Hanzen Sang was the youngest El-der--by age and tenure, both--in the Moon-stone Is-land Sect, and also, only the sec-ond El-der to be ac-tive-ly re-cruit-ed since the found-ing of the Sect. This was not, how-ev-er, be-cause he was a ge-nius of qi, or in-scrip-tions, or alche-my, or any oth-er gen-er-al top-ic. In-stead, a younger Sang had de-sired his own float-ing is-land for his home, and had come to the Sect in-tend-ing to re-search the qi that held the Moon-stone Is-lands aloft, and he threw him-self into that re-search with re-lent-less, reck-less in-ten-si-ty.

  Be-cause of that, Sang knew all too well that the dif-fer-ence be-tween var-i-ous phas-es of Qi was not men-tal, not a mat-ter of in-tent. It was im-pos-si-ble for a younger cul-ti-va-tor to dis-play the same qi as a more ad-vanced one. Sang had un-der-stood the Moon-stone Is-lands' qi when he was no more ad-vanced than young Ki'el--though he had been sub-stan-tial-ly old-er, hav-ing fo-cused on his re-search rather than cul-ti-va-tion. But his every ef-fort to bend qi to his will failed.

  This con-tin-ued un-til he broke through to Quartz Qi, the be-gin-ning of Heav-en-ly Gem phase, and he fi-nal-ly be-gan to un-der-stand that each break-through grant-ed au-thor-i-ty.

  Heav-en-ly Abode Qi--Sang's per-son-al re-fine-ment of the Moon-stone Is-land con-cept--had been cor-rect in the-o-ry from the be-gin-ning. Sang knew, be-cause he ref-er-enced his old notes, go-ing back fur-ther and fur-ther un-til he was de-ci-pher-ing scrib-bles from thir-ty years pri-or, but all of those old notes were cor-rect. Once his qi had the prop-er au-thor-i-ty, he could cre-ate mas-sive float-ing is-lands not dif-fer-ent from the Sect's foun-da-tions--and he had. Some of the Is-lands still a part of the sect to-day were is-lands he sup-port-ed us-ing those orig-i-nal notes, which were clos-er to Moon-stone Is-land Qi than Heav-en-ly Abode Qi. But pri-or to that break-through--all else equal but for that one crit-i-cal piece of au-thor-i-ty--there was noth-ing that Sang could do, no mat-ter how he gath-ered his qi, no mat-ter how he forged his in-tent, no mat-ter what lay-ers of in-scrip-tion he laid down or how he split his pat-terns among scripts and ar-ti-facts--not so long as those scripts and ar-ti-facts were pow-ered by his own qi.

  He had come to un-der-stand since then that it was an iron-clad rule--one's qi had a cer-tain au-thor-i-ty, which shift-ed as one ad-vanced. Un-til a cer-tain au-thor-i-ty was gained, cer-tain things were im-pos-si-ble.

  El-der Sang stood qui-et-ly by as he watched young Ki'el per-form an im-pos-si-ble feat--or per-haps, a hereti-cal one.

  Sang un-der-stood, of course, that the ar-ti-fact that young Ki'el wield-ed was cre-at-ed by a mas-ter, and that mas-ter's au-thor-i-ty might be res-i-dent with-in the weapon. He was pre-pared, in one sense, to have sensed a for-eign tint to the qi that the Aether Sword re-leased, a tint that would be the mas-ter's qi re-spond-ing to the wield-er. And there was--per-haps--just a trace of it.

  But what he sensed more than any-thing was the girl's in-tent. He had sensed her cre-at-ing the in-tent, wrestling with it, sensed the burn-ing of her chan-nels as she ex-ert-ed her-self--and un-der-stood what hap-pened next, per-haps in-cor-rect-ly, as the sword grant-i-ng au-thor-i-ty to the girl's in-tent. How much au-thor-i-ty was im-pos-si-ble to tell; all he knew was that she achieved what she at-tempt-ed. Per-haps it was un-lim-it-ed, and per-haps not.

  Sang knew all too well the stages. Bright Met-al al-lowed you to con-nect your qi, but the dis-trib-uted struc-ture could not be treat-ed as a sin-gle whole for most pur-pos-es. At Earth-ly Gem, the qi that you stretch across space could be-come whole and sol-id, sim-pli-fy-ing bar-ri-ers sub-stan-tial-ly, but no mat-ter how much qi he poured into it, the qi was sim-ply not in-tense enough to hold to-geth-er such a mas-sive ef-fect as a Moon-stone Is-land. Heav-en-ly Gem had been an in-fu-ri-at-ing step for-ward, for Sang, be-cause it added a touch of in-ten-si-ty to one's qi, an in-ten-si-ty and sin-gu-lar fo-cus that tru-ly be-gan to re-shape what was pos-si-ble with qi. But for Sang's pur-pos-es, it was use-less--he need-ed his en-tire, dis-trib-uted qi struc-ture to hum with that vi-brant in-ten-si-ty. With-out that, hold-ing up an en-tire float-ing is-land with qi alone was im-pos-si-ble, no mat-ter how much en-er-gy you threw at it. And Heav-en-ly Gem re-fused to al-low that--the in-ten-si-ty could be gath-ered at any point, but the whole of his qi could not be im-bued with that strength, no mat-ter the in-tent, no mat-ter the clever arrange-ment of scripts. It felt like a be-tray-al that Sang reached the Moon-stone tier of Qi but was un-able to cre-ate a Moon-stone Is-land. Only at Tran-scen-dent Gem Phase had his qi gained that au-thor-i-ty, and when he had it, every-thing sim-ply worked.

  Ki'el's [True Sword Qi] was at that phase, and per-haps be-yond. And it was her qi, with her in-tent. He had watched it hap-pen. If Hanzen Sang had such a tool at his dis-pos-al when he was at Bis-muth Qi, he could have--slow-ly, with ef-fort--recre-at-ed the en-tire Moon-stone Is-land Sect.

  Sang was not a war-rior by na-ture, and his qi was not suit-ed for com-bat. But El-der Sang was not an id-iot. He had watched gen-er-a-tions of war-riors grow, since be-com-ing an El-der, and had been beat-en over the head--some-times metaphor-i-cal-ly, some-times lit-er-al-ly--by how some peo-ple did not de-serve the au-thor-i-ty of high-er tiers of qi. Not only would they use it for bru-tal vi-o-lence, but many were sim-ply too stu-pid to use greater pow-er with-out de-stroy-ing them-selves, and every-thing around them.

  And this was what the An-gel wished to hand out. A war-rior's weapon, one which would grant the wield-er Au-thor-i-ty. Even Sang might not have un-der-stood, when he was younger, that an Aether Sword might be used to cre-ate float-ing is-lands as eas-i-ly as it cut them apart--not un-less he was told.

  Sang watched young Ki'el's Sword Qi cut straight through an In-ner Sect dis-ci-ple, a no-ble, at Opal Qi--high Mor-tal Gem. High enough to be able to cre-ate qi bar-ri-ers, but not high enough to im-bue them with in-ten-si-ty. But Ki'el seemed to lose con-trol of the strike, as with the last time she used her sword to at-tack, and it flashed for-ward, cut-ting what-ev-er was be-hind the man.

  The no-bles had each brought be-tween one and three re-tain-ers, and nei-ther the two re-tain-ers in the way of the blow had the pres-ence of mind to dodge the strike, or even throw up a bar-ri-er. Why would they, when a Young Mas-ter was be-tween them and the blow? One was lucky enough to only lose half of a hand and part of a shoul-der, but the oth-er... lost more than enough.

  And the strike con-tin-ued on, past them. A part of Sang's mind watched it go with re-mark-able de-tach-ment, not-ing that it cut a sig-nif-i-cant depth into the ground, and the same for an-oth-er is-land above them in that di-rec-tion, while scraps of the qi ex-it-ed the Sect, the bar-ri-ers that re-mained al-low-ing qi out but not in. Un-less he missed his guess, it would con-tin-ue on well past his abil-i-ty to sense, though not for-ev-er. The pro-jec-tion was co-he-sive and in-tense--a mark that nor-mal-ly in-di-cat-ed Tran-scen-dant Gem and be-yond.

  But also... giv-en its in-ten-si-ty, it did not ap-pear to be a spe-cif-ic "cut-ting" in-tent, only "sword" in-tent. It did cut, but Sang knew well what cut-ting in-tent with that in-ten-si-ty did. He had re-paired the foun-da-tions of sev-er-al Moon-stone Is-lands where stray cut-ting in-tent had cleaved rock like wa-ter. This did cut rock, but it did not con-tin-ue care-less-ly. It re-mained [Sword Qi], and it did only what a sword did.

  Fas-ci-nat-ing, if still dis-heart-en-ing.

  But... Ki'el was in no con-di-tion to con-trol that pow-er, as Sang knew she would not be. In a sin-gle blow, she blew through what-ev-er pow-er she was us-ing, burned her merid-i-ans again, and was im-me-di-ate-ly strug-gling to re-main con-scious. Her com-pan-ion fox spir-it--Sang was glad that she had ac-com-plished that, at least--im-me-di-ate-ly pulled the girl away, but that did noth-ing about the no-ble step-ping for-ward, face twist-ed with hate. Djang Ren Xari, for her part, kept her dis-tance, and her face looked... con-flict-ed, but she didn't raise a hand to stop the oth-er.

  Sang might have wast-ed words on the man, or the Ren, un-der dif-fer-ent cir-cum-stances, but his mind was full of too many oth-er things, and the mo-ment passed.

  Sang forced him-self to step light-ly, mov-ing be-tween Ki'el's re-treat-ing form and the no-ble--Tan Fong Men-shi, if he re-called cor-rect-ly--more than quick-ly enough that the man had time to re-act. And he did re-act--by draw-ing a long and wicked-ly sharp blade from his space ring, al-ready un-sheathed, a howl-ing scream of heat and vi-o-lence be-gin-ning to form around its edge, and he be-gan to swing, his In-tent mur-der-ous.

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  Sang sim-ply brought his hands up, and pulled his fin-gers in like he were snatch-ing at pup-pet strings. Stone and root, dirt and heart-wood, gold and crys-tal... the fun-da-men-tal el-e-ments of a Heav-en-ly Abode were al-ways around him, and form-ing a small foun-da-tion, and with his pow-er and in-tent, im-bu-ing it with a sol-id de-fen-sive for-ma-tion was only a mo-ment's work.

  Af-ter all, El-der Sang had long since reached Mor-tal Flame, and had the Au-thor-i-ty to draw pow-er from his own Greater Self. It was risky, in cer-tain cir-cum-stances, but un-de-ni-ably faster than draw-ing qi from the world, and with-out ex-haust-ing him-self as quick-ly as emp-ty-ing his dant-ian did.

  [ Heav-en-ly Abode: Seal of Re-jec-tion ]

  Sang's qi sang out with the tech-nique name, and the no-ble's qi snarled back its re-ply, the sword seek-ing out a flaw in his spell-work.

  [ In-fer-no Blade: Howl-ing Fang Strike ]

  "De-sist," Sang said, try-ing to fill his words with more au-thor-i-ty than he felt, or ar-guably, had un-der the cir-cum-stances.

  "You have no right to stop my vengeance," the no-ble's voice was be-yond un-yield-ing, and he drew back the blade only enough to repo-si-tion it for an-oth-er thrust.

  "Your ally can be--"

  "Men-shi!" Xari's cry went un-heed-ed, just as Sang's words did. The swords-man's qi fo-cused down into the finest point he could cre-ate, and Sang knew that in truth, his qi was not that of a war-rior's.

  Al-though Sang had the more ma-ture qi, for an at-tack-er, Heav-en-ly Gem--the mo-ment where that in-ten-si-ty was un-locked the first time--was the mo-ment when any-one could be-gin to be tru-ly dan-ger-ous to an op-po-nent. Al-though Sang's scripts were well-fin-ished and had many re-dun-dan-cies, they had weak-ness-es, and he knew they did. All one had to do was be clever about how your pow-er was used, and any qi above Heav-en-ly Gem could the-o-ret-i-cal-ly pierce Sang's bar-ri-er.

  To-day would mark the first time that Sang had ever seen that in a real fight, but then, Sang didn't get into a lot of fights.

  "Sang!" A scream from be-hind him seemed odd-ly out of place. Xoi Xam, he re-al-ized, was call-ing out to him. He flicked his hand out, cre-at-ing a Foun-da-tion with sim-i-lar ease to the last one, but some-what larg-er, and flicked it in her di-rec-tion, as-sign-ing scripts to it with his right hand, fin-ish-ing well be-fore his left arm fin-ished falling limply against his body.

  Sev-er-al cut mus-cles and ten-dons in the shoul-der, pos-si-bly nerves, Sang mused qui-et-ly to him-self. Straight through the bone, of course. That would be a ter-ri-ble prob-lem to heal. The sword was with-drawn with-in a mo-ment, and Sang pushed the foun-da-tion away, trust-ing that the oth-ers would un-der-stand. If no one else, his nephew would, as-sum-ing they went to him, or he caught up with them. Heav-en-ly Abode foun-da-tions weren't that dif-fi-cult to un-der-stand, if some-one only showed you the way.

  [ Heave-ly Abode: Pri-ma-ry Foun-da-tion ]

  Sang moved back with more grace than he felt, his fin-gers al-ready twitch-ing, and the next sword strike was stopped by a stream of ma-te-r-i-al com-ing out of the ground, form-ing a Foun-da-tion around the blade. He had every right to be an-gry, of course, but Sang was not the an-gry sort of cul-ti-va-tor. He was not the bat-tle kind of cul-ti-va-tor. He was not the killing kind of cul-ti-va-tor.

  His op-po-nent, how-ev-er, was.

  [ In-fer-no Blade: Lion's Claws, Un-sheathed ]

  Five blades of fire carved open gash-es in Sang's chest, even as he moved back again, avoid-ing a killing strike. He hadn't been think-ing; he poured his qi into his body's cy-cle, re-in-forc-ing it and al-low-ing that in-ten-si-ty to coat every inch of his skin and to fill his bones.

  "That's more than enough," Sang said, and he felt the trem-ble of Au-thor-i-ty be-hind his words, an in-ten-si-ty that he knew struck against Men-shi's low-er, Star Ruby Qi. The next time that the sword came for Sang, he caught it--be-tween his fin-gers. "I de-test vi-o-lence, but you will cease."

  He sensed it be-fore they did, of course, but not fast enough.

  Two pres-ences, both a match for his qi, had en-tered the Sect through the hole in the out-er wards, but only now, only here did they re-veal them-selves. Both were Ren; al-though Sang couldn't iden-ti-fy ei-ther by sight, their qi shout-ed their Qi Na-tures too loud to be ig-nored. [ Silk-steel ] was the more dan-ger-ous one, the man glar-ing down at Sang with the in-ten-si-ty of an en-ti-tled man whose do-main had been trod upon by an un-wel-come peas-ant. Be-side him, the woman's [ Gold and Sil-ver Paint Strokes ] were even now weav-ing a ta-pes-try into be-ing that Sang could do noth-ing about--but that, at least, was un-like-ly to slaugh-ter him out-right.

  Col-lec-tive-ly, the three of them, and the two be-low, felt Her stand up.

  Sang al-most sagged in re-lief, but the wield-er of [ Silk-steel ] only need-ed to ges-ture sub-tly, and his vo-lu-mi-nous robes be-gan to send out streams of raz-er-edged cloth to-wards Sang. So Sang called again on the Moon-stone Is-lands, and his own Greater Self, and even the ma-te-r-i-al he kept in his Space Ring--

  And still the cloth cut straight through his leg, leav-ing noth-ing be-hind from the low-er fe-mur down.

  Sang twist-ed his qi, hold-ing him-self up-right and pulling him-self away, but he too could feel the me-thod-i-cal pace of the Moon-stone Is-lands' mas-ter. She did not rouse her-self too of-ten, and was not ea-ger to get into a fight. She might, just might, be-come en-raged if Sang died be-fore she got there... but that was of lit-tle use to Sang, now.

  "Fa-ther, stop!" Xari's voice cut through the air, but Sang thought that the younger woman's voice was less like-ly the rea-son the man stopped than be-cause the woman's tech-nique com-plet-ed.

  [ Gold and Sil-ver Paint Strokes: Pic-ture of the Un-re-pen-tant Con-demned ]

  The seal-ing tech-nique that slammed into Sang would have left him com-plete-ly un-con-scious, if he was not cy-cling the qi of his Greater Self through his body. As it was, he could dim-ly feel his fu-ture self--and that gave him strength, be-liev-ing that he would not die here, had not al-ready died here. But his sense of pre-sent self van-ished, leav-ing him in an in-be-tween state.

  He had heard of it be-fore, be-ing sealed while con-nect-ed to one's Greater Self, but to ex-pe-ri-ence it was... some-thing else. He might have ex-plored it... if he could do so, and also, if he had con-fi-dence that he would keep his san-i-ty. But al-though he sensed his greater self, while sealed, his mind slowed to a crawl, and then ceased.

  When he re-turned to his prop-er self, he was gasp-ing on the ground, more than halfway healed, El-der Onda's heal-ing pat-tern re-vers-ing the dam-age be-fore Sang him-self was quite aware of it. And she was there, the two Ren glar-ing at her, but they re-fused to budge.

  What-ev-er had been said be-fore he awoke, Sang only heard si-lence now.

  "I don't care," she fi-nal-ly said, the head of the Moon-stone Is-land Sect turn-ing away from the war-riors who had am-pu-tat-ed and sealed him. "But the next time you ar-rive here with hos-tile in-tent, I will not feel in-clined to for-give you."

  "Hon-ored Founder--" the woman with the Gold and Sil-ver qi, whose name he could not place, be-gan.

  "Go," Onda snapped back at them, his voice harsh. "There are more peo-ple in this sect you need to wor-ry about of-fend-ing than just the Princess."

  For some rea-son, the man--if he were Djang Ren Xari's fa-ther, that would make him Samar--scowled, and puffed him-self up, look-ing en-tire-ly too proud. "Un-like my wife, I don't hold any sil-ly at-tach-ment to this sect. I well re-mem-ber most of you, and how ut-ter-ly near-sight-ed you all were. My ad-vance-ment may have stalled, but I don't fear you in bat-tle. Not af-ter what I have learned, and done, in the fam-i-ly since then."

  "Is that so?"

  The voice that came from be-hind Samar was small, and Sang glanced past, feel-ing a bit too pained to find any amuse-ment in the woman who came up be-hind the two of them. "No fear at all?"

  Sang heard Onda chuck-le a lit-tle, and want-ed to smack him. [Fo-cus on heal-ing me, would you?]

  [ As if I couldn't do that while jug-gling knives, ] Onda re-turned, but the mous-tached man let the amuse-ment fade from his face. [ Pity we won't ac-tu-al-ly see her fight. ]

  [ Peace is not a pity, ] Sang re-turned, but glanced back and forth be-tween Samar and Futi, won-der-ing if the woman would ac-tu-al-ly dare show her cards again. The terms of the ban-ish-ment... but then, if the Di-a-mond Lord were tru-ly dead...

  "Our dear Sect Aunt," Samar said, af-ter a long mo-ment when Sang imag-ined he had forced him-self to ra-tio-nal-ize what was in front of him. At least, his voice was for-mal, now. "Here to pun-ish me? No longer afraid of the Em-pire's re-stric-tions?"

  "Be care-ful what you as-sume, and about whom, Ren Samar." The small woman scowled at him, but looked to the woman next to him. "Wu-lai. It has been too long."

  "Sis-ter Futi." The woman bowed. "Apolo-gies, but it seems we won't be hav-ing that drink any time soon."

  Futi looked past them, and past Sang, to the re-treat-ing own-er of the Sect. "No. But I sup-pose I may find the time, some day, to bring wine to your grave-stone, to drown the for-got-ten days. If you die in such a way that leaves a body to bury."

  Sang could feel some-thing em-a-nat-ing from the three of them, emo-tions long buried per-haps, but he was not so adept with peo-ple as to un-der-stand it, and not so clear head-ed to care. At least his pain was eas-ing, enough to re-mem-ber what had come be-fore. He glanced to Onda. [ The kids? ]

  [ Away, ] Onda an-swered, with-out de-tails. And in truth, Sang shouldn't have asked, not where the ques-tion or an-swer could be over-heard. But it was good for his heart to be-lieve that young Ki'el and her group were not ac-tive-ly be-ing chased by these mon-sters.

  At least... un-til he re-al-ized that he did not see Tan Fong Men-shi, nor any sign that he had been wiped out by some-one else.