David

The sound of the Song echoed in the distance, though David couldn't say for certain that it wasn't the rumbling of a bass line from Liu Na's stage or the everdistant rolling thunder of an approaching storm. Rain rarely fell on the Middle Continent - or at least it had seemed that way since he'd arrived.

Clouds had gathered around Huzhou, thick and dark and ominous - no, not around Huzhou. They were gathered around the peak of Song Mountain.

When she heard the sound of thunder, the girl on stage - Liu Na - threw a frightened glance over her shoulder, but she continued her song.

"You take me higher!" she promised the jade stick she sang into.

David examined the jade stick and what he assumed was some kind of microphone. "How does that work?" David asked, pointing at it.

"The Amplifier? I'd tell you, but there would be two major problems if I did."

"Problems?" David asked, intrigued. He thought of how the Iron Scripture slipped from his mind when he tried to recall Li's off-handed verses in Chinese.

"First, Shishi might be incredible, but her light does not match Bo Yun's. She cannot have a male disciple."

David rolled his eyes. "I see."

"Secondly, I would have to fight with your Peak Masters! They're so scary! I'm a beautiful and cultured ideal that the women of Huzhou strive to be and the men of Huzhou strive to be with. How could I ever compete with those wartorn veterans?"

David decided that this was likely who Zhu Feiyan would turn into in a century or so, and hoped that a longer lifespan would increase his tolerance for being annoyed.

"But actually, no one really knows," said Shishi. "It would be an interesting object of study, but it's rather irreplaceable, as there's only one of them."

David nodded.

"That being said, no one's ever managed to destroy anything in the Portrait Hall, or tamper with them in any way."

David squinted at her and turned around, staring at the marble double doors they'd come through earlier. "Are you talking about a different Portrait Hall than the one we were just in?"

"Nope! Same one."

"The Portrait Hall where there's only one of the portraits that isn't just a blank canvas?"

Shishi shrugged. "We keep fairly decent records, and there's only records of failed attempts to destroy them, or restore them."

"So what happens when they disappear? " David protested.

"What do you mean what happens?" Shishi returned. "Where do venerated ideas go when their Venerates die? Why is your qi less stable when another cultivator perceives it, even when there's no Karma between either of you?"

"Is that last one true?" David stared.

"What do you mean is that true? It's the most noticeable thing in the world. How did someone as unobservant as you ever form a core?"

"It's why you should never observe a tribulation, you might cause it to fail," blustered Wen suddenly. David thought of how the man had hid behind the mast on the boat they'd sailed up Sky River on when the Widow of Tianbei had faced the Heavens.

"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard," said Shishi.

Thunder rumbled again, and the Song surged. It was clear, just from the minutes David had met Bo Yun - that it was her qi. There were some people who deserved certain words David could use to describe qi - words that defied reason. Alice's Song was hungry, Fairy Guan's Song was sharp, Uncle Jiang's Song rose like the tide.

Daoist Bo's Song was beloved - all encompassing, warm, proper, clear, blue and bright.

"You can hear it, can't you," whispered Shishi. There was still a smile on her face, as she clapped along to Liu Na's song. "When I was an outer disciple, I used to read accounts of cultivation from distant skies - believe it or not, Shishi was a scholar of both music and the dao!”

Shishi’s smile became something brittle and wistful. "I thought I was a great singer, a great cultivator, until I met Bo Yun." She turned to Wen. "Count the instruments. A student of the greatest singer in living memory will not have a complete lack of musical knowledge."

"The instrumentation is split into a base line and a harmonic line. The baseline consists of both -" Wen began, taking on a long-suffering air, as he began to describe the composition of the accompanying musicians and the instruments they played.

David tuned him out, focusing instead on Liu Na's lyrics, and the crowd's reaction.

"What do you think of Sister Bai?" asked Wen, somewhat suddenly, poking David's forearm.

"Who?" David asked, startled.

"The one playing the flute, of course," said Wen. He was pointing at a flute too - the one hanging from David's belt. "Weren't you getting pretty good at playing it the last time we met?"

David had almost forgotten that he still carried it around.

"Don't put our honored guest on the spot," said Shishi. "For some cultivators, instruments are simply cosmetic."

David didn't like that, but it was almost the truth. He hadn't played the flute since Alice had stopped needling him about it, for what seemed like weeks.

David found himself considering the instrumentation again - from Liu Na's voice to the flutes and erhus on stage to the drumming of feet on the dancefloor.

But there was an instrument that came from yet another source - no, not another source - it also arose from the singer on stage - a tinkling bell that interjected with a familiar, halting caution, searching for the most precise moments of that heartbeat the crowd had offered her.

The pieces clicked into place - David wasn't just watching Liu Na, the singer, debut her album, he was also watching Liu Na, the cultivator, attempt core formation.

The bell caught the arrhythmic tick from the old woman with the wooden block and synchronized with it for a few seconds. David felt a spike of concern in his stomach, despite his general distaste for the singer.

To his relief, the misplaced Song of her prospective core stopped abruptly.

Liu Na was still singing, but her eyes were no longer closed - she was glaring at the three of them, but only for a split second - she immediately closed her eyes once more.

"Too emotional," muttered Shishi. "Disciple Wen, since your master cannot be here, I'll pass on this lesson to you, if you are willing to learn."

Wen nodded.

"There is nothing worse than breaking character on stage. Do not let your rising cultivation infect you with the belief that your supporters won't notice your behavior because they are mortal. Of all the people here to see Liu Na, which group is most likely to notice her glaring at her fellow disciples?"

Wen leaned back in his seat, deep in thought. "The people who are paying the most attention to her," he decided, after a few moments.

"Smart boy," said Shishi. She gave Wen's ribs a poke. "Follow that line of reasoning."

Wen opened his mouth.

"If you give this daoist a wrong answer after deep thought, she will lead you in the right direction. If you give this daoist a wrong answer with no thought, she will give you a chance to think while you're auditing the Medicine Room's inventory."

Wen's eyes widened. "Isn't it a little unfair for me to-"

"If you want to consider whether or not I'm being fair, you can complain to your Master about it, and she'll give you the extra time to ponder that second question while you're weighing and labeling the herbs for this month's resource distribution."

Wen sighed and folded his arms. David narrowed his eyes. Hadn't counting the flower delivery from the Ascending Sky been Bo's punishment for Shishi? Surely this was some sort of ploy to shirk her own responsibilities onto Wen, dressed up as a life lesson.

"Have you already forgotten the question?" asked Shishi, a touch too hopefully.

Wen shook his head.

Shishi raised a finger over her lips and winked at David when Wen wasn't looking.

Liu Na had started her next song, and the tinkling bell of her attempt to harmonize a core with her Song returned. The sound of that old woman playing the mallet had somehow grown worse. Was it really that difficult to convince literally any one of a sect full of singers to play the easiest instrument imaginable on such an important occasion?

Wen broke his silence. "If they're paying the most attention to her, they're probably-. No, they are her most fervent supporters. And they'll have the biggest impact on her success? Because there's more spiritual weight in a deeper connection," he decided, then shook his head rapidly. "No, that's too complicated, it's just because they're most likely to notice, so they're most at risk as is." His last words came out in a flurry.

"Is that so?" asked Shishi. "So who should Liu Na be glaring at when she's singing? As a cultivator, wouldn't it be appropriate to glare heavenwards - to proudly make your values known?"

David considered his own Core Formation, and the thoughts swirling around his mind in the immediate aftermath when he'd almost ignited. If it hadn't been an exact match with Shishi's questions, there was at least some kind of similarity there. There was another sloppy thud of wood on wood from Liu Na's band, shaking him from his thoughts.

"Senior sister is asking me a trick question, because her tone of voice has suddenly become suspiciously neutral," said Wen, with far more confidence. "Liu Na shouldn't be glaring at anyone."

"Maybe she should be glaring at that friendly grandmother who's wrecked her last three songs," said David, squinting at the stage. "If she wasn't on stage, Liu Na would probably have formed her Core by now."

“I need love to breathe,” Liu Na belted, slightly out of time, sabotaged by the old woman yet again.

David had had enough - he was going to do something about this.

“Will you close your eyes,” Liu Na sang, high and clear.

David caught Liu Na’s eye and mouthed out the lyrics he expected, aggressively tapping out the tempo onto the table. “Think of what it means to stay by my side,” he mouthed.

Liu Na glared at him again - but it didn’t matter that her composition wasn’t exactly the same, just that it followed along to the correct beat.

“What are you doing,” muttered Shishi.

“The moments are far away now,” David mouthed soundlessly, composing lyrics that roughly fit the general themes of the song and tapping along to a delicate run, “and the memories ring loud - love is where I’ll lead, no matter how I bleed - no matter what I plead-”

His words weren’t even in the Language of the Stars in the Sky - they were in English, but it didn’t matter what they were, didn’t matter that no one could hear his words, his overly cheesy lyrics - he just needed to hook the run onto a rhythm that made sense, to carry the clack clack clack of his knuckles against the marble.

“I need love to breathe,” sang Shishi, standing - in a soprano at such a high register it would have shattered glass.

“I need love to breathe,” echoed the thousands and thousands of voices in the audience, resonating with the core formed within Liu Na.

The sound of thunder echoed in the distance, accompanied by the stab of tinkling bells from Liu Na’s core, by the perfectly pitched coloratura note held by a little girl in her audience, by the roar of an approving crowd played like a drumming base.

Across Immortal Lake, over Song Mountain, a bolt of lightning fell from the sky - one that David had met before.

And David now knew its name.

Censure.

This was Earthly Tribulation, the trial granted to Bo Yun, who had knocked at the Gates of Heaven with her head held high.

Bo Yun had two students. There was the student she favored - Wen Cheng, who flew in the face of her sect’s tradition to wear robes of red, a son of different skies. And there was the student she ignored - Liu Na, who sang in desperation to unfriendly peers, a daughter of Huzhou.

And in this moment of wonder, in this moment of triumph, David watched as an old woman who he had sworn possessed no qi, who had been driving a cart to ferry Liu Na’s fans to her concert, grasped her mallet and brought it down on her wooden block like an ax, splitting it in two.

There was an almighty crack and on the dark dance floor, pockets of heat and light roared into existence in a concerted boom, setting the night ablaze in fire and flame.