A procession of white invaded the streets of Liaojiangkou as the Liao Clan emerged unto the ruined city they ruled over.


    Leading them were Liao priests in their white Fa Yi vestments, a shade more blinding than northern snowfields at noon, almost as though warding off evil intentions; embroidered in gold upon these vestments were depictions of the underworld, their rulers and tortures. This embroidery spoke to the department they had dedicated their spiritual learning. Other departments were more common for a priest to join, but for a Cultivation Clan, the greatest need lay in those who could transcend ghostly presences might be tethered to the Qi of a dead Cultivator.


    The white robes Hua wore would very soon be stained grey as ash fell relentlessly and the smoke of dying fires was blown across the city. The bright blue of her lapels would be hidden by soot. Without the Liao River and the flooding from the basin, more of the city would have burnt. There might very well have been no city left. For once, flooding had been a kindness. Future generations would not believe the history books.


    It was strange to see the sky without the celestial lightning. The glimpse of heaven she saw once. The final goal of her journey, no matter how long it took. There, she would break the spires and impale the gods for what they had done. She would rip with lightning on her fingers and tear with fury in her heart until it was done and only silence remained.


    Hua exhaled her frustrations and continued in the procession, only a few steps behind the priests. She walked in her own pocket of authority.


    There was destruction that couldn’t be ignored. Home broken, shops shattered, inns burnt to the ground. No matter where they went, the toll in damage would be ruinous. People worked to repair and to triage and to rebuild what they could. But with the cold winds howling through the streets, winter would come soon and claim more lives. If they lost less than a third of their population in the next decade, it would be a great victory.


    There were, of course, Clan soldiers carrying the Clan’s Great Bronze Cauldron right behind Hua. Their armour gleamed in the strange reddish light the sun made through the smog. These were the same soldiers that had carried the Cauldron to the Lake and they would be the same soldiers who would return it. Just as the Gate Guard never walked away from their post, the Bronze Troops vowed to guard the Cauldron day and night.


    They would stop at the city’s central square. It was one of the largest spaces in the city, the intersection between a great many roads and a path leading to the now-drowned docks.


    It was also piled high with burning corpses. She would not be able to eat cooked meat for a while.


    The head priest directed the soldiers to set the Bronze Cauldron down. The others in the Clan cleared the space, forcing back the crowd with uncommon kindness for a person who carried the name Liao. Not many opposed this. Partly fear, partly understanding.


    The highest members of the Clan took up places around the Cauldron in eight of the ten cardinal directions, whilst the Head Priest and her second took up the cardinal directions for Heaven and Earth. Those last two directions were not verticals—Hua knew that from the great glimpse she’d had witnessed, how it both enveloped the world and folded upon itself—but a journey that needed to be walked.


    And so those two priests danced a path leading from Earth to Heaven. If one looked at a remove, they might see the space had been separated into ten sectors on a grid. Yubu, one of the inheritances Yu the Great had left for the world.


    Hua did not know the steps. It had never been her duty to know. She stood in the cardinal for the Northeast where the Trigram Zhen was known. Zhen for Thunder, Northeast for the eldest son.


    The pyre’s flames changed slowly. Flickers of green entered the mix as the temperature increased. It shifted further to blue as the cackling of fat and bone increased, pop-snaps arriving at a faster tempo.


    Alongside her grandmother and elders and those who took their place in the cardinals, Hua infused a piece of joss with her Qi, imparted the nature of Zhen to dislodge the restful dead, together they threw joss like confetti.


    The cauldron’s flames turned golden like noon was upon them. It was a fire that was liquid, that burned as it flowed, as impossible as divine lightning but far kinder than anything the gods wrought in their malice.


    If Hua lifted her gaze skyward, she could see a structure being built in the shadow of the golden flames. As Qi built and with each step the priests made, that structure led to a place far beyond.


    In this arrangement of trigrams and dances, space had been made for any to approach and add their offerings to the Bronze Cauldron. The first was an elder. Then it was her cousin Weiji throwing a bundle of orange. One after another, her Clan members threw in their offerings. And then it was the vassals who served and finally, one brave civilian whose act became a floodgate of offerings.


    People wept freely. They screamed, they cried and they howled, grief and fury and relief mingling with the flames. A vital energy from the crowd fuelling the flames, pushing the lights ever onward. To a place where ghosts could rest and feast and be judged without the weight of the earth anchoring their sins.


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    They would never understand the honour this was, only a step removed from using the Emperor’s own Great Cauldron. Mortals knew Liao Xiaosan was a hero. They could not comprehend the degree to which he was honoured until, perhaps, this moment when they saw their offerings accepted. It was from his honour that they could see their loved ones at peace. The power of peace could be felt though for Hua, it was a force felt in its absence.


    She saw a ghost in the crowd. Walking between the ignorant masses. Always just missing a flailing limb. No matter how vigorous the dances grew, no matter the light that rose and rose, the ghost remained.


    Maybe Qing was tethered to this place by Hua.


    “Where will I be buried?” the ghost asked Hua, words clear as a ringing bell. “I’m at the bottom of the river you named yourself after. You killed me, Hua. You did that.”


    Sweat beaded on her forehead. Exhaustion, surely, just from using her Qi. From enduring the last few days.


    “Qing wouldn’t say that,” she hissed under her breath.


    “You thought I couldn’t love you and you were wrong. Why do you think I could never hate you as well? You were a terrible friend. The worst kind of person; cruel, selfish, and malicious. I couldn’t abide who you were when I breathed. I still can’t.”


    “Then why are you fucking here?” she asked just as she had asked Qing when they were angry with each other and yet always returned to one another. The thread between them stretched far and never broke no matter how far down opposite roads they walked.


    “I’m trapped beneath the ocean. The waters crush me. I will drown forever tied to you. Set me free. Right here, right now, let me burn away and rest.”


    Letting go of Qing was unthinkable madness. Hua gritted her teeth and focused on infusing her Qi into the joss papers. One after another, she poured her Qi into them. She endured the judgemental gaze of Qing’s ghost and the ache deep inside her, where the dantian felt heavier than the mountains she knew as home.


    With each breath, she inhaled the smoke of the dead and the incense to appease them. She hated the taste, but it was better to focus on that than the taste of her regrets.


    It was not a short purification. It went on for minutes then hours. Noon gave way to sunset as more came to leave their dead and send them onwards.


    There was the Madame dressed in her finest mourning garb. Her men carried bodies wrapped in cloth and they were added to the pyre. The corpses ignited instantly, vanishing within the raging flames. She and her workers approached the Cauldron. Hua met her gaze and the two shared a moment of understanding. Cultivators mourned as mortals did, with the same fury and grief.


    So many arrived and so many laid their dead on the pyre before giving their offering. It was the Sealord throwing salt in the Cauldron. The Blue Hand pouring beer on the flames. Silver and gold and paper money, wheat and rice and honeyed meat. The essentials of life. Offerings that continued to build a bridge for spirits to cross. And when the last flickering light rose away, Hua knew things would soon end.


    The pyre’s blue flame died all at once. The sudden death of flame drew in the air with a loud clap. The sound startled one and all.


    The priest’s steps slowed as well. They came to a halt in the sectors for Heaven and Earth. As they did and the journey ended, the golden flames in the Bronze Cauldron reverted to a more standard flame. The simple reds and yellows one thought of from a fire, not that mythical flame in gold. Its job was done for now, the bridge forged and made, hungry spirits led to a place where they might be feast in peace.


    Where the had once been bodies, only ash remained. Not one bone had survived those cleansing flames.


    Hua finally let her Qi stop flowing. She felt depleted greatly. As she looked about, she saw two of the Elders kneeling on the ground, her clansmen flocking to support them. The other four of her kin who had taken up the cardinal directions visibly trembled beneath their white cloaks.


    The head priest was breathing hard. Both priests were. She watched them down a pill each, dregs of Qi sparking bright in their bodies. Not cheap, not at all. Those were their better pills, of a kind with the three Weiji gave her. They had allowed her to work tirelessly for days, trying to clear streets, and organise the foolish mortals who cared more about short-term gain than the home their children would have.


    “You’ve grown stronger,” her grandmother said approvingly, coming to stand at Hua’s shoulder, avoiding the cracks in the stonework. “The sixth star shines bright in you. Brighter than any I have ever seen.”


    Only they two remained upright without issue. Hua felt a flicker of warmth. Pride. She luxuriated in that contentedness. This was a good thing she had done. A worthy thing. Qing would have been smiling if she were here. Hua believed that with everything she could. Qing would have been proud, wouldn’t have blamed or hated her. She couldn’t have.


    Hua wouldn’t believe in a world where Qing could be disappointed in her for doing this.


    “What did you do to that boy?”


    She followed her mother’s intent and found her staring through the haze at the Sealord. Boy was… an interesting way to talk to someone in their twilight years. He was keeping a wary eye but pretending he wasn’t. His prosthetic fist kept clenching until he remembered to release it. The cycle of it was consistent in a way only something artificial could achieve.


    “He made me do his busy work. Used me like a piece on the weiqi board and thought all my moves were free. I told him what would happen now that he’d used up my patience.”


    Grandmother nodded. “Don’t ride the leopard unless you’re willing to lose your face.”


    “You’re not upset? I thought he was your friend.”


    “Oh no, I don’t like him that much. Well, I find him both entertaining and useful. A rare combination. But I have replacements for most people I find useful and the Sealord is no exception. It would be more irritating now, given all that’s occurred, but I could find someone in a week. I wouldn’t mind taking direct control over his venture and giving our Clan greater control of the river sharing our name, so you have my blessing if you need to kill him.”


    “So, I could have just killed him and saved myself the effort of negotiating with him?”


    “And in the process, you came up with a reasonable plan to break his monopoly. One that would see us with more influence than a direct power grab. Don’t worry, I’ll have my people make sure Zhang Pi lives. I wouldn’t want your first scheme to come to nothing.”


    “Thank you.”


    “Don’t thank me yet, I’ll expect you to see it through to the end.”