Jiang Zhiyu and Song Yueyao hadn’t yet recovered from their daze, staring blankly at the shocking red snow cradled in Chai Xiaomi’s palm.
Song Yueyao crouched down, gently holding Xiaomi’s frostbitten fingers—those pale, slender tips now indistinguishable from either frostbite or bloodstains.
“Xiaomi, what happened to Wu Li?” she asked, gripping Xiaomi’s hands firmly, her voice steady. “Don’t worry. We’re friends. Whether it’s braving a mountain of swords or a sea of flames, I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“Stop crying,” she said softly, wiping away Xiaomi’s tears with her hand. “Your tears are going to freeze.”
Jiang Zhiyu leaned in, touching a fingertip to the bloodied snow, rubbing it thoughtfully. His expression grew serious. “This blood is still fresh. He left not long ago. Let’s split up and search.”
He looked up at Chai Xiaomi, his tone steady and resolute. “Whether it’s some demon or evil spirit, I, as your senior, will fight to the death to save him. Besides, Wu Li’s skills are top-notch—this blood might not even be his.”
Though they still hadn’t pieced together what had happened, nor had time to wonder why they’d fallen asleep in the cave, their immediate reaction was the same: asking no questions, fearing no cost—just rushing to save Wu Li.
Chai Xiaomi stared at them, then abruptly wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.
Right. Now wasn’t the time to cry.
No more wallowing, Chai Xiaomi!
You have to rescue your husband!
Back when it all began, she was just a cannon fodder side character meant to thwart the villain from casting a love curse on the female lead—her mission was to push the villain toward his predetermined bad ending.
But now? She would give everything to rewrite Wu Li’s fate into a happy ending.
Chai Xiaomi pressed the red snow in her palm into the ground, sniffled hard, picked up her hat, and stood up. “Do you two know the fastest way to travel?”
Just then, the White Cat’s voice cut in from nearby. “Hold on, Xiaomi, girl. Let me find a sturdy enough bird, and we’ll set off.”
Chai Xiaomi turned to see him crouched on a slope, gazing up at the sky, muttering to himself. “This freezing weather makes it hard to find one. The journey’s far—we’ll need a strong, hardy creature.” He sighed. He did have a subjugated nine-tailed beast under his command, but it couldn’t fly. Impatience gnawed at him.
Chai Xiaomi paused, then asked, “Old Ji, do you also know where Wu Li’s gone?”
The White Cat, still staring upward, said firmly, “Into the heart of Mount Qi—the settlement of the Witch and Gu tribes.”
Without asking further, Xiaomi suddenly turned her head to the red serpent coiled on her shoulder. “Hongjiao, do you know how to summon Ah Nan?”
The eagle that Wu Li considered a friend, the one that would bring him fruit.
Hongjiao gave a nod, opened its snake mouth, flicked its tongue, and, mustering all its strength, let out a piercing whistle.
It had actually managed to mimic Wu Li’s whistle.
After a long wait, a distant cry echoed across the white, endless sky, piercing through the wind and snow, drawing closer.
A dark silhouette tore through the pale heavens, its wings spread wide like clouds cascading from the sky. An eagle swooped down, its feathers dusted with frost and snow, its sharp eyes like blades surveying the little group on the snowy ground.
It was Ah Nan!
Hope lit up Chai Xiaomi’s eyes. She couldn’t help but praise, “Who knew you, you fat snake, had such talent—you can imitate Lili’s whistle almost perfectly.”
Hongjiao had been feeling down about its master’s departure, but this compliment made it gently swish its tail in a touch of pride.
For now, it could only manage this breathy sound, but soon, it would be able to speak human language.
Normally, a serpent would need five hundred years of cultivation to take human form. But by staying close to its master—devouring demon beast inner pellets, and occasionally being fed a few drops of pure blood when its master was in good spirits—all of this had been a huge boost, greatly shortening its path to enlightenment.
“Wow! This one’s perfect—strong enough. Let it land on that open patch over there,” the White Cat said excitedly, eyeing the eagle that circled a few times before landing gently on Xiaomi’s shoulder. He raised a paw toward a patch of empty snow.
A bird on one shoulder, a snake on the other, with a petite girl squeezed in between—it was a pretty comical sight.
Chai Xiaomi was, indeed, barely standing. Her winter coat was already thick and heavy, and now, with the added weight, she was slightly hunched.
She reached up and stroked Ah Nan’s feathers. “Ah Nan, we need to find Lili. I’m counting on you.”
The eagle tilted its head, pressing its beak against her fingertips, eyes closed in enjoyment as if it understood. Then it flapped its wings and landed on the open ground, settling patiently in the snow.
The White Cat leaped onto the ground before the eagle, standing erect on all paws in the snow.
He pressed his paws together in a gesture of magical seals, eyes shut in deep concentration.
“By the power of heaven and earth, transform this spirit bird into a roc.”
A faint glow gathered between his paws. As he finished the eight-word incantation, beams of light wove into a net and suddenly wrapped around the eagle’s body.
The light blazed brighter, and the eagle’s form swelled within it.
In an instant, it had become a colossal bird that blotted out the sky. It raised its head and let out a cry, beating its wings once to push away the wind and snow all around.
Jiang Zhiyu stood to the side, watching silently. A double layer of worry flickered in his eyes.
One layer for Wu Li.
The other, for his Master.
He understood all too well: what his Master was doing now was defying the natural order.
For cultivators, demonic beasts were supposed to be anomalies, meant to be eliminated. His Master had always turned a blind eye, only subduing those that did harm, leaving harmless ones alone.
But now, the Master had actively channeled spiritual power to force an ordinary eagle into becoming a powerful monster.
This crossing of boundaries stirred a faint unease deep in Jiang Zhiyu’s heart.
More troubling still was that when his Master had spoken the words “Mount Qi,” he had glimpsed something flash deep in those cat-like pupils—an expression of all-out desperation. So fleeting, he almost thought it was an illusion.
Mount Qi.
That place seemed to be where everything had begun.
Boundless in territory, rolling mountain ranges stretching on, and scattered between the peaks were settlements of various tribes: Miao, Dong, Yi...
The most mysterious was the unclaimed, birth-ban tribal land hidden deep in the valleys, shrouded in miasma.
Back then, he had ventured from the Central Plains to those lands to search for Yaoyao. He had gone to Yuebai, a place on the very edges of Mount Qi. But this time, they were about to push deep into the heart of the Witch and Gu tribes—a land that people had never set foot in.
Now, the group had climbed onto the bird’s back.
Jiang Zhiyu sat between its wings, gazing down at the rivers and mountains that shrank in an instant, his thoughts drifting far.
The memories of his past few years always felt wrapped in a thin haze—like faint, sketchy outlines, vague and blurred. It wasn’t until Shiaomi and Wu Li appeared that every scene that followed took shape in detail, vivid and clear, as if splashed with thick, vibrant strokes.
He had a strange feeling: without Xiaomi, perhaps the four of them would never have gotten along as well as they did, and Wu Li might never have become his junior brother.
“Xiaomi,” he suddenly spoke, turning toward the girl staring fixedly into the distance.
Chai Xiaomi turned her head.
"I have a very strong premonition," Jiang Zhiyu said. "Wu Li will definitely be safe, because the story between us has only just begun."
The sun had just risen, and the first rays of light struck his face. Chai Xiaomi stared blankly for a moment, unable to tell if it was the sunlight or the protagonist aura that was shining so brightly.
Yet those words still brought her some comfort.
"Yeah!" She nodded hard, her eyes reddening again.
Seeing this, Song Yueyao gave Jiang Zhiyu a sharp knock on the head. "Quit stirring up emotions! You made her cry. For now, just practice your sword techniques and mental cultivation. Don't choke when it counts."
Amid the commotion, the White Cat was busy picking at the feathers on the eagle's back, muttering under its breath: "Oh dear, are my eyes deceiving me? Why does this bird's feathers look so familiar?"
Chai Xiaomi: "..."
