The road to Redwood Cliff was unusually busy. Thousands of people traveled across the land to pay their respects, effectively cluttering the only road to the Red Dragon zhuang. Men and women walked with heads bowed, afraid to speak, each careful not to display anything but sorrow. Their carriages and mounts, with men in the forefront and servants in the rear, resembled an endless wave of refugees. Li Kung and Sochai maintained a low profile in their Taoist disguises—even Pun was silent.

  The burning rays of the afternoon sun illuminated the side of Redwood Cliff. The frontal surface of the cliff was vertical, barren, with neither a single branch nor a protruding rock that could be used as foothold. The peak of Redwood Cliff reached far into the clouds, the only path to the top guarded by an army of warriors, impossible to penetrate.

  Near the foot of the cliff, Li Kung noticed armed guards, each dressed in dark red, watching every person. He stood on tiptoes, peered over the shoulders of men in front, and breathed a sigh of relief. They were not the same guards from two days ago.

  . Li Kung lowered his head in deep lament and steadily followed when they reached the main entrance.

  “Taoist priests?” one guard asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Taoist priests from where?”

  Li Kung stalled. Pun stepped forward, her lips pouting. “We’re from the Realm of Immortal Senses on Mount Hua.”

  “Mount Hua?’

  “I can’t believe it!” Pun exclaimed. “A guard of the famous Red Dragons doesn’t know the Taoists on Mount Hua?”

  “Of course I do! But Mount Hua is so far from here. How did you ...?”

  “Our master summoned the White Phoenix of the Western Paradise to carry us here. He was a childhood friend of the Old Grandmother, and he conjured up such magic that it left him seriously ill, all so we could arrive here on time!”

  The guard gulped and without another word waved them on. Li Kung thought he heard someone behind him announce, “Master Liang of the White Tiger school.” He glanced back to assure that Pun and Sochai were closely behind.

  “Welcome to Redwood Cliff, Master Liang,” A guard said. No one paid attention to them anymore.

  Beyond the main entrance was an endless spiral of steps, chiseled into the stone that wrapped the front and side of the cliff. The stairs were so steep that those ascending had to lift their knees above their waists in order to reach the next foothold. There were no railings or barriers along the outer edge, and the vertical drop from the side seemed to reach down forever.

  “Are you tired?” Pun asked, watching the sweat flow from Li Kung’s brow.

  “I can make it.”

  Sochai showed no signs of fatigue. He took large, bold steps, pausing only to wait for Li Kung to rest. In front of them, the marching caravan of warriors maintained a constant speed.

  Redwood Cliff was like a peninsula, not surrounded by water but by a sea of clouds covering the world below. The summit was cold—colder than the darkest of winter nights at the base.

  The sun was descending when the three reached the top of the cliff. Stretched in front of them was a stone-paved road that led to numerous building clusters. These buildings were not tall, though large and solid, each emitting its own sense of grandeur. The mansions built by the side of the cliff were so enormous they seemed capable of housing hundreds. Armed guards were everywhere. Many stood beside the main road, personally greeting each guest before leading them to their lodgings for the night.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Li Kung bowed to the warrior that approached them.

  The warrior returned the bow. “Taoist priests? This way, please.”

  He walked toward one of the mansions. Li Kung stole a glance at Pun, then at Sochai. Both of them seemed to be thinking the same thing. What an incredible display of wealth and power!

  ???

  The burial ceremony was to take place the following morning. After a brief rest, the guests were called to pay their final respects to the Old Grandmother. The sun had lowered itself below the horizon, leaving behind a glow of golden twilight on the surface of Redwood Cliff. Li Kung, Pun, and Sochai followed the crowd to the main hall, behind a long line of mourners already outside the doors.

  The main hall, located on a hill, was immense. Its tremendous doors were like gaping mouths that faced the clouds beneath. From the road outside, behind a long line of people, Sochai could vaguely see a coffin at the far end of the hall.

  Each guest was ushered into the room, followed by a gong signal to bow to the closed coffin. Senior warriors of both Dragon Houses stood inside the hall, all of them in mourning attire. They respectfully bowed back.

  A bearded man stood in line behind Li Kung.

  “Taoist priests?” he asked, his eyes on Sochai.

  “Yes,” Li Kung responded.

  “You must’ve come from far away.”

  “From a distant province.”

  The man broke into laughter. “Just a word of advice for the young and inexperienced. Don’t look directly at the Red Dragon princess, or you’ll be in deep trouble.”

  “Why?”

  A thin man, standing behind the bearded one, stepped forward to join the conversation. “You’re sure you don’t know? Don’t lie. You must’ve heard. Wei Bin wants no one staring at his daughter. Otherwise ...” He laughed. “Otherwise, it’ll be dawn before we pay our respects to the Old Grandmother!”

  “Why would I be staring at Wei Bin’s daughter?” Li Kung asked.

  Sochai leaned closer to listen.

  “Stop pretending,” the bearded man said. “Half the people here are hoping for a glimpse of her.”

  “Master Bin’s daughter Fei Fei,” the skinny one pitched in. “They say she’s so beautiful, he had to pluck out the eyes of his servants—or they would be staring at her day and night and not do anything.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re just a boy,” the bearded man said with a sneer. “You wouldn’t understand!”

  They laughed. Li Kung grumbled and resumed his position in line.

  The bearded man was still snickering when his smaller companion elbowed him in the rib and flashed a glance to the side. The bearded man froze eased into a solemn expression of lament with his eyes lowered and hands folded.

  Sochai noticed that every person around him had fallen silent, heads lowered, looking away as if afraid.

  A tall warrior dressed in short robes, carrying two swords, one on each side of his belt, walked past them. There was absolute quiet until he was gone.

  “The Butcher,” someone whispered in the background.

  Li Kung turned to the bearded man. “Who was that?”

  “The Butcher,” the bearded man said, no longer coarse and taunting. “He’s Wei Bin’s famous assassin, even more dangerous than the Flute Demon.”

  “Someone tall and skinny called the Butcher?”

  “He doesn’t butcher animals.”

  Night fell. Each followed the procession with head down, lost in deep thought. Much later, Sochai, Li Kung, and Pun finally found themselves in the main hall.

  The coffin was dark chestnut, buried in layers of white flowers. Standing closest to the coffin were two middle-aged men, both of them striking in appearance, each commanding an imposing presence.

  Sochai’s head remained bowed, eager to finish the formalities without bringing attention to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a woman beside the coffin. His eyes traveled involuntarily to her, her long black hair, petite nose, pouting lips. He noticed her lean figure wrapped under the garments of mourning, her large, almond eyes staring blankly into the distance, as if thinking of a loved one, lost in a world that she could not share.

  Sochai’s heart pounded out of control. Her eyes reminded him of the soothing wind on the Mongolian plains, of the endless grasslands and the morning dew while galloping toward the first rays of dawn. In her eyes, he saw a lonely soul standing against freezing rain, a woman troubled but strong, lost but unyielding. He could almost touch her cheeks, her full lips, her breath warming the frozen air. Never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful.

  Her eyes turned to him, and his heart stopped. “Beauty that could destroy entire kingdoms ...” he heard his grandfather say. In a moment, she looked away.

  The guests were given the signal to bow. Both Houses returned the bow in unison, and the guests were ushered out of the hall. Sochai wanted to look back—just to catch another glimpse of her would have made his life worthwhile. But there were too many people, too many guards. They were hurried out the side door.

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