The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,157

Chaghan’s question brought back memories of Arlong, of rare moments of vulnerability and harsh words she regretted. They made her feel. And she didn’t want to feel.

She forced her voice to keep level. “When we need our gods, we call them. But Nezha never sought the dragon. He told me he encountered one when he was young, but when he spoke about it, he made it sound . . . real.”

“All gods are real.”

“Real on this plane,” she clarified. “In the material world. He said that when he was a child, he wandered into an underwater grotto and met a dragon, which killed his brother and claimed him—whatever that means. He made it sound like his god walks this earth.”

“I see.” Chaghan rubbed his chin. “Yes. That’s what I thought.”

“But—that’s—can they do that?”

“It’s not inconceivable. There are pockets of this world where the boundary between our world and the world of spirit is thinner.” Chaghan pressed his palms together to demonstrate. “Mount Tianshan is one. The Speerly Temple is another. The Nine Curves Grotto is a third. That cave is the source of all Nezha’s power.

“The Yins have been linked to the Dragon for a long time. The waters of Arlong are old, and those cliffs are powerful with their history of the dead. Magic flows smoothly through those waters. Have you ever wondered how Arlong is so rich, so lush, even when its surrounding provinces are barren? A divine power has protected the region for centuries.”

“But how—”

“You’ve been to the Dead Island. You see how nothing grows there. Have you ever wondered why?”

“I thought—I mean, wasn’t that just Mugenese chemical warfare? Didn’t they just poison it?”

Chaghan shook his head. “That’s not all. The Phoenix’s aura pulses through the island, just like water pulses through Arlong.”

“So then the Dragon . . .”

“The Dragon. If you can call it that.” Chaghan made a disgusted face. “More like a poor enchanted creature that might have once been a lobster, starfish, or dolphin. It must have swum in the web of the true Dragon’s magic and unwittingly become a physical manifestation of the ocean, whose desire is to—”

“To destroy?”

“No. The Phoenix’s impulse is to destroy. The ocean wishes to drown, to possess. The treasures of all great civilizations have inevitably fallen into its dark depths, and the Dragon yearns to possess them all. It likes to collect beautiful things.”

The way he said it made Rin cringe. “And it’s collecting Nezha.”

“That’s a nice euphemism for it. But the word is too tame. The Dragon doesn’t just want to collect Nezha like he’s some priceless vase or painting. It wants to own him, body and soul.”

Bile rose up in Rin’s throat as she recalled the way Nezha had shuddered when he spoke of the Dragon.

What did I do to him?

For the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for pushing Nezha to the edge, for calling him a coward for refusing to invoke the power that might have saved them.

Back then she’d thought Nezha was just acting spoiled and selfish. She’d never understood how he could loathe his gifts so much when they were so clearly useful. She’d hated him for calling them both abominations.

She’d never taken a moment to consider that unlike her, he hadn’t chosen his pain as tribute. He couldn’t derive satisfaction from it like she could, because for him, it wasn’t the necessary price of a way out. For him, it was only torture.

“He’s drawn to that creature,” Chaghan said. “And he’s drawn to that place. He’s physically anchored. It is the source of all his power.”

Rin took a deep breath. Focus on what matters. “That doesn’t tell me how to kill him.”

“But it tells you where to strike,” Chaghan said. “If you want to end Nezha, you’ll have to go to the source.”

She understood. “I have to take Arlong.”

“You must destroy Arlong,” he agreed. “Otherwise the water will keep healing him. It’ll keep protecting him. And you should know by now that when you leave your enemies alive, wars don’t end.”

Chapter 24

The next morning, Rin stepped out of Cholang’s hut to discover a crowd of people so vast she couldn’t see where it ended.

Kitay had sent out a call summoning volunteers the night before, specifying soldiers older than fifteen but younger than twenty-five. Rin wanted recruits around her age. She needed their rage to be all-consuming and untempered; she needed soldiers who would throw their souls into the void without the cautious timidity she’d grown to associate with men