It was a simple but powerful truth that made him realize how pitiful he looked. He’d given up and was simply wallowing in self-pity. His disciple had allowed him to stay, so he did. He felt more at ease with Ling Dong’s easygoing personality, as well as the fact that the younger man never made any demands of him. He always seemed to know what to do, and why.
I might still find Water Source Marrow and Gold Source Marrow, Cha Ming thought. But that doesn’t mean I should just drop everything else. I’m a craftsman, a creator. Perhaps by making things, I’ll find a turning point or opportunity. Having made this decision, he felt his affinity for the water around him grow.
“Thank you,” Cha Ming whispered. He thought about leaving the chain-link puzzle but ultimately decided to keep it. It was a precious gift, and he guessed its properties were mental rather than physical. Examining it had been very beneficial to his state of mind, like a rebirth of sorts. It wouldn’t hurt to keep it a while longer.
When Cha Ming returned, he wasn’t in the mood to craft pills like he had in the past. Therefore, he turned his attention to the Clear Sky Brush and used it for its intended purpose: painting. But instead of painting talismans, he decided to paint pictures. His creations were mediocre at best, but his endurance made it so he could paint nonstop.
A month passed by, and during this month, he painted the major moments of his life. His near-death experience near Greatwood Bridge, then fighting the lightning tribulation. His paintings changed when he washed up from the river. Like Jun Xiezi’s painting, Samsara, they were filled with the essence of duality and contradiction. Flowing and resisting, hardening and crumbling, sharpening and dulling, kindling and dousing. Though he didn’t know much about living and dying, he gave it a shot anyway. These were crude paintings without much feeling, but by creating them, he felt like the mysteries of wood were shedding a thin skin, allowing him to grasp them even further.
Cha Ming heard soft footsteps behind him as he added the finishing touches to a rendition of Yu Wen. He could never do her justice every time he painted her, but he poured his heart and soul into it regardless.
“You must love her very dearly,” a voice said from behind him. He recognized the voice as Gong Shuren, the Sea God crown princess.
“More than you can imagine,” Cha Ming said, touching up Yu Wen’s hair. Her surroundings were fiery and serene, his own interpretation of the volcano. “When you love someone, it’s difficult to stop thinking about them even for a day.”
Gong Shuren took a seat at one of the stone tables in the courtyard. Her long flowing white hair and the blue runes covering her pale skin caused her to stand out in the small space where he’d been painting. “Where is she now?”
“In another life, another world,” Cha Ming whispered, touching up her eyes. Those bright, caring eyes he could get lost in for hours. “She died.”
“I’m sorry,” Gong Shuren said. “I shouldn’t have pried.”
Cha Ming sighed. He added a few other strokes and finished his creation. Then, he summoned his Grandmist flames and burned it. Even the Space-Time Camera in his possession couldn’t do her justice, and a poor imitation didn’t deserve to stay in this world.
“What can I do for you, Crown Princess?” Cha Ming asked.
“You can start by calling me Sister Shuren,” the princess said. “You’re my savior, and even Royal Father calls you Nephew Cha Ming.”
“As you wish, Sister Shuren,” Cha Ming said. He took a seat at the table where she was. “We last met on the Heaven Ascension Platform. My apologies for the embarrassing display.”
Gong Shuren chuckled. “No other alchemist on this plane, save transcendents, of course, are capable of summoning a tribulation through their arts. To do so and fight until the end of the fire tribulation was impressive. Alas, some things are not permitted inside the Ling Nan Plane. Even gods and immortals can’t change that.” She cleared her throat. “I came here to ask a favor.”
“I’m not sure what sort of favor I can do for Sister Shuren, but I’ll try my utmost to help,” Cha Ming said. “Do you require a pill or talisman? Perhaps a formation?”
“I require a teacher,” Gong Shuren said.
Cha Ming raised an eyebrow.
“I wish to learn runic arts from you, time permitting.”
“I was under the impression that the royal court employed two formation artists and one talisman artist at the elder level,” Cha Ming said. “Perhaps they might be better equipped to help someone of your station and lineage.”
“There are no better runic art teachers than you in Haijing City,” Gong Shuren said. “Your students are proof of that. Two of them have even reached the elder level since your arrival.”
“My direct disciples weren’t so successful in comparison,” Cha Ming said.
“Only because their cultivation is limited,” Gong Shuren said. “Please don’t refuse me. I can ensure you’d be adequately compensated. Besides, I have elder-level teachers, but none of them are grand elders.”
Cha Ming chuckled and flicked the violet-gold medallion on his robes. It was his formation master medallion, the one the Formation Master Guild had bestowed on him at the Emperor’s instruction. “It’s not about money, Sister Shuren. I just want to be left alone. I suffered a great setback when I crafted that pill. I need to reorganize my thoughts and reassert my motivations. Then I’ll pursue a different path to transcendence.”
Gong Shuren looked him up and down. Her clear blue eyes peered into his, and he looked back into hers. He saw purity but not innocence. He saw calm, but there was also panic hidden deep within. He wasn’t sure how he knew these things; he
