As the Mist Tide descended, the Black Flood Dragon swam to the stone steps and planted all four claws on the ground, then went to the noticeboard at the Mountain Gate to erase his record of leaving the mountain.
He then twisted and swayed his way to the General Store and greeted Daoist Pang.
After a little idle conversation, he learned that the Daoists who had joined the hunt for Lion had long since returned. It could not be helped-he had taken the long way around and waited out an entire Mist Tide, so naturally he had fallen behind.
He had meant to gather a heap of medicinal herbs and leave them to ferment in his cave to aid his cultivation.
But when he returned to the cliff and looked, most of the herbs had yet to mature. Their medicinal potency was insufficient, and digging them up would have been a terrible waste.
He sighed. It seemed he would not be able to hibernate this year.
His diligent studies at the Village School had at least taught him quite a few characters. Considering himself somewhat educated now, he thought it over and decided to stand watch at the Library Pavilion and find a few simple, accessible books to read. Perhaps he could understand their contents now.
As usual, he lay on the roof while his primordial spirit crossed the threshold. Inside, towering shelves were packed with books. Scratching his head, he chose the one with the fewest words, figuring that fewer words meant an easier read.
He sat at the desk by the entrance, opened it, and read carefully.
He soon realized something was wrong. Fewer words did not mean simpler content. Every word in the slim volume was distilled to its essence, every sentence profound and mysterious. He could