Xue Kui's dopey grin faded the moment he noticed the bright intelligence in the crane's eyes. He blinked.
"A bird… with nascent wisdom?"
That made it awkward to eat. In essence, this crane was now a quasi-adeptus—the only difference from Xue Kui being whether it could take human form.
He let go.
He expected it to flee immediately. Instead, the crane flapped up just a little—then jabbed his head with its beak.
Xue Kui stared, stunned.
"…Strange little thing."
He grabbed the crane and lifted it away from his face. In its eyes—anger… and a trace of aggrieved pride.
"Whoa! You can understand me already?"
The crane tossed its head. The long plume at its nape—lengthened by the leyline's tempering—smacked Xue Kui across the nose.
He didn't get angry. He just chuckled, gently smoothed its ruffled feathers, then lifted it skyward and coaxed:
"Alright, alright—don't be mad. That one's on me."
He set the crane down. They resumed their unblinking staring contest.
Is it younger than me? he wondered. Its gaze felt like a mind just awakened.
Which meant—
He threw his head back.
"I'm the senior here?!"
His eyes lit up. He patted the crane's head solemnly.
"Little one, come with me? Our village has lots of tasty food!"
First-ever kidnapping attempt: clumsy. The crane's tiny eyes filled with giant question marks. But when Xue Kui took two steps down the mountain path, it followed at once.
Xue Kui puffed out his chest.
From today, I'm a senior. Sounds very mature!
He had no idea what being a "senior" entailed, or what maturity looked like. It just sounded cool.
He squinted at the sun.
How long was I in the leylines, anyway?
The crane imitated him, peering at the sky. A moment later it lowered its head and wiped its eyes with a wing. Staring contests with the sun: not recommended.
Xue Kui gave up on keeping time.
He needed to find the dragon. If three months weren't up—great. And if they were… well, they were. He couldn't turn back time, and he wasn't the sort to sulk over losing.
He swept the crane into his arms and dashed down the mountain.
A plaintive avian wail echoed across the peaks.
A coastal village—under the protection of Morax.
Beyond its fields, the Geo Archon hovered in his dragon-beast form, foreclaws folded, waiting for a certain brat to honor their pact.
Not far away, a curious assembly watched their lord: unusual deer and cranes, other beasts with lucid eyes—and a number of humans with a certain strangeness about them. All radiated clarity of thought.
Beasts and humans alike—
adepti who had not taken human form, or had only partially done so.
These were not all of Morax's followers—only those with standing enough to attend.
In other words—
fighters.
A stag with powerful antlers and intricate markings admired himself in a floating mirror, inspecting every branch of horn with grave attention. Satisfied, he dismissed the mirror with a thought and glanced at the young spearwoman beside him.
"Ping—was the little yaksha truly as unusual as you claim?"
Ping—Xue Kui's accidental guide—was polishing a new spear. Unlike traditional heads, hers was long and narrow, double-edged, with a razor tip—her request after joining the Geo Lord's camp.
"I didn't want to believe it either," she admitted with a helpless smile. "But seeing how the Emperor behaves today… I can't deny what I saw."
Within Morax's retinue, everyone called him Rex Lapis, the Emperor of Rock—the Emperor for short.
The stag nodded.
"Indeed. I cannot recall the Emperor ever showing so much interest in one person."
He tilted his head, curious.
"And how does the boy measure up to you?"
Ping had already exchanged a few bouts with Rex Lapis upon joining; the onlookers thus had a sense of her level—solid, disciplined, formidable.
"Before, I was stronger. Now… hard to say."
Confusion rippled through the crowd.
A black-plumed crane with flecks of gold hopped forward.
"Then you're still stronger. Two months is nothing. No one's power surges in a few weeks. You of all people know how rare that is."
Ping's mouth quirked.
If she hadn't seen it herself, she'd agree.
"It's hard to explain. If Xue Kui shows up, you'll understand when you see him."
A short distance away stood a group with human forms led by a towering, four-armed man with violet hair and a bare, corded chest. They were quieter than the beasts—but their faces held a glow of anticipation.
"Fushe," said a red-robed girl whose hair was as fiery as her temperament, a thin red mark ornamenting her brow. She bounded in place, unable to hold still. "Do you think we're getting a new recruit?"
"I don't know," the four-armed man—Fushe—replied, shaking his head. "The newcomer said that child belongs to Lady Guizhong's side."
"Aww, no! But they said he's a freshly born yaksha! Shouldn't we look after him?"
She looked moments away from rolling on the ground.
Fushe sighed. A long-haired man with black-and-gold attire and a serene, dignified face stepped in, gentle but firm.
"Yingda, don't trouble Brother Fushe. 'Look after the child,' yes—what you really want is a playmate."
Caught, Yingda stuck out her tongue and ducked behind the last of the four: a calm woman with a mild smile. Twin horns swept back from her head, a curved diamond sigil painted upon her brow. Water-blue fitted garments sheathed her figure, while her sleeves hung wide and long, covering her hands; a barbed tail-train flowed behind her.
She patted Yingda's head.
"Even if he's Lady Guizhong's ward, that doesn't stop us from visiting, does it?"
Yingda's eyes sparkled.
"Fanan-jie is the smartest!"
These four—laughing and chatting like ordinary acquaintances—were in truth the sharpest edge of Morax's spear. All were yaksha—famed even among a race born for battle.
As his subordinates' curiosity sparked and spread, the Emperor himself—who floated with arms folded as if composed—
felt… uneasy.
That little fiend isn't going to stand me up… is he?
He thought back over the brat's history.
A cold realization struck him.
…It's actually very likely.
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