The war council chamber reeked of burnt sage and the metallic tang of fear-sweat. Nine oil lamps - one for each sleepless night of deliberation - cast flickering shadows that danced like restless spirits across the bamboo-slatted walls. Feng Hou's celestial maps covered every available surface, their delicate rice paper edges weighted down by shards of star-iron and the fanged jaws of slain tigers. Some charts showed the recent aberrations in the Great Chariot constellation, others mapped the pulsating waves of dark energy radiating from Mount Buzhou where Chi You's blasphemous forges burned ceaselessly, their smoke staining the very clouds crimson.
Feng Hou's ink-stained finger trembled as it traced a cluster of stars resembling a shattered war chariot. "The armor's invulnerability stems not from the bronze itself," he rasped, his voice raw from days of incantations, "but from the tormented souls bound within." His blackened fingernail - stained from reading too many scorched oracle bones - tapped a series of vermilion marks near the mountain's peak. "Each plate contains at least three screaming spirits - warriors Chi You has personally broken. Their eternal anguish creates vibrations that warp reality itself, deflecting blades and arrows alike."
Jing Wei placed a chunk of sulfur the color of rotten egg yolks beside the maps. The mineral pulsed with eerie bioluminescence, reacting to the malignant spiritual energy depicted on the charts. As she moved, the tiny bronze bells woven into her hair tinkled like distant wind chimes. "The Book of Flames speaks of trapped souls recoiling from purified salt and..." she hesitated, her firebird tattoos rippling across her collarbones, "...virgin fire kindled during the solar eclipse. If we combine-"
"Too gods-damned slow!" Ying Long's fist came down like a meteor strike, making the star-iron shards leap from the table. His obsidian eye gleamed with manic intensity, reflecting the distorted faces of everyone present. The veteran general's scarred torso, barely concealed by bloodstained bandages, bore testament to their enemy's ruthlessness. "By the time your alchemical fires eat through even one suit of armor, Chi You's shamans will have summoned another sandstorm or turned our own shadows against us!" He gestured wildly toward the window where unnatural ochre clouds churned on the horizon. "We need something that strikes faster than their curses can take root!"
The Yellow Emperor had sat motionless throughout the latest argument, his calloused fingers tracing the intricate carvings of the jade cong at his waist. The ritual object had grown increasingly warm in recent days, its inner veins now glowing like captured lightning beneath the translucent stone. As the debate reached its crescendo, his hand suddenly stilled. A profound silence fell over the chamber, so complete that the popping of the oil lamps sounded like distant thunderclaps. All eyes turned to him as shadows gathered unnaturally in the hollows of his face.
"The Kui Drum."
The words hung in the air like an executioner's blade. Even the flames seemed to freeze momentarily, their light dimming as if in reverence. Feng Hou's star-chart cloak billowed though no window stood open, its embroidered constellations shifting position of their own accord. "The one-legged demon beast of the Eastern Sea," he whispered hoarsely, his breath frosting despite the chamber's warmth. "Its hide hasn't been seen since Nuwa mended the heavens after the Great Flood."
Jing Wei's eyes ignited with sudden understanding. She reached into her medicine pouch, withdrawing a cluster of salt crystals that had formed naturally in fractal soundwave patterns. As she rotated the crystalline structure, prismatic light danced across the war table, briefly revealing ghostly impressions of screaming faces in the woodgrain. "The Kui's skin resonates with the voice of creation itself," she murmured, her voice taking on an otherworldly harmonic. "And if we line the drum with these salt resonators..."
"Salt to disrupt the spirit bindings," the Emperor finished, rising from his seat with the creak of ancient leather. His shadow, cast by the guttering lamps, momentarily took the shape of a five-clawed dragon with eyes of burning jade. "Thunder to shatter the armor's unholy harmonics. And the voice of heaven itself to drown out their profane magic."
Ying Long's grin split his face like a battle-axe wound, revealing teeth filed to points after the old Xirong barbarian custom. "Then we hunt one monster to slay another." His remaining organic eye glittered with bloodlust. "I'll assemble the hunting party at once."
As the council dissolved into frantic preparations, no one noticed how the jade cong's glow intensified to near-blinding levels, nor how the Emperor's reflection in the bronze mirror lingered a full three breaths after he turned away. The polished metal surface briefly showed his features transforming - the eyes elongating into vertical slits, the teeth sharpening into fangs - before returning to normal. Somewhere beyond the mortal realm, in the space between heartbeats, the Zhibei beast's prophecy coiled tighter around the loom of fate, its threads singing with tension.
Outside, the first drops of an unseasonal rain began to fall. Where they struck the war-torn earth, the droplets sizzled and popped, leaving behind tiny craters filled with coppery residue that smelled of burnt hair and spoiled honey. Far to the east, beneath the roiling waters of the Eastern Sea, something ancient and terrible stirred in its abyssal slumber, disturbed by the mere mention of its name.