Centuries ago, altars dedicated to Kanghui and the tianlongs covered the landscape. Presently, less than fifty of those holy sites still existed in the Fringe. Those that remained, were simple or downright primitive. Only the most inconspicuous and remote altars had escaped luddite notice.

Or so the greenskins thought.

Unbeknownst to them, there existed an undefiled subterranean temple just twenty miles east of Parabellum. For decades, the zeraphs had went through painstaking lengths to keep its its location secret—only visiting the temple when they had to perform their most sacred rites.

Their discretion was all for naught. Nearly forty years ago, a landslide buried the entrance. Any concerted effort to unseal the site would have drawn luddite attention, so the zeraphs declared it lost.

At least until today.

“Where exactly am I supposed to start digging?” Zhu asked as he surveyed the mounds of snow and rubble around them.

“If you were a true shenlong, you would already know,” Brantus, Shrike’s chieftain, grumbled.

Zhu shrugged. “Like I said earlier, I am not making any claims here. Maybe I am a shenlong or maybe I just look like one. All I know is that I am what I am.”

Initially, Zhu planned on admitting that he was not a long, given that most of the zeraphs were doubters like Brantus. Sarin, however, suggested that they keep things ambiguous. 'Ideas spread', she said, and there was no benefit to quashing the hopes of his few believers.

It sounded clever at the time. Problem was that he and Sarin had never interacted with religious folks before. When he feigned ignorance on the subject, they decided they would get their god to weigh in on the matter and escorted them to the buried site. Shrike, who had urged him to be honest and forthright with her people “accidentally” elbowed his snout several times throughout the trip here.

“There is no need to waste our time with speculation. We’ll get our answer soon enough,” a tall, lithe man named Tyto said. The Aorun chieftain pointed at a clump of ice and dirt on his left. “If memory serves, the main entrance should be under there.”

Zhu nodded. “Pass me a shovel.” There were many murmurs and gasps when Sarin retrieved an arsenal of digging equipment from her pocket dimension.

“Alright. Dargoth and the jumbos will help me move all this crap out of the way. The rest of you keep on guard.”

The zeraph leaders huddled together as the digging operations commenced.

“No good will come of this farce!” Brantus seethed.

Rook, leader of the Qin clan, rolled her eyes. “Why did you come along, if you’re convinced this is folly?”

“What was I meant to do when you decided to bring that abomination here? Just let it defile our last great sanctum?”

“What makes you so certain that he isn’t a shenlong?” Rook asked.

“You heard its voice!”

“It’s odd certainly, but longs often had strange powers.”

“And every long had at least one horn!”

Rook shrugged. “Agedes and Europhon were decried as mutants when they first hatched, but they ended up being one of the greatest dailong warriors ever.”

“Both their heads still had horns though!”

“Do you actually think that he’s a shenlong?” Tyto asked Rook.

“I have my doubts, but I am keeping an open mind. At the very least, we shouldn't be insulting a potential ally right to his face.”

Brantus refused to relent. “You’re both fools for being so trusting of him! Think about it, of all the zeraphs, it is the heretic’s daughter that accompanies him! Nothing good could come of associating with that fake! We should drive them away from the temple!”

“How do you propose we do that?” Tyto scoffed. “If you want to rush to your death, go ahead. Try sticking him with your little spear. I could use a good laugh."

“I would rather die than be complicit with blasphemy!” Brantus declared, though he visibly trembled at the thought of fighting Zhu alone. “We can’t just sit back and allow that thing to defile the temple!”

Rook gave the aging zeraph a hard shove. “And will you be leading the charge, old man? We are not guilty of blasphemy! Is there any difference between a desecrated temple and an abandoned one? We might be taking a risk, but what choice do we have?”

When Brantus continued to rant and rave the other two chieftains turned their back on him. Sputtering, he stomped his way over to his clan mates, hoping to find more sympathetic ears.

To his dismay, the false long’s efficiency was winning some zeraphs over. By the time Raya’s golden eye surrendered the sky to her sister, the digging team cleared a path to the temple—a task that would have taken the entire zeraph population a week to complete.

“That took longer than I thought,” Zhu said, while wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. “Too bad we couldn’t bring a dire badger. Probably would have gotten this done in half the time.” He poked his head into the unearthed entrance. “Hmm, this tunnel is pretty roomy. Wasn’t sure I’d be able to fit in. Still, probably not a good idea for me to go in first in case the path gets tighter. Anyone willing to scout it out for me?”

Brantus indignantly squeezed past him. “You should not set foot within this temple, pretender. If enough of Kanghui’s power remains in this place, he is liable to incinerate your flesh.”

“Good thing I don’t have feet.”

The old zeraph just snarled and stomped down the corridor.

“I apologize on his behalf, archduke,” Rook said nervously. Next to her, Tyto silently gauged Zhu’s reaction, arms crossed.

“It's easier to deal with somebody that openly hates you than somebody that does it quietly,” Zhu said, unperturbed by the old man’s contempt. His eyes flicked towards his followers. “Sarin, Dargoth, I want you two and five zobakas to come with me.” He pointed at a humanoid warmonger. “Zargon, keep an eye on things while we’re gone.”

Emerald flames illuminated the temple’s pitch-black tunnels. Everyone in the party besides Zhu carried a torch smeared with fire wyvern ethanol. As Zhu expected, he had to duck his head or suck in his chest to squeeze past certain bends. He was just glad he never had to resort to crawling. Pungent moss blanketed the floor.

“Our predecessors planted these to keep any adventurous luddites away,” Rook explained, as she wiped tears from her eyes.

When they reached the temple itself, Zhu no longer needed to maintain his hunchback stance. A fifty-foot giant could have walked across the main chamber without fear of bumping his head. Zhu had never seen such opulent architecture. Everything within the room must have been some artist’s magnum opus. Crimson columns bearing winding shenlongs supported the high ceiling. Dozens of life-sized jade zeraphs proudly stood sentinel in the corners of the room. Vivid mosaics depicting hundreds of different scenes covered every inch of the walls, floor, and ceiling.

“Damn,” was all Zhu said as he admired the countless masterpieces. Brantus was the only one unmoved by the temple’s beauty. The curmudgeonly zeraph beelined towards the giant, golden serpent-shaped censure at the end of the room.

“Kanghui’s energy still saturates this place,” he mumbled in relief. His tone grew sharper. “Pretender, place a suitable offering and we’ll see what Kanghui has to say!”

Zhu peered into the serpent’s gaping jaws. “Will ten neanderthal heart stones do?”

“I believe that will suffice,” Tyto answered.

Brantus bristled when Zhu handed the stones over to the younger clan leader. “Alright then, let’s hear it from the big man himself.”

The pseudowyrm resisted the urge to chuckle when Tyto approached the divine censure with dramatic reverence. The zeraph gently deposited the stone into the serpent’s mouth, then knelt and clasped his hands. “Oh, great Kanghui, please answer our prayers! Are the two creatures amongst us truly your descendants, or are they imposters seeking to lead us astray?”

Zhu’s tail rattled when the heart stones crumbled out of existence. Those contractions intensified when a stream of yellow flame poured out of the statue’s maw. Sarin grabbed Zhu’s hand before he could dive for cover.

“Look, the flames are passing through his chest.”

What Zhu thought was an agonized death wail turned out to be loud rejoicing.

“I knew you hadn’t abandoned us!” Tyto exclaimed, his eyes wet and red. His fellow chieftains were also shedding tears of joy.

Bewildered, Zhu whispered in Shrike’s ear, “The hell is going?”

The girl simply pointed upwards. Zhu froze when his eyes landed on the thing that transfixed her. The pillar of golden fire had taken the shape of an immense horned serpent. Hundreds of metallic centipede-like limbs jutted from its body. Its huge glowing white eyes locked onto his.

“Follow him as you would follow me,” the flaming apparition hissed—and just like that—it was gone.

“Kanghui has spoken!” Tyto cried. He and Rook embraced one another while Brantus’ jaw hung open.

After a long bout of jubilant hopping, the two younger chieftains sprinted out of the tunnel. Brantus regarded Zhu sheepishly. “I apologize for what I said to you before, great shenlong.” The chagrined man scurried after his fellow chieftains.

Shrike placed a hand over her beating chest. “That went much better than I dared to hope.”

Zhu flashed her a grin that was equal parts annoyance and amusement. “What a ripoff!”

Shrike blinked. “Pardon?”

“I give the guy ten heart stones and he talks to us for less than seven seconds! That is some next level butt fucking!”

Sarin tried to appease him. “Ten one carat red stones is a small price to pay for the loyalty of several hundred people.”

“Close to a fifth of that number consists of children and the elderly,” Dargoth pointed out.

Shrike eyed Kanghui’s censer nervously. “I think we should discuss this later.”

A celebration broke out by the time Zhu and the others ventured back outside. The human mercenaries, always looking for an excuse to slack off, joined in the festivities. Zeraphs and humans danced, whilst jumbos constructed snowy memorials to commemorate the boulders lost during the skirmish with the luddites.

Zargon hid behind a shantu’s thigh when Sarin’s and Dargoth’s disapproving gazes flicked onto him.

Zeraphs swarmed Zhu before he could bail the warmonger out of his dilemma. Men and women who had watched him with jaded eyes just hours ago were now shoving and elbowing each other so they could speak to him or touch his hand. Zhu brushed the latter types off. “I go by stripper policy; you can look but you can’t touch.”

“Why spurn their affection?” a voice that was more felt than heard rang out. “Is it not a priest’s duty to convey their god’s love for their followers?”

A disfigured shape erupted out of a mound of snow. Children wailed, and more than a few mercenaries puked. The thing kept its limp, distended, neck slung over its right neck, amplifying the horror of its unblinking stare. Ribs protruded from its pallid flesh, yet despite its emaciated state, the thing’s limbs were bloated and lumpy. Worst of all was the carpet of wriggling red worms that poked out of its pus-ridden flesh.

The abomination shambled towards them, giggling madly all the while.

“So many new life forms! So many potential friends!”