Kindling, page 20
part #6 of Painting the Mists Series
Shortly after, a long train of students walked out from Mistress Huang’s classroom and into cells in the punishment hall. Hong Xin cast her eyes down as she passed Mistress Huang, who shook her head in disappointment.
“So,” the headmistress said, straightening a pile of papers in front of her. “Manipulating the hearts of over a hundred students, destroying our basis for control. Fooling our teachers countless times. What do you think her punishment should be? And yours, for that matter?”
The teachers in the room shifted uncomfortably. “Headmistress, I believe that we should settle on her punishment first before discussing our own,” Mistress Meng said. “Treachery is a far greater crime than incompetence.”
“That is allowed,” the headmistress said. “Now talk.”
“I believe we should kill Hong Xin publicly in a cruel and unusual way,” Mistress Meng said. “As a warning to others.”
“And admit that a student who’s been here for less than two years almost led a successful rebellion?” Mistress Shan asked sharply. “It’s better to kill her quietly. And we should do the same for the entire upper echelon in their group.”
“But why should we sacrifice the most talented students in our school?” Mistress Ling said. “These students have advanced cultivations and have reached the first layer of the Frozen Heart Realm. By killing them, you’re turning our most successful class into a class of weaklings. We might as well just destroy all our students and start from scratch.”
The fifteen mistresses began shouting and yelling. Only the headmistress and one other stood by and watched the scene unfold. They exchanged a knowing glance before the headmistress exerted her pressure. The bickering teachers quieted down instantly.
“I believe Mistress Huang has a solution. As my successor, and that person’s ex-student, I believe there is no one more qualified on matters of the heart.”
“Many thanks, Headmistress,” Mistress Huang said. “I’d first like to point out the fact that a dual kindling and dousing cultivation can be converted and frozen over.”
“That’s impossible,” Mistress Ling said. “Although we can perform heart kindlings, we’re far weaker than a kindling cultivator in that regard. Both their cultivation and soul have been infused with a powerful resistance to dousing that makes it impossible to completely freeze over.”
“What if I told you it’s possible to convert all of them forcibly?” Mistress Huang said. “In fact, it’s even possible with those who’ve reached the third stage of heart kindling like Hong Xin. It’d be a shame to waste such a great talent. She could cause waves in the greatest empires. She could topple nations in both this realm and the neighboring transcendent realm.”
“And what evidence do you have?” Mistress Ling asked. Mistress Huang smiled before holding out a small mirror. “You’re telling me a heart mirror is enough evidence?”
“Shut up and use it,” Mistress Huang said. Mistress Ling flinched and took the item.
“On whom?” Mistress Ling asked.
“On me,” Mistress Huang said, causing no small amount of discomfort in the room.
Mistress Ling frowned before pouring her resplendent force into the mirror. She gasped when she saw what was inside of it.
“I hereby retract my objection,” Mistress Ling said, passing the mirror to another mistress.
“I retract my objection,” the others said, one after another.
“Please excuse me, as I have a lot of work to do,” Mistress Huang said. Many people began to rise as she left the closed chamber.
“And where do you all think you’re going?” the headmistress said gravely, causing everyone to pause in their tracks. “We still haven’t decided on your punishments. And since none of you are keen on deciding it, I’ll do it myself.”
Everyone shuddered uncontrollably. They closed their eyes as they awaited their fate.
Hong Xin opened her eyes as the door to her cell swung open. She was suspended by her arms on the wall, and the coldness in the collar seeped down to her very bones. “Have they decided how to kill me yet?” she said.
“What do you think?” Mistress Huang replied as she walked in.
“I think they’ll kill me in secret to stop any news from leaking,” Hong Xin said. “More than likely, eight others will die, and the rest will live.”
“An impressive deduction,” Mistress Huang said. “This would likely have been the case. That is, if I didn’t have a better way.”
“What better way?” Hong Xin said warily. She noticed that Mistress Huang had summoned a small black box. The box opened, revealing a set of long black needles.
“I happen to have some experience in permanently dousing kindling cultivations,” Mistress Huang said. “By the time everything is said and done, you’ll be a cold, heartless puppet willing to do our headmistress’s bidding. With your talents, you’ll be able to accomplish many things.”
“It will never work,” Hong Xin said. “You might as well just kill me.”
Mistress Huang ignored her. She took out a long spike and kneeled in front of her until their faces were level. “As much as you’ll hate me, I’m doing this for your own good,” she said.
Hong Xin felt a sharp pain as a black needle entered her chest. She let out a wail of anguish as her hopes and dreams began to dull, and her nightmares resurfaced.
She woke a few hours later to a familiar scene. She was in an inn, and a fat man was busy pulling off his belt. She struggled to activate her fire qi and burn him to a crisp. Unfortunately, it never materialized. Hong Xin looked on in horror as the man in her nightmares approached her. She tried to open her eyes but failed.
Interlude: A Bundle of Joy
“The whole experience is a little nerve-wracking,” Feng Ming said to Prince Lei as they played cards at a small tea table. He threw a king down, even though an ace would have been a better play. He played to lose, which was always interesting because it was harder than playing to win.
“I remember my first time,” Prince Lei said. “I cried afterwards, and my wife asked me whether I was a man or a woman.”
“You’re making this sound like something else entirely,” Feng Ming said. “I just don’t know why it’s so stressful. It shouldn’t be a big deal to me, given that I’m not the one having to go through anything.”
“But your other half is,” Prince Lei said. “And that makes all the difference. Now, come closer and let me show you something.” The prince pulled out a large brown bottle. He popped the cork, and an intoxicating aroma filled the room.
“Immortal’s Brew,” Feng Ming whispered, grabbing the bottle. He sniffed lightly, causing his senses to distort and his balance to go. “They say every bottle is prohibitively expensive, but even the cheapest one could get an immortal drunk.”
“That’s a little exaggerated,” Prince Lei said. “You can get bottles from transcendent realms. Although it’s not cheap, many transcendents drink it because they can’t get drunk otherwise. But it won’t affect immortals. They’d need to drink something far stronger to get inebriated.”
Feng Ming poured them two small glasses, then lifted his to Prince Lei. “To luck,” he said, clinking his glass against the prince’s.
“To luck, indeed,” the prince said. “What are your expectations?”
“That’s a secret,” Feng Ming said. “Though, what I want doesn’t really matter.”
“That’s what always happens with marriage,” Prince Lei said, nodding understandingly. They continued drinking one shot after another, and before long, they fell asleep.
A small cry jerked Feng Ming awake sometime later. Prince Lei was still passed out.
“What a wimp,” Feng Ming muttered as he waited anxiously. Footsteps sounded outside the living room, and an older man soon entered.
“Despicable,” the king said, seeing his passed-out son. He kicked Prince Lei, who immediately tried to fall back asleep. “Wake up for your father!” the king yelled.
Hearing his familiar voice, Prince Lei jolted awake. “I wasn’t asleep, I was just pretending,” Prince Lei said.
“And I suppose you two weren’t drinking, you were just tasting,” the king said disdainfully. “Try it,” he said to the man beside him. The royal uncle grabbed the bottle and took a swig.
“Immortal wine, aged 1,200 years,” the royal uncle said.
“And you kept this from your own father?” the king said, glaring at his son. He immediately grabbed the bottle and took a swig, relaxing visibly. Then he stowed the bottle. “It should be about time.”
At this moment, a beautiful woman clothed in white appeared. Princess Song Guo walked down the stairs with a small crying bundle. She walked up to Feng Ming, who excitedly took the newborn baby from her.
“I’m a father,” Feng Ming whispered, tears moistening his eyes. He briefly remembered his own deceased father. Was this how he felt when he held me for the first time?
The king coughed. Feng Ming ignored him and stared intently at his newborn son, whose eyes were filled with intelligence. “What should we name him?” he said to Song Guo.
The king coughed once more.
“I think we should call him Feng Yong,” Song Guo said, tickling the small child. “In honor of one of our nation’s bravest heroes.”
“A good name,” Feng Ming said, ignoring yet another cough from the king. “And in all fairness, you went through about twelve hours of labor. I think you deserve to name him.”
Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough.
Everyone in the room looked toward the king, who was fuming. “And when am I going to get to hold my grandson?” the king said harshly.
Everyone laughed as Song Guo picked up the child and handed him to the king. The older man made very unroyal faces at the small child, who couldn’t even see him yet.
Then he eyed him carefully. “A good grandson like mine deserves a good name. Let’s name him Feng Yong in honor of one of our nation’s bravest heroes.”
Song Guo rolled her eyes. “As my king commands,” she said. The room echoed her words.
“Now get out of here,” the king said to Prince Lei. “You’re no longer needed now that I have another grandson.”
“But my bottle—” Prince Lei said.
“Bottle?” Song Guo said. “What bottle?”
“Yes, what bottle?” the king said. Everyone swiftly realized that the scent of alcohol was thick in the air.
“We just had a little to drink,” Prince Lei said. “But your father has the bottle now.”
“Oh?” Song Guo said. “What did you all have to drink?” she asked.
“Nothing much,” the king said, pulling out the brown bottle nervously. “But I don’t think you’d like it. It’s definitely not a lady’s drink.”
Song Guo ignored him. She grabbed the bottle, bit off the cork, and quickly downed the contents of the half-filled container. She sighed with satisfaction. “Now that hit the spot,” she said. “I was dying in there. Do you know how painful it is to give birth? Hell, it still hurts.”
Everyone in the room looked at her like they’d seen a monster.
How much can you drink without passing out right away? Prince Lei sent to Feng Ming.
I don’t know, a quarter bottle? Feng Ming sent back. You just can’t judge a woman using common sense. Anyway, you’re lucky she didn’t clock us for drinking while she was in labor.
Fair enough, Prince Lei said. They both looked at the king, whose “we shall never speak of this again” look spoke volumes.
The palace was soon filled with joy and cheer. The king announced a city-wide banquet in honor of the birth of his newest grandson. Everyone, both military and civilian, happily laid down their weapons and tools and toasted in honor of Feng Yong.
In their revelry, they forgot the war that had just ravaged them, the prince who had betrayed them, and the army that was coming for them. They woke the next day rested and brimming with energy, ready to do their all for their homeland.
Chapter 19: Reward
Cha Ming’s eyes opened to a gentle blue glow. He looked around a large room and noticed he was lying in a large bed with blue sheets.
I’m alive, he thought as he inspected his body. Somehow.
His internal injuries had already healed despite the massive strain his body had suffered from the black sphere. It was as though the clash had never happened, and he had been whisked away to this strange room and this strange bed.
“How long have I been unconscious?” he wondered aloud.
“Only three days,” a voice answered. An elderly woman suddenly appeared in his chambers, shocking him. “Relax,” she said, looking at his embarrassment in amusement. “As the custodian for the Bridge of Stars, I’ve seen things that would even make the Jade Emperor blush.”
Cha Ming coughed slightly and summoned a set of blue robes before climbing out of bed. “Thank you for taking the trouble to save me, Custodian,” he said. “What happened to Yu Wen, Huxian, and the others?”
“They are alive and well,” the custodian replied. “They have already accepted their rewards and will be spending two years in seclusion. You will be doing the same.”
Cha Ming let out a sigh of relief. “May I speak to them?”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she said. “Any interruptions will impact their benefits and potentially prevent them from transcending in the future.”
“All right,” Cha Ming said. “How does the reward system work?”
“It’s quite simple,” the custodian said. “As one of those who made it through the main array, you will be assigned ten gathering quotas instead of the normal one quota. Each quota enables you to gather 100 points of herbs or ores.
“Then what can I trade moon stones for aside from the usual herb-gathering and ore-gathering quotas?” he asked. Normally, cultivators traded 100 moon stones for these extra quotas. No one from the Alabaster Group had ever captured as many moon stones as he had.
“With 200,000 moon stones, your selection is quite vast,” the Custodian said, summoning a jade slip.
“I beg your pardon?” Cha Ming said. His jaw slackened as he observed the contents of the slip with his resplendent force.
“Your companions are all quite righteous,” the custodian replied. “They each chose a transcendent treasure and chose to transfer the remainder of their moon stones to you. I’m sure they felt indebted for their unexpected success.”
Cha Ming frowned. “Send their rewards back. I don’t need them.”
“I’m afraid I can’t—they’ve already entered seclusion,” the custodian said. “Anything you don’t use will go to waste.”
Cha Ming rubbed his forehead as he inspected the contents of the jade slip. It contained a comprehensive list of items, including transcendent treasures, alchemy items, formation scrolls, and combat techniques. “You wouldn’t happen to have an item that can heal a soul, would you?”
“I’m afraid not,” the custodian said. “Only the dew of a Burning Samsara Lotus would qualify, but this is something you need to collect yourself using an herb-gathering quota.”
Cha Ming was disappointed but not surprised. “Then are there any items you would recommend?” Cha Ming asked. After all, custodians were an artificial intelligence. Their analytical prowess and powers of deduction were vastly superior to a human being.
“It’s good that you asked instead of choosing rashly,” the custodian said. “Choosing any formation scrolls, combat techniques, or talisman manuals would be a waste for someone who has already gathered the complete Myriad Truths Diagram.”
“Myriad Truths Diagram?” Cha Ming asked.
“Look inside your spiritual sea, and you’ll understand,” the custodian replied.
Confused, Cha Ming directed his attention to his spiritual sea, where his jade-covered soul sat in meditation. He was surprised to discover an eight-colored diagram floating within it. As he tried to inspect it from one side or another, however, he could only ever see two dimensions to it. It curved as he inspected it, forming a perfect sphere despite its two-dimensional appearance. The contents shifted as he looked. From whatever angle he observed, the three origin runic fragments would always be present in the center, surrounded by thirty essence runic fragments. As such, he could only observe the flow fragments relative to these source items.
Surprised, he observed the diagram for a moment before noticing a peculiar part of it. He inspected a small portion and realized that a perfect formation with 120 nodes had formed.
Isn’t that a Fire-Gathering Formation? he thought. Instinctively, he summoned 120 Dao sigils on the outside, easily forming the complex core-formation array. He was surprised to discover that, despite being formed with familiar characters, these characters were naturally formed with runic fragments. His formation now contained the familiar charm of the runic fragments from the Bridge of Stars.
Just as he completed the energy-gathering formation, many runes wandered from other pieces in the mystical diagram and formed a ring on the outside of it. A total of 120 nodes added on, forming the lesser energy-gathering array. Overjoyed, he completed this formation in the outside world. Immediately after forming it, the diagram in his mind expanded to a mid-grade array.
“My apologies, but time is of the essence,” the custodian suddenly said, interrupting his experiments. “While you might find it all right to doze off for a week, your rewards will be impacted if you wait for too long.”
“One week?” Cha Ming said, shocked. “If I’m not mistaken, the Myriad Truths Diagram is able to help me comprehend runic arts and techniques?”
“Much more than that,” the custodian said. “It can be said that every possible formation, runic art, or runic technique is reflected in the diagram. By meditating on it, you’ll be able to gain enlightenment on these truths. This is all possible because you first mastered the basics of runic fragments, or runic radicals as we call them, and the Bridge of Stars aided you in condensing the Myriad Truths Diagram as a reward. For these same reasons, the rune-carving enlightenment reward is also a waste of moon stones for you. You’ll be able to complete basic-grade rune carving without a doubt, assuming you fix your cracked core.”
