Time travels ever onward in this perpetual cycle I've created for myself. The crafting of black glass has grown both easier and more complicated with every iteration I labor on it. And the chi storms that I summon when I use the Dragon's Scream pill have been lingering long after the cultivation session ends.

I realize that it is not I that generates this effect. But rather, it is the growing shadow upon the tan sand that surrounds me for miles. The tons upon tons of black spirit glass shards mingle with the natural quartz crystal. All blown apart and away from my laboriously crafted arrays during my violent cultivation sessions.

The spirit glass dust retains its function, absorbing the chi of the heavens, even without placement in the array.

In a way, this region has become a lightning rod for the vortices of ripped space that torments the region of the Desert of Desolation. There is a conflict between the black sand and the chi storms, each trying to conquer and absorb the other. In this whirlwind of chi, the mortals aren't faring well.

The groups that gather before my black glass altar continue their petitions for aid. Not all are satisfied by my protection. They want me to purge the desert of the sorceress and her undead legions.

I am unconcerned. Even offering them my protection was a step in a dangerous direction.

Still, no challenge from the sorceress has come. No undead army marching on the camps beyond the horizon. Of which there are now, annoyingly, two more.

They've encircled me and lie across the dunes. They are beyond sight, but I can still sense them. And should an army attack them, I will sense that too.

The price for my protection is simple, herbs. The medicinal herbs that the desert provides are not particularly plentiful. But, they are useful to me all the same.

I don't have to be stingy with the pills I make and can spend most nights cultivating with their aid.

The offerings come weekly. And with four tribes offering their protection fee at their own time, I get new stock every other day.

It's a bit of an unequal arrangement. But then, they never turned it down. I just wonder what it will be like to fight the walking dead, should the sorceress attack.

Many months have passed since I came to the Desert of Desolation. And, it's been at least a year since the nomads of the first tribe settled in my periphery.

I wonder how they managed for so long without seeking new watering holes. But, they make do. And, the herbs keep coming.

"Immortal!"

Huh? I'm surprised to hear myself called out like this. They always wait for me to come.

"Hah," I sigh as I let the molten glass I'd been crafting fall into a puddle. I suppose they've reached the end of their patience with our arrangement.

I take my time walking the distance, the annoying fellow bellowing the whole time.

I come to the perimeter of my twelve-foot-tall black glass wall and casually hop over it.

Seeing my arrival, the young man stops yelling and bows hand over fist.

I appraise the man. His features are dark, with sun-baked skin. His black hair is bound in a ponytail. And his dark eyes, as they turn up to meet my own, show a will I'm not used to seeing.

"What?" I ask, not quite annoyed.

The tan man lowers his eyes while maintaining his hand over his fist bow.

"Master, please teach me the art of cultivation."

I feel myself deflate. I suppose it was only a matter of time before this happened again.

"I do not want a disciple."

I turn to leave, my position clear.

"Immortal!" the man bellows.

I turn back in annoyance. "I'm right here, dammit. Stop yelling."

The young man drops his bow. His feigned respect forgotten.

"Immortal," he says in a lower, yet still loud, voice. "You will not face the sorceress. Some say that you're a coward. That every few months you cry out knowing this truth."

His accusation sounds like a child trying to pick a fight.

I can't help but feel myself chuckle.

"And what if I am a coward?" I ask, not even bothering to sound angry.

His lip curls derisively.

"Then you need someone with more courage to do what you will not."

I look off into the distance.

"Okay," I say. "Go fight her."

The tan man scowls.

"Master," he growls, "teach me that I may do so."

I look at the man, my mood complicated. Jack had shown much more respect. And, he had been an immortal when we first met. This kid doesn't know how high heaven reaches.

"Sure," I say after some time. "I'll teach you."

The dark-skinned man seems somehow unsure about my acceptance. But, he returns to bowing.

I reach out with my soul body and pick the man up.

For the first time, his arrogance fades into fear.

I turn and jump up and over the wall of my altar.

I can sense the alarm in the man as he feels himself, seemingly, flying through the air. But, all it is is jumping.

On the other side of the wall, a new change comes over the young man. Wonder.

For a thousand feet before us, a pristine floor of beautiful black glass expands to walls beyond.

Under the full intensity of the sun, the glass radiates with an intense heat that even the sand beyond can't compare with. We're in an oven.

The tan man starts perspiring immediately.

"M-Master," he manages. "I…. I-"

I have a crooked smile on my face as I look at him.

He looks vainly behind, to the wall we just passed. For him, it is impenetrable.

Fear seems to come over the man.

As he begins to speak, I grow tired of torturing him and spread my soul body out and over him. Cooling Yin energy returns his condition to normal.

But, despite being spared boiling, the man doesn't show much gratitude.

"Master," he says resiliently. "Why have you created this place?"

It strikes me that, in all this time, he's the first of the tribespeople to see inside the walls. Maybe from a distance, they could have known that it was all black glass. But, being inside is a different experience.

"Come with me," I say as I begin walking.

Wordlessly, my arrogant disciple follows.

Soon, we're walking over the thousands of overlapping circles that come together to form my garden.

His eyes are critical and confused by the geometrical patterns that form.

Before he can come up with another question, we come to the center of the array.

"Sit," I point to the empty circle at the center of the array.

He swallows the lump in his throat and sits in the lotus position at the center of the array. His breathing becomes ragged and his back bends. The weight of chi falling upon this one central space is not insignificant.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He struggles to keep his eyes on me. And, I watch him for a moment.

It's not as simple as just being surrounded by chi to become immortal. The folding of chi within one's soul to form the soul stone is a foreign concept to a mortal.

In my time in Divided Fates, I had the cultivation manual 'Cultivating the Constellations' to guide me in my formative period. This man, whose name I don't even care to know yet, gets a master who's more than a little annoyed. He'll have to sink or swim on his own.

I point to locations on my body and say, "Root, sacral, solar plexis, heart, throat, third eye, crown."

Then I point to just below my belly button, "Dantian. Focus on this."

His eyes widen as I turn from him and return to my glass molding.

The hours of the day carry on as I work. And, my disciple struggles to last inside the circle for minutes at a time.

In the beginning, he would glare at me defiantly between cultivating efforts. Then he settled for collapsing to the floor when he needed a break. But, he always returned to the task.

As night falls, I end my labors. When I come upon the man I see him straining against the energies that surround him. His lips are chapped and crusted blood colors his nose. Still, he isn't done.

I pull out a flask of water and dangle it out in front of him. Noticing the offered water, he crawls out of the central node of the array and accepts it.

He seems to not be all there in the head, so I lift him and carry him out of the array. And, he's asleep before I even come close to setting him down for the night.

It won't be a restful night's sleep. He's got no pillow and his bed is hard glass. But, I don't concern myself with him anymore.

I return to the array and take my place at its center. What to him must have felt like being buried alive is for me rejuvenating. In me, there is a place for the chi to go. Into the depths of folded chi that my soul stone contains.

As the months have passed, and I have cycled through destruction and renewal, my soul well has grown deeper. It is not a soul sea comparable to the past. But, in some ways, it is more profound.

The aether, that I absorb from the fresh wounds in reality, weaves itself into the chi of my soul. Where chi must be folded to create space within it, aether expands the space.

The battle to force chi to remain within me is not as fierce as it once was. And I can retain more without restricting its flow. At least, not so much as I had to before.

I think about the potential for when my soul stone is mended. In the flawed state of an ascended immortal's soul stone the effort to turn it flawless is like forging a sword. Chi is used to pound out the impurities of the stone over and over again. But if, with the presence of aether, I can build channels within my soul stone. Then, perhaps I will be able to direct the energy more freely.

Such thoughts get away from me. All I know is that I have changed my dao.

With space added to my spirit, the nature of my soul has changed. My way has shifted. The shen of my consciousness is influenced by my new energy pattern.

The heavens mirror my change. The gods are moving.

Lok, the infernal god is not content with his place in the hells. The souls that he consumes are just as polluted as his own. He wants fresh fuel for his fire. Beneath the surface of this world, in the realms below, his army prepares.

His mate, Amri, longs for him. But, knows that her fire cannot cleanse the fel that he has created. She dances in the darkness. And, in the shadows, many eyes gleam with expectation.

In another part of the sky, Vritas plans her return to glory. Chaos and Order are hers and she will command them. Great wings spread out across the heavens, one of light and the other dark.

I don't truly know which armies were hers during the Calamity. But, I can guess. She is a figure that few can match, dauntless.

Her mate is missing from the stories of the heavens. Which means either she is a younger god or her mate is dead. The fury of a goddess over the death of her mate is not something I want to think about.

For all the legendary, or mythical, figures the heavens tell the tales of, one is missing. The Creator. His story is not written directly. But, through his influence on the rest.

Even with the absence of a constellation for the Creator, the signs are growing. There is a great fear falling upon the heavens, fear of the one who forged the world. It's not something I saw before the abomination fell. But now, it's obvious.

Before I can think too deeply about these matters, the sky brightens and the constellations depart.

While I meditated on the dao of the heavens, I accrued a great quantity of chi. The aether trickles in from the mending wounds in reality. But, the feast of aether will only come with screams.

I look to the sleeping youth. When he eventually succeeds in cultivating his soul stone, I wonder at the effect of the purple element on his soul. We're both in uncharted territory with our development. But, it's exciting in its way.

My disciple has yet to wake and I see no need to force him to begin. I merely set a couple of flasks of water by the central node and carry on with forging spirit glass.

When he wakes, he looks at me for a moment before turning to his task. Whether or not he's improved over the day before is lost on me. But, by the end of it, he's able to walk to the edge of the array under his power.

We don't speak as we trade places. But, his eyes aren't hostile. I wonder if he truly does consider me a coward. But, it's irrelevant to me. I have my agenda while he has his.

Either the man is a quick study or the array is particularly potent for turning a mortal into an immortal. But, in a few days, the man's an immortal. I think I might have made something revolutionary in the world of cultivators.

I look at him while he smiles and clenches his fists.

"So," I ask. "Are you ready to face the sorceress?"

He looks at me oddly, his eyes still trying to figure out what he sees. Before him is a gravity well of white chi violently swirling around and being consumed by a central point. Me.

He nods, oblivious.

"Thank you," He starts to depart. "….Master."

I watch, mostly amused. The young pup is still trapped in a well.

He departs my altar, jumping over the walls without much issue. Seems like he's riding high on his accomplishment.

Whatever comes of him is of little concern to me. I understand the ethics of master and student. But, the kid decided to walk away as soon as I gave him what he thought he needed.

It is a little bitter, though.

My array is in its final stages. The moment of its shattering is soon to be upon me. And, the heavens show their disapproval. The clouds gather. Not tribulation. Rather, frustration.

As night falls, I warn the few petitioners, who brave the chi storms, to flee and begin the process of consuming pills.

With the supply of herbs provided by the tribes, I've been taking the Heavenly Resonance pill alongside the Immortal Ascendance pill almost nightly. With the ascendance pills, my soul stone has mended many cracks. But, every few months I do this over again.

The Dragon's Scream is the fastest way to expand my soul well. And, the depth to which that well goes is not quite unfathomable.

I could settle here. I could ascend. It would just be a matter of time. But, one's soul is only young once. Once I've ascended, my growth will slow. The qualitative leap from one stage to the next is exponential based on the soul of the lower immortal.

If I ascend now, I will have reached my peak. And, there's still time to take the Millenial Honing pill. I have yet to face my karma. But, I'm not ready to stop inviting it.

As I resonate, I take my Dragon's Scream. And the world is colored purple with the aether that bleeds through reality.

As dawn comes, I feel the last scream escape me. It sucks.

But, I'm done at least.

As my calm returns to me, I look out on the much blacker sand. Such is my life.

My consciousness expands beyond my vicinity. The horizon is alive with life…. and death.

I feel a sinking sensation. I want to just collapse into the dust. If I could, I'd like to sleep.

But, they're dying just beyond my vision.

The sorceress attacked. And, she chose the worst moment. Or best, for her.

I'm already bleeding. My soul stone is brittle and breaking. The chi that I've consumed is trapped by its excess.

Truly, I'm weak.

I stand and look at the conflict. Only one of the camps is fighting. But, it's desperate.

I summon my flying sword and fly with tremendous speed. Weak as I am, my soul well is profound.

It isn't long before I see them.

Like ants fighting grasshoppers, the bodies form a line just beyond their tents. The tribespeople are falling a handful at a time. And their enemy, a mass of bodies many times the number of the defenders.

I don't slow as I fly into the crowd of the dead. And, what I see scares me.

These zombies aren't soldiers. They're men, women, and children. Innocent people whose bodies are green and black from decay. Ugly wounds can be seen on their faces, throats, torsos, and everywhere else that can be torn.

I look at a man as he charges me. His mouth hangs open as sees me with dead eyes. The only wound, a line across his neck. The dried black blood stains what could have been a decent shirt once.

My flying sword comes to my hand and I cut through his waist. The body falls into two pieces, both of which continue to move toward me. I have no time to concern myself with the remains as ten more undead fall upon me.

I push out with my soul body. But, realize that the necrotic energy that permeates their bodies has a subtractive effect on my soul. Like acid eating away flesh.

Pain and alarm flood my mind as I realize that I had underestimated the threat posed by the sorceress.

My soul body retreats into me and I harness it to refine ki, the strengthening form of chi. The ki bolsters my limbs and flows into my sword.

The mass of bodies never waits for me to recover and, as a flood, rolls forward.

For the first time in a long time, I'm not sure how I'm going to survive the threat. But, that doesn't change the fact that I have to.

I dance away from the bodies, slicing vertically, horizontally, and diagonally. Empowered by sword ki, there is little resistance in the flesh of the dead. But, every slash corrodes the ki. Fortunately, this energy is separated from my body and so does not cause me pain.

Screams spread from the line of tribals. My entry into the battle hasn't ended their struggle.

My struggle continues and I cut down hundreds. Only to have hundreds more flow toward me.

The necrotic energy taxes me with every exchange. And I find myself dripping with cold sweat. This is horror unlike what I'd known facing the daeva.

Incomprehensible as the winged demigods were, they lived and breathed. They exulted in conflict, and I could respect that to some degree. But, the dead exult in nothing. All they do is consume.

Shit, I think. It's even worse.

This hunger. This consumption. It's not of this world.

I never heard of an army of the dead in my life before, because it wasn't there. This is the abomination.

All of it.

"HaAhahAhaA!"

The dead start laughing in harmony. And, it's a terrible sound. Booming and gurgling. And mocking.

The undead cease their movement.

"I cOuld HaVE waIteD," the collective says.

I swallow fearfully.

"CoUld HavE WaITeD For YoU to GRow FAT!"

The mass of bodies steps, as one, toward me.

I jump away from the group, ascending into the air before falling outside the mob.

"YoU JUsT haD to EAT!"

I wonder at the effect of a chi bomb on the monsters. But, can't feel that it would be very effective. Unless…

"BuT YoU seNT AnOTheR!"

My disciple wasn't as successful as he thought he'd be.

Guilt stirs in me. I wasn't fond of him and we barely qualified as master and disciple. But, he must have been killed.

"I wILl EAT YoU NOW!"

Satisfied that it was heard, the mass of undead turn from the line of defending tribesmen and rush to me. All I can do is dance back as, time and again, they draw in on me.

But, I'm not fighting them. I'm just earning space in the open desert. Further away from the tribe in the hopes that what I'm planning works.

Deep within my soul stone resides a pocket of condensed aether. The very essence of space. And a resource I have very little experience with.

The knowledge of forming a chi bomb is in my mind. Compress chi within a membrane of ki. Upon reaching critical mass, the chi bomb explodes violently. And, destroys most things nearby.

The same concept can be applied to aether, I hope.

Until I learn more about aether, I have to form the membrane with ki. It should work as aether can be contained within the chi of my soul stone.

I focus on a point over the heads of the monsters, ki traps aether as it condenses. More and more. I deplete my reserve of aether rapidly as space compresses.

Rapidly, I realize that something is wrong. The membrane is failing. But, not because it can't contain the aether.

I've just torn a hole in reality.

All at once, the membrane fails and a great wind picks up. The zombies fall upwards to the hungry mouth of a growing black abyss.