Li Chunfeng's eyes flew open, and he looked around.
An ancient, empty temple met his gaze.
"Where am I?"
Confusion washed over him. The scenes from that great dream slowly blurred, while his memories from before he lost consciousness returned, piece by piece, until he recalled everything that had just happened.
"This is the mountain temple! All of that was nothing but a dream! I'm no master of divination. It was only a dream over a pot of millet! Hm? Where does that saying come from? Why have I never heard it before, yet know exactly what it means?"
He swept his gaze around.
Bodies lay unconscious everywhere: Li Dejiang, for all his martial skill; the hale and hearty Li Dingji; the two from the Longevity Army; that mysterious woman surnamed Yang; even Liehou Yang, who had arrived without warning. None of them made a sound.
"I'm the first to wake! But..."
His eyes darted to the space around the cold firepit.
"Where's that Daoist priest? Ah!"
A sharp pain struck between Li Chunfeng's brows. He raised a hand to his forehead.
The spot burned beneath his fingers.
Something stirred in his mind. He went to a puddle and peered into it by the firelight. Shadows obscured most of his reflection, but he could still make out his face.
To his astonishment, a strange pattern had appeared in the middle of his forehead, black tinged with purple, like an eye.
Outside the temple, above the clouds.
Chen Cuo watched the scene below, stars seeming to turn in his eyes.
He had sown seeds in each of them. Now he had only to wait for those seeds to grow.
"To glimpse the wonders of the Great Dao, one must first bring the Three Talents to completion."
As the thought arose, threads