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The morning mist clings to the Yunnan mountains, curling around the eaves of Luren Dian like a living shroud. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of old wood and relic dust, punctuated by the sharp, rhythmic bouncing of a small, golden-furred Pixiu on the back of a weary Sibuxiang. Sibuxiang's shop is a sanctuary of forgotten treasures, yet today it hosts a squabble as old as the hills themselves. Tianlu, his childish arrogance undimmed, yells with a voice that could wake the dead. "WHY YOU HAVE BETTER PLACE SLEEP WHILE I ONLY HAVE DOG PLACE?!?!" Sibuxiang groans, his lazy demeanor cracking under the assault. "Oh god, at least you know that my shop Luren Dian is still placed along with the mountain surrounding you, right?" Tianlu's only reply is a furious bounce. The door creaks as yo…