Feiyun Xing’s fingers made contact with the rough, ice-encrusted stone of the archway.

  Wooosh.

  In response, the dormant gate awoke with a shudder that passed through the ground and up into their bones. The snow sloughed off the ancient gate. The empty hole within rippled, the view of the frozen plains distorted and tore away.

  A pull, deep and gravitational, emanated from the tear. The white feather over Feiyun Xing’s heart created a feeling of connection. The matching mark on Ren Lin’s hand flashed with a cold, answering light, a thread of attraction lured them to the gateway.

  “Stay close,” Feiyun Xing said, his voice swallowed by the hum of the portal.

  He stepped through.

  Clutching her spear, Ren Lin followed. There was no sensation of movement, only a strange displacement. The world switched out. Bingmeng’s bone-chilling cold was ripped away in an instant, replaced by a wet, thick heat that slapped her skin like a soaked towel. The silence of the icy plains went missing.

  Chirping—no, not really. A sound like war cries screamed through a whistle.

  Her face contorted when she heard it.

  Before them stretched a forest with bluish leaves and grass. Huge tree trunks stood crimson, as if they had bathed in blood.

  At first glance, the sky looked normal. But if one looked closer, two dark figures were fighting high above—fluttering, colliding, and shredding.

  Feiyun Xing followed her eyes.

  “What a nice welcome to Kuang Dao—the island where everyone turns mad. Even little beings like birds.” He then moved to a path in front.

  “You are talking like a guide.” Behind him, Ren Lin came, breathing felt harder.

  When she shifted her weight to take a step, her legs moved slower, as if she were wading through honey rather than air. Her spear, now felt like a log in her hands.

  A guttural snarl tore through the trees as they delved deeper.

  Their heads snapped toward the sound.

  Beyond a cluster of trees, the undergrowth thrashed violently. Leaves shook loose in showers of blue. Two hulking beasts—scaled and horned, their hides slick with a dark sheen were tangled together in a frenzy. Not a fight.

  Mating.

  Yet, there was nothing normal in it.

  They slammed into one another with bone-crushing force, claws gouging flesh, teeth ripping as much as biting. Blood sprayed. One creature shrieked, high and broken, yet neither slowed. The ground buckled beneath their convulsing bodies.

  All they could do was stare with their jaws open.

  One beast suddenly bit clean through the other's shoulder. Instead of recoiling, its partner only roared louder, shoving forward, as if driven by something deeper than instinct—something corrupted.

  Ren Lin recoiled, the sheer intensity of the creatures' mania making the air feel electric and dangerous. A blur of red descended from the canopy. Before she could speak, a flash of movement cut through.

  A man stepped into the clearing. With a single, fluid motion of a blade that seemed to materialize from the air, the beasts were silenced. Their bodies slumped into the grass, the violent commotion replaced by stillness.

  The stranger stood tall—half a head taller than the prince—with his long hair meticulously tied up, trailing down a back draped in a deep, crimson robe the color of dried blood.

  A primal alarm went off in the both of them. Essence radiated from his very being.

  “Stay behind the stone,” Feiyun Xing whispered to Ren Lin, his voice tight. “Do not move until I say.”

  Then he stepped out from the shadows of the crimson trunks, his sword was ready to be drawn. The tall man turned slowly. His face was calm, almost tranquil, possessing a serenity that stood in disturbing contrast to the butchered beasts at his feet. He began to approach, his steps silent despite the heavy, humid soil.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Just as I suspected,” the man in red said softly. “There is indeed a fellow of the Third Order here.”

  “Who are you?” Feiyun Xing asked, studying him carefully.

  “My name is Wei Gu.” Gesturing with his hand towards the prince, he inclined his head slightly. “And you?”

  A brief pause.

  “I am… Zhong Kui.”

  “Zhong Kui?” Wei Gu raised his brow. “You look fairer than the myths tell.”

  “Hahaha. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  A trace of amusement flickered across Wei Gu’s face before it faded.

  “Tell me,” he continued, voice smoothing once more, “have you encountered a woman bearing a scar upon her forehead?”

  “No, why?”

  “She is my wife.” His tone did not break, but something behind it dimmed. “I have been searching for her.”

  Feiyun Xing stilled. “For how long?”

  Wei Gu considered.

  “Approximately twenty years.”

  “Twenty years?” Feiyun Xing’s composure slipped for a breath. “On this island?”

  Wei Gu nodded once.

  “We came here together. As few do, we sought the Obelisk.” His gaze drifted slightly, as if seeing something far away. “The madness took her before we arrived. One day before we stood at the Scarlet Mother.”

  His fingers tightened subtly at his sleeve.

  “She fled. I pursued her. Yet the island had already begun its work on me. The beasts twisted. The trees whispered. Faces bent where they should not be. The voices…” He exhaled slowly. “They grew louder with each passing hour.”

  Feiyun Xing listened without interruption.

  “That was when I understood,” Wei Gu continued, “that if I did not defeat one of the Scarlet Mother’s champions swiftly, I would lose myself as well.”

  He lifted the hem of his crimson robe.

  Around his ankle coiled a mark like a flowing river of red.

  “This was the prize.”

  Feiyun Xing’s eyes sharpened.

  “The distortions ceased,” Wei Gu said. “The voices fell silent. My mind returned to me.”

  A pause.

  “But by then… she was gone.”

  With a soft voice the prince replied, “I hope you’ll find her.”

  “As do I.” For a moment, Wei Gu appeared distant, suspended in memory. Then he straightened back. “It is rare to encounter people upon Kuang Dao. Forgive me. I have spoken too much.”

  “No, not at all.” Feiyun Xing motioned for Ren Lin to come out. “We too want to reach the Obelisk.”

  Wei Gu’s gaze moved between them, measured and unhurried.

  “A mortal… and a descendant of the illustrious Feiyun Wuya.”

  “That is a bold assumption.”

  A soft chuckle escaped Wei Gu.

  “You stand at the Third Order at such a young age. Your features bear the unmistakable trace of him. And the name you chose…” His lips curved faintly. “Zhong Kui was an ambitious fabrication.”

  His analysis was met with silence.

  “Even after two decades in isolation,” Wei Gu continued, “one would have to be utterly witless to miss such a poorly told lie.”

  “…I see.”

  Wei Gu tilted his head slightly.

  “Then tell me—are you the son of Feiyun Tianji?”

  For the first time, something sharp flickered through his eyes. Not rage particularly; something rougher.

  Feiyun Xing’s eyes narrowed. “You seem well informed about my family. Why?”

  “How could I not be?” Wei Gu’s voice did not rise, yet the air seemed to tighten. “He was the one who sent us here.”

  The forest stilled.

  While the prince was speechless, Ren Lin studied the situation closely.

  Then—after a breath passed.

  Wei Gu exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders.

  “My apologies,” he said more quietly. “If you are his son, then perhaps you are merely another piece placed upon the same board.”

  Taking this chance, Ren Lin stepped forward. Resting a hand briefly against his shoulder.

  “Feiyun Tianji, blandly put is a bastard,” she said evenly, “but his son is not accountable for his sins. We have no intention of being your enemies. As you said—we play on the same board.”

  Wei Gu looked down at her hand, then gently removed it.

  “I am aware,” he replied. “The boy does not carry the scent of a viper.”

  His gaze returned to her. “May I know your name?”

  “Ren Lin.” She gave a slight bow. “It is a pleasure.”

  “And mine.” He returned the gesture before turning once more to the prince. “So, what shall I truly call you?”

  “…Feiyun Xing,” he said at last. “I withheld it out of caution.”

  “As you should have.” Wei Gu nodded approvingly. “If my grievances had extended to bloodline rather than man, your honesty might have proven costly.”

  Wei Gu studied Feiyun Xing for a long moment.

  “Since our goals align,” he said at last, “how about I help you navigate to the Scarlet Mother.”

  Feiyun Xing did not answer immediately. The forest felt heavier now, as though it were listening.

  “You know the path?” he asked.

  “If anyone does, it is me,” Wei Gu corrected. “I know this island better than my home.”

  His gaze flicked briefly to Ren Lin.

  “She should remain close to one of us at all times.”

  The pair nodded.

  “Now that we established that, how about you lead the way?” Ren Lin said.

  Inclining his head once, Wei Gu then turned without another word.

  Walking onto the narrow trail between the crimson trunks, his robe brushing softly against the blue grass. Both of them stuck to his back.

  Slowly, the forest swallowed them.

  With every step, the air grew thicker. Not merely humid—but dense. As if thoughts themselves had weight here. The cries of distant creatures rose and fell in uneven waves. Somewhere above, wings beat frantically, then ceased all at once.

  They walked for what felt like an hour.

  Or perhaps only minutes.

  Time stretched strangely on Kuang Dao.

  Wei Gu did not hesitate once. He moved with quiet certainty, weaving through trees that seemed identical, crossing shallow streams that reflected not the sky, but a reddish haze.

  Behind her, Feiyun Xing kept his breathing steady.

  Third Order cultivators were not so easily unsettled.

  Until—

  “Xing Xing…”

  He stopped.

  Wei Gu and Ren Lin paused several steps ahead.

  “What is it?” She asked.

  His heartbeat slammed against his ribs. The voice hadn't come from the forest; it had sounded as if it were whispered from inside his own inner ear.

  “Didn’t you hear that?”

  Indifferently, Wei Gu began to move again. “Ignore the voices, they are not real. We must hurry.”