The dream did not fade. It shattered.

  A mountain of stone collapsed on his chest, crushing the air from his lungs. Ke Munan’s eyes flew

  open, his body lurching upright in the cot. Cold fire slicked his forehead. The phantom weight

  remained, a granite slab pressing on his soul. Across the narrow room, Luo Han was already sitting,

  his bull-like shoulders rigid, his eyes burning red in the gloom.

  “You too?” Luo Han’s voice was the low grind of shifting rock.

  “A call,” Ke Munan rasped, the words catching in his throat. A frantic drumbeat hammered against

  his ribs. “Like the mountain groaning in its sleep.”

  The security room door groaned open. Ya Mei stood framed in the doorway, a wraith carved from

  shadow. A faint, troubled light pulsed in her violet eyes. She held up a slip of talisman paper, the ink

  still bleeding into the fibers. A voice. In pain. From the heart of Flame Mountain.

  The stone’s groan had shaken them all from their sleep.

  Outside, the pre-dawn air was thin and sharp. Old Chen stood beside the transport, his face a mask

  of cracked earth. His hands twisted together, the creak of worn leather a frantic, rhythmic complaint.

  “Young mages,” he started, the words straining against a knot of tension in his throat. “The

  ravens… the bank knows.”

  “So fast?” Jin Luo’s surprise was a sharp crack in the silence.

  A bitter smile twisted Old Chen’s lips. “They said my supervision was lax. That he let a cart of stone

  currency be devoured by birds.”

  A stone settled in Ke Munan’s gut. Our fault. This is our fault. “We brought this trouble on you.

  We’re sorry.”

  “Nonsense.” Old Chen waved a hand, a gesture that felt brittle. The smile he offered was a fissure

  that didn’t reach his eyes. “Getting you this far was half the mission.” He pointed to several large

  packs piled on the ground. “I’m leaving these. Rations, water, windproof masks.”

  He pressed a hand-drawn map into Jin Luo’s hands, the paper rough as sandstone. “My route for

  twenty years. It will keep you clear of the worst stone whirlwinds.”

  “Old Chen, just tell them it was us!” Jin Gan’s voice erupted, sudden and fierce. “Tell them

  arrogant outsiders didn’t know the rules! That we insisted on camping out and you couldn’t stop

  us!”

  “Exactly.” Jin Luo shoved his glasses up his nose, his expression hardening. “Say the mages from

  Tongling were too proud for local advice. We’ll take the blame.”

  Old Chen stared, his eyes flooding with a sudden, bright moisture. “You kids…”

  “Go!” Jin Gan gave him a gentle shove. “The bank will flay you if you’re late. Remember, it’s all

  on us. A few harsh words won’t shatter our bones.”

  A long, deep look passed from the old man to each of them. He gave a single, sharp nod, his jaw

  setting like cooling lava. “Watch for the whirlwinds,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial

  whisper. He glanced around, as if the very rocks were listening. “And be wary. The bank, the

  caravans… something is wrong. Someone is watching outsiders. The mountain… it feels different.”

  The transport’s engine was a fading hum swallowed by the vast silence. They watched until it was

  just a speck in the morning mist.

  “Let’s go,” Ke Munan said, the pack a heavy weight on his shoulders. A heavier weight on his

  conscience. “It’s a long way.”

  They fell into step, their journey now a slow grind on foot. The ground clawed upwards, the air

  growing thin and hot, a furnace blast against their faces. In the distance, Flame Mountain’s

  silhouette sharpened. A coil of venomous purple mist shimmered around its peak, a toxic crown.

  “He’s a good man,” Jin Gan muttered. “I hope they don’t break him.”

  Three hours of burning sun and aching calves later, a stone checkpoint shimmered into existence out

  of the heat haze.

  “Temple Peak,” Jin Luo announced, his nose buried in a notebook. “A religious autonomous

  zone.”

  A guard at a gate fortified enough to repel an army gave them a granite-hard stare. “No loud

  noises. The gods are listening.”

  The moment they crossed the threshold, a wave of heat slammed into them. It was a physical blow,

  thick and suffocating. The sun above burned with a sickly green glint. The flagstones smoked, the air

  above them twisting in distorted waves.

  “Spirits, it’s a forge!” Jin Gan exclaimed. He tapped a roadside boulder with a metal finger. A

  sharp hiss of vaporizing moisture erupted, and he snatched his arm back. “You could temper a

  blade on these rocks.”

  Only the cool, ethereal melody of Ya Mei’s flute offered any relief, a stream of water poured over a

  fevered brow. They trudged onward until a magnificent temple, carved from the mountainside itself,

  promised the mercy of shade.

  “There,” Ke Munan said, his voice a dry rasp. “The Stone God Temple. We rest there.”

  The steps leading to the entrance were built for giants. By the top, even Jin Gan’s mechanical arm

  seemed to droop, steam rising from its joints. But with each step upward, the oppressive heat bled

  away, leeched out by a profound coolness that emanated from the temple’s very bones. They

  stumbled into the antechamber—the Pure Heart Hall—and a collective gasp of relief shuddered

  through them.

  “Alive,” Jin Gan declared, flexing his steaming hand. “I’m alive again.”

  Merchants were already resting inside, their faces slack with relief. As Jin Luo approached a

  missionary, a burly acolyte materialized beside them, his steps silent as falling dust.

  “Honored guests,” he said, his bow deep and formal. “Our abbot requests your presence.”

  A current of unease rippled through them. They exchanged glances. A trap?

  “The abbot?” Jin Luo’s brow furrowed. “We are merely travelers.”

  Huang Xiaohu folded his golden wings, his body coiling with tension. “This is wrong,” he

  whispered.

  The missionary’s smile was a polite, carved thing. “The abbot said that since distinguished guests

  from Tongling have come so far, he must extend his hospitality.”

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  Ke Munan met their eyes. They were caught. A river pulling them into the mountain’s heart. For

  now, all they could do was flow with it.

  The corridor was long and dim. Reliefs stormed across the walls, images of raw, primal power. Jin Luo

  stopped, his fingers tracing the lines.

  “The founding of the Stone Nation,” he murmured, his voice hollow with awe. A Stone God and a

  Fire God. Raising mountains from nothing. Breathing life into the earth. The stone itself seemed to

  hum with the memory.

  They entered a more solemn main hall. The only light bled from a single, sacred fire stone clutched

  in the hands of an immense statue of the Stone God. On a throne of granite sat an abbot, his white

  beard a frozen waterfall on his chest. He was so still he might have been carved from the same rock

  as his god.

  “Please, tea.” The abbot’s eyes drifted open. His voice was a deep, resonant hum that vibrated in

  Ke Munan’s teeth. “Your Grand Elder Shizong once stayed here for three days. You are welcome.”

  The mention of their master was a balm. The tension in Ke Munan’s shoulders eased. The tea was

  cool, a shock of life against his parched throat.

  The abbot’s gaze swept over them, ancient and heavy. It lingered, and his voice took on a strange,

  hollow echo. “I have invited you because… our Heavenly Venerable has requested your presence.”

  Before the last word faded, the great hall doors boomed shut. Stone ground on stone. The figures of

  the abbot and missionary dissolved into shadow, melting away as if they were never there.

  “A barrier!” Jin Luo’s voice was a shard of glass.

  Ke Munan’s hand flared. A sphere of light bloomed. An invisible force crushed it instantly. Darkness

  slammed back in. A faint green glow pulsed from the Stone God statue. A groan, deep and tectonic,

  shook the floor. The statue began to shift. Its massive form parted, revealing a dark, circular chasm in

  the floor.

  A figure drifted up from the hole. An impossible being of four massive, interlocking stone spheres

  that moved without friction, without sound. A living replica of the statue.

  The Stone God.

  Its gaze was the weight of millennia. It swept over them, indifferent, before locking onto Luo Han. An

  absolute authority flared in its stony eyes. Ke Munan tried to move, to shout, but his feet were fused

  to the floor. An invisible pressure pinned him, gentle but absolute.

  “The bloodline of the Flame Mountain Guardian…” The god’s voice was the slow grinding of

  continents. “You have returned.”

  A gesture. A flicker of will. Luo Han was lifted from the floor. He floated, powerless, a leaf in a storm,

  toward the dark maw.

  “Wait!” Luo Han’s voice was tight with struggle. “Senior, what are you doing? I don’t

  understand!”

  No answer. Only a deep, inscrutable look that held both ancient purpose and a flicker of regret. Luo

  Han cast one last, desperate glance at his friends before he and the god descended into the

  darkness. They vanished.

  The pressure released. Ke Munan staggered, his legs trembling. The doors remained sealed. They

  were caged.

  “Luo Han!” Ke Munan screamed into the chasm. The darkness swallowed the sound whole.

  “Locked in!” Red lights flashed on Jin Gan’s mechanical arm.

  “Split up!” Huang Xiaohu’s command was a whip-crack. “Find a mechanism! Another way out!”

  They scattered. Ke Munan’s hands skimmed the statue’s base. A groove. Inconspicuous. It

  hummed with a faint thrum of Earth energy against his fingertips. Ya Mei was suddenly at his side,

  her violet eyes devouring the ancient runes etched around it. Her face went taut.

  Her brush flew. Voiceprint lock. It needs a specific melody.

  Her hands gestured frantically. Where are the notes?

  “Wait!” Jin Luo’s eyes were squeezed shut. “The corridor! The reliefs!” He paced, his hands

  tracing patterns in the air. “The sequence… Stone God descends, three rumbles. Mountains rise,

  seven peaks. Fire God’s blessing, five pillars of fire…”

  A spark ignited in Ya Mei’s eyes. Her brush blurred across a fresh talisman. Three, seven, five. The

  beats. They match!

  Jin Luo leaned in, his own eyes widening. “Of course. The runes beneath the carvings… not

  decoration. An ancient musical scale!”

  Ya Mei returned to the statue. She closed her eyes. The jade flute rose to her lips. She didn’t play a

  melody. She played the sound of creation. A low, guttural note—tectonic plates grinding. A deep,

  resonant rumble that vibrated up through the soles of Ke Munan’s feet. A soaring, powerful

  tone—a mountain clawing for the sky.

  Primal notes pulsed through the hall. The runes hummed, glowing with a faint, sympathetic light. Ya

  Mei gestured, her eyes still closed. Now!

  Ke Munan gripped his crystal staff. He aimed its tip at the groove. He poured a steady torrent of

  Earth energy into the stone. The flute’s ancient call guided his power, weaving it with the sound,

  light and vibration becoming one.

  The final, deep rumble faded. The runes erupted in a dazzling blue light. The Stone God statue

  slowly, silently, parted once more, revealing a passage that plunged deep into the earth. A chill draft,

  smelling of dust and ages, breathed out to meet them.

  Ya Mei lowered her flute, her chest heaving.

  Jin Gan swallowed, the sound loud in the sudden silence. The lights on his arm flickered. “That…

  was the Stone God. We’re really going down there?”

  They stared into the bottomless dark.

  Ke Munan’s knuckles were white on his staff. “We have to.” His voice was raw iron. “Luo Han is

  down there. We don’t leave him behind.”

  The air tasted of damp stone and a silence so old it felt sacred. A cool balm seeped into Ke

  Munan’s skin, soothing the memory of the furnace above. The walls were hard, black rock, polished

  to a mirror sheen. Every few meters, a sacred fire lamp hung from the wall, its azure flame dancing, a

  captive soul.

  They moved in formation. Jin Luo scouting. Ke Munan and Huang Xiaohu guarding the rear. The

  passage twisted, sloping ever downward. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became, the

  silence pressing in like a physical weight. The initial chill gave way to a strange, latent warmth that

  seemed to radiate from the rock itself.

  “How much farther?” Jin Gan rapped his mechanical knuckles against the wall. “This path is

  endless.”

  “Very, very far… caw… caw…” Krupp’s two heads answered, their voices sharp and jarring.

  The warmth intensified. A faint heat pulsed against Ke Munan’s chest. His Golden Leaf Amulet was

  stirring, awakened. A subtle, green fragrance filled the air, tinged with a restless energy.

  Ya Mei’s fingers brushed his sleeve. She pointed. A tiny stream of water, glowing with a faint blue

  light, trickled from a crack in the rock. Delicate green shoots grew from the crevices, their leaves

  straining toward the light-infused water.

  Ke Munan touched its surface. A coolness spread from his fingertip, not biting, but alive.

  “It’s guiding us,” Huang Xiaohu said, his wings sensing the subtle currents stirred by the stream.

  Soon, circular blue rings of light bloomed on the cavern walls.

  “Guiding formations,” Jin Luo explained, his voice a reverent whisper. “Ancient cultivators used

  these to mark safe passages. Someone maintains them.”

  They passed through ring after ring. The colors shifted as they descended. Blue, to green, to yellow,

  to red.

  Huang Xiaohu stopped, his brow furrowed. “Water, Wood, Earth, Fire…” he murmured. “One is

  missing.”

  The moment they passed through the final, red ring, a wave of intense heat washed over them. The

  cavern walls now radiated a scorching energy. The amulet on Ke Munan’s chest grew hot, a burning

  coal against his skin. Tiny, golden-red specks of light danced in the air like fire sprites.

  “The Fire element,” Jin Luo said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Dangerously active.”

  The passage ended. A massive wall of obsidian blocked their path, seamless and absolute. The

  glowing stream pooled before it and vanished.

  “Metal!” Jin Luo’s realization was a sharp crack. “The generation cycle! Earth generates Metal,

  which dams Water!”

  Huang Xiaohu circled the wall, knocking. Solid. “A dead end.”

  Jin Gan rapped the obsidian with his knuckles. A metallic clink echoed. “But where’s the Metal

  element…” His words died. The sound. He stared down at his own gleaming mechanical arm. A slow

  grin spread across his face. “Well. He brought his own.”

  Jin Luo had found a hand-shaped indentation in the wall’s center. Jin Gan stepped forward. He

  pressed his mechanical hand into it. A soft click. It fit perfectly. A current of refined metal energy

  flowed from his palm into the obsidian.

  The black wall ignited with a platinum light. It spread from the indentation, forming a complete Five

  Elements formation. The cycle flowed—Water, Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal—a surge of power that

  washed over them. The obsidian dissolved like melting ice, transforming into a shimmering gate of

  light.

  “Nice one, tin can,” Huang Xiaohu clapped him on the shoulder.

  They stepped through. The gate vanished behind them. They stood in a vast, spherical chamber. The

  walls glittered with countless crystal fragments, an inverted sky of captured stars. Dozens of circular

  openings dotted the dome, each glowing with a different colored light.

  Ancient murals were faintly visible between the glittering ores. Armies of light clashing with legions

  of shadow.

  “The Twelve Flags of the Demon Clan,” Jin Luo breathed, his eyes wide with disbelief. Above the

  dark legions, a bottomless vortex was painted, a swirling abyss so terrible it seemed to warp the very

  stone around it.

  “Forget the murals,” Huang Xiaohu’s voice cut through the awe, sharp as a blade. He pointed to

  the center of the chamber. “Look.”

  Suspended in the dead center of the room was a massive crystal sphere, flawless and smooth. It

  hovered just above a white stone plinth, trembling with contained power. At its core, a fist-sized red

  gemstone pulsed like a living heart, engulfed in roiling flames.

  “Someone’s inside the gem,” Jin Luo said, squinting.

  Ke Munan stepped closer. A silhouette flickered within the flames. A small, human-like shape. A

  ghost trapped in a fiery nightmare.

  “The Stone God, and now this?” Jin Gan reached out. Ya Mei’s hand shot out, seizing his wrist.

  She held up a talisman. The runes were a stark warning. Sealing artifact. Do not touch. It will defend

  itself.

  Jin Gan snatched his hand back.

  “Is that the Fire God?” Ke Munan asked Krupp. “How do we talk to him?”

  Krupp just rolled its multifaceted eyes. “Caw… no idea.”

  There has to be a way. Ke Munan scanned the chamber, his eyes searching.

  Ya Mei closed her eyes, her fingers hovering inches from the sphere’s surface.

  “Feel anything?” Ke Munan asked softly.

  Her eyes snapped open. Her violet pupils trembled, shimmering with unshed tears. Her brush flew,

  the strokes blurred with haste. Luo Han…

  Jin Luo leaned in. “What about him?”

  Ya Mei forced her hand to steady, her writing becoming clearer. The one inside is the Fire God. He

  saw the Stone God take a young man marked by flame.

  “It’s Luo Han!” The words tore from Ke Munan’s throat.

  She nodded, her brush a frantic dance. The Fire God says… that boy will be turned to stone. Just like

  the others.

  “The others?” Jin Gan’s mechanical arm creaked.

  Jin Luo’s face was ash. “He means… Luo Han isn’t the first.”

  A violent shudder wracked Ya Mei’s body. Her eyes widened. He says he can save him!

  They crowded around her.

  He knows how to reverse the petrification, the talisman read. But we must free him. He swears on his

  honor as a god. He will help us.

  Huang Xiaohu’s wings rustled, a sound like dry leaves. “A trap? How can we trust a sealed god?”

  As he spoke, the Golden Leaf Amulet on Ke Munan’s chest blazed with heat, flooding him with a

  warm, familiar energy.

  “This feeling…” Ke Munan murmured, his hand covering the amulet. “It’s like the Golden Leaf.

  There’s no malice…”

  Ya Mei pressed a new talisman to the crystal’s surface. Words slowly bled onto the paper: Sadness.

  Loneliness. Rage at its prison. No malice.

  She looked up at Ke Munan. Her gaze was a steel blade. She gave a single, solemn nod.

  “It’s not a trap.” Ke Munan’s voice was low, certain. His grip tightened on his crystal staff, his

  gaze locked on the flickering silhouette. “There is no malice in him. Only pain. For Luo Han… we

  have to risk it.”

  As if in answer, his crystal staff began to hum. He walked to the sphere and slowly raised it. The tip

  neared the surface. The red gemstone at the sphere’s heart erupted with a blinding light.

  “It’s reacting!” Jin Gan shouted.

  The crystal sphere began to tremble violently. A high-pitched scream tore through the air. Cracks

  spiderwebbed across its surface.

  “Get back!” Huang Xiaohu shielded them with his golden wings.

  With a deafening crash, the sphere shattered. A million translucent shards hung suspended in the air,

  a swirling storm of frozen light. The unbound gemstone blazed. The flames coalesced—a head, a

  torso, limbs—a complete human form taking shape in the blinding red glare.

  “Hahahaha, I’m finally out!”

  The voice that echoed through the chamber was not the boom of an ancient god. It was the gleeful

  shriek of a child.