PtM Book 14 - Chapter 30: Accumulation

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Despite the fact that he was human and his relatively unknown identity in the Shanara Mountain Range, Cha Ming held high authority in the fledgling demon kingdom. It therefore took no time at all for Huxian’s minion Silverwhisk to find Cha Ming secluded patch of mountain near a spirit spring, where Cha Ming proceeded to carve himself out a cave dwelling using the Clear Sky Carving Knife.

The cave dwelling was less an actual residence and more a cover. He only carved out the smallest of dwellings before setting up a barrier-style formation with a built-in alarm that anyone below early rune gathering would be hard-pressed getting through.

Once finished, he proceeded to leaving it and entering the Clear Sky World. Only there did he feel safe. Only there did he feel at peace.

“Merge,” Cha Ming said the moment he entered the realm. All nine of his current incarnations snapped together, thereby freeing up the strain on his mind and spirit. He then teleported himself to a secluded meditation room inside the cabin within Jade Moon Garden.

Cha Ming did not immediately begin cultivating. He instead laid out tools he’d recently purchased in the many shops bordering Shanara’s teleportation hub. These included an incense burner, complete with a supply of soul healing incense, and a small pagoda he’d been told would help calm the mind and sooth the spirit.

The incense burner came in the shape of a hundred-and-eight petalled lotus flower. It was made of treated obsidian and covered in tiny golden Buddhist runes. The soul healing incense was a mixture of sandalwood aged over a thousand years and a proprietary blend of soul-soothing alchemical reagents.

He lit up a small stick of the incense and let the fragrant smoke waft towards him. The incense burner’s enchantments guided the incense towards his soul, where it began mend the considerable damage he’d suffered from activating both stages of Seventy-Two Transformations and maintaining them, despite having had his soul ravaged by a succubus.

Slowly but surely, his soul began to heal. He had no way of speeding up the process further. Soul damage was tricky, and time was the best remedy.

This was no reason to stop cultivating, however, so Cha Ming was able to slowly grind away at the large amount of qi he required to break through to the next stage of rune gathering.

Like this, two full time-accelerated weeks passed. The soul healing incense no longer had any effect, and his soul stopped mending naturally. By all accounts, it was a fully recovery, but Cha Ming couldn’t help but feel something was off.

He popped his soul outside his body to inspect it. It was a mirror image of his physical self. It was not scarred in any way, as he had removed all Dao scars and was perfectly serviceable. Still, he couldn’t feel that it was less than it had been before the encounter. He couldn’t describe how. It was simply lacking.

Cha Ming had done a bit of research into common techniques in the past few years. Limit break techniques were one of the things he’d studied. They came many forms, namely blood essence burning, potential burning, cultivation sacrificing, and soul burning. The first type of limit break, blood essence burning, was most used by demons and demigods. As its name suggested, it burned away valuable demonic essence blood or divine blood, which would be difficult to recover in the short term and could cause one’s cultivation to regress if overused.

Potential burning was typically done via medicinal pills. The alchemical reagents would artificially overdraft one’s body and core. This would destabilize and sometimes completely destroy one’s foundations, making future advancements either difficult or impossible.

Cultivation sacrifice was a stronger variant of potential burning, in which a piece of one’s cultivation was also used as temporary fuel for the limit break. The backlash for using such techniques was harsh, the least being cultivation regression and no chance at advancement, and the worst being death or crippling. This method was used as a last reserve.

Due to the terrible side effects of other methods, most cultivators relied on blood essence burning and soul burning. Both were known to have long-term, undesirable effects, but could be useful in controlled situations. Over-burning blood essence could thin one’s bloodline, which, for any demi-god or demon, was the same as burning away one’s potential. Such a thing was not done lightly.

Soul burning, on the other hand, would affect someone’s comprehension if overdone, which would limit a qi cultivator’s ability to advance. There was also the risk of destabilizing one’s soul, thereby rendering one insane, or possibly even dissipating said soul and limiting one’s ability to reincarnate. The extent of these effects depended on the quality of the technique in question, and a single soul burn was common. Cha Ming’s dual soul burn technique came with massive benefits and massive risks.

“I can’t use this technique anymore unless absolutely necessary,” Cha Ming decided. It had taken him much longer to recover this time. Instead, he needed to use consumables as insurance. Things like God-Slaying Talismans or strength boosting pills.

Actual strength was naturally the best form of insurance, so Cha Ming did not immediately end his seclusion following his recover. Instead, he decided to consolidate his gains from his battle with the infernalist leader.

Danger came hand in hand with opportunity. To escape the infernalist leader’s death grip, he’d forcibly broken apart his body, converted it to pure lightning energy, then reverted it back into his original human form. This was all possible thanks to his accumulations of lesser concepts, which, under pressure, had crystalized into an embryonic form, thereby allowing him to execute the dangerous maneuver.

These embryonic concepts were still a bit haphazard and required solidifying. They were two complimentary concepts that functioned similarly to his two sets of creation and destruction runes.

Cha Ming had already condensed four runes, so he expected the process to take no time at all. The opposite proved true. The two concepts in question took the form of a black mass and a white mass. The black mass was formed of jagged runes that resembled an exploding piece of warped metal, while the white mass looked like an inverted version of the first, white strands that converged on a single point.

Condensing a concept into rune form did not require any cultivation accumulation; comprehension was the only requirement. He took his time, reconciling these two concepts with the runic matrix in his spiritual sea, as well as the four other runes he’d condensed and infused with immortal energy. Not only did he need to properly link the sub-concepts involved, but he also needed to minimalize redundancy in case this rune conflicted with his other runes. This last part was what took the longest.

The process took twenty days inside the Clear Sky World. In the end, he was rewarded with two runes, one black and one white, each a shadow compared to the other four runes he’d condensed. The white rune reflected the Concept of Accumulation and the black rune the Concept of Eruption. The Concept of Accumulation embodied the laws involved in binding energy into its various forms, including but not limited to matter. The Concept of Eruption embodied the violent release of bound energy.

Forming these shadowy concept runes had many benefits. For one, Cha Ming was immediately able to glean insights into his energy-based transformations of fire and lightning. Seemingly overnight, his skill in forming runes increased by leaps and bounds. This applied to not only to formations, but talismans, runic alchemy, and even manipulating the bindings on his skin.

He also noticed that his techniques no longer required as much time to execute. Forming talismans mid-battle was now easier. The greatest beneficiary of this breakthrough was his slowest technique, Descent of the Five Sovereigns, whose activation time shrunk from a whole three seconds to two seconds, which was still too slow for his liking, but much more palatable.

His cultivation speed also increased, since cultivation was, at its core, the process of accumulating energy. He was quite happy about this development, since his rich qi in multiple elements meant that he needed ten times as much accumulation as anyone else to break through to the next realm.

In brief, Cha Ming was quite satisfied by these new concepts. They were both practical and had long term benefits. He did not end his seclusion immediately, however, but took the opportunity to consolidate the second breakthrough he’d experienced when fighting the infernalist leader, the one involving his bindings. By holding down a much more powerful opponent in the face of certain death, Cha Ming’s mastery of Runebound Constriction had broken through to mastery, thereby qualifying him to break through to the next level of the muscle empowering realm.

Body cultivation required vast quantities of resources, but fortunately, he had more than enough stored up from pillaging the Heaven Worshiping Platform in the ruins of Kerava. He used the Clear Sky Brush to first liquify a large batch of Sacred Sand and repainted his bindings, deepening them and enhancing their effects.

The runes on Cha Ming’s body darkened from a light crystal gold coloring to a darker gold color. The injection of power radiated through his muscles, modifying their structure. The residual energy poured into his inner universe, strengthening it.

Thousands of planes were born in an instant, all in the outer fringes of his tiered inner world. The appearance of these new worlds elevated the others, but also caused great chaos. Cha Ming discovered that his inner world was in need of immediate reorganization, so he could only extend his seclusion.

The initial process of darkening his bindings and breaking through took a full twenty days. It was a small amount of time compared to what was needed to stabilize his gains. This trend would continue – each breakthrough would require increasing amounts of accumulation and stabilization, to the point that some cultivators could go hundreds of years without experiencing one.

He spent a hundred days consolidating his gains and reorganizing his inner world, which had grown tremendously thanks to his breakthrough. Only then was he fully satisfied at the stability of his inner world, and therefore the fate of its residents.

Cha Ming let out a relaxed groan as he stepped out of his cave abode in the Shanara Mountain Range. Moments after leaving, he was greeted by a gray blur of teleportation and a black-haired youngster.

“Long time no see, Huxian,” Cha Ming greeted.

“It’s been ages,” Huxian agreed. “Nice. Late muscle-empowering.”

“I’m quite happy with the improvement,” Cha Ming agreed. “Perhaps now I’ll be able to hold my own against some weaker gold rankers without breaking my limit.”

“Oh please,” Huxian said, rolling his eyes. “You and I both know you’re just going to mess with stronger opponents.”

Cha Ming sighed. “That does seem to be how these things work, doesn’t it? How are you, by the way? I heard from your friends that you were off adventuring in the void. I didn’t really think such a lengthy trip was possible at our level.”

“Yeah, it normally isn’t,” Huxian said. “I try not to make a big deal of it.”

Cha Ming chuckled. “Are you free for a meal?”

“Afraid not,” Huxian said. “It’s off to work again. I hired some mercenaries, so I have more portals to build. Actually, I need to fix a few that the Collegium destroyed before I build anything else.”

“They’re still at it, aren’t they?” Cha Ming said. “Would you like me to lend you a hand?”

“Naw,” Huxian said., waving him off.

“You can’t keep refusing a brother like this,” Cha Ming said. “You’re treating me like an outsider.”

“It’s not that,” Huxian grumbled. “I actually want your help, but I can’t use it. Not yet.” He summoned a small sleek boat made of a black and gray material. Cha Ming could feel a familiar space-related energy running throughout the ship’s framework, and his guessed were validated once they hopped on and it practically tore through space to get to the teleportation hub.

“Nice ship,” Cha Ming said. “You selling?”

“Can you even afford one?” Huxian asked. “I’m running a business, not a charity.”

Cha Ming rubbed his nose. “Maybe later.”

“It’s not that I want to keep you out of the loop, but that I don’t want you in it quite yet,” Huxian reassured him. “You’re one of my trump cards, Cha Ming. Usually, it’s me who pops in to save the day. This time, its your turn.”

“I can get behind that,” Cha Ming said. He’d always felt like he was mooching on Huxian. “So that means you’re hiding my abilities from the Collegium. They have to suspect something.”

“But if you never do anything, you’re an unknown quantity,” Huxian said. “Besides, you’re busy with other things, so it all works out. When I need your help, we need to make it count.”

“Fine,” Cha Ming said. “I guess I’ll just go to Desert’s Blessing then. Make some talismans. Cultivate. Stock up.”

“By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have any more of those void piercing blast fruits, would you?” Huxian said.

“Only a few dozen,” Cha Ming said. Huxian’s ears drooped. “But I snagged a few live trees, and they’re growing well. I should have a pretty steady supply, though I need them to make God Slaying Talismans for now. What do you need them for?”

“I need some resources to pay a bunch of void specters I hired,” Huxian said. “They like void related materials that grow in the material realms.”

“Give me a minute,” Cha Ming said. He cast his perception into Jade Moon Garden and took stock of the many spiritual plants that were now growing there. “I can’t spare blast fruit, but what about void ripping peaches and spatial tempering wood?”

Huxian’s ears perked up. “You have a source?”

“Don’t insult me,” Cha Ming said. “I have a steady supply. I have an orchard. How much do you need?” A bit of back and forth was all they needed to figure out a suitable amount. As for the compensation…. “I want that void ship.”

“Dammit Cha Ming,” Huxian said. “Those are hard to get.”

“And they’re very useful,” Cha Ming said. “I might be able to survive for a short time in the void with your help, but what if you can’t spare it? What if I to carry someone else?”

Huxian raised a finger, then put it down. “Good point,” he grumbled and handed over a miniature ship. “It’s not like I needed it anyway.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put your show-boat to good use,” Cha Ming said. He eyed the glowing teleportation formations and looked up at a flashing board. Desert’s blessing was coming up next. He handed Huxian a storage ring. “Here’s the first batch of materials. I’ll send them to you in one-week intervals. Deal?”

“Deal,” Huxian said.

And with that, they parted ways once again. Cha Ming teleported to the desert, and Huxian entered the not-so-empty void. This time, he had an army, however, so Cha Ming was less worried.

***

Two months followed were an exercise in monotony and routine. It was not just Cha Ming who thought so, but those observing him curiously from the shadows. His routine was only mildly interesting, as he wasn’t up to much, but that only made people more curious when the realized how many talismans he was producing at the same time.

Cha Ming developed a following.

Every day, he got up an hour before sunrise. He had a light breakfast and went to the Frost Lotus Sect’s practice hall. There, he proceeded to practice a strange martial art with unceasing vigor for two hours, after which he started shadow boxing with an extremely realistic illusion.

After practicing, Cha Ming would return to his quarters to meditate, after which he would prepare his own lunch in the Frost Lotus Sect’s communal kitchens. He was quite popular in the kitchens, because he was very interested in all sorts of cooking, despite his strange eating habits, and did not hesitate to experiment with dangerous things like alchemical ingredients.

Cha Ming spent his afternoons either chatting with Daoist Three Lives, making light banter with Sect Master Frozen Thorn, and catching up with old acquaintances like Daoist Frozen Rain and Elder Glacial Blade. When these people were busy, he would pick a quiet spot in the sect’s communal garden and set up an Angels and Devils board and await a challenger. This usually ended up being one of the older men who shared similar interests. Over half the time, he lost.

Only after dinner did Cha Ming return to his quarters and presumably work. This illusion only persisted for about two weeks before getting shattered by some adventurous Daoists, who were eager to see the master hard at work, that forced their way into his small apartment… only to find Cha Ming painting with regular ink on a regular canvas.

This lazy schedule naturally did not impact Cha Ming’s productivity in the slightest; he handed in twenty-five God Slaying Talismans at the end of the first week and continued to do so without interruption.

This naturally spurred an even greater number of curious Daoists, who realized they were clearly missing something, since there was no way anyone could be that productive while being so lazy.

They had numerous questions: When did he cultivate? Had he given up on advancing altogether? When exactly did he craft his talismans? The only way to figure this out was to shadow him relentlessly.

The first wave of investigators appeared in the martial hall where Cha Ming practiced patterns in the early morning. Since interrupting his practice or doing nothing but watching him would be suspicious, this group of ten Daoists decided that it would be best to think up a training regimen, which they executed for two hours, after which, seeing that Cha Ming had no opponent to spar with, they offered themselves up as sparring partners.

It was naturally impossible to glean Cha Ming’s secrets with just three hours of observation. Who knew if they were missing something important? They couldn’t possibly know that, while relaxing and enjoying life in the outside world, Cha Ming had eight incarnations working together to produce four God Slaying Talismans per time-accelerated day.

They therefore decided to have a variety of people watching him based on their interests. This included five Daoists who were cooking enthusiasts deciding to accompany him as he made lunch and dinner. A few juniors noticed that Cha Ming liked to converse and experiment with Daoist Three Lives, so they joined them and served as laboratory assistants.

Law-Stitching Elders were naturally beyond such schemes. As such, they contented themselves with playing Angels and Devils in the afternoons, coincidentally at the same time as Cha Ming.

The Frost Lotus Sect did not even spare Cha Ming’s evenings. There was apparently a great deal of interest in painting, both magical and otherwise, and so, for the first four hours of every evening, he found himself hosting a small painting club.

Only his nights were free now, which was more than sufficient to keep his secret. Everyone would assume that he was just a very talented talisman artist working with a minor time acceleration formation, which he commissioned a Daoist to build inside his room just in case, and completely ignored cultivation in favor of the smaller things in life.

What started out as idle curiosity had unintended benefits. As the situation in Desert’s Blessing grew more stable with the addition of God Slaying Talismans to their repertoire, people began to notice these popular interest groups. The ten Daoists joining Cha Ming for morning practice became fifty, and the cooks, alchemists, painters, and even Angels and Devils players swelled accordingly.

Sect Master Frozen Thorn was the most surprised by this development. He saw the morale in his sect reverse course and become a bastion of belonging and hard work, and the outflux of mortals reverse in turn. There were other benefits. For one, the combat aptitude of his sect shot up drastically, which in turn spurred on hundreds of others to start their own scheduled practice sessions, thereby pressuring the sect’s elders to take charge of these classes lest chaos ensue.

The original ten curious Daoists were baffled at such a development, and while they maintained their initial commitment to gleaning Daoist Clear Sky’s secrets, they soon began to see the benefits of regular and committed practice at high intensity and daily sparring. Also, as founding members, they could no longer back out.

Cultivation breakthroughs were a natural consequence. Sect members grew more assertive. This caught the Churches of Jezeriah and Harid Dej completely by surprise, and even the demon faction became apprehensive. The Daoist way began to experience a resurgence in popularity, and the mass exodus from the Frozen Lotus Sect was thereby temporarily stemmed.

This was only the most obvious benefit. It soon became clear that the discussions between Daoist Clear Sky and Daoist Three Lives, while high level, were very useful to those practicing all levels of alchemy. They gleefully joined in on experiments, which allowed them to broaden their horizons while the two senior Daoists leveraged the huge increase in manpower to perform higher level statistical experiments and modernize their mass production of much needed alchemical reagents. Several new pills recipes and potions were invented as a result, which in turn infused the Frozen Lotus Sect’s alchemy shops with new life and improved the sect’s economic situation.

“Daughter, how are we supposed to interpret these recent developments?” Frozen Thorn said one day as he put down a report, making no effort to hide his bewilderment.

“Is there a need?” Frozen Rain asked after scanning the report. “These results are only beneficial for the sect. There’s no need to ask any questions.” She was clearly just as baffled as he was. “What do you say, Elder Glacial Blade?”

“Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth is my advice,” Glacial Blade said. He chuckled. “Two new professions, alchemical cooking and spiritual painting. Both useful in their own way, though the first is reminiscent of the Witch class among Jezeriah’s rankers.” He then shot a sidelong glance to Frozen Thorn. “I’d say the greatest benefit isn’t even included in these reports.”

Frozen Thorn smiled. “Yes, it certainly has been quiet in the recent elder council meetings, hasn’t it? Who would have thought there were so many avid Angels and Devils players in the sect. Yourself included, of course.”

Glacial Blade coughed lightly. “My interest is purely academic. I normally wouldn’t make the time, but I naturally wouldn’t want to fall behind my peers, especially after my recent breakthrough into the Law-Stitching Realm.”

“I understand,” Frozen Thorn said. He and Frozen Rain exchanged a knowing look.

So it was that two months passed. Desert’s Blessing not only procured two hundred God Slaying Talismans to frighten their foes, but also secured great gains in their sect’s morale, profitability, and internal harmony. Such things worried the many factions that had been tearing away pieces of Daoism in Desert’s Blessing, but that was a matter for another time.

***

What others didn’t know was that Cha Ming did not spend his time working or even sleeping at night but continued painting instead. He did so throughout the night, long after the last of his guests were gone.

These days, he painted with spiritual bamboo canvas and a larger variety of inks. While not terribly useful for talisman crafting or alchemy, these inks were ideal for infusing laws and emotions, and could even be mixed to obtain different colors without degrading their effects.

Time passed day by day. After the first month, he was able to manifest living paintings, which moved of their own accord. By the end of the second, he was able to gather laws, to a certain extent, in much the same way as he did when executing Descent of the Five Sovereigns with the Clear Sky Brush.

“I’d wager these might even become a useable medium for my technique, if I used the right materials,” Cha Ming mused. It wouldn’t happen any time soon, but he knew that he could achieve such a feat, in time.

He looked over his shoulder to find Yu Wen sneaking up on him. “Can’t you at least pretend to be surprised?” she pouted. “I put a lot of effort into sneaking up on you this time. I’m pretty sure Frozen Thorn didn’t even notice my entering.”

“Frozen Thorn might not have noticed you, but perhaps the Sect Ancestor did,” Cha Ming said. “Not that he ever leaves seclusion, or that many people even know he exists.”

“If he’s so reclusive, how did you find out he existed?” Yu Wen asked. She walked up to the painting he’d just finished, which depicted a turtle fighting to the death with a white tiger.

“At first I thought he was just an ordinary man who liked playing Angels and Devils,” Cha Ming confessed. It took several games and a few surprising twists before he accidentally lost control over his spiritual sense for the barest moment. We had a nice chat over tea after that. It’s amazing how many things one can miss if all they do is cultivate.”

“And now you see why I’m always travelling,” Yu Wen said.

“Indeed,” Cha Ming said. “I missed you, by the way, though I’m sure you knew that.”

“And I you,” Yu Wen said. She leaned into his shoulder and clung to him like he was the only warmth in the world.

They simply stood there for a few minutes, enjoying the silence that could only be found a few hours before the sun rose. “How was your business trip?” Cha Ming asked.

“Profitable,” Yu Wen said smugly. “Look this.” She held out her hand, revealing a few small pieces of black jade.

Cha Ming’s eyes widened. “Top-grade inkwell jades. Impressive.”

“It took quite a bit of effort to build up to that,” Yu Wen said. “You need to spend money to make money, and unfortunately, someone used up most of my capital in an unfortunate incident.”

Cha Ming cleared his throat. “Mistakes were made. Surely you’ll forgive me.”

“Always,” Yu Wen said. “By the way, I noticed that these paintings of yours are looking awfully realistic. Though that one, in particular, gives me a strange and eery feeling.” She pointed to a painting he kept in the corner of the room. He’d been inspired to draw it a few days prior.

Cha Ming shivered. “I’m not sure why I painted it. It really does put me on edge.” The painting in question depicted a battle between angels and devils in a large, open canyon. They were fighting in the sky, wearing the colors of Jezeriah and Harid Dej. “I’m also not sure why I sympathize with the devils in this case.” Said devils were getting slaughtered. Still, they fought, all the while a goddess stalked lesser prey beneath them. It was unfathomable why any of this would be happening.

“Who knows?” Yu Wen said. “Whatever the reason, I’d be happier if you put this one away.”

“Your wish is my command,” Cha Ming said, storing the item. “How long will you be staying this time?”

“Three days,” Yu Wen said. “I have another business meeting that I can’t miss.”

“You leave me with so little time it pains me,” Cha Ming said.

“That’s the kind of life I lead,” Yu Wen said. “You knew that from the outset, so don’t start blaming me now.”

Cha Ming chuckled. “I would never blame you for being yourself. Though I’m thinking I could start tagging along with you if you’ll have me.”

“Maybe next time,” Yu Wen said. “This meeting is a little sensitive.”

“No matter,” Cha Ming said. “But now that you’re here, I can finally get something off my chest.”

“So you were waiting for me,” Yu Wen said. “You could have asked, and I would have come sooner.”

“Sooner wouldn’t have worked, since this has to do with a bit of a long-term project,” Cha Ming said. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

“You haven’t said with what, so I can’t help but be curious,” Yu Wen said. “Very well. Lead the way.” She held out her hand, and Cha Ming took it.

The Clear Sky World had changed much since its earth-shattering transformation three months prior. Massive areas of barren soil were now overgrown with spiritual trees and plants of all sorts. Streams that had once seemed sterile and artificial now weaved in and out of the lush garden like they had been there to begin with.

The garden was teaming with life, be it demonic, botanical, or elemental. It was no longer a quiet place of refuge but a personal conservatory of rare creatures that, for the most part, Cha Ming let grow unchecked.

“I always wondered what was in that foggy patch in the garden you kept telling me to steer clear of,” Yu Wen said. “I guess today’s the day I find out?”

“I didn’t keep you out for malicious reasons,” Cha Ming assured. “It’s just that some things are best kept secret until the right moment.”

“I’m a big fan of surprises, and you give me too few of them,” Yu Wen said. “After all this time, you’re finally reciprocating.”

“It isn’t a competition,” Cha Ming said.

He was admittedly usually the one to receive gifts since Yu Wen was always travelling and buying curious things on a whim. He typically reciprocated by gifting her protective treasures and talismans, which she used up with alarming frequency.

“Should I close my eyes?” Yu Wen asked.

“No need,” Cha Ming said. “The mists will part soon. Get ready.” The whiteness, revealing a small lake, a mulberry tree, and a small assortment of birds, aquatic creatures, and a large number of puppies. There were no cats.

The grass made a soft crunching sounds when they landed. A few of the birds, alarmed by their sudden arrival, flew a few feet away and continued doing what they did best. Yu Wen looked around with a frown, and Cha Ming simply smiled as he watched her reaction.

She flew over to the tree then ran her hand along the bark. After picking a leaf and putting into in her mouth for a taste, she flew over to the lake and snatched a fish, which she released shortly after. She continued in this way for a good half hour before finally returning to where Cha Ming was still standing. “Well?” he asked.

“How is this even possible?” Yu Wen asked. “How much time did this all take?”

Cha Ming grinned. “For the first month I couldn’t do much, but after achieving the realm of spiritual painting, it became much easier. I started spending five hours per day every night for thirty days. Time accelerated hours, by the way, so we’re talking fifteen hundred hours in total. I naturally had other things to do, so I could only draw on a single incarnation. I was able to reluctantly finish this project before you arrived.” He walked up beside her and pulled her close. “Do you like it?”

He heard a sniff and looked over to find Yu Wen crying. She hurriedly wiped away her tears. “You painted this? For me?”

“Of course,” Cha Ming said. “Who else? The grass took a lot of work, but I managed it. Oh, and the water. You can’t imagine how difficult it is to imitate how grass changes shades and how water reflects light. The sunset was relatively easier.” He had to stop talking, because he suddenly found himself the recipient of a very forceful and very passionate kiss. He wasn’t sure how long the exchange lasted, and before he knew what was happening, Yu Wen was pulling him from place to place, object to object, and creature to creature.

Her excitement wasn’t misplaced. The place he’d taken her to might look small and simple, but it was definitely one of a kind. The small lake, the tree, the grass and even the sky were all paintings. Even the creatures here and sunset were paintings. This place was a living, breathing painting, in a three dimensional setting.

It was difficult to tell at a glance, because these paintings were realistic down to the faintest detail. The tree’s bark had the right texture, the birds’ feathers were well-coordinated. All these seemingly-sentient creatures moved, ate, and even breathed.

The only tell that this was all false was a faint sense of strangeness and incongruity, like this place followed its own set of rules that was independent of the outside world. It was too perfect, much like a materialized illusion might be, or a very convincing puppet or simulacrum.

“Why no cats?” Yu Wen asked, bending down to pet a dog. “I like cats.”

“Because to make them realistic, I’d need to be serving them hand and foot,” Cha Ming said. “Dogs are much easier. As long as I paint in sufficient entertainment and allow them to do as they please, the illusion isn’t broken. Cats…. are demanding. I’m also convinced they can see things on a spiritual level, which is very difficult to work into a painting. Oh, and they’re vicious and bloodthirsty.”

“I believe Xiao Bai would approve,” Yu Wen said, nodding.

Yu Wen happened to have brought over a picnic basket, so they set up a blanket and spent hours in each other’s company. Cha Ming’s painted world also included a cycle of day and night that was normally absent in Jade Moon Garden. He’d worked in a jade moon into the starry sky as well, which added something that the rest of Jade Moon Garden lacked.

“Where are these stars from?” Yu Wen asked as they lay there one evening. “I don’t remember seeing such a sky.”

“They’re from another world,” Cha Ming said. “A world from a life I’ve almost forgotten. This world has no magic. No cultivation. No angels or devils. It’s a place with only mortals that the jade moon’s light doesn’t even reach.” He sat up and stretched. “There’s one more surprise here that I haven’t showed you.”

He took her hand and led her to onto the lake. They floated atop the water as painted fishes curiously poked their heads out to watch what they could only assume were deities walking in the heavens above the water.

They stopped at the center of the lake, where Cha Ming had both of them sink. The water here wasn’t inky like the rest of Jade Moon Garden, but clear such that the moonlight trickled in, illuminating a pink-white flower that had been hidden at the bottom of the lake. It bloomed as they fell, sending petals flying around them.

They simply floated there, enjoying the moment.

They said not a word for fear that the spell would be broken.

It had taken a lot of time, a lot of effort, and a lot of thought to make happen, but for this moment alone, it had all been worth it.