The great pavilion beneath the ancient spirit willow was draped in the solemn amber glow of hanging stone lanterns. Above, the crimson light of the eclipsed moons filtered through the dense willow boughs. It cast long, bloody veins across the central courtyard. Yet despite the world-ending sky, an air of disciplined, calm focus permeated the hall.
Gathered around a massive sand-table replica of the southern gorge stood the core leadership of the Myriad Spirit Safe hall.
Tie Shan stood leaning against the cedar table rim, his seven-foot frame clad in unpolished star-iron plate that creaked faintly with every breath. Across his back hung his five-hundred-jin smithing hammer. Beside him stood Xiao Hei, the twelve-foot shadow wolf king resting silently on his haunches. His ruby eyes glowed with sharp intelligence. Perched upon a carved cedar beam above was Da Peng, his golden-azure feathers groomed and tight against his flanks, while from the deep pool flanking the terrace, Xiao Long coiled his thirty-meter snake-like body, resting his antlered dragon chin gently on the damp flat stone slabs.
Standing near the outer edge was Deacon Xue San. Dressed in his clean hemp gardener’s smock with loam still under his fingernails, the former demonic assassin unrolled a detailed parchment map of the southern barrens, pinning the corners down with river pebbles.
“The demonic horde advances in a three-stage wedge,” Xue San reported, his voice crisp and devoid of his former cult pause. “Elder Han Gu has deployed twenty thousand razor-tusk boars and fifteen thousand armored rhinos at the vanguard. They’re funneled through the southern river defile. That was because the heavy beasts can’t scale the steep granite crags. The venom apes and shadow hyenas will take the northern ridges, while Han Gu himself remains five miles back on a floating bone platform, coordinating the parasite needles with the Nine-Ghost Cauldron.”
Tie Shan grunted, slamming an iron-furred fist into his palm with a dull boom. “Sovereign, my lads can hammer out forty sets of spiked pit-traps in two hours. We can plant five hundred iron-hard metal pikes in the river gravel. When those boars hit the defile, the pikes will skewer the front ranks like roasted sausages!”
“And from above,” Da Peng screeched softly, his voice carrying the whistling edge of a winter gale, “my twenty wind falcons can sweep the defile with Sky-Cleaving Feather Blades. We can decapitate three thousand beasts before they reach the gate.”
At the head of the sand table, resting comfortably upon a stitched silk cushion, Lin Xiao gave his semi-clear blue body a firm, disapproving shake.
“No,” Lin Xiao said, his mental signal echoing through the pavilion with quiet, unmoving power. “Put the pikes away, Tie Shan. And Da Peng, no decapitations.”
The gathered commanders blinked, turning their gazes toward the little blue slime.
“Sovereign?” Tie Shan rumbled, his thick brow furrowing. “There are one hundred thousand beasts charging down that throat. If we don’t kill them, they will trample our walls into powder!”
“Tie Shan, look at Xue San’s map,” Lin Xiao replied gently, extending a semi-clear blue slime arm to touch the painted figurines on the sand table. “Those boars, rhinos, and wolves aren’t an invading foreign army. They’re ordinary forest animals. They were captured in nets, starved in iron cages, and had nine-inch needles of cursed iron hammered into their skulls. They’re in painful pain. The madness driving them forward isn’t malice—it’s torture.”
Lin Xiao turned his curved white crescent eyes toward the commanders, his tone firm.
“The moment we start skewering them on pikes or shredding them into bloody chunks from the sky, we become no different than Elder Han Gu. We would be butchering innocent creatures to save ourselves. In this Safe hall, our prime law is life. Defend our home, hold our lines, protect every citizen—and save those beasts from their torment. Not one unnecessary kill.”
A deep silence dropped upon the pavilion.
Xue San stared at the blue sphere, a lump rising in his throat. For twenty years in the demonic sect, he had been taught that war was an engine of mutual slaughter. That the only measure of victory was the depth of the blood-lake left behind. To witness a ruler facing one hundred thousand starving beasts. But placing the preservation of enemy lives as his paramount directive, was an experience that shook Xue San’s soul to its foundation.
Xiao Hei lowered his massive head, pressing his cold black nose against Lin Xiao’s side. “Your will is our total command, Father. We shall hold the valley without drawing blood.”
“Then let’s review the working doctrine,” Su Ling’er announced, stepping forward with her bamboo ledger. Her three snowy tails swished with crisp, office rhythm. “The Dao Spirit and Master have formulated Operation Green Meadow.”
She pointed her jade metal pen at the sand table’s southern bottleneck.
“Sector One: The River Defile,” Su Ling’er began. “Xiao Long and Elder Lu Da will command the waterways. The charging vanguard relies on solid bedrock to sustain its thirty-mile-per-hour driving force. The moment the fifteen thousand rhinos enter the gravel flats, the otters will release the upper pool locks. Xiao Long will saturate the underground strata. He turned three square miles of hard bedrock into a thixotropic mud quagmire ten feet deep. The heavy rhinos will sink safely up to their shoulders, their moving driving force fully absorbed by the earth.”
Xiao Long let out a soft, approving hiss, nodding his horned dragon head. “The waters shall obey, Little Sister. Not a single rhino shall break a bone.”
“Sector Two: The High Northern Crags,” Su Ling’er continued, moving her metal pen along the upper bluffs. “The twelve thousand venom apes will try to scale the upright granite. Da Peng will lead twenty wind falcons, each carrying two heavy cedar barrels of Dream-Lotus pollen harvested from Master’s calm ponds. An aerial air-burst at four hundred meters will blanket the crags in soporific mist. The apes will inhale the pollen and fall into an eight-hour healing medicine sleep before their claws touch our wooden wall.”
Da Peng clicked his golden beak with dry humor. “A sleep powder bombing run. Most dignified. It saves me from cleaning blood off my main feathers.”
“Sector Three: The Flanks and Handlers,” Su Ling’er pointed toward the pine ridges. “Xiao Hei and fifty Shadow Gale Wolves will deploy using [Shadow Meld Step]. You’ll not engage the corrupted beasts in frontal combat. Guided by Xue San’s patrol maps, your sole target is the demonic handlers and their bone whistles. Disarm the cultists, knock them unconscious, and snap the copper-spiked mind-control collars from the wild wolves.”
“Consider it done,” Xiao Hei growled softly.
“Sector Four: The Gateway Bastion,” Su Ling’er looked toward the giant earth-bear smith. “Tie Shan, your three hundred armored bear warriors will form an unmoving iron-hard metal finger bone across the narrow eighty-foot gateway. You’ll not swing to kill. You’ll lock your ten-thousand-jin meteor-iron tower shields and hold the line against whatever scattered beasts make it past the mud flats.”
Tie Shan grinned, his golden star-bronze right arm humming with deep, ringing shakes. “A test of pure endurance and shield-craft. My lads will love it. We’ll show those demonic whelps that an honest bear’s shield is harder than their dark magic!”
“And what of Sector Zero?” Xue San asked, pointing toward the mouth of the defile where the gorge met the open wasteland. “The first blast wave of the vanguard... The fastest shock-beasts will reach the bottleneck before the mud has fully melted. Who will blunt that first, terrifying impact?”
All eyes turned toward the center of the table.
Lin Xiao gave a cheerful, rubbery bounce, his blue body glowing with internal sapphire light.
“That’s my job,” Lin Xiao chuckled. “I’m going to roll down to the mouth of the defile, stretch myself out across the canyon, and act as a giant, bouncy trampoline. If they run at full speed, they’re just going to bounce right back into the sand.”
“All sector map points mapped, Host,” the Dao Spirit’s calm voice chimed within Lin Xiao’s core. “Striking force absorption settings tuned for multi-ton impacts. Dream-Lotus pollen payload sealed in forty air-powered kegs. Host Dantain Ancient Chaos reserves: ninety-eight point four percent. Ready for tactical deployment.”
Lin Xiao hopped off his cushion, landing on the floorboards with a soft plop.
“Alright, everyone,” Lin Xiao announced, his voice ringing with warm, steady confidence. “The sun is down, the moons are red, and our guests are eighteen miles away. Take your stations, check your gear, and remember: we aren’t fighting for revenge. We’re fighting to protect our home, our gardens, and the future we’re building together. Let’s get to work.”
With timed together bows of deep respect, the commanders disbanded.
Across the volcano bowl, the machinery of the Myriad Spirit Safe hall sprang into action. Torches flared along the canal paths. Bear warriors hoisted huge black shields. Sleek silver otters dove into the river water chutes with signaling flags. And twenty amazing wind falcons took to the crimson sky, soaring into the dark clouds with heavy wooden kegs held firmly in their talons.
At the center of it all, a small blue slime bounced down the southern stone stairway, whistling a lighthearted street tune as the earth rumbled beneath his feet.