“You’re a terrible scout,” he concluded.
“I realize that, but—” Feng Ming started, only to be interrupted by his father.
“No buts! You should have done your duty. It’s not like you’re a commando or anything. You’re just a soldier, and soldiers follow orders. Now, how to deal with reporting this to your commander…”
Feng Ming sweated while he waited for his father’s decision. By all rights, he should be court martialed for his insubordination. However, he had performed great merit and should be rewarded. All he could hope for was that these canceled each other out.
“I’ve got it!” his father suddenly exclaimed. “The perfect reward, and the perfect punishment. I’m going to recommend to your commander that, in light of the circumstances, you decided to do what’s best for the kingdom. However, since you did break military protocol, the merit for this will cancel itself out. Now, the problem is that the general is a stickler for order in his army. You can’t stay there. So I’ll request that you be transferred to a good friend of mine. He loves crazy people like you.”
Feng Ming trembled when he heard this. “Which good friend might you be talking about?” he asked.
“Colonel Long Ping,” he replied. “Commanding officer of the Special Forces.”
A young girl wearing a large cloak was trotting down the road at night on an old brown horse. It was exhausted, but so was she. Besides, where would they stop to rest if they had no money? Running away was hardly the smartest thing Hong Xin had ever done. However, anything was better than facing her friends and family.
“Little brown,” she whispered, “it looks like I’m going to have to sell you. Otherwise we’ll both starve.” The horse couldn’t understand, of course. It was just a regular farm horse.
“I wish I wasn’t so useless,” she said aloud. “I wish I was brave like Gong Lan, smart like Wang Jun, and strong like Cha Ming.” Unfortunately, this didn’t seem to be her lot in life. Being abandoned by Wang Jun had been a crushing blow to her self esteem.
She looked into her purse and noted the contents: twenty pieces of silver, her purple hair clip, and a few days’ worth of dried rations. A night’s stay at an inn would cost her five pieces of silver, but then she wouldn’t be able to keep running for very long.
Perhaps I’ll find a stack of hay we can rest on. She didn’t know where she was going, but one thing was certain: She would find her place in life or die trying.
Dawn.
A small fox licked his lips as he saw a nearby spirit wolf walking toward his small cave dwelling with a dead spirit rabbit in its jaws. It was Huxian’s first day in the area, and he had luckily stumbled upon the perfect temporary dwelling as he recovered from his wounds. Heck, it even came with servants!
The wolf placed the fresh prey in front of Huxian and then backed away with his head down. It didn’t turn around until it left Huxian’s line of sight.
The nice thing about these servants is that I only had to beat up one of them and they all came begging to serve. So what if that wolf was a little bigger than the rest? He sighed and shook his head in contempt. Spirit beasts nowadays have no self respect.
He bit down on the chunk of raw meat while wagging his two tails. It wasn’t very filling, but it was better than nothing. Besides, he wasn’t in peak shape. The space storm had broken several of his bones and cut up his flesh quite badly. He figured it would take a few months until he fully recovered.
I wonder how Cha Ming is doing? he wondered. I know he’s still alive, but he was almost dead even before he used the talisman. The transmission function didn’t even activate. Rather, the talisman created a spatial storm and sent us both god knows where. If only I wasn’t so weak.
Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done besides recovering and finding out where he was. And what that dreadful presence was at the peak of the mountain.
Yep, it’s better to lay low for now.
It was a beautiful, sunny day in the Ming Empire. The fertile plains at the base of the mountains were filled with droves of farmers and oxen. It was the fourth day of spring, and according to local tradition, this was the best time to plant crops. The poor farmers would spend the next week planting like their lives depended on it. Farming had always been an unforgiving occupation, and everyone whose livelihood depended on it scrambled to obtain all the luck they could get.
The children were tasked with drawing water from the village, loading it onto oxen so that it could be delivered and poured on the freshly planted seeds. Hundreds of children traveled to and from the nearby river. This large river came from a nearby mountain chain. It passed by the smaller mountains and gathered water from tributary rivers. Given it massive size, it was no wonder that they didn’t see the figure of a naked man as he was washed downstream.
The young man was somehow holding onto a large log, despite being unconscious. He was riddled with cuts and covered in black burns. It was a miracle he was still alive. Despite his injuries, he continued floating past one village after another. Every so often, his eye would twitch.
Like this, Cha Ming continued to flow downstream toward an unknown destination. As he traveled, he dreamed of friendship and adventure, of a journey in the spirit woods. He dreamed of finding the Clear Sky Brush and sparring with the Monkey King.
Eventually he fell down a steep waterfall. He surfaced soon after, somehow having survived the fall and the rocks below. He washed up on shore where he was discovered by a few young children. They tried to wake him, but they couldn’t. He was having a nightmare, one that wouldn’t let him escape. In the nightmare, there were devils and angels. There was a final battle, and jade eyes with orange pupils.
There were mountains of jade and a throne of bones, and finally, a blood-red moon.
— End Book 2 —
Note to Readers
If you’ve enjoyed this book, I would greatly appreciate it if you left a rating on the site where you purchased it. Ratings lead to credibility in this competitive marketplace, and by leaving one, you signal to the world that this book is worth reading.
As some of you might know, I release each book as I write it. It wasn’t necessary for you to buy this book, but your support is greatly appreciated. If you are so inclined, you can continue reading as I write at:
https://royalroadl.com/fiction/16320/painting-the-mists
I can’t promise fully edited or proofread content, but I will do my best to continue maintaining frequent and high-quality releases.
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Acknowledgments
As I continue to write, I find that this list of acknowledgments grows. There are far too many people to thank—if I missed you, I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.
Just like before, I would like to acknowledge my parents, who continue to encourage me on my journey in writing this novel series. Likewise, thanks go to my two brothers and my sister. More specifically, thank you to Denis, who has finally started reading the series after much persuasion. Levi will fall in line eventually.
Thank you to all my friends once again. I recently took some time off work to focus on writing, and after talking to them, I’m convinced that I’ve made the right decision. Thank you to Dave for once again beta reading Book 2. And once again, thank you to my friend Usama, who is now a recurring character in my prologues.
Thank you to my girlfriend, Xing Wen, who continues to support me as I write this series.
Many thanks to Crystal Watanabe for her excellent support while editing my novel. My writing
continues to improve with her help, so I’m glad to have her on board.
Thank you once again to Michael Vasilev for the excellent cover. It far surpassed my expectations.
Thank you, Tinalyngue, author of Blue Phoenix, for your continued coaching. I’ve avoided many pitfalls due to your help. I would also like to thank Deathblade (currently translating A Will Eternal by Er Gen) and Tinalynge from wuxiaworld.com for their shout-outs.
Thank you to my patrons, who fund me and believe in me. They are a great encouragement as I continue writing.
Finally, thank you to my readers. I write to tell stories to people, and a story is worth nothing if it isn’t shared.
About the Author
Patrick Georges Laplante was born in a small town in the Canadian prairies in 1987. He began publishing Painting the Mists online under the pseudonym RedMirage in January 2018.
An engineer by trade, he graduated from the University of Alberta in 2009 and completed his master’s degree in 2011. While writing and engineering have little in common, he actively utilizes his experiences and attention to detail in fleshing out a vivid world and answering the “whys,” which are often left unanswered in Xianxia fiction.
As an avid vegan, he aims to prompt internal reflection in his readers through various themes like non-violence, choice, and begging the question: Is personhood restricted to humanity? And what is proper conduct, morality, and love?
His work is inspired by a combination of Western fiction, Dungeons and Dragons, Chinese web novels, and various Japanese, Korean, and Chinese comics and illustrated novels.
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