The light that summoned Qing Liao and Amami Yoko past the great metal doorway came from a series of large cut stones set into small alcoves in the walls of the vast chamber that opened outward from the portal. This strange illumination pulsed and flickered erratically. Far from bright but more than enough to see by, especially to cultivator eyes, it bathed everything in bizarre colors and shadows.

The chamber itself was, like the complex above, pentagonal in organization. Walls of bare stone and mortar, five meters on a side, formed the boundaries. Unlike the rest of the complex, it was not empty.

A raised stone slab, knee-high, occupied the center of the space. Its circular edges were covered by complex inscriptions, white and green and positioned perfectly to guide the gathered power of the formation. The rise was shaped and crafted perfectly straight and smooth, but what rested atop it was a very different sort of stone. Bulbous and irregular, but flattened on the lower surface, it had never been touched by hammer or chisel. Roughly a meter on a side, and equally high, it was the core of the formation. The strange qi of the complex sourced unerringly to this strange rock.

Liao instantly recognized it for what it was, what it could only be. "A star stone." A meteorite; a stone fallen from the Heavens. The bizarre, unrecognizable qi suddenly made perfect sense, for this was a chunk of reality from beyond the earth itself.

A potent discovery, and also a grim one. Lying in front of the massive meteorite, which the cultivator estimated weighed at least ten tons, where a pair of corpses. They were perfectly preserved, as if two men had simply fallen asleep suddenly, but the absence of vital qi was not something any cultivator could possibly miss so close. No wounds marked the bodies, nor did any impact mar the exquisitely crafted lamellar armor or flared helmets each man wore. The spears still clasped in unmoving hands were sharp and unbroken.

Their deaths had not come in battle.

Before Liao's eyes could finish narrowing in the face of this disturbing tableau, a voice rang out from the rear of the great chamber. "You recognize it," the words were aged, cultured, and full of casual authority. One who spoke from a position of power and expected obedience, the perfect echo of every grand elder Liao had ever met save for one aspect, this voice belonged to a man.

"Ah, yes," there was a careful pause, considered and measured for maximal subtle impact. "I see it now. You are a practitioner of Orday's teachings. Well, it would seem that one of those careless little orphans she gathered to her skirts must have survived. Tenacious of them, I must admit."

Liao's eyes found their way to the rear of the room at the expense of a single broad step to the side. Behind the meteorite, at the furthest vertex of the pentagon, there was the source of these potent phrases. Waiting there was a meter high plinth formed from a single immense quartz crystal, one perfectly clear and emanating a bright glow from within.

Inside the boundaries of that miraculously refined matrix an image, one startlingly clear and lifelike, moved and gestured.

It resolved between the flashes of green as the figure of an immortal. He resembled an ordinary man of typical build. His clothing was utterly unremarkable, a milk white ankle-length robe bound by a brown sash at the waist. Tattoos, intricate geometric designs similar to those found coating his door, covered the back of his hands and wrists and Liao suspected they covered the whole of the body beneath the cloth barrier. His hair, milky white and colorless, was long but tied up in a topknot behind his head. Though his skin possessed the same milk-white shade as his robes, his face and body were otherwise ordinary. He might have been any elder with little care for fashionable presentation.

Save for the eyes.

Those were perfect ovals of pure black. Lidless, devoid of eyebrows, they offered no access of any kind to the man beneath their light-consuming surfaces. A perfect barrier to observation of the countless furious thoughts that burned within that mind. A presentation well-suited to the character of Shingo, the once and, it seemed, current master of the Endless Mysteries Sect.

"A remnant soul," Liao whispered, recognizing what this man could only be. Somehow the quartz crystal, and a closer examination revealed that the surface was inscribed with thousands of tiny symbols etched into the pure and colorless structure, allowed him to interact with the chamber hosting his soul and even to see and speak. That was not, according to all Liao knew of remnant souls – and he knew considerably more than most – possible.

It seemed the title of mysteries in the sect's name was anything but idle.

"A regrettable truth," Shingo noted. He did not sound disappointed at this. "It appears Orday's orphans taught you well, disciple. Expected, but something of a pity. I had hopes anyone who made their way here in due time would be more interesting." Black ovals shifted to the right and turned the full force of their empty regard upon Amami Yoko. "And it seems those wishes were answered. Welcome, my dear, to the heart of the Endless Mysteries. I am Shingo, leader of our now sadly depleted ranks, and one who has the honor to stand but a single step under heaven."

"Arrogant wretch," Sayaana's voice intruded into Liao's thoughts in mirror to his own unspoken discontent. The false humility of the remnant soul's words did little to obscure this man's choice to describe his cultivation to the seventh layer of the celestial ascendancy realm in the most self-aggrandizing way possible.

"Amami Yoko, of the Great Waves Sect." The refugee warrior answered the unspoken challenge bluntly. Her body was held tight. Fingers wrapped and clenched around the hilts of her swords.

"Curious, that sect is unknown to me," Shingo sounded genuinely fascinated by this anomaly. "I thought I knew the names of every sect in the world. You, young lady, are clearly of the blood of the Sunfire Islands. And yet," the conscious musing of the remnant soul charmed and compelled, holding all who listened to it within the seductive trance cadence of a snake charmer. "Your qi is ocean-soaked. Well then," a pale hand rose up and stroked the milk-shaded chin slowly, matching time with each syllable. "It would appear that at least one of the desperate schemes to take shelter beneath the waves succeeded. I must say, that is a most unexpected outcome. A true surprise, such a rare thing, but in this case a most welcome one."

He fell silent then, studying the pair of disciples with merciless voids in place of eyes that Liao found he could not meet for more than a moment. Thankfully, it was possible to stare at the top of the quartz plinth, above Shingo's skull, while still looking in the remnant soul's direction. "What is this place?" he somehow found, in the empty air, the courage to demand an answer. "Why are your lands choked with death?"

"A failed experiment," Shingo shrugged. He seemed amused rather than disturbed by the question. "Like so many, it was an effort to win the war by utilizing the powers unlocked during the development of the demon plague without the sacrifice of one's autonomy that red wrath demands. The plague's nature makes it clear that qi can be absorbed and converted into cultivation strength. I sought to accomplish the same transformation and, in the process, trigger my ascension. Unfortunately, the effort was still nearing completion when the Entwining Blight attacked."

The remnant soul stroked his chin once more and his pale mouth, for his lips possessed no more color than the rest of his skin, twisted into a fearsome scowl. "I believe that wretched traitor knew what I was planning. I was forced to trigger the formation prematurely and to divert its power to pathetic automatons rather than taking it to challenge heaven." Fury spiked through those words, hatred that thousands of years had not abated in the least. Calm, however, restored swiftly, the immortal displaying firm mastery of his emotions. "A most regrettable outcome, truly, but I learned a great deal. I am quite certain that I could complete the process, now, given a suitable supply of vital qi."

Liao quailed as he came to understand just what this man, this immortal, had confessed to doing. That Shingo displayed not even the slightest sign of guilt or desperation made it far worse. His jaw dropped open, but in the time it took him to scramble for a suitably furious accusation, the woman to his right reacted with greater speed and indignation.

"You killed thousands as part of a failed experiment?" Amami Yoko practically spat. "The strong are granted authority by right of strength, but this is paired with their duty to the weak!" The final words were indeed flecked with spittle, and the water cultivator's body shook visibly, every muscle on the edge of springing into violent motion.

"Are they?" The genuine, idle, curiosity in Shingo's voice was far more terrifying than any denial would have been. "Well, it matters not, I can concede the point. I fought in my sect's defense regardless, and died for it. My motives are irrelevant. As for the residents, well, yes, the activation of the formation claimed eight hundred and forty thousand lives, but there was no winning that battle. They would all have been turned into demons otherwise. A true assessment of the outcome is that I denied the enemy considerable numbers. This way, their qi continues to fight on the side of humanity, even if it is rather inefficient."

"Eight hundred thousand?" Liao could only stare at the black ovals, fear erased by shock. It was, perhaps, not massive in terms of the populations supporting old world sects, but the number remained startling in absolute terms. So many people, slaughtered in such a callous manner, their entire world snuffed out in an act of singular obliteration that drew on a power taken from the lightless places between the stars.

For the meteorite lying at the center of the formation was, he knew absolutely, the key to unlocking such a storm of deadly qi.

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"A loss, I admit," the admission carried no guilt, no regret, only disappointment. "And the isolation it enforced, locking the war beyond my reach, well, it has certainly served to keep visitors away. I confess, I did not expect that anyone still survived. This is a joyous day, one full of opportunity.

Instinctively, Liao's hackles rose at those words. Remnant soul this man might be, but his ability to affect the world was far greater than anything that had seemed possible for such an entity mere moments previous.

As if in response to those thoughts the massive metal door slid closed behind them. Perfectly smooth, its motion made no sound until the seal connected. Liao turned back at the same moment as Amami Yoko. Expressions hardened as they realized they'd been locked within. The door could not stop them permanently but opening it again would not be swift.

"Now then," Shingo's white lips twisted in a terrifying smile. He sounded incredibly pleased; his greed unveiled in full. "There are several possibilities regarding what happens next. These range from the truly glorious in their mutual benefit to the desultory and wasteful for all. Shall we run through them from start to finish, beginning with the ideal?"

"Why don't you start with the worst?" Amami Yoko threw her regrets at him with raised swords behind them. Anger radiated out from her, directed anywhere and everywhere.

"Very well," Shingo snapped his fingers. The sharp sound of it echoed across the chamber. "Perhaps the establishment of boundaries will ease negotiations."

Liao's eyes widened in horror as the two corpses lying in front of the meteorite stood up, moving just as smoothly as the armored men might have done while living. "Soul puppetry," he whispered, and stared at these controlled cultivator corpses in surprise and fear. That terror grew materially when the pair of corpse puppets leveled their spears with smooth and practiced motions.

"Taro and Toru, sworn brothers, masters of the mysteries of killing, and formerly elders in the third layer of the soul forging realm." The remnant soul announced this with satisfaction so broad that it degraded into maddened glee. "In life, my bodyguards, a position they hold still. Lest you are considering combat," the smiling face with beneath lidless black voids distorted in triumphant anticipation. "Their current circumstance reduces their power immensely. They barely qualify as equal to one in the spirit tempering realm now, but against you two I'm afraid the balance of forces lies absolutely in my favor. Well then," he stroked his chin once again.

"You wanted to know the worst outcome? It's quite simple. I will have the brothers here kill you and then, using the power of this chamber, make soul puppets of your remains. However, that is a tragically wasteful outcome. I do not really need additional puppets, given that they will not increase my reach. It is my genuine hope that we can come to an agreement that offers greater mutual benefit. Your lives are in my hands, truly, but that does not mean I cannot be accommodating. We have a number of goals in common after all."

"What sort of better use?" Liao tried to keep his voice level, though it was hard to avoid sneering at a being that opened negotiations without offering any option that included the other party's survival. His eyes hunted through the room, searching for some measure of escape or evasion. The empty space, with only the deadly meteorite within, offered nothing. He recognized this as an essential aspect of the trap a moment later and cursed that he'd missed it.

"Well," Shingo stroked his chin further. "Are the two of you familiar with the nature of remnant souls?" Without pausing to await an answer, he continued with white lips smiling wickedly. "I am presently without a body. My soul remains confined to this chunk of quartz. A circumstance greatly superior to the void of death, but obviously rather limiting. In this state I am unable to utilize even the least fraction of my powers. I have control in this space, but no further. Even the formation, potent as it is, functions autonomously."

Liao did not find this confident speech, with its implicit assumption that they could not escape, comforting.

"My greatest desire is to escape this state, to take up my work again in the flesh, in the fullness of my strength," the remnant continued, amiable and charming throughout. Though the empty voids in place of his eyes stole away any comfort his speech might have otherwise offered. "However, in order to make that possible, I require a body."

There it was. The threat that Liao had expected from the start. One he had long been warned against in regard to Sayaana, the attempt by a lost soul to steal a body from an unaware and unprotected cultivator. He did not, however, understand why Shingo had not simply attacked and attempted to claim this resource from the start.

"I should like to negotiate for one from either of the two of you," the remnant soul concluded.

"You expect us to barter away our lives?" It was Amami Yoko, openly incensed, who spoke first. "Spirit, why do you not strike?" Her swords rose up in cross position before her face. "I am ready."

"Awareness integration realm, the second layer," Shingo pointed a pale finger at Qing Liao. "And the sixth." He moved to Amami Yoko. "I am far, far stronger than either of you, but the soul, in its home flesh, represents an almost inviolable fortress. An attempt to simply seize your bodies through force of dao would simply kill you and likely degrade my cultivation besides. I know this to be true, the sect conducted numerous careful trials."

"Monster," Sayaana whispered across the edges of Liao's skull. He felt the bile rise in his throat in sympathetic tandem with that curse.

"But if you surrender your existence willingly, well, then the result is very different," Shingo's image leaned forward, and his milky expression became twisted through great hunger, a starving man before a feast. "And truthfully, is there nothing you desire that is worth your life? I stand in the seventh layer of the celestial ascendancy realm, and my mind contains countless ancient secrets known to no other. I possess the power to realize any dream you might possess, and I am prepared to swear a sovereign vow upon my dao to devote myself to that effort. Surely there is something you seek that an immortal's power could realize." Empty black voids turned from one cultivator to the next.

"Hmph," Shingo grunted. "Of course, the little star-spawn underling offers nothing. Orday was ever a ridiculously sanctimonious woman." The dark glare focused on the blue-and-white clad woman instead. "But you are different. I can read the despair and suffering written in your qi. You are not beneath the waves anymore, young lady, you are here, which means your land, your sect, has fallen. All that you once knew has been destroyed or consumed by the plague. A sad story, and an all too common one. It must be hard, struggling on as the only one to survive."

The level of seemingly genuine sympathy Shingo was able to infuse into those words stunned Liao. If the remnant soul's feeling were purely an affectation, his skill at disassembly was incredible, a thing shaped even into his qi. Which was worse, fantastic deception or true empathy, Liao could not have said.

"Vengeance, the desire to punish the plague, that is all that sustains you now, is it not?" Shingo inquired softly.

Amami Yoko answered with a single curt nod, and Liao's heart sank. He could not deny Shingo's observation, not after having witnessed the water cultivator's inclination to perish in battle, but seeing such a thing expressed openly remained a raw wound.

"I can give you vengeance, cull the plague far beyond what those two swords could ever achieve. Even demonic cultivators will fall before me, in the fullness of my strength." Shingo stretched out a hand, palm up, and smiled. "Simple and easy, is it not?"

In reply, Amami Yoko turned and looked at Liao. He jerked in surprise at this motion. "Who is the strongest member of the Celestial Origin Sect?" She demanded suddenly, abrupt and uncompromising.

"Iay," Liao answered this at once, a thing every child in Mother's Gift knew. "Eldest of the Twelve Sisters."

"And her strength?" the follow up was swift and sure.

"Seventh layer of the celestial ascendancy realm," Liao grasped the intent of this inquiry at last. "And the sect holds fifteen other immortals," he added with swift emphasis. "Including Artemay, who is in the sixth layer."

"Then I have pledged myself to a greater power already," she turned away and revolved back around to face Shingo once more. Bowing, she addressed the remnant soul formally. "My apologies honored elder, it is with great regret that I must refuse you. My service is promised to a lord of superior domain."

"It seems you have inherited the uncompromising and foolishly obstinate nature of your sword sect ancestors. How typically short-sighted," Shingo's hands clenched, and his lips twisted in barely suppressed rage. "But, I will show you the nature of superiority. I am prepared to compromise where you are not. You, star-spawn archer," black voids shifted to look upon Liao. "You intend to take this woman back to whatever refuge Orday's children possess. Swear upon your dao to bring me as well, and I will spare you both. In due course, I will find one willing to serve as my host. Surely your sect would not refuse the aid of one who possesses strength such as I. That is a fate far superior to a pointless death."

Liao froze. Shingo's words were not, he knew, entirely honest, but neither were they wholly lies. After all, he wore the evidence upon his brow. Sayaana had never tried to seize his soul, nor had the grand elders suggested she make the attempt, but to find a cultivator somewhere in the sect drenched in despair such that they would make that choice willingly, it was not impossible. Not with centuries to wait and the difficulties attendant to the cultivator's path. Eventually, perhaps soon, perhaps after an age, this man would live again.

A man who had killed nearly one million people as part of an experiment to force ascension. A man who, Liao was absolutely certain, would do the same thing again and again until he either succeeded or the Heavens ripped him apart. A piece of the old world whose twisted ambitions left a scar upon the earth that not even twenty-seven centuries had sufficed to heal.

No, he decided, sudden but firm. That price, it was not worth the strength this man might offer. His presence would shatter the sect's unity, cripple its great strength, and in time threaten the survival of humanity. All that he promised, power, gain, vengeance. These things were nothing more than traps, and Liao was good at spotting where those waited.

Yet he said nothing in rejection of the offer. Shingo had discerned one thing at least that held absolutely true. Liao was not prepared to die a pointless death. Not for the sake of keeping this man from infecting Mother's Gift, perhaps not for anything. A worrisome revelation, touching on the essential nature of the soul and his dao as it did, but a true one.

Sayaana, unexpectedly and unprompted, supplied a path that allowed them to cut free from this trap. "Get me to him. Touch the crystal and I can end this."

Many times, Qing Liao had trusted the green woman with his life. To trust her with his soul now, to take the word of one remnant over another, was the easiest thing in the world.

His muscles clenched. He stared at the two puppets and their ready spears, gauging the distance. The path, suspended upon lines of invisible light, opened in his mind's eye. Doable, if only a single obstacle were removed.

There was no time to explain, no means to convey the plan, but Amami Yoko had sworn herself to his service. Though it hurt him, a shock conveyed against the core of his will, he pulled hard upon that oath now as he stared at the corpse puppet of Toru that stood before her.

"Attack!" he shouted the order even as he flashed forward in a surge of rapid steps.

Swords whirling, the warrior of the Great Waves Sect threw herself without hesitation into a battle she could not win.

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