Just as Tu Hu raced against time to prepare a rescue in the Monster World.
The Small World, Leap City.
Under an ink-black night sky, Xing Tong stood alone atop the highest observatory in New Star Valley.
Thanks to life-tempering methods refined over generations, time had been unusually kind to her. She still stood tall, her features youthful and beautiful. Only a few faint lines at the corners of her eyes, visible when she gazed into the distance, hinted at the long years she had lived.
The night wind stirred her long hair, now gray-white. Xing Tong's gaze was fixed on the towering statue in the city center.
It depicted a carefree-looking man holding a wine jug.
He was the ancestor who, according to the Rongling Race's historical records, had long since passed away, but had once single-handedly guided them to glory.
The statue's pedestal was draped with wish ribbons and offerings of flowers.
Though the ancestor was gone, he remained the immortal spiritual symbol of Rongling civilization, inspiring generation after generation.
Xing Tong's fingertips brushed the pendant on her chest, made from a polished fragment of a broken spear.
It was the coming-of-age gift her ancestor had given her. Its history stretched back to the time of the first A Lan, the "ancestor"—a battle spear broken in the fight against the Stone Armor Clan—and it carried the weight of a long and deeply felt history.
"Ancestor, I miss you so much."
Memories surged through her. Xing Tong raised her head and looked toward the firmament, shrouded in countless streaks of light, seemingly within reach yet impossibly far away.
That was her next goal.
Their ultimate battle against the world's will had brought victory at the most terrible cost: they had lost forever the ancestor who had guided their civilization's