The moist air curled thinly between the trees, its grip loosening as what little light seeped through the canopy hinted at another morning—perhaps the third, though in this place, days bled together.

  For two days they had crept through the forest’s veins, moving only when the light was dim and the beasts less active, hiding in narrow caves or beneath the shelter of tangled roots when the sky began to darken.

  The Duskroot Wilds’ inner region revealed itself in fragments: glimpses of colossal trees strangled by vines, patches of luminous moss glowing faintly under the canopy, the glint of unseen creatures slipping through the undergrowth. The air smelled of wet bark and something metallic, as though every breath fed the forest’s hunger.

  Lian stirred from sleep, her breath hitching as she took in the world around her. With the morning mist clearing, the forest looked different—less like a dream, more like a nightmare that refused to end.

  The trees rose like black pillars into the dim sky, their branches weaving so thick they seemed to trap the light. Somewhere nearby, an insect clicked rhythmically before falling silent, leaving only the sound of her own breathing.

  A few paces away, Xiao Lei crouched low, scanning the ground. His movements were deliberate, almost animal-like, as he traced faint claw marks and swept them away with leaves. Each sweep of the leaves felt like erasing his own shadow. In this place, even traces could become a predator’s path to him.

  Dried streaks of mud and blood marked his clothes, the early light catching on his worn edges and making him look as if he had risen from the forest itself.

  He glanced back once, expression unreadable, before smearing crushed herbs along the path, the bitter scent masking their presence.

  Lian hugged her knees, shivering against the chill. When Xiao Lei returned, she looked up at him, eyes wide and wet.

  “I… I don’t want to go,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, fragile against the oppressive silence. “It’s scary here. I want to wait until Grandpa comes. He’ll come, right?”

  Xiao Lei’s gaze rested on her, steady and cold.

  “He’s not coming.” His voice was flat, final.

  She shook her head, tears brimming. “Then I don’t want to move. I’m tired. I’m—”

  “Stay here then,” he said, voice calm and detached. “Something will eat you before the sun’s high.”

  Her lips trembled. For a heartbeat, she stayed where she was, clutching her knees so tightly her knuckles whitened. She glanced back, as if hoping the old man might step out of the shadows. The forest answered with only a distant cry, sharp enough to slice through the silence.

  Sniffling, she wiped her face and stood, shoulders hunched. Without another word, Xiao Lei turned and began walking. After a pause, she followed, her small steps quick to match his.

  They moved through twisted paths where the roots knotted like serpents beneath their feet. Every few steps, Xiao Lei stopped to erase their tracks or crouched to crush more herbs, smearing the pungent oils across stones and bark.

  The sharp scent clung to them, drowning out the human smell predators hunted for. He stayed downwind of claw marks and droppings, his senses stretched to the edges of the forest.

  The air thickened as they pressed deeper. Distant roars rolled through the trees like storms, and strange, high-pitched cries sliced the silence before fading. Sometimes the quiet pressed against their ears, thick as cloth.

  Lian clutched the hem of his sleeve whenever the cries came too close, but Xiao Lei’s breathing stayed steady, his steps measured. Fear gnawed at the edges of his mind, but he buried it, letting only focus remain.

  Above them, the branches swayed though no wind stirred. The inner Wilds were awake, and every step they took was under its quiet watch.

  Suddenly, he stooped. Xiao Lei halted so abruptly that Lian, clinging to the edge of his sleeve, bumped into his back. “Ow…” she whimpered, rubbing her nose, but he didn’t even flinch.

  The forest around them had fallen still. Morning light struggled through the tangled canopy, filtering down in sickly shafts that barely touched the ground. No insects hummed here, no birds dared to call—only the faint rustle of leaves, like a whisper before a storm.

  Xiao Lei’s posture sharpened. His gaze fixed on the dense thicket ahead, every muscle coiled tight.

  A low, guttural growl rolled through the air. It came not as a sudden cry but as a slow vibration, heavy enough to make the earth seem to tremble. From the shadows, it emerged.

  A Shadowmaw Panther.

  Its body was sleek and long, fur the colour of deep ash streaked with faint, silvery lines that shimmered faintly as it moved. Muscles rippled beneath its hide, each step silent yet filled with deadly power. Its eyes—slits of molten amber—locked onto them, unblinking. When it opened its mouth, Xiao Lei caught the gleam of curved fangs, wet with saliva that hissed where it touched the ground.

  Xiao Lei’s jaw tightened. He had faced one like this before and barely escaped with his life. His fingers curled, knuckles whitening as he stepped slightly forward, putting himself between Lian and the approaching threat.

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  Lian finally saw it. Her breath hitched; her small body trembled as she ducked behind him, clutching his sleeve with both hands. The scent of the beast’s breath—hot, metallic, foul—washed over them.

  “Stay back,” Xiao Lei said, his voice low, steady, but his pulse hammered in his ears.

  The Shadowmaw Panther crouched low, its tail sweeping the ground with an eerie rhythm. Then it lunged.

  Qi flared from Xiao Lei’s body, sharp and turbulent, as he met the charge head-on. The impact rang through his bones. His clawed glove slashed across the beast’s flank, leaving shallow cuts that barely bled. The creature roared, a sound that raked at his chest like talons, and swung a massive paw.

  Xiao Lei twisted aside, but not fast enough—razor claws tore across his shirt, carving burning lines into his flesh. He bit back a cry and rolled, forcing himself to his feet. Every step he took was precise, his movements controlled despite the pain.

  The Shadowmaw slipped back into the thicket, its glowing lines flickering between the shadows, circling, testing for an opening before bursting forward again, and Xiao Lei rolled aside, the beast’s claws ripping through a tree trunk, sending splinters flying.

  He ducked under a hanging vine, using it to swing himself sideways and slash at its flank. Roots twisted underfoot; one nearly caught his ankle, and the beast’s paw missed his head by inches, shredding bark instead.

  Again, he darted in, his strikes fuelled by grit rather than strength. Each blow left only faint marks on the panther’s hide. It retaliated with savage swipes, forcing him back, bruising and cutting until his breath came ragged.

  Twice the beast’s eyes snapped to Lian. It lunged toward her with terrifying speed. Both times Xiao Lei intercepted, slamming himself into its path, taking the brunt of the attack to push it away. The second time, the effort nearly drove him to his knees. Blood streamed down his side, staining the ground beneath him.

  His vision blurred at the edges. His Qi flickered, dimming. The glove on his hand dripped red, its fangs cracked from repeated impacts.

  He knew he couldn’t win like this.

  The only hope was to summon his Echo and unleash the Shattered Howl. But doing so would drain everything. If it failed, both he and the girl would die here.

  The Shadowmaw Panther growled, crouched low, tail lashing. Its amber eyes burned brighter as it prepared to pounce again.

  Xiao Lei’s own gaze hardened. Then, without warning, he pivoted sharply and sprinted into the opposite direction.

  Lian froze. “B–Big Brother?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  She stood rooted to the spot, wide-eyed, as his figure vanished between the trees. The beast’s head turned toward her, muscles coiling, its breath steaming in the cold morning air.

  For a heartbeat, she thought he had abandoned her—just like his cold words earlier, “Stay here then.” Her grandfather’s voice echoed in her head, telling her how much he loved her. But the shadows pressed close, and the beast’s snarl drowned out everything except fear.

  Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. She wanted to run, to scream, but her legs refused to move. The world closed in, filled only with the pounding of her heart and the panther’s growl inching closer.

  The Shadowmaw Panther’s head swung once toward the trees where Xiao Lei had vanished, nostrils flaring as it searched for threat. Finding none, it turned back to the small figure standing alone.

  Lian stood frozen, every breath trapped in her chest. The world around her blurred, narrowed to the slow, stalking movements of the predator. Each step it took pressed the air heavier, like an unseen hand closing around her throat.

  The panther’s amber eyes gleamed as it crept closer, each clawed paw whispering against the earth. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the low rasp of the beast’s breathing and the faint hitch of her own. Its head lowered, jaws parting, and she caught a glimpse of fangs slick with saliva. The smell of blood and musk filled her nose, dizzying.

  Tears streaked her cheeks. She wanted to call for her grandfather, for anyone, but no sound came.

  The panther drew back its head, muscles bunching for the final lunge.

  Then the air tore open with a sound unlike anything the forest had ever birthed.

  It was a howl—part wolf, part something far more ancient. The cry cut through the trees like a blade of ice, twisting with an echo that did not belong to this world. It resonated in bone, in blood, in soul. The beast recoiled, its body jerking as if struck by an unseen force, eyes wide with sudden fear.

  Lian collapsed where she stood, the cry shaking her fragile senses. Darkness closed around her, and she fainted.

  Before the beast could recover, an arrow hissed through the air, whistling with deadly intent. It buried itself deep into the panther’s eye with a wet crunch, and the creature screamed, thrashing. Another arrow followed, striking its other eye.

  Blind now, the predator thrashed wildly, crashing into trees, tearing at the earth as its roars shredded the silence. Splinters rained down, vines snapped, and the forest seemed to recoil from its frenzy.

  The echo of the howl did not fade; instead, it shaped itself, coalescing into something that stepped out of the shimmer between worlds into existence—a colossal wolf, its form both real and spectral. Shadow and light wove through its body, its fur rippling like smoke under faint sunlight. Its presence radiated a pressure that suffocated the air itself, an oppressive force that bent the panther’s will even in its blindness.

  Through that oppressive veil, Xiao Lei appeared.

  His figure was battered, blood trailing from open wounds, yet his movements cut through the chaos—sharp, relentless. He vaulted onto the thrashing beast, each step leaving a crack in the stone. His clawed fist hammered down, smashing into the panther’s skull. Bone cracked under the blows, Qi surging with every strike like lightning through his veins.

  The panther roared, thrashing wildly, its claws gouging deep scars into the earth. One swipe caught Xiao Lei’s side, tearing flesh and spraying blood across the rocks. The impact nearly threw him off, his vision flashing white.

  For an instant, everything hung on a thread.

  The wolf’s spectral form pulsed behind him—its eyes closed, yet cold breath sweeping across the clearing. The panther faltered, muscles quivering under the unnatural chill.

  Xiao Lei gritted his teeth and forced his trembling body upright. With a guttural roar, he blurred forward—Void Step splitting the air—and reappeared before the beast’s staggering retreat.

  He drove his fist down one final time. The impact splintered bone with a sickening crack. The panther shuddered once, its massive frame collapsing into the dirt, still at last.

  Xiao Lei stood swaying, breath ragged, vision swimming. Every muscle burned, and the deep gash at his side throbbed with searing heat. He dropped to one knee, forcing himself up with a snarl.

  There was no time to rest. The metallic scent of blood clung to the air, and already the distant forest stirred with other predators drawn by the fight.

  He dragged himself to where Lian lay, pale and unconscious among the leaves. A single tear clung to her lashes, catching what little light filtered through the canopy before sliding down her cheek. Kneeling, he gathered her into his arms, clutching her small weight against his chest.

  Teeth gritted, he pushed to his feet.

  Step by step, through pain that blurred thought, he moved—each stride fuelled by nothing but the stubborn will to keep going. The mist swallowed their trail, and the oppressive silence returned, broken only by his laboured breaths as they vanished into the depths of the forest.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.