The days blurred, threaded with salt-wind and stillness. For the next week I rose before the crew to cultivate the vorpal retrieval skill. "Baby steps, start small" I said as I focused into my spirit man. I walked around the cabin in Spirit Man form, flickering through wall and wood like a ghost with unfinished business. Looking down I observed a small thimble resting atop a folded cloth. "That's pretty Small" I said, it was nothing special. No chi sheen. No runes. Just… a test.
I stared at it with deep concentration and let my animus flow in soft pulses through my spirit fingers, but when I tried to lift the thimble, it barely twitched.
Clink.
Wobble.
I let it Settle, then tried again.
Then again
And again.
'Clink. Clink.'
Again.
'Clink.'
"Damn thing might as well be a mountain," I muttered. Felicity was nowhere in sight, but I could feel her watching—from somewhere deeper. Somewhere red. I paused and considered, "I'm trying to do this with my qi but maybe its Intent that's the secret." It wasn't about qi or precision or flow. It was about Intent, want, need. I steadied my breath. Let the flickering tension fade from my jaw. I thought not of the thimble—but what I needed from it. What it meant to take something back. To own it. To claim the unreachable. I reached for the thimble but this time with Intent, I wanted it.
"Clink"
I felt an odd sensation at my finger tips!
It rose.
Only an inch. But it rose. Floated for a second. Then dropped.
I exhaled, chest hollowed by victory.
Below the Skin
Deep inside, beneath flesh and marrow, Felicity stirred.
She floated in the nutrient-rich currents of my inner world, her form semi-fluid, a network of blood-vine tendrils pulsing in fractal loops around her core. She held the Sun God Dew Drop like a melting jewel in her chest cavity.
It bled sunlight through her, it's incredible yang essence promising to bring her closer to her evolutionary bottle neck break through.
A Blood Phageal.
Above, I celebrated lifting a thimble.
Below, Felicity absorbed and cultivated from the stored yang essence of the Sun God Dew.
Sixth Night of the voyage.
I lay soaked in sweat.
I practiced the vorpal retrieval skill now in short bursts—lifting coins, reclaiming a stolen mug from a gambling crewman through the wall, and even snatching the quill from the quartermaster's belt mid-sentence. But Felicity… was cultivating even faster. Her heat rose through my spine. Her cultivation made my vertebra itch. Glyphs I hadn't cultivated appeared in the back of my mind, flashing with knowledge not my own. Symbols that felt carnivorous. I went to the port hole and seen an Island in the far distance, an idea formed just then.
The island drifted off the port bow like a sleeping beast—barely a mile wide, covered in silverleaf and thorn brush, its beaches dark with volcanic sand.
We hadn't stopped. No anchor drop. No rowboats.
But I could see it.
And more importantly… I could feel it.
A single flower caught my Spiritual senses—growing near the ridge, framed by crooked black rocks. Its petals shimmered violet and gold, a flower I didn't recognize.
It pulsed faintly in my vision, wrapped in a gossamer chi signature that wanted to be noticed. I let my spirit man unfold again.
I speeded along the surface of the ocean, 300 feet… 1,000… 2,500…the distance wavered and the island enlarged rapidly.
My senses were locked on the flower. I hovered before it, drifting on the windless dream of the island. The flower swayed once in welcome. I reached out.
Focus, Ash. This isn't about touching it. Its about wanting it.
Own it.
I focused my Intent, cradling—not yanking no brute force.
Just finesse.
And then—
shzzzzzp
The flower vanished from the island. And appeared in my palm, still damp with mist, still whole. Real. Alive. My eyes opened slowly. My breathing ragged. The flower lay in my hand, pulsing faintly. A bridge had been crossed. Up my spine, Felicity stirred. "You broke the boundary," her voice whispered from beneath my ribs, silky with pride and hunger. "Distance won't protect them now." I looked down at the bloom—warm, bright, and impossibly here.
"Not anymore," I whispered back.
The Coastal Flower Kingdom rose from the sea like a painting drawn in fog and coral—stone palaces entwined with flowering vines, spires tipped in stained glass, bridges suspended between cliffs like silken threads. The air was thick with blooming incense, sweet and strange, as if the land itself disguised its intentions behind perfume.
The Crimson Typhoon cut through the bay under a white-flagged sail, its hull scarred, sails patched in places with fresh stitches. The canon battle with the Poly wags had left just enough damage to sell the illusion. At the helm, Captain Riggs stood tall, dressed not like a raider, but a beaten merchant captain. Gone was his blood-streaked coat—now he wore a somber gray jacket, unadorned, with sea charts tucked under one arm.
As the harbor bastion hailed us with flares, Riggs lifted the Voice Shell and spoke into the wind. "This is the merchant vessel Crimson Typhoon. We request mooring and port privileges. We were waylaid by pirates in the open reef route. I have Hull damage and casualties. We seek to sell rare beast meat and horn—Spire Coral Crab. Our holds are full. Repairs needed. We bring coin."
There was a long pause—then a green flare rose from the signal tower.
Permission granted.
We had permission to make port. The dock swarmed with port attendants, each wearing layered silk veils over their mouths and long curved fans at their hips. Their movements were smooth, rehearsed—elegant but alert. I stepped off the ramp second behind Riggs, my eyes sweeping the inner harbor. Soldiers in lacquered coral-plate armor stood at key intersections. Flowering trees masked crossbow nests. Bells chimed, but not a single child played in the alleys.
This was a kingdom built on beauty—but run by paranoia.
"Play it soft," Riggs muttered beside me. "They smile while weighing your throat."
By ''throat'' I took it that Riggs meant words. I gave a faint nod. "Which building's the Registry?" Riggs pointed with his chin, "Blue roof, gold bell. They'll ask for your name, not your bloodline. Lie with style."
I laughed it off casually, "When don't I?"
Felicity tasted the flower-scented wind around ash, she tasted something… familiar. Royal qi.
Pirate inheritance. Sedition stirring in the shadows of this kingdom. She licked the corner of her lips with a blade-like tongue and whispered into Ash's mind:
"She's here."