The river widened as they neared the heart of the domain. It swelled until the towering cliffs on either side were lost in the haze of distance, and a ring of obsidian reefs jutted from the center. Two narrow streams split off to either side, continuing onward, and converged again downstream, returning to the same molten current it had been at the start.

  In the middle of that circle of jagged rock, the lava fell away. It did not spiral, but simply collapsed inward—a vast, silent cataract of fire descending into the earth. Sheets of molten rock spilled over the pit’s rim, their edges burning white-hot before vanishing into the depths. Heat shimmered in the air, cloaking the entire scene in a rippling haze.

  The party’s icy vessel drifted closer, gleaming pale and defiant against the inferno. With Fan Mei’s gesture, it lifted free from the molten current, droplets of lava hissing and bursting as they struck its frozen hull. Suspended above the abyss, the craft glided forward through the rising waves of heat, until the black mouth of the pit yawned open beneath them. Bai Ning peered down between her feet through the translucent ice, watching as the opening descended into pitch-black depths, lit only by a sullen orange glow far below. The boat glided to the brink, hovering for a heartbeat at the lip of one of the falling lava streams.

  Then, with a breathless pause, it pitched forward.

  The world turned into motion and fire. Lava surged past in blazing ribbons as they plunged downward, the roar of it shaking the air. The ice craft streaked through cascades of molten rock, its barrier gleaming like glass beneath a storm. Heat thundered around them; light fractured in the haze.

  Bai Ning let out a whoop of pure exhilaration while Mo Jian grinned, releasing the Heaven Enshrouding Ding to strengthen the barrier around them. Fan Mei’s composure had long vanished—her eyes gleamed with excitement, a grin splitting her face. Together, they plunged into the depths.

  They emerged into an immense chasm. The ceiling was lost in shadow, the walls slick with streams of molten stone that wound together like rivers converging on a lake. In the center stretched a broad basin of lava, its surface heaving gently as though it breathed. Streaks of oily smoke darted through the air, twisting into shapes that briefly resolved into snarling hounds, swift canines, and immense guard dogs—each spitting fire at the others in a blur of play and violence.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mo Jian caught sight of a one-legged pink bird standing calmly atop the lava near the chamber’s edge. He looked away at once—but too late. The spot where it had stood erupted in a geyser of molten rock, the fiery column shooting nearly to the ceiling. Fortunately, they were far enough to escape the blast. Fan Mei turned to him, brows raised. Mo Jian only shrugged, half-apologetic.

  “Bifang,” he said in explanation.

  She nodded once, understanding.

  The craft slowed as it reached the basin, settling gently onto the molten surface. Almost immediately, the huodous began to converge—ghostly hound-shapes of smoke and flame, spitting fire as they circled. The barrier held firm, though the heat pressed closer, heavier than before. Beside Fan Mei, Bai Ning summoned her small copper shield, letting it hover protectively over her shoulder.

  Here, the air itself seemed to wail. Between the huodous’ cries and the hiss of falling lava, a low, continuous keening filled the cavern, like the world itself was mourning.

  The Lake of Lamentation was well named.

  “I’ll be needing your assistance from here on, Brother Mo, junior Bai Ning, as discussed.” Fan Mei laid the guzheng across her lap and brushed her fingers against the string until a single crisp note emerged. Then she plucked one string after another, a simple, beautiful melody unfurling. The music filled the lake—not drowning the wailing, but softening its edge until it became bearable.

  “Of course, Fairy Fan Mei.” Mo Jian sent the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding to hover above them. It grew, turning translucent as it shifted from solid matter into energy, until it completely covered them and the boat in its azure barrier. With that secured, Fan Mei shifted her spiritual energy from defense to search.

  Mo Jian watched with interest. He was useless at finding the Horned Bull Demon King, but he could keep them safe until Fan Mei did. She changed the guzheng’s pattern, the melody growing more melodic, haunting; its lyrical notes threaded through the cavern.

  Bai Ning watched with eager curiosity. Fan Mei smiled at her. “The music acts like a ripple. Any disturbance of a similar nature will create a harmony I can pick up on. As long as it is near to the surface, the horn of the Bull Demon King will resonate with my notes and render it unable to hide.”

  “Almost like a radar,” Mo Jian mused.

  Bai Ning tilted her head. “Radar?”

  “Something I heard long ago on the mainland,” he lied. “A technique of detecting hidden things by bouncing sound.”

  Fan Mei nodded, half-listening as her fingers continued to dance. “The concept is similar, then. Brother Mo, I need you to navigate the boat and keep the huodous and other nuisances off us. Bai Ning, if you can, herd them around us—if they see us as hard targets, they’ll be less likely to swarm.”

  Bai Ning leaped at the chance, eager to use the magical tools she had crafted months ago and barely had a chance to play with until now. Truthfully, Mo Jian could have handled the demons with more ease, but Fan Mei’s assignment gave Bai Ning the opportunity she wanted and freed him to focus his spiritual sense even more deeply on the lake. As soon as their target showed itself, Mo Jian would move to capture it. That, he knew, was his role today.

  Mo Jian guided the boat forward with his qi, letting it drift slowly across the molten surface. He kept them just within range of the wall; up to the point where Fan Mei’s melody could reach, careful not to stray too far. The lake was vast—they would have to shift position eventually, mapping and searching it grid by grid until their quarry revealed itself.

  Bai Ning, however, was far more interested in dealing with the huodous. She reached into her storage pouch, and an elegant green sword floated out. It was barely an inch long at first, but it grew rapidly until it was full-sized, gleaming in the infernal light as it hovered before her.

  With a flick of her wrist, she sent it surging forward. The blade darted through the air, cutting and piercing the smoky bodies of the huodous with startling ease. Each strike left behind a patch of dissipating vapor and a high-pitched yelp or hiss. The sword weaved around them, skewering one smoke demon after another until it formed a spinning cocoon of protection around the boat.

  Not satisfied, Bai Ning formed a hand seal and gestured toward the sword. Her copper shield flew from her shoulder to join it, the two magical tools blurring as they met. Like pigments dissolving together in oil, they bled into one another until only a single weapon remained—a copper sword, etched with the same elegant patterns as before, though now the metal looked old and weathered.

  Its power, however, was anything but diminished. A haze of coppery light shimmered around the blade, and any huodou that came close enough to brush against it simply dissolved on contact. In addition, it sent out streaks of light shaped like swords to fly around, targeting any huodou that attacked them. Bai Ning cheered softly, cutting through an entire swarm before the rest finally got the message and scattered.

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  Mo Jian resisted the urge to shake his head. So much for dissuading her from the sword path.

  Still, her performance was impressive. Merging two tools—even those designed to be compatible—was no small feat. He might have provided the Bin Steel and tempered it with his core flames, but the refining work had been hers alone. It was always best to wield a tool of one’s own making in the early stages of cultivation—and, besides, refining was a valuable skill. If nothing else, it could always earn her a living.

  Win-win.

  They continued on in that rhythm for a time—Bai Ning cutting down the huodous that dared to draw near, Mo Jian shielding them from the lake’s oppressive heat and dangers, and Fan Mei focused wholly on her search for the Niumowang.

  Then, without warning, a shimmer of pink flickered in the air before them.

  Mo Jian’s eyes widened. “Don’t look!” he shouted—

  —just as a geyser of magma erupted mere inches away.

  The icy vessel rocked violently, nearly tipping. Mo Jian poured his qi into stabilizing it, forcing the craft upright while reinforcing the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding’s barrier. The molten spray hammered against the shield, hissing where droplets met the azure surface. For a moment, it was like being caught in a storm of fire and stone.

  Then the eruption died down, leaving only the soft patter of cooling magma—cherry-hot stones splashing harmlessly off their barrier or dropping back into the lava with sharp hisses.

  Inside, no one panicked. They were all seasoned cultivators; such danger was nothing new. Fan Mei hadn’t even paused her playing—the music still flowed, steady and unbroken.

  “Sorry,” Bai Ning said, her voice small as she gripped the edge of the boat. “I couldn’t look away in time. First time seeing one.”

  She sounded embarrassed, but Mo Jian waved her concern aside. There was no need. The Bifang—mirage-cloaked birds that transformed into volcanic eruptions if looked upon for more than a heartbeat—were notoriously difficult to handle, especially when they appeared right beneath someone’s nose. Still, it was little more than an inconvenience. He could deal with that level of danger easily enough.

  With a thought, Mo Jian gestured toward the snow-white parasol hovering above their vessel. It had gone silent when they had entered the Lake of Lamentation, but now, a soft snowfall began to drift down once more. Cool winds stirred, the flakes multiplying until the parasol flared with pale light, the gentle fall turning into a dense, swirling flurry.

  Vision dimmed beneath the veil of snow, but that was the intent. The frost-shrouded haze blurred their outlines, cloaking them in a bubble of white. It would be harder to see beyond it—but that, too, was to their advantage.

  If another Bifang appeared, perhaps this time, it’s form would be blurred enough that they could deal with it before it erupted.

  Yet for the next half hour, the lake remained strangely undisturbed. The music spread steadily through the cavern, and the boat drifted slowly forward, but nothing else occurred. Compared to the currents of the Lava River above, Mo Jian found the Lake of Lamentation increasingly… tedious. Yes, it was dangerous—the domain was doing its best to test them with huodous and Bifangs—but overall, it felt oddly uneventful. He chastised himself for expecting anything truly worthwhile from the Lava River.

  Of course, the heart of such a useless place was equally unremarkable.

  He was just about to—delicately—ask Fan Mei how much faith she placed in Diviner Nui Feng’s words, and whether perhaps they should consider leaving, when a harsh, dissonant buzz cut sharply through their ears. It came from the left, skimming the edge of Fan Mei’s music, yet it was immediately unmistakable.

  Fan Mei’s eyes snapped up, urgent and sharp. Mo Jian swerved the boat in that direction, pouring qi into the vessel without restraint. They surged forward, carving a furrow through the lava and sending molten sprays hissing to either side.

  At his silent command, the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding split: one maintained the barrier enveloping the boat, protecting them from the lake’s heat, while the other shot ahead toward the source of the disturbance. Bai Ning recalled her sword, separating it from her shield, which hovered once again over her shoulder. In its place, she drew a bundle of five rings from her storage pouch. The Five Elemental Binding Rings were a common magical treasure, prized for their reliability and versatility. These, however, were no ordinary set: forged from high-grade Bin Steel and infused with the cores of five different elemental demonic beasts, they were exceptionally potent, their binding power far surpassing normal designs —at least for a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

  She had no illusions about how effective her efforts would be next to her master and Fan Mei, but every little bit helped.

  Mo Jian spotted it first. His hand shot up, and faster than Bai Ning could track, the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding snapped open with a clang, lunging to scoop up the fleeing figure. It missed, smashing against the magma as the creature sprang away at the last instant, running across midair before leaping into freedom. Lava hissed as the Ding followed, giving chase.

  Bai Ning barely caught a flash at the edge of her vision—a fleeting silhouette. She gritted her teeth and hurled the Five Elemental Binding Rings in that direction. They unspooled, racing forward from different angles, each ring attempting to ensnare the elusive beast. Above, the Heaven-Enshrouding Ding loomed, descending to trap it from above.

  The beast, however, was astonishingly agile. It twisted and jumped, evading the rings with ease, even using one as a hoop to spring higher. With a deft leap and a sudden, impossible twist, the Ding grasped only air once more.

  For a crystal-clear moment, the creature hovered in midair, then plunged into the molten lake, vanishing again.

  Bai Ning stared, stunned. She had expected something like the Horned Demon Bulls she was familiar with: strong and fearsome. What she saw instead was… bizarrely cute. A hybrid of bull and seahorse, tiny enough to be the size of a dog, with the body of a seahorse and the head of a baby bull. Its features were soft, its eyes wide and frightened, and a small, nub-like horn rose from its forehead. Black scales covered its body, while its fins glimmered vivid vermillion. It was nothing like the terrifying creature she had anticipated.

  Her rings slowed, drifting uselessly in the air. Master Mo Jian muttered a curse beside her as the Ding hovered, scanning the molten expanse. Fan Mei’s guzheng played on, tempo rising, notes sharp and urgent, yet even her music could not force the beast into revealing itself. The little beast had slipped through their grasp, disappearing once more into the depths of the Lake of Lamentation.

  “It’s so cute,” Bai Ning said, looking up at Mo Jian. She didn’t bother hiding the disapproval in her tone.

  He turned to her, flummoxed. “Cute?” he echoed, then caught her tone and rolled his eyes. “Whatever it looks like, it’s still a demonic beast. One that just got away from us all.” He sighed, scanning the lake again.

  Fan Mei finally stopped playing, a frustrated expression on her face. “I can’t spot it again. We’ll have to wait for it to surface before my music can find it. I wasn’t expecting it to be easy on the first attempt, but… this is still disappointing.”

  Bai Ning enunciated carefully, making sure they were listening. “It was cute,” she insisted. “Do we really have to hunt it down? We’ll get bad karma.” She didn’t actually care about karma, but many cultivators were surprisingly superstitious—case in point: her master, who treated reincarnation with utmost seriousness. It was a good button to push.

  Fan Mei blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you to be this empathetic toward a demonic beast, junior Bai Ning. I admit, it is a shame to kill it, but such chances are rare. Also, no matter how it looks, it’s still a demonic beast. I have no idea why it’s nesting here, but outside this domain, it could easily cause disasters for mortals—or get hunted down by another cultivator.”

  Bai Ning bristled. “I’m not soft. I just think a case could be made for not killing it. How about we capture it, and you keep it as a pet?”

  Mo Jian swatted her upside the head. Her hands flew to the back of her skull as she cried out, “Master?”

  “Don’t forget why we’re here,” he said unrepentantly. “This is a favor to Fairy Fan Mei. And you know very well why it’s not feasible to turn demonic beasts above rank three into pets. There’s a reason artifact spirits abound at Core Formation and higher. Besides,” he added, “weren’t you just saying you wanted to keep a dragon as an artifact spirit? How do you plan to do that without killing it, if you can’t even bring yourself to fight this slippery bull?”

  “A dragon is completely different,” she said indignantly. Realizing Fan Mei was watching, amused, she fought down a blush and added, “And I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t fight it. Only that it could bring us bad karma.”

  She sniffed dramatically. “Here I was, trying to be mindful for all of us, and you went ahead and wasted all that effort, Master, by acting brutishly. The heavens are probably crying at your actions.”

  Mo Jian lifted his eyes to the “heavens”—the dark ceiling above the magma lake. “If they’re weeping, it’s probably in commiseration with my pain in having to deal with you.”

  Bai Ning would have stuck out her tongue, but Fan Mei was right there, so she exaggeratedly turned away instead. Inwardly, she was grateful the conversation had returned to its familiar track. She could admit she had overreacted slightly. Still, it was a smooth recovery, she congratulated herself: no childish whining.

  She glanced up, aiming for pose and grace, only to meet Fan Mei’s gaze. The other woman wasn’t just entertained—she looked like she was suppressing a laugh. Ugh. This was why she was such a pain in the ass to deal with.