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

by Patrick Laplante

  Yes, Sun Wukong finally said in answer to his question. Or at least, there used to be. There were once humans who cultivated the demonic path. They were cousins of monkeykind. They thrived before heaven and hell split, and savagery was the law of the land.

  What happened to them? Cha Ming asked.

  What happens to everyone who doesn’t get with the times? Sun Wukong asked. He sighed. A few remnants remain. They’re savage and not fit for civilized society.

  You sound regretful, Cha Ming said.

  How can I not be? Sun Wukong replied. Both humans and monkeys moved past that stage in their evolution. Or a good part of them did, at least. The bestial demons you see are remnants of the past just like they are. They’re trapped in time, like attractions in a zoo. They wouldn’t even think to move forward.

  Cha Ming thought on this as he continued to walk beside the water. Then what do you prefer? Human cities in their modernity, or demon cities and their chaotic excitement?

  I prefer trees, Sun Wukong said. Places where green things grow. I like stones, especially large ones, the ones my clan made their homes in. As for these hanging gardens? They’re nice. They remind me of the mountains where I was born.

  Cha Ming nodded. I like lakes. He always had. The plains remind me of home, but streams and mountains fill me with wonder. Whether trees or grass or moss, I like green things all around me. But the most important thing is still water.

  He wasn’t a fish. He couldn’t live in the water. But water gave life. Water flowed. It didn’t stay in one place. It wandered, just as he did. And whenever he was confused and overwhelmed, he liked to come back to it. It wasn’t confusing or polluted like cities were.

  He walked far, but he walked slowly. The lake was not large by transcendent standards. It was a circular lake ten kilometers in diameter. Despite its rich demonic energy, it was clearly artificial. Perhaps a prefecture lord had excavated it in the past, or maybe an ancient demon had dug it out. Either way, it flowed. It changed.

  Families brought their children here. Couples of all kinds went for romantic strolls. Some individuals came to think, and others to relax. Water was origin. Water was life. It was the primary ingredient in any body, and no one could escape the connection.

  The lake, Cha Ming said. Is it deep? He’d probed it with his own senses but found them lacking. He couldn’t see to the bottom of it.

  A quarter as deep as it is wide, Sun Wukong replied. It’s a jungle down there, though not one to my liking. I wouldn’t be surprised if true monsters lived at the bottom. It is the nature of such places to have a strong guardian.

  I’ve been told each prefecture was built to last a hundred thousand years, Cha Ming said. They come from a time when humans and demons warred constantly. Mostly due to humans encroaching on demon territory. As they always seem to do.

  As they should, Sun Wukong said.

  What? Cha Ming asked.

  It’s every creature’s duty to live and multiply, Sun Wukong said. Demons know this, no matter what they say. It’s nature’s way. Unfortunately, nature is harsh. It’s a harder fact to accept for some than others. The Dao is not separate from nature, Cha Ming. It’s an aspect of it. Demonic qi is only part of the whole. Remember that.

  Cha Ming nodded. The man’s words made sense. Still, he wished there was another way. It was a hard truth that not only applied to the cultivation world, but the world he’d come from in the first life he remembered. Humans and the rest of nature did not like coexisting. It was only when people realized they needed nature that they ever stopped. Even then, it might be too late.

  Other concerns for another time, Cha Ming thought. He was not here to solve one of mankind’s greatest questions. He was here to think on more immediate and simple things. His first concern was his cultivation. It had stalled at the peak of middle rune carving. He had accumulated the energy with arduous cultivation, but he lacked a way forward. He lacked a concept to advance. He wasn’t sure what concept it would be, but his trip to Stargazer City had loosened something in his mind. It was a piece of a knot, if not the full thing that he needed to unravel.

  It’s not life, Cha Ming thought. It’s not greenery. It’s not blooming or falling leaves. In fact, it almost seems as if it has nothing to do with plants.” He thought a moment, looking at the waves crashing against the shore. Teacher? Are the stars alive?

  That’s a dumb question, Sun Wukong said. They’re dead as doorknobs. They’re big balls of fire that burn hotter and hotter until they peak, then grow colder and colder until they die.

  Nothing magical? Nothing extraordinary? Cha Ming asked.

  They’re just like in your world, Sun Wukong replied. Once, perhaps, they lived. In times lost to memory. No one knows. What I can say is that the starry skies bring life to everything inside them. The suns and stars might be dead, but they are necessary. They hang up there in the sky, ever expanding, but their flames are finite. In time, the last of them will burn out.

  Cha Ming had expected as much. Still, the answer left him wanting. There was a single moon across every sky. Why did the same not apply to the sun? Another mystery came to mind: The Inkwell Plane was not spherical, yet it possessed its own sun, though he wondered if it orbited the plane instead of the other way around.

  I need to think on this morning, Cha Ming said. Enlightenment can’t be chased.

  He didn’t have unlimited funds or memory crystals. That thought brought talismans to mind, and the limitations he’d recently discovered in his craft. When would he ever get back to it? His trip to Stargazer City had made him think on what he was missing. The truth was a complex puzzle he needed to tease out one piece at a time. The Burning Lake Prefecture was so orderly and well built, but going to the demon city had shown him a different perspective. Did everything need to be neatly built and organized? Could a city not function as a wild patchwork? He’d never thought it possible until he’d seen the city’s haphazard layout.

  Shneraz had told him demon cities mimicked demon lands. What if his talismans were like a city? What if he was being too strict in how they were built? Cities could take vastly different shapes. People could as well. Many different shapes were possible with a mouth, two eyes, and a nose. And that was just humans. Could components somehow be rearranged?

  As for his mission, there were too many pieces and not enough answers. Crying Toad was still experimenting on his latest concoction, and Cha Ming refused to share any details of it with the team. Loose lips would destroy its effectiveness as surely as a well-timed antidote. As for Special Night, she’d made progress but needed time. She’d hired a discreet craftsman that could build what she needed, and the matter couldn’t be rushed. What else could they do since survivors couldn’t be captured and corpses burned away?

  Killjoy, on the other hand, was relatively relaxed. Banditry was down, but that was only because shipments were down to twenty percent of their original levels. Risks did that to trade. Stargazer City and Shimmerwing City, the capital of the Iridescent Phoenix Clan in this area, were both getting hit hard. Shimmerwing City was less affected, mostly due to the relative value of its shipments. They had upped their guard, and some bandit attacks had been rebuffed. Was someone just trying to starve out the Star-Eye Monkey Clan, or did they want something else? He didn’t have those answers.

  That left Shneraz, Black Fish, Mi Fei, and Xiao Bai. The last two were out of commission. Apparently, something had shaken Mi Fei on the trip, and she needed to rest. Mi Fei had wanted to hide this, but Xiao Bai had told Huxian as a concerned friend. Since they weren’t up to much, they would go to M&T Tailors to help uncover abilities. That happened to be something he needed help with, so he encouraged that course of action.

  Cha Ming had spoken to Shneraz briefly before his departure. He healed surprisingly slowly for a demon, and he’d told Cha Ming it had something to do with the anatomy of a Golden Dragon. During his trip home, he would locate the infamous Pale Lady, who was also called Rust Bringer by some. According to
Silver Fish’s initial report, she had been involved in a fair number of incidents he’d tried to prevent. As for Silver Fish himself, he was still nailing down details on past cases while Special Night was running a search on missing individuals during her spare time.

  There’s never enough time, Cha Ming thought. He looked at the water. It was tranquil. Eternal. How much time would it take for all this water to change out? How many streams ran in and out of it? Of those, how many ran below ground and how many above? Then there was rain and evaporation to consider. All components in the time equation. The lake wore an illusion of permanence, yet like all things, it was transient.

  Cha Ming looked to the trees, the plants, and the people who came here. All with differing purposes. Yet deep down, he liked to think they were all here for the same reason—to reconnect with their roots and their nature. The starting point for their common story.

  He smiled as he thought about the beginning of his own journey. It had started at Green Leaf Academy. He’d been naïve then. In many ways. He still was. During his first days, he’d been so worried about his cultivation method. With no money to his name, he’d learned talisman crafting from Elder Ling. Now, making them was as simple as breathing.

  He chuckled, then stopped walking. Only now did he notice he was walking off the paved path, on the grass between it and the lake. There was a tree there, and it was tall and cast a long shadow. There was a blanket beneath it, and an old man sat upon it. A small cat sat on his lap, and before him was an Angels and Devils board.

  “Do you play, young man?” the man asked. Something tickled the back of Cha Ming’s mind as he said this. It was a nostalgic feeling. “Not many do at your age.”

  “Perhaps I’m older than I look,” Cha Ming said. “Are you waiting for someone?”

  “I wait for anyone who wishes to play,” the old yet spry voice said. He was wearing a conical hat that hid most of his features. His cat rubbed against him possessively.

  “Then would you mind a game?” Cha Ming asked. “I’m feeling nostalgic. I can’t help but remember a simpler time.”

  The older man chuckled. “That’s what us old ones should be doing. You’re hardly old. But if you wish to play, why don’t you go first? Devils start.”

  Cha Ming took a seat. He hesitated only briefly before placing the first stone. A black stone at the center. It was the only point that couldn’t be mirrored. An asymmetric beginning. He remembered as he played the stone that his story had started out with Angels and Devils. It had started with a brush. The same sacred item that had given him a second chance at life.

  “An interesting opening,” the old man said. “Very difficult to play well. There are no points to be had in the center unless you carefully control the game.”

  “Yet the influence of playing at the center can’t be denied,” Cha Ming said. In his opinion, it gave him unlimited flexibility. He and the old man played. Once again, nostalgia hit him hard. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to play a proper match? He knew the answer. It was the match that had led to the destruction of the World Tree.

  Yet now that he was playing, he realized how silly he’d been in avoiding the game. His stress melted away as he played. He didn’t stop to think. That is, until he realized he’d once played this exact same game long ago. He frowned, and then his eyes widened as he looked up into familiar bright eyes. An old man grinned back at him. The black-and-white cat on his lap purred with satisfaction at finally having been recognized.

  “Elder Ling?” Cha Ming exclaimed.

  “The very same,” Elder Ling replied. He played his next stone differently than he had last time. “It’s been ages, young man, though time flows much more slowly in this realm than on the Ling Nan Plane. A few years have passed for me, but I imagine it’s been much longer for you, hasn’t it?”

  “Over a hundred years,” Cha Ming whispered. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “For an old man like me, a few years won’t make a difference,” Elder Ling said smugly. “The same applies to Mr. Mao Mao, of course. Speaking of which, would your friend like to…”

  Cha Ming immediately called out, and to his surprise, Huxian pounced out of a void rift near him. All five of his friends burst out from around him using much the same kind of storage trick he’d used before with his tails. They ran off to the side, and to his surprise, Huxian bowed and presented a gift. Huxian and friends stayed in small animal forms as they presented offerings that Huxian had apparently been working on for a very long time. Mr. Mao Mao seemed pleased. Very pleased.

  Elder Ling coughed. “It’s been a while since he’s gotten tribute. He was growing irate. I appreciate all the grovelling your brother and his friends are doing.”

  “I think they feel they’re getting the better end of the deal, somehow,” Cha Ming said, eyeing the group. “I’m really not sure how it works. But enough about them. What about you? I only made the connection between you and the Inky Sea Sect a short while ago. I heard it was broken. I’d wanted to visit you, but when I inquired as to the location of the sect, I was told it was on one of the many islands in the Central Inky Sea. I wasn’t planning on visiting for many more years.”

  “That happened decades ago,” Elder Ling said wistfully. “Our sect was the mightiest, and it broke into four parts. Mine is called the West Sea Sect. Most call me Daoist West Sea, or West Sea Guardian.”

  “It sounds like a prestigious position,” Cha Ming said.

  “It is,” Elder Ling admitted. “Though I’d rather not get tied up with honorifics. If you dare so much as breathe of them, I’ll beat you to a pulp.” He sighed and looked out to the lake. “As for why we’re meeting early, it’s a bit of a coincidence, really. I’ve taken on a disciple. I’ll be training him for a short while before I go back. There are other duties I must attend to, of course, but I thought it would be nice to take a peek and see how much you’ve grown.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine what kind of disciple you’d recruit,” Cha Ming said. Who would be worthy to study under the person he saw before him? Even splintered, the Inky Sea Sect must be mighty. Had he made a prefecture lord his disciple? Maybe a prince or king in disguise? Cha Ming had encountered powerful cultivators, but Lord Burning Lake and Lord Dripping Blade were drops in a bucket compared to the sea that was Elder Ling. It was easy to tell the difference.

  Rune-gathering cultivators were anomalies in the void. Worlds upon themselves. As for Elder Ling, he couldn’t even be detected. Cha Ming sensed absolutely nothing from him. There was no karma surrounding him, and there were no ripples in ambient qi or space or time. He resembled a normal mortal in a place where cultivators were abundant. How strong was he if Cha Ming’s Eyes of Truth couldn’t pierce his shell?

  It was a terrifying thought. Paralyzing, even. Who was Elder Ling? What legends surrounded him? Yet this moment lasted no more than a few seconds before his mind wrestled free and he remembered what was important: This man was Elder Ling. His teacher. He’d been nothing but kind to Cha Ming. He was a humble man. A jovial man who was a little crazy at times. He had an overly possessive cat, and sometimes, he acted ignorant. There was a youthful charm about him despite his old age. But most importantly, he was kind. He would never hurt Cha Ming.

  With that in mind, they continued playing. It was a continuation of the same game, but they thought more with each passing move. Cha Ming was a better player than he once was. He was a completely different person now. And Elder Ling, sensing this, changed accordingly. He respected Cha Ming’s development and skill. He might be better than Cha Ming, given how many centuries or millennia he’d lived, but he was a kind teacher above all else. It showed in the game he played.

  “Thank you for the game,” Cha Ming said, inclining his head when the game ended.

  Elder Ling simply smiled. “It’s always nice to see kids grow,” the old man said. “I’m hoping you’ll surpass me one day. That would be one of my greatest joys—to play a game in earnest and lose.” It
was a teacher’s way of thinking. A selfless way.

  “Your new disciple. What’s he like?” Cha Ming asked. Elder Ling had never offered to be his master. In fact, he’d refused the notion. He wondered what kind of person could strike his fancy.

  “He is troubled,” Elder Ling replied. “He is young. He has room to grow. He is very different than you were when we first met. You lacked confidence and experience. You’re still gaining both of them. You are a fire that grows brighter with every step you take. As for him? He has fire. Oh, yes, he has more of that than he can handle. But he hides it behind a wall of ice. He has numbed himself to the world. He refuses to interact with it.”

  “He sounds stubborn,” Cha Ming said.

  “He will learn,” Elder Ling said. “I’ll tease it out of him. That’s half the fun in teaching a disciple, you know. They’re like puzzles you work at every day. A knot you’re trying to untie. Little by little, until you’re done. And in the end, you have a complete puzzle. Something that doesn’t need to be assembled by anyone. You have a nice piece of string that can make whatever it wants of itself. But enough of that. Tell me what happened since you and I parted.”

  Cha Ming told him. He spoke, starting from Fairweather City and the devils plotting against it. He told him of the lightning tribulation and of the kind doctor Li Yin and the bandits. He spoke of the Alabaster Group and the Obsidian Syndicate, and of a poisoned king and a corrupted seal. Then he told him of the Bridge of Stars.

  “Heartbreak is the greatest hurdle anyone can ever face,” Elder Ling said. “Believe me. I know.”

  “I’ll never forget her,” Cha Ming said. “I can’t forget her.”

  “That’s good,” Elder Ling said. “Never let anyone tell you any different. To forget her would be a sin, boy.”

  Cha Ming nodded. “I made a promise that day. I’ll become an immortal. I’ll find her. If I need to fight Yama for her soul, I will.”