The escape light faded, revealing Ancestor Mu Yan.
His white hair hung loose, half his robe lay open, and one of his shoes had vanished on some mountain peak.
He looked less like a Grand Elder than a country old man running late for market.
The old man's eyes gleamed green, and his nostrils twitched sharply twice.
A rich fragrance of vegetation mingled with a strange, pungent odor, drilling straight into the crown of his head.
Before Ancestor Mu Yan could savor it, his gaze swept the courtyard. He stumbled and froze on the spot.
The old Gourd Vine, once thin, shriveled, and yellow, seemingly ready to breathe his last at any moment, was now tender green all over, brimming with fresh vitality.
New leaves unfurled, and a pale yellow bud the size of a thumb was blooming at the tip of a tendril.
Green shoots crowded the cracks between the surrounding desert stones. Even the foxtail grass on the courtyard wall had grown much thicker.
Ancestor Mu Yan opened his mouth, but all his fury and desperate hunger lodged in his throat, unable to rise or fall.
"A-Ancestor?!"
A flurry of sounds came from behind as figures cut through the air.
The Pavilion Master landed first, dressed in white, his face livid.
The eight guardians of the Forbidden Land followed close behind, filling the courtyard in a dense crowd.
Everyone's first reaction was to fix their eyes on Shi Hou.
The Pavilion Master's lips moved as he prepared to speak.
Then their gazes swept over the pile of rubble, and the elders fell silent as one.
The lone peak's guardian held out a hand that trembled in midair.
He shuffled into the courtyard, shaking, stepped around the Black Pot, and reached toward a newly grown vine leaf.
Fresh, abundant