Frost Chi and Crimson Luan

Shen Hui sensed it too.

The source of that alternating cold and heat had not been the gu insects in the pool. It came from deeper beneath their feet.

The two searched the cave for a while and, sure enough, found a downward staircase behind an inconspicuous stone wall.

They followed the winding steps down for a little over a hundred stairs, until the space before them suddenly opened up.

Looking ahead, they saw a strange serpent coiled in the center of the cavern.

Its entire body was crystalline as ice, its scales refracting rainbow halos in the dim light.

It was strange because it had a dragon's head and a serpent's body, with no claws beneath its belly—only two pairs of transparent fins.

It lay coiled in a circle, head and tail nearly touching, its barrel-thick body sealing off a patch of open ground at its center.

And in the middle of that space stood a cage made of ice spires.

Inside, a little bird fluttered back and forth.

Its feathers were red as fire. Each beat of its wings scattered sparks that struck the ice pillars with a sizzling hiss.

At a glance, Shen Hui's heart stirred.

These two were remarkably similar to the Water Spirit he had subdued before.

Neither was made of flesh and blood. They were spirits nurtured over long years by the Qi of Earth Sha, possessed of form but no mind, and lingered here by instinct alone.

The crystalline serpent had coiled itself in the cavern to suppress the Fire Sparrow; trapped in its icy cage, the bird ceaselessly fought the serpent with its own blazing heat.

One cold, one hot; one still, one restless.

Who knew how many years the two had remained locked in this stalemate beneath this unknown abyss?

Shen