Crown of the Starry Sky: Book 11 of Painting the Mists

by Patrick Laplante

  Tears ran down Cha Ming’s cheeks as he remembered. He was so close to something. He could just reach out for it. He did so, and in that instant, with his heart torn and ragged, he gained enlightenment on a concept. An energy-based fire concept.

  “Well, that was a little underwhelming,” Cha Ming muttered.

  “Warmth?” Sun Wukong asked. He looked exhausted, and the process had likely taken a lot out of him.

  “Warmth,” Cha Ming agreed sadly.

  “I could tell by the way the room heated up a couple of degrees,” Sun Wukong said. “It’s better than nothing, I guess. It could give you something to build on for fire, which you’re still very weak at.”

  “I can tell it’s going to be very the last concept I discover,” Cha Ming said. “That was why I started focusing on wood.” He shook his head. “Let’s not waste time. I had hoped, but my hope was in vain.” Cultivating at his realm wasn’t just about accumulating qi. It was about experiences and enlightenment. He lacked both.

  They left the temple through its small door. Shepherd’s Call jumped when he opened it. “Did you find what you were looking for?” the soul oracle asked.

  “Regrettably, I didn’t,” Cha Ming said. “I’ll let you know when I have more merit points to spend.”

  “Don’t be a stranger,” Shepherd’s Call called out.

  Cha Ming left the library. There was nothing he could learn here in a small amount of time. He had work to do, and he needed to get stronger. There was one more thing he could try. It was a long shot, but since when did he let failure stop him?

  Cha Ming appeared in the Clear Sky World. His feet touched down on the same mountaintop where Sun Wukong usually trained. The flat, rocky surface, which was usually barren, was warmer than normal. There were trees here, freshly planted, but also freshly blooming.

  “You did some redecorating, I see,” Cha Ming said.

  Sun Wukong crouched beneath one of the trees, which he’d moved from another part of the garden. They were each surrounded by a circle of soil. “I thought it couldn’t hurt,” Sun Wukong said. “You gained inspiration on warmth, but that doesn’t mean you won’t eventually come around to blooming flowers. Come, have a smell.”

  Cha Ming did just that. He caught the scent in the wind. A memory of warmth came to life in his mind. “Even though it’s not my own memory, it’s difficult to forget.” The flowers were beautiful. Small white things with hints of yellow.

  “They’re peach trees,” Sun Wukong said, not bothering to look up at him. He was pulling weeds that had started to grow in the soil. “If you behave, I’ll let you have some. But for now, you’ll have to wait. It’ll be sixty years before they bear fruit.”

  “About six years in the outside world, then,” Cha Ming said. He walked past the Monkey King and his trees. He walked past the training grounds. On one side of the mountain was a small shack he’d built a while back. He’d made it with plain tools and his bare hands. It was made of cedar, and it smelled wonderful. The inside of the shack didn’t have much—a bed, which he never used, and a cultivation area, which he usually ignored in favor of meditating on the bare mountain. It also had a small table. He sat down at the table, where many jars of ink were waiting for him to use. This was the Clear Sky World. He could control anything in this space, pulling them in and out as he pleased.

  “First things first—teleportation.” Cha Ming held out his hand and called to mind the image of a talisman. It came as he called its name: Clever Fox’s Doorway to Nowhere. The moment he spoke the words, the ink in the jars began to evaporate. Qi left his body in the shape of a white mist. He also drew on Huxian’s spatial qi, which he had access to through their link. By using it, he could forgo the artifacts other talisman artists used to simulate it.

  The white mist swirled. One moment, there was nothing, and the next, a talisman began to build itself from the bottom up between his fingers over the span of sixty breaths. It was silver-gray, with many dark and blue lines crisscrossing its surface. Thousands upon thousands of runes were infused into its three-layered structure. At its essence, three main themes were incorporated into the talisman. First, the doorway. Second, the nowhere. The third layer was the clever fox, which brought a whole new dimension to the talisman.

  Cha Ming sank in his chair, exhausted, as the last of the talismans appeared. Words of Creation never ceased to amaze him. With his Eyes of Truth, he was able to see an object’s true nature, and with Words of Creation, he could create the item as long as he paid in resources, qi, and soul energy. All in less time than it took to brew a cup of tea.

  He rested. He created. Since he needed one talisman for each member of their team, he didn’t stop till he had a total of ten. He never failed, and due to the Clear Sky World’s time acceleration properties, he crafted them much faster than otherwise possible. He’d used a lesser-grade version of the talisman to escape Lord Dripping Blade before. These ones were more expensive. Instead of teleporting one hundred kilometers, each one could carry the one activating it one thousand. The caveat was that they’d need six seconds to activate it.

  “It’s too bad the materials are so expensive,” Cha Ming muttered.

  “Look who’s talking,” Sun Wukong said. “You don’t waste anything. You’re basically printing money.” It was true. The only disappointing thing was that to craft a talisman this way, he had to understand it. It wasn’t ideal for learning.

  The Monkey King picked up another one of his creations. It was a black medallion engraved with thousands of tiny characters. “You should just make him buy his own.”

  “I told him I’d lend him something,” Cha Ming said. “Besides, I needed one for myself, and it’s not free to use. Unless he has spatial qi like I do from Huxian, he’ll need to spend inkwell jades with each activation.”

  “It’s still much better than he deserves,” Sun Wukong said.

  Cha Ming shrugged. “I needed another member, and it didn’t cost me much extra time.”

  “What next?” Sun Wukong said.

  “A long shot,” Cha Ming said. Crafting everything had costed him twenty-seven days inside the Clear Sky World. That left him with three more days before needing to leave. He summoned a green jade slip. It was cracked in many places and looked like it was about to fall apart. “I haven’t tried in a month, but I might as well try again before we leave.” He poured his transcendent soul into the jade and found himself in another world.

  The world inside the jade was chilly—not the wintry cold that would freeze off your skin, but the slight cold you could feel when a spring wind blew past you. Winter was just ending. He stood beside a pond, and beside the pond was a gathering of strange trees. Their branches were lifeless.

  Or at least, they had been lifeless. In an instant, he didn’t know how, there were blossoms. They hadn’t grown, and they hadn’t fallen like those in his memory. They were just there. Cha Ming had been here so often he knew every detail of this world of runic formulas. He captured each blossom, and as he caught them, runic knowledge poured into his spiritual sea.

  The problem was, he already knew this knowledge. He’d been here dozens of times. Just as he had in many other runic worlds. That thought weighed heavily on Cha Ming as he assembled the pieces of the talisman.

  Cha Ming’s progress had been smooth upon his entry into this world. His Eyes of Truth made it possible for him to see many details, and Words of Creation had made it possible to create anything if he knew its name. Or at least, he’d thought the technique could. What troubled him, however, was that he knew this talisman’s name. Just as he did the twenty others. Despite this fact, he was unable to create it.

  “Ten Thousand Blossoms of Surging Strength,” Cha Ming muttered. It was a simple name. The components were also simple. He built the blueprint of the talisman in his mind with each piece he gathered. He’d done so many times before, so he knew exactly where each piece went. He could build from eight directions at once and finish much faster than he’d originall
y thought possible. It came together quickly.

  There was as glow as the first layer snapped into place. He could use that layer to craft a least-grade talisman. “Surging strength” was the most important part of the name, because without it, there would be no effect. The layer he’d assembled was filled with strengthening runes, energy runes, and various conduits that linked the talisman to the user’s or target’s body.

  Least-grade layer completed, Cha Ming proceeded to the lesser layer. This layer consisted of the component representing blossoms. There were all types of blossoms and many kinds of flowers. Talismans were strange in that sense—blossoms were vague, but that vagueness gave them power. He would need to use various inks made of many different flowers to craft this layer, and the blossoms he used needed to be fresh or magically preserved.

  Before long, this layer also snapped into place. Cha Ming continued assembling blossoms. This layer was tedious and heavy. It was filled with ten thousand components.. While at first it might seem like an arbitrary number, it was more a symbolic one. Ten thousand was many. It represented a very great number not completely bound by the numerical digit ten thousand. As a result, the layer was large and filled with components that linked it to the strengthening layer and the blossom layer. He completed it smoothly, and when he did, the blueprint in his mind snapped together. It became a middle-grade blueprint.

  Now for the hard part, Cha Ming thought. He continued assembling. In theory, the remaining blossoms should be used to form a fourth layer, then a fifth. Yet somehow, he knew there were not enough of them. There was insufficient runic information here to create what was required. There should have been ten times as many runes as the previous layer, but somehow, there were many times less than that. Somehow, he was expected to cope with that.

  Not only were the characters few, they were also strange. They didn’t go together. Some represented something strange like a lady in the woods. Others a vicious wolf. Many had to do with time, with place, and with meaningless things like a kingdom’s name, or the clothing the lady wore.

  Cha Ming tried his best, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t assemble the talisman in his mind. He created pieces to try completing it but to no avail. It floated there, broken, until finally, the runic components could no longer bear the strain. The superfluous information evaporated, leaving only three layers behind. They made up the same middle-grade talisman he already knew.

  “Still nothing?” Sun Wukong asked as Cha Ming left the jade’s training space. Another few cracks appeared on the Guard’s copy of the talisman manual. “I think you can try a couple more times before it degrades too much and breaks.”

  Cha Ming simply sighed. He tossed the jade on the desk and looked out his small cabin’s window at the clear blue sky above them. “I just don’t know what I’m missing.”

  “Keep trying, and it will come to you,” Sun Wukong said. “I have faith.”

  “But I need to get stronger now, Teacher,” Cha Ming said.

  Sun Wukong chuckled. “Everyone needs to get stronger yesterday.” He put his hand on Cha Ming’s shoulder. “I know you feel demoralized. You’ve hit a bottleneck in your understanding of talismans—the first one you’ve ever encountered, I think.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Cha Ming said. “I think I overcame a pretty big hurdle when I crafted a transcendent talisman before transcending.”

  “Maybe,” Sun Wukong grunted. “But this is different. You’ve never been in a position where you couldn’t learn to craft something at your soul cultivation level, have you? I’m talking within a cultivation realm, not jumping realms.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Cha Ming said. He laughed. “It’s just very frustrating, Teacher. When I first came here, I was excited. I could see better than the average man with these eyes, and I could create everything if I knew its name. Now, I’m starting to see the limitations.”

  Sun Wukong shrugged. “I won’t tell you the answer, but let me ask you a question: Do you really know that talisman’s name?”

  “Ten Thousands Blossoms of Burning Strength,” Cha Ming said. He didn’t just say the words but infused his understanding into them. They hung heavily in the air, waiting for direction. He could pour ingredients and qi into them, and they would form a talisman automatically.

  “Seems like a middle-rune-carving name to me,” Sun Wukong said.

  Cha Ming frowned. “There are levels to names?”

  “Depth and meaning as well,” Sun Wukong said. “Did the name not change after you first found it? The first time you saw it, you read it from a list. Then, you learned it when crafting the first version of the talisman. You learned it two more times before you obtained this current version.”

  Cha Ming nodded slowly. “A name has depth. I am Cha Ming, but who I am now isn’t who I was three years ago.”

  “Exactly,” Sun Wukong said. “Now, don’t ask more. That’s all I’m giving you. Think about it and try again another time. You need to realize this on its own, boy, or it’s not nearly as profound. So what if you’re a little weaker? You have friends you can rely on.”

  Friends. Yes, most of his team were friends. He only wished he could do more for them. Captain Xing had told him the mission was dangerous. He didn’t dare underestimate that statement.

  “I need to go,” Cha Ming said. “I need to focus on the mission. Then I can handle my other problems.”

  Thinking of his other problems, he listed them. First, find a concept to advance his cultivation. Second, find a second way to shield himself and his friends from two prefecture lords. Third, figure out what to do about Mi Fei. His instincts told him to try stealing her away, but his mind and his morals said no. His heart ached when he thought of the problem. But that was the least of his problems, so he pushed it out of his mind.

  They needed to survive before anything else.

  Chapter 10: Between Friends

  The moment Cha Ming reentered his apartment from the Clear Sky World, a series of pings assaulted his mind. All his devices, having been separated in the other dimension, displayed all the messages they’d received simultaneously. He first checked his communications from Killjoy. They included updates on the caravan attacks, as well as copies of the signed contracts for their group of ten.

  Based on current attack patterns, we would be wise to head out within two days’ time for the next wave, the latest message said.

  Let’s plan on that, Cha Ming replied. I’m ready. Did you secure healing supplies like I asked?

  A reply appeared a few seconds later. Healing supplies are secured.

  Good, Cha Ming said. I made the teleportation talismans to bypass queues. And since we never bought them from anyone, that means there are no receipts that anyone need know of right away. Aside from that, I made three obscurity emblems. One is for Crying Toad, and another one is for myself. The third will be a spare.

  I don’t anticipate anyone else needing one, Killjoy replied. Even your demon companions’ friends have enough sense to be ready for stealth. And they only joined the Guard a month ago.

  They got bored, Cha Ming sent. Lucky for us. As for the last emblem, it wasn’t bad to have an extra one. Emblems could be used by anyone as long as they had sufficiently dense soul force. Though only mid-grade, the metal plaques he’d made were carved with many characters and painted with ink that could be cured solid. Emblems didn’t possess their own energy like talismans; they needed to be fed external energy, usually in the form of inkwell jades or a cultivator’s qi. Since Crying Toad was the one borrowing, he’d have to eat the cost. How much do you think is fair for me to charge the Guard for the teleportation talismans?

  Seventy percent of market rates, Killjoy replied. I’ve done it before at a loss. It’s a bit worse than you could get with a merchant contract, since they don’t want people using the Guard to launder money.

  Secrecy is worth it, Cha Ming sent back. My talismans have saved me from Dripping Blade before. He then continued lo
oking over his messages. Have you talked to Eternal Song lately?

  Why? Killjoy answered. I didn’t bother asking him to join the mission. He’s busy with family things. Though I did send him a confidential information request.

  It seems he wants to meet with me and mentioned it’s very important, Cha Ming said. Aside from that, he didn’t say. Do you think he’s aware of our mission?

  Well, he is in a relationship with one of our group members, however tenuous it might be. She might have signed a confidentiality agreement, but that might not stop her from mentioning it to mutual acquaintances offhand. Combine that with our information request and your recent promotion to Crimson Division, it’s not a stretch that he’s guessed a few things.

  Then I might as well talk to him, Cha Ming said. It’s just strange he didn’t mention anything official.

  Some families prefer to keep things off the record.

  Do you have anything else? Cha Ming asked.

  The demons mentioned something about a space-time quest, Killjoy added. I have no idea what that is.

  Damn, Cha Ming replied.

  What?

  Bad, Cha Ming said. Or so Huxian would have me believe. I’ll have to press him for details later.

  He said as much, but I wasn’t sure what to make of it, Killjoy said. You know. Demons. Drama.

  I get it, Cha Ming said. Before I leave, let me ask you a question. Two days from now. Is there a reason?

  The Xia Clan and others that dabble in transportation are currently holding an emergency session on transportation security, she answered. They will resume services tomorrow, and I don’t expect whoever is attacking to strike on the same day.

  Thanks for arranging that, Cha Ming sent.