“That’s right,” Cha Ming said.
“Give me some of your luck, boy,” Iridescent Wonder said. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Iridescent Charity laughed. “Oh, how angry Iridescent Torch will be when she sees it at the competition. We absolutely must ensure that he gives a good showing.”
“What do you mean we?” Iridescent Wonder said. “He’s my student.”
“Research subject,” Cha Ming corrected.
“Whatever,” Iridescent Wonder said.
“Then are you ready to face off against an army of elders to ensure he has the ingredients he needs?” Iridescent Charity asked. “I believe your influence has waned of late.” Iridescent Wonder didn’t contradict her. “All I want in return is to study the wonderful flowing rune diagram on this cauldron. I’ve never seen a runic cauldron, only read about them. Much less such a beautiful one.”
Cha Ming felt pride from the Clear Sky Brush. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not exactly made of time,” Cha Ming said.
“Not a problem,” Iridescent Wonder said. “Surely it would be all right to craft a few pills while we offer you some direct pointers? Wouldn’t that be advantageous to your learning?”
Cha Ming hesitated. He had Sun Wukong, but the Monkey King was notoriously unhelpful. Had he ever even trained a student before? “Perhaps we can work something out,” Cha Ming said. “You’re saying that you can help me secure ingredients for the pill I’ll be crafting for the competition?”
“You’ll need to pay for them, naturally,” Iridescent Charity said. “It’s only that money isn’t the only thing you’ll need. We’ll need to trade in a few favors to make it happen. It isn’t just one elder that you upset, Clear Sky, but a good third of our elders. They’ll be out for your blood.”
Of course, Cha Ming thought. Why would things ever be easy? Still, he regretted nothing. He’d unlocked another of the Clear Sky Brush’s forms, and he could tell that she was happy. Yes, she was excited to be making things and creating things after so long asleep. Oh, what wonderful things they would do now that she’d awakened.
“It’s a deal, then,” Cha Ming said. “Thank you for helping me. Of course, Iridescent Virtue and Iridescent Tempest have been helpful. They’re welcome to study alongside us as well, if you think it will benefit their development.”
“Maybe,” Iridescent Wonder said. “She’s been slacking lately.”
“I won’t,” Iridescent Tempest said quickly. “I haven’t.”
“How exactly do I use a runic cauldron, Elder?” Cha Ming asked.
“Truth is, we don’t know,” Iridescent Wonder said. “The Kingfisher Guard might know something about it, and there might be more information in the kingdom’s capital. I have a feeling it won’t come to that, though. It’s probably a lot like a normal pill cauldron. Just more comprehensive.”
“It is a soul-bound treasure, is it not?” Iridescent Charity said. “Doesn’t that mean it will behave a lot like a demon weapon?”
“True,” Iridescent Wonder said. “It’ll probably just tell you what to do.”
Cha Ming frowned. “I don’t recall ever seeing your demon weapons, elders. What exactly are they?”
Iridescent Charity chuckled. “Did you think we became alchemists out of sheer coincidence?” She summoned a violet object. It was three meters wide, and its shape was unmistakable. “The demon weapons of everyone in this room aren’t swords or spears or glaives. We’re all alchemists because our demon weapon is a pill cauldron.”
It took a while for Cha Ming to extricate himself from the elders. After bidding Huxian and friends farewell—and taking their pill orders—he got straight to work. He was back in the Clear Sky World enjoying fresh mountain air. Before him, the Clear Sky Cauldron was shining in the artificial sunlight. Or was it artificial? Cha Ming realized that somehow, the Clear Sky World had gained its own sun.
The Clear Sky Cauldron looked like it was made of a pure soul alloy, unaligned to any specific element and changeable in many ways. For example, if Cha Ming wished it, the cauldron could become bigger, allowing him to process more ingredients and multiple pills at the same time. It could also become smaller to better make use of his limited fire.
Cha Ming had never used a runic cauldron before, so he settled on a relatively simple pill. A generic enlightenment pill, the type he’d created many times to help him as he studied pill formulas. It was one of the pill formulas he’d been able to retain on his trip to the library. Armed with a stockpile of ingredients he’d obtained from Iridescent Wonder’s workshop while he waited for Huxian to gather more, he began to throw them in one at a time.
Let’s try these mind whip vines first, Cha Ming thought. It was a water- and wood-aligned plant with excess soul power. Left to its own devices, it could capture and enslave anything less than a middle-rune-carving cultivator. These thralls would spend their time killing and gathering men and beasts, converting them to fertilizer for the greedy plant.
Cha Ming first immobilized the writhing vine. It was no longer inanimate now that he’d pulled it out of its jade storage box. Normally I do this using a runic matrix, he thought. But how do I do it with this cauldron? He tried to will the usual runic pattern with his domain but saw it fizzle. The cauldron interfered with it.
“Can you help me?” Cha Ming asked the Clear Sky Cauldron. The cauldron buzzed with excitement. She sent pictures rather than words to him. Concepts rather than a detailed explanation. He pondered the fragmented information he received and pieced an explanation together. “You mean I need to channel runic matrices through you?”
She buzzed affirmatively.
“Are you talking to your cauldron?” Sun Wukong asked, appearing beside him.
“Yes, it seems the Clear Sky Brush is showing signs of sentience again,” Cha Ming said. “After I awakened this latest form.”
“Latest form?” Sun Wukong said with a frown. “The Clear Sky Brush never had forms when I had it. Nor did it talk.”
“Well, she talks now,” Cha Ming said. “Sort of. And judging how you treat people, you probably didn’t give her the respect she deserved.”
“She?” Sun Wukong asked incredulously. He sighed and shook his head. “Whatever. You need help with this thing?”
“I think I’ve figured it out,” Cha Ming said.
He put his hand on the cool outer surface of the cauldron, and the runes on the outside changed. They surrounded the mind whip vine with runes of binding that pierced it with golden needles. He then proceeded to channel his domain through the cauldron, shaving away its outer layer but keeping it as an important reagent.
He froze that part with Grandmist flames and ground it to a powder and kept it off to the side while he cut, pulverized, and slightly heated the remainder of the vine with hotter flames. Then, he mixed the powder and the liquid, forming a thin slurry. It thickened as he boiled it. Finally, he twisted with his mind, creating a sealing space around the blob that froze it in space-time. “Huh. I wonder how I did that?”
“It’s a rune-gathering artifact now,” Sun Wukong said. “It’s not just better at hitting things. It’ll give you some minor power over space. And time, I guess. You could have done the same with your camera.”
“It’s very useful,” Cha Ming said. “And free. The camera is a glutton. Now I don’t need to be in that much of a hurry as I prepare.”
Sun Wukong nodded. “It was a good buy, even though you had to upset half a demon clan to get it.”
“They’ll get over it,” Cha Ming said. “Or they won’t, and the pressure will make me stronger.”
“That’s the spirit,” Sun Wukong said. “Stick it to the man.”
Cha Ming continued working. Ingredients poured into the cauldron one after another. He became increasingly proficient at creating and controlling different “zones,” which each had their own properties and temperatures. He mixed fire and runic matrices in ways he’d never imagined possible. It made him wonder how any of
this applied to making talismans. Could he burn runes into existence? Better yet, could he do the same with destruction?
Eventually, Cha Ming made a mistake. It was only his first attempt, after all. He overheated a piece of metal, causing too much of an alloyed component to boil off, which he then used against his better judgment, resulting in a large fire that disintegrated everything.
As was his habit, Cha Ming activated his Crown of the Starry Sky to aid him in processing the problem. It didn’t make him think faster but more efficiently. The problem in his mind was a knot that slowly untangled. Should I control the temperature better? he thought. I could, but what if I used a runic binding to increase the melting point, then cooled it back down? Wouldn’t I save time? This and other minor problems resolved themselves.
He tried a second time, this time not repeating the same mistake. The piece of ink-touched half silver melded with the other reagents. After cooling the resulting liquid metal, he focused on another component, this one soul based but filled with death essence. He failed again, this time because he tried imbuing too much cutting power into his flame, which ended up severing key life-links in the root that should have survived the melting process and transferred into the resulting sludge.
He didn’t need the Crown of the Starry Sky this time. His Sage’s Sight was enough. He carefully controlled his flame, breaking down the root little by little until he extracted a strange gel from its black skin. He poured a boiling liquid over it, and the energies of life and death inside both components canceled each other out, resulting in pure soul power imbued with certain concentration properties. Now, it was only a matter of binding both components together. This resulted in yet another failure, the reason for which wasn’t immediately obvious.
This time, he spent much longer figuring out the problem. He popped a mid-grade enlightenment pill and sank into a trance. The Crown of the Starry Sky glowed brightly on his forehead as he tried his best to get to the root of the problem.
I didn’t do anything wrong, he soon realized. This is just an inherently risky process. They don’t like mixing, and when they do, it can be chaotic and violent. Then a thought struck him. This reminded him of a similar problem he’d had when painting a talisman. What if I could do the same as before?
Cha Ming spoke to the Clear Sky Cauldron. She confirmed that she also thought it was a good idea. Together, they repeated the previous processes, and when they got to the final stage, Cha Ming did something he hadn’t done in a while. He formed runic sigils from the alchemical components using his knowledge of talisman arts and the knowledge he’d gleaned from Elder Ling’s puzzle. Two sheets of runes interlocked much like those ones he used for talismans. Instead of a chaotic process, they began to react predictably. The two layers collapsed together in a timely fashion, forming a blob of gel that immediately hardened into a spherical pill.
Go figure, Cha Ming thought. Runic alchemy strikes again. He hadn’t used the Clear Sky Brush to do it this time but had instead forced the components into shape using the Clear Sky Cauldron. It was made for this, he realized.
As he melted the surface of the pill for the sealing step, Cha Ming began to think on other pills he could optimize. How many failures could he save himself from? Using runes, he could not only prevent mishaps, but he could also discard a good deal of supposed knowledge that was hampering his growth. He could fix the recipes he had trouble learning and tailor them to himself. He was, after all, not just an alchemist, but a runic artist.
A liquid film soon covered the pill, and Cha Ming poured his will and flames through the Grandmist Cauldron. The cauldron cooled, and a Grandmist seal hardened into place, sucking in ambient energy. Cha Ming popped the pill into his mouth without thinking. His state of enlightenment deepened as he pondered the recipe he’d just made. He didn’t need to remake the entire recipe, but a lot of steps would become a whole lot easier now.
Offending half the Iridescent Clan had definitely been worth it.
Chapter 15: Hidden Enemies
It was evening in the Burning Lake Prefecture, well past dinnertime. Most people had gone back home, and only a few still hung about, drinking, celebrating, and gambling. Mi Fei was doing none of these things, and neither was the lady she sat with. They sat comfortably in the wine house, drinking the weakest drinks the servers let them get away with ordering.
“I still do not understand why they cannot make decent weak wines,” Special Night said, grimacing as she drank what amounted to diluted baijiu with mixed-in fruit flavoring. She pushed her drink to the side in favor of the snacks they were eating. “Or why wine houses haven’t gotten around to serving better tea.”
Mi Fei took a sip of her own drink—she’d preemptively added sugar. “I’d say the first is a matter of cultural enforcement by thousand-year-old men, and the second is a matter of contract. The teahouses have a lobby that prohibits sales of certain teas outside licensed teahouses.”
“Oh, I understand the specifics of it,” Special Night said. “I’ve looked into it. I’ve even tried my hand at changing it. Unfortunately, it’s difficult to enact change when your own clan’s patriarch doesn’t support it.”
Mi Fei grimaced. She knew that feeling all too well. “If only we followed the good example of demons and their clans.”
Special Night raised an eyebrow. “Trial by combat?”
“I was thinking of their matriarchal tendencies,” Mi Fei said. “Xiao Bai says that’s how most clans function. It has something to do with bloodline inheritance.”
“Interesting,” Special Night said. “You know, you didn’t have to post her as a guard outside the wine house. You could have brought her along. This place might seem normal, but it’s well-guarded. There are no less than three of my clansmen keeping watch.”
“She counted five,” Mi Fei said.
“I said no less,” Special Night said, smiling lightly. “Now tell me, what can I do for you today? Last I checked, the Mi Clan didn’t seem to require our services. Are you here on personal business? Do you need to settle a grudge? Have you decided it’s time to rid the world of Cao Shufen?”
Mi Fei coughed as some of the flavored wine she was drinking went down the wrong hole. “No, that won’t be necessary. And trust me, I know all about her. Wei Longshen made it a point to tell me about their exchange.”
“Ah. I’d assumed he’d keep it a secret,” Special Night said. “I’ll have to update our clan notes on the matter. Regardless, we would have had to decline if you’d wanted to eliminate her. She’s far too high profile a target.”
“You’re assuming I’d like to hire you to remove someone,” Mi Fei said.
“That is generally what people pay us to do,” Special Night said.
“Tell me about the five great clans and their relationship to the Wei Clan,” Mi Fei said.
“Ah,” Special Night said. “We do deal in information. In that case, I’ll need a deposit.”
Mi Fei replied by placing a long inkwell jade on the table. It was worth one hundred mid-grade spirit stones.
“I’m not sure what you’re after, but that won’t get you much.”
“Tell me when it ceases to be enough,” Mi Fei said. No way she was getting fleeced by showing too much wealth up front. Better to make her earn it.
“Very well,” Special Night said. She placed a jade on the table and pressed her finger against it. A line appeared on her body, starting at her fingers and ending at her forehead.
“From what I know, three of the five great sects are dancing to Cao Wenluan’s tune,” Special Night said. “Specifically, the Stormbright Sect, the Eclipse Sect, and the Hallowed Sons Sect. Not only have they gone to war, but they have consolidated their financial positions with the Cao Clan.”
“Meaning…” Mi Fei said.
“In essence, they’ve joined several of their businesses that were historically independent, either through agreements or joint ownership covenants,” Special Night said. “As you know, money is the lifebloo
d of any sect or clan. These sects have always been competitors of the Wei Clan, for most of their income is derived from their alchemists, their spiritual blacksmiths, their talisman artists, and in the case of the Hallowed Sons, their spirit doctors.”
“And the Cao Clan has never been very active in these areas,” Mi Fei muttered. “I understand. They’re flush with treasures from pillaging the demon lands and have decided to invest their wealth. They’ve chosen to use the sects, as they’ve typically been neutral balancing forces and don’t compete directly with the clans.”
“That is the case, as far as we can tell,” Special Night answered. “Most people think that the Cao Clan pressured the sects into joining the war. In fact, it was the other way around. Seeing how much wealth the war was bringing in, the sects were the ones to beg the Cao Clan to join. Not only did this speed up the progress of the war, but the favors owed to the Cao Clan are now immense.”
“Thus the actions against the Wei Clan,” Mi Fei said.
“In a sense,” Special Night said. “Though you must admit, this is a small favor. They wanted to act against the Wei Clan, but were too embroiled by their infighting. It’s something even the Wei Clan realizes, as recently, they tried but failed to instigate their young masters into fighting again.”
Mi Fei massaged her eyebrows. “Lack of information?”
“It was a factor,” Special Night said. “Lack of resolve was the key factor. The Wei Clan has never taken kindly to our business, as you know.”
“Yes, they’re a bunch of sticklers,” Mi Fei said. “It’s annoying. The Stormbright Sect has always been unbridled and abusive. The Wei Clan should know that more than anyone else.”
“The Wei Clan is more diplomatic than you might think,” Special Night said. “As for the two remaining great sects, the Frostmoon Sect is… wary of the Cao Can. The Silent Eaves Sect would also rather not rock the boat, as they’ve typically fostered good relations with demons. The demon lands are the best place to harvest medicinal ingredients, and they’ve historically taken demons into their ranks and have gone questing for various demon factions. The war has greatly influenced their business model.”
Claddings of Light : Book 12 of Painting the Mists Page 25