Reach Heaven Via Feng Shui Engineering, Drug Trade And Tax Evasion

As she walked through the town, she popped a spirit stone into her mouth, and started to draw spiritual energy out of it and into her meridians, enjoying the soft, crackling feeling on her tongue as it began to fracture and dissolve. She was almost completely dry after the snake jump, and would need at least five spirit stones to fully refill her dantians - a full half of what she had left - but she couldn’t risk waiting on her natural regeneration, even though there was a fair amount of spiritual energy up in the air. If Wang Yonghao was in town, then she could run into him at any point by sheer coincidence, and facing all the heavenly bullshit that followed him at anything less than her best was outright suicidal.

Her divination bottle directed her all the way through the town, up towards the ridge above the valley that separated Reflection Ridge from its sister town of Glaze Ridge. The buildings ended some distance away, and her tired legs screamed at her with every step as she pushed herself to keep going, over glittering, sandy earth, until she reached the sharp edge where the ground dropped down into the valley proper.

The sight beyond the ridge took her breath away.

The valley was quite narrow, the maps marking it as just an empty stretch of rock, but the maps couldn’t possibly tell the whole story. In the light of the setting sun, the whole valley shone like a strip of flame, iridescent colors shifting across the landscape, scarlets and golds mixing with emeralds and purples. There was no vegetation, no buildings, nothing but softly rolling hills and a riot of colors like she had never seen before, as if the rainbows from the sky were sealed up into the ground itself.

She spent a good ten minutes simply taking it all in, before a cloud covered up the closest sun and snapped her out of it.

The source of the shine cracked under her feet, and once she shook herself free, she crouched down to take a closer look. It was glass, permeated by spiritual energy and growing freely on the ground all across the valley, covering it like moss. What she had at first mistaken for sand were merely small, crystal-clear grains, polished to a shine by erosion.

She reached down, and broke off a shard, wincing when she saw a drop of blood well up on her finger - so sharp she barely even felt it. The ridge below her was absolutely covered in it, and from a distance, no doubt looked exactly like an enormous mirror.

Normally, spiritual energy behaved somewhat like a gas, spreading out across an environment; here, though, it rolled heavy across the ground, collecting down in the valley itself. She could feel it growing denser further down the ridge - metal, her own type, and a fair amount of it. A minor subtype then - and the true cause behind the glass.

She breathed in deeply, cycling it through her meridians and absorbing what she could. Its concentration could not compare to a spirit vein, of course, let alone Wang Yonghao’s inner world - but to her, who grew up in Golden Rabbit Bay, sucked completely dry by those who lived here, where cultivators had to rely on spirit stones for even a sip of spiritual energy, this felt almost like seeing expensive wine simply spilled all over the floor.

Speaking of Wang Yonghao.

Walking alongside the ridge, she quickly checked where her target was. Her luck had gotten worse still - at a guess, she had perhaps another day or two before the heavens cut her off. At least, this close to him, she didn’t need a dioptra - she could easily tell the difference between the directions, estimated from two points a hundred meters from each other. He was clearly in Glaze Ridge: the town she could see just across the field of glass, the valley dipping down between them before coming back up. She would have to find a way to get across.

Soon, she found a way down: a narrow path that snaked alongside the cliff’s face, down into the valley below. She stopped in front of it, thinking it over.

At first glance, the danger of crossing over did not seem overly high - even if the glass could cut her skin, her sandals would stand up to it just fine. Of course, she might slip and fall - but as a cultivator, she could keep her balance even if the ground broke below her feet, and in the worst case, could simply activate her spiritual shield. Having to protect her entire body from the cuts would certainly be a drain on her reserves, but it could save her from disastrous injury until she could get back up.

No, it was the spiritual energy that concerned her - if it made glass grow all over the valley, she couldn’t know for sure what effect it would have on her body if she simply walked into the dense clouds of it.

And of course, where there was free spiritual energy, there would be demon beasts. She did not want to encounter whatever made its home among the shards of glass, sharp enough a person could not take a step without cutting themselves open.

Her stomach rumbled, and she shook her head. After the hours-long dash on top of Curls she was starving, and dehydrated to boot. The first step was finding a good meal.

This valley would not be going anywhere.

She found a tavern, and ordered herself a dish of stir-fried rice and tea, and proceeded to shovel it into her mouth so quickly she had barely even registered the taste. The hot tea forced her to slow down, and she spent some time planning her approach to the valley while she waited for it to cool.

The sun in the sky was setting soon: with the time she spent on her meal, even if she set out right now, she was sure that it would be dark before she completely crossed over. She could light her way with the Crushing Glance of the Netherworld Eyes, but with how open the valley was, she would stand out for miles around. Even if there were no demon beasts here that hunted by sight - for surely the local cultivators would have cleared them out - she would prefer not to announce her arrival in Glaze Ridge more than was absolutely necessary.

Besides that, there was Wang Yonghao to worry about. There was a good chance he had already gotten himself involved in some local problem, and she didn’t want to walk into it blind.

On the other hand, the man had probably the most experience avoiding trouble of anyone in the entire world - he was involved in hundreds of bizarre coincidences and heaven-defying incidents, and yet managed to stay completely out of the public eye. No doubt, some of it had to be his own luck, or direct heavenly influence - but now that she had a bit of experience at doing the very same thing, she could appreciate the skills involved, even if Yonghao himself might not think of them as anything special.

But first, she had to cross the valley, and that meant she needed information. She finished her meal off with a healing pill - while it was bad to overindulge, it would help her muscles recover faster - and headed off to the local post office.

As she walked, a light drizzle had started to fall from the clouds above. She could only hope the rain would not start in full until she crossed: the temperature fell as night approached, and being drenched by ice cold rain would be the height of misery.

The first thing she noticed when she entered the post office was how chilly it was, despite the roaring fireplace against one of the walls. The second was the strange, porcelain mask on the face of the postal worker manning the counter.

It was smooth, covering their entire face, and leaving only thin holes for the eyes, with a black cowl sewed into the edge and hiding the rest of the head. On their hands were thick, woolen gloves, while the sewn symbols on their robes - similarly thick and woolen - marked them out as being an apprentice clerk, not yet a full postmaster.

On their whole body, there wasn’t even a single spot of uncovered skin.

This late in the day, there were no other customers in the room, and she approached the counter freely, nodding to the clerk. They nodded back at her, and rose from their seat.

“I am Junming.” They bowed to her, slight warbling barely audible in their voice. “How may I help you?”

“Lan Yishan, loose cultivator. I’d like the local cultivator almanac, please,” she said, leaning against the counter, “as well as hear any news you may have.”

“On the road for a long time?” Junming said, moving towards the side of the room. The cold spot moved together with them.

“Indeed. I’ve only arrived less than an hour ago.”

“Reflection Ridge is a small town.” Junming nodded, then paused, and shook their head instead, bringing a stack of papers over to her, tied together with thread. “Not a lot happens here. If you want details about the duels of young master Shizhe, then he hasn't had one in weeks.”

She perked her ears at that, and Junming pointed to the stack of papers.

“It’s all in the almanac,” they warbled, and she nodded, quickly starting to skim through.

The files of Reflection Ridge and Glaze Ridge were shared; taken together, three sects made their home here - Nine Singing Vessels, Northern Scarlet Stream, and Palace of the Glowing Cliffs.

Out of the three, Northern Scarlet Stream grabbed the most of her interest. It was merely a branch of the Flowing Scarlet River sect, yet still the largest of the three sects in this area, and it seemed that its parent sect tended to send a lot of their members here to train. This was, by itself, not too remarkable, but what truly set it apart was the profile of one Jian Shizhe, a nephew and direct disciple of one of the sect Elders.

She came across it about halfway through the stack, and whistled in amazement. Most cultivators ended up fighting a duel at some point in their lives, but the list in front of her eyes was six dozen long, stretching over several additional sheets. Ironically enough, well over three quarters were with members of his own sect, for seemingly petty insults. Most of the duels he fought, he won… Yet some seemed entirely hopeless from the start, opponents far above his skill.

At the top of the file was a portrait - a young man, wearing robes in the ancient style, with a thick leather jacket sewn to resemble a breastplate. His face looked serene, but she couldn’t help but imagine a disdainful smirk in the curve of his lips.

A loose cultivator had nothing but honor, and so it was understandable to fight like hell to defend it. What kind of person did it take, to be born into one of the highest positions in a sect and still spring at every insult, sword at the ready?

“A very interesting man, I agree,” she said, quickly memorizing as much of the rest of the almanac as she could, “I can’t help but notice that the files for the two towns are united - I take it people travel between them a lot?”

“People, no.” Junming shrugged. “The road around the valley is too long. Cultivators, yes.”

“Hmm. So I could simply walk over to the other town? There are no demon beasts in the valley?”

“There are glass shamblers - but they are slow, and stay away from people,” they said. “Can’t catch a cultivator. If you want to cross - wait for the day. It’s too dark at night.”

“I have a light.”

“Then, you can cross,” Junming said. A moment later, as if remembering this was required, they nodded.

“Spiritual energy will not be a problem?” she asked, trying to make sure. “My lungs won’t grow glass on the inside?”

“No, no.” they said with a slight warble, shaking their head. “Glass grows slowly. Your soul is solid, yes? Then it’s not a problem, as long as you pass through quickly. Many people work in the valley during the day, mining the glass - it is safe.”

Qian Shanyi nodded. A cultivator’s soul would absorb and convert spiritual energy into the type appropriate to their constitution, erasing its special properties in the process - yet many forms could affect you in the short time before this conversion was complete, or kill you through indirect means. She had to make sure.

“Thank you,” she said, handing the cultivator almanac back to Junming, and waited until they grasped the papers securely with their thick woolen gloves, and put it away into a nearby cupboard.

She tapped her cheek, deliberating if she should ask, but her curiosity won out in the end. She couldn’t just let this opportunity pass - despite a fair amount of effort, she had never been able to find a book that talked about the topic back in the Golden Rabbit Bay.

“If I may ask, fellow cultivator Junming,” she asked slowly, “what is a Shui Gui doing around here? I thought your people preferred much warmer climates.”

“I was assigned here two months ago,” Junming said. A moment later, they shrugged. “It’s warm enough.”

“And the clothing -” she motioned to the thick robes, “- it helps?”

Junming made a strange warbling noise, and didn’t respond. The silence stretched, before she shook her head. Perhaps this was a cultivation secret, and thus Junming couldn’t tell her about it in the first place.

“I am sorry if I have caused offense.” she said instead, wanting to correct her misstep, “It was not my intention. It’s just that it’s my first time meeting one of your people. Did you know you are in the history books?”

“I have studied to be the postmaster,” they said, shifting in place. “Of course I have read the books.”

She rubbed her eyes. Shanyi, get it together. Shui Gui emotions were hard to read, but she could still tell her words were off the mark.

Shui Gui, or water ghosts, were one of the classic success stories of the reformation, the dispelling of ancient myths and bringing people together. They were said to be the ghosts of people who drowned, lurking in the places of their death, and dragging unsuspecting victims underwater in order to steal their bodies. None of that was true, but the myths persisted, and even a sighting of a Shui Gui would cause a panic - and the calling of spirit hunters - until a determined cultivator joined one of their tribes and wrote down what he saw.

In truth, Shui Gui were not ghosts, but gray-skinned amphibious humanoids that could live both on land and underwater, preferring the latter. Unlike humans, their constitution had an overabundance of water-type spiritual energy, far beyond even cultivators with water nature deliberately seeking to expand their meridians. As a result, their bodies exuded an aura of cold, stronger the more spiritual energy was around them.

Shui Gui did not drown people in malice, except as a retaliation for humans killing Shui Gui. However, the cold water that surrounded their bodies was deceptive: an unprepared person was likely to suffer from cold shock and drown. Even if they survived the first minute, death from hypothermia was soon to follow. Accidents were common, and the superstition embellished the rest. It did not help that most Shui Gui did not speak any human languages, and even trying to learn one was strenuous due to the different shapes of their throats.

But no matter the differences, Shui Gui could cultivate, and faced all the same heavenly tribulations. What could a differently shaped throat or living underwater matter in the face of that most ancient foe? A cultivator was a cultivator, spirit, human or otherwise. After proper contact was established, and especially after the development of Fingerspeak, Shui Gui were the first to join the ranks of about half a dozen species that, nowadays, lived in peace among the humans. Many Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures could only be found at the depths of the sea, where Shui Gui could reach and harvest them easily - while the empire, with its much greater resources than any given Shui Gui tribe, helped research cultivation techniques suited for their unique constitutions.

Most treatises about the history of the reformation dedicated an entire chapter to Shui Gui, but tended to shy away from the personal details. How did they live? How did they sleep, if the water would freeze around them over a long night? Even the record that started it all felt distant, seen mostly from the outside - and of course it could only describe a single tribe. Even before Qian Shanyi became a cultivator, she always wanted to meet one of them - a living symbol of the stories she grew up on - yet Shui Gui were rare, and she only ever saw a single one in Golden Rabbit Bay.

But if they didn’t want to talk… Her curiosity could take a backseat.

“I really shouldn’t have asked,” she shook her head, and turned to leave, “A cultivator’s privacy is sacrosanct - I once again apologize if I have crossed some lines. Your speech is excellent - I am sure you would make an excellent postmaster.”

“Because I am Shui Gui?” They said with an alien tone in their voice, shifting in place once again.

“Hm?” She turned back in confusion.

“You say my speech is excellent,” they said, “but it isn’t. I know this. So why do you say this? Because I am Shui Gui?”

“I… Suppose?” she said slowly.

“So you don’t say my speech is excellent. You say it’s excellent for a Shui Gui.”

“It is hard for you to learn, is it not?” She frowned. “Due to the different throat shape?”

“My throat is fine,” they said, “My grammar is awkward because I study little. I am not used to the words.”

“Well, I still think you are making great progress,” she smiled, “I doubt most people could even tell, frankly.”

“But I am not here because of language.” They shifted in place once again, in what she was starting to interpret as a frown, or another sign of annoyance or discomfort. “I will be postmaster. We work with books, not sounds. You say you don’t mean offense, but you lie and say my speech is great. You say it’s why I will make great postmaster, but that makes no sense. Why?”

“I apologize - ”

“Yes yes, you are sorry, I know this. But why say at all?”

She paused, collecting her thoughts. This was a strange question to ask - she barely even thought about what she said, really.

“I didn’t want to leave on a bad note,” she finally said, “you seemed upset at my question, and I wanted to compliment something about you to make up for it.”

“Is my throat only thing you think of?”

“It’s not about your throat.” She frowned. “It’s about the effort you had put into your skill at the language.”

“I put effort into many things,” they said, bouncing in place slightly. “I cultivate, I know the post. Why always the speech?”

“I could hardly praise your cultivation from a surface glance,” she shook her head, “it would be inappropriate, as I know neither your strengths nor what effort or wealth you have put in. Neither could I praise your knowledge of the postal regulations - for we have not discussed them.”

“But you can praise my speech?”

“It seemed far easier to judge,” she sighed, “I only sought to make you more comfortable.”

“Could do many things to make me comfortable,” they said, and their fingers moved quickly, forming patterns she dimly recognised. “We could fingerspeak.”

“I sadly do not know it. My teachers have always said it was a waste of time,” she pursed her lips, letting her disappointment bleed into her voice - though she couldn’t guess if Junming would pick up on it. “Without their help, I could never find a good practice partner, nor the time for it. It is of little use in cities, I suppose, unless you are a spirit hunter - no need to keep your distance and talk to a stranger from a hundred meters away, where they could not cut you down in an instant. I thought that we should have followed in the footsteps of the empire, and made all our disciples study it - but my voice mattered little.“

Oh what she wouldn’t have given to know Sign back when she was stuck in a tree with Yonghao, keeping silent within the deadly forest. She cursed her sect throughout that entire night.

The thoughts of her sect had brought up memories, and she looked back on what she said here with new eyes. She intended her words as a compliment, and perhaps she couldn’t have made a better one, knowing little of Junming - but from their perspective, to have all their struggles and achievements reduced down to their speech must have grated. She doubted it was the first time, either. In retrospect, she could empathize easily - how many times had she been complimented on being a jade beauty, instead of on managing to keep up in cultivation with her peers despite all odds?

“I will make sure to learn Fingerspeak now,” she said, bowing deeply. “I have intended to do so regardless, but this is yet another reason. I truly should have known better - thank you for showing me my errors.”

“Okay,” Junming said, slowing down a bit, before starting to hop from one leg to another nervously. “Why ask in the first place? Why make trouble?”

“To cultivate is to rebel against the heavens.” She raised an eyebrow. This should have been self-evident. “If I didn’t make trouble, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

“What do you mean? Cultivators cultivate. You don’t make trouble by cultivating, that’s what you already should do.”

“I meant what I said.” she frowned. “My teacher would have rather seen me married off to a young master of one sect or another. Thirty six years ago, I wouldn’t have even been allowed to refuse.”

“You are a woman?” Junming asked.

“What -”, she scoffed, her cheeks flushing slightly in anger, “of course I am!”

“Always hard to tell,” they said, “humans get angry when you ask, like you are right now. How do you tell?”

She pinched her nose. What a question to ask. Well, she supposed she did much the same thing, so she couldn’t exactly back out now.

“Human women are generally shorter, have breasts and wider hips.” she sighed, focusing on what would be visually obvious to a Shui Gui, “Their hair tends to be longer - male cultivators wear theirs to about their waistline, while women tend to let it grow out to their knees.”

She ran a hand through her long hair to demonstrate.

”But some don’t have any breasts,” Junming said, “and you are tall, but you say you are a woman. This doesn’t make sense.”

“I am tall for a woman,” she nodded. She had been from birth, and then deliberately added several centimeters more through cultivation, pulling her bones to grow longer with spiritual energy over many months - one of the many small perks of becoming a cultivator. “Cultivators generally tend to be taller. Nothing is universal, these are merely points you could use to make a better guess.”

“Wait,” Junming said, and she saw them take out a small brush, an inkwell, and a stack of papers, prepared to take notes. She raised an eyebrow at that.

“I write a book for other Shui Gui,” they said, “I am only one of my tribe to work for the post office - only one I know at all. Should help them understand humans. Maybe have less trouble in future.”

“Then you should note that some of this is cultural, and will change over time,” she said, “I think in the eastern provinces shorter hair tends to be in vogue.”

Junming nodded, and she spent some time describing the basics of fashion, for both cultivators and ordinary people. In the back of her head a voice told her she was wasting time, that she had to hurry, the vow wouldn’t wait, but she silenced it. If she couldn’t even help out a fellow cultivator, then what was the point of this entire journey?

But it wasn’t entirely wrong either - she did have to get going, and she said as much after she explained the basics.

“I don’t suppose you could answer my previous question?” she said with a smile, preparing to leave.

“I could,” they said, “Why? Are you writing a book about Shui Gui?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“You make trouble without reason?” Junming shifted in place again. “Never understand this about humans.”

“Is curiosity not enough?”

“Used to be, when Shui Gui made trouble, spirit hunters would come,” they said, voice warbling more than before, “two generations back, a quarter of my tribe died when one of us was seen. Not anymore, but wisdom is the same. Curiosity is no good reason for trouble.”

“You ask me if I am a woman, and you say curiosity is no good reason for trouble?” She laughed.

“Make a bit of trouble for less trouble later,” Junming said, their voice quiet, “It’s…okay. But I am a strange Shui Gui. Many others say I am wrong.”

“Well, I am a strange cultivator myself.” She shook her head, still smiling. “Fine. I grew up on stories of cultivators driving back the demon beasts and serving justice, bringing better lives to millions. This world-changing power of spiritual energy courses through my meridians, strengthening and refining my body, yet it also changes the world around us, does it not?”

She made a wide gesture with her right hand, pointing at the room around them.

“This very building was designed with spiritual energy in mind, made to resist even the might of a heavenly tribulation,” she continued, ”The days of our week are named after our dantians. Even the robes I wear - ”

She flicked a spot where the skin of her shoulders could be seen beneath a loose flap of silk.

”- are cut so that spiritual energy can flow freely in and out of my body, easy to recirculate, to form techniques or a spiritual shield. This simple requirement, in turn, affects the fashion of ordinary people, who seek to imitate us. This had been the case in ancient times as well - before the advancement of stronger spiritual shield techniques, many cultivators wore plates of armor, choosing to sacrifice their spiritual energy recirculation for the sake of protection, and you can see this in their fashion as well. To know the thousands of ways in which spiritual energy has affected the world around us - there are few things that fascinate me more.”

“That’s all?”

“You asked for a reason,” she said, “that’s my reason. I would burn my life and soul for it.”

It was why she wanted to become a cultivator in the first place, when she was ten - that, and slaughtering evils and serving justice.

“Okay,” they said simply, and she saw them lift up their cowl, pulling the mask away and revealing the dark gray skin beneath. As soon as the clothing wasn’t in the way, she felt a cloud of freezing air come towards her, and shivered.

Their face could have passed for a human, at least from a distance - but up close, the differences were unmistakable. Besides the unnatural skin color and the frost beginning to form over it, their eyes were larger, and set further away from each other, skin stretched tight over thick fat beneath. Their mouth was too wide, with thin lips, the upper lip overlapping the lower. Where a human would have hair, they had short bristles, and she could see no ears, only folds of skin on the sides of their head.

If she saw them through murky river waters, she could have definitely confused them for a corpse.

“My clothing is so that humans feel warm around me,” they said, the warble in their voice clearer without the mask in the way, “it insulates them from the cold, and makes them more comfortable. Same with the mask. It’s not just the cold - cultivators are fine, but mortals get a little scared, seeing the face. Seeing humans scared is…bad.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “Truly, I wish you success - I would make sure to read your book, once it is published. I will write to you later - I am sure we’d still have a lot to talk about.”

Junming nodded, putting their cowl back on, and she headed for the doors. When she pushed them open into the night beyond, wind and cold rain blew in her face, and she stepped back, clicking her tongue. So much for her hopes - with the time she spent here, the rain had already started to fall.

“Wait,” she heard Junming warble behind her, and turned around curiously to see them take an umbrella from behind the counter, extending it towards her.

“Humans don’t like rain, yes?” they said, “Take my umbrella. Send it back from Glaze Ridge.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I wouldn’t have expected you to own one.”

“No rain since my assignment, but the postmaster said the rain season is coming,” they said, “hard to get water out of clothes. Freezes. But, I am staying here until tomorrow - you can take umbrella.”

“Thank you for your kindness, once again, fellow cultivator Junming, but it’s not necessary.” she said, bowing deeply. “I already have a cloak.”

She opened her bag, and took out the leather cloak she bought together with Wang Yonghao back in Xiaohongshan. It felt like an eternity ago, but was really only a couple weeks.

“Good luck on your trip,” Junming said.

“Good luck to you as well,” she bowed, “I hope that the next time I visit, you will already be the postmaster.”

She walked out of the postal office, and confidently headed to the edge of town, a light smile playing on her lips from the conversation she had.

Once she reached the ridge, she took the path cut into its side, and descended down onto the fields of glass. The night was pitch black - light of the stars and the moon all but completely blocked by the clouds - and she circulated the Crushing Glance of the Netherworld Eyes to make her hair glow, heading towards the lights of the other town in the distance. The rain should hide her own light, at the very least.

She set her feet down, one after another in a steady rhythm, picking her steps to avoid slipping on the wet glass or stepping in deep puddles that were starting to form all around her. The valley was quite narrow: even moving slowly, she doubted it would take her more than twenty minutes. Yet in the back of her mind, something set her on edge.

Had she forgotten something important? Her eyebrows creased in a frown as she tried to puzzle it out.

And in the clouds above her, the rain kept falling.

The inherent weakness of the Crushing Glance of the Netherworld Eyes revealed itself within minutes of her descending down into the valley: it was a technique for applying makeup, not one made to produce light, and the glowing powder it produced was swiftly washed away by the rain. At first, she simply kept recirculating the technique again and again - the drain of it was low enough, after all - but after a couple minutes, grew annoyed, and stopped to make a better lantern.

She took her knife chest off her back, covered it with her leather coat to keep the rain out, and quickly emptied her healing pill bottle directly into the chest. The chest was waterproof, after all, and should keep the pills reasonably safe.

She filled the pill bottle with the glowing powder, closed it up with the stopper, and quickly tied it to the handle of her sword. The little bottle shined bright, safe from rainwater, and now she could even send her sword flying ahead to check her path.

The rain wasn’t letting up as she walked on, and she had to start hopping over small streams here and there, rainwater beginning to overflow the small depressions between the glass. Yet her path was peaceful overall, quiet cracks of glass under her sandals washed away by the rain.

As she came to the foot of a small glass hill, she heard a strange rumbling sound in the distance - different from the swooshing sounds of the rain all around her, and sent out her sword in that direction, pausing to observe. If this was one of those “glass shamblers”, then she wanted to know what she was dealing with.

Within the small circle of light from her lantern, she saw a wall of water rushing towards her, easily as high as she was tall.

Her eyes widened, and she dashed up the hill, signing for the sword to return. She made it to the top just in time to see the wall of water pass where she stood mere moments ago, turning a calm stretch of glass into a roaring, burbling river of rainwater. She would have been swept away for sure, if she didn’t hear it coming.

She snorted, caught her sword with its sheath, and continued on. If nature wanted to kill her, it would have to try a bit harder.

And yet, her worry only heightened.

The hill was almost entirely flat, and she soon reached the peak, and descended down the other side… only to see another stream of roaring water, far wider than what she could jump across, cutting off her path.

With agonizing slowness, the pieces started to fall into place.

One: the valley she was walking through was covered in glass.

Two: unlike earth, glass could not absorb any rainwater.

Three: water flowed downhill.

Four: this valley was narrow, but long, continuing on in both directions beyond this spot.

The pieces clicked together, and pronounced her sentence. She sent her sword out to fly around the hill, and saw what she already knew would be there: water encircled her on all sides, cutting off any path of retreat.

She was standing in the middle of a flash flood, on a shrinking island of razor sharp glass. If the water swept her away, she would be raked across the bladed ground for many miles and surely torn to shreds when her spiritual shield gave out.

And in the clouds above her, the rain kept falling.