You carry a basket of snow plums from the grove, returning to the village through the Xin Pass. Overhead the menacing visage of Xin, defeated more than 300 years ago, roars silently. Frozen. You shiver and press on under the shadow of the once mighty dragon and a voice whispers on the wind. Vengeance...will be mine. Your village....will burn. You look up at Xin and you can make out a faint mist escaping it's maw, as if it were breathing. You begin to run back to the village.
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