Chapter One: The Hunter

The Southern Wilds, an endless expanse of primeval jungle.

Lethal miasmas coiled around the treetops of ancient giants. Under the blazing sun, these colorless and odorless vapors refracted into dazzling hues, spreading a radiant rainbow across the canopy.

A floating landmass, hundreds of miles wide, swept through the sky, with dozens of white, dragon-like waterfalls cascading from its edges. High-altitude winds scattered the waterfalls into thick mists, while vibrant rainbows swirled in the watery vortexes, mingling with the prismatic miasma above the treetops in a spectacle of color.

Ji Hao stood at the brink of the floating land, gazing down from on high at the southern wilderness stretching a dozen miles below.

A colorless wind ruffled Ji Hao’s thick, dark hair. Beneath the tousled locks, a handsome and resolute face was lit by a pair of deep, piercing eyes. When Ji Hao focused intently, nine dim golden-purple sigils flickered around his pupils, exuding an aura of majesty and mystery that few dared meet.

His straight brows slashed toward the temples; a bold, proud nose; lips sharply defined; and a face cleanly cut, with a faint, ever-present smirk curving his mouth—a hint of mockery that suggested he took nothing too seriously. A simple animal-hide skirt was tied at his waist. His lean, tall form stood unyielding as a pine in a storm, rooted firmly upon the rock, radiating an indomitable strength that would not yield to any tempest.

Beside Ji Hao perched an enormous raven, its wings spanning over a hundred feet when unfurled. Fire glimmered in its crimson eyes as it vigilantly scanned the surroundings.

“Old Crow, we’re just out for a walk. No need to be so tense,” Ji Hao said, slapping one massive talon of the great raven with a laugh. “Later, we’ll catch a big snake for you to fill your belly. Then we’ll head to Blackwind Gorge to see if we can find some wind-dragonswort for my father’s health.”

The giant raven croaked softly, lowering its head to nuzzle Ji Hao’s hair affectionately.

Stretching his arms, Ji Hao yawned toward the sky in contentment. “How comfortable, so comfortable! No need to sit with those old men, fussing over roots, bark, snake fangs, and poison sacs. This is the life!”

“Hey—are there really fools who don’t fear death? Those scaly bastards! Don’t they know this jungle is Fire Raven territory now? This land belongs to us!” Ji Hao swept his gaze across the wilderness, suddenly widening his eyes and pointing down at an angle.

A group of bare-chested giants, each well over six and a half feet tall, strode through the jungle with easy swagger, their muscular bodies covered in scars. Slung over their shoulders were all manner of prey—tigers, leopards, bears—each beast several yards long, like small mountains of meat borne effortlessly by their broad backs.

“Damn it! This is Fire Raven hunting ground. These beasts are our property! Even the smallest of them could feed one of our children for a year. Clean those hides, and you could trade them for three brides!”

Shouting angrily, Ji Hao spread his arms, forming intricate signs with his fingers. Suddenly, with a thunderous crash, the nearest waterfall, thick as a man’s waist, veered from its path, guided by a mysterious force. Its flow tilted away from its natural descent, angling over thirty degrees to surge toward the men below.

The men—warriors of the Blackwater Serpent clan—were swaggering through the jungle, when the waterfall roared overhead, transforming into a torrential rain. Laughing, they looked up, mouths wide as they gulped the pure, sweet water pouring from the heavens.

At the waist of the leader, a single-horned black serpent—over ten feet long—raised its head, flicking its tongue and swaying delightedly in the downpour. The single-horned black serpent, a beast unique to the Blackwater Serpent clan, was accorded only to elite warriors as a battle companion.

Amidst the rainstorm, countless drops suddenly linked into lines; from the deluge emerged a dozen translucent water ropes, looping without warning around the warriors’ necks.

“Enemy… ambush!” the Blackwater leader screamed, his voice filled with terror.

Attacked by water sorcery? But rainstorm ambushes were the hallmark of the Blackwater Serpent clan. Fire Raven, their ancestral enemy in these mountains and forests, was known for burning foes alive—never had they heard of a Fire Raven shaman wielding water magic.

Ji Hao flicked his fingers, shifting the signs in his hands. The water ropes below jerked violently; the men ensnared by them were yanked from their feet, slammed into tree trunks, and swiftly lost consciousness.

Only the leader struggled to his feet, clutching the watery noose, tearing it apart until it burst into a spray of droplets. Behind him, the tree trunk bore a crater the size of a vat from the impact of his head, a testament to his formidable strength.

“Coward who hides in ambush—show yourself!” the giant roared, brandishing his spear.

His single-horned serpent sprang forward, darting nimbly through the rain, occasionally exhaling wisps of black chill.

“Old Crow! Go!” Ji Hao laughed, leaping onto the raven’s back. The great bird spread its wings and, with a shrill cry, plunged from the floating land toward the enraged warrior below.

The floating land hovered barely a dozen miles above the forest. In a matter of breaths, the raven’s rapid dive brought them above the trees.

The Blackwater Serpent men looked up in terror and despair at the diving raven; their faces contorted, their screams hoarse: “Fire Raven! The guardian warrior of the Fire Raven sacred ground!”

With a swipe of its colossal talons, the raven struck the leader—his body, met by the black, steel-hard claws, exploded into a bloody mist that spattered the ground.

The single-horned serpent turned to flee, but had barely covered a dozen yards before the raven’s maw opened. A jet of crimson flame, thick and viscous as molten rock, engulfed the serpent. With a final anguished cry, the beast vanished in a puff of smoke; several ancient trees caught fire, blazing like torches.

Triumphant, the raven hovered above the treetops, wings outstretched, cawing in exultation.

Ji Hao patted the raven’s head and nimbly dropped to the forest floor. Not far away, a monumental tree was entwined in ancient vines. Ji Hao swiftly selected several dragon-tendon vines—each centuries old—and wove them into ropes, binding the unconscious warriors together, along with all their hunted prey.

“Let’s take the catch back first, Old Crow—let’s speed up!”

Leaping back onto the raven’s back, Ji Hao let out a long howl. The raven grasped the captives and prey in its claws, beating its mighty wings southward. With a few strokes, the raven climbed thousands of feet into the air, black feathers glowing dimly with firelight, and in several breaths, they were gone.

After an hour’s flight, a towering peak blocked the way. At its cloud-piercing summit stood a dozen colossal mulberry trees, each a thousand feet tall.

Nestled among their branches were scores of massive nests, circled by hundreds of ravens, each larger than Ji Hao’s own mount. Their cacophonous cawing shook the roiling clouds, keeping them from approaching the mountain.

A hundred miles from the peak, a blaze shot toward them. Standing upon the fire was a burly man, nearly ten feet tall, who bellowed at Ji Hao, “Hao! Sneaking out again, are you? You’re just a brat—aren’t you afraid some giant bird will carry you off?”

Catching sight of the prisoners and prey in the raven’s talons, the man laughed gruffly and pumped his fist. “Just like Ji Xia’s boy! Where’d you catch this bunch of scaly scoundrels? Now the mines on the far slope will have enough slaves!”

He paused, frowning. “Better get back. Ji Xia’s distant cousin is here with his clan… That one’s not a welcome guest. He’s up to no good, I’m sure!”

Ji Hao’s expression darkened. He stomped on the raven’s head, urging it to accelerate as they sped toward a deep valley beneath the great mountain.