Chapter 29

Fi Yan knew what she was doing was wrong.

She knew, and she did it anyway.

She had to see what was going on.

So she slipped out of the sect building and away from her mother’s distracted gaze. That part wasn’t hard. There were people standing outside the doors, weapons in hand, watching the streets for beasts. She crept behind a man and a woman and smirked to herself.

She was getting good at this.

She darted, quick across the yard, then down a side alley behind the grain stores. Her breath fogged in the cold afternoon air. The moment she rounded the corner, though, she stopped dead.

And the smirk vanished from her face.

It was chaos.

Beasts were everywhere, throwing themselves at the barricades in droves. And the people on the other side of the barricades, people she knew. Every single one.

They were butchers. Farmers. The man who sold sticky rice balls every market day. The woman who used to give her sweets when her mother wasn’t looking.

Now they stood behind shields and weapons, faces drawn, knuckles white, stabbing and slashing with wide, terrified eyes.

For a moment, she actually felt sorry for the beasts as she watched their blades and arrows sink into them.

Then one of them, a huge, feline thing with long claws and a mouth full of teeth vaulted over the barricade.

It landed on Old Man Lu.

Fi Yan flinched. She’d known Old Man Lu since forever. He used to grumble at her for being loud and always told her to stop running in the shrine.

He screamed now.

A horrible, high-pitched noise that split the air sharper than any howl.

Louder than that stupid boy Han Haturo whenever their adventures turned scary. Louder than anything.

The beast latched onto his face and tore.

Blood sprayed in great arcs, painting the crates and stones. Fi Yan collapsed onto her backside with a soft gasp, frozen in place. Her hands hit the ground, trying to pull her up but her legs wouldn’t move.

She couldn’t stop staring.

The beast was ripping him apart. Old Man Lu was flailing, twitching—and then he wasn’t.

A blur moved through the smoke.

It was Wei Lin. He didn’t look like the quiet farmer she used to see in the rice fields. He looked… bigger. Stronger. Sharper somehow.

And his eyes—

She didn’t know if she was more afraid of him or the beasts.

Wei Lin struck without hesitation. He drove his sabre into the side of the beast’s neck, blood fountaining from the wound. It let out a gurgling yowl before he kicked it in the chest, sending it flying off Old Man Lu, he glanced down once, and his scowl deepened.

Old Man Lu didn’t move.

Without a word, Wei Lin turned and vanished back into the chaos, sabre already rising to meet the next threat.

Fi Yan’s breath came back all at once. She scrambled to her feet, heart hammering in her chest.

Stupid.

So stupid.

She bolted down the alley, legs pumping harder than they ever had before. Screaming echoed around her, growing louder by the second. Smoke choked the sky. One of the herb stalls was on fire—how had that happened? The air stank of blood and ash and something else, something worse.

More beasts poured through gaps in the barricade, leaping into the fray, raking claws into skin and dragging villagers down beneath them. Screams rose again, raw and real and everywhere.

This wasn’t the same scared she felt when they turned the lanterns off at night.

This was worse.

This was the worst by far.

Fi Yan ran faster than her little feet had ever carried her.

She didn’t make it far.

Something snarled behind her—a low, guttural sound that made the hairs on her neck stand up.

Fi Yan glanced back and nearly tripped.

Something was following her. One of the big ones.

It was the size of a large dog. Its legs were long, and its mouth stretched too wide, revealing sharp teeth. Its striped fur stood out in the evening sun.

It was sniffing the ground where she’d just been.

Then it looked up.

Right at her.

She bolted.

Her feet slapped the packed earth, sandals slipping from her toes. She didn’t stop to get them. She didn’t even feel the stones cutting into her soles.

She turned corners blindly, hoping she would lose it. She ran past the side of the baker’s shop, past a burning cart, through a half-broken fence.

But the thing was faster.

She could hear it leaping behind her, landing heavy, crashing into barrels and crates as it closed in on her.

Fi Yan’s breath came in sharp gasps. Her chest burned. She turned again and found herself in the narrow alley behind the blacksmith’s house.

It was a dead end. She knew it was a dead end. Why did she turn down here!

She stopped too fast and stumbled to her knees, hands scraping the stone. She turned just in time to see the beast slip into the alley.

It dropped low and crawled forward slowly.

Deliberately.

It made a low sound in its throat that didn’t sound like any animal she’d ever heard.

“Help!” she shouted, voice cracking. “Someone—please! Help me!”

No one came.

There was to much already happening. To much noise. No one could hear her.

She backed up until her shoulders hit the wall.

⸻

I opened my eyes and noticed the world was different.

Distant shouting flooded my ears, hoarse cries, the guttural snarls of beasts. It was overwhelming. Every noise scraped across my mind with crystal clarity, like I’d been deaf until this very moment.

My clothes clung to me, soaked with sweat and blood, the scent metallic and sour. I stood slowly, joints cracking, skin flushed with residual heat. My system still flickered in the corner of my vision, bursting with notifications.

I ignored it. I could deal with that later.

I reached for my sabre, the weight of it familiar now, almost comforting. My broken dagger still rested in its sheath at my hip. I gave it a quick check then turned toward the door.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, smells hit me in waves.

Smoke. Ash. Herbs. Blood.

It choked the air, a cloying mix that made my nose burn and my stomach twist. But I could smell all of it. Every thread. It was almost too much for my new senses to bear. I had to close my eyes for a heartbeat just to focus, before moving towards the front door.

It was gone.

In its place, a ragged hole had been blasted through the frame, the edges charred and splintered. A cold wind blew through it, curling against my skin like a warning.

I stepped outside.

Beasts tore through the village like a tide of fur and fang, smashing through hastily built barricades and dragging people into the dirt. Screams filled the air, cutting through the afternoon like blades through flesh. Fires burned in broken carts. Roofs caved in. Blood soaked the street in dark puddles.

Fighting spilled across every open space.

And I could hear it all.

Every time a blade struck flesh. Every cry of pain. Every wet gasp as someone fell. Every whimper of a dying beast. The soundscape painted a picture in my mind more vivid than anything I’d ever known.

My eyes snapped toward movement down a narrow street, just past a row of shattered herb stalls.

A small shape. Darting between crates.

No.

No, no, no.

That wasn’t possible.

Why the hell would she be out here?

My blood surged, rising hot and wild beneath my skin.

Whether it was from my cultivation technique or raw anger, I couldn’t tell. Maybe both. But I didn’t hesitate.

I pushed my Qi into motion, down the paths carved into my body, the ones my newfound knowledge had revealed.

My meridians.

Power flooded my limbs, fast and violent.

And I moved.

I launched forward, feet pounding the ground in a blur, the world narrowing to a single point.

———

Fi Yan hit the wall hard. Her back scraped against the stone as she tried to shrink into it, but there was nowhere else to go.

The feline creature stalked forward, silent but tense, its shoulders rolling like a hunting cat. Its striped hide shimmered in the firelight, thick muscles bunching beneath it. Its eyes gleamed with that cruel sort of hunger animals wore just before they pounced.

She swallowed and lifted her chin, though her voice barely worked.

“N—nice kitty,” she whispered.

It growled in response, deep and sharp. The sound sank into her bones like a warning.

“Pleeease…” she whimpered. “I don’t want to die. I still have so many adventures to go on.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, unbidden. Her knees trembled. The thing crouched, tail flicking once, twice.

Then it lunged.

She screamed and shut her eyes.

A thundercrack exploded through the alley.

The growl turned into a high-pitched yowl, followed by a heavy, wet crunch. When she dared to open her eyes, the beast was no longer in the air, it was slammed into the alley wall, a knife buried so deep in its shoulder she’d almost missed it.

Fi blinked.

She looked back down the alley… and saw him.

A figure stood there, arm still outstretched from the throw. For a second, he just stared at his hand, like even he didn’t believe what he’d just done.

Fang Wu.

His dark hair was still shoulder-length, still matted and wild. His face was the same, tired, sharp and his eyes still sad. She knew that look well. She saw those same eyes when see looked into the waters reflection.

But something was different. She couldn’t explain it.

It wasn’t the way he looked.

It was the feeling.

The air around him felt heavy. Dense. The way it had when that robed cultivator from the Fallen Mist Sect passed through their village and hurt Old Man Lu.

Fang Wu’s eyes found hers, and for just a second, he nodded.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice quiet but firm.

She smiled through her tears. “Yes. Thank you, Big Brother Fang. I thought I was dead.”

He pulled his sabre free from his side and pointed it at the beast, which was already starting to twitch.

“You still could be,” he said. “Move. Now.”

She didn’t argue. She sprinted down the alley and threw herself at him just as the creature began to rise, one paw lifting protectively over its wounded shoulder.

“It’s not dead…” she whispered.

Fang Wu placed a steady hand between her pigtails and gently nudged her behind him.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, eyes locked on the beast. “After tonight, you’ll be able to add this to the list of your made-up stories.”

“They’re not made-up,” she huffed automatically.

But she was smiling.

Everything would be okay now.

She knew it.