Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang

We were supposed to travel directly from Yunnan to Qinghai through Xizang, but that route was impossible.

To the north of the Tengchong Volcano, where we had been, lay towering mountain ranges and high-altitude terrain stretching endlessly. Some peaks remained snow-capped even in summer. That mountain, called Yulong Snow Mountain in my past life—some referred to it as the “Alps of the East”—was also located somewhere in this vicinity.

Though my children were indeed mystical beings, they would likely struggle to endure such extreme cold, so we had no choice but to alter our course. Even the reinforcements from the Beast Palace hadn’t considered this route. The mountains were far too treacherous, making passage impossible.

For this reason, we boarded our ship once more and followed the Yangtze River upstream, then turned onto one of its tributaries, the Yalong River. Since the Yalong River originated in Qinghai, traveling upstream along it would eventually bring us to our destination.

Thus, ten days passed as we traveled along the Yangtze and its largest tributary, the Yalong River. As we ascended the river, approaching the border between Qinghai and Sichuan, something occurred.

—Rumble.

The water from the upper reaches, thick with mud and foam, crashed against the side of the boat, its current growing increasingly fierce. Yet, miraculously, the boat continued to advance, even if only little by little.

However, not long after, the slow but steady progress came to an abrupt halt.

The water flowing from upstream was far too violent. No matter what we tried, the boat refused to move forward any further.

The boatman, who had been observing the upper reaches beyond the deck, suddenly shouted.

“So-ryong! Could you check on the tow crew?”

“Understood!”

The "tow crew" referred to those who pulled boats upstream along the Yangtze’s fast-moving currents. They typically used small boats to row ahead and pull the larger vessel, or they would drag it along the riverbanks using ropes.

Ordinarily, this was a job performed by the locals living along the river.

But in our case, the ones acting as the tow crew were rather unique—because it wasn’t people doing the pulling, but rather Cho, Bini, and Yo-hwa.

‘Are those guys okay? Why on earth did they insist on doing this?’

I had never intended for them to take on this task. My precious children—pulling an actual boat, not a mere toy? If they got hurt or exhausted, that would be an absolute disaster.

I had outright refused at first.

But after the human tow workers collapsed from exhaustion, the kids had volunteered, saying they wanted to give it a try.

And, to my surprise, they were far better than dozens of people combined.

Thus, they had been pulling the boat for several days now.

But the river current here must have been too strong—this seemed to be their limit.

I turned my gaze toward where Cho, Bini, and Yo-hwa were struggling.

Cho floated in the sky, while Bini and Yo-hwa clung to the cliffs, straining with all their might.

The three of them had bound themselves with Yo-hwa’s silk thread, desperately trying to pull the boat forward. But no matter how hard they tried, the vessel remained motionless against the roaring current.

Even with their help, this was as far as we could go.

I turned toward the boatman and shouted.

“Does it look like we can’t go any further?”

“That’s right! From here on, you’ll have to disembark and continue on foot! You can tell the tow crew to stop now!”

“Understood! Prepare to dock!”