Sunlight set the mountain afire with an ominous glitter. I gritted my teeth as I hauled myself up, just behind Captain Wenzhi as we clambered up the slope. Sweat trickled down my brow, my neck and back, as I dug my fingers into the
cold rock, to grip the slippery surface. I glanced down, the ground so far away that my head spun. For the hundredth time I assured myself that a fall in the Mortal Realm was unlikely to kill us, though how I wished I could summon a cloud now.
“We’re here.” Captain Wenzhi climbed onto a ledge.
The rest of us scrambled after him, with Archer Feimao the last to appear—flushed, his shining armor scuffed in
places. Had he fallen? Fortunately, he appeared unharmed.
At the end of the ledge loomed a dark entrance, high enough for us to walk through, unbowed. Xiangliu had chosen its home well. Not only was it protected from
magic, but this rocky terrain with its narrow paths and
tight openings made storming in with troops impossible.
Captain Wenzhi waited for us to gather before addressing us in a steady tone. “Be on your guard. Xiangliu is powerful and fast, its fangs are sharper than knives, and its skin is
protected by impenetrable scales. With nine heads, little
escapes its notice. And whatever you do, don’t look into its eyes.”
“Why?” I asked, already dreading his answer. “It can paralyze you.”
A tense silence fell over us, punctured by the shuffling of feet. It was of little surprise that this creature had evaded death for so long, even after earning the Celestial Emperor’s ire.
He continued, speaking slower now, “Focus your attacks on its underbelly, its most vulnerable part. That won’t kill it, but will cause it pain. Our aim is to distract and threaten it, until it unleashes its acid. That’s when our target will be exposed, that’s when the archers will strike. At my signal, we’ll attack in two groups, flanking and driving it toward
the entrance where the archers will station themselves.” His gaze shifted to Archer Feimao and me. “Don’t engage it unless you have to. Keep your arrows drawn, ready for the moment to strike. We won’t get many chances. Stay steady, aim well, fight together.”
As one, we bowed, our palms wrapped over our fists.
When we rose again, we stood a little straighter. I was
wound tight with tension as I glanced at the somber faces around me. This was no practice session that I could repeat whenever I wished. The slightest lapse would tilt the scales between life and death, and not just for me alone.
We left the safety of the sundrenched ledge, slipping into the cave. It was enormous, stretching so high I could not
see the ceiling through the dark. I stood with my back to the light, as did Archer Feimao a little farther away. I
inhaled deeply, almost gagging as the damp air hit my lungs—laced with salt, earth, and the stench of rotting flesh. Just ahead, Captain Wenzhi’s hand shot up in warning. He gestured toward the center of the cave,
submerged in inky water. The soldiers followed his lead, moving to the side, stepping over the bones that were
scattered with an almost cruel abandon.
I squinted, making out a large silhouette huddled in the water, so still there was barely a ripple around it. Was the creature asleep? I wiped my palms, damp with sweat,
before drawing an arrow. I had shot countless targets of metal, wood, and stone—though never a creature of flesh and blood. Swallowing hard, my eyes met Captain Wenzhi’s. I nodded, as did Archer Feimao, signaling our readiness. As the captain’s low whistle pierced the silence, the soldiers charged forward, their feet pounding the ground.
Red lights flickered to life like fireflies dancing over the water. Except these were embedded in heads which reared up as Xiangliu uncoiled to its full height, almost that of a
young cypress. Nine heads sprang from its barrel-like body, each plucked from a nightmare, each darting with a life of its own. Eight were covered in black scales with flaming eyes and bone-white fangs, glistening with a foaming liquid. One had the skin of a fair immortal, except for the dark lines spread across like cracked porcelain. Lips parted, showing graying teeth, and where its eyes should
have been were smooth hollows—like holes in the ground, not filled all the way through. It gave me the eerie
sensation of an immortal’s face which had been peeled off and draped over the serpent’s like a glove.
Ice slid down my spine as I clutched my bow tighter.
Soldiers dashed into the water, raising their swords. The creature’s jaws snapped ferociously as it wrapped its
spiked tail around those nearest, flinging them against the rock wall. They collapsed with a crash, their cries ringing in my ears. As one of Xiangliu’s heads lunged down, its fangs sank into a soldier’s neck. He screamed in agony,
slashing his blade across the serpent’s scaly face. “No!” Captain Wenzhi shouted.
It was too late, Xiangliu’s heads swarming to form a
shield around its core, like the petals of a flower closed into a bud. The serpent leapt out of the water with surprising
agility, drops spattering all around. Cold and reeking of death.
The soldiers pressed on. One thrust her sword into the creature’s stomach. Xiangliu shrieked, a feral sound, as it slithered toward the entrance—rising higher until it
towered over Archer Feimao and me. Against the sunlight streaming in, its scales gleamed like onyx.
Fear cut my heart, not the insidious prickle of the unknown, but stabbing terror for my survival. A primitive instinct took over, my ears deaf to Captain Wenzhi’s warnings, my fingers releasing the bowstring as the arrow sprang free. Even as it struck, I cursed myself for not
staying hidden as instructed. For drawing the serpent’s
attention instead of emerging at the opportune moment to strike.
One of Xiangliu’s heads bent to rip out my arrow, tossing it aside almost contemptuously. The rest fanned out around me, those glowing eyes boring into mine. I froze, only now noticing the tiny, pearlescent scales covering the eye sockets of its core, barely perceptible in the dark.
“Look away!” Archer Feimao yelled, gesturing wildly at me.
I stumbled back just as a soldier hurled her spear into the serpent’s stomach. Xiangliu’s cry pierced the air as its
middle head reared up, eyelids snapping open to unveil two burning coals beneath. Its core! Xiangliu’s eight jaws parted, spewing a frothing, greenish liquid across the cavern, acrid and sour. Those struck screamed in anguish,
falling to the ground where they writhed in agony. The acid sprayed onto my arms, foaming as it ate through the cloth, blisters blooming over my skin like crimson poppies. I
would have screamed till I was hoarse, yet the searing agony—that of my skin being peeled from my flesh—
snatched the air from my lungs.
Grinding my jaws until I thought they would crack, I fumbled for another arrow, drawing it through my bow.
Archer Feimao stared at me, signaling for me to attack— but I was trembling too much from terror and pain. Doubt raged through me that I would miss, that I would fail,
letting down everyone who depended upon me. Archer Feimao’s arrow streaked forward—just as those glowing orbs vanished—the shaft slamming against the serpent’s eyelids and shattering to fragments.
Nine mouths curved into bone-chilling smiles, those red eyes gleaming with malice as they fixed upon us. Soldiers bolted forward as Xiangliu’s tail whipped out, slamming
them aside. Archer Feimao and I backed away, but two of the creature’s heads lunged out and sank their fangs into his shoulders. He screamed, doubling over in agony, blood pouring from his wounds.
I wanted to buckle over and hurl out the contents of my stomach. To weep for his pain and those of the others,
battered by this vicious creature. But terror sealed my
throat shut; I could not even whimper. Xiangliu slid closer, one of its heads arching toward me with a languid grace. So close, I could see myself reflected in those crimson orbs.
A strange fatigue sank over me. My grip on the bow
slackened as it slipped from my fingers. The serpent’s eyes flared as it opened its mouth. Pure white fangs dripped
with foaming liquid. As its foul breath pierced my daze, I recoiled, blinking in confusion. My mind cleared as I
swooped down to retrieve my bow.
Someone shouted—Captain Wenzhi—racing toward us, his sword arcing high. He hacked at the serpent’s belly as Xiangliu shrieked in rage, its heads swiveling to him now.
“The target!” he shouted, as he raised his shield to fend off the creature’s snapping jaws.
Those pearlescent eyelids flicked open. Red-hot coals flickered to life once more, embers in the dark. The monster’s jaws parted, spraying acid which splattered on my hands, a little across my cheek where it burned and
stung like fire and ice. Black waves of agony swept over my
consciousness, dragging me under . . . yet the sight of
Captain Wenzhi battling the monster lit a fierce resolve in me to not let him down again.
My leg muscles clenched as I struggled to hold my ground, fighting the urge to gag from the stench of
scorched flesh. Plucking two arrows from my quiver, I drew them through the string. Xiangliu’s head snapped back, my arms wavering as I fought to get a clear shot—my gaze
fixing on its eyes of flame as all else blurred into the background. My arrows tore through the air, striking with a sickening squelch.
It stilled, eight pairs of ruby eyes blinking rapidly. Just when I thought I had failed, that I had missed—a great shudder rippled through its body as its heads rolled back,
its necks bunching up as it collapsed onto the ground. Dust billowed in the air.
The sudden silence was startling, devoid of the screams and gasps, the rip of flesh. We exchanged stunned glances, in disbelief that the horror had ended. That we were alive.
Feimao slapped me on the back, his grin morphing into a grimace as he clutched his shoulder. Someone laughed,
another cheered. A wooden smile stretched across my face even though I did not feel like celebrating. My arms were
blistered raw, but my insides knotted at the sight of Captain Wenzhi. The parts of his body I could see were crusted with injuries far worse than mine.
“I’m sorry.” My voice was hoarse as I looked at Feimao
and the other wounded soldiers. “I missed the first chance, I lost my nerve. If I hadn’t, if I—”
“Archer Xingyin, stop apologizing.” Captain Wenzhi
sounded stern, though not unkind. “No battle is perfect; few things go as planned. What matters is that Xiangliu is dead and we all walk out of here today.”
He scrutinized my injuries, his lips tightening—in disapproval, I thought. Instead of admonishing me, he
pulled out a small jasper bottle, scattering several drops of
a yellowish liquid onto my arms. The soothing scent of mint and herbs cut through the foul air, a coolness seeping into my skin as the pain subsided to a dull throb.
“This only numbs it.” He passed me the bottle. “Don’t try to heal yourself. Xiangliu’s acid is laced with venom that needs to be treated properly. When we return, I’ll send a healer to you.”
“Send one to yourself, too. You’re in worse shape than me.” I nodded toward his wounds.
My legs wobbled then, belying my tough words as I sank to the ground. Struck by a wave of dizziness, I pressed my forehead against my arms. We had won, yet where was the
exhilaration upon striking my target? There was undeniable relief that it was over, yes, but it was tangled with this
clawing tightness in my chest. Was it pity? For the creature whose life I had taken? Even worse, and buried deeper, was there . . . shame? That I had killed so easily. And that I
would do so again.
Captain Wenzhi crouched down beside me. “It gets easier,” he said, as though he could read my thoughts.
“I’m afraid of that, too,” I admitted haltingly.
“Xiangliu devoured countless mortals. If not stopped, he would have killed more.”
His words gave me comfort. At least enough for my
breathing to slow and my tension to ease. Staggering to my feet, I glanced down at the serpent’s body. Blood trickled
from its eyes, seeping into the ground. It was a monster— not because of its appearance—but what it had done.
Grasping onto that, something hardened inside me. I would not mourn what I would do again, for as many times as I
had to.
Just then, a strange sensation tugged at the edge of my consciousness. Swinging around, I glimpsed something bright, deep within the cave—only visible now the late sun shone through at this angle.
“Captain Wenzhi, what’s that farther in?”
His gaze followed mine. “Is it the glare from the light?” “I don’t think so. Do you feel anything, coming from
there?” I asked.
When he shook his head, I bit my lip, wondering if I was mistaken. Yet there it was still, that pull on my mind. That faint, elusive awareness.
“I’ll inspect it and make my way back later,” I decided.
“I’ll join you. What if Xiangliu has a sibling?” He cracked a smile.
I shuddered. “As long as it doesn’t eat mortals, we can leave it in peace.”
We slipped through the narrow passageway at the end of the cave, crossing a shallow stream before emerging in a cavern. A shaft in the ceiling allowed the sunlight through unhindered, striking a heap of glittering treasure. Ropes of pearls, jade ornaments, and gems the size of my fist were piled onto the ground, as carelessly as though they were twigs, leaves, and stones.
“What is this?” I asked, finding my voice.
“Plunder from Xiangliu’s victims?” Captain Wenzhi bent down to inspect a few of the items. “No, some of these are from our realm. Xiangliu must have brought them here.”
Picking up a small chest, I flipped its lid open. Inside lay a gold necklace studded with chunks of amber.
He lifted it up. “An amulet of Earth magic.” “How do you know?” I asked curiously.
“Amber is a sacred treasure of the trees,” he explained, dropping it back into its box. “I’ll present this to His
Celestial Majesty.”
We opened a few more chests, tossing aside a
magnificent necklace of rubies, a smooth orb of lapis lazuli thickly veined with gold, and a silver hair ornament shaped like a wind chime. When I ran my fingers over it, a tinkling melody filled the cavern.
I gestured toward the gleaming horde. “What should we do with all this?”
Immortals had little need for material wealth apart from ornamentation or vanity. Magic, rank, and bloodlines—
these were the true determinants of power in the Celestial Kingdom.
Captain Wenzhi shrugged. “I’ll bring a few pieces for Their Celestial Majesties’ collection, and each soldier is welcome to souvenirs from a hard-won battle. As for the rest, feel free to dispose of them as you wish.”
It was then I saw it, a large wooden box in a corner of the cave, its simplicity a stark contrast to the priceless treasures surrounding it. As I approached it, the unseen
tug on my mind grew stronger—like sensing an immortal’s aura, one which called to me alone. Bending down, I pried the lid off, my pulse racing as I stared at what lay within: a bow strung with shining gold cord and carved of green jade. A dragon, from its magnificent head at the tip,
arching to its tail at the lower limb. When I touched the
cool stone, a thrum of power surged through me like I had thrust my arm through a raging waterfall. Something
clicked inside me, as though I’d found something I did not realize I had lost. Lifting the bow, I drew back its string,
almost dropping it when a frail beam of light formed between my fingers. It did not hurt, emitting instead a pleasant tingle that crackled before it vanished.
“Sky-fire,” Captain Wenzhi breathed.
The bow fell from my hands. This was said to be a great power—one the Celestial Emperor possessed—of which a single bolt could injure us greatly, even ending our lives.
His eyes were bright as he bent to pick it up. “The Jade Dragon Bow,” he murmured, running his palm along its carvings.
The recognition in his tone startled me. “How do you know? Have you seen it before?”
He shrugged. “There are few weapons of Sky-fire in existence and only one bow.”
“Why did the lightning vanish?” I was puzzled as I had not released the string.
A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Perhaps your powers aren’t strong enough to wield it yet.”
He appeared calm though his breathing quickened.
Raising the bow, he grasped its golden string. The muscles in his arm strained, yet it did not bend when it had yielded for me like a thread of silk. The moment he set it down, the bow sprang into my hands as though I had yanked it.
He raised his head, staring at me intently. Unsettled, I placed the bow back into its box and passed it to him. A loud rattling erupted from within.
He frowned as he pushed the box back to me. The
clattering ceased. “Hold on to this for now, until we decide what to do. It seems to have formed a connection with you and this is too powerful a weapon to leave lying around.”
A thrill ran through me at his words. For some reason, I found myself reluctant to part with the bow, but I made myself ask, “Should we return this to the Celestial
Kingdom?”
“The bow doesn’t belong to the Celestial Kingdom. I
heard its owner disappeared a long time ago. Keep it safe and well-hidden, until we find who we should return it to.” His eyes bored into mine with sudden intensity as he added, “Speak of this to no one.”
I nodded, despite the uneasiness clenching my stomach. Did he fear the Celestial Emperor might claim the bow? Yet it was surely the right thing to do, to restore the bow to its owner.
As I stared at the rest of the hoard, an idea formed. “Let’s distribute this to the villages Xiangliu plagued. While
nothing can compensate for the loss of their loved ones, at least their lives will be made easier.”
He nodded. “Make your selection. I’ll call the others.”
I crouched down, picking up a gold bangle studded with coral, its bright colors reminding me of Shuxiao. I tucked it
into my waistband. “My friend will like this.” “Nothing for yourself?” he asked.
I hesitated, before gathering up a necklace of sapphires, the blue fire of its stones like that of Liwei’s crown. Then it slipped through my grasp, clinking as it fell to the ground. “I have no banquets or grand events to attend. Even if I did, I have all I need.” I thought of the pendant I wore,
which I never removed. It gave me a sense of belonging, knowing it was from my father, and that my mother’s fingers had clasped it around my neck.
Captain Wenzhi was silent for a moment, before striding to the cavern entrance and calling for the others. As they joined us, their eyes widened at the sight. Even to immortals, this was no ordinary treasure. While they
selected jeweled hairpins, necklaces of pearl and amber, and jade bangles, the captain chose several items for the Imperial Treasury and the soldiers who had returned earlier.
Those who were still able worked through the night,
packing the gold and jewels. When we finally left the cave, my gaze flicked once to the still form huddled on the ground. I held my breath, trying to block out the metallic
tang of the blood-soaked earth.
The sky had lightened to a misty gray by the time we
delivered the last of the treasure to the villages. I lingered behind the others, watching as a door swung open and an old woman stepped out—the first mortal I had seen up close. Her skin was wrinkled, and her yellowed eyes drooped. The ragged clothes which hung off her frame
offered meager protection from the biting chill, while in her hands was a dirt encrusted shovel. Was she setting out to
toil at this early hour? She stumbled over the box in the entrance, bending down to pick it up. Her jaw dropped, her eyes rounding at the king’s ransom within. A shrill cry
escaped her lips, the sound piercing me deep. Cradling the chest, she ran through the streets with newfound strength,
yelling for her neighbors to awaken. Doors were flung open, shouts erupting over the discovery of the treasure.
Some of the villagers fell to their knees muttering grateful prayers, while others wept as they clutched each other. The air pulsed with their joy and relief . . . that perhaps this winter might not be so bitter after all.
I thought we were magnanimous in gifting the fortune, but this warmth in my heart seemed more precious still.
When someone stepped beside me, I gulped down the lump in my throat. Stealing a glance at Captain Wenzhi, I saw a smile stretch across his impassive face. His black eyes
reflected the golden fire of the sun as its rays swept over us, bringing forth a new dawn.
