PtM Book 14 - Chapter 33: Obsession

I think that's 4/5 this week?

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The situation in Desert’s Blessing returned to the status quo. It was a false alarm, and nothing overtly bad had happened. Everyone was allowed to go back to what’d they’d been doing earlier, with zero additional restrictions.

The Churches of Jezeriah and Harid Dej relaxed, as did the burgeoning demon factions. Light probing battles ensued to determine if anything substantial had changed, blood was spilled, and everything eased up again.

Cha Ming created a batch of talismans over the course of three days, mostly because of the lack of lesser ingredients. He made a point of requesting seeds or sapplings for said ingredients and grew a small plot in the Clear Sky World. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of Core Painting Talismans, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

Frozen Thorn was back in his office again. His eyes were no longer bloodshot, and it looked like he’d gotten a decent amount of sleep. “Come in,” Frozen Thorn said, waving him inside. “Have a seat.”

Cha Ming closed the door behind him but chose to stand. “I came to let you know I was leaving for Signstone. There’s no sense staying here, and I have other important things to take care of. Did you get a chance to review the information and test the products I brought from Titanvale?”

“Titanvale?” Frozen Thorn asked, confused. “Ah, right. Apologies. Yes. We’ve already looked the arrows over and have sent a small party to negotiate with them. Though I don’t see the point since you can supply us with talismans…”

Cha Ming shook his head. “I’m only a single craftsman, Frozen Thorn, and making them takes up far too much of my time. Besides, they’re capable of producing these in much larger quantities, and arrows are easier to utilize. They might be more expensive through them, but the larger quantities would mean you wouldn’t have to be so reserved in using them.”

“If that’s the case, I can only hope they don’t gouge us too badly,” Frozen Thorn said. “Either way, we’ll need to be careful with their usage. There’s no sense throwing money away. And besides, it’s better to get what you want without fighting in the first place, and weapons are best used as deterrents.”

Cha Ming summoned a wad of talismans and placed them on the desk. “What are your plans once you obtain more information?”

“Reintegration and testing out the waters,” Frozen Thorn said. “You and I both know that the reception of Painted Daoists is the key to success with this project. That was so even before we knew they were capable of growth.”

“I’m hoping you can hide my involvement in this project, if at all possible,” Cha Ming said. “I’d hate to have such a large target painted on my back.”

Frozen Thorn seemed to have expected this request. “Our current plan is to re-integrate them slowly Everyone involved will have their memories altered; it’s not a perfect solution, but it can hide the truth for a time. The narrative will be that due to our desperate situation, we purchased a talisman formula from the Greenwind Pavilion to improve the strength of our mortals.”

“That might work for some, but not others,” Cha Ming said. He could see faint threads of karma tying him and the Painted Daoists despite Frozen Thorn having hidden them away. “What’s the name of this ancient talisman? How will you ensure the Greenwind Pavilion doesn’t sell us out?”

“We’re calling it the Nine Lives Sacrificial Core Activation talisman,” Frozen Thorn said. “With your permission, we’d like to sell the crafting method for these talismans to them, then buy it back.”

Cha Ming frowned. “I can’t allow that to happen. It would give them too much control, and then there would be no stopping this talisman’s spread if we choose to restrict it.”

Frozen Thorn grimaced. “Then we can only rely on rumors and pay the Greenwind Pavilion to sell the lie. By the time it’s discovered, it will be too late. Since the Daoist population is too small, and we aren’t forcefully converting people, I believe they won’t want to fight it out too much. The demons will especially be pleased by this development, so I intend on approaching them for support.”

It sounded simple, in theory, but Cha Ming knew it wouldn’t be. He personally hadn’t encountered many problems imbuing cultivation talent into non-cultivators on the Ling Nan Plane, but Wang Jun had. The only reason everything had eventually gone through was because of the external threat of Southern Alliance’s devilish forces and the decades of propaganda in the Quicksilver Empire.

Cha Ming sighed. “I’m going to be honest, Frozen Thorn. Half of me wants to shelve this project and never speak of it again.”

Frozen Thorn nodded. “I understand your concern, but I believe it is worth the risk. We did not have hope before. Now we do.” With words like those, Cha Ming could only hope his fears were groundless.

“I can only wish you all the best then,” Cha Ming said. “I’ll be off to Signstone City to check up on my student. If you need me, send a message or come find me directly.”

“Have a cup of tea before you leave,” Frozen Thorn said.

“Now you’re just getting lazy,” Cha Ming said, glancing at the label on the ‘tea box’. It was clearly just aphrodisiac, and he wasn’t even hiding it.

“I see that you’re finally firmly refusing and not even slightly considering it,” Frozen Thorn said. “Judging by your slightly angry and indignant expression, and your sudden shift in mood, I can only assume your relationship with Daoist Misty Sea has solidified, and I will stop any attempts forthwith.”

***

Two teleportation jumps and a short journey on the Starry Road Network later, Cha Ming appeared in Signstone City. The place was much different than he remembered, predominantly because of the huge army camp that was now appended to the city.

The usual location for the Runebound Clan’s morning practice had been displaced to a different location, and the old location was now used for the army’s morning drills. The drills were varied, but Cha Ming noted that they included many varieties of demonic tactics and mixed drills with humans. The Asherall Republic’s general did not look happy about this in the slightest, but he could only play along.

In other words, things were going well on the surface.

Cha Ming did not see Drezil or any of the inkborn taking part. Merenthal was the chief commanding officer, so he was naturally a participant. Aaron Shacklebolt, the human strategist, was also there, but Bloodfur was nowhere to be seen.

The army had grown fivefold since their skirmish on the border, and that included the total number of fusion realm powerhouses at Merenthal’s disposal. Cha Ming knew that more forces were stationed elsewhere, and could be mobilized in case the foreign invasion intensified.

They’re much better integrated than last time, Cha Ming noted. They’re using formations and combining complementary units, though for some reason, they’re still keeping humans and demons fairly separate, despite the mixed drills. He wondered if there were political reasons for this and couldn’t help but remember a recent conversation with Clever Dusk, and Aaron Shacklebolt’s own speculations months earlier.

He spotted the hateful form of Sedrannah, whose following in the Runebound Clan seemed to have grown. He could tell because of the growth in her karmic web and Merenthal’s corresponding reduction.

“I never knew you could make incarnations,” Cha Ming said, turning to a patch of sand.

A light laughing sound ensued as none other than Merenthal popped out of the ground.

“I can’t do this outside my fused territory, or very far from my main body, but the ability has it’s advantages,” Merenthal said. “For example, I’m currently overseeing morning practice while also going over strategy. I am speaking with you without letting Sedrannah know about my scheming.”

“I see that she’s been making progress,” Cha Ming said.

Merenthal raised his hands helplessly. “Your student is stubborn and refuses to act, and my hands are tied by tradition.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Cha Ming said. “But no promises. How is the eastern front?”

“Quiet,” Merenthal said. “Too quiet. There’s the occasional probe or skirmish, but nothing major. Like I told you earlier, Oster Fireblight claimed a few rich territories, then began consolidating his position and building a few mines. It’s frustrating to give up land, but it’s given us some time to set up our own defensive perimeter.”

“What’s Aaron’s take?” Cha Ming asked.

“That Oster is not only digging in but harvesting resources so he can recruit more gold rankers,” Merenthal said. “He loathes spending his initial investment if it can be avoided. Also, it is said that he’s awaiting reinforcements from Fendal before going any further.”

“That sounds very troublesome,” Cha Ming said. “Fendal is a big country.”

Merenthal shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time our Fusion Realm elders are grossly outnumbered.”

Cha Ming scratched his chin. “How is your stock of God-Slaying Talismans?”

“Completely exhausted,” Merenthal said. “We traded them for a few gold rankers, and Oster stopped his advance. That being said, they lost much of their use after the initial surprise attack. Their power is far too low compared to our needs.”

“I improved the design since then, so they’re a step stronger,” Cha Ming said. “It wouldn’t be a problem damaging initial gold rankers. For peak investiture realm demons, one or two talismans should be more than enough to close the gap with a run of the mill gold ranker. I just finished up a few other matters, and I have a feeling I’ll be staying in Signstone for a short while; I could make you a few dozen sets if you’re interested.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Merenthal said, relaxing somewhat. “How much?”

“I can make about twenty-five per week if there’s nothing else keeping me busy,” Cha Ming said. “A hundred and fifty high-grade inkwell jades each.” He adjusted his price to keep in line with the Titan Clan.

“I feel you’re gouging me, but it’s not my money. Fine.” That was war. Money changed hands everywhere you looked, and people came and went. In the end, you looked at what was left and wondered what happened.

“I realize that won’t do much for your current situation, but I’ve found a solution,” Cha Ming said. “The Titan Clan in Titanvale and are cooperating on it. They’ve developed something called God-Slaying Arrows based on the design of my talismans. They’re a bit pricier, but they have their advantages, namely quantity and range.”

“I’ll have to speak with Clever Dusk about it,” Merenthal said.

“Be sure to mention my name if you do contact them,” Cha Ming said. “I get a commission.” Merenthal was dumbstruck. “By the way, I noticed youkeeping humans and demons separate in your training exercises. I take it there are reasons for that?” In his experience, their fighting styles were complimentary.

“It’s a mixture of politics and risk mitigation,” Merenthal said.

“Clever Dusk’s suggestion?” Cha Ming asked.

“Shacklebolt’s,” Merenthal said. “He said there are a few political undercurrents that have him worried, so he’s planning for contingencies.”

They left Signstone City for the signstone quarries. Mining activities had been ramping up ever since it was discovered that the ore was a strategic military resource. If they couldn’t defend the mind, their enemies would gain it, so it was best to excavate and store what they could.

“Drezil aside, how have the inkborn been?” Cha Ming asked.

“Not very helpful,” Merenthal said. “They don’t really do anything unless Drezil tells them.

“Unfortunate,” Cha Ming said. “That means you’ve been relying on Sedrannah and her priestesses more and more.”

“If Drezil doesn’t snap out of it soon, there will be no stopping her,” Merenthal said. “The clan needs a high priestess, and while she’s not Shakkanah, she’s something.”

It was the way of the world. A ship needed a captain. Merenthal was doing what he could, and he was a good leader, but culturally, he was unqualified. Technically, Cha Ming was more qualified for the position despite being human, but that would open a whole new can of worms.

“So you’ll be staying here then? In their warehouse?” Merenthal asked.

“I’ll have to if I want to keep an eye on them,” Cha Ming said. “Since Drezil’s not up to the task, I don’t mind taking on a few students. I just hope they haven’t grown too soft in Shakkanah’s absence.”

“Our clan has never been afraid of hard work,” Merenthal said. “Push them as hard as you like. They won’t break. Or at least, most of them won’t.”

“You can expect them to attend the next morning practice,” Cha Ming said. “I’ll come see you soon to coordinate.”

Merenthal inclined his head. “May the Great Divine guide you, Majana.”

“And you as well,” Cha Ming answered.

***

The first thing Cha Ming noticed upon entering the warehouse was the sheer number of carvings that were now stacked up inside it. As uncooperative as they were with Merenthal, the inkborn had clearly not slacked off; shelves now filled over half the available space from floor to sealing in carvings that were growing uncomfortably realistic.

He had expected to see despondent inkborn but was pleased to discover them working merrily in a dust-free space, scratching away at layers of stone with their bare claws.

What he did not expect was that their work would resonate with the Inkwell Plane. Every cut, scratch mark, and chip was done in harmony with the world. The stone came alive as they worked. Sometimes moving when a posture wasn’t suitable, and sometimes to shift a piece of metal. When the inkborn spoke, the stone listened. Hours were saved, and the impossible was made possible.

The inkborn had not spotted Cha Ming; they were too distracted by their work. Seeing as they were being productive, he decided not to bother them and instead proceeded through the half-open door that led to Drezil’s personal warehouse space.

Whereas the room before was merely half-full of expertly carved statues, this room was genuinely packed. Every statue was built of pure signstone, was the size of a demonic horse, and was separated by less than a half foot of space in all three dimensions.

Each statue was unique. Many had wings, and others had hooves or claws. A few were even invertebrates like sand wurms, and their entire bodies were covered in hook-like appendages.

The other inkborn had created a small army of expert carvings. Drezil had somehow churned out a full battalion of masterworks.

As for the man himself, he was kneeling in the center of the room, filthy, and covered in dust, inspecting a familiar carving made of unusual stone that was only three-quarters finished.

Even lacking details, Cha Ming could see that this carving would far exceed the others. This was a masterwork among masterworks. A peerless carving. What few details had been carved into it were already coming alive, giving Cha Ming the distinct impression that when it was finished, it would truly live.

Drezil was still a hard worker. He always had been. It was only that in Cha Ming’s absence, he’d stopped caring about anything other than carving. The dust in the room was three inches thick, and Drezil had grown paler and thinner.

“Drezil,” Cha Ming said, walking up behind him. His student jumped in surprise and looked over, blinking in confusion.

“T – Teacher?” Drezil said uncertainly.

Cha Ming sighed. “You call me teacher, yet you’ve been slacking off.”

“I haven’t!” Drezil said. “I’ve been working! Quite hard actually?”

“True,” Cha Ming said, looking around at the army of statues. “But didn’t I say you needed rest? Didn’t I say you needed to involve yourself more with the matters of your clan? Looking around, I doubt you found much time to practice formations either.”

“I practiced,” Drezil said, picking himself up unsteadily. “I practiced every day.”

“Fine,” Cha Ming said. “Show me.”

Drezil immediately began pouring energy into his surroundings according to familiar practice patterns.

“Failure,” Cha Ming said after the first few seconds. “Next.” Drezil switched up the pattern, but it was equally dull and lifeless, lacking in the familiar golden coloring he’d grown used to seeing. “Next.” They repeated the process six more times, and every one of them was a failure.

Cha Ming sighed once more. Things were even worse than he’d thought. Three months of seclusion had completely destroyed the young student.

He flicked his sleeve and spoke the command word, “Assemble”, urging the signstone dust in the room to come together as large chairs and a table. “Mend,” he spoke, and the precariously assembled dust and stone began to merge together. Cracks disappeared to produce pieces of whole stone.

Drezil sat uncomfortably in his chair, and Cha Ming said nothing for a time. Instead, he took out special tea set and began brewing tea. As it steeped, he summoned a small, bottled flame from the Clear Sky World. It was white, with specks of gold. The living flame did not require fuel, but instead expended itself as it heated the tea inside the pot.

It took five minutes for the white and gold flame to completely infuse itself into the liquid, after which Cha Ming poured Drezil a full cup of it. “Drink,” Cha Ming instructed, and Drezil did so. His mind drifted away on the wings of inspiration. Cha Ming had experienced this feeling before, so he knew what to expect.

Drezil mechanically drank the contents of his cup little by little, and Cha Ming refilled it again and again. Only when the last of the tea was gone did he stop and leave Drezil to his epiphany.

One hour. Two hours. Three hours passed. This wasn’t much time in the material world, but spiritually, it was an eternity.

Nine hours later, Drezil woke from his stupor. His glazed eyes had regained some focus. “I know how to finish my carving,” he said hoarsely. He moved to get back to work, but Cha Ming pressed him back down into his seat using his world projection.

“Sit,” Cha Ming said. Drezil gulped and did as he was told. “How did you like the tea?”

“It was what I needed,” Drezil replied.

“The tea has limited supply,” Cha Ming explained. “It requires a specific type of living flame, and the flames are difficult to store. I asked Graceful Twilight to make them for me just before setting out. She’s still quite upset at you for not contacting her, by the way, but she did it for me as a favor. By making this tea, she’s given up a week of her own time, time that has become extremely valuable. Do. Not. Waste it.”

“I…” Drezil started, but Cha Ming cut him off.

“I know what you want to say,” Cha Ming said. “I also know that you’re obsessed, and probably for good reasons. That being said, you can’t do this forever. Verdant Crossroads is under attack, and your tribe is getting swallowed up by a greedy priestess with unhealthy ambitions. If it were only so bad, you would have been fine. You were gifted helpers to ease you through the situation in the form of the other inkborn. Unfortunately, you wasted them, and your behavior has inspired them to make their own carvings, which are completely useless to Merenthal, the war situation, and your tribe. Oh, and there’s an army outside the door.”

“They’re not useless!” Drezil snapped. Then, realizing Cha Ming was his teacher, he immediately apologized. “I was disrespectful. It won’t happen again. Just… tell me. Did Merenthal put you up to this?”

“Merenthal?” Cha Ming asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, as the commander of the defense force in the east, an inkborn who’s done his all to improve himself for the defense of his people, he did ask me to intervene. After all, not only are you and the rest of the inkborn not contributing to the war effort, you’re actually wasting a large amount of precious signstone, a strategic war resource.”

“They’re not wasting anything,” Drezil said.

“Until they’re useful, they’re a waste,” Cha Ming said. “Merenthal would actually be overjoyed if you proved him otherwise.” Drezil averted his gaze, and Cha Ming softened his tone. “I know I’m being harsh, but Verdant Crossroads needs you. Your clan needs you. You’re also running out of time, because eventually, the enemy general will move in the direction of these quarries. They are very valuable, and he is very greedy.

Every word cut at Drezil’s heart. “I know. I know.But I just can’t stop. This is worth it, Teacher. I know it is!”

“Then prove it,” Cha Ming said. “I know what it’s like to obsessed, to devote myself singleheartedly to a project. That’s why I know I can’t stop you. That’s why I asked Graceful Twilight for this favor. That’s why I’m going to do my best to stall for time. But I can only stall, not fix things. Only you can do that. I also have other commitments, so when I leave, there’s no telling when I’m coming back.” His eyes flickered to the incomplete statue. “Just finish the damned statue, Drezil. Focus on it wholeheartedly. I will work with the other inkborn to churn out formations and keep Merenthal off your back. I will stay as long as I can, and while I’m here, that viper of a priestess won’t be able to distract you. Once I leave, however… you’re on your own.”

Cha Ming looked around at the filthy room. He’d cleaned up much of the dust, but there was still a thin film. Use used his domain to wash the area with inky rain, then separated the resulting slurry to form solid signstone disks via Assembly and Mending.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Cha Ming said. “You don’t have all day. You think you can change the world by carving? Fine. Get carving.” Drezil scrambled back towards the incomplete statue, and Cha Ming left the room, closing the door behind him.

The other inkborn had clearly noticed him by now and were waiting just outside the door. “Majana, we overheard what you said,” one of them said. “How can we assist you?”

“Drezil is busy, so we’ll be working on a project,” Cha Ming said. “Your carvings are wonderful. Masterpieces. They could probably fetch a fortune. Unfortunately, they’re not useful as they are, and Merenthal is worried about the enemy launching their next offensive.

“You might not be able to make complete formation plates, but I know you can get them most of the way there. I’m going to teach you a few more formation plate templates, which we’ll send to the priestesses for completion. Is that something you can do for me?”

“Of course!” one of them said, a female runebound clansmen with markings that resembled black flames on her arms. Firienna was her name. “We have a lot of signstone, but these larger blocks are a little unsuitable for use.”

“Start with these Firienna,” Cha Ming said, placing the freshly pressed blocks he’d just recycled on the table. “If I recall correctly, there are large piles of signstone dust in the quarries. Can someone take me to them?”

“I can,” said a broad-shouldered man. His bindings wrapped around his torso and arms like black chains. His name was Banda.

“Thank you, Banda,” Cha Ming said. “The rest of you, please get to work according to these instructions.” He flicked a finger and sent a stream of spiritual energy straight into their foreheads. “Merenthal and the rest of the clan need your help. Drezil also needs time. We’re going to do both, so if anyone has any issues with that, speak now.”

They got to work, and Banda led Cha Ming out of the warehouse. They soon arrived at a small mountain of dust. “I’m not sure why Teacher is looking for signstone dust, but here it is. We accumulate it until we have large amounts before selling it in bulk since it’s not very valuable.”

“How does the value compare to Signstone?” Cha Ming asked.

“It’s roughly one thousandth as valuable,” Banda answered. “The dust is typically used as an additive or to trace lesser and more temporary formation circles.”

“Good,” Cha Ming said. “That means I don’t need to ask for permission.” He raised his hand and spoke two words. “Assemble.” The dust began to form standard-shape discs that could be carved and imbued with formations. “Mend.”

Banda’s jaw dropped as the brittle cakes of assembled dust fused together. As for Cha Ming, he tossed the freshly pressed formation discs to him. The inkborn demon flicked the disk and evaluated it. “No flaws,” Banda said in amazement. “Not a single one.”

“Can you work with this?” Cha Ming asked.

“Absolutely!” Banda said.

“Good,” Cha Ming replied. He repeated the process and created a large stack of discs before turning back to Banda. “I exhausted my soul force and qi just now and need to recover. Take these discs back to your brethren and get to work. By the time you get back, I’ll have pressed together another batch. Actually, just get Merenthal to send down a runner to do this, then get to work with the others. Understood?”

“Yes, Majana!” Banda said. He bowed rushed off in a sprint. Only when he was a good distance off did Cha Ming sit down dizzily.

In the Clear Sky World, eight of his incarnations were working furiously to recover their soul force with soul gathering incense while Cha Ming’s creation domain sucked in energy form the outside world. Not only was his soul force exhausted, but also his creation qi, which he would need to recondense with the power of the five elements before continuing.

What Cha Ming was doing was practically unheard of. It was the closest he’d coming to creating something from nothing. Or at least, the closest he’d gotten to creating something valuable from nothing.

And he had to admit that felt good. Very good.