“Be careful these days. The sect’s seals have been acting up—something big may be coming.”
After the senior brother’s warning, worry spread through the ranks. Feng Yunxi and the others exchanged troubled looks.
“Senior Brother, is it true the seal over Zhushan is cracking?” someone asked.
“It’s worse than that,” the senior brother answered. “There’s a stream of potent spiritual energy pouring from another peak. It’s drawing countless demons and malignant spirits like moths to a flame. If it continues, the villages below will pay the price.”
“Potent spiritual energy?” Yunxi frowned. Her heart did a small, involuntary flip. Lately she had been having the same dream every night: a shadow of the Demon Lord Zhushan and a woman whose face she could never quite make out—yet who felt unbearably familiar.
She hesitated. Should she tell them about the dream? Maybe she was only imagining connections where none existed.
“Our master is away on an urgent errand,” the senior brother continued. “He sent word that we must descend at once and help the people drive off the spirits, or else there will be slaughter.”
“I’ll go!” Third Senior Brother Kong Ze stepped forward first. “We’ve trained in the mountains to save the world. If the people suffer, it’s our duty to descend and cleanse the land.”
Yunxi looked at Kong Ze and immediately raised her hand as well. “Take me with you. I’ll go—please. It’ll be good experience. I swear I won’t be a burden.”
The senior brother cast her a doubtful look. “Yunxi, your cultivation is still weak. This descent will be dangerous. Stay in the sect and help with the chores.”
“I can do it!” she insisted. “Let me come. I can help.”
At last he relented, but not without drilling one instruction into her head. “Stick to Kong Ze. Do not wander off.”
And so they went down the mountain, a small party of disciples headed for a village plagued by unrest. But when they passed through a stand of trees, a veil of mist closed around them. Chaos erupted—voices, flashes of spirit light—and Yunxi found herself separated from the others.
“Senior Brother! Kong Ze! Where are you?!” she shouted, panic rising as the woods pressed in around her.
“I’ve heard cultivators’ flesh is delicious,” a voice hissed from the fog.
A giant python lunged from the underbrush, maw open. Yunxi froze. She fumbled with her hand seals, throwing out a flurry of spells in a blind, desperate hope. Nothing landed. Her charms scattered harmlessly against the snake’s tough scales.
“Senior Brother! Kong Ze!” The words tore out of her—she had never faced such a beast. Her breath came quick. Magic for a little disciple was all neat patterns and careful power; panic made her hands clumsy and blind.
Just as the python struck, a sweep of black mist slammed into it, sending the serpent skidding aside. It thrashed and then lay still.
Yunxi stared, stunned, and looked up.
A man in a black robe advanced from the fog. Tall, straight-backed, his presence carried a dangerous gravity. His brows were like drawn swords, his eyes striking, his mouth firm. He was handsome in a way that made the heart race and caution rise at once.
“You saved me—thank you!” Yunxi dropped into a bow, cheeks burning.
The man’s gaze flicked over her; his eyes were deeper than the mist. “You’re a disciple of the Liu Xian Sect, aren’t you? Your robes give you away.”
She blinked. He knew her sect. “Yes. We’re here to drive off the demons.”
“To drive off demons?” His smile was small, and it sounded like amusement. “You nearly became that snake’s dinner.”
She bristled. He was mocking her—she could feel it. “I— I could have handled it. I was just startled. If I’d had a moment, I’d have killed it. Really.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze behind her. Yunxi smelled it then: a thicker, colder odor of demon qi than before. The hair at the nape of her neck prickled.
She turned—and saw another python coiling in the gloom. At once a childish idea flared: this must be the mate of the first snake, come for revenge.
Her knees nearly gave out. The truth of her earlier bravado revealed itself as a lie; she had no power to face a thousand-year beast. If not for him, she would already be gone.
“Not so brave now, little one?” he teased.
Yunxi deflated, then lifted her chin in stubborn shame. “All right, I lied. I’m not as strong as I said. I’m only a half-trained disciple. Laugh at me if you want.”
He didn’t laugh. Instead he reached out and ruffled her hair once, gentle as if he didn’t mean to startle her. “Cultivation isn’t achieved in a day. Be patient.”
Something in the words slipped past the usual lectures from masters and brothers—into her ears and down into her chest—where it settled and soothed. Yunxi found herself unexpectedly calmed.
“What should I call you? Who are you? How are you so strong?” questions tumbled out of her. He felt strangely familiar—an odd, aching recognition she couldn’t place.
“Zhushan.” He said it simply.
Her heart tightened as if gripped by fingers. “Zhushan?”
He nodded once, almost disinterested. “Yes.”
“You’re—are you the Demon Lord Zhushan?” Her voice rose despite herself. The name was infamous; their sect had sealed the Demon Lord long ago. He shouldn’t be standing here, smiling in human robes.
He chuckled, an odd, self-amused sound. “If you want to think so, think so.”
“I knew it,” Yunxi kept talking, as if spilling words could steady her. “If you were the Demon Lord, you wouldn’t have—you wouldn’t have saved me.”
“Perhaps.” He’s smile softened. “Perhaps names are only that—names.”
Then, almost casually, he drew out a black, iron-ribbed fan and offered it to her. It throbbed with a faint, ashen spiritual aura.
“You carry this?” Yunxi peered. The fan seemed slightly familiar, yet she could not remember ever owning it.
“Returning what belongs to its owner,” he said.
“This fan is mine?” she asked, puzzled. “I don’t remember—”
“I remember,” he replied.