Shattered Lands: Book 8 of Painting the Mists

by Laplante, Patrick

  “I’d also like to add that he’s a valuable member of my core research group,” Tian Zhi said dryly. “Not having him would have a profound impact on a very important project. Which, might I add, the royal family has commissioned.”

  This seemed to trouble Prince Shen, who tapped his fingers as he thought.

  “Three months,” Prince Shen said. “And that’s final.”

  Xue Xiao looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, but he could only voice his agreement. “Fine. The prince is wise and fair.”

  “Please go on ahead,” Prince Shen said. “We’ll talk later.” The three blood masters, Xue Xiao included, stood stiffly and walked out of the meeting room, leaving only Director Yong, Tian Zhi, and the prince with Cha Ming. “I’m sorry. I had to give them something for now. You know how obstinate they can be.”

  “It really wasn’t his fault,” Tian Zhi said. “I was there. I saw him tell them we should do a pilot run.”

  “I know,” Prince Shen said. “But war is coming, and we must be united. Morale is important. I understand that this will lead to a slight delay on the project, but it’s a price that must be paid. As a middle-marrow-refining cultivator, Pai Xiao won’t die like many others do. It will be a boring three months, but what smith doesn’t know monotony?”

  “I understand,” Cha Ming said. “I shouldn’t have introduced the product. It was imperfect. Flawed.”

  “Pride in your work is an admirable trait, but responsibility for results even more so,” Prince Shen said. “We must all be united if we are to retake the North from those who stole it from us.”

  “But Prince Shen,” Tian Zhi said, “you might not be aware of this, but around a third of the progress we’ve made over the past three months on the Breaker project was due to Pai Xiao’s contributions, either directly or through insights. Those three months will cost us dearly.”

  The prince’s expression turned grim. “Any delays will not be accepted by the grand vizier.” He looked to Cha Ming. “One month. After one month, I’ll escalate this to Father and explain the situation. We’ll release you prematurely. By then, the blood masters will have calmed down.”

  “I’ll do as instructed,” Cha Ming said.

  “Good,” Prince Shen said. “Grandmaster Pai Xiao, you are dismissed for now. I have further things to discuss with Tian Zhi and Director Yong. Please report to Bastion Wall as soon as possible. You may bring whatever possessions you like, but only one spatial treasure.”

  Cha Ming bowed and left. He walked down the hallway, down the stairs, and passed a group of gloomy blood masters with his head bowed. He didn’t go back to his quarters, for he always carried his important possessions with him. Instead, he went directly to the large wall behind the palace.

  Beyond the wall lay the dreaded Shattered Lands, the place where most of the ore in Bastion was harvested. He’d originally wondered how he’d find the time to come here, and in the end, he’d just had to kill a fifth of the Bastion blood monastery. The Shattered Lands were the densest source of gold element energy on the Ling Nan Plane. If Gold Source Marrow existed on this plane, that was where he would find it.

  Chapter 20: Impossible

  In the Icy Heart Pavilion, thirty or so young women trained in the snow. Hong Xin and Bai Ling watched them from an alcove above the courtyard where they trained, with nothing but cold to keep them company. An icy stream flowed through their training area. Many of the women sat in its frigid waters, cultivating despite the ice that formed around their wet robes. Some of their skins were white, while others were blue. As they risked death with their brutal training regimen, experienced figures watched them secretly from the shadows, ready to dive in if any reached their limits.

  “So very different,” Hong Xin murmured. “So very painful. I could hardly imagine cultivating in freezing water as a qi-condensation cultivator.”

  Bai Ling nodded in agreement. When they’d started their training, they were foundation-establishment experts. Even at that level, they wouldn’t have dared do such a thing.

  A blue-robed woman walked up beside them. It was Ling Fei, vice head of the Icy Heart Pavilion. She looked down at those in the courtyard indifferently. “This is only the most basic training area. The qi harvested from training in this environment gains a frigid quality, we’ve discovered, which complements the Icy Heart Sutra. There are also side benefits.”

  “Such as?” Hong Xin asked.

  “The process is painful,” Ling Fei answered. “And numbing. By shutting out the pain, denying its existence, or at least ignoring it, it is easier to learn the essence of a frozen heart. Our goal is for new trainees to reach the first level of the Icy Heart Sutra within one year. Most make it, if sufficiently talented.”

  “That’s just as fast as in the Red Dust Pavilion,” Hong Xin said.

  “It’s faster, actually,” said Headmistress Lan, who was also with them. “Just like you’ve modified the old training program, we’ve had to as well. You chose to promote a lax learning atmosphere, and only those driven can succeed. Those who aren’t are encouraged to leave.

  “It’s the same here too. We’ve chosen a painful method of teaching, and those who do not wish to continue don’t have to. They can quit at any time. To succeed, one has to numb the pain and dull the heart. And unlike the Red Dust Pavilion, we don’t only want undesirables and naïve women with false hopes, women we entrap into servitude. Here, we just want the best. There are no servants here, just well-treated pavilion members.”

  This second visit to the Icy Heart Pavilion, just a half day after they’d visited their own headquarters, was an eye-opening experience. They’d expected prisoners and torture. Instead, they saw painful dedication. “What of the members who insist on continuing?” Bai Ling asked.

  “Our generosity is limited,” Headmistress Lan said. “Those who come from rich families can pay to stay as a visiting member, but only insofar as we have the capacity to accept them. That capacity is dwindling as we speak. Our priority is nurturing productive members.

  “That being said, anyone who achieves the first level of the Icy Heart Sutra before foundation establishment becomes an outer member. Anyone who reaches the third level of the Icy Heart Sutra before middle foundation establishment becomes an inner member. Finally, anyone who achieves the fifth level of the Icy Heart Sutra is promoted to a core member. Our core members are supplied with the best resources to form a frozen core and quickly improve their strength, so they can become top-earning members.

  “By the end of five years, the training ends. Whatever anyone accomplishes after that is up to their own hard work. They can fund their cultivation with their wages and bonuses; there is work for anyone who has achieved any level of the Icy Heart Sutra, though those who’ve reached the first level only qualify as attendants. Only the untalented are content to stay in such a role. The others simply aren’t suited to our cultivation method. They leave, discard their cultivation, and start on a different path.”

  “I see,” Hong Xin said, shivering slightly from the cold wind that blew out from the courtyard below. It was much colder down there than even the coldest winter on the continent, yet no one wore anything more than a thin cultivation robe. “Why don’t we move on?”

  Headmistress Lan nodded. Ling Fei led the way down a corridor that led to the east side of the complex. There, they saw several students attending a lecture. They were outer members, and just like those in the courtyard outside, none of them smiled. It was a lesson in emotional dousing, the goal being to calm oneself or others. Off to the side, a senior student played a soothing song to assist the students as they learned.

  The system their opposing pavilion had devised was much like their own. At this stage, after kindling their own inner motivation and reaching the first level of the Burning Heart Sutra, they learned to affect others with contagious inspiration. They would first be introduced to different techniques, after which they’d be broken into pairs that would try to influence each other. As though se
nsing her thoughts, the class did just that. They broke up into pairs and touched hands to transfer dousing energy to each other. At that stage, physical contact was best.

  They continued the tour, passing a few classrooms until they found one where inner members were learning. These students used instruments and performing arts in their duels. The elite students in the bunch would often be pitted against several lesser students. It was just like the Red Dust Pavilion. The parallels shouldn’t have surprised Hong Xin, since their origins were the same, but it did anyway. Ice and fire were opposites. Her own core, a combined core of dousing and kindling power, was still an amalgamation of forces that were kept separate, lest they fight against each other. It was a miracle she’d succeeded, and anyone who’d succeeded after her had done so because of her direct intervention.

  “It seems we’re not so different after all,” Hong Xin said as they walked into a small room near the main audience chamber. Two attendants poured them tea. Cold tea, but it was still better than no tea. For a moment, she was tempted to warm it with a wisp of fire qi but thought better of it. The Icy Heart Pavilion hadn’t chilled their tea when they’d visited, so she would show them the same respect.

  “The same seeds sprout different trees, but they’ll always share the same origins,” Headmistress Lan said, taking a sip of her chilled beverage. Tiny ice crystals floated atop it, refusing to either melt or expand.

  “Trees that share the same origins often grow in the same locations,” Hong Xin said. “Not only is there safety from the wind in numbers, but both male and female trees are needed to expand a forest.”

  Headmistress Lan raised an eyebrow. “You’re proposing that we mate?”

  Bai Ling spat out some of her tea. She tapped her chest as she coughed, expelling some of the liquid that had gone down the wrong way.

  “I propose that we work together,” Hong Xin said, ignoring Bai Ling. “Merge. Since our training methods are so similar, and our roots are the same, it makes perfect sense to share a household.”

  “Ah,” Headmistress Lan said. She looked to her two attendants, who left in a hurry. Only the four of them remained. “I suppose I should have expected you to say such a thing. The heiress of the household always seeks to take prosperous branch families back into the fold. Forgive me, but I’ll have to decline.”

  “Why so quick to decide?” Hong Xin asked. “There are advantages to sharing a united front. We even have members who dual cultivate kindling and dousing. Your members could gain the same opportunities.”

  Headmistress Lan shook her head. “Our philosophies are completely different. We are cold and uncaring, and proudly so. Emotions are nothing but a distraction in this cold and ruthless world. To survive, to thrive, we must numb ourselves.

  “On the other hand, the Red Dust Pavilion believes that passion is required to grow. Without it, no one can achieve anything. Those who repress their emotions are doomed to mediocrity and failure. Am I right?”

  Hong Xin frowned. “With all due respect, I’m living proof that these two don’t contradict each other,” she said, summoning a ball of ice and a ball of flame in each hand.”

  “A wonderful point,” Ling Fei said. “And it only makes sense that a talented cultivator in both our arts could lead us. Only someone like Headmistress Hong could lead us to greatness.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Headmistress Lan said. “We would be blessed for such an opportunity. Let’s fetch the paperwork right now and get ready to move in.” Their sarcasm wasn’t lost on Hong Xin.

  “I said nothing about leadership,” Hong Xin said.

  “It is implied,” Headmistress Lan said sharply. “Which is all the more reason why this is impossible. If we join the Red Dust Pavilion under your leadership, our members will be relegated to the lower ranks.” Her eyes widened, and she put her hand to her mouth. “Unless, are you willing to accept our leadership? I promise we wouldn’t do anything like that. Really.”

  “You’re taking our proposal a little lightly,” Bai Ling interjected. “I didn’t think jesting was what the Icy Heart Pavilion did.”

  “Sarcasm is completely consistent with our arts,” Headmistress Lan said. “And your lack of understanding on the subject is one more reason why this is bad idea.”

  “Perhaps we should have this discussion another time,” Hong Xin said. “We should continue to get to know one another.”

  Headmistress Lan shook her head. A rare smile touched her lips. “Any such meetings would be tainted by your intent. They wouldn’t be about mutual understanding, but conversion.” Before Hong Xin could object, Headmistress Lan continued. “Leadership is only the first of many problems. I’m fully aware of what’s in your possession. With the Icy Heart Oath Stone, who would dare move into the same house? You possess our ultimate weakness. We would be mice in a cat’s playhouse, free until the cat decides it’s hungry. Even if you say that’s not your intent, how can a woman like me believe you? Don’t you have a few dozen enslaved members in the Red Dust Pavilion?”

  “We were forced to do it,” Hong Xin said with clenched teeth. “They broke us in that school. They trapped us and killed many of our friends. They deserve every bit of their punishment.” Noticing her emotions boiling over, Hong Xin doused her feelings and returned to a calmer state of mind. Headmistress Lan waited for her to finish cooling down before serving her another cup of tea.

  “Perhaps,” Headmistress Lan said. “I, too, despise them. But what of the other few dozen members in the city? Did they all deserve such a fate? Are you not keeping them for the sake of safety, ignoring their freedom in the process?”

  “They are a liability,” Bai Ling said. “The result of a necessary action, but one that will likely seek revenge if given freedom.”

  “And that Oath Stone is a liability,” Ling Fei shot back. “We are a business, yes, but we look out for our members. Here, women get to determine their own destiny. We are not like the old Red Dust Pavilion. We are legitimate, and we are free.”

  “If we release them,” Hong Xin said. “Who is to say they won’t return to their old ways?”

  “Who’s to say anyone won’t?” Headmistress Lan said. “Is that a reason to keep them under oath? Many of us have dark pasts, but we’ve turned over a new leaf. We are legitimate businesswomen: advisors, entertainers, and diplomats for hire. Even warriors and bodyguards. We give women futures. Will you take that away?”

  Hong Xin pursed her lips. She waited a while before speaking again. “We’ll think on what you said. Perhaps we are being unreasonable with those members. We’ll have to look into it on a case-by-case basis.”

  “And if you’re willing to do that, we’re willing to continue these talks,” Headmistress Lan said. “But know this: as long as the Oath Stone is still in play, cooperation simply isn’t possible.”

  “Noted,” Hong Xin said. They finished their tea in silence.

  The shadow frowned when it saw Hong Xin’s disappointed expression. It had heard their conversation, and it wasn’t happy about it. While it knew there were valid points on both sides, it couldn’t help but be biased in the red lady’s favor. She was so passionate, so caring. She just wanted what was best for everyone, while also keeping innocent people out of trouble. Was there anything wrong with that?

  The lady in blue, on the other hand, was cold and calculating. Not unlike someone else he knew, who’d sided with much darker powers. Like him, the lady wouldn’t see good sense if it stared her in the eye. She would always put herself before the greater good.

  The question is, the shadow asked itself, will the lady in red know what to do? Will she do what needs to be done? The more it observed her, the more it thought otherwise. She was softening to blue lady’s arguments with each conversation. It was only a matter of time before she was eaten up by them.

  Should I do something? it wondered. It hesitated. Shadows didn’t do anything. They just watched and existed. Or did they? The thought intrigued it. It considered a while longer, then moved.
The night was young, and much work needed doing.

  Chapter 21: Land of Shadows Remembered

  Huxian panted as he looked westward, trying his best to expel excess heat from his body. The sun still shone brightly—at least the half that still peeked up over the horizon. It wasn’t very strong, but it was relentless. And no matter where he hid, no matter what he tried, he couldn’t avoid it. The light was living. The light was ever present. And the heat that built up inside his body seemed to want to stay there. A constant experience without relief, like the ghosts in that wretched city.

  His shadow, much taller than he remembered it being, shifted impatiently, as if to urge him to hurry. He gazed at the now rocky ground. It wasn’t cracked like the abandoned plains from before, the lands that would have been lush with daily rains. No, this was true rock, not fragile clay. It led to a tiny mountain he’d spotted days ago. Or was it hours? Weeks? He couldn’t remember. Time here was an endless blur.

  Sighing, Huxian continued toward the mountain, stepping with one paw after another, forcing himself forward with everything he had. It was the longest, most arduous journey he’d ever been on. But what choice did he have? He didn’t know the way out. He only had a single hint in the form of an eternal curse on a ghostly city. He’d obtained a piece of a jade tablet and directions to go westward. He’d been journeying ever since.

  This leg of the journey was different than the last. To Huxian’s surprise, as he neared the mountain, which was growing ever larger in the distance, his shadow grew. And as it did, he picked up speed. There were no foothills like was used to seeing, nor were there any stray rocks that often accompanied mountains. Only flatness. It led to a plateau, which surprisingly cast a shadow toward him. The wrong way.

  Huxian stopped just outside that shadow, his own barely brushing against it. It felt wrong, unholy even. Two shadows should not face opposite directions; at least, not without demonic or other intervention. Something was here, tampering with the laws of light.