Xuan darted through the village like a shadow, his small black beast form barely noticeable amid the chaos of snarling beasts and fighting adult beastmen.
He knew running out was a reckless move, but he also knew that every sub-beast and cub who'd been escorted to the cave had only made it because they'd crossed paths with beastmen who weren't already occupied by the enemy. In this kind of chaos, no one would spare the time to go searching for stragglers hiding in the village's nooks and crannies.
Father and Uncle Yang were gone. If he didn't go look for An'an and Chiye, no one else would.
And he had confidence in his own abilities. Ever since he'd started training at the age of four, he'd known he was far stronger than other cubs his age.
Xuan ran swiftly along the tree-lined paths and the shadows of ruined huts. The air was thick with a jumble of scents—blood, fur, fear—so he relied solely on his eyes to navigate the chaos.
Dodging the wild beasts, he first raced back to his own home. There was no trace of Chiye's scent anywhere.
They weren't here!
Without hesitation, he turned and sprinted toward Yang and Chiye's house, which stood near the village's outer perimeter—the first place the beasts would have attacked.
If An'an and Chiye were there…
Xuan didn't dare to finish the thought.
He crept past the fighting beastmen and beasts with extreme caution, circling around the square to head straight for Chiye's hut.
When he finally arrived, his heart sank to his stomach. The hut was in shambles, clearly ransacked by the invading beasts. A wave of icy dread washed over him, freezing his blood in his veins. He rushed inside, but there was no sign of Chiye or An'an.
Thankfully, there was no trace of their blood either.
He sniffed the air carefully, sorting through the overwhelming scents until he locked onto a faint trail.
He followed it without hesitation, dodging several beasts that spotted him along the way by using his intimate knowledge of the village's terrain to lose them. For a twelve-year-old cub, escaping a single beast was manageable if they ran fast enough—and Xuan's strength was already on par with those older cubs.
He tracked the faint scent of Chiye and An'an, but it didn't lead far before being completely drowned out by the thick, coppery stench of beast and beastman blood. This area had seen fierce, brutal fighting, and the scents were too jumbled for him to distinguish anything else.
Xuan hid beneath the ruins of a collapsed hut, scanning his surroundings anxiously. The area was swarming with beasts and beastmen—if he ventured any farther, he'd be throwing himself into the heart of the battle.
He paced back and forth, his paws scraping at the ground in frustration, trying to think of a way to proceed.
Then, suddenly, a thunderous roar split the sky—one that sent a wave of relief crashing over him. The hunting party had returned!
Their roars were filled with unbridled fury, as if they intended to tear the sky itself apart.
The beastmen still fighting in the village heard them, and their own roars of response rang out, infused with newfound strength and hope. Among those roars were many younger, more high-pitched ones—proof that even the cubs were fighting tooth and claw to defend their home.
Xuan knew they were going to be safe now that the adults were back. His courage surged, and he made up his mind to press on. It would take time to clear out all the remaining beasts—he had to find An'an and Chiye, to protect them. He could hold off a beast long enough to wait for the adult beastmen to come to their rescue.
He climbed to the top of the ruins, scanning the horizon. He spotted Chiye near the food storage warehouse, with a massive gray-black beast looming over him. The beast was attacking him relentlessly, slamming him to the ground with a single paw. The warehouse's doors had been torn open, and all the stored food lay scattered on the ground beside him.
But it was the sight on the other side of the beast that made Xuan's pupils contract violently with horror.
There, piled up like discarded garbage, were the bodies of countless sub-beasts and their young cubs.
The massive beast swatted at the prone Chiye with its sharp claws every now and then, as if toying with its prey. Chiye lay on the ground, his body curled protectively around An'an, enduring the beast's blows as it raked its claws across his back, leaving deep, bleeding wounds.
The beast seemed to find Chiye's desperate struggle amusing, flicking its tail lazily and letting out low, rumbling sounds of satisfaction. Each swat left another wound on Chiye's body, but none were fatal—not yet. The beast was clearly enjoying the torment.
Chiye tried several times to crawl to his feet, to grab An'an and run, but each time the beast slammed him back down, then sank its fangs into his back and legs in a fit of cruel frustration.
Chiye was quickly reduced to a bloodied mess, but the beast's cruel game was far from over—it had no intention of killing him just yet.
Xuan's eyes turned blood-red with rage. He let out a guttural snarl, his voice cracking with fury as he charged toward them, his small paws pounding the ground.
Suddenly, the beast paused, its head snapping up to glare in the direction of the village, its expression twisted into a taunting sneer. It lost all interest in torturing Chiye then, and in a single, brutal movement, it sank its fangs into Chiye's neck and snapped it cleanly.
A deafening roar of agony erupted from the same direction the beast had looked. Yang burst forth from the shadows, his beast form towering with rage as he lunged at the monster.
The beast dodged Yang's attack with ease, then swatted Chiye's lifeless body aside with a single paw, sending it flying to land near the pile of sub-beast corpses.
Xuan watched, his heart breaking into a million pieces, as Chiye's arm remained curled protectively around An'an even in death.
He watched as Yang launched himself at the beast in a blind, suicidal rage, attacking with no regard for his own safety.
He watched as the beast regarded Yang with nothing but disdain, toying with him like a cat plays with a mouse.
He watched helplessly as Yang was overpowered, narrowly escaping death several times at the beast's claws.
There was nothing he could do but roar at the top of his lungs, crying out for the nearby beastmen to come and help.
With his strength, Yang could have easily escaped with his life even if he couldn't defeat the beast. But he'd watched his mate be tortured and killed right before his eyes. He had no desire to run.
Soon enough, Xuan's desperate roars were heard.
It was Xia, leading three of the hunting party's strongest beastmen. They saw Yang was outmatched and immediately joined the fray.
The beast was powerful—far more powerful than any they'd ever faced before. Even with five prime-aged beastmen attacking it at once, they only just managed to gain the upper hand.
To put that into perspective: a single adult beastman could easily take on two ordinary wild beasts, even killing one of them. And the five beastmen fighting now were the absolute elite of their tribe.
As the remaining beasts in the village were killed or driven away by the returning hunting party, the massive gray-black beast finally began to show signs of retreat.
It deliberately left an opening, taking two brutal hits to its body, then turned and fled toward the forest.
Just as Xia and the other three beastmen relaxed their guard, preparing to return to the village to clean up the remaining beasts, Yang let out a bloodcurdling scream and charged after the fleeing monster.
Xia didn't even have time to stop him.
"Li! He! Go after Yang and bring him back immediately! The rest of you, come with me to finish clearing the village!"
The moment Xia and the others arrived, Xuan had sprinted straight to Chiye's side. He stared at Chiye's bloodied, lifeless body, a heart-wrenching whimper escaping his throat. He nuzzled Chiye's cheek with his head, begging him to wake up, but he knew it was futile.
Then, suddenly, he felt a faint puff of warm air brush against his whiskers.
His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto An'an, who was still curled in Chiye's arms. An'an was still breathing! He was alive!
Xuan carefully pried An'an out of Chiye's grasp—Chiye's arms were locked in a death grip, and Xuan took great care not to damage his body, struggling for several minutes before he managed to free his little brother.
But An'an's breathing was shallow and weak, as if it would stop at any moment. There was a severe gash on his head from a blow, and deep, bone-deep bite marks marred his back.
Xuan didn't know what to do. He could only lick An'an's wounds over and over again, praying to whatever gods were listening that his little brother would survive.
It felt like an eternity passed before the last of the beasts in the village were finally cleared out. The beastmen let out a triumphant roar, signaling that the village was safe at last, and ordering the beastmen guarding the shelter cave to bring the hidden clansmen back.
But Xuan could feel An'an's breath growing fainter and fainter with every passing second. Tears streamed down his face, soaking his fur, as he huddled on the ground, letting out a heartbroken wail of helplessness.
When Xia finally arrived with Qiuye and Lie, An'an's breathing was barely detectable. Xuan curled his front paws around his little brother, resting his head gently on An'an's body, his whimpers echoing through the silent square.
In the end, An'an took his last breath in Qiuye's arms. Xia's face remained stoic, but his hands betrayed him—his nails were dug so deeply into his palms that they drew blood, staining his fingers crimson.
And Xuan's little brother—the one who'd followed him around since he could talk, yelling "Brother! Brother!" at the top of his lungs; the one who'd loved to wrap his tiny arms around Xuan's neck and snuggle up to him; the one who'd begged to ride on his back as he ran through the village—was gone forever.
Qiuye collapsed to the ground, fainting from the overwhelming grief. Lie threw himself onto Chiye's chest, wailing until he too lost consciousness.
Li and He finally returned with Yang long after night had fallen.
They carried the unconscious Yang back to Xia's house, their faces grim with exhaustion.
They told Xia that they'd chased after Yang, but had been waylaid by a pack of wild beasts along the way. By the time they'd fought them off and resumed their pursuit, Yang was nowhere to be seen.
When they finally found him, his leg was broken, and he was pinned beneath the massive gray-black beast—now known to them as the shadow beast. A deep, jagged scar marred the beast's face, a souvenir from Yang's desperate attack.
The shadow beast had been about to deliver the killing blow when Li and He arrived. Fearing that more beastmen were on their way, it fled into the depths of the forest without finishing Yang off.
Yang's injuries were severe. He lay on the ground, his broken leg twisted at an unnatural angle, but he still tried to crawl toward the direction the shadow beast had fled, his fingers scraping bloody furrows into the dirt.
Li and He had rushed to him, forcing him to return to the village. He'd thrashed and roared, struggling to break free and chase after the beast, until he finally collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss, slipping into unconsciousness.
When the tribe saw how gravely injured Yang was, everyone had thought he wouldn't survive the night.
But Chiye was dead, and Xia and Qiuye had already lost An'an. They couldn't—they *wouldn't*—lose Yang too.
Xia took charge of the village's reconstruction every day, directing the clansmen to bury the dead and clear away the ruins of the destroyed huts. He returned home late every night, and the first thing he did was check on Yang and Lie.
Qiuye forced himself to stay strong, caring for Xuan and Lie while nursing Yang back to health. Yang remained unconscious for days, so Qiuye ground meat into a paste and mixed it with broth, feeding it to him drop by drop. Every night, Xia shifted into his beast form and licked Yang's wounds clean to prevent infection. The best food in the house was reserved for Yang's nourishing meals.
Several times, Yang's breathing had grown so faint that they'd thought he'd died.
Five days—Yang had been unconscious for a full five days. The village's elderly beastmen had all said that a beastman with injuries as severe as his would be lucky to last three days. But he'd clung to life, surviving one close call after another. With a beastman's incredible regenerative abilities, they'd finally dared to hope that he might pull through.
On the seventh day, Yang finally woke up. The elders said it was his unyielding desire for revenge that had kept him alive—that he'd clung to life purely out of hatred for the shadow beast.
Xia had expected Yang to collapse into a frenzy of grief and rage when he woke up. He'd even posted a beastman outside his house to guard him, ready to restrain him if he tried to hurt himself or others.
But the Yang who woke up was nothing like the confident, bold warrior who'd once been the tribe's strongest fighter. He was quiet, hollow-eyed, as if all the life and spirit had been drained from his body overnight. He was docile, almost unnervingly so.
But it was all a facade. Just as Xia began to let his guard down, thinking that Yang had accepted his fate, Yang vanished—sneaking past the patrols and fleeing into the forest to hunt down the shadow beast.
In the end, it was Xia who personally led a search party to bring him back.
Yang had thrashed and roared like a wild beast, fighting tooth and nail to break free. Xia had no choice but to tie him up with thick vines to keep him from running away again.
He'd dragged the struggling Yang to Lie's side, forcing him to look at his son.
"You want revenge against the shadow beast?" Xia had said, his voice cold and sharp with anger and grief. "Fine! But look at this child! He's your son—*yours and Chiye's*. What will happen to him if you throw your life away chasing a monster?"
"The tribe will raise him if you die—we always take care of our own. But you know as well as I do that a child with parents is nothing like one without them."
"Even if Qiuye and I take him in, you know how weak he's been since An'an died. He's not strong enough to raise two cubs on his own—especially not when he's still grieving."
"I've said my piece. If you still want to go and die, then go. I won't stop you."
After that, Yang had fallen completely silent. When Xia cut the vines binding him, he'd stumbled over to Lie and pulled his son into his arms, staring blankly into the distance for a long, long time before finally breaking down, his body wracked with heart-wrenching sobs.
Sam listened to Xuan's story in complete silence. Xuan's voice had been eerily calm, as if he were recounting someone else's pain—as if he'd taken a jagged, bloodstained stone and buried it deep in his heart, letting his own flesh and blood grind it smooth over the years, until all that was left was a quiet, hollow ache.
It took Sam a long time to find his voice again. He looked at Xuan, half of his body still shrouded in the shadow of the wall, and slowly reached out to pat him on the shoulder. His lips moved, but no sound came out at first. It was only after a long pause that he finally managed to whisper,
"It's over now."
The room fell silent once more.
Finally, it was Xuan who broke the silence. He smiled, his expression light and carefree, just like it had been when Sam first met him.
"Sorry for dumping all this on you so late at night. It's probably all just a bunch of meaningless rambling."
His voice was clear and bright, full of youthful energy, with no trace of the grief and pain he'd just poured out.
"It's getting late. You should get some rest. I'll head back now."
Before Sam could say anything else, Xuan stood up, lifted the hide curtain, and stepped out of the room, closing it softly behind him.
Sam took off his outer clothes and lay down on the clean animal hides, his mind replaying every word Xuan had said.
Now he understood why the tribe had so few sub-beasts, and even fewer sub-beast cubs. Looking out at the village, it was almost entirely beastmen and their cubs.
Xia had stood before the tribe as their leader, revealing the truth behind the attack ten years ago to give his people closure—to lay the ghosts of the past to rest once and for all.
But Xuan had spoken to him as a simple clansman, a grieving brother, a helpless child who'd lost everything. He'd told Sam the story of an ordinary beastman caught in the middle of a nightmare—of powerlessness, of despair, of the searing pain of losing the people he loved most in the world.
It made Sam realize, more deeply than ever before, that the attack ten years ago had left far more than just physical scars on the Azure Mountain Tribe. It wasn't just the loss of life that had shattered them—it was the permanent, unhealable wounds it had left on the hearts of those who'd survived, the ones who'd been forced to carry the weight of their grief for a decade.
A decade hadn't been enough to heal those wounds. It had only buried them deeper, locked away in the darkest corners of their hearts, where they would linger forever.