Zhì Yuǎn turned his back on the cot and left the cabin, walking under the fine rain toward the eastern bamboo grove.
Inside the room, Yù Qíng remained alone with her sister.
The eldest crossed her arms and looked down. The teenager slept deeply on the cot, her face still swollen from crying so much. The nail marks that Yù Méi had left on Zhì Yuǎn's chest still burned in her memory. Irritation rose hot in Yù Qíng's throat. But along with the jealousy came also a pang of pity. The youngest had lost everything in a single night. Her gaze, once soft and dependent, now carried something darker.
The heavy creak of iron wheels cut through the silence of the rain.
Through the window, Yù Qíng saw Zhì Yuǎn maneuvering the draft beasts. He positioned the Mobile Palace right against the cabin's veranda and entered the room. He wrapped Yù Méi in a thick blanket and carried her to the carriage. He laid her limp body on the wide cushioned seat and closed the Ironwood door.
When he returned to the room, Yù Qíng was still standing in the center of the floor.
Zhì Yuǎn stopped in front of her. His broad arms moved forward and pulled her against his chest. He lowered his face and pressed his warm lips to her forehead, lingering in the touch.
— Let's lie down — he murmured, his deep voice vibrating against her skin. — Tomorrow is going to be a long day.
Yù Qíng closed her eyes and gripped his back tightly. She buried her face in her husband's broad chest, breathing in the scent of rain and linen. The two sank into the mattress in silence.
The night advanced. The rain stopped, but the mountain cold descended heavily.
Inside the carriage, Yù Méi woke up shivering. The cold wind entered through the cracks and cut into her skin. She hugged her knees for a while, but the trembling didn't pass. The loneliness inside the vehicle was suffocating.
The girl stood up, opened the carriage door, and crossed the veranda barefoot. She stopped at the threshold of the couple's room.
The faint light of the waning moon entered through the window. Yù Qíng was lying on her side, her black eyes open in the dimness. Zhì Yuǎn slept facing the wall, his broad back rising and falling in a slow rhythm.
— A-Qíng… — Yù Méi's whisper came out hoarse, her voice destroyed by the screams from hours earlier. — It's very cold outside.
Yù Qíng's jaw locked. Her dark irises glared at the trembling figure standing in the doorway. For a second, two feelings collided inside her: the urge to send her sister away and the realization that the youngest was truly suffering. The irritation boiled, but pity won by a narrow margin.
With a sharp sigh, Yù Qíng pulled the edge of the blanket aside, making space on the side of the bed.
— Come in. Stay quiet and don't wake him.
Yù Méi entered the room. Instead of going to the space her sister had opened, she climbed directly onto the bed and crawled over Yù Qíng, moving to the middle. Her small body sank into the mattress between the two. The cold in her bones guided the girl straight toward the heat radiating from Zhì Yuǎn's back. Without hesitation, she curled her knees and buried her forehead between his broad shoulder blades. Her two small hands grabbed her brother-in-law's gray tunic, as if that warmth was the only thing that still made sense in the world.
Yù Qíng narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. She simply pulled the blanket back over the three of them, covering her sister with a little more force than necessary.
The trembling from the cold ceased within seconds.
But another trembling began right after.
Yù Méi tightened her fingers on the tunic. The warmth that warmed her face was the same that had destroyed everything she had. The contradiction hurt more than the cold. She buried her face harder against his back. The sobs came without warning, hoarse and muffled against the man's warm skin.
Her hands clenched tightly around the fabric. She pulled with short, desperate tugs, her knuckles still bruised. The tears ran hot down Zhì Yuǎn's broad back, soaking the gray linen. She said nothing. She just cried, her small body shaking against his back with every sob.
On the other side of the bed, Yù Qíng narrowed her eyes for a second. Then she moved closer from behind her sister. Her slender arms wrapped around Yù Méi's trembling body over the blanket, pulling her against her chest. She rested her chin on top of the youngest's head and whispered, her voice low and hoarse:
— It's… okay to cry. Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.
The words came out strange in her mouth. Yù Qíng had never comforted her sister like this before. But now, with the girl's body shaking with sobs against her chest and against her husband's back at the same time, she couldn't stay still.
On the other side of the bed, Zhì Yuǎn remained motionless, his face turned toward the wall, his broad back supporting the weight of the youngest's crying.
The sun rose and marked their final hours in the valley.
Outside, the copper-scaled beasts pulled the harnesses. The iron wheels rolled across the dirt ground and the carriage left the ashes of Qīngshān behind.
They did not follow the empire's official routes. Instead, they circled the great eastern bamboo grove from the outside and cut through the forest for several kilometers until they found an old, little-used road that descended toward the southeast — one of the ancient cultivator routes, wilder and less watched.
The journey lasted three days.
The interior of the Mobile Palace was wide and luxurious, well isolating the sway of the wheels. During the trip, the couple took a break from dual cultivation.
Zhì Yuǎn and Yù Qíng spent the days accompanying the youngest during meals, preventing Yù Méi from isolating herself during this time of mourning.
The forged flesh of the two no longer required food to survive. Even so, they stopped the carriage and set up camp for about an hour every day, purely to keep the girl company. Zhì Yuǎn entered the forest and hunted wild animals, while Yù Qíng cleaned and roasted the meat over the campfire. Whatever was left of the carcasses, they threw to the two draft beasts to eat.
On the afternoon of the third day, the tree line of the forest thinned. The smell of wet undergrowth disappeared, replaced by the dry wind of the Golden Prairies that began to appear on the horizon.
But before they could reach the more open part of the road, the carriage gave a strong jolt and came to a complete stop.
The copper-scaled beasts planted their paws in the dirt and backed up, trembling. The path was blocked.
A Treebark Bear occupied the middle of the road.
The beast was three meters tall. The monster's skin secreted a sap that dried upon contact with the air, covering its entire body with a natural armor as hard as thick tree bark. The bear opened its jaws and huffed, releasing a breath that smelled of old blood. The carriage had invaded its hunting ground.
Sitting on the driver's seat, Zhì Yuǎn simply swayed with the sudden stop. His hands remained loose on the reins. He did not draw any weapon and made no move to stand.
He turned his face back and looked at Yù Méi through the small barred window of the cabin.
His gaze held no urgency. It was not an order. It was simply a look that said:
"If you don't do it, no one will do it for you."
Yù Méi felt her chest tighten. The Primordial Gold that Zhì Yuǎn had fused into her sternum days earlier responded as if it had been called. The girl rose from the cushioned seat. She closed her hands into fists and squeezed her fingers tightly. Her bones cracked loudly, making a dry sound that competed with the bear's growl outside.
Yù Méi opened the carriage door and stepped down onto the road.
Her boots struck the ground with force. She looked at the three-meter-tall bear and, for a second, her body froze. Her mind couldn't process the size of the beast. Fear rose so quickly that she almost took a step back.
The bear roared and charged. The hot breath smelling of old meat hit the teenager's face directly.
Yù Méi did not retreat. She planted her feet on the beaten earth, twisted her waist, and threw her right shoulder forward. Her fist struck squarely in the middle of the monster's snout.
The sound was like dry wood cracking. The tree-bark armor on the bear's face gave way. Dark blood sprayed from the beast's nostrils. But Yù Méi's hand tore at the same moment. Her knuckles skinned badly against the wood and burned with raw flesh.
The pain did not stop the bear. The beast growled loudly and brought down a giant paw toward her head.
Yù Méi drew in air and tried to step back. But the edge of the road was full of loose dirt. Her boot slipped. She fell hard onto her back, the impact knocking all the air from her lungs. Pain exploded in her back. Before she could roll, the bear was already on top of her. The giant mouth descended, drooling blood, aiming for her neck.
Yù Méi acted on pure instinct. She curled her legs against her chest and kicked upward with all the strength she had.
Crack.
The sound of breaking bone was loud. The bear was thrown to the side, whimpering in pain. Yù Méi rolled on the ground and stood up quickly. Her heart was beating so hard she could barely think. She didn't plan anything. She simply ran toward the beast that was still trying to get up and mounted its chest.
Her left hand grabbed the thick fur of its neck, pinning the monster's head against the ground. Her right hand closed into a fist again.
She struck downward, without stopping, as if her arm were a hammer. The first punch sank into the side of the bear's head. The second broke its lower jaw, scattering broken teeth and blood on the ground. She struck a third time, a fourth, until the giant body stopped trembling and died completely.
The road fell silent.
Yù Méi remained mounted on the animal's carcass. Her chest rose and fell quickly. She looked at her own hands. Her fingers were torn and bleeding, stained with the bear's thick blood that now marked her golden dress.
She stayed there, gasping, feeling the sting of the cuts and the smell of blood. A primitive, heavy relief took hold of her. The girl wiped her hands on her torn dress and looked up, toward the carriage.
On the driver's seat, Zhì Yuǎn remained seated. His gaze evaluated the bear's carcass and the girl's injured hands. He said nothing.
Beside him, Yù Qíng did not smile. Her voice came out dry and practical:
— Stop staring at your own blood and open the beast's chest, Méi. The Spiritual Core of this plague is food for our draft beasts. Tear it out.
Yù Méi blinked. The relief of combat vanished.
— Open it with what? — she asked, her breathing still ragged.
Zhì Yuǎn pointed his calloused finger at the bear's destroyed chest.
— The main bone is already broken. The cartilage is crushed. Use your hands. Our beasts need fresh energy after the scare. Sink your right hand a palm's width below the base of the neck. The hard stone pulsing heat inside there is what makes the carriage move fast.
Yù Méi's stomach turned. The lesson hit directly: killing wasn't enough. She had to loot.
The girl clenched her teeth. She spread her right hand, drove her skinned fingers into the crack of the broken bone, and pushed.
The sound of tearing flesh was wet on the road. The heat of the bear's entrails covered the teenager's wrist. Yù Méi sank her arm halfway in. Her fingers groped through the thick blood until they struck a rigid, rough ball the size of a walnut. She grabbed the stone and pulled in one motion.
Her dirty hand emerged from the hole holding the core. The opaque stone was covered in blood and emitted a faint heat.
The stone pulsed with a weak, almost living heat. Spiritual Cores like that were what kept draft beasts moving long distances without needing constant food. It was concentrated, pure, raw energy. Without them, a carriage like the Mobile Palace would lose much of its speed and endurance.
— Wash that in a puddle of water and get back up here — Yù Qíng said. — The smell of dead animal on your clothes attracts more problems on the road.
The girl cleaned the stone and her hand in the rainwater accumulated in the ditch, walked to the carriage, and extended her arm. She placed the sphere directly into Zhì Yuǎn's large palm.
He did not store the stone. He turned his body on the seat and tossed the core into the air, toward the two copper-scaled beasts harnessed to the front.
The two beasts did not hesitate. Their draft discipline vanished. They lunged together, their heavy carapaces colliding in a violent, ravenous fight.
The beast on the right was faster. It closed its mouth over the stone and swallowed it in one gulp.
While the victorious animal chewed, the beast that lost stayed in place. It fixed its yellow eyes on its companion with a heavy, fixed, murderous hatred, as if it wanted to rip open the other's belly right there.
Zhì Yuǎn let out a short, dry laugh through his nose at the pettiness of the animals. He pulled hard on the thick leather reins. The jolt hurt the beasts' mouths. They snorted, forgot the fight, and began pulling the iron wheel again.
The armored carriage advanced, leaving the bear's carcass to rot in the mud. Zhì Yuǎn pulled hard on the reins and turned the vehicle southwest, correcting their course. They had gone too far southeast. The goal was the deep south, not the Golden Prairies.
For three more days they traveled.
The terrain changed several times. They left the open plains behind and entered narrow valleys cut by fast rivers. They climbed stone plateaus and descended ancient roads that wound between low hills. The air was dry, the wind constant. Occasionally they spotted ancient ruins half-buried in the earth — remnants of something that existed long before the current era.
Only on the fourth day did the heat begin to grow heavier.
The wind that struck the carriage lost its freshness. The soil became redder and more cracked. A distant smell of sulfur began to appear in the air, faint still, but present. The Far South had not arrived all at once. It was approaching slowly, as if the terrain itself warned that they were getting too close.
On the driver's seat, Zhì Yuǎn continued pulling the reins in silence. The mountain and valley they had left behind were already very far away.
Now there was only the road ahead — and whatever awaited them in the south.