Zhao Kuan was seized before he could take another step.
Heavy restraints snapped shut around his wrists and wings, suppressing his power completely. No matter how violently he struggled, it was useless.
"Zhao Kuan," an elder announced coldly, "you are charged with attempted murder and betrayal of the clan."
He laughed even as they dragged him away.
"Lock me up if you want," Zhao Kuan sneered. "It won't bring him back."
They took him to the mountain's underbelly—a forbidden cave carved deep into the stone, where only criminals and traitors were imprisoned. The cave gates slammed shut with a thunderous echo, sealing him in darkness.
But his laughter lingered.
Back at the cliff, Feng Lihan stood unmoving, staring into the abyss below.
Alive or dead—he refused to accept the answer without seeing it himself.
He turned sharply to the gathered warriors.
"Everyone who can still fly," Feng Lihan commanded, voice hoarse but unyielding, "come with me."
The clan members hesitated.
"We're going down," he continued. "Right now. We search until we find him."
No one dared to refuse.
One by one, wings unfurled.
The air filled with the sound of feathers slicing through wind as dozens of warriors leapt from the cliff—not falling, but descending, riding the currents downward in tight formation.
The mountain loomed around them, vast and merciless.
They landed on the lower slopes far beneath the cliff, boots striking stone and soil. Broken branches lay scattered everywhere—clear signs of a violent fall.
Feng Lihan moved first.
His eyes scanned every trace: crushed leaves, blood-darkened bark, shattered rock.
"Lin Yue…" he whispered.
His chest tightened painfully.
"Spread out," he ordered. "Search every ravine, every ledge. He couldn't have vanished."
The warriors scattered, calling out, combing the mountainside inch by inch.
Above them, the wind howled.
Below them, the forest swallowed sound.
Another side...
Just before Lin Yue's body could crash against the jagged rock below—
Something wrapped around him
A powerful tail—smooth, cold, and unyielding—coiled tightly around his waist.
The impact never came.
His body slammed once—hard—against a protruding stone, pain exploding through his ribs as the breath was knocked from his lungs, blood spilling from his lips.
But he didn't fall any further.
Someone had caught him.
His fingers twitched, brushing against rough ground. The movement sent a sharp jolt through his ribs, and he bit back a groan. He tried to open his eyes, but his vision swam, darkness bleeding into light and back again.
In the blur, he saw something move.
Not a face.
Not wings.
A faint glimmer slid across his field of vision—smooth, overlapping shapes catching what little light filtered through the ravine. They reflected dully, like wet metal or polished stone.
Scales.
Snake scales.
Lin Yue's breath hitched.
They were large, far larger than any ordinary serpent's, each one edged with a pale, silvery line. They disappeared just as quickly, coiling out of sight, leaving only the memory of their cold sheen behind.
Was I… hallucinating?
He couldn't tell.
The tail tightened instantly, holding him suspended in midair, stopping his descent completely.
A sharp hiss echoed through the ravine, low and dangerous.
"Careless," a voice muttered above him. "Another second, and you'd be paste."
Lin Yue's vision blurred as the world spun.
Feathers brushed his cheek—or was it scales?
Before he could understand what had saved him, darkness swallowed him whole.