Chapter Thirty-Four: The Miao Village

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Traveling westward from the southern shore of Lake Poyang for six days, on the twelfth day of the seventh lunar month, Yun Qi saw clouds spanning the Gan River. On the twenty-eighth day of the seventh month, the clouds passed Zhuzhou, ascended Mount Jiulang, gazed north toward Tanzhou, and looked south toward Mount Heng. Tanzhou bustled with red dust, the Xiang River cut through the city, the Southern Sacred Peak transformed into the Axis of Balance, and the myriad peaks pointed skyward like drawn swords.

On the fifteenth day of the eighth month, Yun Qi reached Baoqing and watched the sea of clouds ascend to meet the bright moon atop Langshan.

By the eighth day of the ninth month, Yun Qi arrived at Wugang.

Standing to the west of Wugang County, endless green mountains stretched before him, their origins and ends unknown. These nameless mountains, at the junction of the Three Xiang, Southern Wilds, and Miao Territories, were dense with vegetation; ancient trees and lingering mists blocked out the sky and sun.

After braving mountains and fording rivers, always choosing the wildest and deepest paths, Yun Qi had left Lake Poyang when the lotuses bloomed red, and now, as osmanthus scented the air, after two months of living on wind and dew, he had finally arrived here.

He turned to take one last look at the vast plains of the Three Xiang, then, without a backward glance, stepped into the mountains.

For two days he traversed the range, until he came to a mountain ravine where a brook, about six meters wide, crossed his path. The water ran clear and swift, washing the stones beneath into smooth pebbles. Small, blue-black fish played in the current, but at the sight of him, they darted away.

Yun Qi crouched by the stream, intending to wash his face, when he caught sight of his reflection and noticed the soft, downy fuzz of a nascent beard on his chin.

He did the math; in ten days, it would be his birthday.

Before the age of ten, he had celebrated with his parents; from eleven to fourteen, with neighbors; his fifteenth birthday had been forgotten in meditative fasting atop Mount Sanqing; and now, at sixteen, he found himself deep in the southwestern mountains.

Suddenly, Yun Qi lost his urge to press on. He longed to find a village where he might rest for a while.

Since ancient times, wherever there is living water, there is smoke from hearth fires. Following the brook upstream for some ten kilometers, he eventually caught sight of a small village in the distance.

He had never seen a village like this. It was built on the eastern slope of the ravine, the houses backed against the mountain, their fronts supported by timber, the rooms themselves jutting out over the void. Each house was built into the slope, connected by a maze of ladders, forming a network in all directions. The rooftops, perhaps due to the misty dampness, were covered in moss, so that the houses clung to the hillside like creeping vines.

On the opposite slope, a patch of fields lay golden in the September sun, but their terraced form, carved into the mountain, was also unfamiliar to Yun Qi—and matched the village beside them perfectly.

Thus, from afar, the village rose in green steps like climbing vines, while the terraced fields lay stacked like layers of golden phoenix leaves, with a murmuring brook weaving through, singing a lighthearted mountain song.

He was struck speechless by the beauty; to encounter such a sight in the midst of the endless mountains was as breathtaking as his first glimpse of the boundless Lake Poyang.

He thought for a moment, tucked his "Autumn Waters" sword into his stone gourd, drew out his bundle, and slung it over his back, adopting the guise of an ordinary wandering Taoist. As he made his way toward the village, he caught two plump mountain rabbits and carried them with him.

Before he reached the village, a chorus of barking broke out. Within moments, seven or eight large white dogs gathered at the village entrance, barking furiously at Yun Qi.

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Yun Qi dared not approach and stood waiting.

The barking shattered the village’s tranquility, and soon many people emerged, all dressed similarly, most in indigo blue. Some men, working in the fields, heard the commotion, saw the stranger at the gate, and began to return.

The villagers said nothing, simply stared at Yun Qi in silence, while the white dogs continued their clamor.

“Good people, I am but a wandering Taoist seeking shelter for the night. I’ve caught two rabbits, and I have some coins as well, all at your disposal.”

Yun Qi called out loudly.

No one replied; they only stared, and the white dogs barked on.

Unaccustomed to such a scene, Yun Qi felt his scalp prickle and was about to leave.

Suddenly, a rooster crowed, its cry piercing the din and silencing the white dogs.

A magnificent rooster, with a crimson crown, golden claws, and resplendent feathers, had somehow perched atop a roof and now threw back its head to crow, drawing every eye.

The white dogs fell silent, grumbling softly.

The rooster fixed Yun Qi with a keen gaze; it seemed to possess a rare intelligence, as though truly assessing this stranger.

With a long, sonorous cry, the rooster leapt from the rooftop and soon disappeared into the village.

As if awakened, the village stirred to life. People emerged, their faces blossoming with friendly smiles, but when they spoke, their words were a babble Yun Qi could not understand.

“Little Taoist.”

The sound of a southern dialect caught Yun Qi’s attention. He turned to see a small, dark, wiry old man with a black scarf bound about his head, the sides and back nearly bald save for a few tufts of white hair.

“Elder, you speak the official tongue?”

The old man grinned, revealing only a few teeth. “Little Taoist, I understand you and can speak a bit myself. In my younger days, I even traveled to Zhuzhou!”

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Yun Qi smiled and saluted, “Greetings, Elder. I am a Taoist from the east, wandering the land. Today I hoped to rest in your village, if you would permit it.”

He hefted the rabbits in his hand.

The old man chuckled and nodded. “Guests from afar are always honored. A Miao village never turns away a guest.”

He took Yun Qi by the hand and led him into the village, as several lively children took the rabbits from Yun Qi.

“Elder, what just happened?” Yun Qi couldn’t help but ask—the scene had been too strange.

The old man replied with a smile, “The White Dragons are our guardians. Should anything threaten the village, they’re the first to know.” He gestured to the white dogs circling their feet.

Yun Qi looked at them—all had glossy, snow-white coats, remarkably clean for creatures of the remote mountains. Their heads were broad and round, their eyes fierce, teeth sharp, but with wide, short muzzles, and rosy noses, mouths, and eye rims. Their limbs were strong, chests deep and full, and their tails straight and upright, wagging constantly. They now seemed adorable, their earlier ferocity gone.

He smiled, reaching out to pet one. The dog showed no fear but stretched its neck forward, inviting a scratch. With a few strokes, it hummed contentedly.

“White Dragons”—what a bold and curious name.

“But the White Dragons have keen ears, not judgment. So at first, no one dared speak to you, fearing you might steal their souls,” the old man continued. “The Red-Crested Lord, though, can judge true from false. When he crows, we know if you’re a villain, a spirit, or a corpse. Once he called out, we knew you were none of those, and could welcome you.”

Yun Qi was curious. “The Red-Crested Lord is…?” He pointed to where the rooster had been.

The old man nodded. “That last call was long, not short or repeated. That’s the Red-Crested Lord telling us you’re a most excellent guest—one who brings us light.”