Feiyin’s mind worked rapidly, his seretched to their limits as he analyzed the chaotic se. He had to find more people—ones who weren’t pletely ed by fear, ones who could still think, act, and survive.

  Ren, standing beside him, was quiet. His crimson eyes swept across the panic with indifference. He wasn’t ed about the others. He wasn’t looking to save anyone. He had no reason to.

  But he had chosen to follow Feiyin.

  That alone was enough for now.

  Before Feiyin could decide who to approaext, a sound slithered into his awareness—an eerie, rhythmic rustling, like scales scraping against stone.

  He turned sharply, his body tensing just as the first scream tore through the cave.

  Then another.

  Then chaos erupted.

  "Shere are snakes!" someone shrieked.

  A wave of movement rippled through the cavern as long, sinuous bodies slithered out of a tuheir dark forms barely visible in the dim light, their forked tongues flig as they locked onto their scattered prey.

  Feiyin’s blood ran cold.

  Poisonous cave vipers.

  Their venom paralyzed before it killed. And they didn’t hunt alone.

  More slithered out—dozens of them, then hundreds.

  The cave desded into madness.

  Children ran blindly in all dires, their terror overriding any sense of reason.

  Some tripped in the darkness, falling into the vipers’ waiting fangs.

  Others were bitten mid-run, their bodies log up before they colpsed to the ground, twitg helplessly.

  It was a sughter.

  Feiyin’s heart pounded as he tried to assess the situation.

  "Stay together! Regroup behind me!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

  But no one listened.

  Panic had taken full hold.

  They weren’t thinking anymore—only running, only screaming.

  Feiyin cursed under his breath. Damn it! His father had been right—trying to talk seo a panicked mob ointless unless he had the strength to make them listen.

  Before he could react further, something small tugged at his sleeve.

  Feiyin gnced down.

  A little girl—no older tha—stared up at him with wide, golden feline eyes.

  A lykin.

  Her ears were pi against her head, her tail bristling in terror, but she didn’t run.

  She stayed.

  She had listened.

  Feiyin ched his jaw. Fine. If I ’t save them all, I’ll protect who I .

  "Stay close," he told her firmly. "Don't run off."

  Ren watched the chaos unfold with an unreadable expression. "You're not gonna fight them all, are you?" he asked dryly.

  Feiyin exhaled sharply. "Not all of them. Just enough to give us a way out."

  Ren shrugged. "Your call."

  Feiyin didn’t waste time. He moved.

  The first viper lu him, fangs bared.

  He struck before it could reach him, his fist colliding with its skull in a siing crack. The body thrashed once befoing limp.

  But there were more.

  Aruck from the side.

  Feiyin pivoted, driving his foot into its body with a sharp kick. It smmed against the cave wall, hissing weakly befoing still.

  Then—three more lu once.

  Feiyin’s hands a moved in precise, trolled bursts, every strike fueled by i. He crushed skulls, snapped spines, sent bodies flying.

  He fought with the force of thousands of kilograms behind his blows.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  No matter how fast he moved, more just kept ing.

  And all the while, more children ran blindly, making themselves easier targets.

  Feiyin’s breath came faster as the realization hit him.

  He couldn’t save them all.

  A sharp pang filled his chest. It hurt—more than he expected.

  But he knew what had to be done.

  He took a step back, pg himself betweehe lynx girl, and the chaos.

  "We're leaving," he said, voice firm.

  Ren tilted his head. "Giving up already?" There was no judgment in his tone. Just mild curiosity.

  Feiyin ched his jaw. "I 't win here. If I keep fighting, they'll just keep ing. I o protect what I ."

  Ren studied him for a long moment before shrugging. "Alright."

  Feiyin turo the lynx girl. " you run?"

  She nodded rapidly, her small hands tightening around his sleeve.

  "The's go."

  Without another word, Feiyihem toward the tunnels.

  As they ran, the sounds of screaming and hissing followed them.

  The st of blood and poison g to the air.

  The osciltions of fear, of pain, of death—they surrounded him.

  His fists tightehis is what my father meant…

  Leading wasn’t about fighting until you dropped.

  It was about choosing who to proted living with the weight of that choice.

  Even if it hurt.

  Even if it burned.

  He forced himself forward.

  He would protect what he could.

  And he would make sure that at least some of them survived.

  Feiyihem through the winding tunnels, his steps careful, his seretched to their limit. The darkness was suffog, a vast abyss where sight was meaningless, but he wasn’t relying on his eyes. His inner sense flickered outward, sing for disturbances, searg for osciltions that signaled danger.

  The sound of dripping water echoed faintly in the distahe air damp and stale. The further they moved, the quieter it became. The chaos of the main cavern faded behind them, repced by an eerie stillness.

  Eventually, Feiyin slowed.

  Here… there was nothing.

  No movement, no vibrations, no hiddeures lurkih the surface.

  Just emptiness.

  It was the closest thing to safety they could hope for.

  "This should be good," Feiyin murmured, exhaling as he finally let himself rex. He turo his panions, barely able to make out their silhouettes ich bck. "We rest here."

  The lynx girl colpsed onto the cold ground with a sigh, her tail flig with exhaustion. "Finally..." she mumbled.

  Ren simply leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, his usual expression unreadable.

  Now that they were safe, even temporarily, the tension that had been holding them together seemed to loosen.

  Feiyin sat down, feeling the weight of everythile onto his shoulders. His muscles ached, his hands were still sticky with snake blood, and exhaustion g his bones. But there was something else too—something heavier. Something pressing down on his chest that he refused to aowledge.

  Not yet.

  Instead, he g the lynx girl.

  "We never asked your name," he said.

  She perked up slightly at that, her golden eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness. "It's Yue."

  Feiyin nodded. "I'm Feiyin, and this is Ren."

  Ren made a vague noise of aowledgment, which Feiyin supposed was the best they’d get.

  Yue sat up a little straighter. "Where are you from?" she asked, her voice cautious, as if she was still trying to decide whether to trust them.

  Feiyiated. His vilge felt… far away now. Like a memory that was already slipping through his fingers. He swallowed hard before answering. "A small vilge called Pine Vilge, near Red Moon City."

  Yue’s ears twitched. "That’s far. I lived he southern border, in a town called Luan."

  Ren, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Slums of Iron Fang City."

  Yue flinched slightly. "That’s... a rough pce," she murmured.

  Ren shrugged, his tone as detached as ever. "It is what it is."

  Feiyin studied them both, realizing just how different their lives had been. Three strangers, from three pletely different parts of the kingdom, thrown together in this nightmare.

  They psed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Finally, Feiyin cleared his throat. "We should take turns keeping watch. I'll go first."

  Ren g him. "I don't mind taking first watch."

  Feiyin shook his head. "I ime to think."

  Ren didn’t argue. He simply id down, hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. Yue curled up against the stone wall, her tail ing around her body as she tried to find some sembnce of fort.

  Within miheir breathing evened out.

  Feiyin was aloh his thoughts.

  The moment the sileruly settled in, everything he had been holding back came crashing down.

  He ched his fists, his body trembling as he bit the inside of his cheek. His breath came out unsteady, ragged.

  Are they still alive?

  His father.

  His mother.

  The vilge.

  Did any of them survive?

  Or had he already lost everything?

  He had no way of knowing.

  No way of going back.

  No way of doing anything.

  Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them. His chest ached, his throat burned, but he refused to sob.

  He wouldn’t wake them.

  He wouldn’t let them hear.

  So he cried in silence, his shoulders shaking as the grief swallowed him whole.

  For his parents.

  For his vilge.

  For himself.

  The darkness pressed in around him, suffog and vast.

  But he couldn't afford to break.

  Not yet.

  Not ever.