Chương 11: A Blip of Civilization

He sank through seas of grey, relishing the brush of worm-finger-hooks against his skin and hair. The gritty sandy ocean went on forever, and above lay the Convergence of Worlds, countless filaments of reality weaving in a knot of such complexity that his eyes ached to look upon them. Gleaming muted brilliant dull Palaces of alien geometries Choirs of inhuman tongues lashed him, scraping his spirit bare, exposing him to wriggling worms of grainy malice—"Fuck!" Hao snarled, lurching to wakefulness in an instant.

The Grey Hilt lay in his hand, grey hooks of writhing sand embedded in his flesh. It screamed as he grasped the awful artifact, ignoring the drain of qi as he set it ablaze.

"I told you to cut that out!" A little fire was all it took to make the ugly thing accept being stuffed back into Xia's storage ring, which was so ruined from the Grey Hilt's presence that it seemed one bad day from complete disintegration.

"You're a piss poor traveling companion. You know that, right?" Hao hissed to the ring, which shivered in response. When the Grey Hilt wasn't unleashing psychic assaults, it often acted like a beaten dog. Who knew an artifact of the blackest magic could be such a whiny little shit?

"Could you be a little more considerate, you rancid little bastard? Keep being troublesome and I'll just stake you outside at high noon. The Emperor will deal with you soon enough." How did Xia keep this awful thing at her side? Hao kept it stuffed in its storage ring at every opportune and still felt like he was going mad. The little naps he took to restore his stamina were ruined by the Grey Hilt's creeping influence, doing its utmost to flay him and expose his spirit for it to take root.

It wasn't enough that the thrice-damned alien weapon constantly tried to break out of its rotting prison in the storage ring. What tempted Hao to burn it right this second was that the Grey Hilt was evil and stupid. That was an unforgivable combination in Hao's eyes, placing the Grey Hilt dangerously close to Yuchen in character. Or perhaps Yuchen was dangerously close to the Grey Hilt.

The eldritch weapon slipped its binds at least once per day, only to shriek like Sister Fu during the Naked Hao in the Bath Incident from a few years back as soon as it felt the burn of the Emperor's rejecting sunlight. Sister Fu had a much better reason to scream back then. At least in Hao's opinion. She hadn't screamed from sunlight, but from a moon… of sorts. How was he supposed to know she was going to barge in to show him some awful concoction she'd made, only to scream at the sight of him naked in the bath?

Worst of all, she'd spilled her newly brewed poison into the water. Knowing Fu's proclivities, Hao had expected her alchemical mixture to melt his skin off or twist his balls in a knot. Instead, he'd gotten off pretty lightly. He'd only had to spend two days locked in his cell before the hallucinations stopped. Actually, that wasn't the worst part. It was Master Bolin's damned jokes for weeks afterwards that really got under his skin.

Hao would take a hundred hallucinogenic adventures over one of Master Bolin's smiles. He was pretty sure that every time Master Bolin smiled, someone threw a sack of kittens into a lake. … Hao might have just gotten a little distracted. Trekking hundreds of miles through the golden fields of the Lonely Plains had tied his mind into a tangle, let alone seething from the constant pressure of the Grey Hilt nagging at him, fraying his thoughts. For a terrifying otherworldly heretical artifact, it was awfully whiny.

Your lowly hands cling, Insulting, demeaning Us Exalt Us, Wield Us! The whisper drained his qi, gnawing upon his essence, and Hao retorted the only way he could.

"Piss off." Hao manifested the Grey Hilt, dragging the damn thing from its storage ring, and ignored the awful sensation of gritty grease layering his body and spirit in favor of chucking the weapon as high as he could towards the morning sun. The Grey Hilt shrieked, folding upon itself and withdrawing from reality's burning grasp. Hao grinned as the Grey Hilt screamed. The leaden tendrils which wriggled from it like torn wriggling nerves retreated back into the abomination, scalded by the Emperor's rebuke.

"I'm burning you if you don't stay put, you little shit," Hao reminded the thing. It almost gratefully leapt into the storage ring, though he could still feel the faintest impression of its wretched presence. Could the Grey Hilt sulk? Because Hao was pretty sure it was sulking. Perhaps it really was just an infant. If so, Hao was straying much closer to infanticide than he'd ever imagined.

"That's what I thought." If the Grey Hilt kept pushing, Hao would destroy it out here on the Lonely Plains. Every manifestation of the artifact drained a fraction of Hao's qi. It hadn't forced him to burn any drops of the distilled qi he'd replaced with Xia's spirit jerky yet, but it had eaten away at the wispy reserves he used to run. The Grey Hilt had enormous value as proof of Hao's valor when he joined the trials of the Sun Dragon Acolytes.

Between it and the bizarre notes kept by Xia, he hoped to avoid having to put up anything else as collateral in his quest to attain their mighty Sunstruck Dragon Form. But Hao was under no illusions that he could keep the Grey Hilt subdued forever. Each night emboldened the weapon, though it struggled to persist without the specialized environment that Xia's arcane rites had created for it in the Cloven Pass.

It would appear for a span of twenty to thirty seconds, assault Hao's mind with its cryptic whispers, and then force him to shut it away for a few minutes until it emerged again. His only relief was that the Grey Hilt couldn't operate with impunity. Sunlight might have been the Emperor's preferred medium, but His lands rebuked the arcane wherever its cancer sprouted, even in the night.

It was Hao's safety net if the Grey Hilt threatened to overcome him—whenever it truly presented mortal danger, he'd forget its potential upsides and assault it with all he had, trusting in the Emperor's hatred for all things heretical to assist him. Restless, Hao decided that another short midday nap wasn't on the table. It was time to get moving. Running across the prairies was one of the few things that eased his mind from the creeping fog induced by the Grey Hilt.

"Enough," Hao muttered, eyes planted straight ahead as he raced past hundreds of wagons trailing along the road. He stuck to the grasses, unwilling to slow himself by interacting with mortals and lesser cultivators. Caravan guards occasionally stiffened as he raced by, fearful of whatever predator sped past their wagons, but he paid them no mind. Why would he? Qi concentrations dwindled with every step one took into the Lonely Plains.

Hao felt like a giant amongst little folk, his spirit burning brighter and brighter relative to the world around them. His skin was hot and feverish with his Wildfire, pounding as his inner flame radiated outwards, sharing Hao's light with the cold wasteland. Every breath barely drew in enough qi to sustain him.

Hao had burnt resource after resource from Xia's hoard as the days went by, straining out a few vital droplets of distilled qi, but his primary focus was to keep ahead of Yuchen, who thundered in the distance, perhaps a full day behind now. If Hao felt like a sputtering flame in the Lonely Plains, then Yuchen must've been utterly starved. Ruminators ruled as petty kings here, but achieving that power would take the patience of a sage.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The Lonely Plains were a paradise for mortals, but a desert for cultivators. Those two truths might have gone hand in hand. These northern regions were still fairly empty, but the closer one strayed to the Lonely Plains' heart, the more cities and fertile farmland they would find.

Only the edges were truly dangerous, mostly due to cultivators from more potent regions occasionally straying to take tribute.

"A week longer in this hell," Hao muttered, tracing his path through the Lonely Plains in his mind. Another week wrestling with the Grey Hilt, then another two weeks or so traversing the Blue Night Mountains to reach Sun Wall City. At least the higher qi concentrations in the mountains and valleys should aid him in quelling his whiny prisoner. What would really make this whole headache worth it was if Yuchen died somewhere along the way.

That was something Hao could look forward to, especially if he and Sister Fu could afford to spare a night or two celebrating with his new stockpile of Seven Delights Wine before going their separate ways. It hurt to know that their paths would likely diverge after Yuchen's death, at least until Hao returned to the White Rivers to bring fire and smoke to the sect. He'd have to ensure Sister Fu made her escape… But until then, it was time to keep running. Hours passed, then days.

The Grey Hilt struck constantly, never letting Hao rest for long, though he kept it as weak as he could by exposing it to sunlight. He was swiftly reconsidering his choice to haul the damned artifact all the way to Sun Wall City… Hao maintained a brutal pace by selectively cultivating with Xia's materials, often subsisting on a few bites of what he hoped was spirit beast meat and a qi-rejuvenation pill, but Yuchen chewed away at his lead bit by bit. Poor Sister Fu must have been dead on her feet.

Old memories of walking the Lonely Plains with his father's caravan guided Hao somewhat, though he only truly knew that he needed to go west. A tattered map lent him some direction, but mostly Hao just knew that eventually the golden plains rose into the mighty Blue Night Mountains, the last obstacle before Sun Wall City. So he pushed onwards, always cognizant of the spiritual thunder pealing behind, until finally…

"There!" Hao's eager bellow scared a few dumb-looking blackbirds and hungry sparrows who were picking through the fields, sending the birds squawking off into the sky. He grinned madly at the sight of a tiny dark blot on the horizon. Endless lines of caravans followed the stone road to the speck, congregating around it in a barely-visible mass of humanity.

"A town! Finally." Nobody could have blamed Hao for taking off like a fiery arrow for the first proper civilization he'd spotted in a month. His sensitive nose screamed at him about all he'd craved since fleeing West Lake City. People! Smoke! Food! Well, food that he hadn't butchered himself and half-burnt on a spit. Real food. Good, sumptuous, mouth-watering food with grease and spices and… oh, he didn't care if it was a waste of resources.

Hao was going to take a swig of Lover's Delight as soon as he stepped into town so that he could savor his first good meal properly. It was amazing how quickly forty miles could pass with the proper motivation. Hao set his qi alight, pushing himself as hard as he could without drawing on his precious distilled reserves, and bounded across the plains.

As the minutes ticked by, the town grew from a speck to a blot to a proper spectacle, expanding into a humble trading outpost surrounded by four stone walls and a good hundred caravans which swarmed it like flies to honey. Or young Inner Sect Disciples in the White Rivers to the achingly beautiful Elder Yuan who presided over the newly initiated members. She seemed a goddess come to earth to inexperienced young men… and a few young women as well.

She'd kindly broken the hearts of well over a hundred hopefuls, Hao included. Hao felt an ugly feeling in his gut that had nothing to do with the Grey Hilt. Hopefully Sister Fu hadn't spitefully told Yuchen about that unfortunate endeavor.

"Watch it—" snapped a grumpy caravaneer as Hao sprinted onto the road. Hao traversed past twenty creaking wagons in a breath. She immediately shut up and called out, "Forgive us for our offense, Master Cultivator!" Master Bolin would've demanded recompense out of principle, perhaps killing one of her oxen or taking his pick of the caravan's wares. Hao only cared about reaching the town. He raced around other merchants, taking heed of their tired eyes and fearful bearing, but didn't conceal himself.

Hao wasn't one to hide away from the world. He slowed to what he thought was a mortal pace as he jogged up to the town. One awestruck child's frantic exclamations made him slow down to a painful crawl, sifting through the mass of dusty caravans which had made camp outside the town with ease. Hundreds of mortals milled outside the town, hawking their wares while hiding from the harsh sun beneath countless canopies stretched between wagons.

Men and women squabbled and bartered over goods and deals and who knew what else, kicking up a familiar chatter that was a balm to Hao's social deprivation. How many cities had he passed by for fear of sects, wandering cultivators, or Yuchen? He'd just spent over a month as a wanderer, scraping for food and safety. To be frank, Hao hated it. He loved people, loved the buzz of a marketplace, and the endless delicacies to be found in a city proper. There would be no ascetic life for Xiao Hao!

Hao sobered a little as he caught sight of the huge line which had formed outside the walled city. Little outposts like this were never empty, but this was a clear sign of just how nervous the Sunbeam Corelanders were about the Emperors stepping off their thrones. The Lonely Plains were one of the few places the Four Winds Emperor wouldn't care to conquer. He was said to be a greedy man, hungry to claim all corners of the world, but the Lonely Plains had little to offer the Four Winds Empire.

They'd take it, certainly, but Hao doubted any of the Four Winds Emperor's great servants would set their eyes on this paltry little land. Not when the Corelands were so rich with qi and treasure. He shook such thoughts off as he stepped closer to the outpost. Caravaneers argued, jockeying for position and watching with eagle eyes for anyone trying to slip ahead. Elbows were thrown, hilts were exposed, and a simmering unrest boiled beneath the crowd.

Merchants, refugees, and simple travelers alike seemed ready to explode into war. Three weary guardsmen blockaded the town. Two bore the presence of Calcinators, poised above the gate with powerful bows held at their sides. They bellowed out instruction and rebuke to the caravaneers while the third grumbled, checked wares, and waved frustrated mortals through.

"Hey, you can't cut—" a portly merchant whined, only to freeze as Hao grinned back at him and let a fraction of his spiritual pressure slip out.

"This one apologizes for his hasty words, Master Cultivator!" Hao strode past the rest of the line. Any cries of outrage went silent once the impatient mortals caught sight of Hao's tattered blue-and-white cultivator's robes and the plain spear he held like a toy. The Cheng Spear's heavenly jade tip would've terrified them, but he had no interest in his favored weapon becoming a local legend. That was how one ended up chased by half the Lonely Plains.

Every Ruminator-Lord in this desolate place would send their petty armies after Hao if they knew what kind of treasure he wielded—if he weren't already on the run from Yuchen, he might have embraced the opportunity. Nothing stoked growth like adversity, but Hao was quite content with his current level of opposition. Advertising his possession of the Cheng Spear would drastically increase his troubles. A splinter of heavenly jade was worth a fortune.

The Cheng Spear could very well be one of the most valuable treasures in all the Lonely Plains, though that was rather like saying a noblewoman's jewelry was the most valuable treasure in a village of dirt-munching peasants. The Lonely Plains set the bar rather low.

"I've told you a dozen times, Merchant Lai! Verdant Plains Town can only host so many visitors. Unless you can pay the tithe, your company will have to remain outside." The guard delivered the ill news with the steady monotone of one who'd already been yelled at too many times to count in one day. Nothing armored oneself against being shouted at like repetition. He was a rather average man in all respects but his cultivation and the fancy golden ornament adorning his helmet.

Hao judged him to be deep into Calcination. Not bad! Merchant Lai's face purpled.

"Inconceivable! The Blooming Lotus Company has provided patronage to this dump of a town for decades." He shook his meaty fist at the guardsman, who looked about as fearful as a tiger being squeaked at by a particularly ferocious mouse.

"We will not forget this indignity!"

"See that you don't," Hao said, sweeping past Merchant Lai's guards to lay a hand on the stout man's shoulder. A vein in Merchant Lai's forehead bulged as he swatted Hao's hand away…or attempted to. It was like trying to budge a statue. Hao rather enjoyed the merchant going white with fear.

"You have a very impressive mustache, Merchant Lai. You must be very proud."

"I…this humble merchant thanks the Honored Cultivator!"

"Step back into line. I need to speak with this one," Hao said, gesturing at the guardsman, who closed his eyes and looked up to the heavens, perhaps wondering what deity he'd offended to have such poor luck. Merchant Lai squeaked out an apology and skittered away, ushering a few others forward in line to put some bodies between himself and Hao. The guardsmen whispered a prayer to the Emperor. Hao grinned. Hopefully he wouldn't need to make this unfortunate man's life too complicated…