After traveling for a half hour more, Huxian finally noticed something that wasn’t a massive sun or a dusty plain. A figure in white appeared along the horizon. Having not seen a living thing in months, he ran toward what ended up being a diminutive man in white robes. The man had black hair tied up in a topknot. He was clearly a scholar, but he was young and had an air of naïve curiosity. Most importantly, he was neither ghost nor buddha. He was a human.
Hello! Huxian called out to the man. To his relief, the man looked back in surprise. He smiled and waved at the fox. Unlike his fur, the man’s robes were pristine, untouched by the dust beneath them. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, and his cultivation realm was at the peak of qi condensation. Huxian wondered how the man could possibly be standing here unharmed where the sun was so hot, but he remembered that many things here didn’t make sense. Everything was twisted and mystical, like a deep lesson prepared by a senior for a junior.
“Greetings, fellow traveler,” the man said, waving. “I am Yang Mu, a scholar of minor repute. What might I call you, esteemed monarch of the demon realms?”
I am Huxian, Monarch of Light and Darkness, Huxian said, quite pleased at the man’s respectful tone. He was, after all, an important demon on the plane he came from. What are you doing here, so close to the sun? It’s dangerous in these parts, especially for one so weak. The heat will burn you burn your body and destroy your soul.
“Dangerous?” the man asked, perplexed. “Not at all. I’ve just begun my journey, so how could I possibly be feeling the heat?” Indeed, his robes were still pristine despite all the dust around him. His skin was pale and unblemished. He looked less an adult and more a child, unaccustomed to the hard ways of the world.
And what do you hope to find on this journey? Huxian asked.
“The origin of the sun,” the man said proudly. “My master once told me that to grow as a scholar, one must journey thousands of miles and see many things. He cautioned me, however, against focusing on the many. Instead, he said to focus on the one, the origin of all things.” He held his hand up to the sun. “To me, his meaning is obvious: I should chase the sun, the origin of everything. If I find the origin, will I not be able to see the many from the one, the multitude from the origin? Will I not see the Dao?”
Huh, Huxian said. I suppose I never thought about it that way. Inwardly, he was groaning. The kid would learn a swift lesson in humility. If cultivation was such a simple journey, would there not be heavenly emperors aplenty? As far as Huxian knew, his journey wasn’t just foolish; it was dangerous. Immortals, gods, and demons alike pursued the peripheries as they deepened their understanding. The truth of the origin was so powerful, so all-encompassing, that it could shatter the mind and burn the soul. Even the Jade Emperor was only just beginning to comprehend its immensity.
You might want to be careful on your journey, Huxian said. To my knowledge, this path is dangerous and forbidden. Countless have died walking it, and none have ever succeeded.
The scholar smiled and bowed. “Many thanks for your advice, Huxian, Monarch of Light and Darkness. My heart is set on the matter, however. There is no deterring me.”
He turned toward the sun and began walking. Dust immediately began to stain his immaculate robes, and the heat suddenly came bearing down on the man. He cried out in agony after only a few steps, then crashed down on his knees.
Huxian shook his head. The man’s fate was even more pitiful than he’d predicted. He very much wanted to help the man and treat his wounds, but he wasn’t the Monarch of Healing and Mercy. Scholar Yang would need to find his own way. It would likely take years for him to recover from the trauma, assuming he survived. And judging by the damage to the man’s meridians, he would never be able to cultivate again. He would live a scarred and painful existence, unless he chose the obvious way out and ended it.
Seeing nothing more to do, Huxian continued walking. He walked for a few hours, and in that time, the sun doubled in size. The horizon now seemed like a precipice, an obstacle he could pass before seeing the sun in all its fullness instead of the tease the red half sun had been all this time.
Soon enough, Huxian saw what appeared to be a small black spike in the distance. No, not a spike. It was moving. He ran over toward the object and quickly realized that it wasn’t an object but a person. A man. The miniature man grew larger and larger until Huxian could finally make out a set of tattered gray robes that barely hung to his body.
Despite his damaged robes, the man seemed hale and hearty. His skin was a lustrous bronze, and his hair was well kept. It was tied in a familiar scholarly style.
It’s him! Huxian realized. He trotted over to the man, who looked over and smiled.
“Huxian, Monarch of Light and Darkness,” the man said, bowing deeply. “It is good to see you again. You have my thanks for watching over me all those years ago.”
All those years ago? Huxian wondered. It had been nothing more than a few hours. Still, the more he looked at the man, the more he realized that it wasn’t just his skin that had changed. The man seemed closer to forty years in age, and his cultivation realm had increased. The meridians that had burned away and the qi pools that had been destroyed had somehow regrown. What’s more, they had undergone a revolutionary transformation: The man’s qi weaved throughout his body like lines of light. He’d also reached the peak of foundation establishment. His foundation burned hot like the blazing sun up ahead. The burning qi coursed through his body, tempering it with each circulation. He’d somehow reached the peak of bone forging as well.
Scholar Yang, it seems I was mistaken, Huxian said. Your path has taken you far. You’ve recovered from your initial trauma, and your cultivation has improved by leaps and bounds. It is good that you ignored my warning.
The man smiled wistfully but shook his head. “No, I should have heeded your words. That day, I nearly died. I would have died had it not been for divine intervention.”
Divine intervention? Huxian asked. A god came down to bless and heal you? Such cases weren’t exactly common, but they weren’t unheard of either.
“Less a god and more a demon,” Scholar Yang said. “He told me the path I walked was forbidden, and that I should give up on it.”
Which you clearly did not, Huxian pointed out.
“That is correct, I did not,” Scholar Yang said. “Therefore, the mighty demon both blessed and cursed me. ‘I will grant you the power and the truth you seek,’ he said, ‘but the journey will be endless and ephemeral. It will be a journey walked for others, and the end will be your demise.’ The moment he spoke these words, the power of the sun coursed through my veins. I knew that I could easily take his blessing and leave, but my folly continued.” He shook his head. “Though I’m not obligated to keep going, my curiosity will not let me stop.”
“Do you wish to have some company?” Huxian asked, curious to see what happened to the man as he walked.
The man shook his head. “My progress is slow, and I dare not hold you back. Perhaps it would be best if you visited again when I’ve made sufficient progress.”
“Very well,” Huxian said. “If we’re fated, we’ll certainly meet again.”
The man bowed, and Huxian continued.
The sun grew larger as Huxian ran. Every hour, it doubled in size, straining the limits of his perception. Its scorching powers doubled alongside it, and to Huxian’s surprise, it both burned and protected him. The sun was not there to punish, but to teach. It burned a lesson into his flesh as it seared his soul.
Ten times, a hundred times. The more it grew, the more Huxian could make out infinitesimal details in the sun’s brightness. Before, it all seemed a uniformly bright spot on the horizon, but now he could see roiling flames and seething, swirling pools of bright plasma. Darker spots appeared on the sun that should have been too blinding to perceive. It resembled less the single light in the sky at day and more the moon in a dimly lit sky, with sunken craters and rigid scars marring its imperfe
ct surface.
And in front of that sun, in front of all this detail, sat a lonely figure. His clothes had finally burned away, as had his bronzed skin. His hair, which had been neatly tied all this time, was ash white. It crumbled to dust, joining the contaminants piled on the ground, still six feet high. They swirled around him, enveloping him, offering to become one with him.
Huxian walked up beside the man. They were now only six feet away from a cliff that finally gave way, revealing the full splendor of the sun. Nigh-invisible chains were wrapped around it, preventing it from moving an inch.
“So, was it worth it?” Huxian asked Scholar Yang, whose face was contorted in pain. His face was crumbling, just like his hair had been, and not a single inch of his skin was unmarred. His eyebrows were gone, as were the small hairs on his arms. Yet to Huxian’s surprise, he continued to stare straight ahead. It was as though the burning was a painful yet pleasant agony, like the touch of a lover teasing him ever so slightly, preventing him from ever fully concentrating, frustrating him with every moment.
“I was too close…” the man croaked, his voice barely a whisper. He sputtered dust as he did, making Huxian wonder whether he should continue the conversation or put the man out of his misery.
“Too close to the sun?” Huxian asked.
The man nodded, and more skin crumbled off at his neck. “But you chased the sun all this time. You became stronger for it, discovering more of its beauty. Didn’t the sun benefit you?”
The man chuckled painfully. Given his condition, it sounded like nothing more than a death rattle. “Yes, I discovered the sun’s beauty. And I found strength in it. But as I unearthed this strength, I discovered a glimpse of the sun’s true nature, and the reason my journey had to end bitterly.”
“Which was?” Huxian asked.
Instead of answering, the man blinked a few times, gathering his thoughts. He licked his dusty lips, sputtering out ashes that formed on his tongue in the process. “The sun rises, and the sun sets,” the man said finally. “That is the true nature of the sun. One cannot constantly bask in its presence. There is a rise, and there is a fall. There is a summoning, and there is a banishing. Can you not see it, out there in the piercing light?”
Huxian looked out into the sun, and on cue, a slightly brighter spot appeared directly at the center. It grew brighter and brighter but did not grow in size. Then, to Huxian’s surprise, it left the sun. It darted toward him like a bolt of lightning, and he barely had time to see the piece of broken jade before it smashed into his forehead, rushing straight into his eyes like before. This time, however, he felt searing pain.
His inner iris, filled with Devil-Sealing Intent, was still of a vivid jade coloring. His outer iris, a deep purple ring filled with Demon-Subduing Intent, was slowly but steadily pushed toward the center as the soft golden ring from before finally solidified. It snapped into place, and the moment it did, he knew its name.
The Spirit-Banishing Scripture, Huxian thought. The sun that rises must fall; the spirit born must leave; offenders to the natural order are banished with unfettered ease.
With the mnemonic came the knowledge of several new abilities. The first one was the power to see all spirits. It wasn’t an all-powerful ability, but it could pierce many cultivation realms, making it so nothing on the mortal plane he normally resided on could evade his detection. The second ability was much like the one shared by his two previous eye techniques: Spirit-Banishing Intent. The more spirits banished or destroyed, the greater the intent. It could, in turn, be used to banish spirits.
The third ability, however, took the cake. Spirits weren’t just a problem because of their nigh invisibility but because of their transparency. Only strong yang energies could effectively damage them. The Spirit-Banishing Scripture not only gave the user the ability to see spirits but the ability to interact with them. Their physical and other attacks would be imbued with Spirit-Banishing Intent, which would, in turn, allowed them to touch, hold, and otherwise damage the ethereal beings with ease.
“My mission is complete,” Scholar Yang said from beside him. His body began to crumble more rapidly, and chunks of flesh and bones were now falling off in puffs of dust. Even his bones were chipping away. “The sun that rises must fall.”
After these last words, the rest of his body gave out as his soul left him. It was forcefully banished by the powerful sun into the Yellow River. As his soul left, Huxian finally saw tiny karmic tethers that had bound him to the sun. It was these tethers that had allowed Huxian to see the man’s journey.
The way forward is clear, Huxian thought out loud. The sun that rises must fall. To do that, it needs to be unchained. He could now see the writhing mass of karmic threads holding the ball of light in place. They led back both to the city and to the Buddhist temple from before. Energized, he rushed off, away from the sun, its scorching heat increasing his speed. Time blurred around him as he made his way toward the Buddhist temple. After all, the city was his starting point. For any decently poetic ending, its souls would need to be freed last.
His only worry now was the pain. Since gaining the third eye technique, he felt an unreasonable amount of strain in his eyes. The mere thought of even activating the technique to see and banish spirits sent shivers down his spine. Though he could probably handle the inevitable backlash from the technique, Cha Ming most certainly could not. He was, after all, only human.
More to the point, Huxian was a decently selfish demon. He could choose not to use these eyes and could lock them away for all eternity. Cha Ming, on the other hand, would never do such a thing. These eyes were a tool with a purpose. Given enough reason, he would use them.
Chapter 31: Justification
Cha Ming let out a bloodcurdling scream as he collapsed to one knee, his project forgotten. He Yin, who’d been working beside him, used his lightning fast reflexes to catch falling reagents with his soul force, preventing the laboratory from erupting in a symphony of destructive energies. This all went unnoticed to Cha Ming, however, as he clutched his forehead. Multiple streaks of blood ran out of each of his eyes from beneath his hands.
Relax, Cha Ming thought to himself. Accept the pain. Be one with the pain. As a body cultivator, he’d experienced the destruction and regrowth of his body many times over. He’d had hands blown apart by shards of metal, and the entire surface of his body burned three layers deep. He’d even broken every single bone in his body. But that was nothing compared to the agony was feeling now.
He took deep, ragged breaths as he determined the root of the problem. Spirit-Banishing Scripture? Spirit-Banishing Intent? The ability to see and touch spirits? What in the seven hells had Huxian done? Their link and their ability to communicate had grown thin of late, to the point that they couldn’t converse. Only limited access to demonic qi was still available to him, which likely meant the same applied to Huxian.
This isn’t a bad thing, Cha Ming thought, using rationality to numb the pain. This is what I needed. If I can see and interact with spirits, I’ll be able to deal with the Spirit Temple. It makes incriminating the Wang family much easier.
The pain in his eyes finally reduced to a soft, dull pain. He summoned a mirror from a cupboard in their lab and looked into his eyes. Bloody mess aside, there were now three rings in his eyes. One wide jade ring surrounded his pupil. It was in turn surrounded by a violet ring, and finally, a golden ring. Compared to the other times he’d activated the technique, the rings were dull and inactive. Yet when he moved to retract them, or even hide them with his Seventy-Two Transformations Technique, they didn’t budge.
What does it mean? Cha Ming thought. He could feel that no Devil-Sealing or Demon-Subduing Intent was leaking out, which meant the technique wasn’t technically active. However, as he stared at his hand, he could see a faint jade glow, a mere shadow of what he could usually see with the technique turned on. Looking up at He Yin, he saw that the alchemist had a much thinner glow surrounding his skin, a hint of merit compared to the
ocean he himself had harvested.
“Pai Xiao?” He Yin asked again. “Are you all right?” The middle-aged man scratched his short black hair. His laboratory coat, usually immaculate, had gotten stained in whatever Cha Ming had splashed when he’d collapsed. Blood and a mysterious yellow gore, perhaps?
“It seems I’ve unknowingly broken through in an eye technique I practice,” Cha Ming said, standing up. Though he’d wanted to hide his eye techniques, there was no way he could do it now, especially given how much time he had to work with. He summoned flames to burn away the blood on his face and used the power inherent in his laboratory garments to clean them.
“That must be a killer technique if it makes you react like that,” He Yin grumbled, wiping the sweat off his brow. Due to the dangerous nature of the alchemical ingredients they’d been working with, half the building could have disappeared if things had gone even a little more wrong. “Is it useful in crafting?”
Seeing an opening for a few more scientific breakthroughs, Cha Ming grinned. “As a matter of fact, it is. It’s especially good in detecting energy pathways and runic lines.” It was a blatant lie, but it would enable him to reveal a few more of his abilities. If he could blame it on his eye technique, a sudden increase in his already impressive runic knowledge would be acceptable.
“Great,” He Yin said. “That’s great. With our moved-up deadline, I didn’t know what we’d do.” Two months had passed since his return, and the half-year deadline they’d been given had been shrunk even further down to four months. Only two months remained.
“I think I have some ideas,” Cha Ming said. “Let’s try them.” He moved up to the bench where the remnants of their experiment lay.
Shattered Lands: Book 8 of Painting the Mists Page 36
