The next day, as dawn barely broke, everyone gathered on the top floor of the inn. Xiao Kun summoned the Golden Dragon, which carried the group through the winter morning mist toward the Wushan Mountains.
“We’re starting to look like a proper team,” Xiang Xian said with a laugh, glancing around.
Unbeknownst to them, they now numbered four people and one bird—A Huang. Although Wu Yingzong was an unofficial member of the Exorcism Division, and Chaosheng’s status didn’t quite qualify him as an exorcist, the real heavy lifting fell to Xiang Xian and Xiao Kun. Still, it was far livelier than their time in Bianjing.
“Wow!” Chaosheng sat on the dragon’s back, gripping the dorsal fin as he peered downward. The mountains of the Shu Region differed greatly from the snow-capped Kunlun peaks; being amid these ranges offered an entirely different vista. In the depths of winter, the world below was a vast expanse of white. Morning clouds blended with fog, the mist weaving through the clouds. Ink-wash-like peaks rose and fell in layers, like strokes from an ancient painting. When Xiao Kun urged the dragon higher to break through, the massive mountain structures loomed vaguely in the vapor, inspiring awe at nature’s masterful handiwork.
It was Xiang Xian’s first time overlooking the Three Gorges from the air, and he felt his mind expand with delight.
“Look down there,” Xiang Xian said. “Fly along the southern bank of the Yangtze River.”
“You got it, Master! You’re the boss!” Xiao Kun mimicked a carriage driver, catching everyone off guard with his sudden jest. They all burst into laughter.
The Golden Dragon banked sharply in the air, descending against the howling winds. Xiang Xian compared the map in his hand and said, “It might be over there. What do you think?”
The sun had risen, and the peaks of the Wushan Mountains appeared faintly. Wu Yingzong knelt on one knee along the dragon’s spine, one arm around Chaosheng’s waist and the other shading his eyes as he peered into the distance. “That’s Qiyun Peak, not far from Goddess Creek. It’s shrouded in clouds and fog year-round, rarely revealing its true face.”
“Let’s go take a look.” Xiang Xian cross-referenced the map from Yao Ji’s letter and urged Xiao Kun on. Xiao Kun directed the Golden Dragon to descend toward the depths of the mountain ridges.
The area was desolate and uninhabited, with many spots untouched by humans for millennia. The Wushan Twelve Peaks were renowned worldwide for their treacherous beauty, yet even poets and literati who roamed vast rivers and mountains rarely ventured into the dense onshore jungles—they mostly admired from boats. Several peaks lay hidden within the ranges, invisible from the Yangtze, which explained why Qiyun Peak had few records.
The Golden Dragon hovered in the air, facing the clouds spreading in all directions. Xiang Xian matched the map’s illustration: the continuous mountains broke off here, encircling a forty-li-wide basin of peaks below which flowed Goddess Creek. Qiyun Peak resembled a massive whale lying atop the mountains, its head facing the Yangtze and its tail vanishing into the inland depths.
“I think this is it,” Xiang Xian said. “Look at those clouds.”
“Mm.” Xiao Kun placed a hand on the Golden Dragon’s head and closely observed the swirling clouds around Qiyun Peak. “They don’t seem naturally formed—like a protective barrier.”
“Are we looking for the Yao Clan’s former holy land?” Chaosheng asked.
“Yes,” Xiao Kun replied, surveying the terrain for a landing spot. “How much do you know about it?”
“Yuzhou told me,” Chaosheng said.
Xiang Xian: “Who’s Yuzhou?”
“A dragon,” Chaosheng explained. “He lives in Yaojin Palace—our neighbor Big Brother.”
Xiang Xian: “???”
Chaosheng always blurted out whatever came to mind, leaving Xiang Xian thoroughly confused until Xiao Kun clarified. Xiang Xian finally grasped the gist: the Yao Clan had once been unified under a Demon King. This matched what he’d read in the Exorcism Division’s histories—ancient chroniclers hadn’t exaggerated much.
Legends from the eras of Emperor Yu and King Tang spoke of the earliest Yao Clan gathering around their Demon King in some region, though records of the exact location were lost. During the Sui and Tang dynasties, their holy land was Yaojin Palace deep in the Taihang Mountains—Yuzhou the dragon’s old home. In Tang times, the Yao Clan was ruled jointly by the Phoenix Bright King, Peacock Great Bright King, and Great Peng King, known as the Three Kings Era.
After the An-Shi Rebellion, the Yao Clan’s deep involvement in mortal affairs led to upheavals. A new Demon King took power and relocated the holy land to Bashu. Years later, Ba She became the next Demon King.
Many records vanished amid the wars following Zhu Wen’s usurpation of Tang—even the Great Liao Demon-Exorcism Division lacked them.
Xiang Xian had only heard vague mentions from his Master; the Kaifeng Exorcism Department’s archives weren’t as extensive as the Liao’s.
“Hey,” Xiang Xian said, stroking A Huang on his shoulder. “Is Yaojin Palace where you used to live? Do you remember?”
A Huang didn’t respond, merely gazing toward the wilds of the Wushan Mountains.
“Are you a Phoenix?” Chaosheng reached out tentatively, and A Huang leaned in, allowing the touch.
“Maybe?” Xiang Xian said to A Huang. “Do you think you are?”
“I don’t know. I remember nothing. Maybe not—that was just a joke we used to make. Xiang Xian, stop saying I’m a Phoenix.” A Huang buried his head under his wing and fell silent.
Xiang Xian: “Don’t mind it, A Huang. What you are doesn’t change anything for me. We’re just brainstorming to figure out your origins.”
Xiao Kun said, “Its feathers carry True Fire Power.”
Chaosheng: “I can’t tell either.”
