Shattered Lands: Book 8 of Painting the Mists

by Laplante, Patrick

  “Seen a lift before, have you?” Tian Zhi asked. “It’s the only way in and out of the research complex.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” Cha Ming asked, noticing that the walls hummed with a soft music to pass the time as the dreadfully slow contraption progressed. “What if the lift breaks?”

  Tian Zhi shrugged. “It might be a mechanism, but it’s a core-level artifice. The whole building is made of stone, and experiments are conducted in explosion-proof rooms. If the lift stops functioning, at least one of us should be able to fix it, and if not, we’re all cultivators. We can wait for help.”

  “Fair enough,” Cha Ming said. Safety was so much simpler when cultivators were involved.

  Soon enough, the elevator opened into a small room with clear walls. Tian Zhi approached the wall and motioned to a small clear panel on it. He pulled back his sleeve and pointed to a black thorn-covered tattoo on his forearm—his employment mark.

  “To enter the facility,” Tian Zhi explained, “one must verify their employment contract. It has to be the right kind of employment contract as well. Normal ones will be refused access along with some… unpleasant surprises.” Instead of scanning his own arm, he gestured for Cha Ming to do so first. “You’re the new one here. Scan your employment mark. If you’ve been wasting my time and you’re a fraud, I’ll just kill you and get on with my day.”

  As a peak-marrow-refining cultivator, the man had reason to be confident in his strength.

  Cha Ming gulped, but he did as he was told. He pulled back his sleeve and revealed the employment mark, a tattoo of thorny black patterns complete with a runic identification number. He pressed it against the plate, which hummed. The door opened, and Cha Ming walked inside. It closed immediately afterward, opening once more to allow Tian Zhi inside.

  “Welcome to the Blackthorn Conglomerate’s Research and Development Center!” Tian Zhi said, holding out his hand.

  Cha Ming gaped at what he saw. Instead of the slightly tall ceiling and tight hallways he’d expected of the underground facility, he saw a massive underground structure. It wasn’t just a single floor, but several dozen floors in the bottom of the building, all combined in a massive space. The ceiling was illuminated by giant crystalline lights that not only provided light but ambient qi.

  Instead of the small laboratories Cha Ming had expected, he saw people walking about, talking happily. Large contraptions were being built out in the open air beside underground herb gardens.

  “You can work anywhere you like, really,” Tian Zhi said. “But if you kill anyone, we’ll kill you, as per Clause 15.3 of your contract. If you’re doing anything dangerous, you need to use the research workshops.” He pointed to the building closest to them on the left. “Each one is equipped with the best in safety systems, including explosion-proof walls for witnessing tests or shielding during crafting.” He then pointed to the back. “That building is our research library, to which you now have full access.”

  “That,” he said, pointing to the building to their right, “is the arboretum.” The glass building was mostly transparent and spiraled upward like a beanstalk. “We grow our most exotic plants there for the alchemists. You’re not allowed in without permission.”

  Cha Ming nodded absently. The last plot of land was more an open yard than anything else. It contained a squat but sturdy building. Piles of materials lay within fenced areas on the open ground.

  “I take it that’s the storehouse?” Cha Ming said.

  Tian Zhi nodded. “That’s right. If you need any materials, ask them, and they’ll fetch them for you. If you need anything special, ask me directly, and I’ll get them from the vault upstairs.”

  “All right,” Cha Ming said. “Any orders or assignments?” Pai Xiao would be eager to learn, but he was an employee after all.

  Tian Zhi snorted. “Don’t bother trying to hide it. You want to shore up what you know and dig into our precious library.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide it, Boss Tian,” Cha Ming said. “I’m just aware that I need to devote a certain amount of time to special projects. You might also have a direction you’d like me to focus my studies on.”

  Tian Zhi nodded. “Like everyone else, you’ll be assigned to reconciliation duty for three months.”

  “Reconciliation duty?” Cha Ming asked, confused. Was he supposed to apologize to someone on his first day?

  “We want productive employees, not distracted ones,” Tian Zhi said. “That applies doubly so for research and development staff. If you’re distracted by what’s out there, you’re not doing anyone any good. That’s why we have all new employees focus on shoring up their lower-level knowledge. Your assignment is to review the material in the library and propose corrections to it. You can verify anything you like by using a workshop, and the materials will be supplied free of charge. Each of your proposed corrections will be evaluated. Any successful corrections will be rewarded based on your contract rates. Bear in mind that any incorrect corrections proposed, though you won’t be punished directly for them, will make me very grumpy. And the last thing you want is a grumpy boss.”

  “All right, then,” Cha Ming said. “I don’t suppose I have to go back to my residence every night?”

  Tian Zhi smirked. “Though you’re not supposed to use them for frivolous reasons, people have been known to sleep in the workshops. It’s technically against the rules, but who am I to blame a man for working himself to exhaustion and collapsing inside a lab?”

  They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Cha Ming went directly to the library. He wouldn’t read only to learn, but also to unlearn. If he exposed too much knowledge, the cover he’d spent months carefully crafting would be gone in the blink of an eye.

  Chapter 16: Standing Out

  Time flowed like a river. In the first month, Cha Ming read every single book on spiritual blacksmithing in the library. Though the contents weren’t as thorough as the ones he’d been privy to in Haijing, they provided a solid foundation for anyone who wanted to climb to higher ranks in the South.

  While Cha Ming was only a fire-and-gold cultivator on the surface, cultivating two types of qi and using them to refine his body, spiritual blacksmithing wasn’t limited to only these elements. In the Blackthorn Conglomerate’s library, he “learned” of elemental wood, which could be used to better forge certain metals. This opened up a whole new world of possibilities to Pai Xiao.

  At first, Pai Xiao was clumsy—and so was Cha Ming, as he’d grown used to using Grandmist flames for alchemical purposes and an orange flame for smithing—but soon enough, he got the gist of it. Using these new flames as inspiration, he solidified Pai Xiao’s base, verifying it through key experiments. By doing so, he left a paper trail of Pai Xiao’s incredible rate of learning.

  After quickly fixing his mortal-grade fundamentals, Cha Ming skipped correcting any mistakes in their basic knowledge and proceeded directly to magic-grade smithing. There, he found countless holes waiting to be filled. To avoid suspicion, however, he was very selective about which knowledge he supplemented. An inspiration here, noticing a flaw there; the challenge of making himself look outstanding but not overtly suspicious was a refreshing activity.

  His amendments to the knowledgebase completed, Cha Ming proceeded to improve some core smithing techniques. Though he was worried about divulging too much knowledge to the South, he needed to demonstrate a drive for profit and innovation. Besides, there wouldn’t be much left of the Wang family after he was done here. The competitive scene in the Southern Alliance meant the knowledge was unlikely to spread very far.

  Cha Ming’s second month was both productive and profitable. Therefore, in his third month, he took a more relaxed approach. He alternated between cultivating in the Clear Sky World and consolidating his demonstrated knowledge with the patchy framework the grandmaster spiritual blacksmiths of the Blackthorn Conglomerate had cobbled together.

  With the rest of his time, Cha Ming created and tested dozens of new
products. Being a researcher, he had full access to the Blackthorn Conglomerate’s catalogue and capabilities. Using his skill as a formation artist, he filled some gaps in their armaments—mostly utility treasures. He hoped it was enough. His target wasn’t to become a normal product developer; it was to join the team developing a specific weapon. Only then would he be able to ruin Zhou Li’s plan. Incidentally, that would leave the Wang family’s reputation in tatters.

  “It’s an interesting-looking device,” Tian Zhi said, unimpressed. He sat at a small desk in Cha Ming’s laboratory, fiddling with the metallic emerald fan inscribed with a wind-element runic pattern. “But it’s not very lethal, is it?”

  “Lethal products aren’t the only useful ones,” Cha Ming said. He pressed a set of runes, and a few dozen mannequins rose from the floor. Each one was a mobile puppet, something the South excelled in crafting. Not only were they useful cannon fodder, but they were also good test subjects. Live specimens were good and all—cheap too—but their physiques were too variable for standardized tests. So in an ironic twist of fate, the Southern Alliance and all its bureaucracy had the most ethical weapons testing procedures on the continent. The mannequins Cha Ming was currently using were equivalent to early-foundation-establishment body cultivators.

  “The formation plate is designed to accommodate any of the five elements, though its preferred element, wind, has a better conversion rate,” Cha Ming explained. He poured a predetermined amount of fire qi into the fan, which caused it to glow. “Through a series of conversion matrices, the qi is converted to wind qi.”

  “Less talking and more doing,” Tian Zhi said, waving his hand.

  “I would prefer to follow established testing procedures” Cha Ming said. “The spirits watch and remember. As you can see, the fan now contains a standard charge. The strength of the charge depends on the strength of the artifact.”

  Cha Ming swung the fan, and twenty of the thirty or so mannequins toppled. “The initial burst is enough to topple ten to twenty early-foundation-establishment experts, stunning them for a half second in the process. The middle-grade artifact will do the same for middle-foundation-establishment cultivators, and so on. Naturally, using a larger fan on weaker opponents can do more than knock them over. I’m sure you can see the tactical advantage.”

  “We’ll see,” Tian Zhi said uncertainly. “How many charges can it handle before collapsing?”

  “Five,” Cha Ming said. “Conversion matrix aside, the strain on the artifact is too great.”

  “Five,” Tian Zhi said, nodding. “That’s more than I expected. I thought it would be two or three.”

  “At first, it was,” Cha Ming said. “But I had an epiphany and deepened some bottlenecked energy lines, reducing the strain on the fan’s material.”

  “Good enough, I suppose,” Tian Zhi said. “I hope that’s not all you brought me here to see.”

  “Of course not,” Cha Ming said, pulling out what looked like a small brown pyramid. “This one is much more useful.” He tossed it to Tian Zhi, who looked at it in puzzlement before finally realizing what it was.

  “It’s a gravity well,” Tian Zhi said. “I’ve seen a few—even made some back in my day. They’re all right, but nearly useless. Our opponents adapt to them very quickly, so the effect on any battle is limited.”

  “True,” Cha Ming said. “If it was a normal gravity well. I wouldn’t waste your time with it.”

  “And what’s special about this one?” Tian Zhi said, manipulating the pyramid in his hands. “I see it’s an initial-core-grade item. Those will usually be able to exert a fifty-foot gravity field that will slow down an initial-core-formation cultivator’s speed by twenty percent, assuming he gets used to it.”

  “Why don’t you try it?” Cha Ming said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He also placed his hands on the durable concrete beneath him.

  “Why not?” Tian Zhi said. He poured a wisp of qi into the artifact, which suddenly blazed with power. Tian Zhi fell face-first on the floor. He pushed himself up slowly, and for three seconds, all he could do was stand firm. The gravity let up after those three seconds and crumbled to dust.

  “What the hell was that?” Tian Zhi said, breathing hard as he picked himself up off the floor. He wiped the dust off the tan apron he always wore atop his black cultivation robes.

  Cha Ming grinned, red faced but otherwise fine, as he’d braced himself. “Well, I figured that since a sustained activation gravity well wasn’t very useful on the battlefield, at least given its cost, I decided to modify it. I call it an extreme gravity well. I’m not sure exactly how strong the field is, but it’s much stronger directly above where the pyramid lands compared to the outer edges. I tested it on myself. Outside the three-foot area near the center, but within fifty feet, it can almost completely immobilize me, a middle-bone-forging and middle-core-formation cultivator during its three-second activation. My techniques might not be outstanding, but that seems much more useful to me than a normal gravity well.”

  “I think it has potential,” Tian Zhi said. “Though it’s regrettable that it’s single use.”

  “It was the only way to bring out peak power,” Cha Ming said. “Besides, is it a bad thing that it’s single use? The user’s opponents can’t recycle the captured treasure if it’s broken.”

  “I suppose,” Tian Zhi said. “I can also see how throwing heavy objects onto incapacitated enemy soldiers would be very effective.”

  “Indeed,” Cha Ming said. “Though, this is only my second-best invention. For this third test, however, I need an unusual test medium. Test puppets or live subjects won’t do.”

  “Oh?” Tian Zhi said. “Is it not an offensive item but a shield? You know full well that shields aren’t very popular in our battle arrangements.”

  In Southern armies, lesser troops formed an expendable vanguard. Well-equipped elite cultivators and blood masters followed. The South pooled defensive items on those few, preferring a war of attrition that sacrificed many lesser lives.

  “It isn’t a defensive item,” Cha Ming said. “It’s offensive, but the nature of its target is unusual. Would we happen to have any geomancers around? I need a solid, wall-like object. Preferably the product of an initial-grandmaster geomancer, at least for this iteration.”

  “Interesting,” Tian Zhi said, twiddling with his short beard. “As a matter a fact, I do. We also have a few prototype walls in this building.”

  “Oh?” Cha Ming said. “That’s surprising. I built this on a whim. With any luck, it’ll be useful.”

  “Come with me,” Tian Zhi said, nodding. He led Cha Ming to the building’s central lift. Cha Ming’s workshop was on the third of eight floors. Tian Zhi led him to the top floor. They passed several empty workshops until they arrived at an unoccupied one. When they entered, however, Cha Ming noticed that it wasn’t that the other workshops were empty, but that they’d been merged into a single room. Three prototype walls had been erected. The first wall was an initial-core-grade structure, while the other two were early core grade and middle core grade respectively.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure how well this will work,” Cha Ming said, embarrassed. “In theory, it should work just fine, but in practice? I’ve only had golems to test with.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Tian Zhi said. “Don’t worry about the result. You can always work on it if it’s ineffective.” His words were relaxed, but Cha Ming could see an expectant gleam in his eyes. He nodded and summoned a spear from his storage ring.

  The spear was an unusual treasure. For one, it was made of pure metal. Its entire length had been crafted of a single material, making it a sharp but rigid core-grade weapon. The runes were also strange for this type of weapon. Unlike the usual strengthening runes, durability runes, and other things commonly seen, the only runes on the spear’s length were energy-gathering and energy-transferring runes. That all changed at the spear’s tip, which was covered in all sorts of runes enhancing the sharpness of the we
apon. Still, no runes enhancing the weapon’s toughness could be seen.

  “An interesting weapon,” Tian Zhi remarked. “It would last maybe three exchanges before shattering if facing an equivalent treasure.”

  “Then it’s a good thing it only needs to last a single strike,” Cha Ming said. He grinned, then poured a predetermined amount of qi into the spear—the entire qi reserve of an initial-core-formation cultivator. The power poured through the spear shaft in less than three seconds, accumulating at the spear’s tip, which glowed with an unstable golden light.

  Cha Ming wasted no time with a lengthy explanation, for seeing was believing. He didn’t worry for Tian Zhi’s safety—the man was a peak-marrow-refining expert, a blacksmith among blacksmiths. If he died from a simple demonstration, he’d have no one to blame but himself. So Cha Ming rushed to the wall with the spear, using no techniques to enhance his strike, only raw power. He jammed the spear into the wall. It penetrated a good three feet before stopping.

  “Mediocre piercing power,” Tian Zhi said in obvious disappointment.

  “I’d hide if I were you,” Cha Ming said, ducking to the side. Tian Zhi, uncertain of what was happening, didn’t heed his advice. He simply waited. Two seconds after the spear had pierced the wall, a sickening crack resounded in the workshop.

  “Argh!” Tian Zhi screamed.

  Cha Ming looked over and noticed that a foot-long piece of golden shrapnel had pierced the man’s thigh. Tian Zhi gritted his teeth and pulled it out. The bones, which had been broken by the strike, instantly mended thanks to the man’s fierce regenerative abilities.