Hu Xiaotian reckoned he was still nearly three li from the prison. He looked up. In this short span of time, the moon, previously clear and luminous, had disappeared into the clouds. Without the moon, or even a single visible star, all of Python Jiao Island lay shrouded in thick darkness. The wind had grown noticeably stronger. Walking with it at his back felt as though a pair of invisible hands were pushing him hard.
Hu Xiaotian took out his homemade compass to check his bearings. He had to slip into the prison as quickly as possible and conceal himself in the shadows. Remembering the Black-beaked Sparrow, he took the birdcage from his waist. Fortunately, the bird was unharmed. Afraid that Xia Changming would assume something had happened to him and return to gather men for a blind rescue attempt, Hu Xiaotian hastily wrote a message with a charcoal pencil saying he was safe, fastened it to the sparrow's leg, and released it.
Hu Xiaotian's concern was not unfounded. After becoming separated from him on Python Jiao Island, Xia Changming had struggled to control his Snow Eagle and make the bird return to where they had been. But the eagle was terrified. The strange bird that had come hunting them was called a Flying Owl, a natural enemy of Snow Eagles. Xia Changming had thought such creatures were long extinct, never imagining he would encounter one above Python Jiao Island. He sighed inwardly at their ill-fated journey. Amid his self-reproach and lamentation, he could not help worrying deeply about Hu Xiaotian's safety.
Only after considerable effort did he regain control of the Snow Eagle and guide the bird back toward Python Jiao Island. Yet when they were still five li away, the eagle refused to go any farther. Xia Changming