Heavy footsteps echoed through the forest, as if something were being dragged along the ground, moving deeper into the trees.
Then came a roar.
Low and rough, it rolled in from far away, only to be broken apart halfway by the trunks and branches. The sound was unhurried, yet it carried a patience that made the skin crawl, as if the hunter had no fear of its prey escaping.
Chun's body trembled softly in the dark.
Wei reached out and pressed his hand over the back of hers. This time, he felt it clearly—her fingers were shaking.
The roaring drew closer.
Then, suddenly, it shifted.
It didn't stop.
It was as if something else had caught its attention. The sound slowly moved away, circling around the patch of forest where they were hiding, heading toward another alarm that rang louder in the distance.
Silence returned to the hollow.
A silence so deep it made them afraid to move.
Wei held his breath, pressing his ear to the packed earth. He could hear two heartbeats, one chasing the other, fast and wild, like a pair of rabbits racing to leap higher.
He gave Chun's hand a gentle pat. Only then did she pull her hand away, a little embarrassed.
Both of them knew the danger wasn't over, yet neither of them looked back.
The path ahead gradually widened.
"We're almost out," Chun whispered, excitement creeping into her voice.
But Wei slowed his steps instead.
The forest seemed to part before them, the light ahead growing brighter and brighter.
Chun let out a quiet breath of relief.
"This place… it feels safe."
"But where's the bridge?" she added.
Wei froze.
He turned around without thinking.
Behind them was nothing but a wall of black forest. The wind had stopped. The insects were silent.
Every sound seemed to have been pressed down by an unseen hand, leaving behind a stillness that felt deeply wrong.
-----------------
The clouds broke apart.
Moonlight poured down, washing over the clearing.
The fire had not gone out. Charred wood lay scattered.
Burned bodies were cooling,
and warriors stood among them, their faces blank and cold.
A skeletal warhorse stood nearby. Its pale frame was almost transparent in the moonlight.
From the cracks in its bones flowed an eerie green flame. The fire moved without sound, licking at the torn remains of iron armor still hanging from its body.
A battered, broken iron plate bore a crest split clean in two, like the last hatred of a forgotten kingdom refusing to fade.
Lin clenched his fists. His heart sank.
The general with the golden armguards did not look angry. There was no urgency in his eyes. Instead, there was a calm, almost cruel focus—
as if he were judging the worth of a weapon.
The fire stretched Lin's shadow long across the ground, pinning it there like a lone nail driven into the edge of the world.
At this moment—
The road was cut off.
The flames were still burning.
But there were no new footsteps.
No sound of someone trying to circle around.
No roar before another charge.
No orders echoing through the forest.
On the far side of the woods, everything went quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that meant they were blocked.
More like—
they no longer needed to chase.
At that moment, the last of Lin's hope faded, like the dying flame before him.
He turned toward the stream—
and saw something that made his heart stop.
The pregnant woman and the child…
were lifted into the air.
A warrior in bronze armguards had appeared from another stretch of forest, slipping through the firelight without a sound. He held the woman and the child in one hand, as if they were two old sacks of cloth.
Only two pale pupils showed in his eyes, and deep within them was something clear—
mockery.
Lin's heart sank like a stone dropped into deep water.
All his plans, all his preparations, every risk he had taken,
now seemed like a joke in front of such an enemy.
The pregnant woman's face was deathly pale, yet she was still cursing.
"If I'd known—! You heartless bastard—! You got us trapped—!"
Lin didn't hear the rest.
The warrior tilted his head slightly.
A soft crack.
Her neck was crushed.
The motion was so light, as if he had snapped his fingers.
Lin closed his eyes. The night wind swept past him, carrying the smell of ash and damp earth. His hand tightened without thinking, then slowly loosened.
Now, the only thing on his mind was his wife.
The moment he sensed things were going wrong, he had sent her away.
But she couldn't stop worrying about Wei. She refused to leave, choosing instead to hide somewhere in the forest.
She said she would only go after seeing Wei.
All Lin wanted now was to find her.
Facing such a terrifying enemy,
he didn't know what he could do.
His thoughts drifted to Wei and Chun.
They should have escaped by now… right?
Wei was bold, almost careless at times. As for Chun—she was kind-hearted, but not always sharp.
He hoped the heavens would protect those two kids.
If he didn't make it back… what would happen to Wei?
Could he live on his own?
Grow up safely in these woods?
Would he run into danger like this again?
If he were cut off halfway, would Wei know to run?
Or would he foolishly turn back?
Lin didn't dare think any further.
Because at the edge of his vision, more warriors were stepping out of the darkness.
They spread out with quiet precision. Their weapons hung low, yet not a trace of carelessness showed.
Lin stood where he was,
like an insect that had struggled—
and still ended up trapped at the center of a spider's web.