Morning broke over the Floating Mountain of Myriad Spirits with the gentle clarity of polished amber.
Two thousand meters above the emerald sea of the Grand Desolate Spirit Forest, the safe hall basked in dawn’s earliest warmth. Dew clung to the broad leaves of spirit-plums in the terraced orchards. Meanwhile, the fragrant steam from roasted barley and toasted sesame buns drifted lazily from the communal kitchens below. It was the sort of quiet, languid morning designed specifically for dozing, eating warm pastries, and thinking about the sheer joy of possessing no spine to strain.
Lin Xiao occupied a large, plush silk floor cushion on the eastern cedar terrace of the central pavilion. In his natural form, he was a plump, semi-clear sapphire-blue jelly sphere, forty inches across, resting with a soft, jelly-like wobble. Two curved white eye-markings relaxed on his front outer edge in peaceful crescents. It soaked in the sunlight like a cat basking on a warm hearthstone.
Beside him, Xiao Hei lay sprawled across three cedar floorboards. The sky moon-wolf had shrunk his twelve-foot frame down to the size of an amiable black mastiff, his silver star-pattern markings faintly pulsing under glossy dark fur. A low, rhythmic snore rumbled in the beast king’s throat, his tail sometimes thumping the timber whenever a stray breeze carried the scent of cured beef ribs from the courtyard below.
