Dance Of The Dragons

A split second before he blew himself along with the pesky little spiders, a deep voice reverberated above the chorus of clicks and rasps, pulling him back from the brink. "Duck."

Driven by an inexplicable trust in the mysterious voice, Qiao Wei dove for cover. A searing lance of flame erupted where he’d stood moments before, bathing the monstrous spiders in its fury. Panic-stricken screeches filled the air, but the blaze pursued relentlessly, consuming the creatures one by one until only smoldering ash remained.

A gritty shroud descended, the air thick with the burnt remains of the spiders. Qiao Wei huddled on the ground, vision obscured, his breath shallow against the fabric of his sleeves. Then, a grip like iron clamped onto his arm, yanking him upwards. He stumbled, disoriented, as the world tilted and a figure emerged from the haze.

"Are you alright?"

Qiao Wei opened his eyes and blinked past the smoke-filled air. He was staring directly at a familiar face. It was him again.

The father of the twins whom he rescued at the bottom of Mount Wu.

Qiao Wei’s breath caught in his throat. What were the odds of their paths crossing in such a desolate place?

Zhang Fengxi narrowed his eyes at Qiao Wei. The latter’s breath hitched as Fengxi’s steely grip loosened. His legs turned to jelly beneath him, threatening to buckle and sending him sprawling to the side.

"Careful."

Zhang Fengxi’s iron grip clamped on Qiao Wei’s shoulders, steadying his position as his gaze flickered to the looming presence of the two gigantic cocoons nearby.