Yinmo's breath came in ragged, desperate gasps as he lay vulnerable on the cold, leaf-strewn forest floor. Around him, the wind wolves had closed in—a snarling, shifting circle of menace poised to feast. Their eyes glinted with savage hunger under the ghostly light of the moon, and he could almost feel their hot breath on his skin as their jaws snapped aimlessly in anticipation of the kill.
Just as a massive wolf lunged forward, ready to seize him, a sudden, forceful howl shattered the charged tension. The alpha, an immense beast radiating core formation energy, raised its head and unleashed a long, commanding cry that halted the predators in mid-advance. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted—the wild cacophony giving way to an eerie silence as the pack began to withdraw, their predatory hunger momentarily stilled by the alpha's decree.
In the quiet that followed, from a darkened corner at the edge of the clearing, the beta's low, vibrating murmur emerged, carrying a curious tone heavy with forbidden wonder:
Beta: "Why did we let him go?"
A pause, as if the night itself was listening, then the beta continued in a hushed murmur:
Beta: "I sensed... some sort of bloodline suppression."
Almost immediately, the beta's voice cut through with incredulity:
Beta: "Impossible. He's but a mortal human…"
A heavy silence stretched into seconds as the beta seemed to weigh the unthinkable. Then, almost as a whisper borne on the wind, the beta ventured once again:
Beta: "Could it be that he is that…?"
At that moment, the alpha's deep, thunderous bark reverberated through the forest, a final command that brooked no further speculation:
Alpha: "Silence! This matter is forbidden!"
The alpha's order was unyielding, and with it came the command to resume the hunt. Yet the pack hesitated, the eerie pause lingering as they slowly receded into the dark embrace of the forest.
For his part, Yinmo, still reeling from the near-fatal assault, gathered his fading strength and forced himself to move. Every motion sent fresh waves of agony through his body, but survival was his only thought. Crawling clumsily through the tangled underbrush, his eyes caught a glimmer in the dim light—a solitary lotus nestled against twisting roots.
Its appearance was as strange as it was mesmerizing. The delicate petals were divided starkly: one half shone with a ghostly pure white, while the other was engulfed in an inky black that swallowed the light around it. The bloom seemed an apt symbol for the duality of life and death swirling around him in that moment.
With trembling urgency born of desperation, Yinmo reached out and plucked the enigmatic lotus. Clutching the flower with shaking hands, he swallowed its essence, praying that its reputed vitality might instantly cauterize his relentless bleeding.
As the bitter taste of the lotus mingled with the metallic tang of his blood, Yinmo felt a subtle ripple surge through his battered body—a quiet promise of change amid the encroaching darkness. Yet, even as that faint transformation stirred within him, the echoes of the alpha's command and the beta's forbidden suspicions haunted the night, leaving his fate hanging uncertain in the oppressive, indifferent forest.