"I do not want to be here… I do not want to be here," Chún thought desperately at his locus, the thought heavy with the cold damp of a riverbed before a storm. "Why can I not just leave?"
Images struck his mind—strangely muted and laboured, oddly hard to grasp within his mind's eye, but their meaning clear—dozens of snakes lashing like lightning if he drew their notice. He saw himself dying in agony from Essence-laden venom, crushed by merciless Essence-enhanced coils slick as wet stone.
Panic rose. He thought of sending Essence to the plants, as he had with the panther, or blasting the snakes with Metal Essence, as with the bear.
The link pulsed weakly, showing rough glimpses of both outcomes that flickered in and out of his thoughts like fire-lit shadows. In the first, the snakes moved faster than branches, roots, or vines. In the second, the blast—without height or a counter-strike—was weaker. The snakes would recover and kill him before he could flee.
"You are the Mountain – tell them to let me go! Please?" The link fell still. Silence. He fought tears. Nearest snakes turned, tongues flicking, catching his scent.
"Please do not notice me. I am nothing. Not important. Just a rock. Not a threat. Not warm… not here… not interesting." Eyes shut tight, he could still hear the slither and hiss. He sensed threads, coils, and curves of Essence winding through each snake.
Part of him might have marvelled at the sight, if he were not a dragon's whisker from death. The rest wanted only to vanish.
A faint nudge flickered through the link to his awareness—his own Essence taking shapes of hiding, silence, concealment, unremarkable, unimportant—pulsing with desperation.
Without thinking, he visualised the Rune of Unnoticed from his Heaven and Earth Vine cultivation. The character snapped into being, other shapes locking into place with soul-echoing thunder.
That quiet sensation of concealment and safety dropped over him. His perception shifted, as though veiled by mist—and his Essence sense dulled.
Even so, he saw agitation fade from the snakes' patterns. Curiosity replaced tension. Larger ones looked puzzled, then turned to the liveliest plants.
He opened his eyes slowly. Snakes flowed past without concern. Daring, he moved slightly. Nearby bodies redirected, calm.
Relief swelled. He had formed a pattern to remain present yet unremarkable—unless he chose to engage. He would not risk it. He would wait for them to settle before leaving.
"I wonder what the difference was this time," he murmured. "Other than that first willow, I never managed to coalesce the character properly. This time it came together without my direction—I just provided a mould..."
A voice slid into his mind, curling like smoke off warm river-water: Because your Dao wished to be hidden. It only lacked… direction, man-child.
The answer fell into place. He was used to voices in his head. "Of course! The little willow agreed only the worthy should see it. Every other time, I forced the pieces from outside."
He groaned into his hands. "That would not work, even if their Dao contained the right shapes—it was something I wanted… ugh, I was behaving like a Consumer."
Yes. The tone was slow, deliberate, each sibilant drawn out with a soft hiss like wind through reeds. He froze. "Mountain? That… is not you, is it?"
"No." The word rolled like scales over stone, with a faint hiss beneath. Amusement coloured the sound.
A laboured pulse from the link confirmed it, showing brief flashes of images: elaborately dressed groups making formal greetings, a child kneeling in respect to an elder, a memory of bowing to the willow, an apology to a shadow on a throne.
A high-ranking Ophidian Essence Beast. The fact it could see past the Essence-pattern of concealment meant it was powerful, skilled, or both—and for an Essence Beast, that level of mastery meant it was as ancient as the deep rivers. And it was behind him.
Resolutely, he lowered his hands, gaze respectfully averted, adopting a half-kneel with fists clasped in the manner taught for greeting honoured spirits. "Apologies for any discourtesy. May I rise and turn to greet the Respected Elder?"
A pause. The ground shuddered with the weight above, a deep vibration rolling through the earth as heavy coils shifted overhead, the sound of scales rasping like a landslide of pebbles. "Granted."
He rose without his staff, head bowed deep.
"This insignificant junior formally greets Respected Elder."
"Sso… you are the True Cultivator everyone has been gosssiping about… you may rise." The long hisses coiled through the words, carrying the taste of rain-heavy wind before a storm.
He straightened. And looked up. And up.
An enormous jiāolóng towered, coiled like a pillar of scale. Its spade-shaped head flared, crowned with ridged horns beneath the skin. The crown and its length marked it not yet a true dragon, but a flood dragon of legend, bringer of rain and floods, one step from ascending to the heavens. A black eye the size of his head stared unblinking.
"Flood Dragon… a thousand pardons, your Majesty," Chún stammered. "This lowly being did not mean to intrude…"
A deep rumble. The head dipped. "Not intrude? In Our clearing you fought… We would have been most displeased if it had been… damaged."
Chún paled, recalling the state of the clearing before he channelled the filtered wild Essence back into it.
A rush of briny, river-mud-scented breath as the jiāolóng laughed. "Your improvements are acceptable recompense. My subjects are pleased—it will help them grow stronger."
"I am glad to have been useful. With your Majesty's permission, I will take my leave."
"Wait." A hiss like a drawn blade. His neck hair lifted. A tiny silver snake slid from the forest, hissed, and wound up his leg.
"He will not harm you unless you attack first. We smell Metal Essence on you. None here is suitable for him. Feed him Metal Essence and he will guard your cave."
Chún blinked. Small, but deadly, his Essence sense whispered.
The jiāolóng chuffed. "Feed him and he will surprise you."
Chún's heart sank. "Honoured Majesty, I have no Metal Essence in my cave. What you sense came from an Essence ignition yesterday. Because of that, I know the Essence pattern—but I am still learning and can only hear a little." He paused, suddenly aware of his lack of skill and knowledge, then rushed to explain. "The ignition was a bush on rocks… I helped… it became a tiny willow of precious metals and stone fruit… it hid, because I thought Consumers might…"
The jiāolóng reared, voice alight. "You helped the Iron Bush become a Silver Tree. That is excellent news. It is a pure source of the most powerful metal Essence."
"I could bring the honoured snake to the Silver Tree, to guard and feed there."
The jiāolóng swayed its head. "No, too powerful for him. We shall guard it Ourselves."
The smaller snake, now around his neck, hissed, its tiny head swaying in front of Chún's eyes, the sheen of its scales reminiscent of moonlight on rippling water. The jiāolóng gave a horn-like note of agreement.
"Yes, the amount of Metal Essence is too strong for that to be all. There are no sources in your cave, man-child?"
"There is a mineral hot spring and veins of metal in the cave walls, but no concentrated source. The little willow was my first living source of Metal Essence."
The small snake hissed again. The jiāolóng nodded. "Tell Us the full story of your meeting with the Silver Tree."
He recounted the previous day. When he spoke of the fruit, the small snake constricted around his neck until his breath caught sharply, the cool dryness of its scales rasping against his skin. Panic flashed through him, the sound of his own pulse thudding in his ears. Stars pricked at the edge of his vision before the coils loosened, the creature hissing a soft, almost apologetic sound.
The jiāolóng exhaled briny breath in surprise. "You are fortunate, Cultivator. The Silver Tree must have considered your assistance a great boon. Listen to Our instructions and then return to your cave."
Its head lowered. Somewhere in the distance, Chún thought he heard the faint patter of rain beginning, as though the jiāolóng's words had summoned it. "If the small snake does not visit within a moon—we will find you. You do not want Us to do that."
The jiāolóng's tongue flicked to the snake, hissing. The little one coiled around Chún's neck, restless, but stilled at a rumble from the larger.
"The small snake is not to eat the fruit of the Silver Tree. Too much Essence at once. I have commanded him. He will not disobey." The little snake's head bobbed in assent.
"As for you, Cultivator, this is what you and your locus must do…"