Late afternoon brought a cool amber tint to the high peaks of the Floating Mountain. Above the eastern cliff edge, wisps of white vapor began rising from the newly assembled cedar basins. It curled lazily into the crisp mountain air.
At the highest dark rock terrace. There, the deep underground channel emerged from the mountain’s bedrock roots, boiling stone water surged from the earth at an intimidating sixty-five degrees of scalding heat. At that heat, an ordinary mortal bather would be scalded like a boiled dumpling in seconds. Even seasoned Golden Core fighters would find their skin uncomfortably flushed after five breaths.
To turn this roaring earth-heat geyser into a safe hall of supreme relaxation, the raw heat energy needed delicate partitioning.
Enter Xiao Long.
The Nine-Clawed Flood Dragon had coiled his amazing rainbow-bright jade-and-gold body around the central spreading weir. He had reduced his physical length to roughly forty feet, his jade scales shimmering with the colors of polished river gems as they caught the afternoon light. Long, golden whiskers trailed gracefully through the surging water, twitching with micro-movements as he sampled the dissolved stone currents.
“A little more cold snowmelt through the western channel, Brother Xiao,” Xiao Long’s sweet-sounding voice echoed through the water vapors, sounding like the ringing of bronze chimes across a quiet lake. “The third water gate is running two degrees too fiery. We want a deep mountain soak, not an anvil cool!”
