Abyssal Road Trip - 659 - Made of Fire (Patreon)

Amdirlain’s PoV - Near great Gorge - Xīfāng

Amdirlain shut her eyes and immersed herself in the acrid sting of the rage she’d kept hidden since she’d freed the slaves from First Peak. Fury pulsed in her veins, casting a red veil across her thoughts. She drove mental fingers into the heated mess of it and pulled inward, compressing into a core of fuel. When it was a tight ball, her desire set it alight in a phoenix’s combustion. As her own memories of slavery’s cruelty rose, excess power spilled back across her, and Amdirlain hurriedly diverted it.

As her awareness brushed the ley lines carrying earth qi, the ignition of her pain took on the melody of a mantle’s inferno. Whispered notes of an ocean’s calm grace danced across the fury, cooling it to stone. From it, Amdirlain spun tendrils of rock into stitches across the gorge. Working from the deepest points, she criss-crossed it, raising the river floor but leaving tunnels beneath for the denizens who’d adjusted to its depths.

The outpouring of incinerated pain energised earth qi, and soon a stone canal topping the old gorge solidified in a rush. Along the thousand-li course, Amdirlain tied the formed stone into the local ley lines to sustain it until its creation stabilised. Along each side was a road wide enough for wagons side by side. In the north, the river's headwaters split in two, feeding the lower and upper tracts. Despite what she’d consumed, still more pain emerged from memory, and she fed her furnace of sublimation.

From multiple lifetimes, the strike of whips broke her skin, and the hollow in her chest resounded with grief for those she’d lost to the disease. Acid and fire scoured her veins and mind. Despite the furnace already overflowing with power, she fed it more and increased the pressure. Locked within her aura, the new fuel pushed the conflagration higher, and power cascaded along her bones, adding fresh agonies. A feedback loop that escalated violently. As her control strained towards bursting, she began injecting it with qi in precise flows, multiplying the energy at her command millions of times over.

With the gorge restructured, a spiderweb of stone with a phoenix-wreathed motif raced outwards from the gorge, lifting beneath the feet of travellers to form roads in a network millions of li in length. Still, there was too much to consume. Shrines, bridges, irrigation ditches, and local roads rose near hamlets, villages, and towns in need, and as the final dregs refused to ebb, she set safeguards at national boundaries. Bǎi Xǔ’s tendrils had entwined with the ties that fed here creations, ensuring their maintenance.

When she finally opened her eyes, the sun was high overhead. Its warmth caressed her skin with a delicate lightness that opposed the smells of the hamlet and skins being treated in the trader’s storage barn. As she refocused on her surroundings, a sharp tang of ammonia and other tanning chemicals scratched at her nose, banishing the dreamy state she’d inhabited.

Downslope from where Amdirlain sat, Líng Xī had a small cluster of teenagers and children at her feet, taking them through breathing exercises to sense the qi within their flesh. Among the villagers sowing the fields, Drakon pitched in.

Easier to create wild worlds than infrastructure allowing for what already exists.

Standing silently, Amdirlain slipped away to avoid disturbing the children and strode toward the outer fields.

The elder woman dishing out seeds to the planters looked up at her. “Might I help you, cultivator?”

“Since you’re keeping everything organised, might I plant some seeds as well?”

With trembling hands, the grey-haired woman provided a scoop of seeds to Amdirlain. “Please start a new line and space them to match the others.”

“I appreciate your guidance.” Amdirlain smiled reassuringly and drew a knife from her soul void and modified it into a matching trowel. Stepping past the planted rows and those in progress, she dug her trowel in experimentally until it reached the same depth as the others. A spot at a time, Amdirlain moved forward, her movements a calm, meditative flow of planting and covering each with a small mound of soil. As she progressed along the line, she spun her nascent soul faster, drawing energy up from the closest ley line instead of her surroundings, and stored blazing spirit coins of primordial qi.

The presence of Drakon and Amdirlain muffled interactions among the peasants, and the group worked into near silence until sunset and finished most of the new fields.

As the others headed home, Amdirlain walked beside Drakon, planting the last rows. “Thanks for taking care of things.”

“You were busy this morning, so we got on with things,” Drakon said. “Are you okay?”

“It took longer than I expected to tend to a wound,” Amdirlain replied, wrapping a sound barrier around them. “Did they even notice the change to the gorge?”

Drakon wrinkled his nose absently. “One person commented about the gorge being quiet today. Does that count?”

“I guess,” Amdirlain laughed. “How long did you have to argue with them to let you help?”

“Not long,” Drakon said. “The usual case of fear of cultivators kicked in. You know, sometimes I prefer it when folks argue, but it’s good when they see the sense in saving their energy for themselves. Like you.”

“Me?”

“You said you didn’t need to spend more time healing, but you just spent last night and this morning tending to yourself.”

“It wasn’t a problematic issue. I just tapped into some emotional residue from First Peak, and it brought forth more memories,” Amdirlain said. “Then I had to make use of the reagent’s potential instead of sealing it away.”

“Should I tell you the next problem, or do you want to guess?”

Amdirlain sighed. “None of them can read?”

“Only the tavern owners.”

“What are they like?”

“They are too mercurial for my taste,” Drakon said. “If we leave the plan with the owners, I bet they’d have to pay one of them to read it each time. I told the headman I’d teach him to understand it after dinner.”

“How fast are you going to teach him to read?”

“Not as fast as you do it, but I might make a scale model as well,” Drakon replied. “Or I’ll let you be unsubtle.”

“You’ll let me?” Amdirlain laughed. “You’re being cheeky.”

“While you were doing everything else, did you pass an eye over that ruin?”

“No. It was itching at me, so I left it be.”

Drakon stopped and turned to the northeast. “Something out that way feels wrong. I can see the ruins, but something feels off about them. How do the locals even settle ghosts?”

“No idea. Let’s ask for help.”

“Are you going to bother Mùchén some more?”

“No, I thought I’d go further afield.” Amdirlain rolled her shoulders as dwelling on the city worsened the sensation gnawing on her spine. “Or not? There is definitely something that I want to look into.”

Drakon frowned. “Don’t leave me behind this time.”

The discomfort persisted, and Amdirlain scanned her karmic ties, tracing the shifting music that connected to it. An old tie twisted around another, forming a strange umbilical cord that led in the same direction, but only one person waited at the end. Attired in blue robes adorned with a silver lightning motif, he no longer wore a mask.

“Yuxuan,” Amdirlain spat.

“Where?”

“He’s in the ruins feeding on the ghost’s torment. I thought when he body-hopped he pushed the inhabitant out, but the soul of the person he took over is still within the body. We need to see if we can free him and lay the ghosts to rest.”

“Then we should get the others,” Drakon said. “Mùchén had been organising formations to prevent Yuxuan from body hopping again. Who were you going to ask for help?”

“I was going to see if the dragons of Jade Peak Sect would help,” Amdirlain frowned. “With the lord and lady being in the spirit transformation rank, they’d be safest. There were others there when Haoran beheaded Yuxuan, but since I’ve not contacted them yet, it feels unsafe to drag them in.”

“Is that why you don’t look happy?”

“No, since I don’t know how he can possess someone, I don’t know what protection we need.” A group of translucent songbirds formed around Amdirlain, then vanished in a rush. “Right, I’ve told Mùchén, Jiayi, Panlong, and Yunxian.”

“Now we have to wait to hear from them, right?”

“Yes, I’ll behave,” Amdirlain groaned.

“Good. Lady Yunxian’s name is so similar,” Drakon rumbled.

“You’re inferring a dragon could be mistaken for a body hopper,” Amdirlain gasped playfully, the act a thin film over her discontent.

Shooting her a side-eye, Drakon reached out to tweak her earlobe, but she ducked away.

“Too slow.” Amdirlain headed for the knoll. “Let’s go give Líng Xī the news.”

“Soon. Let’s just walk for a time first,” Drakon said.

Amdirlain paused beside the field. “Do I need to stop rushing about?”

“I’m used to standing at a forge, and the routine of it.” Drakon shrugged. “Which doesn’t mean I can’t adapt, but I need ‌occasional quiet time.”

“Time alone?”

“That’s your thing, not mine. Being alone is hard on me,” Drakon replied. “No, my quiet time is working on something routine or stopping to enjoy the moment.”

“We could try forge work as a meditative exercise together,” Amdirlain proposed. “I’ll create the chaos, and you can order it.”

A deep laugh rolled up from Drakon’s belly, and he looped an arm across Amdirlain’s shoulder. “Love you, sis.”

“You’re an acceptable brother,” Amdirlain chuckled, patting his hand.

“I’ll take that as high praise, given your perfectionism.”

“That’d be your choice.” Amdirlain tilted her head back to stare at the stars beginning to appear in the darkening sky.

“Don’t you like the stars?”

“I like normal stars; I’m divided on these. That they’re fake gets under my skin.”

“They’re not fake,” Drakon countered. “They’re the realm providing understandable guideposts. In a way, they join everyone in the realm, as they all see the same night sky.”

“Maybe. I prefer stars as physical objects, living and moving, with beings able to wonder what life is out there,” Amdirlain sighed. “I remember lives when I couldn’t even see the stars, but I still wondered what existed beyond. Here I know there is nothing until you reach the realm’s boundary.”

A leap sailed her over the fields to the base of the knoll, carrying the sound barrier with her, and Drakon caught up as she wove through the stakes. The enchantments in her garments shed the dark soil from her robes and boots.

Further up the slope, Líng Xī stood where she’d been teaching the children. As they grew close, the sound barrier enfolded her as well.

“What will we be doing tomorrow?”

“Teaching until we hear from others about investigating the ruins to the northeast,” Amdirlain said.

“If it’s something important enough to draw your attention, should I stay behind?” Líng Xī asked.

“We stumbled on the body hopper. I’ll return you to the tower for now.” Drakon clasped her shoulder briefly. “The fewer cultivators within his range, the better things might go.”

“I could stay here and teach the children,” Líng Xī said.

“He doesn’t seem to have noticed us yet, but even if Mùchén has a formation to catch him, I’d prefer you far away when the fight starts.” Drakon sat across from Líng Xī, and Amdirlain joined him.

“Did you enjoy teaching the children?”

Líng Xī smiled nostalgically. “It reminded me of my uncle’s visits when I was younger. I’ve not seen him since meeting Master Drakon. He is a body cultivator in the army, and my visits home haven’t overlapped with his.”

Delving into Líng Xī’s oldest karmic ties, Amdirlain caught phantasmal hints of more just out of sight. Among the ones she could clearly make out, the blood ties resonated with a group, allowing her to isolate Líng Xī’s family. One by one, she displayed images of each to them.

While most showed farm scenery, one thin-faced man in armour supervising a group of soldiers on watch stood out.

“Yes, that’s my uncle.”

“He appears to be stationed at a town garrison. I’ll send you for a visit before we go after Yuxuan.”

Drakon nodded. “We’ll come collect you from there afterwards. I’d actually like to meet him myself.”

“Are you going to put on proper cultivator airs?”

“Why would we?” Drakon rumbled.

“So he’d gain face with his colleagues that esteemed individuals came to visit him.”

“Very well,” Amdirlain said, mirth lighting her face. “Perhaps I’ll have to reward him for assisting his prodigy niece in starting her journey.”

“I’m hardly a prodigy. I’m sure anyone under Master Drakon’s care and exposed to your wildness, Lady Amdirlain, would fare as well.”

“Some might have hidden in a corner and curled up in a ball,” Amdirlain quipped. “That is a trip for another day. Now, would you like to spar?”

Líng Xī leapt to her feet. “Whereabouts?”

“Among the bamboo. Any strikes against them will count against you,” Amdirlain said, flowing to her feet.

“At least you didn’t suggest trying to duel atop them.”

The head of a translucent garter snake appeared at Amdirlain’s foot and wiggled out of a crack between dimensions; its body full of the musical chimes of a repeating message. It tasted the air and squirmed towards Amdirlain, who scooped it up. It wrapped itself around her hand, climbed her arm, and rested its head on her shoulder as it spoke the words in Mùchén’s voice.

“The specialist I’ve contacted will need time to prepare. His presence at a haunted ruin concerns them, but they’ll not say why. They’ve said not to delve beyond the ruins’ edge until they arrive.”

Another songbird carried Amdirlain’s confirmation, and she looked between them. “So we hold tight for now. We’ll keep the sparring low-key until they arrive.”

The sound barrier dropped as Drakon waved them on. “Have fun.”

With gliding steps, Amdirlain led the way east to the thin bamboo groves closer to the new canal. When it came into sight through the stalks, Líng Xī froze in mid-step.

“Why?”

“With a river and roads on either bank, I believe river barges will remove the isolation of communities.”

“Only downstream,” Líng Xī countered. “How long was the gorge? Would any merchant dare to make such a trip?”

“The roads will allow beasts able to draw vessels upstream. Have you never seen such a thing?”

Líng Xī shook her head.

“Then, I’ll have to ensure the idea makes it to people who’ll make use of it and not bury it.”

“You were going to just do a simple trip,” Líng Xī noted.

“Things got a little out of hand,” Amdirlain admitted.

Líng Xī studied the canal and turned to regard Amdirlain. “A little?”

“I underestimated the pain I had to vent, by just a touch.” Amdirlain drew her jian. “Shall we work on your endurance?”

“Hitting stalks counts against you as well.” Líng Xī sidestepped behind a cluster of stalks, then flowed out the other side with her blade in hand.

“That won’t save you,” Amdirlain laughed, slipping aside Líng Xī’s first thrust.

With her blade sheathed in metal qi to avoid chipping the edge, Amdirlain drove Líng Xī around the groves. Moving slightly faster than her student could manage, she watched for openings and drops in Líng Xī’s guard. The touches Amdirlain landed were stinging strikes with the flat of the blade, bruising badly though they didn’t break skin. Hours of fighting sent tremors of exhaustion through Líng Xī’s limbs yet, as that exhaustion grew, qi surged through meridians and soaked outwards through muscles and into the skin, reinforcing tired limbs and bruised flesh.

Near midnight, a riposte ripped Líng Xī’s blade from her grasp, and as it flashed in the starlight, her gaze went vacant. With a cultivation spiral drawing qi into her nearly emptied dantian, Amdirlain stepped back.

A tug of will leapt the blade into her hand and, standing guard over Líng Xī, Amdirlain glanced at the starry sky.

With all the changes I’m setting in motion, I wonder if Sun Wukong is regretting the rules that have me trapped here.

Sun Wukong’s PoV - Shrine south of Tuancheng

A midnight procession lit by torches was underway when Sun Wukong appeared on the uppermost balcony, carefully concealing his presence from the mortals. From the pagoda window, he could eyeball the crisp lines of the roadwork that cut off ten li from the capital. A peach absently turned in his hand as he dwelt on the feel of the statues beneath him, each resonating with a power that was so close to his lost friends. 

What’s Amdirlain planning? Despite the literacy the wall’s engravings provide, this can’t be just about educating people and helping them open cultivation paths. Is she chastising me for leaving them behind?

The decorative murals that copied the carvings he’d placed at First Peak stung his gaze, and tears flowed freely. A horde of voices, raised in determined battle cries, rang in his ears as memories of the retreat rose to cut at him. Yet his sorrow echoed the pain in the murals, and its shared resonance brought a quiet release.

No, she knows the pain of loss, it’s not that. What is she planning? Why spend her pain this way?

Along the national borders sat precise boundary markers capped with phoenixes facing in either direction; their knees bent and wings flared as if ready to leap. Their fierce gaze and aggressive stances held a vicious rebuke for armies that dared cross, yet the travellers passing them felt only warmth.

As he looked over the nations, Quan Yin appeared beside him as a woman with white, wispy hair and a heavily lined face.

“Any idea what she’s trying to do?” Sun Wukong asked.

“Is it a scheme? Perhaps she’s simply grieving for our friends,” Quan Yin said.

“I expected her to at least try to break out by now. For such a wild being, she’s entirely too placid in some regards.”

“Yes, she just created some dimensional worlds and upended the rot at First Peak. Perhaps you are looking at it too much from your old perspective rather than attempting to see it from hers.”

“Huh?”

Quan Yin leaned against the balcony railing to consider the statues. “She even included Xuan Wu’s missing scale.”

“And what of it?”

“She’s been to the summit of First Peak,” Quan Yin said. “Perhaps it’s a message that she knows how you capped the entry point.”

“Why should that matter?” Sun Wukong huffed. “The scale is on the outside of the realm, and the pressure of the far chaos holds it in place.”

“I think it matters because she wiggles through loopholes; what others accept as fact, she challenges. Perhaps that’s why you like her so much; despite her age, she still possesses the wildness of your youth.”

With that, Quan Yin vanished. Looking at the crowd below him, Sun Wukong turned more of his attention to the negotiation with Maker. The strange being had been niggling at him since dropping Drakon in his realm, the combination of the entity’s presence in the far chaos and the speed of their thoughts made conversation possible.

Can I convince Maker to borrow a few more people from Nicholaus’s realm? Surely some of them could calm Amdirlain down. The problem is, I don’t have any leverage I’d actually use.

“If you think they would calm her down, you’re sadly mistaken.” Maker’s awareness rolled across Sun Wukong’s mind.

“But I didn’t reach out to you!” The sheer pressure of its thoughts forced Sun Wukong to withdraw to a single location in the heavenly plane.

“I encapsulated your realm,” Maker replied. “Its laws are now a subset of what I allow.”

“What do you plan to do? Have you come to free Amdirlain?”

“I intend no harm, young creator, as this situation arose from no fault of your own. Your realm is looping in a holding pen so it doesn’t get further away and communication doesn't slow. As for Amdirlain, her healing is a beneficial outcome. I’m sure if she returned to her realm right now, she’d focus on her foes instead.”

“With every reply, you simply create more questions.” Around Sun Wukong, various court officials moved at a snail’s pace compared to the conversation. Yet Sun Wukong still felt a touch of impatience from Maker, as if he were the one taking too long to speak.

How fast do Maker’s thoughts run?

“Your realm’s temporal pace would need to be ten thousand times faster to hinder my communications with you.”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to pry.” Panic spiked through Sun Wukong, bringing back memories of the pain from the golden headband.

“If it was a bother, I wouldn’t have answered you. The process of creation is eternal and fast-moving. Back to the topic at hand. If you wish some of Amdirlain’s companions to join her, I would suggest you discuss it with her in advance. I wouldn’t even suggest it to her, but putting yourself in danger is up to you.”

“Any other recommendations?”

“If we don’t want to invite her wrath, it would need to be their choice. Ensure she knows ‌your intent, as she might well see it as you taking more hostages.”

“Drakon isn’t a hostage.”

“Does Amdirlain see it that way? You might find she causes more chaos while she seeks to help them.”

“I understand my worries, but don’t tell me you’re actually concerned about her wrath!”

“While I have a head start, she is quite determined when you set her a distant target.”

“Then maybe I’ll speak to her after she and her allies deal with a threat that she’s currently eyeing.”

The Maker’s crushing presence withdrew, and Sun Wukong groaned at the paperwork awaiting him. “I wasn’t on the earthly plane long.”

“These are all the things you’ve been putting off.” Came the clerk’s brisk retort. “Would you prefer the generals address these matters without guidance?”

Sun Wukong roared. “You’re no fun!”