“Could we make it rain for them?” Chaosheng whispered into the night.
“One rain won’t help,” Xiao Kun said, rolling over. Xiang Xian thought him asleep, but he was still awake.
“Whoever it is,” Mu Qingshan said, “before heaven’s wrath, all must accept. That’s the world.”
Chaosheng sighed. Carefree by nature, he now felt compassion.
That night, everyone slept fitfully amid the cries outside. For the first time, Chaosheng rose at midnight to check, helpless and growing sadder.
“I remember you still have a small handful of Pine Nuts,” Xiao Kun said to Xiang Xian at dawn.
Xiang Xian grew wary. “No way. I gave you plenty already. After sharing with A Huang, only ten or so left. You want to steal them?”
“Fine.” Xiao Kun had wanted to say the Pine Nuts from Kunlun’s Garden Protecting Divine Beast could surely save lives.
“Here, two more,” Xiang Xian relented. “Eat up, summon Xiao Jin, and let’s get home.”
“Not for me,” Xiao Kun said. “For Great Song’s people.”
“No,” Xiang Xian replied. “Not enough to go around. These are for my parents.”
“Got it.” Xiao Kun smiled. They broke their fast with tea and fruit, slipping quietly out the back door at dawn to bid the old clerk farewell. The Golden Dragon shot skyward, startling everyone into kneeling prostrate.
The Golden Dragon flew east, departing the Qinling Mountains, entering Guanzhong en route to Kaifeng.
“It’s like this everywhere.” Chaosheng noticed Guanzhong’s land for the first time; the Golden Dragon flew low, passing groups of thirty or fifty refugees.
“Yeah,” Xiao Kun said. “Great drought—no helping it.”
Droughts cycled every ten or twenty years in the Central Plains and Qin lands, plus Yellow River floods—no true good years. Human power paled against heaven and earth. Even a free-flying Exorcist had limits.
“Where are they heading southwest?” Chaosheng asked.
“Into Shu,” Xiang Xian answered. “Bashu’s a land of fish and rice. Or south to Jingzhou, Dongting Lake.”
This was Hulü Guang’s first time past the pass into the interior; he was fascinated by Central Plains scenes, long legendary from Western Regions tales—now seen firsthand.
Heading east toward Bianjing, villages and towns finally showed green. The Yellow River roiled eastward amid gathering clouds and mists. Mount Song emerged through the haze, and Kaifeng City’s silhouette appeared in the ethereal vapor.
Xiao Kun landed the Golden Dragon ten li outside Kaifeng and switched to carriages. Before descending, they spotted throngs of refugees gathered outside the city walls, families fleeing south.
“Even here,” Chaosheng said.
“Home first,” Xiang Xian replied. “We’ll figure out aid later.”
Xiang Xian hired horses and led them toward Kaifeng. “Old Wu, go ahead and prepare food—quick, everyone’s starving.”
Wu Yingzong spurred his horse ahead with Hulü Guang to arrange things in the city. It was Qingming season; misty rains fell around Kaifeng, new green blanketing fields on all sides.
Entering the city, Kaifeng’s prosperity and grandeur struck anew.
In the lush spring clarity, pure qi shone bright—a scene of utter peace.
The city brimmed with tender yellows and greens from trees and grasses, accented by white cherries. Cherry petals drifted on the lakes. Clumps of azaleas pressed vivid color at the shores; wooden towers and tiled roofs hid in the haze, eaves faintly visible.
From Yuwang Platform to Rainbow Bridge, the open streets bustled with markets, boats and carriages streamed endlessly, fallen blossoms floated with the current. In the hazy mist, every home bloomed profusely, spring-calling banners hung out.
Kaifeng in spring: willows smoked the city, myriad plants in flower—clusters upon clusters, veiled in gauzy fog, not garish but elegantly refined.
Spring markets dangled kites large and small, plus Qingming paper figures from Shanliu.
Though faint from hunger, Chaosheng couldn’t help crowding close to look.
“Can’t buy that,” Xiang Xian said. “The little figures are burned for the dead! Come on, don’t look—tomorrow Old Wu’ll bring you back to shop.”
Wu Yingzong and Hulü Guang rode through East Market amid the throng.
“What a huge city! Dozens of Gaochangs at least!” Hulü Guang gaped; Kaifeng’s scale was unimaginable.
Wu Yingzong: “Memorize the way, follow me. I’ll take you for street food—these are Master’s favorites.”
“My first time in the capital was Qingming too,” Xiang Xian called back. “I was a total hick.”
Xiao Kun laughed. “Back to the Division first.”
Xiang Xian led them into the narrow alley. The Stone Lions guarding the gates called out familiarly.
“Lord Xiao and Lord Xiang are back!”
“They’re finally back!”
Xiang Xian waved them off. As he entered the front courtyard, Chaosheng voiced what he felt.
“Home at last!” Chaosheng rushed inside.
The three-month journey had brought too many battles; all were mentally and physically drained. Mu Qingshan surveyed the place approvingly.
“I live here too?” Mu Qingshan asked.
“Yeah,” Xiang Xian said. “Old Wu’ll rearrange rooms later.” He unstrapped the Wisdom Sword, tossed it casually—it landed center of the sword rack beneath the Mountain-Sea Bright Light plaque.
A Huang flew into the main hall, back to its perch.
Xiao Kun unbuckled the Pei Saber, returned it to place, kicked off his boots, and flopped onto the main couch.
“A theater troupe’s passing outside!” Chaosheng dashed back. “I wanna watch!”
“Old Wu’ll take you later,” Xiang Xian said. “Don’t bother me.” To Xiao Kun: “Be good, scoot over—make room for me.”
