Riding atop Little Shrubby's massive back, Lin Mu, Daoist Chu, and Meng Bai sped across the sky like a low-hanging comet, cutting through layers of cloud and wind.
The beast's long mane fluttered wildly behind them, and the steady beat of his paws against the air kept a comforting rhythm as the landscape below rolled by in a blur of green mountains and misty valleys.
The sun had just begun its descent into the western horizon, casting long golden streaks across the world. Meng Bai, leaning slightly forward to catch the wind, turned his head curiously toward Lin Mu.
"master," he asked, "what kind of place is the Verdant Ash Basin? I've heard the name before, but never the details."
Lin Mu's gaze shifted toward the horizon where a faint sea of smoke clouds seemed to rise—still hundreds of kilometers away, but ever-present. His voice was calm, steady, carrying the weight of knowledge earned over many paths traveled.
