Corrupted Crimson

by Patrick Laplante

  Master Zhen’s golden soul dulled, and with this sacrifice, the golden glow inside the pearls grew in power and tore apart Sibi’s scripture-like vestment. Sibi howled in anguish as he quickened his offensive. He slashed at Master Zhen’s weak body with claws coated in crimson corruption. It invaded the older man’s soul and eroded it one piece at a time.

  “Ksitigarbha, grant me your blessing,” Master Zhen intoned as he ignored the pain. “Let your unfettered goodness send this evil spirit back to the cycle of reincarnation where it belongs.” The 10,080 pearls flew out toward Sibi’s crimson body and burned into his corrupted flesh. Sibi could only stop his offensive to defend against the golden rosary.

  Master Zhen coughed up a mouthful of blood and tightened his fist, causing the pearls to dig into Sibi’s crimson skin. They ate away at his body until all that remained was a golden skeleton and a weak crimson soul.

  “Congratulations on destroying this useless body,” the crimson soul said. It sounded nothing like Sibi. “Your lifespan has been significantly weakened. Meanwhile, I will enjoy the next fifty thousand years of existence. If I accumulate enough karma, I could even transcend and enjoy eternity.”

  “You won’t live that long,” Master Zhen said weakly. “The World Tree Master won’t let you live.”

  “That old fart?” the evil spirit said. “By the time he gets here, I’ll be long gone. Any last words?” The golden skeleton’s fist clenched. Sibi’s evil spirit could control the remnant body like a corpse puppet.

  “One of us will kill you,” Master Zhen said. “If not me, then someone else will take up the mantle.”

  Crimson tendrils shot out toward the older monk, who activated the teleportation sigil that had been branded onto his inner arm. The evil spirit, sensing the fluctuations in the surrounding space, rushed out to land a killing blow. A crimson talon slashed out toward Master Zhen, leaving a deep gash on his chest as space lurched and brought him back to the temple.

  Master Zhen woke up in a cold sweat. It’s all in the past, he thought, reaching out to the 10,080 beads around his neck. The lustrous golden pearls were blessed by the will of his predecessors. He too would bless it before reentering the cycle of reincarnation.

  He rose from his bed and walked outside. It was hours before dawn, but most of the monks had already woken to perform their daily tasks. Both monks and animals bowed their heads in respect as he walked across the bridge and arrived at the Bodhi Tree.

  “My old friend,” Master Zhen muttered to the ancient tree. “It’s time.”

  Yama, the Lord of the Underworld, was seated at a small golden table in the middle of a large temple. He didn’t like it here—the monks were preachy and insufferable. Which was why, a few aeons ago, he’d placed a ban on door-to-door preaching. Ksitigarbha had been less than pleased, but his ire was a small price to pay for never having to hear the famous words, “May I please come in to discuss our lord and savior, Ksitigarbha?”

  Speaking of which, this particular buddha was seated before him serving tea. He poured gently and without a word, using tea grown in his own backyard. Yama recognized this as a recent fad—meditation through tea drinking. They had been at it for ten Underworld days, and even Yama was beginning to lose patience.

  As though sensing the man’s volcanic temper, Ksitigarbha banished the tea set. “How do you feel? Are you one step closer to enlightenment? Has a small bit of karma faded?”

  “My karma binds me to the universe for all eternity,” Yama said wryly. “I doubt a few cups of tea will make a difference. Besides, you’re making us sound estranged, like a preacher and his clergy. Why, it only seems like yesterday that we last spoke.”

  Ksitigarbha raised his eyebrow. “We haven’t spoken in aeons.”

  “Which passed by in the blink of an eye,” Yama said. “Surely you can forgive a man for his moment of foolishness?”

  Ksitigarbha sighed. “What do you want? You are never this pleasant unless you want something.”

  “Well, you see, I’m in a very difficult position,” Yama explained. “The Yellow River is overflowing, and I’m very shorthanded. Heaven and hell have been poaching my talent, and I’ve been left scrambling as I try to salvage the cycle of reincarnation. Therefore, I am supporting a candidate for mayor to push for tax reforms.”

  “You know I don’t involve myself in politics,” Ksitigarbha said dismissively. “Politics breed more attachment than sweets and loving promises. Political discussions have ruined more friendships than all other causes combined.”

  “I understand that,” Yama said. “However, I have no choice. I need supporters, and the monks in your church live forever. You have so many of them.”

  “And why would I have them perform such senseless actions like voting?” Ksitigarbha said. “We all know it’s a money game in the end.”

  “I…” Yama said, gritting his teeth, almost vomiting in the process. “I can end the ban.” The ancient man’s croak was barely audible in the quiet monastery.

  “What?” Ksitigarbha said, his face finally showing a trace of emotion. “The ban that you should never have instated in the first place? The ban that us benevolent monks could only passively accept? Meanwhile, you allowed those petty door-to-door preachers with pocket scriptures to move unhindered in the Underworld, converting countless souls in the process.”

  “That’s different!” Yama said. “All they’re trying to do is tell people to be nice to each other so that they go to Heaven when they pass away. It’s rather harmless if you think about it.”

  “And how exactly is it different?” Ksitigarbha asked. “We tell our people to be nice, and they actually do it with no karma attached.”

  “It’s very different,” Yama said solemnly. “Your followers were swelling out of control. Their preaching was emptying out the Underworld. Every soul that comes here is precious and rare. They stay for as long as their destiny allows it. However, you were convincing them to forcibly sever their karma with the Underworld and reincarnate. My workforce was getting decimated, and I was at my wit’s end!”

  “And now you’re willing to reconsider,” Ksitigarbha said. “All for the sake of winning an election.”

  “All for the sake of the cycle of reincarnation!” Yama yelled. “I do what must be done for our universe, without fail. In return for the votes of your clergy, I will allow you to preach door to door once more. However, it must be within reason. I won’t have preachers visiting the same door dozens of times every day like last time. In addition, your clergy cannot exceed more than ten percent of the Underworld’s population at any point in time.”

  “It’s a start,” Ksitigarbha said. “I imagine you’ll have to allow evil spirits to start preaching again as well?”

  “Don’t remind me,” Yama said, massaging his temples. “Truth be told, I would decimate the lot of them if I could do it without being punished by the cosmos.”

  “Might I make a suggestion?” Ksitigarbha said. “Now, I would never encourage you to do something dishonest, but I recall the Underworld’s bureaucracy being notoriously slow. If their application for a preaching permit was to be delayed by ten thousand Underworld years, it would save us both quite a few headaches.”

  Yama’s eyes lit up. “In fact, I’ve heard that some permits require up to 100,000 or a million years to get approved. Applications get lost, and trivial paperwork errors get made. Better yet, there is nothing they can do about it.”

  “Then we are in agreement,” Ksitigarbha said while escorting Yama out of the premises. The faces of his followers were burning with fervent passion—it was obvious that Ksitigarbha had already informed them of the deal. Seeing that unmistakable gleam in their eyes, Yama secretly contacted Cerberus and sent him an employment offer. If there was anything a preacher hated, it was a vicious guard dog standing between him and a heathen’s door.

  “By the way, I’ve noticed some strange movements in the mortal realms,” Ksitigarbha said. “It seems the evil spirits are making a play.
Meanwhile, there have been some anomalies in your cycle of reincarnation. You should look into the reincarnation edicts you’ve issued recently.”

  Yama paused thoughtfully. “I think I’ll do just that.”

  Then, eyeing the leaflet that had suddenly appeared in his pushy friend’s hands, he promptly vanished.

  Chapter 1: Value

  Songjing City’s walls cast a large shadow outside the gates. For centuries, these walls had defended the city from enemy invasions and beast tides. Although their robust military and well-placed fortresses had rendered these walls useless, their symbolism remained. The kingdom would never fall so long as they stood strong.

  To Cha Ming, it was a godsend, but for a different reason than fortification. His furred and feathered companions now spoke in hushed whispers. They couldn’t help but occasionally glance at the large structure and quiet down whenever they got too loud.

  “Why are you so afraid of walls?” Cha Ming asked as they waited for Wang Jun to return.

  “We do not speak their names aloud,” Huxian whispered. “They are only mentioned in bedtime stories to scare newborn cubs. Every beast inherits memories of these atrocities. We remember millions of corpses and rivers of blood. Hordes of beasts collapsing under a flood of arrows as they pawed helplessly against unbreachable structures.” Huxian shook his head mournfully. “We are fully aware that we have the strength to break them, but when we attempt to do so, we can’t help but be paralyzed with fear. We are helpless against them.”

  Cha Ming looked up at the gate thoughtfully. “Will you be all right?

  “We’ll stomach it,” Huxian said. “It’s not so bad in smaller courtyards and buildings. It only gets out of hand with the more massive structures.” He eyed the gatehouse cautiously.

  Cha Ming scratched the tiny fox’s ears to alleviate his worries. They spotted a blond-haired figure walking out of the city gates.

  “They are so well behaved compared to the journey over,” Wang Jun said cheerfully as he approached them. He handed Cha Ming three golden collars covered in black runes. “They shouldn’t feel like anything more than regular collars,” Wang Jun said. “They are purely cosmetic, with functions that falsely identify the wearer as a tamed beast.”

  Huxian walked up and stuck his head inside the first collar, which shrunk until the runes turned crimson. “Any change?” Cha Ming asked.

  “Nope,” Huxian replied. “And it comes with a built-in portable meat locker. Come on, guys, put these on so we can get out of this atrocious shadow.”

  His companions followed with uncharacteristic haste. They led the way toward the gates, making Cha Ming wonder if they knew even what tamed beasts were.

  “The collars can grow up to a width of fifty feet if required,” Wang Jun said as they walked. “Any bigger, and they’ll fall off. The cost was outrageous since they had to mimic core treasures.”

  “Add it to my tab,” Cha Ming said. “I’ll find a way to earn money quickly.”

  “Ah, what’s money between us?” Wang Jun said. “Besides, you don’t need to worry about finding odd jobs. I already have a list of formations I need you to build. Soon, I’ll be the one owing you money.”

  The registration process went smoothly. The guards collected a qi imprint and registered the beast’s abilities—the ones they chose to reveal, at least—before sending them on their way. Cha Ming would be liable for any damages they caused in the city. His heart cringed in anticipation of a gigantic bill.

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a decent meal,” Wang Jun said as he led them to the center of the city. “Let’s make our first stop the Dragon’s Claws. It’s the best restaurant with private rooms in the city.”

  The oppressive heat baked the four road-weary travelers as they passed unfamiliar buildings. There were similarities between Songjing and Quicksilver—the Jade Bamboo Auction House kept its plain decoration and bamboo garden while the commodity exchange maintained its massive stone construction. The Blacksmith Association and the Alchemists Association shared a common look with their Quicksilver counterparts, though unlike Quicksilver, the stores here were unusually cluttered with high- and low-leveled cultivators alike.

  There was no Geomancer Guild. The Spirit Doctor Association was also very different than Cha Ming remembered from his short stay in Quicksilver. A small group of commoners were lined up to receive treatment along with the cultivators. The building was also far less opulent than Quicksilver’s.

  “There’s no Talisman Artist Guild?” Cha Ming asked.

  “There is, but they aren’t located in Central Square,” Wang Jun replied. “They are too small, and their members are lacking. Plus they don’t have any qualified instructors, which greatly limits their potential. I’ve always wondered what the Talisman Artist Guild’s top brass is thinking by allowing it to exist.”

  After passing a few more buildings, they entered a large marble building where they were greeted by a gust of cool air.

  “A legitimate use of refrigeration runes,” Cha Ming commented. “The heat out there is unbearable.”

  “Air cooling is a must in this city,” Wang Jun said. “The weather here makes me wonder whether the royal family descended from dragons.”

  “The royalty is naturally descended from dragons,” a soft voice said. The speaker was a pale, skinny man in black robes with a cheerful demeanor. He accompanied a well-dressed man wearing black armor and a black-and-gold cape. Dozens of figures in red-and-gold cloaks were also present.

  Both Zhou Li’s and the black-and-gold-caped man’s souls were excessively strong; they repelled the light probing from Cha Ming’s resplendent soul, something only possible if they were core-formation cultivators.

  “The royal family’s crest is that of a five-clawed dragon,” Zhou Li continued. “The national history books teach that the Song Dynasty’s first emperor, Song Di, could partially transform his body and manifest claws and scales.”

  Wang Jun stepped up and bowed at the man beside Zhou Li. Cha Ming followed his lead.

  “Crown Prince,” Wang Jun said. “It is always a pleasure meeting you. How fares His Majesty? And has your favorite dog, Zhou Li, been behaving?” He had completely ignored Zhou Li's presence and chosen to address the more important person in the room.

  The crown prince’s face twitched. “Unfortunately, my royal father’s condition worsens with each passing day. As his health declines, I find myself increasingly busy. I imagine it’s only a matter of time until I’m no longer allowed to leave the palace.”

  “I wish His Majesty all the best,” Wang Jun replied. “Both for the kingdom and your quality of life.”

  “My freedom and quality of life come secondary,” the crown prince said. “Both the kingdom and I would be overjoyed if my father’s condition improved.” He then glanced at Cha Ming and gave him a short nod. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Du. Your reputation as the youngest mid-grade formation master on the continent precedes you.”

  Cha Ming bowed to the prince with clasped hands. “This one’s talents are not worth mentioning. I can only affect a few people, while your own work impacts the lives of everyone in the Song Kingdom.”

  “If I become half the man my father has been, the kingdom will be in good hands,” the crown prince said. “Now if you will excuse me, we must head back to attend an important council meeting.”

  As his group moved to leave, Zhou Li walked up to Huxian. The black-and-white fox bared his teeth and held his ears back, the universal sign of displeasure among animals.

  “Be a good dog and eat this,” Zhou Li said as he suddenly tossed a small string of gristly meat.” Before Cha Ming could warn him, Huxian ate it on reflex. Zhou Li smirked. “I might be a dog, but at least I behave myself in front of my master. This one just does whatever he wants.”

  Cha Ming glared at Zhou Li’s retreating figure and walked up to Huxian; he looked at him worriedly for any abnormal signs.

  You can’t just eat anythin
g he gives you, Cha Ming said. What if it’s poison?

  Relax, Huxian sent back. I can eat anything under the sun. What’s a little poison to a Godbeast like me? Even the Geomantic Boa couldn’t poison me if it tried.

  Cha Ming sighed in relief. “It should be fine,” he said to Wang Jun, who nodded and led them to a private room.

  A short while later, Huxian and Silverwing were fighting over large pieces of meat while Lei Jiang ate seeds and magical herbs. Cha Ming ate his vegetables while Wang Jun ate a bit of everything. Cha Ming let out a satisfied burp at the end of the meal. It had been weeks since he’d last eaten, and while eating was optional at this point, it had psychological benefits to a cultivator who had once required three meals a day.

  Following their meal, Wang Jun had the restaurant staff bring a tea set and three large bowls. He poured three small pouches of red powder inside each bowl before the waitstaff poured buckets of hot water inside them.

  “These small pouches contain an herbal blend that demon beasts appreciate in the same way humans appreciate tea,” Wang Jun explained. “I call it Demon Soothing Tea.” True to its name, Huxian and his two friends mellowed down considerably as they lapped it up.

  “Just this peace and quiet is worth it,” Cha Ming said with a sigh. “Please order some for me in bulk once you get a chance.”

  “Not a problem,” Wang Jun said. “You might not know this, but formation masters are a hot commodity in large cities. It’s a rare occupation, and unlike talismans, formations have prolonged effects that can affect an entire clan’s prosperity.”

  “Regrettably, I only studied offensive formations in Quicksilver,” Cha Ming said. “Permanent formations aren’t my forte.”

  “That’s easy to resolve,” Wang Jun said. “A few days ago, I had Elder Bai procure some single-use formation scrolls and mid-grade formation flags.”