The morning sun climbed higher, its pale gold rays filtering through the massive ice dome that sheltered them, scattering prismatic patterns across the floor like scattered jewels. One by one, the smaller spirit beasts began to stir—first the twin moon rabbits, their noses twitching as they woke, then the fiery-furred marmot, stretching with a squeak.

  Their eyes immediately went to Snow.

  The great wolf lay curled near the fire, his breathing deep and even, his coat no longer dull but gleaming faintly under the morning light. The change was subtle but unmistakable—the spark of life had returned to him.

  A chorus of happy chirps and chitters rose as the smaller beasts scampered over. The rabbits nuzzled against Snow's paws, their soft fur brushing his ice-claws, while the marmot clambered onto his back, nestling into the thick fur between his shoulders. One particularly bold fox kit—barely larger than Yinying—darted forward and licked Snow's muzzle, earning a tired but affectionate lick in return before the wolf exhaled deeply and settled back into rest.

  He was far from fully recovered, but for the first time in days, he looked alive again.

  Kai watched from the fire, stirring a pot of hearty soup, his expression softening. He had already resolved to share a small portion of his qi with Snow each day—just enough to sustain the wolf’s recovery without draining himself. It would be a slow process, but now, for the first time, he was certain it would work.

  A rustle of furs drew his attention. Lu Bu sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes before his gaze landed on Snow. His face lit up.

  "Uncle Kai!" he whispered, as if afraid to disturb the wolf's rest. "He's... he's better?"

  Kai nodded, unable to suppress a small smile. "His condition's finally improving."

  Lu Bu scrambled to his feet, his usual composure forgotten in his excitement. "That's amazing news!" he said, beaming.

  "What about the drunkard?" Kai asked.

  They both turned toward Gin.

  The cultivator was sprawled across his sleeping furs like a starfish, one arm flung over his face, the other dangling off the side. At some point in the night, he had kicked off the blanket Lu Bu had carefully draped over him, leaving him exposed to the morning chill—not that he seemed to notice. A thin trail of drool glistened on his cheek, and his mouth hung slightly open, emitting soft, uneven snores.

  Kai sighed, picking up a waterskin. "Here," he said, tossing it to Lu Bu. "Pour some of this on his face."

  Lu Bu caught it, then hesitated. "...Uncle Kai, that seems a little cruel."

  Kai snorted. "If I wanted to be cruel, I'd have one of the beasts piss on him." He jabbed the spoon toward Gin. "I need him awake. Something's not right with him, and I'm not waiting until noon to find out what."

  Lu Bu grimaced but uncorked the waterskin, before tipping it over Gin's face.

  The reaction was immediate.

  Gin bolted upright with a strangled gasp, flailing like a man drowning. "WHAT IN THE TEN THOUSAND POISONED HELLS—"

  The smaller spirit beasts scattered, chittering in alarm. Snow cracked one eye open, unimpressed, before sighing and tucking his nose back under his tail.

  Kai crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as a drawn blade. "Good. You're up." He jerked his chin toward the jar of wine sitting near Gin’s belongings—the same one the drunkard had pushed on him the night before. "Now let’s talk."

  His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, the kind that made even the drowsy spirit beasts pause mid-yawn to glance warily between the two men.

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  Kai pointed at the jar. "What’s your deal? Why are you so desperate to give this to me? Did you steal it and need to get rid of it before someone comes looking?"

  Gin groaned, dragging his hands down his face as if trying to physically wipe away his hangover. His skin had a sickly pallor, and his boisterous energy from yesterday dampened beneath the weight of self-inflicted misery. Still, at the accusation, his head snapped up, eyes flashing with indignation.

  "That’s exactly what I told you—it was a gift! A gesture of friendship!" He clutched his chest dramatically. "And I didn’t steal it, you suspicious bastard. I made it. Brewed and fermented it myself for years."

  Kai’s eyebrow arched. He didn’t need to be an alchemist to sense the potency of the ingredients—there were traces of spirit herbs in that wine rare enough to make even sect elders hesitate before wasting them on mere liquor.

  "You expect me to believe someone would just give something like that away?" Kai’s tone was flat. "That wine’s packed with enough qi-rich ingredients to fund a small village for years."

  Gin opened his mouth, then hesitated. A flicker of panic crossed his face before he muttered, "...It’s not like that was my only jar."

  The second the words left his lips, he froze. His eyes widened in horror, as he’d just revealed something he shouldn’t have.

  "No—" Gin scrambled forward, hands raised in desperate supplication. "Please, I beg you—don’t steal my wine! I need it! This isn’t some joke, I swear—if I don’t drink, I’ll die!"

  For a long moment, Kai just studied him. Then, with a slow exhale, he uncrossed his arms and made a placating gesture. "Calm down. I’m not going to steal from you. But, I want answers."

  Gin sagged in relief, but the tension didn’t fully leave his shoulders.

  "Fine," Gin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it’s a long story. And if I tell you…" He hesitated, then met Kai’s gaze with a mixture of hope and desperation. "Can I travel with you? Just for a while. As far north as you’re going."

  Kai’s lips twitched. "Ah. There it is. That’s what you were after—safe passage."

  Gin exhaled, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yeah. That’s what I need." He glanced at the surrounding spirit beasts, their glowing eyes watching him with eerie intelligence. "Look, I can’t defend myself properly unless I’m drunk—thanks to this damn Drunken Master physique. And once the battle’s over, I’m out cold. Easy pickings for bandits or worse." He spread his hands. "But if I’m with you? No need to rely on liquor. And it’s not just for my sake—there’s safety in numbers, right?"

  Kai arched a brow, unimpressed. "Yeah. And I’m the one with the numbers." He gestured at the sea of spirit beasts surrounding them. Crossing his arms, he studied Gin—the man was scruffy, worn thin by hardship, but his eyes burned with something Kai recognized but couldn’t name.

  For a moment, silence stretched between them.

  Though Kai’s face remained impassive, something about Gin’s plea tugged at him. The man hadn’t threatened him or his group. His condition—being forced to rely on intoxication just to fight—was more tragic than deceptive. Years of living in the cutthroat world of cultivation screamed at Kai to walk away, to trust no one. But he was trying to leave that life behind.

  He let out a slow breath.

  "Fine," Kai relented. "For the jar of wine, you can tag along." He still intended to take the potent brew—its qi-infused properties could be a lifesaver in the qi wastes of Zan. "But one wrong move—one hint you’re a threat to me, Lu Bu, or the beasts—and you’re on your own. Understood?"

  Gin’s face lit up. Without hesitation, he raised a hand, pressing two fingers to his temple in the traditional oath gesture. "I swear before the heavens, on my very cultivation, that I mean no harm to anyone in this group."

  Kai’s eyes narrowed. It sounded like a Heaven-Binding Oath—the kind that could cripple a cultivator’s progress if broken. But Gin’s cultivation was too weak for the oath to truly take hold. Still, the weight behind his words carried an unexpected sincerity.

  "Alright, my name is Kai by the way," Kai said at last. "But you should know—we’re heading far north. The very edge of Zan, where the land’s still habitable. If you had somewhere specific in mind—"

  "Perfect!" Gin blurted, relief flooding his voice. "More than perfect. I need to get as far from the cultivation world as possible."

  Kai studied him for a long moment. "I’m guessing there’s a story behind that."

  Gin’s grin faded. He rubbed his face, suddenly weary. "Oh, yeah. Where do I even begin…?" His voice trailed off, eyes distant, as if staring into memories he’d rather forget.