“Not bad,” he said, stroking his beard as he looked at the spear’s handiwork. The wall, which the spear had barely pierced a few seconds ago, had broken in two. Where the spear had once been, there was a nine-foot empty crater filled with smoking metallic dust. Only a few fragments of the spear remained. A crack expanded vertically from the point of impact. The force of the detonation had clearly been aimed in a specific direction.
“And you’ve never tested this before?” Tian Zhi asked with a raised eyebrow.
“The result is a little embarrassing,” Cha Ming said, blushing a little. “I was hoping to channel around half of the energy generated vertically, but it was closer to ten percent. The wall section here is only fifteen feet tall, after all, and most walls are much taller.”
“Still, I think you’re onto something,” Tian Zhi said. “I won’t say we’ll use it as is, but I’ll definitely be filing for a new product bonus for you.”
“Thank you,” Cha Ming said, bowing.
“No, thank you,” Tian Zhi said. “You’re wasted on those other things, those gravity wells, those wind fans. I see real potential here with this demolition artifact.”
“Sir?” Cha Ming said. “Do you wish for me to continue enhancing it?”
“This?” Tian Zhi said. “No, it’s far too primitive compared to what’s needed. Instead, I have a special project in mind, if you’re interested. The benefit to our empire is astronomical, and the reward for successfully creating it… Well, let’s just say that, split amongst the development team, the poorest man could own a mid-sized city if he liked.”
Cha Ming licked his lips. “When do we start?” He didn’t want to appear too eager, but an entire city? Only a fool or a selfless man would pass up on that. Pai Xiao was neither.
“Tomorrow,” Tian Zhi said. “Take the rest of the day off in the meantime. Rest your mind.”
“Thank you, sir,” Cha Ming said. Seeing that Tian Zhi wanted to be left alone, he left the laboratory. He didn’t return to his workshop but followed his senior’s advice, ascending to the surface level of the Blackthorn Conglomerate. The first part of his plan had been to craft an identity and infiltrate the Wang family. The second part, getting in on Zhou Li’s pet project, had been a balancing act. After all, who wouldn’t be suspicious if someone who excelled at said project happened to appear on their front door?
The project’s goal was simple: to create a device capable of shattering transcendent walls, allowing Southern forces to pour into Northern lands. Pai Xiao’s spear hadn’t quite done that, but it had shown potential and destructive innovation that exceeded their knowledge base. The other two artifacts he’d created, though less obvious in their intent, had also shown that he could overcome an artifact’s grade limitation, exceeding normal power restrictions with reduced durability as a price.
Chuckling to himself, Cha Ming left the Blackthorn Conglomerate and went south to the entrance of the outer city. He’d been in Bastion for three months and had yet to try out the local cuisine. He was keen on remedying that situation.
Cha Ming walked out of a small but famous restaurant a few hours later. He was completely stuffed, and he had even taken some food to go, something cultivators often did, as they rarely left seclusion.
Who knew the South had curries? he thought. I’ll have to tell Huxian. Now wasn’t the best time to go on vacation, but coming back after the war was over wasn’t impossible. That was, if they won.
Despite all this talk of a final confrontation, Cha Ming had seen nothing but strength south of the border. Though he’d never been to any of the battlefields, he’d noticed that the North lacked something in comparison: fighting spirit. Life was a struggle in these inhospitable lands. Getting ahead, and even learning, was a struggle. People here were used to hard work, grueling conditions, and a lot of unfairness. But still, they persisted.
In the North, Cha Ming had only seen relaxed advancement and casual cultivation. There wasn’t a lot of pressure for anyone to climb the ranks. For the most part, there was no war in Northern countries, save for the battlefields and occasional border skirmishes. Most cultivators trained for the sake of getting stronger, and many made a living by fighting demons for abundant resources in spirit woods.
The South was different. Kingdoms rose and fell, and people could be killed at the drop of a hat. Spirit woods were few, as were quarries. Kingdoms warred for these scarce resources as fiercely as they fought against the North. They fought with bitterness and unfairness on their lips, wishing they could break apart that arbitrary border and take over those fertile, easy lands that bred people too weak to deserve them.
That’s the balance though, isn’t it? Cha Ming sent to Sun Wukong, who’d been resting in the Clear Sky Brush. The balance between good and evil.
The forces of evil are forged in misfortune and blood, Sun Wukong agreed. How could they not be stronger for it? A veteran is more lethal than fresh fodder. Even the luckiest of generals would rather have an army of veterans over twice as many new troops.
Cha Ming nodded. He looked at the people as he walked. Now that he’d wandered off Main Street, he saw what he hadn’t seen when he’d entered the city. There were beggars here, but they filled less important streets. They didn’t beg for money with no strings attached like those in the North did—they knew the world wasn’t kind to them. Instead, they offered themselves up for hard labor, among other things. Other poorer people didn’t beg but sold odds and ends on the side of the street. Feeding such a populated city was difficult, especially where mortals were concerned. Small markets sprouted up wherever enough merchants chose to set up their wares. They supplied cheap goods to the underclass, which was the lifeblood of Bastion.
Cha Ming walked for quite some time, taking in the anger and resentment he felt in the general population. He wondered if there was something he could do for them, but he quickly banished that thought. He wasn’t here to help them; he was there to hurt them. By hurting their kings, it was inevitable that many weaker lives would be lost. It was the terrible price of war, a price that would be paid regardless of his efforts.
Cha Ming was about to return to his residence, but something caught his eye. He saw a blanket filled with low-grade spirit weapons. To his surprise, the owner of the blanket and the spirit weapons was someone he recognized: Mo Ling. Somehow, she’d traveled to Bastion from Ashes. Moreover, she carried an unexpected burden. Within her weak qi-cultivating body, Cha Ming could hear a quick, pulsing rhythm that beat along with her calm heart. The tiny pulse carried blood from her body and into a small growing fetus. Mo Ling, so cold and alone, was with child.
What happened to her? Cha Ming thought. He saw no employment marks on her arms, but neither did he see a slave brand. She didn’t appear unhealthy or beaten, but neither was she thriving. Much of the youthful innocence she’d had before was gone. Conviction and determination had replaced them.
I won’t help you on this one, Sun Wukong said. Not only because of the spirit wards in the city, but because it’s something you should do. Just remember one thing: You cut ties with her for a reason. Would you be helping or hurting her if you showed yourself?
Cha Ming nodded. He walked over to her stall, but instead of stopping there, he passed by. As he did, he reached out with his mind and skimmed her memories. He expected betrayal and anger; instead, he saw a tale of sadness.
When he’d left, Mo Ling had been well-treated by the store owner. She was a hardworking employee and was quickly promoted to a full manager in the store. Her natural gifts for management and financials had impressed many people. Multiple businesses had tried to recruit her, but she’d declined them, saying she was happy where she was.
Then, a man had come into her life. He was an adventurer, and his tales had wooed the naïve Mo Ling almost instantly. After a few passionate nights together, the man had gone to a nearby spirit wood to gather beast cores. A month later, she received terrible news: The man had died, gored by a demonic boar. Roughly around th
e same time, she discovered that she was pregnant.
In the South, just like the North, it was shameful to have a child out of wedlock. So, unable to face her coworkers and friends, Mo Ling had asked to cancel her employment contract. Then, after selling what little she had, she journeyed to Bastion. Not to find Pai Xiao, but because it was the only other major city she knew of. She’d never tried to find the old smith who had taken her in. Instead, she was determined to make it on her own as a merchant. If she couldn’t do it, no one could.
Everyone had to start somewhere. Since she didn’t have the necessary capital to start a business, she’d started at the bottom. Instead of a shop, she had a blanket, and instead of premium magic-grade weapons, she had spirit weapons. Fortunately, she was a cultivator. Even with the child growing inside her, she didn’t require much in terms of food or sustenance. She saved everything she could, and if everything went as planned, she would soon have enough spirit stones to rent a shop space and fill her inventory.
You’re not going to help her? Sun Wukong asked, surprised as Cha Ming walked away.
Cha Ming shook his head. She doesn’t need my help, he said. She has everything she needs, and doing more would simply sow more karma between us. That’s the last thing she needs.
So you’re just going to leave her there? Sun Wukong said. All alone in this cruel city?
If she can’t survive this, what will she do after I’m gone? Cha Ming asked. Still, he hesitated. Was he growing harder, or was the cruel environment just rubbing off on him? I’ll check up on her, he decided. Once a week, at least. If she’s fine, I won’t do anything.
And if not? Sun Wukong asked.
Cha Ming sighed. Then I’ll help her. Karma connecting us might not be the best thing for her, but it’s better than dying. Though I somehow doubt it’ll come to that. He looked back to the stand, where a customer was fiercely haggling with Mo Ling, who was fighting for every spirit stone. He watched for a time, then left along with her satisfied customer.
Having toured the outer city, Cha Ming returned to the Blackthorn Conglomerate. He’d succeeded in the first two parts of his plan, but the third and the fourth were still waiting for him. First, he had to figure out a way to sabotage the Wang family. Then, he had to destroy Zhou Li’s pet project. More likely than not, he’d need to complete one goal to finish the other.
Chapter 17: Goals
“The past three months were all about evaluating your potential,” Tian Zhi said as they walked through the Blackthorn Conglomerate headquarters. “As you may have guessed, your future assignments and research direction will be dictated by the results.”
“Aren’t we free to research anything we like?” Cha Ming asked, following him as he led the way, not toward the research and development building as he’d expected, but toward a small corner of the outer building.
“Yes, technically speaking,” Tian Zhi said. “On your free time. But tell me—do you think your funding is truly unlimited? You need to request it, and if we think it’s not worth the expenditure, we would refuse you.” He pushed through a small door and entered a mess area where, to Cha Ming’s surprise, there were restaurants inside the conglomerate.
“I suppose not,” Cha Ming said. “The research group must have some focus areas with allocated funding.” They stopped at the back end of a line. The line itself was unsurprising, as the South prided itself on lines. Here, even mighty marrow-refining cultivators like him and Tian Zhi had to line up. Though that didn’t stop those in front of them from shuffling uncomfortably and letting them pass, if only to breathe easier when they did.
“That’s right,” Tian Zhi said. “What you showed me yesterday proves you have the skills for one of our most lucrative secret projects.” Many ears moved in from the side. Tian Zhi glared at them before shifting to mental communication. Lately, we’ve been focusing on demolition weapons.
Demolition weapons? Cha Ming asked. What a coincidence.
Exactly, Tian Zhi said. You’ve shown you have a knack for destruction even without knowing about our secret project. So, after discussing with the rest of the team, we’ve decided to have you spend half your time working on it. You’ll use the other half improving your skills however you like. We have deadlines to meet, so the faster you move up the ranks, the more useful you’ll be.
During their short conversation, they’d moved to the end of the line and arrived at a counter that, to Cha Ming’s surprise, served coffee in disposable cups. He took a sip of what they called “God’s Blessing” that Tian Zhi ordered, and to his surprise, it gave him a slight jolt. He immediately realized why it affected him. Somehow, Jin Huang’s runic coffee had made its way to the South as well.
“You don’t seem surprised by the taste,” Tian Zhi said, taking a sip of his own beverage.
“I’ve had something similar before,” Cha Ming admitted.
“Interesting,” Tian Zhi said. “We’re one of the few places in the Ji Kingdom that has a chain.” He shrugged, ignoring the seemingly inconsequential matter, and led Cha Ming back the way they’d come and into production building. They took the lift down to the research and development area and into the workshop with walls where Cha Ming had tested his spear the day prior. Three other people were present. One, a tall man with sleek brown hair, wore the green robes of an alchemist. He was walking around the debris-laden room, sensing every small residual particle with his peak resplendent force. Another, a woman wearing simple brown robes, was taking measurements and surveying the damage to the wall itself.
The third person was the most conspicuous of the lot. Instead of performing a specific task, he sat cross-legged with his hands in front of him. Tiny threads were connected to the air above his hands from many areas within the room. They poured into a variety of runic symbols that hovered there, glowing with varying intensity. To Cha Ming’s surprise, many of the runes were identical to those he’d inscribed into the weapon. Others represented common measures like total energy and energy output over time.
“Attention!” Tian Zhi shouted like a military sergeant. The others immediately stopped what they were doing and formed a line. Cha Ming shuffled uncomfortably but didn’t move to join them, as he hadn’t been instructed to. “He Yin, report!”
“Yes, sir,” He Yin, the alchemist, said. “I’ve compiled a report on the residual materials detected. I’ve concluded that though the main impact was caused by a pure single-use treasure, a few metallic combustion reactions further increased the damage to the wall. Approximately seventy percent of the metal actually vaporized in an exothermic reaction, though how this happened, I’m unsure.”
“As I suspected,” Tian Zhi said. “Pan Su, your results?”
Pan Su, obviously a geomancer, given her preoccupation with the wall itself, replied, “Using basic power-decay assumptions, I’ve pinned the spear at being able to sever a fifty-foot vertical gash in a longer wall. Too much power is wasted on the central point of impact to go any further. If the weapon’s power distribution was further optimized, perhaps it would be possible to travel another thirty feet in each direction. It’s difficult to say.”
“Good,” Tian Zhi said. “Shao Qiang?”
“I would rank the weapon as second class in effectiveness, first class in peak power potential,” the black-robed Shao Qiang said. “My auguries show limited potential for this specific line of weapon, however. Perhaps we could optimize something of a similar construction so that it could perform to mid-grade, but nothing further than that.” Cha Ming realized at that moment that he wasn’t a runic artist but a seer.
Tian Zhi frowned. “That’s high for an initial-grade weapon.”
Shao Qiang shrugged. “The runes he used are far more advanced than common smithing runes. Either the inheritance he accepted had very high runic requirements, or he’s hiding a second profession as a formation master from us. Likely the former, rather than the latter, as formation professions are rather rare around here.”
Tian Zhi looked to Cha
Ming, who nodded. “It’s true that my inheritance focused more on runes than the forging process. Fortunately, the knowledge in the library helped close many gaps in my knowledge.”
“And what do you think of their assessment?” Tian Zhi said.
“I can’t speak for geomancy, but Grandmaster He Yin is correct,” Cha Ming said. “I used an exothermic metallic reaction to fuel the runic activation. Though I don’t know about Grandmaster Shao Qiang’s view on limitations, I do sense I can improve the design.”
“There’s no need to improve on it,” Tian Zhi said, shaking his head. “We have no time to waste. Shao Qiang, have you found anything that might be useful in our current project?”
“I was about to get to that,” Shao Qiang said. He held his right hand out to the side, and the runes he’d summoned earlier followed. Then, he put out his left hand. Other runes tumbled out of his sleeves, forming a complex matrix of information above his left hand. A rune in his right hand glowed, and tiny bright tethers connected them with the complex matrix in his left. “I believe some components of the runic structure are likely to succeed in enhancing the current prototype. The metallic reaction, while pretty, likely won’t be of any benefit in our current design. We’d need to approach the project from a different angle for that. I believe we should be able to increase the destructive capabilities of the Breaker by five percent.”
“The Breaker?” Cha Ming asked, puzzled.
“It’s what we’re working on,” Tian Zhi said, waving for them to follow. They walked through a smaller door and into an office that only contained a single large table. Tian Zhi pressed on it, and a three-dimensional hologram appeared. It resembled an unusually thick spear with a dull point. He swiped, and the exterior shell faded, revealing a large assortment of interlinking parts. It contained several sharp components wrapped in bundles. “You’re thinking of the thorn tips?”
Shattered Lands: Book 8 of Painting the Mists Page 22