The next day.
Song Yan took Xiao He out of the Dongyuan Sect's territory and flew toward the Yanran Mountain Range.
The mountain wind rustled.
Xiao He poked her head out of Song Yan's collar. She did not chatter as she usually did, only occasionally raising her head to look around.
On the western slopes of the Yanran Mountain Range lay a sunny valley sheltered from the wind, with a murmuring stream and flourishing flowers and grasses.
Song Yan lowered his sword light and landed in the valley.
Bai Qi was already waiting there. A young woman stood beside her.
A casual glance told Song Yan that this woman was also a yao, presumably one of Bai Qi's fellow Demon Cultivators from Shangtong Mountain. "Fellow Daoist Bai Qi."
Song Yan stopped and nodded slightly.
Bai Qi nodded gently in return, her gaze settling on Xiao He atop Song Yan's shoulder. Her voice was warm. "Xiao He, come with me."
Xiao He slowly slid down from his neck. The moment she touched the ground, spiritual light flickered, and she took human form.
She looked up at Song Yan.
"Go on," Song Yan said. "Be careful on the way."
Xiao He nodded hard, then seemed to remember something. She lowered her head and rummaged through her little backpack, her expression extraordinarily serious.
At last, she brought out something carefully wrapped in several supple Spirit Herb leaves.
With gentle movements, she peeled back the leaves, revealing what lay inside.
It was a little figure molded from mud.
The figure was only palm-sized. The clay had clearly been carefully kneaded many times to become so even and fine, giving it a peculiar, warm luster.
In craftsmanship alone, it was of course inferior to the clay figures of Nanhong City.
But its features and figure