Night fell faster than Lin Yue expected.
The grasslands beyond Greenstone City lost their color as the sun slipped behind the distant hills, shadows stretching long and thin like grasping fingers. The wind grew colder, carrying with it unfamiliar sounds—chirps, rustles, the distant howl of something that hunted after dark.
Lin Yue stiffened.
Night beasts, his mind warned immediately.
He cursed himself silently. Leaving the city had felt right, but stopping so close to the outer wilds had been a mistake. Fear sharpened his senses now, dragging every memory of survival manuals and whispered warnings to the surface.
He moved.
Carefully, slowly, he gathered dry grass and broken twigs, keeping noise to a minimum. He didn't dare start a fire—it would draw attention—but he did his best to form a shallow nest beneath the crooked tree, where roots broke the ground and shadows overlapped.
Hidden.
Protected.
He settled down with his back against the trunk, drawing his knees up slightly. The beast lay curled against his chest, wrapped in his robe. Its body was warmer now than it had been earlier. Still fragile—but no longer fading.
"That's good," Lin Yue whispered. "That's very good."
The beast's eye opened briefly before closing again. Its breathing remained steady.
Lin Yue stayed awake.
He always did.
Sleep had never come easily to him, not since he had learned how quietly death could arrive. Instead, he listened. Counted heartbeats. Measured the rhythm of the night.
Then—
A faint rustle to his left.
Lin Yue's entire body tensed.
His breath slowed, muscles tightening without sound. He didn't turn his head immediately. He waited, listening for confirmation.
Another rustle.
Closer.
Small, his instincts judged. But hungry.
He gently shifted his weight, placing his hand on the dirt beside him. No weapon. No talisman. Just his fingers and fear.
The bond stirred.
A sharp, sudden pulse stabbed through his chest—not pain, but urgency. His vision blurred for a split second, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of closeness.
Something was approaching.
From the right.
Lin Yue's eyes widened.
"You sensed that?" he whispered soundlessly.
The beast stirred, pressing tighter against him.
A third rustle came—too close now.
Lin Yue reacted instantly.
He rolled to the side and pulled the beast with him just as a small, dark shape lunged from the grass where he'd been sitting. Claws snapped shut on empty air.
A nightfang rat.
Its eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, saliva dripping from jagged teeth. Low-level beast. Dangerous only to the careless.
Lin Yue scrambled backward, heart pounding, putting the tree trunk between himself and the creature. He didn't shout. Didn't charge.
He withdrew.
The rat hissed and lunged again.
Before it could reach him, the beast in his arms let out a thin, piercing cry.
The sound wasn't loud.
But it was sharp.
The rat froze mid-step, head jerking to the side as if confused. Its movements slowed, hesitation creeping into its posture.
Lin Yue stared.
"What did you do…?" he breathed.
Another pulse surged through the bond—fear, yes, but layered with something new.
Warning.
The beast wasn't attacking.
It was signaling danger.
Lin Yue didn't waste the opportunity.
He kicked dirt into the rat's face and bolted, running low and fast, keeping the tree line between himself and the predator. He didn't stop until the sounds of pursuit faded into the night.
Only then did he collapse behind a cluster of rocks, gasping for air.
His hands shook violently.
Alive.
He laughed weakly, then clamped a hand over his mouth to silence it.
"I told you," he whispered to the beast, voice trembling. "We run."
The beast's breathing quickened, mirroring his own, before slowly calming. Its body pressed against him, small claws gripping his sleeve.
Another warmth spread through Lin Yue's chest—stronger this time.
Not power.
Connection.
As his heartbeat steadied, something shifted within the bond. Lin Yue felt it clearly now, unmistakable as the click of a lock turning.
A presence.
Not a voice.
But awareness.
Information flowed—not words, but instinctual understanding.
Shared Threat Sense — Activated
Condition: Mutual Fear / Successful Evasion
Lin Yue froze.
"What… was that?" he whispered.
The mark on his wrist pulsed faintly, then settled.
He stared at it, mind racing.
Abilities triggered by survival… not combat.
A chill ran through him—not fear this time, but awe.
The beast lifted its head weakly, its eye clearer than before. The twisted leg twitched, adjusting its angle slightly—not healed, but better aligned.
Adaptation.
Lin Yue swallowed hard.
"You saved us," he said quietly.
The beast made a soft sound, almost embarrassed.
Lin Yue exhaled slowly and leaned back against the rocks, exhaustion finally pulling at him. He didn't sleep deeply—but he slept enough.
For the first time since leaving the city, he woke to the pale light of dawn.
Alive.
The grasslands were silent again, as if the night had never happened. Lin Yue looked down at the beast in his arms and felt the bond respond—steady, present, real.
They were still weak.
Still hunted.
Still insignificant.
But now, they had something the world didn't recognize.
A way to sense danger.
A way to adapt.
A way to survive together.
Lin Yue rose carefully, tightening his robe.
"Let's keep moving," he whispered.
Because somewhere behind them, the world of tamers still believed strength was loud.
And somewhere ahead, a timid man and a broken beast were quietly learning how to stay alive—one cautious step at a time.