Zhang Cai bored over the proposed plan while delving deeper into the cave. Spiritual Link led him through a series of hidden pathways he could not grasp with his Qi sense. No matter the strain, nor the depth, his Qi failed to penetrate the magic within the walls.

Perhaps from the surrounding sea, air dampened to a point he felt sweaty. Each step was uncomfortable. Loud thuds sometimes echoed through the passage; and very few times, three he counted, there would be a massive exhale coming outside the walls. It was like a wail.

After a while he could not bear the silence. ''Are those the xian's roars?''

''Could be.''

''...is there anything else that can make that sound?''

''The strait is wide and long, bordering Li and Shu. Not that we have witnessed one, but a Rocksmote pinnacle beast of the depths could do such sounds.''

''Pinnacle?'' The sect text he had did not mention such a prefix. There was just Rocksmote, then Threshold with its thirteen stages of progression. But he thought himself wrong, for some reason, as a memory popped in his head. Perhaps that was the case for his own manual.

''Senior does know of his cultivation, yes? Though one step it might be between Glassmade and Threshold, there is bound to be realms of progression to the stage itself. Your own Qi is testament to that—were you not such a fresh ascendant, there would be no need to drown Long Kongzi.''

''What would be the other option?'' There was a chance, were things not the way they were after Il-ich, that he could break through Rocksmote so much more earlier. They knew it too, it seemed.

''It is a future unrelated, though I shall act on my own to tell you of it.'' the scar between his eyebrows twitched and bled. ''...Your two arts would have been further improved, perhaps aided by a certain Li of middle-Threshold realms due events left unsaid. That would have allowed Long Kongzi to be battered, for he himself is a fresh ascendant, at most a few months earlier than you.''

Events left unsaid, by a certain Li. The mention of the realm brought up Li Bo and Huan's father, for even in distress and confusion he sensed the man far above him. He nodded, and they walked for some more in silence until the question nagging him pried open his mouth.

''Will the island survive?''

''It could.''

''What if it does not?'' He asked again. ''Where will you folks go?''

''Wherever our Lord decrees.''

''Will he do so?''

That, Spiritual Link didn't answer. As if a sign, a light flashed past their eyes and Zhang Cai found himself inside a fresh smelling crevice. There was a pond in the center, with aquamarine nine-leaved lotuses surrounding it. An intense wave of water-attuned Qi shot out of their whole being. Was this attunement the reason he could sense them despite the magic walls, or something else?

''What are they?''

''Blessed Lotuses. Our Lord grafted them with his holy powers and nine-petal water lotuses for the purpose of merging the island with the sea.''

Holy power.

Zhang Cai took note of that word, then walked to stand next to Spiritual Link. ''The barrier comes from them, doesn't it?''

''Yes.''

The pond quaked, although so miniscule in impact he very well might not have seen it if he wasn't this close. Something sucked the Qi out of the roots and vanished. ''They don't seem like they'll live that long.''

''Long Kongzi's breath shortens their lifespan. The ice barrier, although he might not have intended it, cut off most of the roots from the sea. They have no way to replenish—they can only wither and wait for their demise.''

''For how long?''

''...around a month...''Spiritual Link muttered. A moment later the scar between his eyebrows twitched, and he replied again. ''Twenty days.''

Someone answered for him.

''Then let's get this done quick.'' Zhang Cai said. ''Your friends will need to get used to their new cultivation if they want to survive.''

He experienced first hand how disorienting a leap in cultivation was for the five senses as a whole. Fortunately for him, he had a lot of time before fighting Long Kongzi over the seas to be familiar with his body.

''As you wish, senior.'' Spiritual Link answered. ''Follow me.''

Together they walked into the chilly pond and stood beside the swarm of lotuses. Glittering petals shivered, curled up, but when Spiritual Link exhaled on them they stopped their attempts and stood loose.

''They are alive?''

''Everything has a life.'' Spiritual Link stood up straight and closed his eyes. The bloody scar twisted, trembled, then his eyes opened again. ''Take one petal, swallow it. You can lay down, stand up, or even swim if you wish so. But do act as if you are cultivating, and think of what you want.''

''The rest, my Lord will take care.''

Zhang Cai obliged with a sliver of doubt. He got on one knee, grasped a petal, smelled it, then plucked—and when he did the lotuses shivered. They seemed hurt.

''I'm sorry.''

He put the leaf in his mouth, then let himself fall back into the pond. Submerged all the way to his chin, Zhang Cai found his body cooling down. As if there was a hidden fire in him burning, and he was not aware of it all the time, and now something traveled up his meridians and doused all the frenzy it had.

''I want to see my master.''

He had become empty. In his dantian, he started pulling.

One pull became ten, and ten became a hundred. Four times faster he pulled than his usual pace, and still he found himself hungry for more. A thousand pulls he did, and at the thousand and eighth pull something clicked.

Prying open his eyes, Zhang Cai saw a single drop of blood floating above his glabella. Unlike any other blood, neither red or green or blue, so dark that the night sky would pale in comparison, and with such dark intent no evil could compete with it, this single droplet showcased a might unbelievable to his common sense.

With a single step he rose, and the droplet rose with him. Standing on the surface of water, Zhang Cai found two words resonating in his mind.

PATH LONG

They kept battering inside his mind, slamming the edges of his consciousness until he felt like his head would explode. Perhaps it lasted a second, or an entire lifetime, but when it came to an end Zhang Cai remembered nothing of it except a warm feeling on his back.

He had received a message.

*********

Spiritual Link acted quick. He took a hold of the blood and showed him an empty hole among the other dwellings for him to rest. Rest indeed he did, though he did not sleep, and kept his sword by his side at all times to be drawn. Hours later Spiritual Link returned with an entourage of five, all fourth-step Glassmade Qi, and requested him to help them adjust.

Though, quoting their words, they had no reason nor will of their own, the demonics still had to work hard for their cultivation. He saw them breath the same way he did, if not different by small things like the sitting position and a few off-seconds that could be adjusted. He pondered a little, and then pointed out what he found lacking.

That seemed to spark the demonics in a way he hadn't seen before, and now more zealous they cultivated before him. Then he had them stand up, imitating Li Bo's stern tone, and had them run around the island with him. He had them fight with each other, fight with him, and even take attacks of his in full brunt to be better prepared for the Xian's own claws. He doubted they could withstand—his non-enchanted fist shot the poor demonics dozens of meters away.

To his relief, they healed quickly. They seemed to be little immortals, high regeneration and slow cultivation. The Spiritual Link himself joined not much after. Zhang Cai gave him a few instructions as well, though he had an inkling the man knew himself, and left to practice his own arts.

The water lotus was the first one he learned, for it had no theory behind its creation. It was the same as setting up a barrier, which did not come intentionally unless he ordered his qi, and was the same as raising arms in alarm at a sudden strike. It occured with instinct. Water lotus made use of it, placing layers of barriers, conscious of their weight, upon each other until their durability multiplied.

The other he had left, for it required him to know of force. Force in this context was a tool of the world, a law, and the most basic explanation he understood was that any motion produced force. The art used the re-direction of his kinetic or Spiritual force, Qi, to bypass the physical shell, hitting the consciousness and the inner organs of the desired target. How to do so eluded him—to his understanding, was it not the same as punching anyway? Either way force would go in, unobstructed or not.

The sect's text advised him to inspect water, and so he went to the first cliff he landed and dipped his toes in. He walked inside the sea, touched it, and delved in it. Though not as uncomfortable, he still felt a weight bearing on his body in water.

What caused it? Why was he feeling so heavy in water, yet not outside? Was it the thickness of the substance? Was it the waves, or the Moon, or the Sun that shone which barely reached through the crystalline sphere covering the island?

Did the water have a force of its own?

That thought, he held onto. And he spent the next two weeks in the same manner, eating food provided by demonics, sparring and teaching, and practicing both of his arts until he could form a twelve-petaled lotus with more potent defense. It only cost five mere pulls more, which he found to be cheap in comparison. Not being flung would be a boon.

Then a day later, while playing in the water by himself, he punched the surface. His fist bore down, bringing a harsh whoosh from the displaced winds now howling, and stopped right before it touched the cold blue sea. There were no ripples, neither from the wind nor from his fist, but he felt something move through.

Something exploded inside the water, then again, and again. Three loud booms, and each raised waves higher than him by two heads in a row.

Displacing force was not so much ignoring an obstruction, he thought while clenching his tingling fist, but being one with it. There was a certain rhythm to all life, as he had experienced through his ascendant days, and rhythm was a motion. He could recognize the motion and he could peer into the rhythm of it through the water and its movements. His Qi would match that rhythm, and the other side would recognize it as its own—his force becoming theirs. On people, however, that would require him to read the water-thinned blood flow to burst through, a task infinitely harder than his first attempt.

But he had learned it, and he could use it with a little more practice.

The last few days passed as he practiced his Current Fist, instructed demonics now long-used to their cultivation, and meditated. His last session lasted an hour, then he woke up to find the Spiritual Link with the five demonics before him.

He took up his sword, grazed the pouch on his neck, and strapped his still-toed boots. They led him outside and to a cliff facing the north. Through his sense, Zhang Cai saw the colossus of a presence, a towering tree among little saps and leaves. The demonics themselves were mere branches, and he was a sprouting tree yet to come of age.

''May fortune favor us.'' Zhang Cai said. He shot the Spiritual Link an aquamarine pill of water breathing.

The Spiritual Link replied in the same static tone he used throughout their interactions and put away the pill. ''My lord will.''

They readied themselves, watched the presence grow larger and larger, and a faint silver sheen flicker before their eyes. A few seconds passed, and the barrier disappeared.