Drakon aimed at a large courtyard and landed. In the moment he flew over the monolithic bronze wall of Whisperwind, a light flashed like a meteor. Upon closer inspection, it was a young man about the same age as Drakon, riding a sword and flying away swiftly. Their eyes met involuntarily, exchanging a smile instead of a greeting.
"Where did Snow Dingshan go?" Drakon wondered, then gently touched down. Before him stood a temple built of aged wood, grand and majestic—the Guardian Pagoda.
The temple courtyard was dominated by two towering cylindrical stone pillars with sharp, curved tips. Beyond them, nine steps led up to the sacred hall. The pagoda glowed with a warm yellow light, illuminated by countless flickering candles dancing in the wind, while the pure scent of incense filled the air.
*Bong… Bong…* A temple bell rang, its resonant waves echoing.
The mysterious sound that stirred his heart came from the pinnacle of the Guardian Temple. The colossal bell, inlaid with glimmering gold and adorned with intricate Buddhist reliefs, hung from a massive black iron bar. One end of the bar was gripped by a dragon's jaws, the other by a turtle—both creatures clinging to the pillars of the pagoda, as immense as celestial columns.
"Why is the Infernal Lock ringing at noon? It usually only sounds at dawn and dusk," BlackFang remarked, turning to Drakon.
"Greetings, you two!" A man emerged slowly from the temple, hands clasped together, clutching a rosary. His face was kind, his eyes calm and smiling.
"Hello, Monk. I've visited a few times but never met you. May I ask your name?" Drakon returned the gesture respectfully.
"I am a disciple of this monastery. I was away recently, attending to important matters," the monk replied serenely.
"I see—that explains it!" Drakon laughed.
"What kind of important work, Master?" BlackFang inquired.
"What's with that tone, BlackFang?" Drakon shot him a glare.
"Just curious!" BlackFang retorted, his expression comically defensive.
"It's alright. I was sent to subdue a demon in the western village," the monk answered cheerfully.
"I see. May I ask your honorable name for easier address?" Drakon continued.
"Call me Proud Heaven. Please, come inside and let's talk," the monk offered.
"Of course," Drakon and BlackFang replied in unison, following Proud Heaven into the Guardian Pagoda.
The grand hall was lined with statues of Bodhisattvas and Arhats, dominated by the towering figure of Shakyamuni Buddha at the center. After offering incense, they took their seats.
"Honored Monk, I've come because a great flood approaches Whisperwind. I fear for the villagers' safety and wish to help," Drakon explained urgently.
"Your concern is appreciated. My fellow disciples have already informed me," Proud Heaven acknowledged.
"Where are the others? How far along are the preparations?" Drakon pressed.
"They arrived last night and immediately took positions at the four gates of Citadel Monastery. I oversee the central area—this temple itself."
"The bell you heard is a summons for the villagers. In emergencies, it rings without pause."
"The Guardian Pagoda is the highest point in Whisperwind, with over a thousand rooms and provisions for a year. If the worst comes, everyone will gather here," Proud Heaven assured.
"That's a relief," Drakon said, his tension easing slightly.
*Bong… Bong…* The bell tolled again, this time incessantly.
"The flood must be near. But why does the Infernal Lock sound so strange? This resonance only occurs when demonic energy agitates it."
Proud Heaven rose and ascended to the upper floors of the temple, his movements light as a breeze. In moments, he reached the summit where the great bell hung. Despite his gentle demeanor, his aura revealed a monk of profound enlightenment and formidable power.
"Let's follow, BlackFang," Drakon said, mounting his sword and soaring upward with his companion.
From this vantage, the sheer size of the bell was staggering—dwarfing the figures standing before it.
*"Up!"* Proud Heaven lifted the colossal bell effortlessly with one hand, leaving Drakon and BlackFang in awe.
"Do you see anything?" Proud Heaven asked.
"A golden aura pulses with dharma energy, but what does it mean?" BlackFang asked, perplexed.
"A powerful demonic force surrounds us," Proud Heaven stated gravely.
"The monk speaks truth. I sense it too—a familiar energy," Drakon confirmed.
A heavy silence fell as their gazes turned toward the horizon. From the temple's peak, the approaching disaster was unmistakable: a towering flood, its waters churning white and black, surged dangerously close.
In the distance, at Whisperwind's four gates, four flares shot into the sky—their explosions unmistakable even from afar.