Edge of Oblivion: Book 9 of Painting the Mists Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author's Note and Acknowledgments

  Previously in Painting the Mists

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: The Eastern Desert

  Chapter 2: Mark of Wind

  Chapter 3: Fierce Opponent

  Chapter 4: The Candle Dragon’s Hourglass

  Chapter 5: Cessation

  Chapter 6: Hostilities

  Chapter 7: Mountain

  Chapter 8: Death

  Chapter 9: Discord

  Chapter 10: Sunrise

  Chapter 11: Sunset

  Chapter 12: Next Step

  Chapter 13: Preparations

  Chapter 14: Evergreen

  Chapter 15: Five Poisonous Monarchs

  Chapter 16: Understanding

  Chapter 17: Samsara

  Chapter 18: Moving Forward

  Chapter 19: Pushing Ahead

  Chapter 20: Last Chance

  Chapter 21: Destiny

  Chapter 22: World Tree

  Chapter 23: Opening

  Chapter 24: Middle Game

  Chapter 25: End Game

  Chapter 26: Gathering

  Chapter 27: Calamity

  Chapter 28: Mourning

  Epilogue

  A Note to Readers

  About the Author

  The Cultivation Systems

  Book 9: Edge of Oblivion

  by Patrick G. Laplante

  Copyright © 2020 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.

  Edge of Oblivion is a work of fiction. Names, organizations, places, and incidents portrayed in this novel 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

  Editing and Interior Design by: Crystal Watanabe

  Cover Illustration and Design by: Samuel Alves

  First edition, 2020

  ISBN: 978-1-989578-13-1

  Other Painting the Mists Books:

  Clear Sky

  Blood Moon

  Light in the Darkness

  Pure Jade

  Corrupted Crimson

  Kindling

  Shattered Lands

  Edge of Oblivion

  Words of Creation (forthcoming)

  Dedication

  To those who are overwhelmed. Hang in there.

  You can make it.

  Author’s Note and Acknowledgments

  I try to keep a positive note in my writing (aside from the obvious satire in my prologues), so I hesitate to talk much about current affairs. Recent events, however, dictate that I should take a stance on some key issues. I don’t do this lightly—political opinions can cost authors their career. So I’ll keep it simple and straightforward, focusing on issues I think shouldn’t be (but somehow are) divisive.

  First: Black lives matter. There is obvious systemic racism in the US and in my home country, Canada. While I don’t believe I’ve perpetuated racism, and I don’t consider myself racist, I know now that I may have said or done things that make things worse without realizing it. If I have done so, I apologize. That was not my intention, and I will try to be more self-critical and do better.

  Second: COVID-19 is a seriously huge problem. Wear masks. Practice social distancing. Work together to keep everyone safe.

  That’s it. I’m not going to comment on anything else. Now back to personal updates.

  As I write this note, I’m approaching the 75% mark on a secret project, which is not-so-secretly another book. I’m going to finish it, then sit on it before publishing. I don’t want a repeat of Violet Fate. For those of you who don’t know it, I published a Painting the Mists side story about Cha Ming’s disciples. But when I sat down to write the second part of the duology, I realized the first part wasn’t up to my increasing standards. So instead of writing the second part, I unpublished it. I don’t plan on rewriting it. My apologies to anyone affected.

  Writing is a journey, and I can only try improving with every book. I have two goals in mind every time I write: your enjoyment and my own. I especially hope you’ll enjoy Edge of Oblivion, as it finishes off the first arc of Painting the Mists, Angels and Devils.

  Before moving on, I’d like to finish with some words of thanks. Thank you to my wife, Xing Wen, for your continued support. Thank you to my parents, my brothers, and my sister for being there for me.

  I’d like to thank this book’s beta readers: Dave Yeung, Aljoscha Volk, Drew Kennedy, John Wilson, and Ardash. Your feedback was a great help in improving the story.

  Many thanks to Crystal Watanabe for her excellent editing support. My writing continues to improve with her help, so I’m glad to have her on board. Thank you to Samuel Alves for the great cover—I didn’t know how painting a Taotie would turn out, and he didn’t disappoint.

  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

  Previously in Painting the Mists

  To repay a life debt to Wang Jun, Cha Ming journeys to the Southern Lands to instigate a blood feud between the Wang family and the Spirit Temple.

  Blending in proves surprisingly easy. Through clever use of his Seventy-Two Transformations Technique, mind-skimming techniques, and the Monkey King’s direct interference, he forges a false identity as Pai Xiao, a prodigal spiritual blacksmith. War is brewing, however. He barely creates the first part of his disguise before getting dragged into a fight with a Blood Master Monastery. Tens of thousands die, and though he destroys the monastery, he is only able to save a single life, a girl named Mo Ling.

  In order to bolster his disguise and facilitate his infiltration of the Wang family, Cha Ming travels to Ashes, taking the helpless Mo Ling with him. By crafting a few key weapons and forging a false history, he catches the eye of Director Wang Yong, who asks him to work for him in Bastion, the capital of the Ji Kingdom. Cha Ming accepts but is forced to alter Mo Ling’s memories and leave her behind. He dares not risk her safety by pulling her closer to Zhou Li’s pet project.

  Cha Ming works hard to gain the favor of the Blackthorn Conglomerate, the Wang family’s secret Southern business. His efforts pay off. Through carefully concealed ingenuity, he manages to join the special weapons development division. Their goal? A weapon called the Breaker. It is a treasure meant to destroy the defense of the Song Kingdom, Southhaven Wall.

  Instigation is a delicate art. His first attempts gain him the enmity of Bastion’s Blood Master Monastery. He is forced to go mining north of Bastion Wall in the Shattered Lands, where a life-leaching aura makes it impossible for all but the strongest to function. Through a series of adventures, he discovers the source of this supposed curse—a powerful demon monarch guarding the Leyline of Gold. He first breaks through to half-step rune carving to protect himself from the aura. Then, by speaking to the Life-Leaching Monarch, he discovers that the last remaining component for his body cultivation, the Gold Source Marrow, has been taken by the Wang family.

  Upon returning to Bastion, Cha Ming discovers that things are moving quickly in the Southern Alliance. Due to a r
apidly moving deadline, he is approached by the crown prince of the Ji Kingdom to betray the Blackthorn Conglomerate and join the Ji Kingdom in earnest. Only he can develop the Breaker on time, and they know it. Cha Ming accepts, knowing full well that his betrayal will greatly damage the Wang family’s reputation.

  The next few months are a mad rush. By using his increasing importance, Cha Ming gains access to the vault. He secretly steals the Gold Source Marrow and breaks through to half-step blood awakening. Then, after witnessing Mo Ling giving birth, he discovers his own meaning of life and imbues it into his Living Talisman.

  With his power at an all-time high and a dreaded Taotie heading to Bastion courtesy of Feng Ming and Gong Xuandi, Cha Ming begins a chain reaction. He slays the three Northern traitors in the Blackthorn Conglomerate, steals the Breaker prototype and data, and raids the vault. He then gives a defective Breaker to the crown prince. As he destroys Bastion’s Blood Master Monastery and Spirit Temple, Feng Ming and Gong Xuandi wreak havoc in the city. Concurrently, the Taotie attacks. Bastion’s wall is broken, leaving the city defenseless against the Life-Leaching Monarch and her army of skeletal spiders.

  Cha Ming escapes the chaos by joining forces with Feng Ming and Gong Xuandi. They leave just as the Taotie is sealed by the South’s transcendent forces. Though he achieved his goal, it came at a great personal cost. Overusing his newly obtained Spirit-Banishing Eyes has blinded him, and guilt at the deaths of millions of innocents is overwhelming.

  While Cha Ming does his part in the South, Wang Jun wages a different war in Gold Leaf City. He resorts to darker methods, using the powers of shadow and fate to forge documents and karma and recover long-lost secrets. That and the resulting assassinations prove too much for Wang Jun. Hong Xin tries to reassure him while waging her own battle with the Icy Heart Pavilion. Though their means aren’t ideal, these rogue members are far from criminal. She strives to unite their respective factions, a difficult task given her possession of the Frozen Heart Oath Stone.

  Circumstances force her hand. The Spirit Temple’s assassins begin slaying members of the Icy Heart Pavilion. She takes advantage of the opportunity to combine their factions, resigning and destroying the Frozen Heart Oath Stone to accomplish this. Free of her karmic obligations to the Red Dust Pavilion, she vows to join Wang Jun and help him sort out his family issues. Unfortunately, Wang Jun’s family has other ideas. They capture her, cripple her cultivation, and force Wang Jun into submission just as he’s about to win.

  As humans struggle on the continent, Huxian walks his own path. His four friends are busy condensing their initiation marks, and he must do the same. To do so, he enters a secret realm hidden in the Silverwing Mountain Range. The realm is cursed with a sun that never sets. The first place he visits is filled with ghosts that are trapped in the moment, forced to relive the last few minutes of their lives in perpetuity. Upon receiving a mysterious gold jade fragment, he decides to free these ghosts. To that end, he journeys to the east, where monks reside.

  The monks have not been reduced to ghosts. Instead, there are cursed to relive their entire lives endlessly. They are chained to the mountain’s shadow, which never disappears due to the shackled sun. Huxian escapes by obtaining a second jade fragment. He follows a deceased monk’s advice and journeys to the west. There, after chasing the scorching sun for what seems like an eternity, he obtains the Spirit-Banishing Scripture and its corresponding eye technique. He uses it to solve the curse of the realm, freeing millions of souls to be reincarnated.

  Cha Ming and Feng Ming journey to the Eastern Desert. Cha Ming is blind and ridden with guilt. Wang Jun, helpless due to Hong Xin’s imprisonment, submits to his brother Wang Ling and Patriarch Wuling. Meanwhile, Huxian’s meddling in the Candle Dragon’s realm has caught the Godbeast’s attention. Huxian accepts the Candle Dragon’s trial because he, more than anyone else, knows what they must face: a fiendish demon unlike any other; a world-ending calamity made flesh.

  Prologue

  Clank. Clank. Clank.

  VOID-X3CX-R04 turned his head sharply toward the sound of metal on the bars of his cage. It was a delicious sound, he decided; every sound had a taste, and every sight had a flavor, adding color to his otherwise dreary existence. Meaning could also be savored. The clanking was a distraction, a simple attempt by simple beings at catching his attention. They were treating him like a two-day-old kitten, an insult if he knew one, but something far preferable to being sealed again, cut off from all sources of sustenance in a place where time lost all meaning.

  Though he preferred this result to the alternative, it didn’t take away from the fact that every single one of these humans was an annoying gnat. The first thing he would do when he broke out of his cage would be to consume whoever was doing the clanging. But then again, what didn’t he want to eat? Alas, the bars imprisoning him, the only things within his reach, were inedible. Their ochre glow reeked of delicious transcendent might, and while he instinctively knew its flavor and its corresponding value, he could only stare at it with a wide, drooling mouth not powerful enough to savor it.

  Clank. Clank. Clank.

  He drank in the sounds, annoyed. Did they think he was a child? Did they think he was mentally incapable? He was smarter than the lot of them, that annoying gnat of a seer included. Sure, he was slow to respond. Who wouldn’t be with a gnawing hunger like his, forever urging him onward, everything in sight just another tasty morsel to fill the endless pit in his stomach? It was a wonder he could even function, let alone recognize each of their delicious scents with everything he had going on in the background.

  But that didn’t stop them from being annoying. The gnat was back, it seemed. This time, however, he brought something tasty. Bones, delicious bones of a peak-core-formation demon were pushed through the bars of his cage. He immediately grabbed them with his horned tentacles, stuffing them into his torso, where his main mouth appeared and bit down on them.

  Bliss. Pure bliss.

  Every time he ate something significant, he felt a sense of raw, untamed happiness. And for a moment, he could even forget the gnawing hunger and that wretched unfilled void that egged him on, telling him to destroy, when really, all things considered, all he wanted to do was paint. He’d tasted many paintings, and he appreciated their colors, their emotion, and their tasty ink. How nice would it be to sit down, sated, and paint on a blank canvas with all the colors that he knew?

  Alas, that would never be his lot in life. He was never meant to create, only to destroy; his master had seen to that, wherever he was. Without him, he could only do what he could to fill his stomach. Right now, that meant pandering to that pesky seer. VOID-X3CX-R04 contorted his face. Was this the kind of response the gnat was looking for? The seer shook his head, so VOID-X3CX-R04 changed his posture—it had worked last time. The seer seemed unimpressed.

  Drat, VOID-X3CX-R04 thought. If he couldn’t please the seer, how could he get more food? He panicked and tried many simple yet energy-efficient gestures. The second platter waited outside his cage, taunting him. The tasty demon-beast meat on it had been shaved off the bones he’d just eaten. He heard a sound coming from the seer but ignored it. What could be more important than the literal feast waiting just outside his cage? After all, that might be the one, the last bit of energy that would finally propel him to the half-step-initiation realm by forming his World-Ending Calamity Mark.

  The seer continued talking, and VOID-X3CX-R04 tasted more buzzing. He scratched his head. He held up a claw. He stood on his head. Nothing seemed to work. So, unsure how to proceed, he did a little dance, though he doubted the seer would understand its subtle intricacies, the emotion behind it, and its significance to his people’s heritage. A lonely people, they’d been forced to come up with a style only they could understand, an amazing development given there were usually only two or three of them in existence at any given moment. The dance failed, predictably. The seer facepalmed and let out more annoying sounds.

  Maybe I should
actually listen to what he’s saying, a small piece of VOID-X3CX-R04’s mind said, if only to get more sustenance. He waited, and the seer repeated himself. Instead of immediately sucking in the sounds like he usually did, he savored them, savored their meaning. Then he looked to the seer in confusion. Just that? You just want me to nod if I understand you? So, he did. Immediately afterward, or as immediately as mere ants could make happen, the tray of beast meat entered the cage. He ate it ravenously, and when he was done, he discovered another tray had appeared. The seer spoke again.

  This time, VOID-X3CX-R04 listened. The seer said words—a silly thing like “stand on one leg and put your hands behind your head, flailing three tentacles.” He did just that, and he was rewarded with another delicious tray. Another tray appeared, and he listened to instructions. He lay flat on his back, propelling his humanlike feet like he was riding a bicycle—a pastime he would enjoy, he was sure, if only he didn’t have to spend every waking moment foraging for food. He finished another tray, and just as he looked to the seer for more instructions, he noticed the man was gone. Everyone but his guards had vanished, and there was no food to be seen.

  VOID-X3CX-R04 howled the song of his people. He’d been played with, given the illusion of endless food, only to have it snatched away. Illusions were tasty but not at all that filling. His stomach let out a soundless growl as it returned to its normal state—empty.

  He sang for what seemed like hours. Likely, it was only a few minutes. Time was subjective that way, especially when you were hungry. No one came. No one cared about him or his plight. He waited. To conserve energy, he lay down in his cage, his tentacles licking at the delicious transcendent bars he couldn’t eat. The time would come, he was sure. But by then, even the entire plane wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his endless hunger or slake his infinite thirst.