Year 147, Month 9
The nights were growing colder and longer, Shangsong thought to himself as he surveyed the browned leaves of the trees in the forest. Some had already begun to shed their leaves, signaling the end of autumn. He patted his pocket, reassured by the weight of a pouch filled with 100 gold coins.
The plan was simple enough: Huang Wadong, a seasoned mercenary captain with connections, was stationed nearby. With many mercenaries preparing to march back east to Yunxia, now was the time to hire warriors for an extended stay in Fuhua Valley. His mission, given to him by the Void Dragon, awaited completion, and this would unlock Shangsong's innate magical potential.
But why, of all people, am I thinking of Yifei right now? Shangsong thought with an awkward smile, shaking his head. He was about to awaken an ancient goddess, and as a good and honorable man, he certainly couldn’t handle such a delicate task alone, could he?
Then again, his less honorable thoughts crept in. Maybe that’s exactly what the Void Dragon had in mind--hitching him to a 3,633-year-old goddess that was also His Daughter, for some reasons. Goddesses didn’t have venereal diseases, right? And with those revealing garments she wore…
He mentally slapped himself, quickly silencing those thoughts. No, he had made a vow years ago, wagering with Brother Huang that he would never get involved with someone so... mature. Ridiculous as it was, he couldn’t go back on that now.
"Ah! Sorcerer Chen! Welcome, O Great Sorcerer!" shouted a mercenary who recognized him from the previous day.
Some in the crowd, particularly those with Buddhist inclinations, were still scandalized by his performance the day before--shoving his finger up the nose of Bodhisattva Guanyin, of all things. But many others, Daoists especially, were more amused, seeing him as a powerful sorcerer who had managed not only to resist the Bodhisattva’s commanding voice but also to break her mental influence.
By Yanwang’s Hall, Shangsong thought. Master Jirgiimind’s teachings are actually making sense.
"Sorcerer Chen, would you like to join us for a drink? First pot’s on the house!" called the tavern keeper. As much as Shangsong wanted to get straight to the Huang family’s lodgings, perhaps a moment to relax wouldn’t hurt.
"Yes, but no wine tonight," Shangsong replied, pulling out some silver coins. "Just a pot of warm wulong tea with ginger and honey. I’m still tired and would prefer not to get inebriated."
"Understandable, Sorcerer Chen," said the tavern keeper with a polite clasp of his fists. "Anything else?"
"Pork dumplings and a plate of stir-fried vegetables, if you please."
The tavern keeper bowed and hurried to fill the order. Just then, someone else approached.
"I’ll take the same food, but with a jar of milk," said a voice from behind.
Turning, Shangsong saw the copper-haired Arath Dayanilu, heir of the Ungu-Anyu, a nomadic druid, sitting down beside him. The young prince’s calm face betrayed a hint of something troubling.
At the same time, Officer Yang's warning about how the Druids tried to interrogate him comes to his mind, and Shangsong immediately calmed himself to be unreadable. This could be dangerous.
"Oh, Prince Arath," Shangsong greeted him awkwardly, sliding over to make room. "What can I do for you?"
"Let’s not dance around, Sorcerer Chen," Arath said, his tone a mix of respect and amusement. "Bodhisattva Guanyin told us you possess no magical power, and I can’t sense any either. Yet you resisted her voice, blocked her attempt to empathize, and even broke her glamor."
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