He fell silent, weighing his reply; he rarely spoke without calculation. “In the Mortal Realm, there once lived a king,” he said at last. “A great conqueror, a shrewd politician, a brave warrior—who was afraid of nothing in the world but his death. After he had vanquished all his enemies, he spent the rest of his days seeking the Elixir of Immortality.”

He spoke with the rhythmic cadences of a storyteller, drawing me in against my will. “This king, so courageous, was so terrified of death that he built an army to protect him in the afterlife. For decades, countless workers toiled to craft thousands of clay soldiers. Each was molded and shaped from yellow clay, carved with their own distinct features, fired in the kilns, then painted and glazed. The perfect army, who would awaken to defend their monarch against all enemies, even in the afterlife.”

“What use is an army of clay against death?” A shudder ran through me as I imagined all that suffering to satisfy one man’s boundless arrogance and futile fear.

Wugang tucked his chin between his fingers. “Ah, you speak as a lofty immortal who never had to dread such things.”

“I have faced death.” Our eyes locked, an itch crawling across the scars on my chest. After all, it was he who had incited the emperor to attack me.

“Not the same way. All mortals—peasant, warrior, or king—are born knowing a single, inexorable truth. That no matter how glorious or pathetic their existence, they will die. Whether through illness, war, or accident is of no consequence, for the end is the same.”

He continued in that condescending manner as though this were a lesson, one I had not asked for. I let him speak. Wugang was so closemouthed; this was a rare opportunity to unpick the twisted workings of his mind, to uncover any weakness we might exploit.

“For your kind, death is not inevitable. It’s a choice, a gamble, the path you set on. I thank the mortal king for his vision. For inspiring … this.” His arms spread wide to encompass the soldiers. “There were darker rumors, too, that the emperor’s own soldiers were entombed alive within those shells of clay. Who would ever know? The tomb is long lost. I am no monster. I sought not the living to build my army, but the spirits of the deceased.” An avid light shone in his eyes. “A pity you did not yield the dragons’ pearls to the former Celestial Emperor. They would have made a remarkable addition to my army, after they met their end in his service.”

I went cold inside. My hand involuntarily strayed to my pouch, to the Long Dragon’s scale, but I pulled it back. I would not expose the dragons to Wugang’s sinister schemes.