By the next morning, they left Baiyun behind.
Mist clung to the rooftops, and the air bit sharp with early frost. Mei Lian rode quietly behind Zhen Yu and Liang Hu. Their horses carried enough supplies for four or five days.
Liang Hu noticed how Zhen Yu's gaze kept drifting back to her. Even when he tried to look straight ahead, his eyes would find her again.
"She won't vanish," Liang Hu teased, a grin beneath his scar. "You can look away and talk. I'm still here, you know."
"I'm not looking at her," Zhen Yu said, a little too quickly.
Liang Hu chuckled. "I've heard tales of witches who bewitch men. But I never thought to see the Duke of Jing fall under such a spell. You—who ignored every beauty in the palace."
"Stop it," Zhen Yu muttered, his tone firm but his ears red. "It's not like that. I'm just… curious. How someone can bear so much pain and still protect the people who fear her."
Liang Hu only smiled. "Curiosity turns to something else if you keep staring that long."
Zhen Yu didn't answer. His silence was all the confession Liang Hu needed.
The road wound north into the mountains. Snow thinned and the land turned red—dry earth and jagged ridges that tore the horizon like old scars.
By dusk, heat shimmered where snow should have been.
They reached the foot of a blackened hill. Charred trees jutted from the ground like broken spears, and the air carried a metallic tang—scorched stone and dried blood.
Zhen Yu dismounted first.
"This is the place," he said quietly.
Mei Lian raised her head, crimson eyes glowing faintly. Her fingers moved in the dim light:
The next monster. It's close.
Liang Hu shifted uneasily. "Feels like standing inside a furnace."
Ahead, a fissure yawned open in the hill—a black wound in the earth. From within came a deep, pulsing heat, like the slow breathing of something alive.
Zhen Yu nodded. "We go in."
Mei Lian stopped him with another quick motion of her hand.
Before we enter—listen.
Her signs were precise, her eyes steady despite the rising heat.
This one is called the Flame Tiger (Yán Hǔ).
It feeds on anger. The more you feel, the stronger it becomes. Keep calm. Stay clear.
Liang Hu grunted. "So no shouting then."
"Or we'll all burn," Zhen Yu said.
The cave swallowed them whole.
Red light pulsed along the walls, veins of molten rock glowing through stone. The deeper they went, the heavier the air grew—thick with ash and heat, until every breath scraped like sandpaper.
Then came the sound.
A slow, crackling growl that built into a roar.
Flame burst from the darkness.
The monster rose with it—a shape of fire and molten rock, the outline of a tiger twisted into something almost human. Its mane blazed like a living torch, and its molten eyes fixed on them with a hatred that burned without smoke.
Mei Lian raised her hand again, signing fast even as the heat warped the air.
Flame Tiger. It feeds on anger.
The creature roared, and the fire swept through the cavern like a storm.