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

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Author’s Note and Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Previously in Painting the Mists

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Mission

  Chapter 2: Meeting

  Chapter 3: Complications

  Chapter 4: Flight

  Chapter 5: Crimson

  Chapter 6: Xia Clan

  Chapter 7: Team

  Chapter 8: A Familiar Face

  Chapter 9: Preparation

  Chapter 10: Between Friends

  Chapter 11: Employment

  Chapter 12: Interception

  Chapter 13: Target

  Chapter 14: Outcasts

  Chapter 15: Stargazer City

  Chapter 16: Conflict

  Chapter 17: Builders of Roads

  Chapter 18: Ghost Story

  Interlude: Not-So-Secret Weapon

  Chapter 19: Crown

  Chapter 20: Reunion

  Chapter 21: Gift

  Chapter 22: The Li Clan

  Chapter 23: Confrontation

  Chapter 24: Unblemished Azure

  Chapter 25: Counting Stars

  Chapter 26: Trace

  Chapter 27: Serrendil’s Story

  Chapter 28: Memory

  Chapter 29: Challenge

  Chapter 30: Constellations

  Chapter 31: Mirror of Dark Intentions

  Chapter 32: The Builder’s Legacy

  Chapter 33: A Legacy of Ink and Pain

  Chapter 34: Battle Lines

  Chapter 35: The Weight of an Empire

  Epilogue

  A Note to Readers

  About the Author

  Further Reading

  The Cultivation Systems

  Crown of the Starry Sky

  Book 11 of Painting the Mists

  by Patrick G. Laplante

  Copyright © 2021 by Patrick G. Laplante

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book. Requests for permission should be addressed to the publisher.

  Crown of the Starry Sky is a work of fiction. Names, organizations, places, and incidents portrayed in this novella are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual, events, locales, or persons is purely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Published by: Patrick G. Laplante

  First edition, 2021

  ISBN: 978-1-989578-18-6

  Other Painting the Mists books:

  Clear Sky

  Blood Moon

  Light in the Darkness

  Pure Jade

  Corrupted Crimson

  Kindling

  Shifting Tides

  Shattered Lands

  Edge of Oblivion

  Words of Creation

  Crown of the Starry Sky

  Claddings of Light (Forthcoming)

  Author’s Note and Acknowledgments

  Wow. It’s already that time again. I’ve finally found my groove, so I was able to finish this book with a month to spare. I hope to get the next one out to you all even sooner. In fact, it’s already written and out to Crystal, my editor.

  Things are looking up this Ox Year. Vaccines are making their way around the world, and there is substantially less toxicity flying around the internet. With any luck, COVID-19 will be taken care of by this time next year, and we can all get back to a new normal. Whatever that new normal is.

  I’m not big on pre-book rambles anymore, so I’ll keep this short. Once again, I’d like to thank my wife, Xing Wen, for encouraging me on my journey. I’d like to thank my parents for their silent support, and my brothers and my sister for much of the same.

  I’d like to thank this book’s beta readers: Aljoscha Volk, Drew Kennedy, John Wilson, Peter Zandvliet, and our newest addition, Amanda Hittenmiller. Quite a bit more feedback this time around, which is good—I always aim to improve.

  Many thanks to Crystal Watanabe again for editing of the series. Thank you to Samuel Alves for the wonderful cover. The Tree of Life looks amazing. Keep up the good work.

  Last, but not least, thank you to my readers. I write to tell people stories, and a story is worth nothing if it isn’t shared. I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Cheers,

  Patrick G. Laplante

  To the underdogs. Stay strong, and you’ll get there eventually.

  Previously in Painting the Mists

  Cha Ming and Huxian ascend from the Ling Nan Plane to the Transcendent Inkwell Plane, where they are once again at the bottom of the food chain. The place is massive in comparison, and despite the much larger population, power and knowledge are guarded jealously.

  While Huxian fights for survival in strange new demon lands, Cha Ming must impress his new masters. To do so, he reveals an immortal-grade technique called Words of Creation. The city lord’s jealous son, Dao God Ember Lake, is determined to obtain it. To do so, he blacklists Cha Ming, forcing him into the slums of the Dripping Blade Prefecture.

  Cha Ming doesn’t take kindly to bullying. He might not have access to a transcendent-grade cultivation technique, but he can create talismans. When he tries to fight back and make a name for himself, his friends are brutally murdered in retribution. The only survivor, Silver Fish, is reborn as a demon by inheriting the power of the ancient Inkwell Clan. He wants nothing more than revenge.

  To that end, they both join the Kingfisher Guard, where they embark on a brutal life-or-death mission against evil cultists. In their journey through desert ruins, they make new friends: Daoist Eternal Song, Dao God Killjoy, Daoist Special Night, and Daoist Crying Toad. Together, they overcome frightening odds against creatures of sand and a split-souled devil cultivator, obtaining handsome rewards and great merit.

  Meanwhile, in the demon lands, Huxian is taunted by dreaded missions from space-time itself. He and his friends are pulled into a dangerous chain quest that invokes the ire of the powerful White-Eyed Tiger Clan. After multiple brushes with death, they burn down the tiger clan’s blood fruit orchard, further cementing their enmity before they run out to sea.

  In the Dripping Blade Prefecture, Ember Lake is no longer able to attack Cha Ming and Silver Fish openly. Knowing that justice won’t be served otherwise, Cha Ming lures him out of the city by accompanying Eternal Song and friends on a dangerous gold-ranked mission. They set out at sea, where they are to rendezvous with Huxian and friends. Dangerous spatial storms and a surprise attack by Ember Lake and a crew of pirates force both groups into void rifts connected to a crumbling pocket realm, where cultists and White-Eyed Tigers are colluding to destabilize the plane.

  Cha Ming, Huxian, and friends defeat the cultists, but they are unable to prevent the collapse of the demi-plane. Cha Ming and Eternal Song combine their powers of song and creation to save the only thing they can—the Golden Dragon’s Music Box. The Spirit of the Golden Dragon rewards them and entrusts Cha Ming with an important mission. For now, however, they must fight ships of demons and cultivators, and a dreaded rune-gathering elder of the Origami Clan.

  With the help of the golden dragon’s seal, they destroy their would-be ambushers and slay Ember Lake. Doing so means they can no longer return to the Dripping Blade Prefecture and must continue to the Burning Lake Prefecture across the sea.

  There, they meet Mi Fei, the latest reincarnation of Yu Wen, Cha Ming’s lover from Jade Moon Plan
et. In this life, she is the heir to the Mi Clan—and Eternal Song’s fiancée. Moreover, she remembers nothing of her previous life. Not even Cha Ming.

  Prologue

  Chaotic waves buffeted Silver Fish’s body as he swam through the deep waters of the Burning Lake. He took care to avoid danger zones and areas of concentrated demonic activity. Creatures of the deep swam beside him and around him, inspecting this unknown entity that had suddenly appeared within their territory. He ignored them, mostly, choosing instead to push forward and put as much distance between him and his pursuer as possible.

  The Burning Lake was a large body of water situated more or less at the center of the Burning Lake Prefectural City. It might not be the largest or deepest of lakes, but it was much larger than the average village and a quarter as deep. Its waters were inky, like most waters were, which helped shroud his presence as he evaded pursuit. Thus cloaked, his own personal shroud of ink could focus on guarding him against the machinations of the lake. They were out to get him, just like everyone else.

  Hide, he told himself. Run. You’re prey. You can rest later. His lungs burned, as did his muscles, but he carried on despite the fatigue. He might be one the lake’s favored few, but the lake was still of nature. That meant it was capricious and heartless. Moreover, there was nothing unnatural about the hunt. Nothing unseemly about the chase. Silver Fish was prey, and his hunter several orders of magnitude stronger than he was. It was a fair matchup, the lake told him, and he knew it was right. His odds were much better than the average fish could ask for.

  Silver Fish, a pale-skinned demon of a man, finally stopped to rest after several minutes of exertion, taking shelter in a forest of algae. The clean lake supported many such sub-ecosystems by virtue of the nine freshwater rivers that fed it. Relatively speaking, it was a safe place for demons. Millions of bestial demons and quite a few initiation-realm demons in human form lived here, sustaining themselves on the ample greenery and prey.

  Yet where there was prey, there were also predators. For why else would he be hiding here, among the helpless and the scared? It had been several days since he’d jumped ship in the harbor, avoiding every vessel before working his way up the well-guarded stream. Ever since then, he’d been hunted, a fugitive on the run. He’d never laid eyes on his hunter, but he knew that the moment he did, it would be too late.

  Prefecture Lord Dripping Blade. That was the only person it could be. He was an authority figure from another prefecture, and a man who, by all rights, shouldn’t even be here. Yet his son had died by Silver Fish’s hand, and no one begrudged his presence. He was powerful, and thus a law unto himself. Just as nature intended. All was right in the world, though Silver Fish wished it wasn’t.

  Just stay low, Silver Fish thought to himself. No. Not thought. Thought required mental reflection. It was more like being lectured by the instincts in his blood. The same demonic ink that hid his presence ran through his veins, whispering well-hidden secrets into his unconscious mind. This same blood told him that if he hid long enough, the predator stalking him would eventually go away. Predators were imperfect, and they would eventually tire in much the same way he would.

  So hide he did. Amid the seaweed and lesser fishes. The latter eyed him warily as he swam beside them, remembering what he’d done to some of their brethren. Silver Fish wasn’t part of the food chain, per se, but he was quickly asserting himself as a dominant creature in this underwater forest, as much as he ate his lessers with great reluctance. Though slight, he could sense a sort of kinship with these creatures, the denizens of the inky lake. Within their veins ran traces of the same ink that filled his own, the same ink that filled the rivers, the lakes, and the oceans.

  Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you, he conveyed to the fish. He used ink and will to communicate his intent. He wasn’t here to eat—he was here to hide. Besides, he’d just eaten. And much to Silver Fish’s relief, they grudgingly accepted his explanation and didn’t dart away, thus alerting his hunter. In exchange, he didn’t give in to his hunger. Better to be cautious for now.

  Several minutes passed, but the presence didn’t disappear. Something about it changed, however, something he couldn’t put his finger on. The cultivator’s aura transitioned from that of a hunter to one who was resting. Could he go out? Was he safe? His instincts were undecided. Fortunately, he had others he could trust in. His neighbors immediately began venturing outside of the algae and into more open waters, where they could nibble at smaller floating bits of nutrition and the outermost—and softest—algae leaves.

  It was peaceful, for a time. He fed, and he continued absorbing the lake’s ample demonic energy. Damn Dripping Blade, he thought as he tentatively munched on the same algae leaves as the fish. It wasn’t Silver Fish’s fault that the man’s son was a psychopathic nutcase hell-bent on destroying his family and friends. You’d have to be blind not to see it. Yet here he was, not leaving until his grudge was fulfilled. Would Silver Fish be doomed to stay here beneath the lake, forever subsisting on what it provided until he broke past the initiation realm? That could take centuries, given the local conditions. He might as well wait for the prefecture lord to die of old age.

  No, if he could help it, he would find a way to get stronger, faster. Surely there were useful treasures in such a vast lake. And as he thought it, he noticed something in its waters. Something floating, shining, and glinting in the moonlight that somehow pierced through the omnipresent darkness.

  What’s that? Silver Fish thought. Memories surfaced in his blood. Pockets of information. Three possibilities came to mind, and all of them excited him. One was a pure-blooded demon koi that he could use to add to his bloodline. Another was a deep-lake silver alga, a plant that was rich in demonic energy. It could also be a trap, of course. Everything could be a trap. But either of these things would reduce his journey to the Investiture Realm substantially. Careful. Verify first. Confirm before any other predators get a chance to eat it.

  He approached the item in the water. It was a round thing, silver colored and free of corruption. Surrounding it was a strange bubble of dense demonic energy. Though this was neither of the two items he’d thought of, it was still a pleasant surprise. Was it something new? It felt dangerously powerful. Perhaps it was a rare natural treasure, or the remnants of a powerful demon. He wondered nervously why no one had consumed it.

  The other fish around Silver Fish thought likewise. They rose up around the item, perplexed at its existence. When some of the smaller fish moved to nip at it, stronger demons forced them away. Silver Fish frowned when he saw this. Who were they to push others around? Wasn’t he the strongest among them? Shouldn’t he have the item?

  A modicum of rage bubbled up inside him as he flew out of the swarm of fish. He confronted one of them, who reverted to his human form, that of a gilled man with dark, scaly skin. He wielded a trident, a standard weapon for water-based initiation demons. The others also drew their demon weapons, and the match began in earnest.

  Silver Fish grinned. He didn’t draw his weapon but held out his bare hands. Inky waters swirled around his arms, daring them to fight. They looked at each other, hesitated, then clicked in anger before fleeing. It only took an instant for them to realize they were bested, and that he wasn’t worth fighting.

  He ignored the rest of them and moved toward his prize. And what a prize it was. If he took it, he would gain at least a quarter of the energy required for his next advancement. The demonic energy was thick and pure. It hovered around a priceless silver treasure that he would also claim as his own. He caught the item in his hands, and the demonic energy flooded into him. It was a wondrous sensation.

  His bones crackled as they readjusted and strengthened. His blood quickened and thickened. His skin grew tougher, as did the thin layer of black scales he could summon around himself as armor. His demon weapon, a large anchor he could summon at will, grew heavier and harder.

  Now what to do with this wondrous treasure? Silver Fish though
t, looking at the silver item that remained after all the demonic energy had been consumed. Then he frowned. Why is it even here? It was a small silver ball that radiated rune-carving energy. He wasn’t sure what it did, but surely it must be useful.

  Besides, even if it wasn’t, the silver string leading away from it would be. Down in the inky lake, there were few things more useful than string. He pulled at the item, and it was only then that he realized his big mistake. Ancestors, how could I be so stupid?

  Black water surged around him as the string pulled back. It dragged him several kilometers in less than a minute, eventually yanking him out of the waters and into the open air. It happened so quickly he had no time at all to react. One minute, he was in the water tugging at a silver treasure, and the next, he was gasping for breath. No, wait, he wasn’t a fish. He could breathe in the air. He adjusted and breathed, though it did little to calm him—his movements were completely sealed.

  He tried desperately to free himself from the invisible energy binding him. He summoned his inky sea domain and pushed with everything he had. It was useless, of course. How could he hope to resist against such a foe? A three-colored domain of water, wood, and fire pushed away the ink, and within the domain, he saw something that made his blood run cold: spatial energy. This wasn’t just a domain, but a world projection. A rune-gathering cultivator had indeed caught him like a stupid fish.

  “There’s no use struggling,” said a calm, lazy, and almost cheerful voice.

  Silver Fish tried to rise, but his captor would have none of it. His body was heavy on the small wooden boat, which contained a tackle box, a fishing rod, and what looked like a picnic lunch. A large cat looked at him curiously. No. Hungrily.

  “He’s not yours to eat. Sit down.” The cat scowled and walked away instead of obeying. “Cats. No respect,” the cultivator complained.

  This was it. This was what Silver Fish had been afraid of. He’d been running for a week, but now, he’d finally been caught. Was it Prefecture Lord Dripping Blade, whose son he had killed for sweet vengeance, or the loathsome boy’s uncle, Prefecture Lord Burning Lake?