When Huang Jin made it past the Hall of Bells for the second time, the giant monk was not sitting down. Its immense stone form stood straight up, framing the Gate of the Wood Sovereign as though he were part of the structure. His great arm beckoned the child through the door, opened the merest crack; to him, it loomed as tall as a mountain and wider than any river.

  Once through the opening, darkness consumed his vision. The floor was different, not tiled, and no light from the previous chamber came through to illuminate the sacred core of the palace. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found that he stood on a promontory. Illumination filtered up from the shadows below the outcrop; a shimmering river of green and blue light snaked through the darkness.

  That one source of light did little to dispel the gloom. The longer he stood there, trying to make out the shape of cave walls in the dark, the more oppressive he found the air. Qi was an energizing substance to a cultivator, but the amount in the chamber utterly overwhelmed him. Every breath took great effort, as though he were simultaneously on top of a mountain and at the bottom of the sea.

  Something moved. Like a huge animal moving underwater, he could feel it long before he could make out its shape; a vast shadow blocked out even the dim glow of the river.

  An eye opened, larger than Huang Jin’s entire body. All his life, people told him that the palace facilities formed concentric circles in mimicry of a dragon’s eye. Now, he realized what that meant. Rings within rings, glimmering brighter than stars. There were palaces and fields and caverns within that eye, long ages of unknowable wisdom, and power, power, power.

  Words died in his mind. His precious question vanished like smoke before the radiance of his progenitor. He pressed his face into the ground in a kowtow, without any conscious thought.

  The gaze of the Wood Sovereign remained steady. A voice like wind through fragrant pines reached the prince’s reeling mind. “You will speak.”

  The prince spoke. Or, he thought he did. When the words finally emerged, they were so quiet that he was sure they hadn’t really left his head. He had practiced the question so many times in his chambers, and on the long walk here. It was eloquent, humble, full of praise for his Ancestor and acknowledgement of history and lineage, etcetera. Now, only the words, “Thank you,” actually came out.

  The interview might have ended right there. But the light from the Ancestor’s eye did not fade. Somehow, getting even a single sentence out allowed the child to gather back his thoughts. “Um, Great and Honored Ancestor, father of my father’s fathers, I ask this boon of you: please, tell me where I might find the Immortal of the Great River.”

  Silence reigned. The eye closed, and breath filled Huang Jin’s awareness. Even the Ancestor’s breathing increased the feeling of power in the air. His eyes had by now adjusted to the darkness of the space, and he could make out some features of the rocky surface beneath him. Scales.

  The mighty, yet comforting voice lifted again. “Raise your head, child.”

  As he did so, he couldn’t help taking a look around, now that he could make out more details. Scales on the walls. The Ancestor’s body made up every surface of the cave. His eye was once more open and trained on the boy sitting on bent knees atop his hand.

  Another vast shape appeared from the gloom, and this time it was recognizable. A claw extended, the merest edge longer than a draft horse. Huang Jin offered no resistance, as if the mystical atmosphere had abraded his ability to feel fear. The talon made contact with his forehead, and force shot into his brain.

  A map, appearing in glowing light. He recognized much of it from what he had seen around the palace and in the Archive. There was the City of the Gate, to the East lay the ocean, the provinces and the borders in all the right places. Five points emitted a brilliant light and a symbol he had never seen before. Without any further instruction, he knew that these were known dwellings of the Immortal of the Great River; locations she had some association with.

  The boon had been granted. The prince planted his face back into the scaled surface three times in thanks. “I don’t know if I can ever repay you for this kindness-” he started, but the deep voice rose again to cut him off.

  “A child takes some rearing, and repayment is a distant matter,” it said. “But if you find it of some concern, bring to me a tale of the Relic when you return. A single missive in a mortal lifetime… the fate of those who are content to watch the world turn.” Then the lid closed, and a creaking sound behind told the prince that the great doorway had opened again.

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  He had directions, and a mission. He departed the chamber with slow movements borne of reverence, but he left with a greatly lifted spirit. That night, he fell asleep easily for the first time in a month.

  -

  His hope faded somewhat in the morning, as he realized the magnitude of the task left to him. Five locations. It really hit him shortly after getting dressed.

  Which one would she be in? How much ground could he possibly cover, at his age? Would the rest of the family even let him go? That last was a stupid thought; why would any of them feel the need to preserve him?

  He spent that morning in the Archive, again. This time, it was maps, maps, and more maps he sought… and he got more than he wanted. One grotto in his mental map lay smack in the middle of the Thundering Plains, another on the Sapphire Strait, then the White Mountains, the Great Grove Canyons, and the Whispering Gale Craters at the last. Visiting these locations, once each, would be a mighty once-in-a-lifetime journey for a mortal, and no easy task even for an experienced cultivator.

  A straight line between any of these locations would cut through the Wilds at many points. A Master’s Realm cultivator might have a chance, in the middle reaches of the Wilds; even a Brilliant Soul expert would balk at crossing through the heartlands. A lowly Student? Huang Jin would have to stick very close to the main roads, the Path of Lanterns, a winding journey that could take years or decades.

  He took his time researching distances, and looking for records of caravan routes to the main cities. He tried to plot out itineraries that would let him travel with the merchant-folk and their guards for as much of the journey as possible. He had already learned a little about merchants from Quanshui, and so this part of the process came easily, but the whole business offered very little hope. Even if he could locate and visit all five grottos, he could easily miss the Immortal if she were travelling.

  “All of that, and I have to get out before next month,” he muttered, slapping his forehead down on his temporary desk. He’d set himself up for the day in one of the more active portions of the Hall of Missives; the maps on the wall here were of superlative quality.

  Were the maps a good enough reason to choose to be in the bustling Hall that day? Or was there a greater force at work in his decision? In times to come, the prince would ask himself such questions repeatedly. Either way, at that exact moment, his sharp ears picked up the hushed tones of Zhong Quanshui jabbering with her coworker, not far away.

  “Yes, I read it twice! What do you make of it?”

  “Well, it’s above my lot-” Her conversational partner had a more sensible take on information security.

  Quanshui, and for this Huang Jin blessed her a thousand times, forged on unthinking. “I hear they had enemies. Oh, all the Sects have enemies, but there’s enemies and enemies, you know…”

  The other scribe breathed through clenched teeth, but knew better than to try to stop her. The former tutor kept going, “The Roiling Pines Sect… they were quite adept at generating blood grudges. Hardly a wonder if it had to happen, it’d happen to them. I hear whoever did it, they didn’t touch the vaults- just left everything to the scavengers. The mortal attendants packed off half the treasures, apparently! Imagine, regular peasants wandering the roads with bottles of spirit-refining pills…”

  The prince turned his head to watch the rest of the conversation, just in time to see the other scribe shake her head. It was Kuihua, who ranked just below Quanshui in the hierarchy; just close enough to offer gentle chastisement. She did her best. “Zhong, I don’t know if we should be talking about resource movement. Imagine-”

  “Imagine! So close to the provincial capitol, too, and no trace left behind.”

  Kuihua went silent. She caved, going all in. “You’ve heard different stories than I have, then. I hear they found pearls scattered throughout the sanctuary.”

  “Pearls, just lying around? You’d think the peasants would have collected them on the way out.”

  “Well…” All traces of hesitation gone, she leaned in close, whispering. Huang Jin could just barely hear her continue, “They probably tried. I hear each pearl was just as heavy as a man. Probably, some special technique.”

  “Ooh,” Quanshui not-quite-whispered back. The prince barely heard her; he slid off his chair and raced for a good map of the established Sects.

  The Roiling Pines Sect was nestled in the southern regions of the White Mountains, in the green foothills rolling away from the peaks. It lay near the provincial capitol, as the scribes had said, but far from the City of the Gate. It was right next to one of the grotto locations.

  The other locations departed from his awareness. He didn’t need a winding path to hit all of them. He knew where she was! Not for long, maybe, but he had a lead! He had to take advantage, there was no predicting when an ancient expert might move on.

  Well, he was already in the hall of missives, surrounded by paper and ink of the finest quality. He was a Core Disciple of the Sect of the Imperial Household by birth, and so had the standing to make a direct petition.

  As he wrote, he couldn’t help laughing at himself. So many family records he would get to set! Youngest to Awaken, youngest to set out on the Dao Journey, and probably the youngest to die. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let that last thought pass. He did not plan to fade easily.

  They had to let him go. They had to.