Gathering Herbs in Peril

"Watch your northern flank — there's a group of higher-ranked White Demon Eagles flying your way. Suppress your presence immediately, and whatever you do, don't let them catch your human scent. I can't keep talking or they'll detect me too. Signal me once you're safe."

Lingling's voice cut off. Wang Xiaojun's eyes locked onto the north.

Above the ridge line to the north, a large flock of White Demon Eagles wheeled in slow circles, patrolling their territory. Every shrill cry they loosed made Wang Xiaojun's chest go cold.

He held his breath and, with deliberate care, crushed a small pellet between his fingers — a concealment pill that the military distributed widely. It could mask every trace of human scent; at a sufficient distance, even creatures with the keenest noses would catch nothing.

Wang Xiaojun and the gray eagle huddled beneath the undergrowth, watching the flock pass overhead. They had been flying by for some time, and he was about to rise and press on — when he remembered something an old veteran had told him back at camp: White Demon Eagles patrol in a looping pattern, doubling back to sweep each stretch of territory twice before moving on. That relentless, overlapping vigilance was exactly why so few other species could hold ground inside their domain.

He steadied himself and waited in silence a little longer. Sure enough, the beat of more wings filtered down through the canopy. If he had bolted when he first thought to, they would have had him.

With that danger behind him, Wang Xiaojun mounted the gray eagle and continued on.

Mountain after mountain slid past beneath them. Working from memory, Wang Xiaojun searched for the Eagle Red Grass that had once treated his wounds.

*Should be just ahead. Let's hope there aren't any high-bloodline White Demon Eagles around.*

A White Demon Eagle of high bloodline could read the gray eagle's lineage at a glance. The gray eagle could pass unnoticed among the White Demon Eagle Legion well enough, but Battle-General-class and Commander-class creatures had eyes and noses sharp enough to see right through the ruse.

Before long, the familiar stretch of mountain forest came into view. Wang Xiaojun spotted a wash of flame-red blooms spreading across a steep hillside, brilliant against the rock. A handful of White Demon Eagles were squabbling and roughhousing nearby.

He guided the gray eagle down toward the slope with exaggerated care, pressing himself flat and burying his body and head as deep as he could into the gray eagle's feathers. The bickering White Demon Eagles glanced over as the gray eagle landed — saw what appeared to be one of their own kind — and paid it no further mind. Wang Xiaojun steered the gray eagle to a spot a little away from them, then slipped off its back and used the bird's bulk as a screen while he set to work harvesting Eagle Red Grass in earnest.

The number of people struck by the plague had to be well into the tens of thousands by now. He needed a tremendous quantity of the herb, and the military had given him a spatial bracelet with generous capacity — he intended to fill every last bit of it.

He worked fast and rough. But the stalks of Eagle Red Grass were ringed with thorns like a rose's. He hadn't thought to bring gloves. By the time he'd been at it for a short while, his palms were crosshatched with cuts, each one screaming for attention. He gritted his teeth and kept going — he couldn't stop. All those lives were resting on him.

The blood came heavier than he expected. The smell drifted on the wind toward the squabbling eagles nearby. One by one they turned their heads, then began to drift in his direction.

*That's bad — they've spotted me. Wait, no. They must have only caught the smell of blood. They don't know yet.*

He ducked behind a nearby boulder and murmured to the gray eagle: "Lead them away from me, then come back."

The gray eagle puffed up its feathers and launched itself at one of the White Demon Eagles with deliberate aggression, wings slamming squarely into it.

The struck eagle squawked in outrage and retaliated at once, driving its hooked beak into the gray eagle's back again and again. Within moments the gray eagle and several White Demon Eagles were locked in a brawling tangle of feathers.

The gray eagle bided its time, then burst skyward. The offended eagle screamed and gave chase.

*Good bird.*

With those eagles gone, Wang Xiaojun harvested without restraint. He tore a strip from his sleeve and wound it around his bloody palms, then clenched his jaw and kept pulling. No matter how much it hurt, he had to wrench these deep-rooted herbs out of the ground. Every time he seized a root and hauled back with all his strength, it was no different from tearing apart a briar with bare hands. Before long, the cloth wrapped around his palms was shredded clean through.

Tears streamed down his face. He didn't slow by a single beat.

He lost track of how many plants he'd pulled. Gradually, the space inside the bracelet was nearly full.

"*Shree—*"

A familiar cry split the air overhead.

His heart lifted. The gray eagle's timing was perfect. Time to go home.

He scrambled onto the gray eagle's back. The bird beat its wings and launched into a swift climb, carrying Wang Xiaojun toward the Western Fortress. They hadn't flown far when the shrill cries of the White Demon Eagles rose up behind them.

"Go — faster! Don't let them catch us!"

The gray eagle strained its wings to the limit, each downstroke rapid and urgent. It knew, too, that if those White Demon Eagles closed the distance, its young master's life would be forfeit. Fortunately the pursuing eagles were still chasing out of wounded pride from being antagonized — they hadn't yet realized a human had trespassed. If they had, they would have screamed for their kin and sealed off the entire area in minutes.

On the gray eagle's back, Wang Xiaojun grimaced through the agony. His palms were layer upon layer of wounds, flesh and blood a single indistinguishable mess. He could no longer bend his fingers — the tendons there were nearly severed. But he had the Eagle Red Grass. He could return and report success. He just had to stay careful the rest of the way home.

West Lake

Mo Fan stood with his head tilted back, watching the sky to the west. The battle between the Military Mages and the White Demon Eagles was escalating by the minute — the front was grinding steadily closer to Hangzhou, and time was running short for everyone.

At least Lingling had already confirmed that Wang Xiaojun was on his way back, laden with what he'd gone to find. That loosened something tight in Mo Fan's chest.

Once Wang Xiaojun brought the Eagle Red Grass home, this crisis would be over.

On his end, two truckloads of gutter oil — well, Blood Serum — had been nearly consumed by the Totem Xuan Serpent, which had then abruptly plunged into a deep sleep. The wounds across its body had cracked open fully, looking somehow worse than before. Mo Fan couldn't make sense of it. Whether this creature would actually recover was anyone's guess.

Tang Yue had been called away by Tang Zhong. For now, Mo Fan could only stay here and keep watch over this enormous serpent that had once scared the living daylights out of him — standing guard in her place.