The caravan pressed onward, though at a far more leisurely pace than usual. The rhythmic thud of massive paws and hooves against the earth was almost soothing today—a steady, unhurried cadence compared to their usual breakneck sprint.

  Kai rode atop Snow, the great white wolf moving with effortless grace, his breath curling in the crisp air. Lulu perched on Igni’s back, her posture relaxed for once, while Gin lounged lazily atop Cres, the massive elk-like spirit beast whose antlers gleamed in the pale sunlight.

  The three disciples—Lu Bu, Chen Gong, and Zhang Liao—were clustered together on Ning’s broad back, surrounded by a few of the smaller spirit beasts who had taken it upon themselves to act as living guardrails, ensuring none of the mortals stumbled off during travel. It was an amusing sight—Lu Bu sitting ramrod straight like a soldier on parade, Chen Gong scribbling notes even while in motion, and Zhang Liao gripping the harness with white-knuckled determination, still not entirely used to the sensation of riding a beast that could trample trees without breaking stride.

  Kai was debating whether to order the group to pick up the pace. Not because they needed to—the terrain was mild, and they were making decent progress—but because Gin had been particularly irritating today.

  No sooner had they settled into their slower rhythm than Gin had nudged Cres closer to Snow, the elk falling into step beside the massive wolf with ease. It wasn’t hard—all the spirit beasts tended to drift toward Kai when given the chance, as if drawn by some unseen pull.

  And Gin, ever the opportunist, had taken full advantage.

  "So," Gin began, leaning forward with an unsettling grin, "about those dreams of yours."

  Kai suppressed a groan.

  Ever since he’d mentioned the brewing techniques from his otherworldly visions, Gin had become obsessed. He’d pestered Kai relentlessly for details—what grains were used, what fermentation processes, what strange, exotic flavors existed in that distant world.

  What Kai found most baffling was that Gin didn’t even seem to like drinking all that much. Oh, he did it—frequently, and with dramatic flair—but it was clear his indulgence was more about feeding his addiction than savoring the taste.

  No, what Gin truly enjoyed was the craft of it.

  The process. The alchemy of turning simple ingredients into something potent.

  And now, with nothing better to do, he’d decided today was the day Kai would spill more of his secrets.

  "That ‘whiskey’ stuff you mentioned," Gin pressed, undeterred by Kai’s silence. "How long did you say it aged? And what’s this about ‘charred oak barrels’? That can’t be right—wouldn’t that make it taste like burnt wood?"

  Kai exhaled sharply through his nose. "It’s not literally burnt. The charring—"

  "And vodka!" Gin barreled on, eyes alight. "You said they distilled it how many times? That’s insane! The amount of fuel you’d waste—"

  "Gin."

  "—and tequila! What kind of madman looks at a cactus and thinks, ‘I should ferment this’? Was this ‘Mike’ person some kind of drunken sage?"

  Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I answer your questions, will you shut up for the rest of the day?"

  Gin’s grin widened. "No promises."

  Lulu, watching from Igni’s back, smirked. "Just tell him, Kai. Otherwise, he’ll keep this up all the way to Northend."

  Kai shot her a betrayed look.

  Snow, ever the traitor, let out a quiet chuff of amusement.

  With great reluctance, Kai began explaining—the basics of distillation, the differences between ales and lagers, and something called a "mimosa", which Gin declared an abomination upon hearing it contained fruit juice.

  To his surprise, Gin listened with rapt attention, occasionally interrupting with surprisingly insightful questions. It was the most focused Kai had ever seen him—no slurring, no dramatics, just genuine curiosity.

  "Huh," Lulu murmured, watching Gin scribble notes on a scrap of parchment. "Maybe there’s hope for him yet."

  Kai highly doubted it.

  Gin shifted gears with the subtlety of a charging bull. "Also," he drawled, swirling the dregs of his gourd for emphasis, "was this ‘Mike’ person some sort of spirit beast tamer in his world? Is that why they follow you?"

  Kai exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "You think the spirit beasts follow me because of my dreams?" He gestured to Snow, who was underneath them. "It’s not that at all. I treat them with kindness. With love. That’s all there is to it."

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  Gin blinked. Then burst out laughing. "Oh, come on," he wheezed, wiping his eyes. "You’re telling me these beasts—that could rip a man in half without breaking stride—listen to you because you love them? They followed you into Zan, a qi-starved wasteland, because of love?"

  Kai didn’t flinch. "Yes."

  Gin’s laughter died. He stared at Kai, waiting for the punchline. When none came, his expression twisted into disbelief. "You’re serious."

  "If you loved someone," Kai said quietly, "wouldn’t you dive into hell to save them?"

  A beat of silence.

  Then—

  "No," Gin snorted. "I don’t think so."

  Kai’s gaze didn’t waver. "Then you’ve never truly loved."

  The air between them grew heavy.

  Gin opened his mouth—to protest, to mock, something—but the words died in his throat. Because in that moment, he saw it.

  The way Snow pressed closer to Kai, not out of obedience, but because he wanted to.

  The way Ning, the colossal Quake Buffalo, would turn her head just slightly whenever Kai spoke, as if every word mattered.

  The way even Igni, prideful and aloof, tolerated Lulu’s presence not because he had to, but because somewhere along the line, he’d chosen to.

  These weren’t tamed beasts. They weren’t bound by force or trickery.

  They were family.

  And they would follow Kai anywhere.

  Gin looked away first.

  He took a long swig from his gourd, but the liquor tasted hollow, more so than usual.

  Kai didn’t press. He didn’t need to.

  Some truths were too loud to ignore.

  After their tense exchange, Gin fell into an uncharacteristic silence, leaving Kai in peace—at least for now. The group pressed onward, cresting a rugged hill, when an unexpected sight brought them to a halt.

  Before them stretched a vast lake, its surface obscured by thick plumes of steam rising from the center. The water churned violently, bubbles breaking the surface in great, rolling bursts, as if some colossal beast lurked beneath, breathing fire into the depths.

  Kai squinted through the haze. "Is that… a hot spring?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

  "Master Kai!" Zhang Liao called out from Ning’s back, his voice uncharacteristically animated. "That’s a boiling lake! It means we’re getting close to Northend!"

  The words triggered a memory—Taimyr, the Windrider chieftain, had once mentioned something about boiling lakes in relation to Northend. Kai nudged Snow forward, the great wolf padding closer to Ning so they could speak more easily. The three disciples watched as Kai approached, their expressions a mix of curiosity and excitement.

  "What’s this about Northend?" Kai asked.

  Zhang Liao straightened, his usual reticence giving way to rare enthusiasm. "I traveled here once with my tribe. The elders said that when you start seeing boiling lakes, you’re nearing the Land of Giants."

  Chen Gong’s eyes lit up with scholarly interest. "Does Northend have more geothermal activity than the rest of Zan?"

  Kai arched his brow. "Are hot springs common in Zan?"

  "Oh, yes," Chen Gong said, adjusting his sleeves in that prim way he did when about to deliver a lecture. "They’re scattered all across the territory, but they become more frequent the farther you get from the southern border. Some of the larger central cities are built directly atop geothermal vents—they channel the heat to warm their homes and power massive greenhouses. It allows them to cultivate plants from nearly any climate, regardless of the season."

  Kai studied the churning waters, the geothermic energy radiating through the mist in visible waves. If this marked the threshold of Northend, then their grueling journey was finally nearing its end. But more than just a landmark, this place represented possibility.

  The boiling lake wasn't merely a curiosity—it was a resource. In the harsh winters of Northend, this natural heat source could mean warmth against the killing cold. A constant water supply that wouldn't freeze solid. Perhaps even energy to harness for crafting.

  But it was Chen Gong's mention of greenhouses that truly ignited Kai's imagination.

  Until now, he had assumed that growing non-native crops in Zan would be impossible because of the region's infamous freezing rains that could strike without warning, even in what passed for summer here. A single storm could destroy delicate seedlings in hours.

  Yet if he could build a greenhouse heated by geothermal vents...

  The vision unfolded in his mind with startling clarity:

  A sturdy structure of thick glass and treated timber, its foundation built over a carefully channeled hot spring. The earth's warmth would keep the interior temperate even as blizzards raged outside. He could grow summer crops in deep winter, cultivate medicinal herbs that normally withered in Zan's climate, perhaps even experiment with crossbreeding hardier strains with his otherworldly knowledge.

  It wouldn't be easy. The engineering would require precise planning—too close to the heat source and the plants would scorch; too far and they'd freeze. He'd need to account for ventilation, irrigation, protection from the elements...

  But for the first time since leaving the cultivation world, Kai felt the spark of genuine purpose. Not just survival, not just escape—but building something. A true home.

  "We're close then," Kai murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "And when we arrive... we'll do it right."

  No more temporary shelters. No more rootless wandering.

  He would build a foundation—literally and figuratively. Proper housing first, then workshops, training grounds, and finally that greenhouse... A place where his disciples could grow, where his spirit beasts could thrive, where he could finally put down roots without looking over his shoulder.

  The journey north had been about running away.

  Now, it was time to start building toward something.

  And as Kai turned back to the caravan, the path felt lighter than they had in years.

  The future, for the first time in a long time, looked bright.

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