Claddings of Light : Book 12 of Painting the Mists

by Patrick Laplante

  “Are the two of you done bickering, or will you continue wasting my time?” the Iridescent Ancestor asked from the circle. Cha Ming could only grit his teeth and step inside. He was immediately transported into a small pocket realm.

  “Extreme time contraction,” Cha Ming said, noting the abrupt change in the flow of time. For every thousand seconds that passed here, the world outside would only experience one. “I’ve never seen time pass by so fast.”

  “A parlor trick, if the people inside aren’t doing anything dangerous,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. The flaming bird leapt into the air and transformed into a short woman with piercing eyes and shifting hair. She wore a colorful dress with a bare midriff.

  To call her beautiful was an understatement. She was entrancing. Her very presence caused all sorts of emotions to bash about in Cha Ming’s mind as he struggled to keep them under control. It was a similar effect to Dazzling Light of the Weeping Flame, but in reverse. This flame did not consume joy but sorrow. To be around her was to be happy.

  “You’re now in a good mood, I see,” Cha Ming said.

  “Oh, save the flattery,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. She held out her hand and summoned a book and began to flip through it. “You came here for a reward,” she said. “What do you want? Quickly. I don’t have all day.” She was very different from the weepy ancestor he’d spoken to. Were they even the same person?

  “Do you happen to have any inheritance blood remaining?” Cha Ming asked.

  “That depends,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “What do you need? How much?”

  Cha Ming was taken by surprise. He’d expected outright refusal. His heart beating faster, he reviewed the information imprinted directly on his soul by the Seventy-Two Transformations Technique. “Blood of a late-investiture-realm phoenix, two liters, fire aligned. Blood of a late-investiture-realm phoenix, two liters, earth aligned.”

  “Yes, yes, all five elements, and probably some source blood,” the Ancestor said, tapping her lips. “Sorry, can’t help you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Cha Ming asked.

  “Won’t,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. To answer his question, she summoned an image. It was, to his surprise, a replica of the Inkwell Plane. Thirty bright spots lit up on it. “This pocket realm is connected to many trial gateways throughout the plane. Every year, I administer three trials in rotation for the thirty remaining gate tokens owned by my progeny.”

  She then summoned a small drop of blood. It was dark, nearly black as ink, but its presence caused the colors in the room to warp and twist. “I sent this tiny drop of my own blood here at great expense, hurting my true body in the process. For every year that passes in the Inkwell Plane, a thousand years pass by in this pocket realm, which in turn allows this tiny drop of blood to generate several portions of inheritance blood that will benefit my progeny who reside on this plane. Every trial, it generates enough blood for three lucky clansmen to have a chance to exceed their mortal shackles and join me in the upper realms.”

  “Have any managed it?” Cha Ming asked.

  “Four,” she said. “Now, you might ask why I am telling you this. The simple answer is that I wish for you to understand what it would cost for me to bend the rules for you. This single droplet of blood is more than enough for you to complete your blood awakening. Yet if I give it up, my descendants will lose out on my support.”

  “My actions could save many of your descendants,” Cha Ming countered. “That is contingent on obtaining sufficient phoenix inheritance blood.”

  “Also fair,” she replied. “But look at this.”

  She swept her hand, and a huge amount of information lit up in midair. To Cha Ming’s surprise, it was a calculation. Emotional instability aside, the Iridescent Ancestor was very logical and organized.

  “Your actions could well save hundreds of thousands of my clansmen,” she admitted. “However, if I gift you this drop of blood, your success is still not guaranteed. Unfortunately, sending replacement blood would take me ten thousand years—Inkwell time, obviously. Such a loss would be devastating to my descendants here and could easily lead to their extinction. Now tell me, as a reasonable person, would you make this decision?”

  “I suppose I wouldn’t,” Cha Ming admitted. There was no use lying to a powerful Godbeast like her. He’d learned that the hard way with the Clockwork Ancestor.

  “It is good that you understand,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “With that out of the way, I can offer you many items that might assist you in your current situation. None of them can replace the inheritance blood. I looked into it already.”

  “May I?” Cha Ming asked, gesturing to the book.

  “You may,” the Iridescent Ancestor said.

  He took the book, and knowledge burned itself into his mind. The process left him with a bloody nose and a migraine. “So many options.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “If I’m going to execute a dimensional transfer to send my own source blood, a piece of my soul, and a pocket dimension to a transcendent plane, I might as well pack enough trinkets.”

  Cha Ming frowned as he reviewed the information. There were many, many items, some useful for himself, and some for others. There were weapons, though he dismissed those immediately. There was pure Grandmist as well, and though the Clear Sky Brush nudged him eagerly in that direction, he dismissed the thought of obtaining it. He needed a game changer, not food for his already powerful weapon.

  He continued scanning, but the options were overwhelming. There was a ship, identical to the one the third elder had fetched. It was a massive rune-gathering-grade transport that could carry five hundred thousand comfortably. It would fly faster that any ship the Burning Lake Prefecture could send their way. The only issue was the amount of energy it required. The sum was more than a prefecture produced in an entire decade.

  There was armor that could protect Cha Ming from dozens of blows from a middle-muscle-empowering cultivator while not impeding his movements in the slightest. There was a tiny pocket dimension containing not only basic dragon metals, but many advanced components that could improve his Clockwork Boots of the Golden Dragon. The Iridescent Ancestor wasn’t kidding when she said she’d packed enough trinkets. With this many items, she could satisfy almost any demand—save her source blood—for the next million years and still have much to spare.

  “I find myself overwhelmed,” Cha Ming said finally. “There are many options available, though none that I’m sure would tilt the scales in my favor.”

  “Well, I don’t want to mope here with you all day,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “Give me that. She took the book and swept her hand, revealing another stream of data. “Barring unusual developments but assuming you find a way to execute your next core carving, I put your odds at one percent of surviving your upcoming battle. You’d need to pull off some well-executed tricks.” She hummed with her arms crossed and tapped her fingers on her lips. “Perhaps this?” She summoned a small well that floated above her hand. It wasn’t full of water but starlight. “If you forcefully channel this through your crown, you might be able to think of a clever plan. The backlash would be severe if used twice in a row. With this, I’d give you a five percent chance of surviving those prefecture lords.”

  “I see you didn’t mention Iridescent Torch,” Cha Ming said.

  She rolled her eyes. “That one’s an appetizer. Though you bring up a good point. If you take the Cloak of Obscure Night and use it to assassinate her, you could take her censer. Then I’d give you an eight percent chance if you use hit-and-run tactics in your battle. You could even lend the gear to your fox brother. Maybe he could take one of them out before your fight?”

  “I’m surprised you’re all right with me killing one of your descendants,” Cha Ming said. “You’ve put a lot of effort into these trials.”

  “Oh, her?” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “She’s already dead; she just doesn’t know it yet. This is more like robbing someone’s corpse so th
e enemy doesn’t take her items.”

  The cruel irony of the statement wasn’t lost to him.

  “I could always take the inheritance blood from her,” Cha Ming said.

  “She’s already handed it off to her disciple, Iridescent Smile,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “Time might pass slowly out there, but you’re really taking your time.” Then her eyes lit up. She summoned a vial of ruby-red blood. Just looking at it caused his heart to pound with excitement. “This is qilin blood. You could use it to craft a bloodline. I don’t know about future development, but the extra limit-break ability and strong body tempering you’d obtain would sneak your odds up to nine percent.”

  “Still not great odds,” Cha Ming said.

  She sighed and closed the book. “You did this to yourself, you know. This is the best I can do for you. I’m even being generous and bending the rules by including elder-level items.”

  “Because Iridescent Torch interfered?” Cha Ming asked.

  “Because of what’s at stake,” the Iridescent Ancestor answered. “I’m not a fool, Clear Sky. I know you’re a good man. You’ll watch out for my descendants in this war and in future ones if I do you a small favor.”

  Cha Ming said nothing. None of these were items good enough. He needed something game changing. If he had more time to cultivate, that would be wonderful. He’d obtained the concept enlightenment he needed, so he could proceed to his final carving.

  Then it dawned on him. His eyes widened, and he looked around the beautiful room. “What if I didn’t take an item?” Cha Ming said.

  “That seems counterproductive,” the Iridescent Ancestor said.

  “If I gave up the item, could you let me stay here a while instead?” Cha Ming asked. “Time passes quickly here. I could cultivate peacefully for the next ten days Inkwell time, potentially breaking through a few realms in qi cultivation.”

  Her expression became contemplative. “The rules state I must give you an item. I also don’t have excess energy in this dreadful transcended plane. However… I could sacrifice a treasure with maximal energy density, using it to bend space and grant you a tiny pocket of this realm to cultivate in.”

  “What?” Cha Ming asked, but she ignored him.

  “Yes, then you wouldn’t be staying in here past your allotted time, you’d technically be using another treasure, which wouldn’t break the rules…” the phoenix said. “It won’t be very stable, and the compression wouldn’t be nearly as efficient as in this room but… Yes, I think this is actually doable.”

  She grabbed a jade tablet and began tapping at it and performing calculations, much like Iridescent Code had. Was it a genetic trait? Iridescent Charity was also like this.

  “Here’s what I can do, Cha Ming,” she said. “You said you need to return to the Inkwell Plane within ten days. I could… delay your exit by that much time. With the sacrifice of the Well of Dreams, that wonderful starlight reservoir, I could grant you a full three hundred and sixty-five days inside.”

  “And I could cultivate normally?” Cha Ming asked. From what he knew, time compression could affect the perception of laws and concepts. If it didn’t, however, this was a godsend. It wasn’t actually phoenix blood he needed the most—it was time.

  “Yes and no,” the Iridescent Ancestor replied. “First of all, three hundred and sixty-five days assumes the monkey helps you stabilize the realm.” She stared past Cha Ming and into the Clear Sky World. “I know you’re in there, you rascal. Either way, assuming you get his help, you’ll have that much time. The limiting factor then would be energy demands. The shell of the temporary spatial item I’d be crafting to enclose the space would be very brittle, and a breakthrough to rune gathering would shatter it. It wouldn’t affect your breakthrough itself, but I’d have to chase you out. That aside, have you considered the tribulation that will accompany your ascension to the rune-gathering realm?”

  He hadn’t. “Assuming Huxian and I can withstand the tribulation, would I have favorable odds against the prefecture lords?”

  “Assuming Burning Lake didn’t grow stronger since you last measured his strength,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “Your odds would increase to maybe fifty-fifty. I’m assuming, of course, that you kill Iridescent Torch and take her censer. You should consider, however, that Prefecture Lord Burning Lake has a great deal of wealth. It’s very possible that he’s studied you and equipped himself with many contingency items.”

  “I’ve never had enough money to think that way,” Cha Ming said.

  “It takes a hoarder to know one,” the Iridescent Ancestor agreed. “Well? What’s your decision?”

  “Let’s do it,” Cha Ming said. “This is wonderful news. A year is a lot of time to cultivate.”

  “Don’t underestimate how much time you’ll be spending from now on,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “Ten years from now, decades will be nothing to you. Advancement will take centuries unless you’re willing to put your life on the line.”

  “I can only take things one step at a time,” Cha Ming said. “It’s like a story—even a perfectly planned book won’t go exactly as you expect it.”

  “She used to say things like that too,” the Iridescent Ancestor said sadly. “Anyway, off you go. Your time is up.”

  The Well of Dreams appeared in her hand and shattered. It turned into a mist that formed a small rune-covered marble that sucked in the energy around them and pulled Cha Ming inside it.

  He found himself in a small dimension, completely devoid of demonic energy and filled to the brim with heaven-and-earth energy. His surroundings were bright white, like the Clear Sky World.

  Teacher? Cha Ming asked. Sun Wukong immediately popped out of the Clear Sky World.

  “Good thinking, kid,” Sun Wukong said. “You managed to impress her. It’s not easy to do that.”

  “She knows you,” Cha Ming said.

  “Little Star-Eye and her sisters were inseparable,” Sun Wukong said. “Makes me miss the good ole days.”

  “We’ll find you a body,” Cha Ming said. “Soon. I promise.”

  “One step at a time, kid,” Sun Wukong said. “Good luck, and don’t do anything stupid.”

  He disappeared, though Cha Ming could feel his aura spreading across the dimension and stabilizing it.

  Chapter 35: A Year in Ten Days

  Cha Ming was no stranger to isolation. To him, the all-white space was a familiar friend. The first thing he did was sit down, cross-legged as always, casting his fourfold domain out to test its interaction with the surrounding energy.

  He channeled his own qi and concepts into the domain and used them together to manipulate energy within its 400-meter range. That included his most recent Concept of Iridescent Flame. It took a day to adapt his new five-concept cultivation method to the fourfold domain.

  He then spent three days building up energy before initiating the rune-carving process. He appeared outside his core wielding the Clear Sky Carving Knife. It was stronger now that it was a rune-gathering artifact, though this did not improve how much Grandmist it could take.

  Like before, the plane granted Cha Ming an allotment of Grandmist. Cha Ming added a portion of his own stores, filling the carving knife until it was ready to burst. Then, he began carving, using his intuition to guide him. He started with a creative interaction as he usually did. Many-colored runes from the Concept of Iridescent Flame meshed with the vast and speckled runes representing the Concept of Starry Sky. The Concept of Iridescent Flame wasn’t just about fire—it was about differences in general, including differences in nature and culture, among others. He carved many aspects of fire, yes, but he also carved truths of demons, gods, immortals, and men. He carved of angels and devils, as well as animals and vegetation. The Concept of Starry Sky connected it all, forming a network of crisscrossing roads that joined them together.

  Some things were lost in the merger. Some of the infinite colors in the Concept of Iridescent Flame did not survive. But overall, the whole was
more than the pieces. The remaining colors burned brighter than ever before, and new ones were even born from the merger. Iridescence was ever shifting, and cultures ever changing. He didn’t even have to carve these new runes—they evolved from his original markings. The tiny carvings eventually resulted in a curved line that glowed soft white the moment he finished it, marking the fourth creative interaction.

  Cha Ming then proceeded to a destructive interaction to balance things out. There were two reasons for this. First, he could get this easier carving out of the way. Second, he was worried about interference that might result from completing the creative circle. His intuition told him that the moment the great circle was completed, the great star of destruction would become impossible to finish.

  So, he started with fire and metal. He combined the Concepts of Iridescent Flame and Radiant Masterpiece. Iridescent Flame represented variety. Radiant Masterpiece represented excellence in craftsmanship. They struggled with each other, for diversity led to wonderful new things, but it was the antithesis of perfect craftsmanship in a single path. The shifting fire characters represented different styles and nations and places. They clashed constantly with runes of perfection, destroying standardization and establishment.

  The interlocking golden runes ran counter to this trend. They defended against the onslaught of many-colored fire runes. They represented iteration and constant improvement. The patterns melded together to create a runic matrix that featured iteration and perfection through new ideas. The differences introduced by the iridescent-flame runes introduced upheaval, which served as the perfect foil for the creation of new Radiance Masterpieces. When the last of the runes lit up, they glowed black, leaving Cha Ming with an open circle and an incomplete star. He paused there for a moment, then pressed ahead with his own masterpiece. A double carving, to unite creation and destruction together.

  He carved the third and fourth interactions simultaneously. It was difficult, but he could think of no other way. Creation was the antithesis of destruction, and vice versa. To complete both, he would need to finish the carvings at exactly the same time, with exactly the same rune as a focal point.