Several days had passed since Gin's unexpected arrival, and the temporary sanctuary of their ice dome was beginning to fail. Hairline fractures spiderwebbed across the crystalline walls, and in places, entire sections had collapsed, allowing gusts of wind to knife through the shelter. The structure—once a marvel of Snow's control—had reached its limit, its power spent.

  Kai observed the deterioration with a practiced eye. He had hoped to remain longer, giving Snow time to fully recover after his reckless expenditure of qi. Each night, when neither Lu Bu nor Gin were watching, Kai would press his palm between the wolf's shoulders and transfer another surge of his own qi, bolstering Snow's depleted reserves. But now, with their shelter crumbling around them, staying was no longer an option.

  "We move at dawn," Kai announced, his voice cutting through the chatter of the Beastkin.

  The camp erupted into motion. The smaller creatures—foxes, raccoon-dogs, and bird-like spirits—darted about, gathering scattered supplies with surprising efficiency. The larger Beastkin, understanding the urgency, began shouldering packs or offering their backs as transport for their wounded companion.

  Only Snow resisted.

  The ice-claw wolf, though stabilized, still moved with uncharacteristic weakness, still unsteady on his feet. When Kai suggested he ride atop Ning, the massive quake buffalo, Snow's ears flattened in defiance. He bared his fangs—not in aggression, but in pride—and took a shaky step forward, determined to walk on his own.

  "Stubborn fool," Kai muttered, though there was no real heat in the words. He understood. Snow had always been the steadfast guardian, the unbreakable shield. To accept help now was to admit vulnerability.

  Before Kai could intervene, Igni—the massive, flame-striped tiger—lumbered forward. His golden eyes glinted with amusement as he sized up the struggling wolf. Then, without ceremony, he seized Snow by the scruff of his neck and heaved him onto Ning's broad back.

  Snow yelped in indignation, his claws scrabbling against Ning's thick hide as he righted himself. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but Igni merely flicked his tail dismissively, as if to say, "Don't be dramatic."

  Ning, for her part, remained unfazed. She turned her massive head to glance at the disgruntled wolf perched between her shoulders and let out a deep, resonant moo—a sound that somehow managed to convey both patience and smug satisfaction.

  Defeated, Snow finally relented with a pitiful whimper, tucking his paws beneath him and glaring daggers at Igni, who sauntered away with the air of a victor.

  Kai shook his head, hiding a smirk. "Alright," he called, slinging the last of their supplies over his shoulder. "Let's move."

  As the group set out, the last remnants of their ice shelter collapsed behind them, scattering shards across the earth like broken glass.

  The group moved as a living caravan through the awakening wilderness of Zan. Spring had begun to loosen winter’s grip—patches of snow lingered in shadowed hollows, but the earth beneath was softening, giving way to the first brave shoots of green. The wind, however, remained a relentless companion, slicing through layers of clothing with icy teeth. Kai guided them along sheltered paths, weaving through dense thickets and rocky outcrops to spare Snow and the smaller Beastkin the worst of the gusts.

  They traveled in a loose formation: Ning the quake buffalo at the center, her steady gait unshaken by Snow’s weight on her back; Igni the flame-striped tiger prowling ahead, his ears twitching at every unfamiliar sound; the smaller creatures—foxes, raccoon-dogs, and winged birds—flitting between the trees like dappled shadows. Lu Bu, ever energetic, scrambled over rocks and fallen logs with the boundless curiosity of youth, while Gin brought up the rear, his steps measured but his gaze restless.

  Hours passed in relative silence, broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot, the occasional chatter of the Beastkin, and the distant rush of melt-swollen rivers. Then, as they navigated a narrow pass between two moss-capped boulders, Gin quickened his pace to fall in beside Kai.

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  "Are you sure we’re going the right way?" Gin asked, his voice low enough that Lu Bu, who was currently attempting to balance on a fallen log, wouldn’t overhear.

  Kai kept his eyes on the uneven terrain ahead as he answered Gin’s skepticism. "The birds in our group have an innate sense of direction. If we stray too far off course, they’ll let us know." He gestured upward where a pair of hawk-like spirit beasts circled lazily against the pale sky, their keen eyes scanning both the path ahead and the lands beyond.

  "Fine, but what if we run into something the birds can’t see? A ravine? A landslide? A pack of demonic cultivators hiding in a cave?"

  Kai exhaled through his nose. "The birds scout ahead. The wolves listen for tremors. The foxes smell danger before we see it. We’re not blind, Gin. "

  A sudden yelp drew Kai’s attention—Lu Bu had lost his balance on a moss-slick log, arms pinwheeling. Kai tensed, ready to lunge, but Igni was faster. The massive tiger snatched the boy’s tunic in his teeth mid-fall, lifting him effortlessly and depositing him back on steady ground. Lu Bu laughed, patting Igni’s muzzle in thanks, and Kai felt an unexpected warmth in his chest. It seemed since training Lu Bu was no longer scared of the spirit beasts, and the beastkin had taken to the boy as if he were one of their own—playful but protective, like elders watching over a cub.

  Gin, however, continued the conversation. "What’s your plan if—"

  "How many bottles of Five-Peak Mountain Dew do you have left?" Kai interrupted, changing the conversation.

  Gin’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"

  Kai smirked. "And you called me a suspicious bastard. I’m just curious. You’ve been on the run for years. How does a man with your… condition… keep himself supplied?"

  Gin hesitated, then sighed. "I fled with a dozen jars. After the one I gave you, I’ve got three left." He patted the gourd at his hip. "I’ve been stretching it. This thing’s mostly water—just a few drops of Five-Peak Mountain Dew. The wine’s so potent it turns a whole gourd of water into weak but drinkable wine. Good enough to keep the shakes away."

  Kai blinked. "You water it down? You have the Drunken Master Physique, and you dilute your liquor?"

  "I hate drinking," Gin admitted, his voice sharp with frustration. "Always have. Even as a kid, the taste made me gag. But when I turned eighteen, the cravings hit. Now, if I don’t drink, I get chills, tremors—like my bones are freezing from the inside out. So yeah, I water it down. Weak wine means no hangover, no stupor, but keeps the chills away."

  Kai whistled low. "A Drunken Master who despises alcohol. The heavens have a cruel sense of humor."

  Gin shot him a glare. "Laugh it up. Now that you’ve pried into my tragic backstory, how about you share yours? Or is ‘former menagerie keeper’ all I get?"

  Kai’s amusement faded. "I told you what I told Lu Bu. I was an outer disciple of the Ember Sword Sect. Tended their menagerie. The sect burned. I left. End of story."

  "Bullshit," Gin said flatly. "You expect me to believe a low-ranking nobody escaped a sect’s destruction with an entire pack of spirit beasts intact? That those creatures follow you out of kindness? There is more to it."

  Kai rolled his eyes. "Believe what you will."

  Without warning, a shadow blotted out the sun as Fenglei, the thunder eagle, descended in a swift, powerful dive. His massive wings sent gusts of wind whipping through the grass as he pulled up sharply, hovering just inches from Kai’s face with an urgent “Sqwaaak!”

  Kai raised his forearm instinctively, offering the bird a steady perch. Fenglei’s talons gripped firmly but carefully, his feathers still crackling faintly with residual static from the storm winds he rode. The great eagle tucked his wings in, his sharp golden eyes locked onto Kai’s with unmistakable intensity.

  “What’s wrong, Fenglei?” Kai asked, his voice calm but alert.

  “Sqwaak!” The eagle’s cry was sharp, insistent.

  Kai studied the bird’s posture—the way his feathers bristled, the slight tilt of his head toward the north. “Good or bad?”

  Fenglei shook his head vigorously, his beak snapping shut with a decisive click.

  Kai’s brow furrowed. “Are there a lot of them?”

  The eagle rocked back and forth on Kai’s arm, his talons tightening slightly—a clear sign of agitation.

  “Hmm…” Kai exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting toward the distant tree line where Fenglei had come from.

  “See what I mean?” Gin cut in, his arms crossed and his usual smirk replaced by a look of sheer disbelief. “You expect me to believe that story you spun earlier? There’s no way you’re just ‘guessing’ what that bird’s saying—you’ve got to be using some kind of spirit-tongue technique!”

  Kai sighed. “It’s not a technique. I’ve just spent enough time around beasts to understand their cues. Fenglei’s not speaking words—he’s communicating through movement, sound, and instinct.”

  Gin scoffed. “Then what’s the overgrown chicken trying to say?”

  “Sqwaaaaak!” Fenglei shrieked, puffing up his feathers in clear offense. His wings half-flared, and a spark of electricity danced between his primaries.

  Kai shot Gin a warning look. “Call him a chicken again, and you might find out how prideful thunder eagles can be,” He turned back to Fenglei, stroking the bird’s chest feathers to soothe him. “He says there’s an encampment ahead—hidden in the forest pass. And from his reaction… it’s not friendly.”

  Gin’s smirk faded, replaced by wary calculation. “Bandits?”

  Kai nodded.

  A heavy silence settled over them, broken only by the ambience of the forest around them.