Not all depictions were unique. Most images on the left had a mirror image on the right. Illusory Dance of the Iridescent Phoenix had four copies, while the one at the center, Severing Flame of Iridescent Grief, only had one.
There were exceptions to the rule, of course—the fringe techniques on the outer edges. The central theme of iridescence didn’t disappear, but the one that harnessed it changed. There were techniques for various types of demons—notably turtles, serpents, dragons, and monkeys. As for techniques showing men, there were two of them. One was an alchemical technique showing a human manipulating myriad flames, and the other a divine technique showing a multicolored mantle. Both seemed suitable for him.
“Are these my only choices?” Cha Ming asked. The spirit didn’t answer. One of Huxian’s warnings came to mind: If it’s a mental challenge, tricks are fair game. There could be more to this challenge than simple learning. Moreover, he’d been assailed by many illusions and compulsions on his way here. What if there was something similar in this room as well?
He activated the Crown of the Starry Sky and his Sage’s Sight, if only to decide which technique suited him best. It was in scanning each window one at a time that he discovered something his eyes nearly passed over. Something hiding in plain sight.
What’s a doorway doing here? Cha Ming thought, walking up beside the last tinted glass window. There, he found a doorway outlined in stone. Its border shone with soft starlight that he would have only noticed if the room were dark. He traced its outline, and the stone parted, revealing not a road of starlight, but a path of ink and metal. This is all sorts of strange, Cha Ming thought as he walked through the doorway.
The hallway led to a hallway that ran parallel to the gallery of windows. From this side, he could see the back of each pane of tinted glass, as well the bowls of flickering iridescent flames that illuminated them. Was it a maintenance corridor of some kind? A place for the test administrator to fuel each flame? He doubted it.
Cha Ming walked down the hallway, double-checking each technique, comparing it to the mirror image he remembered. Each one was identical to what he’d seen on the other side. The only difference he found was that while most windows had a flame that backlit it, a single one did not. It glowed of its own accord without fire or flame to assist it. “Dazzling Light of the Weeping Flame,” Cha Ming said as he touched its nameplate. Wasn’t the name on the other side different? Shouldn’t it be Severing Flame of Iridescent Grief?
Now that he looked at things more closely, he saw that this was the only technique on this side with a nameplate. It had an iridescent candle like all the others to indicate availability. This one was unoccupied, despite the fact that its mirror, Severing Flame of Iridescent Grief, was taken.
There must be a reason this place exists, Cha Ming thought. A reason for a Star-Eye Clan doorway to be drawn in stone, and for the hallway to be decorated in ink and gold. It was there, waiting for someone like me.
Cha Ming reached out and touched the window. It glowed brightly when he did so. He blinked from the blinding light and found himself in a world of darkness.
“After all this time, it’s a human who finds his way here?” a familiar voice said.
“Yes, Iridescent Ancestor,” Cha Ming said. “The same human from earlier.”
A thousand candle flames lit up all around him. They glowed with a familiar iridescent light he’d seen countless times in Shimmerwing City. They moved in the darkness, combining until they formed the faint outline of a much larger bird.
“I remember this place,” Cha Ming said, looking around. “I’ve seen it four times before. In each one, I saw a battle. A raging turtle unleashing the rage of an inky sea. A solemn serpent searing her enemies with sacred sand. A worldly monkey concentrating the might of ten thousand stars, and an arrogant dragon roaring, deafening any who dared listen. The enemy was always the same.”
There was silence for a moment, and then a soft but sudden sound. A gentle rain began to fall. It drizzled on Cha Ming’s hair, penetrating any soul or qi defenses, soaking him from head to toe. He tried to dry himself but failed. The liquid clung to him fiercely. It wasn’t inky rain, he realized, but clear water, pure and crystalline. He touched the liquid to his lips and realized the truth of its nature. “You’re crying?” he asked. Another sniff was his only reply. This continued for a good two minutes before the weeping figure composed herself and spoke again.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Ready for what?” Cha Ming answered. To which the phoenix replied by retracting her wings and pulling them around herself like a blanket. The soft fires that made up her wings converged together and made a much larger flame. It glowed like a lighthouse on a rainy night, though instead of guiding ships to safety, it led them to madness and despair.
Emotions began to seep into Cha Ming’s mind and soul. Chaos reigned in his heart. One moment, he was furious at her treachery, and the next, he was in love with her. Then he shuddered, remembering that he was a broken mess, and unworthy of affection. The flames weighed on his mind, reminding him that anything he did was meaningless, and that dying was better than dealing with anything.
To the untrained mind, this would have been fatal. To Cha Ming, however, it was tolerable. He had tempered his heart with negativity, after all. It could no longer destroy him. So, he closed his eyes and focused on the iridescent flame in the Clear Sky World, summoning it in front of him. It drank in the oppressive light that shone from the Iridescent Ancestor’s flame and cleared away its mind-warping properties.
The situation was stable now, so Cha Ming was able to take a better look at his surroundings. The light from the beacon, though significantly dimmed, had attacked more than his mind. It had been burning his soul body. It was a spiritual attack, one that was especially affective to someone who had been dragged out of his body. And it was growing stronger, and quickly.
Cha Ming was new to using iridescent flames, but it came naturally to him. He felt a kinship to the fire, as much as it taxed his emotions. It burned away his negative emotions to fuel itself, and the larger it grew, the stronger his personal bubble of light became.
“You don’t know grief,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “You don’t know sadness.” Her flames grew, illuminating her entire figure, including her iridescent wings, her talons, and her beautiful face. Her phoenix eyes dripped with iridescent droplets that trickled to the ground. There was anger mixed in with her grief, and it bubbled and hissed as the teardrops splattered.
Her flame grew, and as it did, her light intensified. It clashed with Cha Ming’s protective sphere of light. At first, he could resist, but soon, he struggled to keep up. He couldn’t burn away all that grief. He couldn’t burn away all that pain.
This begged the question: Was he even doing this correctly? He was burning grief with his fire, fighting the Iridescent Ancestor’s joy-burning flames with his own, which burned sadness. Normally, he should imitate the technique he was learning, should he not? She was weeping. Shouldn’t he?
So he changed his approach. Instead of feeding his flame negativity, he poured in his joy and determination. He fed it satisfaction and comfort and empowerment. This was much better fuel for the iridescent fire, and the more he fed it, the greater it grew. From a small candle, it became a blazing beacon not unlike the Iridescent Ancestor’s own.
There was a price to be paid, however. Waves of negative emotions hit him. They made him want to give up and give in. The wounds in his heart opened, and before long, he, too, was crying. Yet the more positivity he burned away, the more his iridescent flame grew, and soon enough, his flame and the Iridescent Ancestor’s were evenly matched.
“Do you see it?” the Iridescent Ancestor asked.
Cha Ming could only nod slowly and solemnly. It was only now that he’d embraced the darkness that he could feel the essence of both their flames.
“Then show me.”
Her flame grew stronger, and her tears splashed upon the gro
und like drizzling rain. Cha Ming mirrored her, pouring every ounce of positive emotion he could muster into his personal fire. The more he did, the more it grew, but it left him empty, sorrowful, and uncertain.
This technique was a double-edged sword. This flame gave off light that burned hearts and souls. It seared away all things that were good in the world, leaving only doubt and sorrow and madness. Only those who’d experienced true darkness could ever hope to wield it.
“Enough,” the phoenix finally said, banishing her flame. He did the same. Neither of them wanted to keep using it. She sniffed one last time, and her tears dried up. “It seems you do understand. Not the way I do, of course, but that doesn’t matter. Everyone is different. Guard Dazzling Light of the Weeping Flame well, just as you have guarded Raging Waves of the Inky Sea. The enemy has yet to witness it.”
A multicolored orb floated in front of her, and before Cha Ming could react, it split in two. One rushed into his soul, and another into his body. One part delivered the full knowledge of Dazzling Light of the Weeping Flame, and the other delivered demon essence matching the other four he’d been given. It traveled to the center of his internal universe to join the other four. When it did, they locked together, creating a white circle and black star.
“These techniques,” Cha Ming said, watching it happen. “They can combine together, can’t they?”
“Yes,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “Though they are but fragments of the originals. The fusion technique was famous before she died.”
“Who?” Cha Ming asked.
“You really don’t know, do you?” she said. Her grief returned, and color began to bleed out of her feathers and into her tears. “It seems this entire world has forgotten her sacrifice.”
“I’m sorry,” Cha Ming said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And that’s the saddest thing,” she said. “Regardless, here you are. You bear a fraction of the might of five. There are things you must know. Rules you must follow.”
Cha Ming clasped his hands bowed. “Please tell me. I’ll do my best.”
The phoenix nodded. “First, it is as I said. Our techniques work best together. I do not know how you will achieve this—these techniques were not made to be used by humans. Regardless of how you go about it, the technique will have limits. It is a fragment. If you wish to make it stronger, seek out other fragments, as the enemy has been doing this whole time.”
“You mean the White-Eyed Tiger Clan?” Cha Ming asked.
“Only one of many descendants,” the phoenix said. “You bear her mark of enmity. That bodes ill for you. The Paper Tiger is a jealous being, for like her children, she lacks stripes. She has no color of her own.”
“Like the rakshasa,” Cha Ming said.
“The least of her children,” the phoenix said.
“I’m confused,” Cha Ming said. “You’ve given me a technique, but now you’re telling me I can’t use it. How is that remotely useful?”
“You have been given a boon and an obligation,” the phoenix replied. “Should they find these techniques, the consequences will be devastating.”
“Very well,” Cha Ming said. “I will do as you say. Can you… tell me more? Who was she? Why did she die?”
“No,” the Iridescent Phoenix said. “Knowing more would only harm you. Besides, you have little time remaining. You have been here learning for a few hours, but in the outside world, a day has passed.”
Cha Ming’s eyes narrowed. “Then I need to get going. I still need to petition you for phoenix blood.”
“Like always, there is no end to human greed,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “Off with you. I will see you at the end of the third trial.”
Cha Ming found himself in a world of flames. The afterglow of a teleportation circle faded beneath his feet, revealing a rocky road that split apart a sea of magma.
In the distance, trial participants were fighting their way forward. The slowest of them was already a third of the way across the burning sea. No one had reached the end. Only three days remained of the ten days allotted.
“It could be worse,” Cha Ming muttered. “Someone could have already finished.”
Someone will if you keep dawdling, Sun Wukong sent.
Cha Ming nodded and took a tentative step out of the circle. Hot winds, ashes, and soot welcomed him. He fought away the suffocating heat that would have instantly killed a non-cultivator.
Cha Ming walked slowly at first, acclimatizing himself to his surroundings. His four-colored domain did little to fight back the heat.
Iridescent Wonder mentioned that things not related to fire would be inhibited, he thought. So, he switched to his much weaker fire domain, which had grown appreciatively in his time training as an alchemist. Even more so since he’d gained enlightenment on the Concept of Iridescent Flame.
His bubble of control shimmered as he walked. While the Concept of Iridescent Flame was only a first-order concept, he was still a strong late-rune-carving cultivator. The size of his domain had doubled with every advancement, meaning that his current domain was four hundred meters wide. Not only was his control extensive, but he could also pillage heaven-and-earth energy and use it to manipulate the heat in his surroundings.
Once he got used to the pressure, he increased his pace and hopped onto the Clear Sky Staff to fly forward. The lava and both sides of the stone bridge hissed and spat at him, and creatures of fire tried to intercept him. Using his superior movement speed and his iridescent domain, he was able to bypass most of them. Eventually, he passed the first participant, though once he did so, he began to slow. It wasn’t the heat that was the problem, but rather the creatures that climbed out of the bubbling lava, threatening to overwhelm his defenses. They were immune to the Clear Sky Staff and didn’t respond to water, earth, wood, or gold. Not even a burst of soul power fazed them.
Only fire works here, Cha Ming reminded himself. Would an alchemist’s flame be better? He summoned the iridescent-gray flame, and the moment he did, the creatures retreated. They feared the flame. Feared what it could do to them. Even the Iridescent Phoenix clansmen shied away from it.
Since the Clear Sky Staff was tied into his alchemist’s flame, he summoned a normal flying sword and continued on his way. Hours passed, and in these hours, Cha Ming didn’t grow more tired like the other participants. Instead, he felt invigorated. That was not only due to the protective nature of his flame, but to the absorptive qualities of Grandmist. It drained a portion of the ambient heat and replenished his qi reserves.
Soon enough, he passed another Iridescent Phoenix clanswoman. Next came a pair of them. He was already well past the halfway point. After the twelfth participant, he finally saw his first elder. The younger woman was drenched in sweat and struggling from the intense heat. He wondered for a moment why she, an investiture-realm demon, would be struggling at this point. Why her armor would be on the verge of cracking. But then he remembered the First Feather’s words. She was facing a different trial than they were.
At the end of the first day, Cha Ming stepped off his flying sword. The red-hot blade could no longer bear the extreme heat, and the metal was already warped and ruined, its runic engravings completely destroyed.
Before him lay the last third of the road. The lava there bubbled and spat across the pathway, and steam shot out of fissures in shattered portions of it. He strode on carefully, thanking his superior flame and well-suited domain, though he didn’t dare let his guard down, lest tentacles of lava reach out from glowing red pools to devour him.
Whereas before, he’d traveled in relative peace, a yellow flame appeared to challenge him almost immediately.
You are too weak, the creature said, pushing back against his domain. Turn back.
I’m afraid I can’t do that, Cha Ming replied.
Then prepare to die, it said in a ghostly voice. It charged at him, flaming weapon at the ready. Cha Ming used his iridescent domain to create chains of fire. They b
ound the creature in place as he tried to summon the Clear Sky Staff, only to realize that should he summon it, he would need to banish the alchemist’s flame. The creature broke free, and only a quick activation of Clockwork Boots of the Golden Dragon allowed him to vacate its line of fire. He threw his alchemist’s flame at the creature, and the flame devoured it, replenishing some of the energy he’d just used. It didn’t quite make up for the expenditure, but it was better than nothing.
Cha Ming didn’t rest on his laurels. His instincts told him to move. He immediately summoned the Crown of the Starry Sky, using it to slightly boost his Sage’s Sight as he pivoted in midair. He used his alchemist’s flame as a shield to avoid not one but two elementals that had sought to take advantage of him while he fought the other. His flames swallowed them just as easily as the first, but by then, many more elementals had climbed out of the lava to replace them, each with their own weapons and transparent flame armor.
I’ll have to fight and run, Cha Ming thought. He couldn’t allow himself to get tied up in a pointless battle. Instead of fighting them head on, he prioritized moving forward, drawing a crowd of them as he fled. This took energy, however, and as much as his alchemist’s flame could pillage the fire qi in this place, he had difficulty absorbing heaven-and-earth qi with his iridescent domain. He couldn’t do the same as the Iridescent Clan and use a dominion to perfectly absorb the ample fire-aligned demonic energy. To proceed any further, he would need to find a way to make up for this deficiency.
Cha Ming reluctantly slowed his pace. At this point of the trial, a dozen elementals would attack him if he maintained this sort of pace. The faster he went, the more would jump in, and if he slowed, some would stay in reserve. He analyzed their fighting patterns, deflecting blades of flame and whips of magma, shattering flaming armor and absorbing arrows with his cloak of alchemist fire.
Only when he grew confident enough to fight them on instinct did he divert a portion of his mind to the problem at hand and burned a small but steady amount of divine blood to channel starlight and boost his intuition. Thinking of two things at once was easy. He’d broken his mind apart many times before.
Claddings of Light : Book 12 of Painting the Mists Page 51