Feng Yuxin stood outside the gates of Cloudpeak City. Even from here she could see the city’s landmark piercing the sky — the Cloudpeak Inn — its silhouette reminding her oddly of a modern skyscraper.
There were two ways back to the Western Song Kingdom: through Cloudpeak City, or by cutting straight through the vast Cloudpeak Forest beside it. For anyone lacking true strength, the forest was a one-way ticket to doom. It stretched farther than a few days’ travel, its beasts were vicious, and the nights were when they grew truly terrifying. So Cloudpeak City was the only sensible route — and the inn in the center of town was the most recognizable building for miles.
She was about to step toward the gate when her feet wouldn’t move. It felt as if something had glued her soles to the ground; the harder she tried, the more useless the effort. She frowned and tried again, forcing her legs, but they wouldn’t lift.
“Great,” Feng Yuxin muttered under her breath, wondering if she’d stumbled into some prank. People flowed past the gate and glanced at her; standing here immobile made her look foolish.
She could feel something inside her body — a strange power locking her legs in place. It was a sensation she’d never experienced before. Her mind flicked back to the phantom phoenix that had flashed into the space between her brows earlier. “What are you?” she demanded aloud. “Why won’t you let me into the city?”
No answer came. Her eyes narrowed. She clenched her hands until her knuckles went white and added, with cold threat in her voice, “If you don’t speak up, I’ll risk killing you with me. I’ll gouge you out of my brow and smash you into dust.”
At that, the thing in her brow shivered. The grip on her legs loosened, and she felt that same force nudging her sideways. Warily, she stepped aside. Her feet moved freely now — but only a short distance before she realized the path beside the gate narrowed into the route that led straight to Cloudpeak Forest.
“Is that what you want?” she snapped at the phantom, rage flaring. “You want me to go into the forest to die?”
She tried to stop. Her legs ignored her.
A compulsion seized her — stronger than before and urgent, as if time itself demanded haste. Panic prickled at her scalp. She didn’t believe in ghosts and superstition, but this felt like being puppeted by something alive.
The force drove her onward. Half an hour later she crossed under the forest’s low canopy and, the moment she did, a chorus of distant roars rolled through the trees. She twitched, instinctively looking back. At her feet the air seemed to change — like a thin, invisible line at the forest’s edge. Outside it, nothing. Inside, danger pressed close.
She tried to retreat. Her legs stayed frozen exactly as they had earlier at the city gate. “Damn it!” she cursed.
Originally she’d planned to return to Western Song, find the person who’d ruined her life and take revenge. Now some phoenix phantom had dragged her into the forest. There was no use throwing away her life here — she had to survive, get stronger over the next few days, and then go back with some leverage. Once she decided that, the trembling in her brow quieted — whether the specter calmed or she merely convinced it she wasn’t a pushover, she didn’t know — but she didn’t relax. Each step deeper set her nerves on edge.
The forest, dark and rank with the scent of damp leaves, soon split into a fork. She knew roughly where the path to Western Song lay — straight ahead — but the force that had seized her made her turn into the side trail.
She gritted her teeth. She had never felt so helpless in her former life. She’d only just arrived on this world; she had no idea why the phoenix-specter in her brow seemed determined to make her do things. Worse, it left her no room to resist.
No sooner had she entered the fork than something lunged from the undergrowth. Because she’d kept her guard up, she managed to sidestep; the beast’s jaws slammed shut on empty air. It blinked, surprised, then bared its teeth and charged again, furious.
Feng Yuxin didn’t have much — but she did have speed and a small dagger tucked in her pouch. She struck back. Her blade sliced shallow grooves across the creature’s hide; it screamed in anger and tore at the air. Her grin was a little wild. “Get mad,” she thought. “Get careless.”
Anger made it reckless. When it threw itself at her in fury, she seized the moment and launched herself onto its forehead, slamming it down hard. The impact crushed the beast’s skull; it thudded to the ground, dead.
They arrived then. Mo Xuanye came up with a windlike presence behind him and Windwing at his side, and they stopped to watch the last of the struggle. A shadow crossed Mo Xuanye’s deep gaze. Windwing’s eyes were wide, almost unbelieving: a woman with no trace of spirit energy had just killed a rank-one forest beast.