“Then we fight from below,” he whispered.
The wind carried fragments: a fox’s scream layered over a woman’s laughter. The smell of burnt lilies. A low thrum that made Jiang’s teeth ache. He knew that voice. Daji had stopped hiding her nature weeks ago. Now she let the whole world hear her for what she was—a nine-tailed spirit wearing a queen’s skin, and wearing it thin. creation of the gods i: kingdom of storms
He raised his staff and struck the ground once. The mud beneath his feet cracked, and from the fissure rose a single clear note—not a sound, but a principle . The first tone of order. The one that said: here, water falls. Here, fire burns. Here, the dead stay dead unless I say otherwise. “Then we fight from below,” he whispered
“Master.” A young disciple tugged at his sleeve, rain streaming down a face too young for war. “The river. It’s… leaving.” A low thrum that made Jiang’s teeth ache