Three weeks had passed.60Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSTlZ37x7h4
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Liang Wei stood at the mouth of the cave, breathing the salt air. His wounds had healed completely – no scars, no bruises, no memory of pain. The arrow holes in his chest had closed as if they had never been. The cannonball dent in his ribs had smoothed over. Even the burns on his face had faded to faint pink lines.
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He was himself again.
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But more than healed, he had been renewed.
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The cave's strange energy had seeped into his bones, strengthening his qi, sharpening his senses. He felt younger – not just in spirit, but in flesh. When he caught his reflection in a still pool inside the cave that morning, he had almost not recognized himself. The face that stared back was not the weathered, gray‑haired teacher of sixty‑seven. It was a man in his mid‑thirties – smooth skin, clear eyes, no lines of age. Only his eyes held the weight of centuries.
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He touched his cheek, then smiled.
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So this is what cultivation can do, he thought.
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He walked to the water's edge and looked down at his reflection in the calm surface. A young man with dark hair and a straight back looked back. He almost laughed.
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They are alive, he thought. General Feng Jian. Li Hua. The crew. Their qi was faint but steady and calm, non‑aggressive. No one was fighting. No one was wounded.
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He smiled.
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Then he dove into the water.
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The sea welcomed him. He swam deeper than any mortal could, his lungs filled with air that lasted and lasted. He moved through schools of silver fish, through forests of coral, through canyons of dark rock. His hands shot out – once, twice, three times – and came back with sardines, their scales flashing in the underwater light.
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He surfaced near a flat rock, just outside the cave. He gutted and cleaned the fish with his fingernails, working quickly, precisely. Then he placed them on the rock in a neat row.
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From the wreckage of the junk – which had washed into a crevice near the cave – he had salvaged a few items. One of them was a small glass vial, translucent, empty. He positioned it on the rock at an angle, catching the afternoon sun. The light refracted through the glass, focusing into a hot beam that fell on the sardines.
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They would be sun‑dried within an hour.
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He sat cross‑legged and waited, chewing on a piece of dried fish he had prepared yesterday.
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Then he felt it.
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A presence.
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Not the gentle presence of a passing turtle or a curious dolphin. This was powerful – far more powerful than anything he had ever encountered. It radiated qi like a furnace radiates heat. It dwarfed his own cultivated energy.
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He stopped chewing.
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His hand froze, still holding a piece of sardine halfway to his mouth.
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The presence moved closer.
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What is it? he thought. A sea creature? A spirit?
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He could not fight it. Even fully healed, even strengthened by the cave, he knew he would lose. But he could not stand there frozen either. He had to be alive. He had to thank the white dragon that had saved him. He had to return to his people.
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I will strike first, he decided. Buy time. Run.
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He took a deep breath – not for air, but to warm himself. His qi stirred.
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A second breath. Blood rushed to every vessel in his body. His muscles tensed.
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A third breath. The air in his lungs became a weapon.
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He spun around.
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And he blew.
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The wind that left his mouth was not a breeze. It was a hurricane, compressed into a single exhalation. It roared across the rocks, tearing up seaweed, shattering pebbles, carving grooves into the stone.
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It was aimed at the presence.
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But the presence was a woman.
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She stood on a rock twenty feet away, her feet bare, her dress made of almost translucent silk that showed the milky pale skin beneath. Her hair was pure white, long, flowing in the wind that should have ripped it from her scalp. Her eyes were gold – not brown, not hazel, but gold, like twin suns. Her neck had a faint shimmer, as if covered in tiny scales.
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The wind struck her.
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Rocks behind her exploded. Waves crashed and scattered. A boulder the size of a cart split in two. The ground around her feet cracked like dry clay.
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She did not move.
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Not one inch. She stood in the center of the hurricane as if it were a gentle summer breeze.
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Her lips curved into a small smirk.
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"That is a strange way to thank your savior," she said.
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Liang Wei's eyes widened. He knew that voice. It had spoken in his mind, three weeks ago, in the depths of the sea.
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Ning.
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He dropped to his knees so fast the rock cracked beneath him. He bent forward, reaching for the ground to press his forehead against it – the deepest bow, the highest respect.
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Her hand caught his face.
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Not roughly. Gently. Her fingers were cool against his cheeks, stopping him before his head could touch the stone.
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"Please," she said. "No need for that."
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He looked up. She was smiling – not a smirk now, but a real smile, warm and amused.
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"Master Liang Wei," she said. "I am pleased to see you fully healed. Your attack was my fault. I should have announced my arrival. I also should have warned you about this…" She gestured at her body. "Strange form."
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He stood slowly. "Thank you once again, Ning. I am utterly delighted by your presence."
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She curtsied.
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It was not a casual dip. It was formal, elegant – the way a Chinese princess might curtsy to a guest of honor. Her hands pressed together at her chest. Her knees bent. Her head inclined.
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Liang Wei's blood ran cold.
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That curtsy, he thought. That is palace courtesy. She knows Chinese court etiquette.
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He dropped to his knees again – not slowly this time, but desperately. His forehead slammed into the rock with such force that the stone shattered beneath him. Cracks spread outward like a spiderweb.
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Ning flinched. Her hand reached toward him. "Are you okay?"
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He did not look up. His voice was tight.
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"You are royalty, aren't you?"
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She was silent for a moment. Then he heard her voice – still warm, but with a new edge of curiosity.
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"How can you tell?"
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"Let's just say I have a sixth sense." He kept his forehead on the broken rock. "Are you a princess? A queen? A dragon lord's daughter?"
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She walked closer. Her bare feet made no sound on the stone. She knelt beside him, her translucent dress pooling on the ground.
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"Get up, Master Liang Wei. Please. I do not enjoy watching a man of your stature grovel."
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"I am groveling because you deserve it," he said. "You saved my life. And you are royalty. That is two reasons."
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She laughed – a soft, musical sound. "Then I will give you a third reason to get up. I need to discuss something with you. Something important. It is difficult to negotiate with a man whose face is embedded in rock."
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He raised his head slowly. His forehead was scraped, bleeding slightly. He ignored it.
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"What do you wish to discuss?"
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Ning stood. She offered him her hand. He hesitated, then took it. Her grip was firm, cool.
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"I saved you for a reason," she said. "Not out of kindness. Not out of boredom. I need something from you. And you, I suspect, need something from me."
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"I need to return to my people."
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"They are safe. I have watched over them from a distance. The tall men you met – they are called the Watchers. They guard these shores. They will not harm your people."
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Liang Wei exhaled. "Thank you."
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"Thank me by hearing my offer." She sat on a flat rock, crossing her legs. The sun caught her golden eyes, making them glow. "Sit, Master. We have much to discuss."
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