Chapter 81: Manman

Two days passed.

The vast palace was now completely transformed, its surfaces gleaming after decades of accumulated dust had been swept away. Over ten thousand pieces of fire jade were embedded throughout the halls and chambers, their gentle warmth dispelling the damp chill of the palace, while young servants hurried to and fro, lending an unexpected vibrancy to this deep, ancient residence.

Beneath the palace lay a lake called Azure Jade, its waters adorned with rare flowers known as Jade Strings. This Azure Jade Palace had been specially constructed for the ‘Master’ of the Fire Crow Tribe to enjoy the spectacle of these blossoms.

Within the palace, a grand terrace had been opened up, jutting precariously over the lake. The terrace, a hundred yards long and cast entirely of bronze, was engraved with countless fantastical beasts—fire dragons, fire phoenixes, fire horses, fire turtles—wrought with uncanny skill. Standing at its edge, the mountain wind swept in, rain cascading in sheets, drumming on the translucent petals of the Jade Strings. Sparkling droplets danced through the air, and the jade-like petals, struck by the rain, produced a clear, melodious chime. The multitude of subtle, tinkling sounds melded together, forming an enchanting celestial music that captivated the soul.

Such wondrous flowers truly deserved the name ‘Jade Strings’. The blossoms, like strings, played by the elements. To build a palace solely for the appreciation of this rare lake of blooms, Ji Hao felt, perhaps, it was not unreasonable.

Ying Yan was shouting commands, directing several young men of the Fire Crow Tribe as they carefully moved a grand circular cauldron, encircled by nine dragons, to the center of the terrace. He inspected the orientation of each dragon head repeatedly, then meticulously wiped a speck of dust from one of the dragon’s teeth with his sleeve, finally exhaling in relief.

He personally lifted the lid of the cauldron and beckoned to several maidens holding golden trays. Clad in crimson gowns, their hair loose, the maidens hurried forward with trays three feet across. Ying Yan gently placed into the cauldron each blood-red wooden stick, neatly shaped and three inches square, each a foot long.

One thousand sticks were stacked inside, and with a flick of his finger, a blue-white flame drifted from his hand and landed lightly atop the wood. Instantly, a gauzy blue-white glow enveloped the cauldron, and a rich, profound fragrance wafted forth.

The colorless smoke carried an intense, potent heat. Ji Hao, standing at the terrace edge admiring the floral sea, cautiously inhaled. Immediately, warmth surged into his abdomen, his blood grew denser, even his strength seemed to increase.

“Uncle Yan, what kind of treasure is this?” Ji Hao asked in astonishment.

Ying Yan, with a hint of pride, raised his brows and chuckled, “It’s not really a treasure, but you folks rarely see it. This is authentic Flame Dragon Blood Sandalwood—requires irrigation with the blood of ten-thousand-year-old flame dragons to sprout, can only grow near million-year volcanoes, and must mature for ten thousand years before it can be harvested for incense. It specifically nourishes the blood and strengthens the body. Normally, the young master only breathes this aroma.”

Ji Hao grimaced. A million-year volcano? He understood what that meant. In the Fire Crow Tribe’s territory, there was such a perilous place—a volcano with a diameter of over a thousand miles, its interior terrifyingly hot. Even the tribe’s great shamans risked being reduced to ashes if they approached too closely.

Long ago, when the Fire Crow Tribe was at its peak, shaman kings and emperors often ventured into the volcano to harvest rare treasures. But now, after thousands of years without a new shaman king, the tribe could only gaze at the volcano longingly.

For Flame Dragon Blood Sandalwood to only grow near such a volcano, its rarity was self-evident.

Ying Yan carefully sealed the cauldron and turned to Ji Hao, speaking earnestly, “Ji Hao, in these two days, I’ve seen you’re a good child. So let me warn you: never offend the young master. If misfortune befalls you, that’s one thing, but if the elders pursue it, your whole clan could suffer.”

“Remember, the young master is about your age, so if you’re cautious, there shouldn’t be too much—”

Ying Yan’s words were cut short as the ground shook suddenly. At the end of the corridor leading from the palace to the terrace, a three-foot-thick bronze door, carved with hundreds of beast heads, collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Two warriors, both at the threshold of great shamanhood, crouched on the floor clutching their heads like quails in a storm, trembling, not daring to utter a sound.

Ji Hao stared in shock. Ying Yan cried out, “Oh, young master, you’ve arrived today? Weren’t we told it was still a day’s journey away?”

Amid heavy footsteps, a petite girl strode in, armored in tight crimson gear. Her skin was snow-white, her smile bright, and her long hair was tied into a ponytail at the back of her head, fastened with three golden rings. When she grinned, dimples appeared on her cheeks. She marched in with a massive weapon slung over her shoulder.

Her rosy lips twisted, and she kicked one of the crouching warriors, sending him rolling away like a ball. “Old Yan, you’re here? What kind of useless bunch did you bring? These two dawdle at opening the door, so I had to knock it down myself.”

She shook her head and scolded, “Old Yan, why so many doors in our palace? Every step, open and close, close and open—it’s suffocating. Except for the main gate—no, including that one—tear them all down! I want clear, open paths!”

Ying Yan’s mouth twitched violently. “Young master, this palace—”

The girl rolled her eyes, declaring, “It’s brother’s palace, right? What’s his is mine! So now it’s mine. Old Yan, get people to tear down all the doors immediately!”

With a careless gesture, she tossed her giant weapon—an eighteen-foot-long spiked club, four times her height, thick as an ordinary man’s thigh—toward Ji Hao. “Pretty boy, carry this for Manman.”

The club whistled through the air, threatening to smash into Ji Hao. Ying Yan’s eye twitched furiously as he screamed, “Young master, careful, or you’ll kill another one!”

Ji Hao shuddered—why did Ying Yan say ‘another’?

The club hurtled toward him. Ji Hao instinctively reached out and caught it. An overwhelming force surged through his body, his bones aching with pain, joints clashing with a deep metallic sound. He clung tightly to the club, staggering backward step after step.

Each step landed heavily, ringing the bronze floor like a great bell. After only three steps, the boots made from the toughest crocodile skin, taken from a blood crocodile, were crushed to pieces beneath his feet.

***

Honestly, if one’s wife had the build of Manman, it would have its advantages!

At least the household’s gas cylinders and bottled water would always have someone to carry them!

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Guaranteed: you won’t get your bones broken by your wife!