The air below the koi pond was damp and close, smelling faintly of moss and metal. Each step Li Wei took down the narrow stairway echoed softly, tak… tak… tak, as if the stones remembered older feet. The light of the spirit pearl glimmered faintly against the walls, revealing carvings of cranes and serpents entwined in eternal conflict.
The deeper he went, the quieter the world became. Even the rain above seemed to vanish, replaced by a pulse—a rhythm like a slumbering heart within the earth itself.
~Thum… thum… thum…~
At last, the stairs opened into a cavernous hall. The ceiling arched high overhead, its beams fashioned from dark cedar lacquered to a mirror sheen. Ancient runes lined the pillars, their meanings long forgotten by mortal tongues. In the center, an iron gate barred the way forward, marked with the sigil of the Council—twin dragons devouring one another's tails.
