Stumbling out of the poison-fogged marsh, Ye Chenyu's clothes were torn and stained with mud and blood. His breath came in ragged gasps, chest still heavy with the damp stench of the swamp, his mind reeling from the life-and-death struggle with serpent and frog. The ground beneath his feet slowly shifted from mire to cracked mountain soil, where an air of desolation and scorched dryness drifted faintly on the wind.
Suddenly, a shrill cry ripped through the suffocating silence, a sound that seemed to tear the very sky apart. Ye Chenyu raised his head. From within the rolling black clouds, a blazing crimson radiance burst forth—descending upon him in the form of a colossal bird.
It resembled a crane, yet far larger than any creature he had ever seen. Its wings spread like a burning canopy that covered the heavens. With every beat, the edges of its feathers trailed streams of fire, cascading like falling stars and scattering sparks that seared the air. Its beak was sharp enough to pierce stone, and its talons, metallic and cruel, tore at the empty sky as if to rend the void itself.
Flames poured down from the heavens. Entire stretches of forest ignited at once, trees twisting and exploding in the inferno with thunderous cracks. Beasts fled in panic through the woods; their cries, mingled with the screams of birds, rose and fell only to be swallowed by the advancing sea of fire. The great firebird wheeled high above, scattering flames with the sweep of its wings. Yet it paid no heed to the terror below, its gaze fixed far beyond earth or sky, cold and indifferent to the lives it consumed.
The air grew so hot it threatened to melt the very lungs. Smoke rolled in waves, devouring every cry. Creatures that dashed through the flames—beast, bird, or insect—were no more than dust before it. A single flick of its wings, and fire rained down; the fleeing shadows on the ground dissolved into ash. The stench of charred flesh and burning wood thickened the air, yet the bird never faltered. Its eyes shone with cold detachment, as though it saw not living beings but insignificant debris.
Its presence was a decree, a reminder to all things that it was fire incarnate—the embodiment of nature's wrath. The weak, no matter how they struggled, would only become drifting smoke beneath its wings. The world narrowed to the crimson glow of flames and the breath of death. Above the inferno, the firebird hovered like a god, radiating pride and merciless authority.
Ye Chenyu's eyes reflected its burning form, his heart pounding violently in his chest. The scorched ground seared through the soles of his shoes, yet he could not think—only run. Fire chased him like a living predator, the storm of heat driving the breath from his lungs. Each inhale felt like swallowing embers, each blink seared his eyes with pain.
In that endless flight, he believed death inevitable. Yet the firebird never descended. It circled aloft, screaming its piercing cry, as though proclaiming some celestial decree. A crushing pressure weighed down upon him, as if the very laws of heaven trembled beneath its wings.
At last, staggering and half-delirious, Ye Chenyu stumbled into a hidden mountain valley. Towering cliffs walled him in, shielding him from the bird's sight and the blaze outside. Collapsing in the shadows of rock, he gasped for breath, chest heaving, sweat and ash streaking his face. When at last he lifted his eyes, he saw a faint glow deeper within the gorge.
It was neither the bird's red flame nor the sun's light, but a soft, eerie radiance of green-blue hue—like the heartbeat of some secluded mountain village untouched by the outside world.
Holding his breath, he stared. The glow beckoned, yet tested his will. A sense of foreboding stirred in his chest: what lay ahead was no sanctuary, but another unknown domain of peril. Still, retreat was no longer an option.
He followed the light, step by step. Soon, an ancient village revealed itself—low wooden huts, primitive in form, encircled by natural stone walls and strange sigils carved into the earth. The night wind whispered through them, carrying echoes of chant-like murmurs. Firelight flickered behind wooden shutters, casting shadows of figures moving within. Their motions were strange, graceful yet unsettling, emanating an aura that defied the gaze.
Ye Chenyu halted, heart still hammering in his chest. He knew this place was unlike anything he had encountered. Here lay secrets of the Lingyu, hidden within this mysterious tribe—secrets that awaited his trial.
The firebird's descent was only the beginning. The true riddle of the Lingyu now stood before him.