Shattered Lands: Book 8 of Painting the Mists

by Laplante, Patrick

  He fed it, bit by bit, expanding against the tight restriction of his core. Whenever the bubble gave way, he increased the amount of qi he stored within it, forcing the runic structure outward little by little. This happened several times. The tiny increases pressed up against the invisible but firm barrier. Then, when cracks began to appear all over the exterior shell and showed no signs of healing, Cha Ming finally sucked in sharply, drawing in all the elemental energy he could from the top-grade spirit stones. His core drank greedily. It expanded.

  Crystal dust piled up around him as energy surged into the formation. Unsurprisingly, the crystals he’d prepared weren’t enough. Cha Ming summoned the rest of his top-grade spirit stones and placed them on the formation. His prolonged “inhalation” sucked a third of the remaining crystals dry as the formation rushed to convert them to the appropriate elemental energies. They hovered around him like a colored mosaic, his body restricting their inflow as his core, which had just broken through, began building upon itself.

  The core expanded. The runic structure expanded. As it did, the patches of five colors grew. The black and white lines on his core did as well. They formed larger solid islands on the perfect sphere. Where there were no colors, where there were no black and white islands, there was gray, filling in the gaps where nothing else fit in. The gray was a mixture of all five colors, a mixture of black and white. It was the beginning and the end.

  Building this final layer took far longer than it had in the past. It grew by the same diameter as last time, but the increased diameter meant a much greater surface area and volume. Then, when the runic structure was built, and the gaps were filled, the core began to hum in satisfaction. The surface vibrated and began to meld with his Dantian, which was now fully occupied.

  The melding was slow and gradual, like a pill that took time to take effect. In a way, it reminded Cha Ming of the process of crafting a runic pill. At first, everything was melted down, like liquid qi. The qi was formed into shapes, like foundational pillars, which he built up into a complex array. Then everything would collapse on itself and form a spherical pill.

  Like any pill, it needed an outer shell. No pill seemed to be complete without it. The melding of his Dantian membrane was much like slowly roasting a pill at its melting point, creating a lustrous surface free of imperfections, ideal for inscribing a pill seal. In a sense, rune carving was to his core what pill seals were to pills. And like pills, there were likely grades to these carvings. He wondered what quality of seal he would end up with, if such a thing really did exist for rune carving.

  Weeks passed as the melding continued. Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. He was left with something resembling a multicolored marble floating in a point in space that his qi fed into. There was no Dantian, only a core. But it didn’t feel unnatural—rather, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, like this was what the human body was designed to accommodate. Qi cultivation, it seemed, was just an approximation. It was a feeble attempt at recreating what should have been there in the first place.

  Cha Ming let a light puff out of his lungs, releasing tiny residual impurities that had broken free during his breakthrough. He didn’t immediately get up but continued absorbing energy into his core. It had completely emptied itself out during its rapid growth, so he continued draining away his spirit stones one at a time.

  A full week passed before his core was filled to capacity with a thick, fluid qi that felt more like liquid than a gas. It somehow traveled in and out of his core without need for porosity. The solid and fluid overlapped without any issue, just like it always had when his qi was thinner.

  “The peak of core formation,” Cha Ming said. “At long last.”

  “The next step is rune carving,” Sun Wukong said. “Though I’d imagine you don’t want to do that right now. You’d be severely restricted on this plane if you did.” He was busy picking his sharp teeth with his staff, as he often did. Despite his strictness as an instructor, he couldn’t help but lounge in an undisciplined fashion whenever he was teaching.

  “No, the next step isn’t rune carving,” Cha Ming said, shaking his head. “I still need more power while I’m here. I’ll perform a pre-carving first.”

  The Monkey King stopped picking his teeth.

  “Are you sure?” Sun Wukong said, creasing his brow in worry. “If you pre-carve your core, you still need to etch lines. You’ll be stuck along this path when you decide to advance.”

  “Is there really a need to etch?” Cha Ming asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was going to try something different.”

  “Which is?” Sun Wukong asked, leaning in curiously.

  “Why, I have this wonderful brush,” Cha Ming said. “I might as well try painting it.”

  “Painting it,” Sun Wukong said flatly. “Painting your core.”

  Cha Ming shrugged. “If any brush can do it, it’s this one.”

  Sun Wukong thought for a moment, then shrugged as well. Cha Ming ignored him and instead focused on his core, which floated in the void, superimposed with his body. He imagined the Clear Sky Brush, and unsurprisingly, it appeared, floating outside in empty space. It didn’t contain any overwhelming presence like it did in the world outside. It behaved like a perfectly normal paintbrush.

  Motivated by the stubborn brush’s cooperation, Cha Ming urged the liquified elemental essence he kept stored in his brush to the tip. The ink was soft blue, glowing with unaffiliated energy, sterilized from the natural evanescence that normally dosed it. He began painting. He didn’t paint runes like he usually did. These were runic fragments like those he’d seen on the Bridge of Stars. He painted them on the lustrous surface one at a time, and to his surprise, they moved about as he did.

  The painting was excruciatingly slow. Every character he painted took an hour. While this might not seem like a long time to those outside, it was still around twelve minutes per runic fragment from an outsider’s perspective. Every character he painted migrated to its proper place, just like runes did on the Myriad Truths Diagram. Soon he finished painting the 300th character. A full thick circular outline was complete. Only the inside remained.

  Since these unaligned runes were finished, Cha Ming changed to colored ink. He first painted the five elements, the core of the thirty. There were thirty elemental runic fragments, one for each of the mixtures. Five creative mixtures of two like water and wood, five destructive mixtures of two like fire and metal. Five allied mixtures of three, such as earth, metal, and water; five opposing mixtures of three such as wood, fire, and metal. Then, five mixtures of four.

  The moment the last colored fragment fell into place, the unaligned runic fragments came to life. Color seeped from the inner circle and into the outer circle. It followed the pathways he’d painted in elemental essence, obeying the truth they conveyed. The color bled to each of them, bringing an additional dimension of meaning where uncertain hints had once existed.

  When the final colors appeared, Cha Ming’s metaphysical hand trembled as he poured white creation essence into the brush. His brush flowed like the wind itself as he painted a perfect circle onto his core. It bit around itself like an ouroboros eating its own tail. He then switched to destruction essence, the riskiest of the bunch. He only dared draw it because the circle of creation essence he’d already painted. The black ink attempted to etch itself into his lustrous core, but fortunately, the white circle kept it from doing so. Instead, it could only wait patiently as Cha Ming painted jagged, lightning-filled lines that threatened to destroy the entire matrix.

  He completed the star without a hitch. Then he proceeded to the next step. He concentrated five elemental essences into a gray ink, which, instead of painting normally, he simply dabbed into the center of the diagram in as small a dot as possible.

  That small dot brought the diagram to life. The complete Myriad Truths Diagram, which he’d only seen in its full magnificence on Jade Moon Planet, suddenly glowed on his core. Energy from all around him rushed in
, completely crushing apart the spirit stones on the outside, and even the flags and ink he’d used to draw the energy-gathering formation so many months ago.

  His surroundings screamed, and even Jade Moon Garden trembled as his qi raged. Now his qi was less a fluid and more an embodiment of… something. He wasn’t sure. But as he summoned it around his body, he felt its potency had increased threefold and a third. Further, his qi covered every inch of his skin with a multicolored pattern. It was paper thin—no, it was thinner than paper. It was as thin as anything dared be without ceasing to exist.

  And it was his. That film, so thin, so intangible that it seemed like any blade could easily tear through it, was his and his alone. It seemed like an inviolable part of him, an area that, despite its thinness, he could completely control.

  Cha Ming summoned his Clear Sky Staff and willed the film to move. It did so, creeping up the staff at his direction. The air inside the Clear Sky World crackled as he swung his staff casually. He frowned, then stowed it.

  “Congratulations,” Sun Wukong said. “You’ve birthed a pseudo domain. It’s like a nascent domain but weaker. About a third as weak, though that threefold increase is a greater gap than you can imagine. It is the gap between being powerful in this plane—able to damage it—and being a threat, able to tear it apart with enough effort.” He grinned, revealing his sharp, pointed teeth in the process. “You’re now a half-step-rune-carving cultivator.”

  At long last, he had the power to protect himself. He’d fought transcendents before, but he’d found that he was slightly weaker than they were. Of course, the plane’s will fought against them every step of the way, but that didn’t help the fact that, if he were attacked by enough transcendents, their raw power would overwhelm him despite his regenerative and defensive abilities.

  Now, however, he had an additional weapon. This pseudo domain covered him like a thin armor. His qi had evolved beyond being a shield. It would now enable him to defend himself, and even fight back against transcendents. It made his goal in Bastion much more achievable. Now there was only one more thing he could do to strengthen himself—find the Gold Source Marrow and break through to half-step blood awakening.

  Chapter 26: Leyline of Gold

  Cha Ming summoned a portal and exited the Clear Sky World. The runic shield, which he’d erected before entering the independent space, was still fully functional. Large boulders had fallen onto it, though they hardly posed a threat to the solid, condensed shield that surrounded the crystalized gold evanescence. The earth was trembling faintly, and dust was settling. It seemed a tremor had occurred just before his arrival.

  With his return to the outside world, he felt the leaching on his vitality increase again. Even with his superior body cultivation, he would only last around a month within the life-draining miasma.

  That’s going to be a problem, he thought. Then, wondering, he summoned his qi as a thin membrane like he had before. The membrane only took about a quarter of his qi, but to his surprise, it completely locked out the intrusion of the leaching force. He sighed in relief. Despite whatever was causing the leaching, he now had some confidence in facing it.

  Cha Ming turned to the column of crystalized elemental evanesce and placed his hand on it. He transferred the entire thing directly into the Clear Sky World; no sense in leaving it behind if he wasn’t staying. The unowned object disappeared, leaving behind a five-foot crater. The crystal had been twelve feet long at its largest.

  The chamber trembled slightly as the crystal disappeared. Cha Ming ignored the trembling and eyed the tunnels, which were more stable than the one he’d come from. They led deeper into the fissure.

  “I think it’s high time we left, Teacher Sun,” Cha Ming said. “We only have so much time to wander about. If we take too long, we might miss out on the show in the city.” Things were moving quickly on the surface, and he’d already spent one month mining and one month consolidating his strength and breaking through. He needed to get back as soon as possible.

  “My suggestion,” Sun Wukong said, “is to find whatever is causing the leaching.”

  “Oh?” Cha Ming asked. “Why’s that?”

  “Whatever it is, it’s likely alive,” Sun Wukong said. “Life-leaching gold is one thing, but this? It’s something else entirely.”

  Cha Ming nodded. Then, cautiously, he entered one of the fissures. The jagged rocks on the walls were cracked, and rubble filled the rocky floor beneath him.

  “But even if it’s alive, why should we go looking for it?” Cha Ming asked. “Whatever it is, it hardly seems benevolent.” He ducked beneath an obstruction, then, seeing the path was clear, he flew forward for a few hundred feet before stopping again. Here, the ceiling had caved in. He summoned his Clear Sky Staff and struck out with an Origin Strike, demolishing and evaporating the stones simultaneously. The strike came easily to him. It seemed his enhanced qi was far better suited to executing the advanced technique.

  “I find it very unlikely that it’s stronger than you,” Sun Wukong said, appearing beside him and peering into the dark tunnel past the remaining rubble. “If it’s sentient, it ought to know the area.”

  Cha Ming raised an eyebrow. “And you’re thinking it’ll tell us how to get out?”

  “Of course,” Sun Wukong said, grinning. “If not, I’m sure enough poking and prodding will convince it to let you leave. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Fair enough,” Cha Ming said, flying forward once again. “If brute force isn’t solving all your problems, you just aren’t using enough of it.”

  They traveled straight for a time, but before long, the tunnel bent. It traveled perpendicular to the previous fissure, continuing until it reached another jagged opening. There, small shivering rocks covered the wall of the fissure. Some were as small as half a fist, while others were larger than a human head. He took a step, and what he’d originally assumed was a rock splashed and cracked beneath his foot. Thick blue blood, cold, not warm, leaked out from it.

  “Heavens above,” Cha Ming whispered. “What is this place?”

  The walls were covered in thousands of tiny pustules, wartlike pieces of flesh that clung to the rocks, refusing to budge. Some shivered, and some heaved as they breathed. Their hard shells crackled as they moved. The larger ones were less smooth. They were covered in soft metallic hairs. This wasn’t an underground fissure, it seemed, but a lair. What he’d stepped on wasn’t a strange rock—it was a spider egg.

  Quick, quick, quick, Cha Ming thought, floating up above the floor and flying forward through the tunnel. A cobweb stuck to his skin as he flew through, torn off the wall. A carcass came with it. It was the small drained carcass of a demon fox. He grimaced and summoned Grandmist flames. They engulfed the web and the corpse, destroying both completely and utterly until not even ash remained.

  He flew through the tunnel with uncharacteristic slowness, gazing at the soft but hard-shelled infants that lined it. He didn’t hate many things, but spiders were one of the few he did. If it was between spiders and facing Zhou Li again, he’d choose the latter in a heartbeat.

  At the end of the tunnel, Cha Ming stopped. He hovered in the hallway and cocked his ear, his eyes widening when he heard skittering sounds. Clenching his teeth, he rounded the corner. He was greeted by the stuff of nightmares.

  A giant cave five times larger than the last one appeared before him. The floor, the walls, and even the ceiling of the tunnel was covered in a writhing mass of skeletal spiders. Their metallic exoskeletons gleamed under the illumination of a large golden crystal at the center of the room. Like the last one, it, too, was crystalized gold evanescence. It was ten times larger than the last one.

  The spiders scuttled as a unit, squirming when they saw him. Larger ones approached, their dripping fangs biting at him. He wanted nothing more than to smash them all to bits, but with great reluctance, he stowed his staff and held out his hand, summoning a golden shield of combat sigils that repelled them. The spiders clanked off harm
lessly. After a few futile attempts, they backed away warily.

  Despite his intrusion, the spiders continued their work around the crystal. They didn’t chip away at it like Bear One had but covered it in some sort of acidic slime. A pool of gold evanescence lay at its base. Some of the larger spiders took turns sipping at its contents, shuffling away as a golden sheen appeared on their exoskeletons.

  To take or not to take? Cha Ming thought, tapping his fingers on his chin. Somehow he felt like a burglar, an intruder who had snuck into their home and was coveting their hard-earned possessions. They’d laid claim to the pillar, and if the soft pustules from before were any indication, this was where they were nurturing their next generation.

  He sighed, then called out, “Who is your leader?”

  The spiders shuffled as though not understanding. He waited, however, as he knew that demons were intelligent. They could communicate if they chose to do so. A few torturous seconds passed before more skittering filled the cavern. Large legs covered in bristling metallic hair poked out from one of the four entrances to the chamber, revealing the largest spider Cha Ming had ever seen. It eyed him with sixty-four large beady eyes that had a hypnotic quality to them.

  Why have you intruded on our lair, human? the spider asked. Will you take the fight for ore down here to our young? Is your honor so lacking? It grew slightly as it spoke. Demonic qi rushed into it, causing the metallic hairs on its legs to sharpen and take on a golden hue. Know this: If we fight here, we fight to the death. I would rather see this cave collapse on you and destroy everyone here rather than risk the rest of our brood.

  Cha Ming shivered as he eyed its mandibles, which dripped corrosive acid onto the rocky ground. All around him, tiny beady eyes and tiny sets of mandibles prepared to attack him. Even the tiniest of spiders was like a coiled spring, ready to pounce.