Words of Creation: Book 10 of Painting the Mists Read online

The white wizard snorted, flicked his sleeve, then left the square at a trot, where the same police officer that had intercepted Yama ran up to him. He was likely going to give the man a ticket.

  “Amateur,” Yama muttered. “Know your bylaws before you showboat in my city.”

  “Our friend the Marquis of the Rings has an announcement to make,” Mayor Judah continued.

  The crowd clapped, but Yama frowned. What announcement? His eyes widened when a large banner unfolded across the square. It migrated to where the statue had stood, then glowed with runic light as it emanated a massive projection.

  Seriously? Yama thought, rolling his eyes. He wanted to break all these statues to replace them with worse ones? What was depicted was a large statue, a tower with a large flame burning at its peak. The building was black as midnight, and merely looking at it chilled the soul. The crowd cheered when they saw it.

  “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Mayor Judah said with raised hands. “Replace one piece of art with another? What are you playing at?”

  Yama nodded, then waited for the explanation.

  “Behold: our newest piece of functional art!”

  Doors suddenly opened all around the projection. Windows did as well. What looked like a useless decorative tower was actually a tall commercial building filled with office spaces, shops, and restaurants, you name it. Every inch of space was fully utilized, and not a bit of land—save what was necessary to surround the building in enough greenery to meet code—was wasted.

  “We’ve wasted premium land for too long,” Mayor Judah said. “This is but the first of many projects. We will demolish the old, terrible art, and replace them with functional works. This will reduce eyesores while simultaneously bringing revenue to the city and lowering the average property tax in Diyu.”

  Yama almost shed a tear. Everything was as it should be, and nothing could possibly ruin this moment.

  Chapter 1: Arrival

  Planar travel was not for the faint of heart. At least, that was what Cha Ming decided as he, Huxian, and his four friends were jettisoned into a fissure through space generated by the laws of ascension. They floated there for a moment, and for the first time since the Bridge of Stars, they saw the Ling Nan Plane in all its splendor.

  They saw the North and the South, united on one continent, and north of that continent, they saw Haijing deep beneath the ocean waves. Through his Eyes of Truth, Cha Ming saw the leylines crisscrossing the continent. The people and demons were mere ants that quickly faded away as they left this region of space.

  The plane soon disappeared. As it did, Cha Ming realized a simple truth: The Ling Nan Plane was small. It was an insignificant speck of nothing, a tiny flake of land resting in a puddle that floated in a sea of emptiness. Everything he had come to know disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving only himself, his possessions, Huxian, and his friends.

  Their small group was joined by thin but strong lines that fought back the universe’s attempts at separating them. Sun Wukong was there as well, though he was hiding deep within the Clear Sky Brush. He was not ascending, after all, and as such was not shielded from the rigors of breakneck spatial transportation.

  Countless worlds flashed by just like they had on the Bridge of Stars. But this time, Cha Ming was stronger. Not only in terms of qi, but in terms of soul and observational power. In fact, he had to limit what he saw so that he wasn’t overwhelmed with information. The universe was vast and mysterious.

  There were big worlds, middling worlds, and small worlds. The larger worlds were like giant edifices that could be seen from anywhere else in the cosmos. Others were lost in the backdrop, tiny nothings that no one would look at twice. The Yellow River and the massive underworld city, Diyu, on the other hand, were nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

  The Seven Heavens and the Seven Hells were on opposite ends of the universe. The layout was both poetic and practical. From his vantage point, Cha Ming could see both as though he were standing right next to them. The Seven Heavenly Gates opposed the Seven Hellish Doorways, and their guardians mocked and jeered at each other as their armies fought wars and their agents sowed peace and strife.

  There were other large realms. Some resembled mythical animals like the Candle Dragon and the Void Phoenix, while others were human or humanoid. The majority, however, were shaped like the elements or natural phenomena. Within their bodies lived trillions of creatures that drew sustenance from them, all the while trying to break free from their restrictions. It was a futile struggle for most, but some managed to escape and form worlds of their own creation.

  Then there were lesser worlds. Some were thriving, but most were on the decline. It was no wonder, since from his vantage point, Cha Ming could see their true nature: They were remnants or broken fragments of larger worlds. Larger fragments formed transcendent realms, while lesser, dustlike fragments formed places like the Ling Nan Plane, where he’d come from. He could not hope to come from a humbler home plane.

  For every greater world, there were tens of thousands of middling worlds. For every middling world, there were tens of thousands of lesser worlds. They all revolved around the center of the universe, joined together by Diyu but ever expanding away from it. But at its edges, everything ended. Completely and suddenly.

  His eyes saw nothing there.

  Pull back your consciousness, a voice spoke in his mind. It’s dangerous out there.

  It was Sun Wukong, and Cha Ming saw truth in his words. He retracted his senses and focused on his own body and the bodies of his demonic friends. They were traveling at breakneck speed through a great passageway that ripped through the void, and a guiding force was propelling them and protecting them simultaneously.

  All around them, there was emptiness. All around them, there was gray. At the edges of the tunnel, there was something familiar—a deep gray that could only be Grandmist. It was there in much greater amounts than he had ever seen, and it called to him. He reached out to touch it instinctively.

  Don’t! Sun Wukong warned, but it was too late. Cha Ming howled as a cloud of gray mist so thin he could probably breathe it, yet so heavy it would crush the Ling Nan Plane like a bug, inundated his small body.

  Cha Ming screamed. Huxian screamed with him. The mists rampaged through his flesh, his blood, and his bones. They struggled to find somewhere to insert themselves, much like maggots wormed their way around a corpse to find a tender place to rest. And like maggots, they found his weak points almost immediately—his organs, his brains, and his qi pathways. The mists filled them and destroyed them.

  Cha Ming broke apart from the inside, his vitality stores rushing to regenerate all the damage the mists were doing. Yet his organs broke apart as soon as they recovered. Once. Ten times. A hundred times. Only a constant stream of vitality both from Huxian and from the mists themselves sustained him. They wanted to hurt him, yes, but they also wanted to help him. They were creation and destruction but neither simultaneously.

  Somehow, they were also attracted to him.

  It could have been a million times. It could have been a billion. Cha Ming lost track of his many deaths and rebirths. When he finally came to his senses, his body was pristine, and the mists were gone. He gazed inside himself and realized his body had undergone a drastic transformation.

  His bones were unchanged. So was his marrow. His single drop of divine blood still floated proudly in his veins. Most of his flesh had avoided the touch of the mists, but his organs were completely transformed. His five yin and five yang organs had completely reformed, their functions altered but smoother than ever. They exceeded what he’d originally thought was perfection.

  His brain had also changed.

  Many clouds in his mind had lifted, and many natural dampers on his thought processes had been eliminated. He could now observe and analyze more rapidly than ever. The changes also applied to his gray eyes. His mind no longer limited his sight.
r />   The biggest changes, however, were in his meridians and qi pathways. Back in Crystal Falls, he’d forged himself pure white qi pathways with creation qi, replacing the rubble he’d destroyed. Those white pathways were gone now. They’d been replaced by flexible yet strong gray tubing with small periphery connectors. They all connected to his meridians, which were now five times wider than they had been before the change.

  The membrane on his Dantian, which had fused with the shell of his carved core, was still very much connected to it. But the qi seals he’d formed were no longer there. There were no longer many-colored seals. Every seal was fully gray, and any energy his body absorbed could go in and out of his Dantian through any qi pathway without limitations on element. No qi would ever cause them any damage. Not even destruction qi or Grandmist.

  An interesting development.

  The final change he found was in the void in his bones. The small universe was still there, and the many voids still contained their own worlds. In the center of it all, however, was something greater: A tiny fleck of gray resided in the middle of his personal universe, and its presence changed the laws that governed it. It opened a world of possibilities.

  Cha Ming, are you all right? Sun Wukong asked. Cha Ming blinked and realized he’d been asked several times.

  Brother Cha Ming, can you hear me? Huxian asked. The fox was near him but couldn’t touch him.

  I’m fine, Cha Ming answered. He looked past Huxian and saw their traveling speed had slowed. Before them was a world whose volume was three quarters water. A large mound of rock stood at its center. Other small rocks were connected to it in the shape of a star. The water was a strange inky black in color, and a violet demonic mist floated about it. It was massive—thousands of times larger, if not more, than the Ling Nan Plane.

  As they arrived, the tethers binding and protecting them loosened. Other forces took over and began to pull Huxian and Cha Ming down to a corner of the larger continent at the center. Their trajectories were slightly different. They tried grabbing each other, but nothing could be done.

  “We’ll find each other again,” Cha Ming said.

  “Sure thing,” Huxian said with a salute. His friends, fortunately, were going with him. They crashed down toward the massive landmass at breakneck speed, and everything blurred. A tiny island grew to a land the size of the entire main continent on the Ling Nan Plane. Cha Ming smashed into the largest city there without seeing it longer than a brief moment. It took a few seconds before Cha Ming could open his eyes. He was on his hands and knees. Beneath him was a large jade plate, which was over a hundred meters in diameter. It was covered in runes he did not understand. They glowed softly, but soon, they faded.

  There was a hum, and guards rushed through a large door. It was several dozen feet tall and half as wide. The armored guards pointed weapons at him. Their leader, a man in rune-covered cultivation robes, stepped up, clasped his hands, and bowed lightly.

  “Greetings,” the man said with a half smile and a gaze that penetrated through flesh and bone. “By what Dao name may I use to address you?”

  Cha Ming remembered a voice in his mind as he’d been traveling, and the flood of information that had come along with the mists. What is your Dao name? it had asked, and to find the answer, he’d reached inside his very soul.

  Cha Ming licked his lips, adjusting them to the unfamiliar language he now knew thanks to the plane’s interference and the universe’s meddling. He stood up slowly and dusted himself off before straightening himself in a dignified manner. He looked down to his robes, which were torn and tattered, and summoned a wisp of creation qi to make himself white robes with gray trim and black runes.

  “Please call me Daoist Clear Sky,” Cha Ming said, bowing slightly lower than the man before him to reflect his obviously higher cultivation. Late rune carving, his eyes deduced. The guards are barely initial-rune-carving cultivators. I wouldn’t stand a chance fighting them.

  “Daoist Clear Sky, please call me Daoist Feathered Snake,” the man said. His robes were green like his eyes, a dark shade you might find on a weed, and crisscrossed with black runes. His hair was black, and his skin was lightly tanned. His half smile was a smirk that bore Cha Ming no actual malice. Instead, he saw only mild irritation at an otherwise calm cultivation day being interrupted by an ascending cultivator. It was accompanied by the disdain a strong cultivator might show a weak one.

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Cha Ming said. He glanced to the guards, who still held up their spears.

  “Oh, come now,” Daoist Feathered Snake said, waving at them to lower their spears. “You can tell at a glance he’s not the type.”

  “Protocol, Sir Feathered Snake,” one of them stuttered.

  “Fine, fine,” Daoist Feathered Snake said. He smiled apologetically. “If you don’t mind, I’ll need to run a simple test.” He took out a set of bronze scales that floated up before him. “Please inject a wisp of your transcendent force here. The device will weigh your merit and sin.”

  Cha Ming’s eyes narrowed. Handing someone a piece of your soul was risky. Given his location and company, however, he had little choice. He obliged and provided a small piece of soul force, and the scales tipped far to the right, the side of merit.

  “See?” Daoist Feathered Snake said. “Heavy merit. We will not have to shoulder blame of welcoming a sinner into our ranks but will receive merit instead.”

  “A positive merit balance is required?” Cha Ming asked curiously.

  “Heavens, no,” Daoist Feathered Snake said. “But if a man’s sins are heavy enough, he’ll be no end of trouble. We would need to kill such a man in advance.” He smiled, then walked toward the door and ignored Cha Ming’s shock. “This way.”

  Cha Ming followed the man out of the circular room with the jade plate. They entered a large hallway that could easily accommodate Huxian in his largest form. “I take it humans aren’t the only ones who arrive here,” he said probingly.

  “The occasional demon slips through the cracks and arrives here instead of other, more suitable places,” Daoist Feathered Snake admitted. “And some of them stubbornly cling to their original forms instead of more efficient demon forms.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t happen often. As you may have guessed, the jade plate is a dimensional anchor. It prevents ascending cultivators from ending up just anywhere. This way, we can control the influx of capable cultivators into our kingdom.”

  “Then this is like an immigration bureau,” Cha Ming said. He was relieved. The plane hadn’t separated them, but rather, the forces on the plane. Once he got his bearings, he would need to find Huxian. The fox was a long way away. So far, in fact, that they could no longer communicate.

  “Of sorts,” Daoist Feathered Snake said. “Every cultivator arriving in our kingdom must have their threat level evaluated. As a cultivator, they will automatically be awarded citizenship. The level of citizenship will be determined by the cultivator’s strength and potential.”

  As they spoke, they entered another large room, this one a few hundred meters wide. At the center of it stood a large copper disc with deep runes etched into the metal. It was connected to three smaller platforms.

  “This is the first test. Please step onto the main platform.”

  Cha Ming did so and stood there with his arms crossed behind his back. “I just need to stand here?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  Many in the same position might be confused and hesitant, but Cha Ming had been observing the green-robed Daoist the entire time. He’d yet to spot a single falsehood in his explanations. The man’s karma was roughly neutral, but Cha Ming had come to realize you couldn’t rely on that. Instead, he observed twitches and tells and the threads of karma that connected him to others.

  “That’s right,” Daoist Feathered Snake said. He walked up to another platform. A holographic projection appeared. He tapped on it in midair, and the runes
on the platform started to glow with white light. The glow encompassed Cha Ming, diving into him, peering into his body, his core, and his soul. The process was quite intrusive. Though Cha Ming could resist them, he chose not to. He was a stranger to these lands, so it was best to follow along with their customs. Also, Daoist Feathered Snake’s threat, though thinly made, did not go unnoticed. They had the authority to destroy cultivators who failed their examination.

  The glow lingered for a few dozen breaths before eventually fading. Runes lit up on the three other platforms. The runes weren’t magical in nature, but they represented language.

  Qi cultivation: Initial Rune Carving.

  Strength equivalent: Early Rune Carving.

  Excess qi stores. Runic pattern unidentified. Prismatic Domain. Cultivation method unidentified. Unable to evaluate potential.

  “Prismatic Domain?” Daoist Feathered Snake asked from his platform. “Would you care to demonstrate?”

  “Of course,” Cha Ming said, stretching out his domain from within his runic core. There was no sense hiding anything the man already saw. A transparent force filled the nearest fifty meters, and the neutral heaven and earth energy there fell completely under his control. He first summoned water, filling the room with rain that transformed to vitality-filled flowers, which caused the land to tremble as they became rocks on the solid floor. The rocks became swords that danced in harmony. They then transformed to tongues of flame, then back into water. He banished the domain after that.

  “Ah,” Daoist Feathered Snake said. “Five-colored core, interchangeable domain. Unusual but not unheard of. Your technique cannot be identified, and your potential is unknown. Any idea why that is?”

  It was a personal question, but Cha Ming saw no way to avoid it.

  “My technique is self-made,” Cha Ming said truthfully. “I based it off a qi-condensation technique and worked my way up. Likely, it’s one of a kind. All the disciples I trained came up with their own variant.”