By the time the sun dipped behind the mountain ridges, panic had spread through the hawk clan like wildfire.
They searched everywhere.
Every ravine.
Every broken ledge.
Every place a body might have fallen.
"Over there—check again!"
"No scent!"
"Nothing… nothing at all!"
Feng Lihan moved faster than anyone.
Blood stained his palms where his claws had dug into stone again and again. His wings were half-spread, feathers ruffled, eyes burning as he scanned the endless depths below.
He refused to believe it.
"He's here," Feng Lihan said hoarsely. "Search again."
The clan members exchanged uneasy glances. Even the elders had arrived now, their expressions grim.
As dusk deepened, the air grew cold.
Finally, one of the senior clan members stepped forward, voice low but firm.
"Four-Star Warrior," he said gently, "it's getting dark."
Feng Lihan didn't turn.
"I know," he replied.
"We understand your worry," the elder continued. "But nightfall makes searching dangerous. Go home. Rest. At first light tomorrow, we'll search again—together."
Silence.
The wind howled through the cliffs like a mourning cry.
Feng Lihan's fists clenched.
For a moment, everyone thought he might refuse.
Then, slowly, his wings folded.
"…Tomorrow," he said, each word heavy. "At dawn."
Reluctantly, the clan withdrew.
But Feng Lihan lingered long after they were gone, staring into the darkness until the mountain swallowed the last trace of light.
Somewhere deep below—
Lin Yue slept.
The pain finally dragged him into unconsciousness, heavy and merciless. His body curled instinctively against the cold stone, breaths shallow, uneven.
When he woke again, the fire had dimmed.
And Mo Shen was gone.
Lin Yue's heart lurched.
"Mo… Shen?"
No answer.
The cave was silent.
He tried to move—and hissed sharply.
His clothes.
They were torn.
The fabric that had once covered his chest and legs was shredded, ruined from the fall and dried blood. Cold air brushed against his skin, sending a shiver through him.
Embarrassment and fear tangled in his chest.
Before panic could fully take hold, his fingers brushed something unfamiliar.
Smooth.
Cool.
Flexible—yet strong.
Lin Yue looked down.
He was wearing new clothes.
Not cloth.
Not fur.
Dark, fitted garments wrapped perfectly around his body, soft on the inside, firm on the outside—like living armor. They carried a faint sheen, catching the firelight in subtle patterns.
Snake scales.
His breath caught.
Mo Shen's scent lingered on them—cool stone, smoke, something dangerous and steady.
"You—" Lin Yue whispered, stunned.
A voice answered from the shadows.
"I couldn't let you wake exposed."
Mo Shen stepped out from behind a rock formation, eyes scanning Lin Yue with sharp focus.
"Your clothes were beyond repair," he continued calmly. "So I used my shed skin. It adjusts to your body temperature. It won't restrict your injuries."
Lin Yue stared at him, cheeks heating.
"You… made clothes for me?"
Mo Shen shrugged lightly. "Snake skin is wasted if unused."
"…That's not the point," Lin Yue muttered.
Mo Shen's gaze lingered a second longer than necessary—just long enough for something unreadable to pass through his eyes.
"They suit you," he said.
Lin Yue looked away, heart pounding far too fast.
Outside, night fully claimed the mountain.
Above, Feng Lihan sat awake, staring into darkness, refusing sleep.
Below, wrapped in the skin of a snake clan exile, Lin Yue realized something unsettling—
Mo Shen hadn't just saved his life.
He was marking his presence in it.
And whatever this protection was becoming…
It was no longer temporary.