“Little Rascal, we’re leaving now, but we’ll come back to see you another day.” Under the night sky, a snow-white feather nearly six meters long glowed with a sacred radiance. Several figures stood atop it, among them a pair of elfin sisters, their delicate hands waving in farewell. Identical in appearance, their skin was luminous, their large eyes sparkling as they bid goodbye to Stone Village. The crystalline feather hovered three feet above the ground, carrying them swiftly away through the mountain forests. They were the last to depart—and the only group to leave unscathed.
“Goodbye, big sisters! When you come back, don’t forget to bring some sweet beast milk—like Snow-Scaled Leopard’s or Ice-Plain Elephant’s!” Little Rascal called out loudly. The village erupted in laughter as the children chanted in unison, “At four he still drinks milk, chasing sparrows like little Hao Hao!” With the great crisis passed, the villagers relaxed, their laughter ringing out warmly.
Little Rascal’s eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed as he muttered in defense, “I just wanted to see what Snow-Scaled Leopard’s milk looks like—I heard it’s special. Don’t laugh, I wasn’t going to drink it!”
“Hahaha…” Shi Feijiao and the others ruffled his hair and pinched his rosy cheeks, amused by his antics.
Stone Village soon settled into quiet reverence. The villagers gathered solemn offerings, standing before the ancient willow in silent prayer. Their devotion seemed to resonate with the heavens, summoning a faint but unmistakable power. The elders, in particular, were awed—legends spoke of ancient rituals invoking such forces, but none had believed it possible until now.
Even the black ancestral medicine cauldron trembled faintly, its engravings of sun, moon, and ancient landscapes glowing subtly. Yet, none knew how to harness this mystic energy.
“If such power exists in a village rite, what might a kingdom-wide sacrifice unleash?” The elders shuddered at the thought, unwilling to dwell on it further.
The ceremony lasted deep into the night. Beyond the peaks, monstrous roars echoed through the primordial mountains—yet Stone Village remained an oasis of peace. From afar, the scorched willow stood sentinel, a single emerald shoot radiating a gentle halo that shielded the village like an untouchable sanctuary.
Meanwhile, the fleeing clans—Thunder Tribe, Purple Mountain Lords, Floating Luofu Marsh, and Golden Wolf Tribe—sped through the darkness without pause. Fear of the willow’s power drove them relentlessly onward.
The Golden Wolf riders, mounted on silver-scaled unicorns capable of traversing ten thousand miles in a day, reached their territory in four nights. Before the golden wolf-emblazoned tent, the exhausted warriors collapsed. The one-armed Bā Tú, half-conscious, gasped, “Elder… avenge us!”
In the lakeside kingdom of the Jiao Clan, a furious roar split the waters as Jiao Cang delivered his report. Elsewhere, in a sprawling city of millions, the ruling marquis brooded upon his throne, his presence like a purple sun pressing all to their knees.
Across five thousand miles, powerful clans stirred. Rumors of the lightning-scarred willow, the mountain’s treasure, and Stone Village’s sacred relics had reached them. Chieftains who hadn’t moved in years now prepared for war.
Days later, the Thunder Lord stood atop a shattered cliff, his body crackling with energy. “Something is wrong,” he rumbled, the land trembling beneath his voice. “The stronger you are, the more that willow unsettles you.”
From the mist-shrouded river emerged a shadow with eyes like lanterns. “This is the guardian that slaughtered my kin?” he mused, gazing toward Stone Village.
Two sunrises later, a golden gale tore through the wilderness, silencing every beast. Upon the high ground, the Golden Wolf Elder and his divine companion—a deceptively small but terrifyingly potent wolf—studied the willow. “Reborn from lightning’s wrath… This tree may be extraordinary indeed.”
Gathered at Stone Village’s borders, the mightiest of each clan plotted their next move—unaware that their actions would soon shake the very foundations of the wilderness.
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