Dawn broke in a majestic flood of rose and pale gold across the eastern sky, piercing the misty mantle that shrouded the Grand Desolate Spirit Forest.
Hovering two thousand meters above the emerald sea of ancient canopies, suspended in eternal defiance of gravity by the living Earth-Core Leyline Heart, was the Floating Mountain of Myriad Spirits.
Cascades of crystal water spilled from high cliff alcoves, transforming into shimmering silver veils of mist before they could touch the world below. Verdant terraces of spirit tea and flowering wisteria clung to the soaring granite precipices, while ancient mountain pines with gnarled, lightning-scarred trunks twisted toward the morning sun. At the mountain’s summit, the white stone pavilions and curved jade-tiled roofs of the Safe hall caught the first golden rays of dawn.
The Tranquil Ripple glided through the lower cloud bank, its cedar hull parting the moist morning vapors with a gentle hiss.
From the highest watch-crag overlooking the cloud docks, a brilliant flash of solar gold flared against the sky. Da Peng, the Golden-Winged Roc King, unfolded his thirty-meter wingspan. That let out a piercing, ringing cry of pure joy that echoed off the granite cliffs like a silver trumpet. The sky raptor tucked his wings, diving through the clouds in a breathtaking golden streak before flaring his plumage to land weightlessly upon the timber mooring rail.
