Threads 220-Second Day 4

Ling Qi sang a high clear bar. The wind howled, the ground frosted, and the whirling panels immediately snapped together into a solid dome that flashed a deep blue as it met the force of her Hoarfrost Refrain.

Ling Qi allowed silver to bleed into her eyes as she studied the way her offensive qi scattered. It struck like a blizzard wind but had shattered on contact with the tiles. Strands of qi had been unwound and separated, a fractal breaking that shredded the qi of her attack into smaller and smaller parts absorbed by the tiles.

The wind whipped up, her gown and cloak fluttered, and the ice of winter howled again to the same effect. Three times more, a quick and strident melody, and Ling Qi’s eyes narrowed. The feeling of his defense was all too familiar.

Isolation.

Weaponized, or perhaps, armorized? That was what his defenses did. They broke things down again and again until each strand of qi and each mote of power was alone and weak, then absorbed them. The adaptive component… Each time a similar construct was used against him, his art and the arrays of the talismans were able to break the offending technique down faster and more efficiently, taking less damage.

Her voice rose, and an eagle screamed. The tremendous phantom swooped down and dashed itself upon the intractable barrier that met it. Twice more, the eagle, and then again, the ice. The Hoarfrost scattered slower this time, not quite as slow as the first time she had used it,but slower all the same.

“Sister Ling has had a revelation,” Xuan Shi said mildly as the barrier around him broke apart, leaving them face-to-face on the now well ruined hilltop.

“It is a powerful effect, but as with anything, there are limits. It is still very impressive.”

“Not so much,” he deflected.

Ling Qi nodded, but her thoughts were distant. It felt strange to encounter a concept so familiar in another’s art.

The texture of the concept expressed through these talismans felt different compared to her own understanding, embedded now forever in the blade that was a part of herself. It was privation of a sort, but the closest she could come to articulating the difference was that she cultivated loneliness in scarcity, the deprived wasteland of deepest winter. Xuan Shi’s isolation seemed more like that of a starving man surrounded by a feast he couldn’t touch, the feeling of being alone even in the densest crowd.

It was familiar, but not quite intersecting with her understanding.

“Sister Ling?” Xuan Shi’s voice broke her from her thoughts.

She raised her head and put on a smile. “Apologies. I lost myself in thought for a moment. I think that’s enough of an initial test for me.”

“As Sister Ling wishes,” Xuan Shi said, bowing his head.

Ling Qi returned the gesture and turned away. “Shall you give it a try, Sir Luo?”

“My host is gracious. I may have a technique or two to try.”

“Feel free, son of Luo,” Xuan Shi invited.

Ling Qi moved back from the cleared area to stand beside Zhengui, resting a hand on his head as Luo Zhong took up the field. “Thank you for preparing the ground, Zhengui,” she said, brushing her fingers over smooth scales.

“Zhen was pleased to help,” his other half said snootily, bumping his broad head against her shoulder. Ling Qi chuckled and reached up to rub the serpent’s brow ridges.

“It’s kinda boring with everyone busy,” Gui said quietly. “But that is good ‘cause it gives Zhen and Gui time to think.”

“It gives I, Zhen, time to argue with thickheaded Gui perhaps,” the serpent corrected.

Ling Qi gave a small hum of acknowledgement. She knew Zhengui needed time to contemplate and work through things too. Beast cultivation was narrower, but not so different from her own cultivation.

As she watched, Luo Zhong politely bowed to Xuan Shi before a flick of his wrist brought a paper talisman into his hands.

“I’ll find time to talk to you if you need it,” she offered. She wasn’t going to be overbearing, but she would be available.

Zhen gave a happy hiss as she gave his head one last pat and returned her hand to the top of Gui’s head.

Qi burned across the characters inked on the talisman in Luo Zhong’s hand, and Ling Qi cocked her head as she felt threads of qi extending into the spiritual realm, calling, or rather, pulling on something like a leash or a tether. Crimson fire bloomed within the circling tiles, right between Xuan Shi’s feet.

The whirling tiles slammed down in a solid dome, cutting Xuan Shi off from the outside entirely. A breath passed, and then, they came apart. The fire was gone.

“Well, it would have been disappointing if it was really so easy,” Luo Zhong said, unperturbed.The same fire burned on one character of the paper talismans, fitful and sparking.

“To create a construct within the defenses was an obvious solution. But one would be more foolish not to try, if the option is there.”

Ling Qi watched Luo Zhong nod and sweep the talisman held between his fingers through a few rapid, sharp movements. The light burning in the characters changed, red bleeding to silver, lighting up new characters. Again, she felt a pull on threads extending out of the material.

“What fun,” Wang Chao said loudly as he reached her side. He watched with interest as a horse-sized hound of silver fire erupted from the earth under Xuan Shi’s feet, carrying him skyward on the platform formed of the barrier panels that had snapped into place under his feet. The talisman in Luo Zhong’s hand swept through the air vertically, trailing glittering blue light, and a second hound wrought of clouds and lightning coalesced from the mist left behind by her own arts, diving down to strike like lightning against the dome forming over Xuan Shi’s head. “It seems like Brother Luo is taking this seriously!”

Ling Qi glanced his way. “It does seem so. What is the art he is using? Those aren’t bound spirits. I can tell that much.”

“Luo contract techniques,” Wang Chao said. “He used them in our tournament too.”

That jogged Ling Qi’s memory. In studying the clans of Emerald Seas, she had seen mentions that the Luo had retained a somewhat unorthodox spirit binding and relations tradition from their branch of the Weilu. She’d not put much thought into it before.

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Green light burned on a talisman. The silver wolf dissolved, and the wind picked up with an animal howl, a nigh invisible green flash the only sign of the third “spirit” summoned. It felt like sharp edges and spring wind, and she saw chips of ceramic go flying as it struck innumerable times in quick succession at the whirling panels.

“So that’s why I can feel his qi pulling at something out of sight,” Ling Qi mused.

<Pretty costly from the feel of it,> Sixiang whispered.

“Right. Contract arts don’t allow the full spirit to be drawn on, only a certain fraction determined by negotiations,” Wang Chao explained, putting on his knowledgeable voice. “And only to do certain specific things.”

Push and pull, give and take. That explained what she was feeling from those weird liminal connections. It was not too unlike what she’d done with the river spirit, offering power for a service or boon.

Transaction was not completely alien to her own thoughts of community and communication, but the way Luo Zhong employed it felt coarse to her. Impersonal was perhaps a better descriptor.

The lightshow on the hill ended as Xuan Shi crashed back to earth. There was a single tiny chip in the brim of his hat. “An Impressive trick. Such a small thing, slipping in amidst the bright and flashing threats. This one will have to adjust the formation’s threat detection.”

Luo Zhong smiled faintly, raising his hand to allow a glittering dragonfly seemingly made from glass to alight on his fingers. “Against powerful techniques, your work is truly superlative, Brother Xuan. This little trick could hardly change the course of a battle.”