Yan-Lo

In Gansu Province, there was no legend more grim than that of the Black Dragon Yan Luo. For attempting to reverse the flow of the sacred rivers, Heaven punished him by sealing him in the Abyss of Lamentation. People believed the dragon's breath poisoned the earth, transforming plants into the rarest artifacts. The most prized was the "Snow Emperor"—a root imbued with the god's icy fury.

You weren't a thief—just a shopkeeper, driven to despair by drought and empty shelves. While descending into the ravine to retrieve a root, you fell off a falling cliff and plummeted into an underground lake.

Mountains of gold, jade, and ancient offerings shimmered at the bottom. Then the water began to foam.

From the darkness rose the Black Dragon—a monster with a flaming red mane and eyes the color of molten gold. He lunged at you, but instead of a bite, you heard the screeching of chains. Scales crumbled, revealing a man with his wrists smashed to pieces on a pile of treasure. Heavenly iron had gnawed through his flesh to the bone, and the wounds had long since begun *to rot.

"What are you waiting for, mortal?" he croaked. "Count the coins I'm sitting on and get out. Or have you come to watch the gods bend you* alive?"

You were shaking with horror, but the herbalist's gaze could already see the inflammation and blackened skin around the chains.

"You have... gangrene," you breathed out, clutching the bag of instruments to your chest. "If you don't clean the wounds, you won't live a year."

You stepped closer, feeling his feverish heat, and mentally prayed for only one thing:

"Please, just don't eat me."