He believed he could save the world.
I let his thoughts become mine; I let my qi become earth, let our minds settle like fresh soil under the sun. And then I was in.
“I warned you not to disrupt the energy flow.” Baihu’s voice was like sharp claws trailing your skin. Soft yet lethal. “The veil is splintering. But you cannot allow the realms to merge. We are nothing without balance.”
“I know what I’m doing!” Kuro had shouted back. “Why can’t you trust me?”
Kuro’s mental shields slammed up against me before I could overhear more of their conversation. Blinking against the morning daylight, I squinted up at him. Baihu did not wish the realms to merge? Then the tiger’s goals were not the same as the dragon’s?
As I pondered this, dozens of rebels assembled behind Kuro, led by Jinya, who was now armed to the teeth. I drew my own sword.
Jinya tensed, but Kuro did not lift a hand. “Don’t make me fight you,” he warned. “You know this is a battle you cannot win.”
“Even your spirit master has more sense than you do,” I spat. “If you continue down this path, you’ll do more than destroy the ruling regime. You’ll destroy the world itself.”
His eyes were bitter and bright with scorn.
“Everyone wants change,” he said, lip curling, “but no one wants to pay the price of revolution.”
I felt Lei’s presence by my side, and I took strength from his aura of calm. I shot him a questioning look, and in answer, he gave me an infinitesimal nod.So be it, then.
I tightened my grip on my sword. “I will not join you,” I said, my voice carrying across the silent campgrounds. “My loyalties do not lie with Anlai, nor with any other regime.” I swallowed, wondering how much to tell him. Wondering if I had a choice now, surrounded and outnumbered.
I squared my shoulders. “I told you I am journeying to First Crossing. I did not tell you why. The truth is, I am seeking Zhuque’s eternal spring—to relinquish my spirit power, and to give up my bond to the Azure Dragon.”
Kuro’s mouth went slack. Then his face hardened with repulsion. “You’re mad,” he growled.
“Yes.”
The veins in his neck bulged. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But it is my mistake to make.”
Kuro looked furious at this. His men tensed behind him, readying for battle. Yet Jinya was the first to sheathe her blade. The sound, so incongruous in the tense silence, caused even Kuro in his anger to hesitate.
“Kuro,” Jinya said quietly, and some of his anger dimmed as heturned to his right hand. “Remember the core tenets of the Black Scarves. You cannot force her.”
The rebel leader wore his emotions openly, so that I could see the warring resentment and irritation on his face, the mutual desire and disgust.
At last, he swung toward me. I anchored my qi, but he only said, “Fine. Seal your own prison.” With a derisive laugh, he beckoned for a nearby rebel, who passed him a pair of iron bands, identical to my former set.
“Since you so love your chains,” he said, throwing the irons at my feet. My cheeks burned at the humiliation, but I kept my head held high.
“You think you’re unstoppable,” I said. “I would know—I was there once. But the time will come when you realize that power always demands a price. And that price may be more than you’re willing to pay.” My hands were shaking; I lowered them to my sides. “By then, it may be too late. The one paying will not be Baihu. It will be you.”
I could tell my warning fell on indifferent ears. When he met my eyes, there was not a hint of doubt or uncertainty within them.
“If you will not join me, Phoenix-Slayer, then do not stand in my way.”
Twenty-Eight
In the wake of the war, Zhong Wu came to be known as the City of the Dead. The fallen lay strewn along the roads, untouched and unburied, for none dared approach, fearing the plague clinging to their spirits. And so, silence claimed the city, where even the wind dared not mourn the unburied souls.
—Commentary on Warring States Period, 822
Kuro let us go freely,but he was not without his spite. He took from us our horses, our provisions, even our former clothes. But it did not matter. Lei and I were used to surviving, and neither of us were strangers to suffering.
For three weeks we journeyed on foot, taking the long route around Zhonghai Lake to avoid the Anlai warlord and his five-hundred-man contingent. By the time we reached Mount Fuxi, spring was well on its way. The air had grown fragrant with budding hydrangeas and plum blossoms, and the forest songbirds had returned with the advent of clear skies and warm weather.
