Late afternoon sun filtered through the high canopy of the Grand Desolate Forest. He cast long ribbons of honeyed light across the terraced valley. The air was rich with the fragrance of blooming wild honeysuckle, warm cedar resin. The intoxicating, sugary aroma of five hundred mu of Jade-Grain Spirit Rice rippling in the mountain breeze.
At the western curve of the central terrace, nestled against a natural tiered arena of moss-draped limestone, stood the newly completed communal hot spring pavilion.
Steam, thick and scented with pine needles and underground jade minerals, billowed gently from the wide cedar baths. The water, kept at a steady, soothing heat through Lin Xiao’s heat regulation and the natural earth-heat vents, swirled lazily over steps of polished river stone.
In the center of the largest circular pool, floating serenely on a lacquered red cedar tray, was Lin Xiao.
He had swelled his azure mass slightly. It spread into a wide, comfortable saucer shape roughly the width of a car tire. His semi-clear body shone with ripples of sapphire and pale gold. He took in the warm stone water through osmotic balance. Balanced carefully atop his jelly-like center was a small, footed cup of celadon jade filled to the brim with chilled Jade-Dew frost-peach wine.
Every few minutes, Lin Xiao extended a delicate azure pseudo-finger. He lifted the cup toward his cheerful face. He took a tiny, blissful sip, and set it back down without spilling a single golden drop.
This, Lin Xiao sighed internally. He felt every non-existent muscle in his stretchy jelly body melt into pure jelly, is the pinnacle of existence. No quarterly revenue targets. No irate truck drivers yelling about blown rubber rings on Interstate 80. Just steaming stone water, a cup of four-star peach nectar, and total silence.
Beside the cedar pool deck, seated on a low woven wicker stool with her bare feet dangling into the shallow cooling channel, was Su Ling’er.
The three-tailed fox maiden had traded her formal office robes for a simple, loose-fitting tunic of bleached mountain linen. Her three snowy-white tails were draped over the cedar bench beside her, their ruby-red tips twitching lazily as she ran a wide-toothed bone comb through their silken fur. A faint, contented smile played at the corners of her lips. She watched the blue slime bob gently on the water.
“You look like a giant sapphire water lily, Lord Xiao,” Su Ling’er teased gently, her amber eyes sparkling with fond amusement.
“A water lily that appreciates good vintage, Ling’er,” Lin Xiao replied with a happy fluid wobble. “Have you checked the latest census count from Elder Lu?”
Su Ling’er set the bone comb aside, picking up a slender bamboo tablet from the low table beside her stool.
“As of this afternoon, three hundred registered souls,” she said, her voice filled with quiet wonder. “Two families of woodland river otters arrived at the southern shallows yesterday, and Sister Bai’s sister gave birth to twin boar piglets at sunrise. Every cottage has a dry roof, the granaries are stacked three tiers high with dried sweet yams and smoked river carp. The children have begun learning basic literacy in the morning classes.”
She paused, looking out over the low railing toward the residential quarter.
Down along the stone pathways that Lu Ba’s badgers had paved with white quartz pebbles, life moved with a joyful, unrushed rhythm. Young rabbit children were playing a lively game of pebble-toss beneath the broad boughs of the Spirit Willow, their squeals of laughter echoing off the valley cliffs. A group of deer gatherers sat on a shaded wooden porch, husking dried melon seeds and weaving storage baskets from supple willow shoots.
Nearby, beneath the overhanging roof edges of the main forge shop, Tie Shan was sitting cross-legged on a bench the size of a wagon bed. The giant bear was snoring softly, his chin resting against his chest. At the same time, his golden star-iron arm gleamed quietly in the afternoon light. A half-eaten wooden trencher of roast wild boar ribs sat on a stool beside him, guarded faithfully by two fat sparrow-spirits picking at the leftover sesame crumbs.
Out on the broad, sun-baked cedar deck extending over the pool, Xiao Hei was sprawled on his side like a huge black rug. The eight-foot wolf king’s eyes were half-closed in luxurious contentment. His glossy midnight fur soaked in the warm mountain sun. Whenever a stray breeze ruffled his ears, he let out a low, rumbling huff that sounded like a purring engine.
High in the cloudless azure sky, a single golden speck circled with lazy, majestic grace. It was Da Peng, the Golden-Winged Wind-Storm Roc, soaring on heat updrafts without flapping a single feather, keeping silent, easy watch over their hidden paradise.
Down in the fancy lotus pond feeding the hot spring water chutes, Xiao Long’s thirty-foot azure serpent body lay coiled among the emerald lily pads. The young flood dragon’s head rested comfortably on a mossy flat stone slab, blow-drying tiny bubbles of spiritual water through his nostrils while baby river turtles crawled harmlessly across his shimmering sapphire scales.
“It feels like a dream, Lord Xiao,” Su Ling’er murmured softly, her gaze returning to the floating blue slime. “Before I met you, the forest was a place of endless terror. Every rustle of leaves meant poachers, hunting dogs, or demonic fighters with blood-nets. To wake up and know that nobody will come with iron chains... To know that my people can eat until they’re full and sleep until dawn... I didn’t believe such a world could exist under these heavens.”
Lin Xiao tilted his cup, finishing the last drops of the sweet peach wine.
“The world is big enough for everyone to eat, Ling’er,” Lin Xiao said gently. “People only fight and kill each other because they believe there isn’t enough to go around, or because someone convinced them that having ten thousand flying swords makes them better than a farmer with a full granary. Build a solid house, plant good crops, treat your neighbors with respect, and ninety-nine percent of life’s miseries just evaporate.”
Su Ling’er reached down, dipping her slender fingers into the warm water to stroke the smooth, cool curve of Lin Xiao’s azure crown. Her touch was feather-light, filled with a rock-steady, wordless devotion.
“Our people would follow you into the deep pit, my Lord,” she whispered.
Lin Xiao gave a self-deprecating wobble. “I hope not. The deep pit sounds cold, damp, and fully lacking in hot tubs. I much prefer staying right here.”
He was about to close his white crescent eyes and sink into a well-deserved afternoon nap. Just then, a sudden, sharp deep ring chimed deep within his spiritual mind.
It wasn’t the warm, cheerful pulse of his companions’ soul links.
It was the cold, cold and exact ping of the Omniscient Dao Spirit:
“Alert. Spatial distortion detected along the northern outer edge boundary. Map points: North-Northwest ridge, Monolith Sector Seven.”
Lin Xiao’s crescent eyes instantly opened, snapping into alert, focused ovals. “What kind of distortion, Dao Spirit? Is the mist array failing?”
“Negative. The Eight-Trigrams Cloud-Mist Bend Array remains fully working at one hundred percent solid strength. However, external spiritual signed names have met the outer edge boundary. Five living entities bearing active spiritual armor and airborne forward thrust matrices have entered the outer refractive slope.”
Lin Xiao sat up in his cedar tray, his water’s skin tightening. “Fighters?”
“Affirmative,” the Dao Spirit responded, projecting real-time tracking data into his panoramic vision. “Spiritual signed name analysis: Orthodoxy training arts, high-order fire element posture. Average training realm: Late Qi Gathering to Foundation Establishment Initial Stage. Entities are currently experiencing navigational vector drift of twelve degrees per minute, but are deploying aimed scouting magic charms.”
Lin Xiao let out a long, silent fluid breath.
He looked over at the peaceful village below. The rabbit children were still laughing under the Spirit Willow. Auntie Bai was carrying a fresh basket of steamed sweet buns out to the forge shop. And Tie Shan was still snoring peacefully on his bench.
The three-week honeymoon of pure agrarian peace was drawing to a close. The outside world, with all its greed, swords, and arrogance, had finally arrived at their doorstep.
“Xiao Hei,” Lin Xiao whispered through the mental soul circuit.
On the sunlit cedar deck, the eight-foot black wolf king didn’t jump up or bark. But in a split second, his half-closed eyes snapped open, blazing with fierce crimson fire. His massive ears pivoted toward the northern ridge. A low, low, deep shaking rumbled deep in his throat.
“Master,” Xiao Hei replied instantly through the link, his tone as sharp as a drawn blade. “I smell scorched earth and sulfur on the northern wind. Five insects have breached the outer pine woods.”
“Don’t wake the village yet,” Lin Xiao instructed calmly. “Let them finish their lunch. Da Peng, drop down to the ridge canopy and observe their movements. Xiao Hei, stay by the boundary stones. We’ll go see what our uninvited guests want.”
“As you command, Sovereign,” Xiao Hei rumbled, rising to his feet with fluid, hungry grace.
Su Ling’er noticed the sudden change in the air. The comb paused in her hand, her fox ears standing straight up as she sensed the subtle shift in Lin Xiao’s stance.
“Lord Xiao?” she asked softly, her amber eyes narrowing with gut protective vigilance. “Is something wrong?”
Lin Xiao hopped off his cedar tray, landing on the pool deck with a soft, rubbery gloop. He shook off the excess stone water. It rolled up beside her ankles with his usual calm, unrushed manner.
“Nothing to worry about, Ling’er,” Lin Xiao said in a relaxed, reassuring tone. “Just a few travelers lost in the northern mist. I’m going to take Xiao Hei and go show them the way out.”
A glowing system box hovered in his mindscape, recording the state of the valley on the brink of its first external test:
Lin Xiao turned toward the northern pass where the pine trees vanished into the thick white mist.
He had built a paradise of sweet rice, clear water, and warm cedar baths. He had given three hundred scared souls a reason to smile again. And if anyone thought they could march into this valley and turn it back into a hunting ground of blood and iron, they were about to discover that water, when pressed, could cut through mountains.