The stars still shimmered against the veil of dawn when Zhu Xian and Die Ba reached the edge of the desert. The golden, hostile sands ended abruptly at a wall of green shadows: the Northern Forest.
It was a threshold between two worlds. Where the sun had scorched, now the air clung heavy with humidity. Where the dunes had sung to the wind, now the trees whispered ancient names in forgotten tongues.
Zhu Xian stopped just before crossing the invisible line that separated the sand from the moss.
Die Ba, breathless, gazed at the forest with tear-bright eyes.
—We made it… —she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief, as if afraid it was only a mirage. —This is the border of the Sacred Forest. No one from my tribe will follow us here.
Zhu Xian didn’t answer. His golden eyes scanned the dense landscape, breathing in the new air that radiated from the heart of the jungle. There was something unsettling in that energy. A subtle tremor that spoke to his bones, to the deepest instincts.
—This place… is alive, —he murmured.
They stepped in.
The change was immediate. The temperature dropped by several degrees, and the scorching heat of the Tagore Desert faded like a bad memory. The ground was no longer dust but thick, damp moss, roots crunching softly under their feet.
Every tree was an ancient tower, every leaf a whisper. Invisible birds sang strange notes. Branches intertwined overhead, weaving a living canopy that allowed only threads of dawn’s light to filter through.
Zhu Xian kept one hand on his sword, alert. Die Ba, however, seemed different. Her emerald eyes glimmered with reverence, fear, and nostalgia all at once.
—When I was a child, they told me about this forest, —she murmured. —They said no Dou Shi can enter here without facing their true self.
—And if someone refuses to look?
—Then the forest devours them, —she replied, her voice sharp with an icy certainty.
They walked for hours. No creature attacked. No human sound disturbed the silence. Only the rhythm of their own hearts reminded them they were still awake.
Then, as they crossed a slope tangled with roots, they found it.
A fissure between trees, like the mouth of an ancient beast, staring at them from the shadows. From that mouth emerged a bent figure.
An old woman.
She wore robes woven from living bark. Her hair was a tangle of lichens and dry branches. Her skin, wrinkled like wood shaped by centuries. And her eyes —blind— glowed with an inner light.
Die Ba immediately dropped to her knees, bowing her head.
—Forest Guardian…
Zhu Xian didn’t move, but his attention was sharp and unwavering. She didn’t feel like a mere retired Dou Zong. There was something else. Something ancient.
The elder spoke without opening her mouth, as if the forest itself gave her voice:
—You have arrived… son of the abyss and the firmament.
Zhu Xian frowned.
—Who are you?
—The one who remembers. The one who keeps the secrets no one wants. And you… you did not come alone.
Her blind gaze turned to Die Ba.
—Princess, hidden among scales and shadows. Have you accepted yet that your crown will not be born in a palace… but in the blood of exile?
Die Ba trembled slightly, her fists tightening, but she didn’t answer.
The old woman stepped forward, the staff of twisted roots in her hand striking the earth with a hollow thud.
—Zhu Xian… do you want to know who you are? Why the fire doesn’t burn you? Why the earth answers your call?
He held her gaze.
—No. —His voice was steady. —I only want to protect those I love. Knowing more won’t make me stronger… will it?
The elder lifted her staff and, without warning, touched it to his chest.
A spark flared. Symbols older than time ignited beneath his feet. The ground shuddered. The trees tilted ever so slightly, as if bowing before something sacred.
Zhu Xian fell to his knees. His mind was pulled as if into an unseen river.
And in that river… he saw.
A battle in flames. Faceless bodies. Himself, standing amidst ruins, his sword drenched in blood. At his side, Die Ba. And before him… a woman. Majestic. Beautiful. Serpent eyes and the voice of a queen.
—Cai Lin… —he whispered, the name echoing with pain and a strange familiarity.
The vision vanished like breath on glass.
Zhu Xian gasped, trembling.
Die Ba rushed to him, gripping his shoulders in worry.
—What did you see?
He raised his hand.
An ancient rune, the character for “King,” burned faintly in his palm, glowing like fire beneath the skin.
—The forest… showed me what I could lose. What I could become… if I don’t grow stronger.
The elder nodded, her voice now softer.
—Destiny is not a chain, Zhu Xian. It is a crucible. What you are… is not yet decided.
She turned her glowing gaze toward Die Ba.
—And you… princess without a throne. Stop running. There is blood in your past, but also roots. The forest has spoken: your people are not finished with you.
The sun was sinking, its golden light streaming in scattered rays through the leaves.
Zhu Xian stood again. The rune still shimmered faintly on his skin.
Die Ba watched him, knowing something within him had shifted forever.
They didn’t yet know what trials awaited them. Or how much pain the path ahead would demand.
But in that moment, at the edge of the Sacred Forest, for the first time since their escape… both felt that something new had begun.