David

In Ping'an, cultivators distinguished themselves from commoners by way of casual superhuman feats - jumping from street to street. The city was a network of canals which carried the memory of the rivers and streams they had once been. The cultivators didn't respect the city and it didn't respect them.

In Dongjing, cultivators were not distinguished from commoners. Those who had heard the Song of the world and lived in the City of A Hundred Schools did battle on rooftops by night. In every corner and cul-de-sac claiming community there was a chance you could meet a crouching tiger.

In Bei'an, cultivators and commoners alike were beholden to medicine, to trade, to Iron. They walked on different sides of the street, but both groups let the gloomy spires remind them that they were subject to things greater than them, to sects, to traffic, to history.

Depending on the way David thought of the city, Tianbei was either the working definition of paradise or the most boring city he and Alice had come across in their travels. Tianbei was conspicuously missing the resentment of Ping’an, the duplicity of Dongjing and the grime of Bei’an. But David also could not sense the resounding optimism, the manic storytelling or the somber pride of those respective cities.

The early afternoon sun shone down on the three peaks of Earth, Sky and Sword. The peaks were collectively Tianbei mountain, on which the Ascending Sky had been built.

The road bent and looped around the lion’s share of residences dotting the mountainside for the Outer Sect’s convenience. Beside the path, the shrubbery became dense and a treeline formed abruptly on either side of the light grey cobblestones. Just a stone’s throw from the road, the vegetation grew waist high.

"Feel that?" asked Alice, as the group of five retraced their steps towards the base of the peak, where the entrance to the inner sect and admissions office had been.

David did. The everpresent buzz of the Song was loud and aggressive, flowing and growing.

"The Ascending Sky's Earth Peak is known for its Yang Spirit Springs," said Feiyan. "It blooms lush and green even during the wintertime. My family likes to come here when it's not a cold year."

Qitai looked impressed. "Spirit springs are pretty rare. Usually anyone who finds one will call in favors from a formation master to ward off the area, so it's not discovered. Do you think they'll let us use them?"

There was a collective shrug.

They'd arrived at the fork on the road again. Earth Peak was to the north of the valley and Sword Peak rose beside it. To the east was Sky Peak. From this juncture of road, David had a panoramic view of the Sect and its city in all its glory.

The visible parts of Earth Peak looked like an overgrown university campus town - a story of nature encroaching on a village where some buildings were for utility, some were for aesthetics and none with their neighbors in mind. Evidence of more out-of-the-way structures peeked out from the sea of green that didn't touch the road.

Sword Peak drew the eye because of how stark it was by contrast. Like the mountain they'd been built on, the dwellings were sparse, tall and thin. They looked to be constructed of the pine trees which dotted the peak, as if a giant had stacked a street’s worth of log cabins onto a single neat pile. The towers rose five stories tall or higher - and in clusters that didn't look easily accessible. Some of them had taken on the frost of the mountain. Most of them listed in some direction.

Sky Peak was the most lively. In the distance, black-robed disciples moved in and out of squat compounds a shade brighter than the rocky brown ground. Some disciples were travelling in leisurely groups. Others carried loads twice their size and probably many times their weight from one destination to another.

But the uninspiring architecture and frenzied activity of hundreds of disciples weren't the reason why the group of five had stopped moving - each of them staring open-mouthed at Sky Peak.

The Skyforge was not, as David had assumed, a mystical furnace buried beneath the Peak. It was Sky Peak, sitting proudly under the cold open air of Tianbei Valley. The Skyforge was- were pools and pools and pools of bright red lava sitting on the surface of Sky Peak. Judging from the size of the disciples in the distance, not a single one was smaller than a city block.

Those disciples were dumping their cargo directly into the lava. After a few moments, David realized that the pools of lava weren’t arranged by random chance. Around a central, circle lake, the pools spread out in eight directions, arranged in sets of three. The bagua, the eight trigrams.

"They're Forging," whispered Feiyan. "It's unlikely, but we might witness the creation of a weapon that can leave the world.”

Works we made must leave the world, chain our fates, David almost said aloud. The words didn’t stay for long in his mind, slipping away like water through a sieve, but David knew that they must have been there. He didn’t really mind - those words had been loaned to him, in desperation, by the light of the moon on an old road and he had returned them already. In all honesty, he was surprised he could reproduce any of the words at all.

David was pulled from his thoughts by a brilliant flash of golden light that seemed to linger on the surface of the world for longer than it should have. All across Tianbei Valley, the bells perched on those tall, concrete towers began to ring - but not with the cheerful din that marked the passage of time. From the currents of the Song in the air, sword and proud and cut and resolute and sever and deliberate and Sword, the person playing the bells could only have been Fairy Guan.

From miles away, David could confirm something Shi had mentioned offhandedly to them - the pools had changed from blood orange to molten gold.

The sudden sound of rushing water groaned and twisted and flooded out from beneath their feet, in harmony with the bells.

"I've heard this before," said Kanhu, excited. "On New Year's Day, all ten thousand disciples of the Still Waters perform the first form of the Wave Dancing Scripture at dawn and this is all you can hear, on every single island in Minghai.

"Ten thousand? Are there that many disciples in the Ascending Sky as well?" Alice shouted over the wall of sound.

Kanhu shook his head. "The Still Waters has more disciples than any five of the other Great Sects!" he shouted back, right beside her.

As they spoke, a third sound joined bells and rushing water - a piercing clink, a hammer hitting an anvil. It was a determined sound, if mournful, and also Principled.

"Witness the might of the Middle Continent," Feiyan shouted at Kanhu, who gave her a cursory scoff.

David and Alice exchanged glances.

There was something wrong. There was something else in the air - David was sure he knew what it was and that he'd heard it before.

Alice was shaking her head. "It's not exactly out of tune," she muttered into his ear, in English. "I'm only thinking of that because of the story you told about your piano recital. Something is clashing."

David's lips formed word after word - in English, in Chinese, in gibberish syllabic sounds - matching them against the rhythmic clinking of the anvil, until he happened upon the ones that fit. "Castaway, dive," he started, in Chinese. "bind the-"

He realized he was also shaking his head now. "It's not going to work," he said, into Alice's neck. The rumbling from within Earth Peak grew in volume - no, not from Earth Peak, from the skies which were still stubbornly clear.

The bells grew more frenetic, but that only made it worse. Something like exasperation or impatience was obvious in performances even to those who weren't musicians. By now, their three companions had put the changes in sound and the Song together with David and Alice's shared displeasure. Feiyan's shoulders slumped.

The bells ceased abruptly, and a few seconds later, the sound of rushing water also stopped.

"Unlucky," said Kanhu.

The anvil continued for another set of careful, measured clinks, before that stopped too.

“The sky is long and the road is far. My spirit flies, embittered. Its dreams do not pass the mountain,” said David.

They continued down the mountain path with heavier hearts and no more words. As they walked, Alice tapped out the rhythm of the clinking anvil into David’s palm.

Before long, they were passing the gate that was the entrance to Earth Peak’s inner sect. The same disciple was still guarding the door, but there were no more parents and children gathered in front. He was reading a pamphlet of some sort, printed on off-white bamboo paper, and chuckling to himself. The disciple waved at them.

“Why do you all look so down?” he called out with a smile. He paused for an answer, then figured it out. “Oh right, that must have been the first Forging you’ve seen. They’re usually unsuccessful,” he said.

“Usually unsuccessful?” asked David, as they stepped off the mountain path.

The disciple nodded. “It happens a few times a year. This attempt was probably a little more special than most, because usually Earth and Sword don’t join in on the chorus together. If I had to guess from watching it, they didn’t light the forge hot enough.”

“How would you go about lighting it hotter?” asked Alice.

The disciple looked from one eager face to another. “New disciples are always so excited about the forge,” he said, looking slightly annoyed. “The Skyforge is a formation that draws in the qi of the world to heat its earthly fire - but even though the latent qi on Sky Peak is incredibly dense, that’s not enough. Spirit stones and coal are dumped into the forge to start it - and then in some cases, like today, we generate qi from other peaks so there’s something to burn.”

“So the qi was being drained quicker than it was being created by the bells, leading the Peak Master to play the bells faster, but it still wasn’t fast enough, and so she knew she failed,” reasoned Alice.

“That’s how I interpreted it,” said the disciple. “If you’re interested, you can ask someone from Sky Peak after your initiation. They’re always looking for more heads to help out - it’s a good way to earn spirit stones, or even merits, if the work is more difficult. There’s tough competition for odd jobs at Sky Peak, though. Bit hard to get merits as an Outer Disciple.”

“Merits?” asked Kanhu.

The disciple nodded. “If you do something for the sect, the sect does something for you. You can trade in merits for cultivation materials or artifacts at the Treasure Pavilion.”

“You have to prove that you’ve been useful to the sect in order to get something decent?” asked Qitai, frowning.

The disciple shook his head. “You can buy most things at the pavilion for spirit stones. Pavilion Master Xi’s a born scammer - don’t tell anyone I said that - so nothing’s really competitively priced. I don’t think any of you would be able to afford anything actually worthwhile.”

Feiyan pushed a glossy strand of hair out of her face. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”

The disciple frowned at her, then remembered that Feiyan had introduced herself as a princess of the current imperial line. “Most outer disciples wouldn’t be able to afford anything,” he amended. “But if you have spirit stones to spare, you should consider one of the many paid classes taught by your new fellow disciples - and not just about cultivation.”

“Does senior brother have any suggestions?” asked Feiyan, smiling sweetly at the guard.

“I suggest you figure it out after the initiation rites,” he said, returning the smile. “I’ve not taken a class like that since I’ve been an outer disciple myself. After forming your core, further steps in cultivation are significantly more dangerous - there isn’t much time for anything that isn’t directly related to advancement.”

David stared at the papers the man held in his hands pointedly. The page he’d been reading appeared to be a collection of rude jokes. “Right.”

The man coughed lightly and folded the papers together. “Do any of you have more questions for me?”

“Are there any restaurants you can recommend to us? Preferably a place with good tea?” asked Qitai.

The man shrugged. “I haven’t had a meal in a few years, at least. Most of the restaurants and shops that aren’t often frequented by cultivators are in that direction,” he said, pointing south and west. “The Ascending Sky is well liked in Tianbei. Keep it that way,” he said seriously.

After a handful of scattered farewells, the group began making their way into the city. From the Skybound Path, the Ascending Sky’s three peaks held a total dominion over any traveler’s field of view.

When the disciple was out of earshot, Feiyan spoke up. “I can’t believe how rude that man was. He didn’t even remember me!”

“Maybe he only had room in his head for ten princesses,” said Alice, who seemed to take the quiver of Feiyan’s upper lip as victory.