After six days of traveling westward from the southern shore of Poyang Lake, on the twelfth day of the seventh month, the clouds crossed the Gan River.
On the twenty-eighth day of the seventh month, the clouds passed Zhuzhou, ascended Mount Jiulang, and looked north toward Tanzhou and south toward Mount Heng.
Tanzhou was bustling with life, the Xiang River flowing through the city, while the southern peaks of Mount Heng stood like swords pointing toward the heavens.
On the fifteenth day of the eighth month, the clouds reached Baoqing, where they watched the sea of clouds rise under the bright moon from the peak of Mount Lang.
On the eighth day of the ninth month, the clouds arrived in Wugang.
Standing to the west of Wugang County, the clouds were faced with an endless stretch of green mountains, their origins and ends unknown.
These nameless mountains lay at the intersection of Sanxiang, Nanhuang, and Miaojiang, covered in dense vegetation and ancient trees shrouded in mist.
Having traveled through mountains and rivers, choosing only the wildest and most remote paths, the clouds had left Poyang Lake when the lotus flowers were in bloom.
Now, with the fragrance of osmanthus in the air, after two months of roughing it, they had finally arrived here.
The clouds glanced back at the Sanxiang plains before resolutely entering the mountains.
After two days of trekking through the mountains, the clouds came to a valley where a stream, two zhang wide, crossed their path.
The stream was clear, its waters babbling over smooth, egg-shaped stones.
Small, dark fish darted away as the clouds approached the bank.
The clouds crouched down, intending to wash their face, but noticed that the young man in the reflection now had a faint, soft beard on his chin.
Counting the days, the clouds realized that their birthday was just over ten days away.
Before the age of ten, the clouds had celebrated their birthday with their parents.
From eleven to fourteen, they had celebrated with their neighbors.
At fifteen, they had forgotten their birthday while meditating on Mount Sanqing.
Now, at sixteen, they were deep in the southwestern mountains.
Suddenly, the clouds felt no urge to continue their journey and decided to find a village to rest in.
Where there is flowing water, there is often smoke from cooking fires.
Following the stream upstream for about twenty li, the clouds spotted a small village.
They had never seen such a village before.
The village was built on the eastern slope of the valley, with houses backed against the mountain and supported by wooden stilts, hanging in the air.
The houses were built one after another along the mountain, connected by many ladders, creating a network of pathways.
The tiles on the roofs, damp from the mist, were covered in moss, making the houses look like ivy clinging to the mountainside.
On the opposite slope, there were fields, golden in the September sun.
But these fields were unlike any the clouds had seen before, terraced and carved into the mountain, much like the village itself.
From a distance, the village looked like layers of green ivy, while the terraced fields resembled stacks of golden phoenix tree leaves, with a babbling stream flowing through, singing a light mountain song.
The sight left the clouds speechless.
In the vast mountains, this scene was as awe-inspiring as the first time they had seen the boundless expanse of Poyang Lake.
Thinking for a moment, the clouds tucked their sword, "Autumn Water," into a stone crevice and took out a bundle from the same crevice, slinging it over their back.
Disguising themselves as an ordinary Daoist, they slowly approached the village, casually catching two plump mountain hares along the way.
Before they could get close to the village, the barking of dogs broke the silence.
After a few barks, seven or eight large white dogs gathered at the village entrance, barking fiercely at the clouds.
The clouds dared not approach and stood waiting.
The barking disrupted the village's tranquility, and soon many people emerged, all dressed similarly in indigo-blue clothing.
Some men working in the fields, hearing the dogs and seeing a stranger at the village entrance, also began to return.
The villagers stood silently, watching the clouds, while the white dogs continued to bark.
"Good people, I am a wandering Daoist. I hope to stay the night. I have two rabbits and some copper coins to offer," the clouds called out loudly.
No one spoke, only staring at them, while the dogs kept barking.
Unfamiliar with such a situation, the clouds felt a chill and considered leaving.
Suddenly, a rooster's crow cut through the dogs' barking.
A large rooster with a red comb, golden claws, and colorful feathers had appeared on the roof of a house, crowing loudly and drawing everyone's attention.
The dogs whimpered and stopped barking.
The rooster looked at the clouds, who felt that the bird was quite perceptive, as if it were truly sizing them up.
After a long crow, the rooster flew down from the roof and quickly disappeared into the village.
The village seemed to come alive.
People began to approach the clouds, their faces filled with warm smiles, though their chatter was incomprehensible.
"Little Daoist."
A voice speaking in the southern official dialect caught the clouds' attention.
They turned to see a short, dark, but lean and strong old man with a black cloth wrapped around his head, his temples and the back of his head bald, with a few strands of white hair.
"Old man, do you speak the official dialect?"
The old man grinned, revealing few teeth.
"Little Daoist, this old man can understand you and speak a bit of the official dialect. In my youth, I even visited Zhuzhou!"
The clouds smiled and bowed.
"Greetings, old man. I am a Daoist from the east, traveling far and wide. Today, I wish to rest in your village. I hope you can accommodate me."
The clouds lifted the rabbits in their hands.
The old man nodded with a smile.
"Guests from afar are always honored. The Miao village never turns away visitors."
The old man took the clouds' hand and led them into the village, while a few children took the rabbits.
"Old man, what just happened?"
The clouds couldn't help but ask, as the earlier situation had been quite strange.
The old man chuckled.
"The White Dragons are our guards. If anything suspicious approaches the village, they are the first to know."
He pointed to the white dogs at their feet.
The clouds looked at the dogs, their fur glossy and white as jade, surprisingly clean for living in such a remote valley.
These dogs had round heads, fierce eyes, sharp teeth, and a menacing appearance, but their muzzles were broad and short, with red noses, mouths, and eye rims.
Their limbs were strong, chests deep, and tails held high, wagging constantly.
They looked quite adorable now, nothing like the terrifying barkers from before.
The clouds smiled and reached out to pet one of the dogs.
The dog didn't shy away but stretched its neck toward the clouds, who scratched it a couple of times, making the dog whimper in pleasure.
"White Dragons," the clouds thought.
A bold and peculiar name indeed.
"But the White Dragons have sharp ears but can't tell good from bad. That's why the villagers were hesitant to speak to you at first, fearing you might be a lost soul," the old man explained.
"The Red Crown Elder, however, can discern good from evil. So when he crowed, we knew you weren't a thief, a demon, or a ghost, and we welcomed you in."
The clouds were curious.
"The Red Crown Elder...?"
They pointed to where the rooster had been.
The old man nodded.
"The Red Crown Elder's long crow told us you are a noble guest, one who brings light to our village."
Chapter 2 is here.
Please vote and recommend! Comments and feedback are welcome!
(End of Chapter)