As Fei prepared to step through the fence, the tactical goggles hanging at his neck flickered to life, projecting a synchronized feed from Lulu Gan.

  There, on the screen, the patterns etched across Yue Yang’s skin remained stark and vivid. Her wounds closed with agonizing slowness.

  The Purifying Spirit Eye at her throat stared blankly—like the fixed pupil of the dead. Since she had fallen unconscious, it had not stirred once.

  Fei halted, his eyes rimming red at the sight.

  Since yesterday, when he had carried Yue Yang back to the medical wing, Deacon Lan had revoked his investigative privileges.

  The missing-children case had been forcibly closed. Now Fei was merely an ordinary scout—stripped of rank, stripped of access.

  He no longer held the right to approach the medical sector. Even with the spirit herbs rewarded by Deputy Deacon Zhang and the bounty from completed missions, he could barely sustain cultivation to the mid-tier of yuan force.

  To rise further—to protect the one he loved—those meager resources were laughably insufficient.

  The weight of it pressed down on him. With his current standing, he was powerless to halt Yue Yang’s impending confinement in the ice prison. Only greater strength could offer hope.

  Staring at the feed Lulu Gan had risked sending, Fei knew he lacked the means to shield her now.

  His fists clenched until knuckles cracked like dry twigs.

  Zhi Zhao, sensing the storm in him, did not dare draw closer.

  Then, abruptly, Fei flung his arms wide, palms open, tracing a vast arc through the air as though coaxing water essence itself.

  “The heavens birth spirit essence; the five energies shape will and intent. Step upon earth and stone to draw gravitational force; body and form unite to suppress evil qi… disperse!”

  He murmured his father’s teachings under his breath. A wave of pressure rippled outward. With the final word—“disperse”—the dark energy coiled inside him unraveled and vanished.

  When Fei opened his eyes again, calm had returned. He closed the feed with steady fingers.

  Hope rekindled in his chest. He clung to Elder Bai’s words: Yue Yang would survive.

  At that moment, he sensed warm breath against his shoulder.

  A massive gray-feathered thunder eagle leaned over the fence, nudging him gently with its head.

  “Batian… from now on, it’s just you and me.”

  The eagle understood. It lowered its great head and butted Fei’s hand with affectionate care.

  This gray-feathered creature was the offspring of Yong Yuan’s white-feathered thunder eagle—a beast that had fallen alongside Fei’s father in battle.

  To the artisans who tended them, these bond-bound eagles were often more faithful than men.

  Fei vaulted into the enclosure, sprang high, and settled onto Batian’s broad back.

  From that height he surveyed the place he had known since childhood—now changed beyond recognition, peopled by strangers and ghosts.

  Finally, his gaze settled on Zhi Zhao, still frozen in place. Fei glared a moment, then jerked his head in silent command.

  Zhi Zhao gathered wind essence and leapt, landing behind him.

  “Captain Fei!”

  Lulu Gan’s voice

  Fei tossed her a parcel, snapped a crisp salute, then urged Batian forward.

  The eagle’s wings unfurled like storm clouds. The downdraft was ferocious—Lulu Gan shielded her eyes against the gale.

  When she could see again, the thunder eagle was already a shrinking silhouette against the horizon.

  In the direction it had vanished, a colossal magitech airship hove into view above the Legion, its five-colored yuan banners of the Five Alliances blazing in the sun.

  “The delegations have arrived,” Lulu Gan muttered. “I can’t miss this.”

  She tucked the parcel away and darted into a wooded cabin, emerging moments later at the outer camp’s entrance.

  Smaller craft descended, bearing the Five Alliances’ envoys.

  Streaks of flame flashed across the sky; two emissaries from the Blaze Nation materialized at the gate.

  Then the air itself parted like fabric, and the Sacred Domain delegation stepped through.

  A massive spherical steel vessel dropped from the clouds. Its hatch irised open, revealing three resplendent figures from Tianze City.

  Lin Gan flickered into view from the wall tower, appearing before the gathered envoys.

  With a raised hand, he signaled. The great steel gates ground open behind him.

  Deacon Lan, Deputy Deacon Zhang, Deacon Gan, the Iron Law adjudicator, and a host of battle-hardened veterans stood in solemn array.

  When the Watch Legion’s horns sounded, warriors parted to form a wide corridor.

  They stood at perfect attention, eyes forward, as the Tianjiao Elder approached.

  Her vermilion robes gleamed with noble authority; the golden patterns on her shaved scalp caught the sunlight in halos of fire.

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  She walked among them with a mother’s gentle smile. Every head bowed in deep respect.

  Kai Yi, standing beside Deacon Lan, saw his mother’s bald, gilded countenance for the first time.

  As all others lowered their gaze, he hastily followed, unable to meet her eyes.

  The delegations beheld the Tianjiao Elder and offered congratulations, dropping to one knee. They waited in reverent silence for her blessing before rising.

  Outwardly serene and devout, she moved among them, bestowing individual benedictions.

  Inwardly, she savored the moment utterly. Every past humiliation had led to this—worth every scar.

  Far below, in depths unknown, Timo Yang stirred to consciousness.

  He lay in a cavern thick with acrid stench, imprisoned within a cage of enormous bone spikes.

  Through the dense lattice of barbs, he glimpsed a pool of churning green water in the distance—bubbling, releasing choking vapors into the air.

  A tall, gaunt fish demon—body covered in green-veined scales—scooped viscous liquid into a giant shell and poured it into a separate pool.

  Larval fish thrashed at the surface, gulping the emerald fluid.

  As they swallowed, their bodies twisted: eyes turned virulent green, fins elongated into cruel barbs.

  Around that pool clustered fish demons of every size and grotesque shape.

  Among them, the hideous little creature nearly crushed yesterday by the half-wild man now held court, chattering in bubbling syllables.

  Even the male human-faced demon that had tormented it before listened, rapt.

  The small demon’s buck teeth protruded comically; every word sprayed flecks of saliva.

  Yet none recoiled. The green-scaled throng leaned closer, bulbous eyes widening, throats rumbling with incredulous gurgles.

  Timo Yang, head still swimming, tried to rise—failed. Tried to move—could not. The bone spikes loomed inches away, ready to impale at the slightest shift.

  A bitter taste coated his tongue. He strained to listen.

  And, strangely, he began to understand.

  “Boom! Red energy exploded—our brothers all died in an instant!”

  The little demon flopped dramatically onto its back, clutching stubby limbs, lolling its tongue in mimicry of death.

  The little fish demon writhed on the cavern floor, fangs bared in mock agony, limbs twitching in exaggerated torment. The surrounding demons held their breath, scales quivering, afraid to so much as ripple the stale air.

  Satisfied with the effect, the creature glanced slyly at its audience, then rolled upright in a single, fluid motion. It jabbed a stubby finger toward the hulking male human-faced demon.

  The male tensed, bone staff rising in defense—only to relax when the little one merely mimed dragging something heavy through the air.

  It hauled the invisible burden to its gaping maw and devoured it in one theatrical gulp.

  “That human monster just… ate four of our brothers like that. More savage than any man-eater…”

  The little demon sniffled theatrically, then pinched its fingers together, indicating a hair’s breadth.

  “I was this close to being next. Lucky I’m quick! Let me warn you—this human fiend is far worse than that half-man up there. Stronger even than the Mother…”

  Realizing its slip, the creature’s bulging eyes darted wildly. Seeing the tall green-veined figure still occupied, it pressed on.

  “And the thunder dire wolf? That big!”

  It stretched its webbed, misshapen hands as wide as they would go.

  The crowd’s gaze followed the gesture upward to the dripping cavern ceiling, then snapped to the other hand.

  A beast vast enough to fill the entire cave—surely the greatest wolf of all. The demons stared, mouths slack in horror.

  Dire wolves were their ancient predators. At the mere mention, their bulbous eyes widened to perfect circles.

  The female human-faced demon felt a chill ripple through her scales. She had been foraging below when the foolhardy human leapt into the pool. She had struck from ambush, certain of easy prey.

  Now, at the little demon’s sharp “whoosh-whoosh” sounds, her expression turned murderous.

  The creature’s stumpy legs blurred. In a blink it darted to her side and back again.

  “The wolf was lightning—here, then there, gone…”

  It snapped its jaws on empty air with a wet smack.

  “Pfft! It bit straight for the human monster’s throat…”

  One hand clutched its own neck; the other, mimicking a human mouth, gaped wide and clamped onto its tiny ear.

  “Who could have guessed—the little monster bit back. Gouged the wolf’s eyes, bared its own fangs, and devoured it whole!”

  At this, the massive, bloated guard posted near Timo Yang’s cage paled beneath its scales. A thunderous fart escaped it in terror. Hastily, it shuffled its ponderous bulk away from the bone-spike enclosure.

  The stench jolted Timo Yang further into wakefulness. He had mistaken the guard for some grotesque statue; only when it moved did he see the living horror of its spiked armor.

  Are they talking about me? Was I really that ferocious? After I woke… there were strange corpses nearby. Did I do that?

  The thought sent a shiver through him. Am I truly a monster? That terrifying?

  Do they know me? But… they’re so hideous. I don’t look like that. Ah—my head!

  Pain lanced through his skull without warning. A woman’s face flickered in his mind—gone before he could grasp it.

  “You’re awake. My elixir worked, it seems. You’re no ordinary creature. Are you perhaps bait sent by the sea evil cultivator?”

  The voice—sharp, grating—slid into his ear. Timo Yang started, thoughts scattering.

  “I’m not…”

  He muttered, scanning the cavern. The fish demons only cast fearful glances his way; none had spoken.

  “You… who are you? Where are you?”

  “I am the priestess here. These grotesque failures around you will soon vanish. That little liar only exaggerates—you humans, I know your limits well.”

  Timo Yang searched again, finding nothing.

  “Then do you know who I am? Why I’m here? Do you recognize me?”

  “Hmph. Still playing dumb? Humans come here for one reason: greed.”

  “I’m not pretending. I truly don’t remember who I am. Am I really a human monster?”

  “Arrogant humans, always naming us monsters… You truly remember nothing?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Forgetting may serve you well. The time draws near—her child grows hungry.”

  “Whose child? What do you mean…”

  The question faded into silence, answered only by the little demon’s comical babbling.

  Then the green-veined figure by the bubbling pool whirled abruptly.

  Countless tentacles writhed atop her head, each tipped with a tiny, blinking eye—alive with independent malice.

  Her form echoed humanity: upright, almost graceful. Yet the protruding fangs, emerald scales, and those restless tentacles lent her an aura of profound wrongness.

  She moved with a sinuous sway despite her scaled legs; webbed toes gripped the stone, claws razor-sharp on both hands and feet.

  As she approached Timo Yang’s cage, the little clownfish demon fell silent. The others watched in stunned disbelief as the Fish Mother drew near the bone spikes.

  Fear gripped them; they braced for the human monster’s retaliation, weapons and shields clenched tight.

  Yet the Mother’s demeanor softened impossibly.

  “My child, you are awake.”

  Those were her first words as she neared.

  Every tentacle swiveled to fix upon the boy.

  “Was that you speaking to me earlier?”

  “Yes. This is the bond between mother and child. You are my youngest.”

  The declaration left the demons frozen. To their eyes, he was unmistakably, grotesquely human.

  Even the hideous little clownfish thought this monster uglier than itself—a sentiment shared in silent ripples through the crowd.

  “Mother, he is human! Like those who hunt us. He cannot be trusted!”

  The male human-faced demon protested loudly.

  The Fish Mother remained unmoved; her plans were her own.

  “He is different. From this moment, he is my child.”

  With that, she unlocked the bone-spike cage.

  Timo Yang stepped out cautiously, examining his own hands and feet.

  No matter how he looked, he bore no resemblance to these creatures.

  “Then… what is my name?”

  At his confusion, a small shadow darted behind the Mother and jeered.

  “You’re Ugly Bastard!”

  Memory-less Timo Yang scratched his head at the taunt. “Am I really that ugly?”

  “Ugly Bastard, behave. I bestowed that name—do you dislike it?”

  “I… I like it. Forgive me, Mother. I only thought he was uglier than me.”

  “He is indeed hideous—like a merfolk mongrel. From now on, you shall be Little Mongrel.”

  “Little Mongrel… Then why was I injured?”

  Before she could answer, a subtle tremor rippled through the cavern’s waters.

  Though faint, she knew: feeding time had come.

  A single glance sent several human-faced demons back to the green pool.

  Then the cave shuddered under a heavy impact. Waters churned.

  A new figure breached the surface: female, human torso armed with a bone fork, powerful fish tail lashing behind her.

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