As Yan Wuhen descended the stone stairs leading up to his master's mountain temple, two guards following closely behind him, unease crawled up his spine.
The sun had already set. The air was bitterly cold.
And his wrist burned.
His steps slowed. Then stopped.
The tightness around his wrist sharpened suddenly violent and suffocating.
Yan Wuhen lowered his gaze just as the spirit mate chain manifested, coiling tightly around his wrist and fist, glowing faintly in the dark.
His fox eyes narrowed.
"He's gone," he said quietly.
The chain pulsed once.
"He's been gone for a while."
The chain dissolved, vanishing into his skin.
He turned to his guards, who immediately bowed their heads, rigid with tension.
"Find out what happened to Su Ningyan," he ordered calmly. "Report back immediately."
"Yes, Your Highness," they answered in unison, already moving vanishing down the path in seconds.
Yan Wuhen didn't wait.
