The travel through the Dragon's Pulse was not a journey; it was an erasure of time. One moment, they were submerged in the silty, toxic darkness of the Huangpu River; the next, the water around them turned from murky brown to a blinding, crystalline turquoise.
The protective bubble Li Wusheng had crafted shuddered violently.
"We are exiting the ley line!" Li shouted, though his voice was muffled by the roar of rushing water. "The pressure differential is—"
POP.
The bubble didn't just break; it evaporated.
Elara Vance was ejected from the water like a cork from a champagne bottle. She flew through the air, flailing, and crashed face-first into a sandbar. The sand was white, powdery, and hot.
She coughed, expelling seawater from her lungs, and rolled onto her back.
The sky above was not the grey smog of Shanghai, nor the violet storm of General Lei. It was a blue so deep and vibrant it looked painted. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily, and—strangest of all—several small islands were floating inside the clouds, tethered to the ocean by massive chains of rusted iron.
"Where..." Elara wheezed, sitting up.
A few feet away, Aldren Valcour dragged himself out of the surf. The Vampire Lord looked like a drowned gothic cat. His silk shirt was translucent, clinging to his skin, and his hair, usually a masterpiece of styling, hung in wet, sad curtains over his face.
"The sun," Aldren hissed, immediately curling into a ball and covering his head with his arms. "Why is the sun so aggressive? It feels personal."
Li Wusheng emerged from the waves with significantly more dignity, walking on the surface of the water for the last few steps before stepping onto the sand. He shook his sleeves, and the water simply fell away, leaving the fabric dry.
"Showoff," Elara muttered.
Li surveyed the horizon. "The Azure Archipelago," he announced gravely. "The chaotic fringe of the mortal realm. Here, the laws of physics are... suggestions."
Elara stood up, brushing wet sand off her leggings. She looked out at the seascape.
It was breathtaking. Massive pillars of limestone rose from the water, covered in vibrant green jungle. Between them, ships sailed—but not normal ships. Some had sails made of glowing energy. Some were pulled by sea serpents. One particularly large junk was floating fifty feet in the air, drifting on a wind current.
"It's beautiful," Elara whispered.
"It is a hive of scum and villainy," Li corrected. "Every rogue cultivator who fled the Jade Courts, every demon who escaped the Diyu Hells, every pirate who wanted to evade taxes—they all come here."
"Taxes," Aldren groaned from the sand. "The true enemy."
"We need shelter," Elara said, shading her eyes. "And we need to get out of the sun before Aldren turns into dust."
"I do not turn to dust," Aldren muttered, peeking out from under his arm. "I sparkle slightly, and then I blister. It is very embarrassing."
"There," Li pointed to a massive island in the distance, dominated by a sprawling, chaotic port city built vertically up the side of a cliff. "Dragon's Tooth Port. The capital of the lawless. If we can blend in, we can find a ship to take us further south, to the Deep Reaches where even Lei cannot track us."
"Blend in?" Aldren stood up, wincing at the brightness. "Look at us. A wet vampire, a stiff immortal, and a woman dressed in... what is that? Athleisure?"
"We'll blend," Elara said. A strange feeling was bubbling in her chest. A familiarity.
She looked at the port city. She could smell it from here—roasted spices, cheap rum, gunpowder, and rotting fish.
It didn't smell disgusting. It smelled like opportunity.
"Come on," Elara said, starting to walk along the sandbar toward the mainland. "I know a place."
"You know a place?" Li asked, raising an eyebrow. "You have never been here."
"Elara hasn't," she said, a small, sharp smile playing on her lips. "But Captain Valeriana has. And she says the best congee in the seven seas is at the Rusty Anchor."
Part I: The Port of a Thousand Sins
Dragon's Tooth Port was a sensory assault. The streets were narrow, carved directly into the limestone cliff, connected by rickety bamboo bridges and rope ladders. Lanterns of every color—red for food, green for brothels, purple for magic shops—hung from the eaves, fighting the midday sun.
The population was a nightmare of diversity. Humans walked alongside creatures that looked like sharks with legs. Cultivators with glowing swords haggled with goblins selling cursed amulets.
Elara, Li, and Aldren walked through the crowded market. Aldren had stolen a wide-brimmed straw hat and a heavy poncho from a drying line on the outskirts, making him look like a very pale, very expensive scarecrow.
"Keep your heads down," Li whispered, his hand hovering near the hilt of his hidden Void Sword. "The spiritual pressure here is dense. If we flare our auras, we will be detected."
"I am trying," Aldren grumbled from under his hat. "But the smell of unwashed bodies is testing my resolve. And that lizard-man just tried to pick my pocket."
"Did he succeed?" Elara asked.
"I broke his fingers," Aldren whispered smugly. "Subtly."
They passed a stall selling grilled tentacles on sticks. The vendor, a woman with four arms, shouted at them in a dialect Elara didn't recognize—until she did.
"Fresh kraken! Chewy! Good for the libido!"
The words slotted into Elara's mind like a forgotten key. It wasn't Mandarin. It was the Trade Tongue of the Southern Seas.
"We're broke," Elara replied in the same dialect, without skipping a beat. "And your kraken looks like it's been dead for three days."
The vendor blinked, then laughed, a rasping sound. "Sharp eyes, girl! For you, half price!"
"No thanks," Elara kept walking.
Li Wusheng stared at her. "You speak the dialect."
"I guess I do," Elara shrugged. "It feels... distinct. Like riding a bike."
"A bike made of cursing and slang," Li noted.
"We need money," Aldren said, eyeing a tailor shop that displayed silk robes. "I cannot continue to wear this poncho. It scratches."
"We need a ship," Elara corrected. "We can't stay here. General Lei will figure out where we went eventually. We need to buy passage to the Outer Rim."
"And how do we acquire funds?" Li asked. "I refuse to sell my sword. And Aldren's watch is waterproof, but likely has no value here where time is subjective."
Elara stopped. They were standing in front of a massive, dilapidated building that hung over the edge of the cliff. The sign above the door was a giant, rotting dragon skull with a tankard of ale in its jaws.
The Gilded Leviathan.
It wasn't a tavern. It was a gambling hall.
The sound of shouting, the clatter of tiles, and the thud of gold coins echoed from inside.
Elara felt a rush of adrenaline that had nothing to do with fear. It was the thrill of the wager. The itch in her palms.
"We don't sell anything," Elara said, turning to her companions with a grin that was 100% Valeriana. "We win it."
"Gambling?" Li looked horrified. "It is a vice! It disrupts the karmic balance! It relies on chance!"
"Chance is for amateurs," Elara said, adjusting her tank top. "I don't play chance. I play the player."
"I like this plan," Aldren said, peering into the dark, smoky interior. "I have excellent poker face. Mostly because my face is dead."
"No," Elara stopped him. "You two are the distractions. You look weird. People will stare at the Vampire and the Monk. While they stare at you, I'll clean the house."
"And what game are we playing?" Li asked skeptically.
"Pai Gow," Elara said. "With a twist. Pirate rules."
Part II: The High Roller's Table
The interior of The Gilded Leviathan was cavernous, lit by floating orbs of bioluminescent moss. The air was thick with smoke—tobacco, opium, and things that smelled like burning hair.
Hundreds of patrons were crowded around tables. There were dice games, card games, and a pit in the center where two small demons were wrestling in mud.
Elara marched straight to the back, to the VIP section. It was roped off with a heavy velvet cord, guarded by a massive ogre wearing a tuxedo that was straining at the seams.
"Member?" the ogre grunted.
"Guest of Captain Valeriana," Elara lied smoothly.
The ogre paused. He squinted at her. "Valeriana? The Scourge of the West Reach?"
"That's her."
"She's been dead for three hundred years," the ogre rumbled.
"She got better," Elara said deadpan. "Now move, tiny."
The ogre looked at Elara. He looked at the dangerous-looking pale man behind her, and the serene monk who looked like he could kill someone with a thought.
The ogre shrugged. He unhooked the rope. "Don't cause trouble. The floor manager eats people. Literally."
They walked in.
The VIP section was quieter. The tables were made of mahogany. The chips were made of jade and gold.
Sitting at the center table was a man who radiated power. He was a Shark Spirit—humanoid, but with grey skin, rows of serrated teeth, and black, dead eyes. He was dressed in fine red silk robes.
He was playing Dead Man's Dice. A game Elara remembered vividly.
"That is Tong the Skinner," a waiter whispered as he passed with a tray of drinks. "He owns half the docks."
"Perfect," Elara whispered.
She walked up to the table. There was an empty seat.
"Buy in is five hundred gold taels," Tong said without looking up, rolling three skull-shaped dice in his hand.
"I don't have gold," Elara said loud enough for the table to hear.
Tong stopped rolling. He looked up. His shark eyes fixed on her. The other players—a goblin merchant and a veiled sorceress—froze.
"Then you are in the wrong place, little meat," Tong smiled, revealing three rows of teeth. "The kitchen is that way. They are looking for ingredients."
Aldren stepped forward, his red eyes glowing under the hat. He let a low growl escape his throat.
"Easy, Fido," Elara patted Aldren's chest. She looked Tong in the eye. "I don't have gold. I have something better."
She reached into her pocket. She pulled out the Void Sword.
Li Wusheng gasped. "Elara! No!"
She slammed the sheathed sword onto the table. The heavy thud silenced the room.
"A celestial weapon," Elara announced. "Forged in the Cloud Peak Sect. Capable of cutting through dimension, spirit, and really thick cheese. Worth... let's say, ten thousand gold taels?"
Tong stared at the sword. He could feel the power radiating from it. It made the hair on his arms stand up.
"A Void Blade," Tong whispered. greed flashing in his dead eyes. "I haven't seen one of these since the Great War."
"It's yours," Elara said. "If you beat me."
"And if you win?" Tong asked, leaning back.
"I want your ship," Elara said. "The fast one. The Iron Banshee."
Tong laughed. It was a wet, gargling sound. "You want my flagship? For a sword?"
"And passage. No questions asked. And maybe a sandwich. We're starving."
Tong looked at the sword. He looked at the girl. He liked his odds. He was the best dice player in the Archipelago. He cheated, of course, using minor water magic to weight the dice, but nobody ever caught him because he ate the accusers.
"Deal," Tong said. "One round. High roll takes all."
"Elara," Li hissed in her ear. "That is my sword. It is an artifact of my sect. My master gave it to me."
"Trust me," Elara whispered back. "I'm Valeriana. I never lose at dice."
"You lost your ship!" Li argued.
"That was cannon fire, not dice. Totally different."
Elara sat down.
Part III: The Game
Dead Man's Dice was simple. Three dice. You roll. Highest sum wins. But the dice were carved from the bones of executed pirates, and they were semi-sentient. You had to impose your will on them.
Tong picked up the cup. He shook it. The sound was like rattling teeth.
He slammed the cup down. He lifted it.
Six. Six. Five.
Seventeen.
The table gasped. It was a near-perfect roll.
"Top that," Tong sneered, reaching for the sword.
Elara picked up the cup. It felt cold. Sticky.
She didn't use magic. She didn't use Qi. She used the Keystone.
Just a tiny flicker. Not enough to freeze time. Just enough to... nudge.
She thought of the dice. She remembered the feeling of command she had used on the broom.
Be nice.
She shook the cup. She slammed it down.
She lifted it.
Six. Six. Six.
Eighteen.
Silence. Absolute, ringing silence.
Tong's eyes bulged. "Impossible. The dice... they never roll triple sixes. It is the sign of the Devil King!"
"Guess he likes me," Elara smiled, reaching for the pile of jade chips representing the ship.
"CHEATER!" Tong roared. He stood up, flipping the table. The sword slid to the floor.
"Seize them!" Tong screamed at his guards—four massive shark-men with harpoons. "She used sorcery! Nobody beats Tong!"
"Run?" Aldren asked, adjusting his hat.
"Fight," Elara corrected.
She kicked the table toward Tong, knocking the wind out of him.
"Li, get the sword! Aldren, clear the exit!"
Aldren threw off his poncho. "Finally!"
The Vampire Lord unleashed his frustration. He moved like a blur, grabbing the first shark-guard by the dorsal fin and throwing him into the second one.
Li Wusheng dived for his sword. He grabbed the hilt, drew it in one fluid motion, and slashed upward. A wave of white energy cut through the heavy oak bar, sending bottles of rum exploding in a shower of glass and alcohol.
"My rum!" a patron screamed.
The tavern erupted into a brawl. It was chaos. Pirates punching demons. Goblins biting ankles.
Elara stood in the middle of it, grinning.
A shark-guard lunged at her with a harpoon.
Elara didn't have a weapon. But she had a heavy brass ashtray.
She sidestepped the harpoon, channeled her "Pirate Queen" muscle memory, and smashed the ashtray into the guard's nose.
CRUNCH.
"That's for the bad service!" Elara yelled.
"To the door!" Li shouted, cutting a chandelier loose so it crashed onto a group of reinforcements.
They fought their way to the exit. Aldren was laughing, actually laughing, as he engaged in a fistfight with the ogre bouncer.
"You possess excellent upper body strength!" Aldren complimented the ogre, dodging a punch that would have leveled a building. "But your footwork is atrocious!"
Aldren uppercut the ogre, sending him flying through the front window.
"Let's go!" Elara grabbed Aldren's arm.
They burst out of The Gilded Leviathan and into the sunlight.
"The ship!" Elara pointed to the docks. "The black one with the red sails! That's the Iron Banshee!"
They sprinted down the pier. The alarm was being raised. Bells were ringing.
"Stop them!" Tong shouted from the broken window of the casino. "Five thousand gold for their heads!"
Half the market dropped their baskets and drew weapons.
"We are popular," Li noted, running effortlessly.
They reached the Iron Banshee. It was a sleek, dangerous-looking junk, armed with ballistae.
"How do we start it?" Aldren asked, leaping onto the deck.
"It's a spirit ship!" Li said, examining the helm. "It needs a jade key!"
"I don't have the key!" Elara yelled, jumping on board.
"I do!"
Aldren held up a glowing green stone.
"I picked his pocket," Aldren grinned. "While he was screaming about cheating. I told you, I have subtle hands."
"Start the engine!" Elara commanded.
Aldren jammed the jade stone into the console. The ship hummed. The red sails unfurled automatically, catching the magical wind.
The Iron Banshee lurched away from the dock just as the mob reached the pier. Harpoons and arrows plunked harmlessly into the water behind them.
Elara ran to the stern. She leaned over the railing and waved at the furious Shark Spirit.
"Thanks for the game, Tong!" she shouted. "Your dice are weighted!"
Tong screamed in incoherent rage, tearing his own robes.
Part IV: The Open Sea
An hour later, they were in open water. The island of Dragon's Tooth was a speck on the horizon.
The Iron Banshee cut through the waves smoothly. It was a good ship. Fast.
Elara stood at the wheel, her hands resting on the polished wood. She felt... right.
Li Wusheng sat on the deck, cleaning his sword. "That was... imprudent. We have made an enemy of a crime lord."
"We got a ship," Elara said. "And we didn't spend a dime."
"You gambled my ancestral weapon," Li pointed out.
"I knew I'd win."
"How?"
Elara smiled. "Because Valeriana taught me a trick. You don't play the dice. You play the table. I nudged the dice with the Keystone, sure. But I also saw Tong winking at the waitress. He was distracted."
Aldren walked up to the helm. He had found a stash of rum in the captain's quarters.
"To the Pirate Queen!" Aldren toasted, taking a swig. "And to the finest bar fight I have had in three centuries."
He offered the bottle to Elara.
She took it. She took a swig. It burned like fire.
"To the Pirate Queen," she agreed.
"Where to now, Captain?" Li asked, standing up.
Elara looked south. The map in her head—Valeriana's map—was overlaying the horizon.
"There's an island," Elara said. "The Isle of Whispers. It's uninhabited. Cursed. Nobody goes there."
"Sounds lovely," Aldren said.
"It has a spring," Elara said. "A spring of pure Qi. Valeriana used it to heal her crew. We go there. We let Li heal fully. We let me recharge. And then..."
"Then?"
"Then we stop running," Elara said. "And we figure out how to kill a General."
Part V: The Shadow Beneath the Waves
Deep below the Iron Banshee, in the crushing black pressure of the ocean floor, something stirred.
It was not a shark. It was not a whale.
It was vast. Ancient. And it was listening.
In a palace made of coral and bones, a figure sat on a throne. He had horns of driftwood and eyes like pearls.
The Dragon King.
A messenger—a small, terrified mermaid—swam into the throne room.
"Your Majesty," she squeaked. "A ship has been stolen. Tong the Skinner has been humiliated. Strangers have entered the Archipelago."
The Dragon King leaned forward.
"Strangers?" his voice bubbled like boiling water.
"A vampire. A cultivator. And... a girl."
"A girl?"
"She carries the scent of the stars, Your Majesty. And... she cheated at dice."
The Dragon King smiled. It was a terrifying sight.
"The Key," he whispered. "General Lei wants her. But perhaps... I want her more."
He raised a clawed hand.
"Summon the Deep Guard. Let us welcome our guests."
Above, the Iron Banshee sailed on, unaware that the ocean itself was waking up to greet them.