Su Yan and Veyon spent two days translating the rest of Tuo's Immortal Scripture. Every line they decoded made the text more dangerous.
"If we hand this over," Veyon said, "he might kill us anyway."
Su Yan shook his head. "Zhou Qiyun knows it's incomplete. He forced his way through it before and turned into a woman. He's too proud to let any technique control his fate. He'll practice it—and then he'll need us to fix what breaks."
Veyon wrote three characters on the paper: a woman's name.
Guo Xiaodie peeked over their shoulders and stifled a laugh. Elder Xiao glanced at it, chuckled, then paled when he realized whose name it mocked.
They submitted the translation. Half a day passed. No executioner arrived.
Su Yan smiled. "We're safe."
They returned to the True Void Cave Heaven to cultivate. Yuan Qi carried them on his serpent head across landscapes where ancient beasts the size of mountains grazed without care. On one such beast's skull stood a ruined pavilion. They swept it clean and sat down to tea.
Guo Xiaodie poured. "This is palace tribute tea. Might even compare to Mengpo's brew."
Su Yan told them about the sorrow-faced elder's story—the ascension light that wasn't ascension at all, but the shredded remains of some ancient cultivator who'd failed their tribulation. Others had followed, century after century, all dying in pursuit of a lie.
Veyon set down her cup. "If Avia's story is true—if the world was sealed three thousand years ago—could that be why the qi cultivators vanished?"
The great bell chimed. "My master disappeared after that seal. If he was sealed away with the world itself, he'll return."
Su Yan stood, cup in hand. "If ancient cultivators are coming back with the New Territory, what happens to the current order? The great clans? The throne?"
"Worse," Veyon said. "Who sealed them? And who unsealed them?"
Guo Xiaodie slammed her cup down. "There's a conspiracy!"
She couldn't name it. But she was right.
Yuan Qi sipped primly. "I suspect it's a human plot against us ancient yao. They sealed the cultivators and erased our history, turning us into weaklings stuck at the Qi-Gathering stage. But Su Yan broke through. He'll lead our yao revolution against human tyranny—"
They stared at him.
He coughed and studied his tea leaves.
The suns dipped toward evening. As they prepared to leave, Su Yan remembered the old man with the walking staff who'd warned them about nighttime ghosts.
"A real saint," someone said.
"The dead never harmed us," Yuan Qi sniffed. "It's the living who are cruel."
The great bell hummed. "You forgot the ghost child who sucked your yang-fire dry."
At the Demon Suppression Hall, that same kindly old man sat on the altar, staff laid aside, watching the vat. He grinned.
"Little fools. You'll come back. And this time, I eat alone."