eviscerated by the serrated chitin blades of the wing.

Another horizontal sweep of the wings left Sān Chājǐ leaning backwards. The wings flew past above him as he stabbed his sword into the deck. A burst of qi surged down into his sword increasing its friction a prodigious amount. Allowing him to pull on his sword to swiftly stand upright again.

"Combat amongst equals is a series of concessions. Mastery is found not in the avoidance of attacks but in allowance of the right blows.

The voice of his master rang from within his mind as he saw the next attack come flying at him. He strengthened his sword arm, flooding it with qi and met the wing head on. The force of blow sent him staggering.

He became water.

And flowed with the current letting the force drag him into the deck of the wood. His accumulated forward momentum sent him sliding underneath the banshee.

And he stabbed.

His sword sank deeply into the flesh of the beast without any resistance. Twisting his sword around made the banshee roar in anguish.

It was music to his ears.

He flooded the beast with qi using his sword as a link. Liquified organs and meat exploded down the hilt of his sword spilling onto him. The beast stilled and with an explosion of qi enhanced strength he sent it tumbling away to the side.

Jumping up to his feet, he pirouetted on the tip of his toes. His back against the corpse of the banshee, shielding him from any attacks from the back.

A quick scan of his surroundings had him breathing in relief. All immediate banshees had been dealt with by his fellow disciples. Around him outer disciples saluted him in gratitude.

Sān Chājǐ returned the gesture before searching the deck for his senior brother.

At the bow, Feng Chao stood with the Elders gazing up. Continuous sweeps of spiritual sense flooded outwards from the group. Far a head of them hovered a horde of banshees. A buzzing cloud of gnashing jaws and snapping pincers. Frenzied like nothing Sān Chājǐ had ever seen before.

The amount of banshees was staggering, entire nests worth flying together. The streams of qi from the bow of the cloudship became visible in the air, condensed into what appeared to be water vapor that flew probingly outwards.

Sān Chājǐ sent a small wave of qi out from his rapidly depleting core down his sword. The pungent blood that covered it from tip to hilt evaporated as it came in contact with his qi. Leaving his sword spotless. Sheathing it, he joined his senior brother at the bow.

Moments passed as he attempted to see what had captured the group's interest. It was only when he closed his mortal senses and opened his spiritual sense that he saw it clear as the day. There in the sky above them was a titanic gathering of qi in the form of a vortex. Shining behind a brilliant corona that was brighter than the sun.

The amount of qi staggered him. He was unable to even conceptualize the amount. And every time he sent a tendril of awareness toward the anomaly, it evaporated long before he reached its corona.

That was why he couldn't sense it before. It was too overpowering to his senses.

He realized then that that was why the banshees had left their clouds behind. Like moths to the flame they had sought the gathering of qi and now they danced around it drunk on qi.

There was more qi in front of him than in the capital city of the Empire.

"Impossible."

Sān Chājǐ would have called the man who spoke blind if it weren't for the fact that it was Elder Fubei Fan. Calling him blind would be like a newly born infant calling the a celestial sage an idiot.

It would also be his last words.

The Elder responsible for the cloudship. An elder held in such high regard by his master that he and his senior brother had been entrusted to his care.

"There is more qi there - than is being drawn in from around us." Elder Fubei Fan whispered, the world itself quieting in order for his words to be audible.

Elder Song Yui interjected, "The qi is beyond this world." he spoke awed. "Look the Qi is coming from elsewhere."

Sān Chājǐ focused his senses and saw nothing. He took a deep breath and exhaled, centering himself as he tried again and again until his eyes hurt despite being closed.

He saw it.

A small tear in the fabric of reality and through it extremely dense qi poured into the world. Sān Chājǐ had never experienced qi of this quality before and here it was being served like street hawkfood.

"Elders," Feng Chao interrupted them from their stupefied stupor, pointing starboard. "Another cloudship in the distance."

Elder Song Yui nodded somberly. "Not only the Banshees are drawn here. Notify the ship, we will fight until the last drop of blood. Everyone will contribute. Allowing another sect to obtain this opportunity is the same as signing our own sect's death warrant."

Elder Fubei Fan took out a jade slip from his spatial ring and shattered it. "Spare no expense. The Sect has been notified." He inhaled the pristine refreshing mountain air, and exhaled deeply, "This is a fine day to die on."

Sān Chājǐ felt the thrum of qi followed by the smell of ozone and smoke. He paled. Elder Fubei Fan was burning his lifeforce.

"No expense spared." Elder Fubei Fan whispered again with zealous conviction, qi channeling his voice to the wind, carrying it to everyone on the cloudship.

Sān Chājǐ looked at his senior brother questioningly.

Feng Cao nodded approvingly at the Elder, "If you die, junior brother - your lifeforce better be wilted and spent to the last ember."

His senior brother's voice was sanity to his ears. Here he was worried that he would have to burn it pre-emptively like the Elder before him.

_Decisiveness is the foundation of a cultivators pysche. Conviction is the wellspring of life and doubt - the death of cultivators.

The memory came out of nowhere. Sān Chājǐ remembered his master repeating it countless times. Now he understood it. He looked at the back of Elder Fuebei Fan with respect.

He narrowed his eyes determinedly. His sect was his family. His mortal family long since dead. Death came for them all. Dying for the sake of family? A luxury few cultivators would experience.

If it came to it. He would die valiantly for the glory of the sect that had given him everything he had. That had made him into what he was. That had risen him from the mud at the bottom of the lake to the sunkissed frothing waves at the top.

Sān Chājǐ l glanced at the disciples on the deck. Most of them were in the foundation establishment stage. They would die like grass before the scythe.

He knew it. They knew it. Yet they stood tall in the wind. Defiant.

They stood like cultivators.

They would die like mortals.