Chún clung to his staff as his legs finally gave way. He dropped to his knees, breath tearing raggedly from his throat as fatigue slammed into him like a week without sleep. His whole body throbbed—dull aches, sharp stings, deep bruises—and every movement sent pain skittering across his nerves.
His wavering Essence Sense showed the battle had stopped, but the canyon—now little more than a blasted wound—was a churning ocean of discharged Essence. Violent currents surged in all directions. The worst concentrations marked the places where overwhelming attacks had struck—like his first star‑bolt—or where great creatures had fallen—like the Demon King.
The ash‑scoured ground beneath him wavered, almost insubstantial from the severity of the Essence distortion. Only now did Chún fully register that the narrow canyon had been reshaped into a crater gouged deep into the outer mountain face.
"I have to clean all this up…" The memory of the bear battle surfaced—how wild Essence left unpurified warped everything it touched. This was a thousand times worse. He did not know what long exposure to this much violent, death‑tainted Essence would do, but he was certain it would not be good.
He tried to draw a steady breath—and gagged. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood, the reek of roasted flesh, and other foul odours he could not name. His stomach lurched violently and he vomited.
When the retching eased he hauled himself upright using his staff. A cool ripple of Water Essence flowed from his cloak, washing his mouth and face clean before the liquid pattered onto the ground.
"...Well," he rasped, too numb to be surprised, "the cloak seems to be doing all right."
He tried to stagger toward the worst of the Essence turbulence, but his feet refused to obey. He pitched forward—only to be caught by something cool, strong, and scaled.
Agony lanced across his ribs as pressure met his wounds.
"True Cultivator—you musst heal firsst. We will take you back to your cave."
Chún gasped. The coils supporting him belonged to the jiāolóng—the Flood Dragon.
"Your Majesty… I must go there." He pointed feebly at the twisting roil of Essence. "It is wrong. As bad as… whatever just happened. It must be fixed…" He doubled over coughing as something metallic and sweet surged up his throat. Blood splattered the ground. "It cannot… wait."
The jiāolóng lifted him carefully and moved toward the place he had indicated.
A moment later the distortion came into view—a torn gash in the air itself, pulsing faintly, the surrounding rock rippling as if it were liquid rather than stone.
The Dragon hissed. "A rift—sseared sshut, but not clossed fully… We thought it only a minor incurssion. My ssubjectss and I only desstroyed a few ssmall oness. The Esssencce here iss dangerouss…" The great head dipped. "Where?"
Chún's bond with his locus flickered and then focused sharply on a point beneath the wound. He pointed. The Dragon lowered him as close as it dared.
"Hurry, True Cultivator. Even my sscaless cannot endure this corruption long."
Chún plunged his staff into the ground. The ashen soil parted like dòufu, soft until the butt struck something solid. He pulsed Essence through it—on the Mountain's heartbeat.
The staff shivered.
A wave of normality rippled outward. Everything it touched snapped into clearer focus. The ugly wound dimmed.
Then—an answering wave of raw, raging Essence slammed down the staff and into him.
If he had not already matched his Essence to the Mountain's pulse, he would have been incinerated. Instead, his Essence rode the flood—burning through his wounds, stabilising them from the inside.
The jiāolóng hissed in pain as the backlash struck its scales.
"Go!" Chún shouted. "Your Majesty—leave! It will not be safe!"
But the Flood Dragon held firm, bracing around him, adjusting its Essence to the Mountain's rhythm.
The staff flared brightly. Raw Essence poured in from the air, from the ground, from the dying rift—drawn into the Mountain, purified, and expelled as calm, neutral Essence.
Even riding the pulses, the torrent was overwhelming. His bones felt as though they were being reforged. Thought dissolved. Breath dissolved. All that remained was the pulse.
When awareness returned, the Golden Crow was sinking toward the crater's edge.
Chún found himself standing with both hands braced against the trunk of an impossibly huge tree. The air was thick with calm Essence—so thick it condensed into droplets on the bark, sliding down like glowing rain. High above, green Wood Essence showered gently from branches that vanished into the clouds.
The tree was so vast he could not see its crown.
"What… happened?" He stepped back—then froze as his cloak shifted around him like multicoloured mist. It barely looked solid, its layers rippling like smoke threaded with tiny gemstones.
"So you changed as well," Chún murmured, brushing the shifting layers. "You… grew?"
"Aiya… and my staff?"
The Flood Dragon coiled beside him, scales gleaming in soft light. "Your sstaff hass given itsself to become a World‑classs Treassure—to sseal the rift and sstand guard. Be proud."
"Oh." Chún blinked at the towering tree. "I do not suppose anyone can explain this? I was only exploring—then suddenly the nine hells descended." He bowed weakly. "Thank you, Your Majesty. If not for you, I could not have cleansed the Essence. I do not want to know what that corruption would have done to my friend."
The Dragon lowered its head. "It iss I who owe you a debt. I—and everyone elsse on thiss Mountain."
A pulse stirred through Chún's link. Then—
"I am glad you lived, Chún," the Mountain added softly.
"Yes. A great debt. Thank you, my friend."
Chún froze. "Mountain? Is that you?"
"Yes," replied a deep, resonant voice in the link. "There was so much excess Essence from the rift… I advanced the equivalent of several millennia in but a handful of shí."
"You… got older?"
"I grew. More complex. A human would say I grew up." The voice was sheepish. "I did not understand what I was asking before. I only sensed danger—and that a True Cultivator could help."
Chún turned helplessly to the Dragon. "Can someone explain all this?"
The jiāolóng bowed. "Come, Honoured Cultivator. There are many who wissh to thank you."
As Chún turned to follow, the Mountain called out, "Catch!"
He snatched a falling seed pod the size of a melon from the air. It pulsed—his Essence answered—and the pod burst open in a brilliant flare.
A full-grown tree rose from it in a miǎo, branches twisting, collapsing inward—
—and a staff struck the ground before him.
Twice the size of his old one. Smooth, lacquered black. Essence swirled within it like a slice of night sky.
It settled into his grip with perfect balance, as though it had always belonged to his hands.
"Wa…" Chún bowed toward the great Tree. "Thank you. I will take good care of your child."
He followed the jiāolóng out of the crater.
What had been blasted stone was now a lush valley—grasses, herbs, flowering shrubs. A new spring poured water down toward the Tree, shimmering with Water Essence. Birds darted through the air.
Essence Beasts filled the valley—sleek, glowing, healthy. Some he recognised as ones he had watched die.
"All of uss wissh to expresss our gratitude," said the Dragon. "Your firsst sstrike clossed the rift. Your lasst sslew the Queen. You resstored the balancce—and the Mountain healed uss all."
Chún bowed. "Thank you, fellow warriors."
The Beasts dispersed.
The Mountain spoke again. "You converted a World's worth of Essence into safe power. It healed everyone—and advanced them several grades."
Chún threw up his hands. "None of that explains anything! What is going on?"
The Dragon snorted. "We were invaded."
"Yes, I understood that much! What attacked?"
"They come from other planess," the Dragon hissed. "Where they pass, the land forgetss itsself, remade into a hollow reflection of their world." "They turn placess into copiess of their own. It iss early for them to attempt a major incurssion…"
"Will they come back?"
"Not like that," the Mountain said. "The World Tree sealed the breach. Small ones may slip through, but nothing on that scale."
The Dragon hesitated. "Honoured Mountain… how can there be a World Tree here?"
Embarrassment rippled down the link.
"Friend," Chún asked gently. "Is there a problem?"
"Not a problem—just unexpected. When you awakened me, we were only a twist away from the Golden Crow Planet. Like a folded place—still part of the Mountain, yet hidden. A small pocket."
Chún frowned. "Like… putting a mountain in a bag?"
"Close enough," the Mountain admitted. "Most would see a normal outer mountainside. Only those who know how to open the fold can enter."
The jiāolóng flicked its tongue. "And now?"
"There was too much energy," the Mountain said sheepishly. "Too much to hide. If not for all the strengthening over the last month, that first strike would have torn the barriers apart and revealed us to every Consumer on the planet. It would have destroyed me."
Chún paled. "I only did what you asked. I have seen but twelve seasons!"
"...Closer to fifteen seasons," the Mountain murmured, embarrassed. "But yes—that was my misjudgment. I am sorry."
The Dragon let out a triumphant roar. "Vengeance! The rift collapssed—and the backblasst of the invaderss' destrucction would have finished their plane!"
Chún stared. "Finished… their entire plane?"
"Yes," the Mountain said softly. "But one Queen survived. Between the flood of Essence from their collapsing world and the strain of sealing the breach, the barriers began to fail. I used everything to reinforce them—but I could not hide that much power…"
The jiāolóng hissed thoughtfully. "Ssso you converted the barrier into a dimenssional ssplit."
"Correct. I am now a separate World—a small one—connected only by a narrow boundary. Energy cannot pass easily between us anymore. We are safe from being sensed."
Chún looked at the sky. "It still looks the same." He blinked, then frowned. "So… the little mountain everyone sees out there—is only your skin?"
The Dragon rumbled with amusement. "We are a room in a housse with a closed door. Still part of the housse—but very hard to enter. Perhaps one day the Mountain will be itss own housse entirely."
"There was far too much energy," the Mountain repeated, still embarrassed. "Your staff absorbed as much as it could. When it agreed to guard the rift, I gave it everything it could take. That is how it became a World Tree."
Chún rubbed his head. "So… this is good?"
"Very good," the Dragon replied. "A place where Esssencce plantss and Beastss may advance freely."
"But the higher the tree," the Mountain warned gently, "the more wind it catches. You have drawn notice. Eventually, others will come."
"Anyone close to World rank on Golden Crow Planet will have felt something," the Dragon added. "But thanks to the split, they will only ssee a shadow of the Mountain — a tiny portion of your true self left visible on Golden Crow Planet while the resst is sealed away. The Mountain now existss in two placess at once. The trickle of Esssence I diverted to the outer mountain is only to convince otherss that it is merely a naturally improving patch of wilderness. It will look like a local phenomenon."
Chún exhaled. "Good. Excellent. Wonderful." He swayed. "I am… very tired."
"I am going home now."
Without waiting for further explanation, he leapt into the treeline.
The jiāolóng watched him go. "Ssuch a young one to carry our hopess. Will it be enough?"
The wind whispered through leaves and water. The Mountain's voice drifted with it.
"While creating the dimensional split, I reached deeply into the foundations of Dao. I sensed… someone else. Another who moves with the Dao instead of against it. Not a True Cultivator—but not a Consumer either. Another young one…"
The Dragon's eyes widened. "Ssso… there may be another."