“Hiding in the snow?” Ren Lin thought to herself. A firm grip built around held her ankle.

  She looked down.

  A large blue hand, covered in white fur, burst from the snow.

  “XING—!”

  Her cry was cut short by fast and sturdy steps.

  Feiyun Xing was already moving.

  A burst of lightning cracked the air as he drew his sword in a beautiful arc.

  Tzztch!

  The hand separated cleanly at the wrist.

  Ren Lin fell backward into the snow as the severed limb twitched beside her, then turned back into snow.

  “Get up from the snow and stay behind me.” The prince ordered.

  Without a choice, she obeyed. Staying behind him as he cut the creatures.

  Sweat began forming on his forehead as he swung more and more. Instead of decreasing, they growed!

  Every time his sword made contact with their bodies, they would turn into snow, then form back.

  “Fighting against Snow-Lurkers is like fighting against water!” Feiyun Xing thought to himself. “But if I can’t even defeat them, how useless am I?”

  His frustration snapped when Ren Lin shouted, “Let’s run! There are too many of them!”

  “I can handle them!” He answered. “I just need to destroy their Cores.”

  Snow-Lurkers would refine a part of their body as a Core. Usually, it would be their heart. Not only humans could possess essence—animals could too.

  But how could they create Cores with such low intelligence? Instinct. Once a being connected to the Veil, it naturally leaned toward a certain path, making Core creation on that path far easier.

  For Snow-Lurkers, inspiration for the transformation path came effortlessly—their talent was instinctive, shaped by natural selection, since any that failed to refine the Core simply died.

  The prince was aware of all of that. Yet, it was hard for him to find their hearts. Some of them leaned more to the right side of their chest, and some on the left.

  He became too focused on his fight, not noticing Ren Lin distancing herself more and more.

  A Snow-Lurker erupted from the snow near her—launching itself forward on all fours like a charging gorilla, snow exploding behind it in a white spray.

  Ren Lin reacted on instinct.

  She dodged flat onto the snow.

  The creature missed her torso—

  —but its massive arms came down a split second later.

  WHUMP.

  Both hands slammed onto her legs.

  The impact knocked the breath from her, but she didn’t scream—adrenaline turned the pain into a problem for later. Her mind blanked for half a heartbeat.

  Now, she needed to move.

  Unsurprisingly, her legs refused to respond. Still, that was fine.

  “REN LIN!!”

  Feiyun Xing’s roar hit the air like a crack of thunder.

  He was rushing toward her, sword crackling with little bolts.

  The Snow-Lurker lifted its arms again, preparing to destroy her completely.

  Feiyun Xing didn’t let it.

  Splat!

  His sword pierced straight through its heart, the creature collapsed on the ground.

  “Hold on,” he breathed, hurriedly kneeling down beside her.

  Her eyes were wide with adrenaline, chest heaving, but she still tried to push herself up. Her legs trembled violently and didn’t lift.

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  “Don’t try to stand.” His voice hardened. “You’re in shock.”

  As he stood, he threw her over his shoulder, carrying her. Her legs dangled—not limp, but unsteady, numb.

  “I’ve got you.”

  The Snow-Lurkers shrieked behind them—dozens, answering each other in the snow.

  Feiyun Xing’s eyes scanned the surroundings. Then he surged into a sprint, his boots hammering the snow in tiny explosions. His breath remained steady.

  “We should have left,” Ren Lin muttered, half-dazed.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He locomoted toward the nearest mountain ridge.

  Behind them, Snow-Lurkers plunged in and out of the snow like hungry sharks.

  Feiyun Xing tightened his grip around her and accelerated.

  “There—!” he hissed, spotting a narrow black slice in the cliffside—a cave.

  A place the Snow-Lurkers wouldn’t want to enter.

  He threw himself forward, as two lurkers burst from the ground to stop him.

  Snow erupted around them as he leapt—

  —and landed inside the cave.

  Putting Ren Lin down, he spun immediately, hitting with his essence-infused hand against a wall, sending a shockwave that collapsed snow and loose debris into the entrance.

  Darkness muffled the outside world.

  Numerous sparks of lightning illuminated the little snow hill caused by the collapse. His blade was stuck in it—melting it immediately.

  After clearing all the snow, Feiyun Xing exhaled shakily as he knelt down. Holding Ren Lin close, as if releasing her would make the world collapse again.

  “…Ren Lin,” he said with a knot in his throat, voice trembling with adrenaline, “I can’t lose someone else. Not now. I should have been more careful!”

  “Shh…” Ren Lin reached up and patted his cheek. “Just use a healing Core. I’ll be fine, you crybaby.”

  He nodded quickly and reached into his Serpent Cache. Along with a faint glow, a slightly transparent jade stone appeared, as well as a blue stick that lit up the cave.

  “Use it on my lower back,” she said.

  “But then you’ll feel the pain in your legs—” Feiyun Xing began.

  “That’s your punishment for your overconfidence.” She cut him off with a firm look.

  “I… I’m sorry. But that’s really not necessary.”

  Ren Lin raised an eyebrow.

  “Sigh...” Without another word, he held the jade to her lower back. Little sparks zipped through her skin, and the slow rearranging of bone began—bringing sensation back with it.

  Pain flickered in her nerves all at once.

  “Mmph—!” Her teeth clenched.

  An eerie lullaby reverberated through the sealed entrance:

  “A forgotten place…

  Forsaken space,

  With the purpose gone,

  Nothing can be wrong.”

  Feiyun Xing’s hands stilled.

  His eyelids fluttered once, then lowered. His breathing softened—not relaxed, but emptied, as if something was hollowing him out. The jade slipped slightly in his fingers.

  “In a trance…” Ren Lin realized, still sucking in shallow breaths. “My plan worked out.”

  The voice continued:

  “Disturbed unknown?

  A happy zone,

  Can you truly live,

  Knowing what death is?”

  The prince’s head tilted as if to hear it better.

  “Okay enough time wasted,” she told herself.

  “Xing—Xing!” Ren Lin slapped his shoulder weakly. “Wake up!”

  No reaction.

  Her pain spiked sharply—regardless, she drew her hand back and slapped him across the face.

  Smack!

  Feiyun Xing jerked violently, inhaling like someone pulled from underwater.

  “What—?!” His eyes blinked rapidly. “What happened? Why did you—”

  “You were in a trance,” Ren Lin explained. “What is the last thing you remember?”

  “I-I came back after buying the Vital Lotus Core.”

  “Listen, Xing,” she said, gripping his sleeve so he stayed focused. “We’re already on Bingmeng. Heal my injuries.”

  “When did we get so close that she started calling me by my first name?” He asked himself, as he nodded quickly. Then activating the jade Core again, while the eerie singing continued behind the collapsed entrance.

  After a moment, he spoke, with a guilty tone. “How did you get hurt? I feel like… it was my fault.”

  “We were attacked by Snow-Lurkers,” Ren Lin said. “Their numbers increased quickly. I told you we should retreat, but you said you could handle it. You were too focused on trying to find their Cores, and then one got behind me…”

  She exhaled like a disappointed mother. “You can figure out the rest.”

  “I’m sorry…” he sighed.

  “Oh, come on. As long as you’re around, nothing truly bad will happen to me.” Her hand reached up and patted his head, gentle but firm. “Don’t apologize—just listen to me a little more.”

  He swallowed, nodding. “Well… we were actually lucky. If you hadn’t been injured, you would’ve fallen for the Leviathan’s singing too. Who knows how much we might’ve forgotten?” His voice lowered. “At least now we know that hearing one verse makes you lose around twelve hours of memory. It’s… terrifying.”

  Ren Lin nodded while sneering inside. “We weren’t lucky. I moved away the moment I saw the Leviathan stirring on the horizon. The injury helped me with two things: avoiding the song—and tightening my hold on the prince. Letting him drown in guilt… until never questioning me.”

  The jade Core pressed against her legs after he finished fixing her spine. Healing sparks prickled on the back of her thighs, nerves knitted, bones aligned. Bit by bit, the agony dulled to a throbbing burn.

  After several quiet minutes, he exhaled. “It’s done. You should be able to move your legs now.”

  Rolling onto her back, she tested her toes. Slight pain lingered, but her limbs obeyed. “Good. One problem solved.”

  The singing beyond the entrance collapsed.

  “It seems like once you snap out of it, it can’t get you until the next time.” Feiyun Xing analyzed. “We need to be prepared. We know that pain interferes—so, we should injure ourselves.”

  Ren Lin nodded. “A cut on our palms should suffice.”

  Silently, his hand drifted his sword out its sheath.

  “I’ll go first,” he said, pressing his palm flat on the blade. Then dragging it across with a swift, controlled movement. A thin line of red welled up immediately, warm against the frigid air.

  His dripping blood began to freeze, after bandaging it, he put on his glove.

  Ren Lin extended her hand.

  But Feiyun Xing hesitated—just for a second.

  “…Don’t go too deep,” he murmured.

  She rolled her eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Her hand met the blade, and she drew it across her own palm. The sting flared bright, grounding her mind with clean clarity.

  Both wounds bled lightly.

  Both minds sharpened.

  Feiyun Xing wiped the sword clean with a cloth and sheathed it. “If either of us starts slipping, press on the cut. Don’t hesitate.”

  “No need to tell me that.”

  They sat side by side in the shadowed cave, backs against cold stone. The collapsed entrance no longer leaked light—only the faint, muffled whisper of wind outside.

  The singing did not return.

  Not yet.