Pure Jade

by Patrick Laplante

  Cha Ming noticed that she didn’t say status. As far as they were concerned, money equaled status.

  “Right this way,” she said once more, curling her finger for him to follow.

  The thick feeling of unease from outside the building returned. As he passed a smith who was beating away recklessly at a sword, his eyes itched more than ever. It was as though they were closed and wanted to open. So open them he did. His Eyes of Pure Jade activated on reflex, revealing a much different scenery than he was used to. The blacksmith he had been looking at shone deep yellow, even deeper than other cultivators he had seen before. The woman who accompanied him, however, was not tainted with any specific hue.

  Perhaps this is an outlier? Cha Ming thought. He had wandered the city quite extensively over the past two months, and this was the first time he had felt such an intense reaction from his Eyes of Pure Jade. His eyes darted back to the other shops, verifying their employees. Everyone was normal, save for a few customers with light yellow coloring.

  “Is everything all right?” the guide asked once more.

  Seeing Cha Ming nod, they proceeded to the next room. It was filled with various small courtyards. Cha Ming’s incandescent force could not penetrate their doors. “This is our information center. You can purchase almost any kind of information there.”

  “What if I wanted information on one of your customers?” Cha Ming asked.

  She looked at him quizzically. “That depends on a few factors. We will never report on matters of senior members, but junior members are fair game. For regular customers, it depends if they’ve purchased anonymity. Contracts are very important to us, so we will respect purchased anonymity. But you must understand that information is worth quite a bit of money. Purchasing anonymity comes at a cost that often exceeds the revenue we can generate from the information. Surely you understand this principle.”

  Cha Ming only vaguely listened. He spent his time looking for unusual signs. He found none, but the ominous feeling was still increasing.

  “Here is Sigil Master Guo Jia’s office,” she continued. “He is in high demand; therefore, he is often out of office.”

  Cha Ming’s attention snapped back to reality.

  “What did you say the sigil master’s name was?” he asked, trying his utmost to mask his facial expression.

  “Guo Jia,” she said. “Are you already acquaintances?”

  “No,” Cha Ming said, shaking his head. “I misheard.” He rubbed a spot on his forehead that still stung from his enslavement. “Please continue.”

  They proceeded through the residential quarter where many members stayed. The décor was top notch, a few tiers higher than Cha Ming’s accommodations at the Talisman Artist Guild. The guide continued to explain the several benefits he would receive should he choose to join the Obsidian Syndicate. Cha Ming had to ask her to repeat herself more than once, as he was distracted by the eerie yellow-and-ochre glow peeking out from many of the residence doors. He decided that this was likely the cause of his agitation. This place had at least a dozen devils and devil cultivators.

  “Is there anything else I should see?” Cha Ming asked.

  “Of course,” she replied. “If you ever need hired muscle, you can always come to the Mercenary Pavilion for top-tier fighters.” She led him to a stone building with a sign at the entrance. The sign only had a single sword drawn in bloody ink. It gave Cha Ming the willies.

  “After you, sir,” she said, holding the door open.

  Cha Ming walked in cautiously. He heard raucous laughter and breaking glass. He smelled iron and blood. He saw a sea of orange, at least fifty foundation-establishment devils biding their time. He finally realized the Obsidian Syndicate’s true colors, and the reason why his eyes itched so badly. His eyes had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t listened.

  The Obsidian Syndicate was a den of devils, and he had walked right into it.

  “You seem uncomfortable,” a grave voice said. Cha Ming looked up at the somber silhouette in black cultivator’s robes.

  “Not at all, Senior Partner Yang,” Cha Ming said.

  “You’re lying,” the man stated with a deadpan expression. “I hate it when people lie to me.”

  Cha Ming gulped. His incandescent force was useless in evaluating the man before him. Which made sense given that he was a transcendent cultivator. “I admit that I am uncomfortable. Not only have I never seen a transcendent cultivator before, but it’s my first time seeing so many foundation-establishment and core-formation cultivators in one location. I confess myself impressed at the Obsidian Syndicate’s foundation.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy the man, who leaned forward and spoke in a gentler voice. “It’s natural that you feel this way. After all, you are young and inexperienced. But you are a talented man, and we greatly value talent. I promise you that if you join us, you will have substantial freedom, and your monthly stipend will be exorbitant. This has nothing to do with your current accomplishments but my estimate of your future achievements.

  “Cultivation techniques, battle techniques, talisman formulas… these can all be yours at the snap of my finger. You will grow stronger at an unimaginable pace. And as a member, you will enjoy access to many of our restricted goods and services.”

  While it did sound tempting, Cha Ming was nervous for several other reasons. His greatest worry was the man before him. He knew that his true shape was much different than what the naked eye could see. Behind the mask of skin and bones was a monster through and through, an ochre giant with deadly horns that could crush him at any moment.

  “I need some time to consider,” Cha Ming said. “I imagine that these benefits come with obligations?

  “Naturally,” the man said. “Nothing in this world is free of charge.”

  “May I have a copy of the contract to review?” Cha Ming asked. “This is a very important decision.”

  The man chuckled. “Of course you can. But be warned that the document is cursed. It is linked to your presence, and should other eyes see it, we will know. If you choose to accept, sign it in blood. If you choose to reject it, burn it and we will be informed accordingly. However, if you should wish to lose your life… then by all means, let others see it. Do you understand?”

  Cha Ming paled. “I understand.”

  “Great,” the man said. “I like straightforward people. You have great talent. Make sure to take advantage of this important growth period, when your ambition is at its fullest. Don’t be foolish and squander it like many idealists out there.”

  Cha Ming stored the contract inside a normal bag of holding. He didn’t dare show off the Clear Sky World in front of a transcendent cultivator. Then he hid his agitation and proceeded outside the building under the supervision of his eye-catching guide. It was only once he left through those ebony doors that he dared breathe normally.

  Using his incandescent force, he hid away from the throng of people on the streets and disappeared. A half hour later, he reappeared inside his residence at the Talisman Artist Guild. Then, locking himself away, he withdrew the black package containing the employment contract. He burned it without looking. There was no sense in dealing with devils. He would rather die a thousand deaths than chance corrupting his soul.

  A week passed, and Cha Ming entered a period of seclusion. He took full advantage of Jun Xiezi’s painting, Samsara, to practice the talismans he had already learned. By the end of the week, his success rate in painting these talismans exceeded fifty percent. He knew that it would be impossible to improve them without substantially improving his crafting skills, so he decided to diversify his attention to other least-grade talismans. It didn’t take long for him to master a wind talisman, Void Rend Talisman, and a lightning talisman, Nine Heavens Lightning Talisman.

  Eventually, Cha Ming’s emotional stability recovered, and he created another batch of poetic talismans. These were his trump cards, key items that would preserve his life in times of danger.

  Talisman craftin
g aside, Cha Ming continued his usual efforts at cultivation. He advanced slowly but surely, gaining steady ground at a rate that would make many envious. Still, he knew it wasn’t enough. A storm was brewing in the Song Kingdom, and it was only a matter of time until it erupted.

  A storm raged in the Silverwing Mountain Range. The thunder woke Huxian from a deep and pleasant dream. In this dream, he was a master talisman artist. Many people respected him, and he developed his craft at a frightening pace. In fact, his works had gained the attention of the branch guild leader, a powerful figure who could kill mostly anyone in the city without fear of repercussions.

  Why do I keep dreaming I’m human? he thought. Isn’t it best to be a demon beast? Besides, when I transcend, I’ll be able to take on human form. There will be no disadvantages and only advantages to being a demon beast then.

  “Master, you’ve awakened,” Lei Jiang said dutifully. His surroundings were filled with static that caused Huxian’s fur to stand on end. Which he was fine with him. Spiked hair was in fashion nowadays.

  “Have you seen Silverwing?” Huxian asked the purple mouse. As usual, the tiny mouse shook its tiny head. “He’ll come and see us when he’s ready. There’s no rushing someone when they’re upset.”

  Who’s upset? a voice yelled out to them mentally. The proud Silverwing was flying overhead, clearly showing off his glittering wings under the sunlight.

  “You look different today,” Huxian said.

  The falcon swooped down toward the ground in an exaggerated fashion, stopping mere inches from the rocky peak of the mountain. As Huxian looked him over, he felt a faint presence that hadn’t been there before. He also noticed Silverwing’s silver feathers had doubled in number.

  “You’ve made a breakthrough in the blood-concentrating technique?” Huxian said with a bewildered expression.

  “That’s right,” Silverwing said. “This elder brother is a talent among talents. Naturally, a silly blood-concentration technique is nothing for me. It’s only a matter of time until I break through the second, third, and fourth stages.”

  “You have no idea how talented you are,” Huxian said. By all rights, it should have been impossible. He’d specifically chosen the least effective technique to gift the bird in the hopes of having it surrender to his will. But Silverwing had defied all expectations and succeeded where tens of thousands had failed. “Will you be breaking through to core formation soon, then?”

  The bird shook his head. “I’m in no rush. Besides, I can vaguely feel that concentrating my bloodline before forming my core will give me many advantages later on. Also, I want to find out what these tasty inherited memories are.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” Huxian said, shaking his head. “You’ll need to concentrate your blood to the fifth stage of your current technique to stand a chance. However, if you had a stronger technique…”

  Huxian’s voice trailed off when he saw the bird’s angry glare. This was unfortunate, because he had been about to offer a stronger one with no strings attached. He’d lost far too much face, it seemed. How would his friend react if he knew that he’d been tricked the entire time? “…but it shouldn’t be necessary. With your natural talent, it’s not impossible. You need to make sure that you concentrate your bloodline to the point where you gain inherited memories before forming your core. Otherwise you’ll never gain them in your entire life.”

  The bird snorted. “This bird naturally knows what’s best. Just watch and learn. Either way, that’s not the reason I came here. How could I possibly be so bored as to come show off to you guys?”

  “Did something happen?” Huxian asked.

  “The humans have come,” the bird whispered.

  Huxian’s expression became somber. “How many, and how strong?

  “A hundred in each of two groups, all foundation-establishment cultivators,” Silverwing replied. “Some are the lowest of the low, while others are peak-foundation-establishment cultivators. There is also an existence at core formation. I’m too weak to evaluate him.”

  Huxian clicked his tongue. “How troublesome. Between our two peaks, we only have two hundred or so demon beasts. However, the humans are crafty. They have weapons, formations, talismans, and medicinal pills. We only have our claws and our bloodlines to rely on.” He looked at Silverwing. “Would any of the sovereigns help us?”

  “Unlikely,” the falcon said. “Perhaps I can convince one or two if worse comes to worst. Fortunately, we have the advantage in terrain, especially with your mountain’s geomantic boa.”

  “What about the monarch?” Huxian asked. The mystical owl was the mountain range’s true hidden reserve. Sadly, he was unlikely to act just to save one mountain and some immortal jade.

  “You know as well as I that he loves honor and face entirely too much,” Silverwing said. “Unless a core-formation cultivator participates, he’ll just shut himself away and watch us die.”

  “A pity,” Huxian said. “What did their leaders look like?”

  The falcon sniffed. “They are both disgusting characters. They make me shiver. One of them has black hair and red pupils. He looked at me once, and it burned me. The other one is a young man dressed in green who loves drinking tea. His hair is gold like the sun, with a few stripes of white. But even with my keen eyesight I had trouble seeing him. He’s constantly surrounded in shadows.”

  Hearing this familiar description, Huxian’s foxy muzzle opened into a grin. “Blond hair with white stripes, you say? What a coincidence, a friend of a friend of mine looks exactly like that.”

  Chapter 19: Blowing off Steam

  Cha Ming was restless. He had spent the past two weeks practicing his talismans and cultivating, but unfortunately, increasing his strength in this method would take time, time he didn’t have. After mastering the most basic least-grade talismans, he knew that the limitations in his qi cultivation would make mastering others an arduous process that would take months or years.

  Cultivation, Cha Ming thought. It’s all about increasing my cultivation base. If I don’t increase it, I can’t progress in talisman crafting, and my fighting prowess won’t grow. Typically, cultivators would temper themselves with endless fighting. But he didn’t have a cause to fight for; he wasn’t one to fight for no reason.

  This was why Cha Ming was currently walking down a seedy street. It was a fine spring day, but he barely noticed the chilly wind. His resistance to the elements had skyrocketed with his cultivation realm. He was now immune to normal weather temperatures and day-to-day fatigue. As he walked, he saw several shivering figures—beggars. The type that couldn’t support themselves.

  I should really do something about this, he thought. He had given money away money to beggars in the past, only to see it stolen away by organized crime within minutes. If I want to help these people, I first need to protect them.

  He entered a run-down restaurant that was suffering from lack of business, the type that most people wouldn’t want to frequent. The moment he entered, the owner was fawning over him like no one ever had—this was the discrepancy in their status. After a quarter hour of negotiations, his bag of holding became a few spirit stones lighter.

  Their arrangement was simple: He would feed the homeless people outside for the next month. The funds Cha Ming provided included enough to hire extra staff and mercenaries to keep the peace. Cha Ming would return in one month, and if he saw that the money was being wisely spent, he would keep the restaurant perpetually occupied. The only cost was that the inn had to cast away what little reputation it had. The inn’s owner was in dire financial straits and couldn’t help but agree to his proposal. And while Cha Ming knew that a certain amount would be embezzled, his status as a master artist would limit this expenditure through fear.

  This small business settled, he entered the Mercenary Guild beside it. It was filled with honorable and unsavory characters alike, most of which were huddled around tables over drinks. They were discussing their upcoming missions.

/>   “May I help you?” a large mountain of a man asked Cha Ming as he approached the wooden desk.

  “Where can I find mission postings?” Cha Ming asked.

  The man pointed him to a large jade tablet that contained various shifting lines of text. “Just project your incandescent force into the mission wall, and you will be able to view all available postings,” the man said.

  Cha Ming nodded and did just that, quickly browsing through the hundreds of missions.

  There were many types available. Some involved killing beasts that had been causing issues; others involved clearing out bandit dens or bringing murderers and thieves to justice. Other postings requested guards for merchant caravans or temporary guards for businesses. Virtually any type of posting was available.

  But what Cha Ming was looking for was rather specific. In his limited experience, it seemed that the devils were unlikely to be handled by the army, which meant that such cases could only be handled by the Mercenary Guild.

  Mission #4950671: Eliminate the Silver Mountain Thieves. One early-foundation-establishment cultivator, eight ninth-grade qi-condensation cultivators, and other miscellaneous troops. Robbed a merchant caravan carrying important medicinal herbs. Reward: 1,000 mid-grade spirit stones. Will pay for recovered medicinal herbs at wholesale price.

  Mission #4950679: Rescue Baron Ling’s Daughter. Baron Ling’s daughter was abducted shortly after her engagement ceremony. Reward: 20,000 mid-grade spirit stones for successful rescue. Additional reward of 10,000 mid-grade spirit stones if culprits are captured.

  He sifted through these various missions. Most of them seemed like virtuous outings, but his eyes couldn’t help but flicker toward the small percentage of yellow-stained cultivators in the room. There were also cultivators who emanated a light jade glow.

  Mission #4950684: Eliminate the Swiftwind Bandits. These bandits have been plaguing Goldbar County, plundering farmers in unprotected areas. Strength is unknown. Reward: Can only offer either 10,000 mid-grade spirits stones or equivalent wholesale value in local ore production.