“Definitely!” said Wang Zhuo with staunch assurance.

Su Yi thought for a moment, then said, “Do you have paper and a brush on you?”

Wang Zhuo immediately took both from his bag of holding and handed them over.

With a few sweeping strokes of the brush, Su Yi wrote a letter and sealed it. He then placed the snail-shell-shaped whistle to his lips and blew.

Weng!

A bizarre rhythm rang out, passing through the curtain and rain and reaching into the skies above.

Mere moments later, a Swiftlight Sparrow shot toward them. Its feathers were a faint gray, and it looked like a small hawk. Its eyes were jade-green, and its sharp claws were bright red.

Su Yi tossed it the note he’d just written, and the bird grabbed it, then disappeared back into the sky in a flash.

Su Yi turned to look at Wang Zhuo. “You can leave.”

It seemed Wang Zhuo found this hard to believe. “Young Lord Su, are you sure you want to let me go?”

All Su Yi said in response was, “You’d best consider your next steps.”

He then carried his umbrella off into the distance. 

The rain gradually faded, and mist permeated the mountains. Before long, there was no trace of Su Yi.

Wang Zhuo watched in...