Despondently, I look out over the rolling dunes of tan sand.

Black glass shards and dust have settled over the region for miles in every direction. Many tons of glass were disbursed after a tremendous effort to refine it.

The ordinary desert glass can be replaced readily enough. My skills in temperature transference have grown over the months I've labored on my project. But, the spirit glass…. The scattering of the chi-infused quartz crystal is discouraging.

Some of it remains and can be recycled. But, making new glass will be faster than going out to sift through the sands for specks of my past work.

"Hah," I sigh for the hundredth time in the last hour.

I've been reviewing my workspace. If anything positive can be said for the chi storm, it's that the area is much more level and flat.

That state won't last long with the winds blowing. Thus, I must begin my work now.

There's no time to refine spirit glass. I need walls, taller and sturdier than the ones I made before. A dozen or so feet in height should be sufficient. And the thickness can be half that.

I know that glass isn't the best construction material. But, in the middle of a desert, there aren't a lot of options.

The day is spent in perpetual motion. My spirit body has grown in size following the use of the Dragon's Scream. The depth of my soul well is less like a puddle and more like a wash basin. Nothing compared with the soul sea that I had created in my past life. But then, I've only consumed one Dragon's Scream pill and not hundreds.

With depth, comes power. I can exert greater force with my soul body. And, I'm able to condense the glass beyond its natural density.

The molten glass cries out in agony as it's forced to be ever more compact. But, it submits to my molding.

Days pass and, before I know it, the weekly tribute arrives.

I watch a dozen trembling men as they cross the expanse between their camp and my altar.

I find myself surprised that the tribe perseveres in attempting to curry my favor. Were I a mortal, I would have fled when the screams began.

Whatever else can be said for the tribesmen, they're committed.

I find myself wondering how terrible this sorceress must be for them to think me a preferable immortal to submit to.

I suppose I haven't killed any of them. Which, I think, this sorceress must have done more than once.

But, that's the way of mortal/immortal relationships. It's not right, by any means. But, it is the way of things.

I put such thoughts out of my mind and watch the men approach with their sizeable bounty. It's more than they've ever offered before.

I would tell them not to. But, they've never listened before.

It's not like I'll take it.

If they want to throw away the rare resources they can acquire in the desert, that's their prerogative.

They dump their tribute on the sand near my altar, the previous tributes scattered to the wind.

This time, they do something new. The mortals show the custom of respect. Hand over fist, they bow.

I turn away from them and return to my work. There is so much left to do.

The glass wall crafting lasts for weeks. But, inevitably, I've erected a perimeter far more expansive than the one I'd made before. My expectations are even greater.

Still, these are only the walls. The floor needs to be molded.

As everything is brittle glass, cracks are a constant issue that requires mending. But, with my increasing control of thermal transference and the strength of my soul body, touching up my altar is a simple, if continuous, matter.

Weeks after the walls are finished, I have a, mostly, level plane on which to begin the laborious task of refining spirit glass.

The sand flows like water. And, time and again, chi is folded into molten glass. The lessons in blacksmithing find fresh enlightenment in this exotic art.

Spiritual energy, most simply referred to as chi, comes in two primary variants. The only difference is density.

There is base chi, which is softer and more easily absorbed. And there is ki, which is harder and most often used to strengthen.

When an immortal uses sword ki, they refine the subtler chi into an edge that transcends physical sharpness.

In blacksmithing, there are two primary types of metal one uses. Soft metal and hard metal. Soft metal is more pliable and resistant to breaking while hard metal is more rigid, subject to breaking, and can retain a superior edge. One can not have a high-quality sword without both hard and soft metal.

My skills in blacksmithing in the Violet Sword sect never advanced beyond the novice level. But, this rule of hard and soft informs my crafting of spirit glass.

The hard ki forms the membrane of the spiritual body of the glass while an endless depth of folded chi creates a reservoir into which the chi of heaven and earth can dwell.

By creating a porous membrane of ki around the glass, the surrounding chi can fall in to be trapped by the internal layers.

Even without me acting as the thought inside the spirit of the array, the spirit glass will absorb the surrounding energy. Some of which is radiated back out into the environment. And, the constant flow into and out of the glass creates a sort of whirlpool effect that brings ever more chi into it.

It's a remarkable resource that only seems to improve in quality as I grow more powerful.

Perhaps, one day, this spirit glass will even be superior to the naturally formed gemstones that I used in my past life.

Regardless of whether it's superior or inferior, it's cheaper. And, I find myself wondering if the quality of the sand might improve the quality of the spirit glass.

As I mull over the nature of my work, I add circles to a growing array.

At night I read the stars while comfortably casting my net to absorb growing quantities of chi.

The fisherman and the fish are always at odds. But, the chi of heaven and earth is not like the fish. The energy naturally flows like water from where it is most abundant to where it is least present. It would seek me out even if I didn't summon it.

Immortals and our soul stones are great sinks for chi. But, so long as our soul stones remain cracked, the chi flows both in and out.

It occurs to me that spirit glass is, in concept, much the same as a soul stone.

A smile comes over my face while I work. Dangerous thoughts are forming in my mind.

As the months pass, dozens of circles grow into hundreds. My placement growing more precise. When I need a better view, I take to my flying sword and look down on beautiful black glass.

The black circles rise from the black floor. Were it not for my vision of the spiritual world, seeing the array in its true form would be difficult.

In the spirit realm, it is a thing of profound beauty. From spirit grows a seed, from seed grows a flower, and from that flower grows a garden. Circles of, almost, perfectly placed spirit glass upon many other circles. All overlapping, save the one at the center that retains the thought that gives the spirit purpose.

As I look down on my work from above, I sense a change.

My eyes turn to the horizon and I sigh.

More mortals have come. Another tribe has moved to take a place on my perimeter. They are a considerable distance from the tribe of the rugged woman. I can't imagine these tribes are that fond of each other.

In the days that follow, this new tribe sets its tents. They don't seem to be planning a short visit.

Before long, an envoy arrives at the base of my altar.

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I sigh as I turn from my work and find myself looking down on a gathering of three men and two women. They all look at the long walls of black glass that surround my array with wonder.

I stand with my arms crossed. I'm not about to speak first.

A man steps forth from the group and presents a salute.

"Your Excellency," he says with respect. "We are here to show our allegiance to the immortal."

I look at the man with exhaustion.

"Go away."

The mortals behind the man shrink back. But, the leader doesn't.

"Your Excellency," he continues. "We assume you are familiar with the situation."

He looks off to the first tribe that started this.

I follow his gaze before returning it to him.

"I have no desire to fight another immortal," I say plainly.

The man swallows.

"Your Excellency, forgive me. But, the sorceress in not an immortal."

I look at the man oddly.

Still, curious as I am, I don't want to get involved.

"It is irrelevant. I do not require or wish for your allegiance. I'll repeat myself. Go away."

The man bites his lip before bowing hand over fist and walking away. His entourage leaves with him, a few looking back with disappointment.

I find myself doubting that this is the end of things. And soon, tribute is dumped before my altar.

I can't help but feel disgusted by the waste. These tribesmen don't know when to give up.

Time passes and I'm ready to use pills once more.

I think of the tragedy that is about to befall my, painstakingly crafted, array. But, it's necessary.

The growth of my soul well from puddle to wash basin will see a dramatic expansion this time. The Dragon's Scream grows more potent the more powerful the practitioner. And, my array is both grander in dimensions and more profound in terms of the quality of the spirit glass.

This experience, though a trial, will help me grow tremendously.

I only mourn for what will be lost and the time it will take to rebuild it.

It's been less than a year that I've been in the Desert of Desolation. I spent much more time on Fire Island to accomplish what I have already. Yet I can't help but feel that I don't have as much time as I first thought I did.

And, this sorceress….

She's a larger threat than I'd thought if a second tribe has come to petition my aid. It's more unsettling than I would admit to the mortals.

It seems likely that if so many mortals know of me and where I reside, this sorceress should know too.

And yet, she hasn't moved on me. Meaning one of two things. One, I'm not a threat, and two, I'm dangerous. I can only hope that she doesn't come for the latter reason.

Regardless of the reason, I am glad that she minds her own business.

As night falls, I settle into the array.

With the vine planted, I do not need another such pill. So, I start by consuming the Heavenly Resonance pill.

The music that flows through my array draws from the sky as well as the soil below.

The grid swims through the spirit realm where physical and immaterial meet.

Often, the thought is that chi comes upon the wind. That the air is the medium of the spiritual energy.

Rather, it is all the natural world that permeates with aetherial chi.

The earth below my array carries chi like an ocean. And the grid is like a spout in the vessel. Chi flows by osmosis, from where it is concentrated to where it is sparse.

The array sucks in the chi of heaven and earth like the abyss beyond a powerful waterfall. But, there is no up or down. Only center. And that center is occupied.

Ba-Bump.

Again I feel it. The presence of another, just beyond the veil. The sound of my heartbeat, the pulse of chi, echoes across the boundary.

The Heavenly Resonance pill isn't known to cause one to reverberate through reality. But, not since ancient times have arrays been used on this scale.

What secrets lie waiting to be uncovered are beyond me. All I know is that it's unsettling to advertise one's presence across dimensions.

The pill digests, its medicinal chi circulating throughout my physical and spiritual bodies.

I swallow uneasily. This part's never easy.

The vine in my soul stone seems excited for the coming feast. It will grow as my soul well grows. But, it will also consume the bits of my soul stone, the powder and shards, that the sundering of the Dragon's Scream creates.

I find myself feeling complicated in how I view the parasite. It will be some time before I enjoy the fruits of my labor for it. But, it will be worth it. I try to convince myself so at least.

The Dragon's Scream slides down my throat and I feel the penetrating tendrils rip through me inch by inch.

As my screams ascend into the heavens, tornadoes fall upon me.

The contest of wills between the heavens and I is more intense than the time before. The ruptures in space that had started to mend from the last time are as open wounds, bleeding aether and sucking down air and chi with voracious hunger.

What's gone is gone forever. Part of another world, another plane, a reality unknown. And what takes its place is mine.

The aether, an energy all its own. It is not spiritual, as chi is. But, something…. void.

I find that the aether embodies space. It creates space. Not emptiness. But, that which contains emptiness.

As I incorporate it into my soul body, I witness a change.

In the spirit world, chi appears as though it were white.

Immortals appear as great tears in reality that white chi swirls around endlessly.

When cut off from chi, we appear as air to others.

But, within the vessel of our souls, we can see it. The color of our soul. It's white.

This aether has a purple signature and, as I absorb it, my soul takes on the hue of a color I'm not used to.

The purple coloration is minor compared to the overwhelming white of my chi-filled soul. But, the change is there.

I've incorporated a new element into my spirit.

I find myself out of my depth. There are no teachings on aether, beyond its existence. A cultivator is immortal because of the spirit element, chi.

Does cultivating aether make me something other than immortal?

Whatever the consequences, I am consumed with consumption. This aether is too satisfying to allow Gaia to keep it to herself.

Reality bleeds while I scream. And I can't help but feel that the new mortals on the horizon don't know what to make of me.

Eventually, the chi storm ends. My cultivation calms and I take in a Heavenly Fortifying pill to recover from the devastation of my soul stone.

One party is quite happy with the experience. The gluttonous vine is growing beyond the constraints of my soul stone. Testing its place in my soul body.

I don't feel the parasite taking over. It only desires to feed and grow. And, when it matures, it will help me to grow.

The recovery takes a day and is incomplete.

My soul stone is a mess. Like a glass vase that's been dropped and glued back together.

The Immortal's Ascendance pill would help me quickly seal the cracks. But, a common pill is a far cry from a superior pill. And, a superior pill cannot compare with a perfect pill.

In this life, I do not have the luxury of a sect protecting me from the tribulation lightning that comes with creating perfection on this earthly plane.

And, there is much room for growth in my soul well. The wash basin has become a swimming pool.

My soul body can manifest a much greater size and level of force that it couldn't compare with before.

Which is good. Because there's a lot of work to do.

I look around in disgust and despair.

Tan sand and shards of black glass mingle across the flat plane for several miles beyond my place at the center.

This is worse than rolling a rock up a hill.

Regretfully, I begin my labors once more.

The task is routine and well-practiced. My castle without a roof begins to form.

It's quite a sight, as it always is. A wide field of black glass contained by walls of the same glittering substance.

The tribesmen stopped sending tribute one week. And, I began to think they'd learned the futility of the act.

But, this assumption of mine was vain hope.

Each tribe sent a group of a dozen men and women. They didn't come with anything.

I expected that they would seek an audience with me. But, they didn't.

Instead, they came a few hundred feet before the closed walls of my compound and sat down.

For the first day, I disregarded them. And the second and third.

Couriers ran from the camps to the groups of sitting people to bring supplies.

They weren't going away.

"What?" I ask with irritation, Chi lacing my voice.

I stand before them, quite cross.

A man from the second tribe and the rugged woman from the first come forward.

The man bows hand over fist while the woman glares at me.

"Your Excellency," the man begins before being interrupted by the woman of the first tribe.

"The sorceress continues to slaughter the people of the desert and all you do is cry and break your toys. When will you help us?"

I look at her, flabbergasted.

"Who the hell do you think I am?" I demand. "When did I ever give you the impression that I was going to solve your problems?"

The woman looks away.

"Y-Your Excellency, please," the man interjects. "We understand your stance very well. But, there really is no one else we can go to. The sorceress commands an army of the undead."

I feel myself catch on to his last word.

"What do you mean undead?"

The man continues. "The sorceress has been killing the tribes of the desert and raising their bodies to send them against us. We are losing this war where our every fallen becomes another enemy."

I think for a moment.

There are no arts that I know of to raise the dead, not immortal arts at least. You can't just pour chi into a body and get it to move.

Necromancy is a magic that is spoken of in legend. But, those legends precede the Calamity.

I think of my life before. I was consumed with the events of Fire Island during this time. And an army of the dead never rose to threaten the martial sects.

Could it be that this sorceress, though uniquely skilled, is a small-time actor who never rose to threaten the world as I knew it? Or….

A dark thought crosses my mind.

Still….

"I'm busy."

The woman looks at me with disdain before marching off to her group.

The man smiles placatingly, "We will remain nearby, Your Excellency. If…. If there is anything you need, we will do everything in our ability to get it for you."

As the man starts to walk away, I feel uncertain.

With a sense of dread, I say, "Herbs."

The man stops in his tracks.

He turns back with a look of hope on his face.

"I'm busy, so I won't run off to perform your errand. But, I'll take your tribute in the form of medicinal herbs."

I gnaw my lip. "So long as you are within range of this location, I will protect you. Should an army of the dead come forward, I will take care of it."

The man seems to process my words. I'm sure it's not everything the man could hope for. But, it's the best deal I'll make.

He smiles pleasantly, "We will bring you every herb we have."

As he rushes off to his group and then the camp beyond, I scratch the back of my head.

I don't want cooking herbs.

"Hah," I let out a long breath.

It might not be so bad, I think. What could an army of the dead do to me? Make me join them?

With dark thoughts, I return to my labors.

The petitioners don't seem to have decided my answer was good enough and remain sitting beyond my altar.

At least, with more herbs, I won't have to be so stingy with my cultivation.

The Dragon's Scream can be used after the array grows sufficient for my purposes. But, with a greater variety and volume of pills, I will be able to spend my time more effectively.

As the weeks pass, the herbs flow into my cosmos ring and I have many crafting options.

During the day, I make glass. And, at night, I cultivate my dao and absorb the massive volume of chi that is captured by my garden of life array.

Looking out at night, over the plane of shimmering glass, I feel that I could mistake myself for being lost at sea.

The glass becomes a mirror of the heavens. And, I recognize the duality of heaven and earth. Neither is independent of the other.

The heavens are as concerned with the events happening on Gaia as I am concerned with the stories of the heavens.

The space left void of the abomination continues to bring me unease. But, as I absorb the aether, I begin to feel my comprehension of this realm beyond heaven grow.

"You should be running," I say with chi-laced words. My only warning to the groups that gather just beyond my walls.

Once more, this night, I will war with reality itself. I will feast on the aether that colors my soul. And, I will break my toys.

There's always more work to be done.