“General, shall we enter?” Luo Teng asked, his voice low.
Li Shuang’s expression darkened. “Cover your mouths and noses. We’ll investigate.”
At her command, the soldiers tore strips of cloth to veil their faces. Luo Teng lit a torch, its flame casting long shadows against the stone, and descended cautiously, each footstep echoing through the stairwell.
The passageway plunged deeper than expected—twenty feet at least—with no hint of natural light. Only the flicker of fire pierced the suffocating dark. The deeper they went, the thicker the stench became: rot, blood, and damp earth mingled into a putrid miasma. Seasoned as they were, even veterans of war furrowed their brows.
At last they reached the chamber below—thirty feet long, a hundred wide. The sight waiting within froze them in place.
An iron-barred cell dominated the room, its gate twisted open as though torn by a beast. Dried blood blackened the stone floor. Corpses lay scattered in grotesque disarray—some half-decomposed, others reduced to pale, brittle bones. It was impossible to count the dead.
Luo Teng began to step forward, but Li Shuang caught his arm. Her voice was a whisper edged with steel. “Wait. Something’s moving.”
From the shadows beyond the torchlight, a pair of eyes gleamed—feral, green, unblinking. A low growl rumbled.
When the soldiers raised their torches, the scene leapt into hideous clarity: a pack of wolves crouched over corpses, gnawing bones slick with rot. The wet crunch of teeth on marrow filled the chamber. Luo Teng gagged.
Li Shuang’s gaze swept the pack, sharp as a drawn blade. She stooped, flicked a stone, and struck the alpha’s nose. The beast yelped and bolted, tail tucked, the others scattering after it through a tunnel on the far side.
“Disgusting…” Luo Teng spat into the dirt. “To feast on that filth—are they even beasts anymore?”
They pressed deeper into the cell. The moment Li Shuang lifted the torch toward the center, a sudden gust of air swept past—foul and cold, thick with decay.
“General, look out!”
A shadow lunged from the darkness. Li Shuang thrust the torch forward just in time, blocking the strike.
The figure’s tangled black hair veiled its face. Its tattered clothes hung loosely over a body trembling with unnatural strength.
“The scent…” a rasping voice croaked. “Ah… his scent…”
It was a woman’s voice—old, cracked, and full of hunger. With one wild sweep she knocked the torch from Li Shuang’s hands. It struck the iron bars, rolled, and landed guttering on the ground. By its uncertain glow, her face came into view.
Wrinkled skin stretched over hollow cheeks. Blood and grime clung to every crease. Spots of decay marred her flesh, yet her clothing still glittered with remnants of fine jewels.
Li Shuang’s mind raced. Who was this woman? How had she hidden here, unseen? What martial strength allowed her such ferocity?
The old woman gave no pause for thought. She struck again, clawed hands darting for Li Shuang’s throat. Steel rang as Li Shuang parried and twisted aside.
But the chamber was darkening. The torch sputtered, its light shrinking. Li Shuang’s movements slowed, sight failing her. The old woman, however, prowled with unnatural ease—eyes glinting, steps unerring.
Li Shuang’s thought was cold and sharp: I can’t defeat her here.
Before the thought fully formed, a sword flashed. Luo Teng’s blade drove clean through the woman’s waist.
Her body jerked, movements halting. Li Shuang seized the chance, kicking her back and shouting, “Up! Out!”
They surged for the stairs.
Daylight struck them like salvation. Fresh air banished the reek from their lungs. But their relief was fleeting.
The old woman burst from the stairwell, her blackened eyes locking on Li Shuang. She ignored the others, lunging with predatory speed. Guards intercepted her, blades flashing. Steel bit flesh—but no blood came.
“Where is he?” Her voice was a guttural shriek. “Hand him over! Give him to me!”
Luo Teng’s face paled. “What kind of fiend is this? My sword pierced her, yet she fights as though untouched!”
The woman’s eyes rolled, entirely black now, animalistic. She paused suddenly, nostrils flaring.
“I smell it…” she whispered.
Then she whirled, bounding toward the forest with inhuman speed.
Li Shuang’s eyes narrowed. “After her!”
They gave chase, bodies flickering through the trees with lightness skill, but the old woman left them far behind. When they broke through the treeline, the neigh of a horse rang sharp. Ahead, she was already astride one of their mounts, galloping straight for Changfeng Camp.
“Damn it—!” Li Shuang spurred her horse. She ordered one soldier to remain behind while she and the others raced after.
By the time they reached the camp’s outskirts, chaos was already spilling out. Soldiers shouted, weapons drawn.
Li Shuang’s worst suspicion hardened. The fiend had stormed the camp. And if her scent-tracking words were true… her goal was Jin’an.
She drove her horse through the gates.
Inside, soldiers had surrounded the ragged woman, but she moved with relentless intent, sniffing the air, muttering, “Where are you? Where are you?”
“General!” Qin Lan ran up, breathless. “General, she—”
“I know.” Li Shuang cut him off. “Where is Jin’an?”
Before Qin Lan could answer, the old woman’s head snapped around. Her cracked lips stretched into a grotesque smile. “I’ve found you.”
The tent curtain tore.
A boy stood in the doorway.
Jin’an.
The woman’s smile widened, hideous and triumphant. She reached for his throat. For an instant, Jin’an froze—but Li Shuang’s sharp cry, “Jin’an!” snapped him free.
His eyes cleared. At the last moment he flipped back, her grip grazing empty air. A powerful kick struck her chest, driving her back three paces.
The camp fell into stunned silence.
The old woman roared, lunging again, her claws tearing the tent apart. Jin’an met her blow for blow, the clash of child and crone unfolding in deadly earnest. Soldiers gawked; generals paled. None had imagined the frail boy could unleash such speed, such power.
Luo Teng muttered hoarsely at Li Shuang’s side. “Heavens… this brat might’ve killed me after all…”
Li Shuang’s face remained carved from stone. “Bring my bow.”
As Jin’an fought, Li Shuang studied the fiend’s every movement. Blades had cut her flesh; steel had pierced her body; none had slowed her. But when Jin’an’s kick struck her chest—only then had she faltered.
The heart.
She raised her bow, breath steady, eyes fixed. When the old woman grappled Jin’an mid-air, her back exposed, Li Shuang loosed the arrow.
It struck true.
But the shaft lodged between her bones, failing to pierce the heart.
The old woman’s body twisted, grotesque, as she yanked the arrow free. Her clouded eyes locked on Li Shuang. With a hiss, she hurled the shaft at Jin’an, who flipped onto a rooftop to dodge.
“You stole what is mine,” she rasped.
Then her form blurred.
Before the soldiers’ eyes could follow, Li Shuang was ripped from horseback, her throat crushed beneath a single clawed hand.
Gasps erupted. Blades rose. But all eyes turned at once—
—to Jin’an.
From the rooftop, his pupils narrowed to slits. The mark on his chest ignited, crawling up his neck, across his face. His eyes blazed red, burning like flame.
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