A black shadow rose high, and from the night’s canopy a golden nebula slowly ascended, drifting into the boundless darkness like thousands upon thousands of newborn fireflies.
Xue Cuo felt an uncanny stillness, and before he realised it, his feet were carrying him forward.
Stars.
He had never seen stars before. In the skies of the Eastern Lands there was only a solitary, silent moon. That beautiful moon, shedding its soft radiance over the whole of the Eastern Divine Lands.
But in the Realm of Ten Thousand Gods, there was no moon.
Instead, faint golden motes floated upward, gathering into the shape of a maiden on horseback.
Her hair blazed into fire. She brandished a spear and spurred her steed into the heavens.
Xue Cuo seemed to hear a clarion, exultant war-song.
The maiden sang fearlessly as she thrust her spear into the night. She gave everything, lost everything. Her body, lovely as pearl, burst apart, dissolving into a vast sea of flowers.
The nebula shifted like drifting sand, then reformed in an instant as a naked giant, kneeling upon one knee.
His broad chest spoke of the firmness and endurance of rock; his thick arms, of mountains rising and falling.
Below the waist he was beast-like, dragon-tailed, his body wrapped in streaming ribbons, ancient totems etched across his skin exuding a savage, primeval aura.
Fixing his gaze upon the night, he suddenly leapt upward, swung a pair of immense axes, and hewed at the heavens.
Each clash against the darkness left his body ever more broken, yet countless times he raised his head, countless times he charged once more.
At last—
His form collapsed, dissolving into a glorious golden nebula across the night sky.
The giant looked down at his disintegrating body as it fell, striking the sea of flowers still lingering from the maiden’s sacrifice.
One massive arm came to rest among the blossoms in quiet repose. Beside it lay his battle-axe, which with the passing of time slowly faded, shifting shape.
Ancient, cryptic Daoist arts flickered forth in the nebula’s breaking and re-forming, no more than a blossom seen but once before it withers.
Xue Cuo beheld leaf-like boats adrift upon the nebula, each carrying a person no larger than a bean.
The tiny figures strained to strike at something, but in an instant the nebula surged in waves, toppling them, drowning them, and they vanished without trace.
He saw a living lion, an eight-armed yaksha, a golden serpent, and a tree in full bloom. He saw soaring eagles, wide-jawed fish, warriors of unmatched strength, and dragons exhaling cloud and mist.
All of them rushed headlong into the night, and all perished in silence, as if partaking in an eternal banquet of death.
Xue Cuo’s heart quivered: So this is the meaning of the Realm of Ten Thousand Gods?
Endless strange Dao-arts, combat forms, divine powers were all hidden in those fleeting visions of nebulae.
But to seize them greedily, to weigh none against another, to attempt to grasp all in a single glance, or to let one’s mind wander, then it would be impossible to touch the instant of true enlightenment.
Yet Xue Cuo did not seek to comprehend. Hands clasped behind his back, he simply mused.
His memory was keen, and the Dao concealed within those shifting nebulae troubled him little.
He even thought that, with calm breath and focused spirit, he could fathom the very essence of those Dao arts.
And yet… always something eluded him.
Step by step, Xue Cuo traversed the dark, dense terrain. All about were low slopes, scattered rocks, and strange, uncanny trees.
He gauged the span of this heaven and earth. Each step upon the ground rippled like the surface of a marsh.
He searched for traces of talismans or formations.
High in the clouds, Fang Longxi smacked his lips. His gourd was empty, no wine to drink. Before him lay his tattered shoe, and beside him sprawled the stone dragon.
Man and dragon both peered into the shoe. Fang Longxi clicked his tongue. “Haih. That boy’s cautious, isn’t he?”
Scratching his head, he reached out, and the dragon carved upon the pillar slithered happily towards him, flying into the shoe.
Still unsatisfied, Fang Longxi rummaged about his robes, then his face lit up. “Soldiers raised a thousand days, used in a single moment. Time to give the little brats a surprise.”
With a flick of his finger, a tiny louse transformed into a streak of light and vanished within.
All at once, Xue Cuo felt the ground shift beneath him. He made a startled sound and stepped back warily.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong!
Suddenly the heavens growled with muffled thunder. Gales wrapped with lightning howled, and great drops of rain came crashing down.
Xue Cuo wiped his face, tugged the little white cloud from his bosom, kneaded it into a rain hat, and set it upon his head against the storm.
Moo—
A sound rose from the heavens, like a cow’s bellow, yet deeper, more oppressive.
Xue Cuo, and many other disciples across that world, raised their heads in astonishment.
Dark rainclouds piled upon the black vault of night, mingling with the golden nebula to form the sky.
Still the nebula shifted.
Now, amidst the roiling storm, a serpentine shadow emerged. Scales the size of barrels, eagle’s claws, fish’s tail gliding through the cloudbank, half-seen, half-concealed.
Zhu Xiaoyou, who had been immersed in his cultivation, could not help but look up.
“A dragon?”
For one born a mortal, the feeling of beholding such a creature went far beyond mere awe.
And in this age of cultivation, dragons had long since faded into legend. Only the rarest of men could still keep such mighty spirits.
Eyes wide, his body trembling with excitement, Zhu Xiaoyou stared at the immense being, and even let out a cry. Thankfully though, none were near enough to hear.
Most of the other male cultivators, too, were greatly stirred. Suddenly, a vast head emerged from the clouds with antlers, long-whiskers, and fangs.
Then another. And another. Dragon heads rising all about, gazing in every direction.
A foreboding welled up in Xue Cuo’s heart. Quietly, he slipped into a hollow in the earth.
And the host of dragons raised their voices in a long, resounding roar.
One after another, dragons came hurtling down through the clouds, diving in all directions.
Zhu Xiaoyou gave a soft gasp and saw a huge dragon flying straight at him. His heart leapt with alarm, and he bolted!
Moo——
A dreadful low bellow burst behind his head, and with a sudden sweep of its mighty tail, the dragon sent the little man flying.
The beast gleefully gave chase, and what followed was a merciless, thoroughly draconic thrashing.
Zhu Xiaoyou nearly spat blood. Only then did he realise the dragon meant no good. Golden light flashed from his hand as he steadied his breath, gathered his spirit, and flung forth a desperate sword strike.
Ding——
The blade’s aura struck like charcoal against iron, throwing off nothing but a scatter of sparks across the dragon’s scales.
The dragon glanced down, Zhu Xiaoyou glanced up. Heavens, not even a scratch.
Its eyes narrowed dangerously. How dare you resist!
Up went its claw, and with a single swat it slammed Zhu Xiaoyou into a low earthen hill. He cried out as half his body was driven into the soil, wedged so tightly he could not pull himself free.
The dragon flicked its tail with satisfaction.
Nor was Zhu Xiaoyou alone. Other disciples too were set upon by dragons in the midst of their cultivation.
Most had scarcely any combat experience; since joining the sect they had devoted themselves to Daoist practice, never crossing swords. Now, under sudden assault, they were beaten into sorry states.
The dragons had their own repertoire of battle-arts—whip, hurl, tear, press, ram, grind, twist, bite.
Zhu Xiaoyou had suffered only two of these, and already his face was bruised and swollen. In the pouring rain he gazed dazedly up at the night sky. Miserable was far too small a word.
Just then, the mound beside him stirred. A tiny hand poked out, followed by a puff of white cloud. The cloud clutched a red cord, and out of the hole squeezed a rosy-cheeked little child.
Zhu Xiaoyou was dumbstruck. “Xue-shixiong!”
The cloud above Xue Cuo’s head turned into a dainty umbrella. He had meant to leave without a word, but at the cry he touched his nose, squatted down, and said, “You know me?”
Zhu Xiaoyou, half-buried in earth, still spoke boldly: “Word of your deeds has reached my ears. How splendid, how exhilarating! I salute you!”
Two steady streams of nosebleed trickled down with equal grandeur.
Xue Cuo said, “Shidi, you’re bleeding.”
Zhu Xiaoyou burst out laughing, wiped at his face and declared, “What does a true man fear…”
Eh, why does it bleed even more when I wipe?
He stared at Xue Cuo in alarm, and Xue Cuo in turn looked shaken. Tearing off two tufts of cloud for makeshift cotton, he discovered that the usually gentle, obedient little white cloud had bristled with indignation.
With a swoosh it snatched the pieces back, quivered with anger, and smacked Xue Cuo sharply on the hand.
“Ow!” Xue Cuo yelped, secretly abashed. “Circumstances, circumstances!”
The little cloud stormed off in a flurry, but seeing that Xue Cuo rummaged in vain—his storage ring unusable, and indeed nothing at hand—it relented. Zhu Xiaoyou by now was nearly drained white.
At last it drifted back, swelled with effort, and puffed out two pale-yellow wisps, which it thrust at Xue Cuo.
Delighted, Xue Cuo rolled them into plugs and handed them over. Zhu Xiaoyou shoved them into his nostrils and at last the bleeding stopped.
Tears streamed down his face. “Thank you, Shixiong. Thank you, Cloud Bro!”
Xue Cuo scratched his head. “Shidi aaa, can you still walk?”
Zhu Xiaoyou thumped his chest. “Of course! I shall protect Shixiong’s enlightenment. Just wait, I’ll dig myself out in a trice!”
Xue Cuo: “…”
So the two set out together, creeping and hiding. Overhead, the shifting nebulae were still in motion.
“With these dragons about,” said Xue Cuo, “it’s near impossible to focus on Dao comprehension.”
Zhu Xiaoyou nodded. “True, but I daresay this too is part of the trial. We cultivators must grasp the arts of battle.”
“I’ve an idea,” said Xue Cuo.
But just then a dragon’s roar thundered through the heavens. Zhu Xiaoyou nearly burst another nosebleed. Both their faces paled, and they ducked behind a low rise.
Out from the clouds burst a dragon, shaking its head furiously before spitting down a tiny yellow figure.
Clad in robes that fluttered like banners, the little figure shone brightly against the night.
“Xi Tao?”
On the ground Xi Tao met the dragon’s gaze. At once a steed of starlit cloud formed beneath him. Mounting it, he charged skyward.
Zhu Xiaoyou: “!”
Xue Cuo: “A warrior!”
Bang——
With a single swipe, the dragon shattered the starry mount, then slammed Xi Tao into the mud of a hillside, even striking him several more times for good measure before flying off.
Xi Tao rose, somewhat dishevelled, his long black hair tumbling like a waterfall, his cold and lofty face wet with rain like pear blossoms in a storm.
Zhu Xiaoyou, who had met the same fate, had looked merely ridiculous…
Xi Tao seemed to sense something. He turned sharply, staring towards Xue Cuo.
“Who’s there?”
The two exchanged a glance. Xue Cuo coughed and stepped out from behind the slope, Zhu Xiaoyou following.
Xi Tao’s expression eased slightly. “It’s you?”
He said calmly, “A dragon will only trouble you once in a short span. Use the respite to seek the Dao.”
Enlightenment dawned on Xue Cuo. Zhu Xiaoyou looked conflicted, but was not one to dither. “Thank you, fellow Daoist, for telling us.”
Xi Tao gave a faint hum and closed his eyes to rest. Zhu Xiaoyou stood upright beside him.
Xue Cuo glanced at Xi Tao, then at Zhu Xiaoyou, and nudged him. “Xi Tao-gege, Xiaoyou-shidi has come to your aid. I’ll keep watch.”
“Shixiong, you won’t help…”
Xue Cuo and the little umbrella above him tilted their heads together. “I’m only six.”
Zhu Xiaoyou could only shoulder the task of digging Xi Tao free. Xi Tao looked faintly surprised. They had not abandoned him.
Slender and striking, his features seemed almost androgynous in the rain.
As Zhu Xiaoyou dug, a shadow fell across Xi Tao’s head. He looked up to see Zhu Xiaoyou awkwardly rubbing his nose, his expression blank as he lifted a sleeve to shield him from the storm.
