Chapter 58: Thwarted Schemes
A dozen or so hideous men with pale green skin mottled by large blotches were fleeing in disarray through the dense forest. Their shrill, chattering curses echoed as they glanced back from time to time, firing strange crossbow-like weapons at Ji Hao with vicious intent.
Fist-sized metal projectiles tore through the air, each filled with deadly poison barbs, crackling lightning, or icy gales. Whenever one exploded, a dozen towering ancient trees would be blasted to splinters. Yet Ji Hao's fiery red wings fluttered lightly behind him, and with a subtle twist of his feet, his body left afterimages as he easily dodged the oncoming shots. Amid the thunderous explosions that ravaged the jungle, not a hair on Ji Hao’s head was harmed.
“Run, run faster!” the ugly men shrieked. At times, they dropped to all fours like hyenas, scampering forward in grotesque fashion that doubled their speed for a stretch. But Ji Hao remained a distant shadow at their heels, no matter how frantically they ran, spittle flying from their mouths—they could not shake off his relentless pursuit.
After nearly half an hour of desperate flight, the forest suddenly opened up ahead. Bright sunlight poured unimpeded from above, and the thunderous roar of water made one's innards tremble. Dense mist shot skyward, and as the sun struck the billowing spray, a dozen delicate rainbows shimmered and quivered in the mountain wind.
A mighty, raging river tore through the jungle, spanning more than twenty miles wide. Right in front of Ji Hao, the riverbed abruptly ended in a thousand-foot cliff, where the river plunged headlong, transforming into a majestic waterfall.
The wonders of nature were unfathomable. Stretching high above the roaring falls, an ancient banyan tree, twisted and immense, had grown for untold years. It sprawled across the gorge for more than twenty miles, its countless aerial roots anchoring firmly on the far bank. This tenacious old tree had, astonishingly, formed a rainbow bridge over the river and waterfall.
Even more incredible, whether by nature’s hand or human design, a dozen floating mountain peaks—some no more than a hundred feet across, others spanning several miles—were entwined by the banyan’s massive roots, which were as thick as a hundred men joining hands. These peaks, no longer drifting, now hovered directly above the waterfall, swaying gently in the wind miles above the ground.
Tens of thousands of banyan roots were stretched taut by the anchored peaks, and as the mountain wind swept across them, the tight roots rang out in clear, harp-like tones. The fleeing men leaped onto the great banyan and, chattering madly, dashed across to the far side of the river. The last of them, covering the retreat, turned and hurled six fist-sized, flaming red projectiles at Ji Hao.
The metal spheres exploded with a roar, turning a hundred yards of forest into an inferno. Countless massive trees fell with a crash, the wild shockwaves sweeping out to stir the waterfall into a spray that conjured dozens of round rainbows in midair.
Ji Hao strode fearlessly into the sea of fire, a shapeless force field swirling about him. Every flame was twisted and repelled before it could reach him, a dim corona of fire shuddering violently three feet from his body. He passed through the blaze with ease, came to the forest’s edge, and waved merrily at the ugly men.
“Farewell, I won’t see you off!”
After a brief pause, Ji Hao laughed loudly, “Tell your masters behind you—if you want to lure me out, send some young, pretty girls. Sending a bunch of fools as ugly as plucked apes—are you trying to disgust me?”
The ugly men, now a hundred yards along the banyan, stared in stupefaction. This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go! This wasn’t in the script at all—why had Ji Hao simply stopped at the forest’s edge instead of giving chase?
On the far bank, a group of burly warriors in heavy armor burst from the jungle, ropes and nets in hand, cursing furiously as they glared across the river. A few hot-tempered ones swung their heavy weapons, and hundreds of great trees were wrenched from the earth and smashed to pieces.
Above the old banyan, on a floating peak a hundred yards wide, a richly dressed Disha let out a cold laugh and turned away.
“Noble Witch Priestess, you never said the boy was this shrewd! He’s nothing like the children of your southern tribes—his cunning rivals the youths of our own Yu clan.”
“You’ll have to pay more, or find a way to lure him out of that damned valley yourself.”
Jiang Yao, standing nearby, ground her teeth and growled, “Disha, you have so many men under your command. I’ve paid you handsomely, you—”
Disha cut her off without hesitation, “Noble Witch Priestess, since we’re old friends, you should know my code—The Bloodfang Band’s warriors don’t belong to me, but to the esteemed lord I serve. I would never risk their lives!”
“Di Luo was beguiled by your honeyed words and took a risk—he lost an eye and an arm for his trouble. That’s what comes of adventure. As his elder brother by nearly five centuries, I’d never be so foolish.”
“To assault a fortified stronghold of the Fire Crow tribe, garrisoned by tens of thousands of elite, with an ancient monster holding command? Do you think me an idiot? I won’t sacrifice my men for your petty vendetta.”
Disha smiled flippantly and lowered his voice, “Or, why not handle it yourself? If you can kill the fire crow perched atop that boy’s head, I could guarantee his capture alive.”
Jiang Yao fell silent, then shook her head. To kill the Crow Lord? The Fire Crow tribe’s birds were unmatched in flight—even the Bi Fang beasts raised by the Bi Fang tribe couldn’t compare. Killing one would be far too difficult.
Di Luo, with his eye and arm now regrown, burst from the forest, shouting furiously at Ji Hao across the river. More of the Jia clan warriors appeared with nearly a thousand dark-skinned retainers in tow. They leapt onto the banyan and charged in pursuit.
But they soon halted, for the Crow Lord was already descending from the sky. Grasping Ji Hao’s shoulder, it swept him up into the air. The Jia warriors had yet to master flight; facing an enemy now aloft, they could only curse helplessly.
Ji Hao looked at Di Luo across the river and laughed, “Di Luo, is it? Did you really think such petty tricks could deal with me? You’re dreaming.”
With a few hearty laughs, the Crow Lord carried Ji Hao heavenward, streaking toward Cold Creek Valley in a trail of light.
Once astride the crow’s back, Ji Hao’s smile faded to a cold gloom.
Di Luo and his horde were still prowling near Cold Creek Valley. They—or their masters—had not given up.
This time, their ambush had failed, thwarted easily by Ji Hao. But the other clansmen of the Fire Crow or Qing Yi tribes were not nearly as sharp-minded as he. If one of them were to fall for such a ruse and be captured alive, it would spell grave trouble.