The sea was calm.
Too calm.
Yuchen stood on the black sand beach, watching as the last of the awakened children waded into the surf. They moved without hesitation, their silver eyes fixed on the horizon, their small hands clasped together. The ocean welcomed them—gentle waves lapping at their ankles, then their knees, as if guiding them home.
Song Lihua lingered at the water's edge. She turned back once, her galaxy-swirled eyes meeting Yuchen's.
No words passed between them.
None were needed.
Then she, too, stepped into the waves—and the sea swallowed her whole.
Xing let out a soft whine, pressing his muzzle against Yuchen's palm.
"I know," Yuchen murmured, scratching behind the pup's ears. "Me too."
Behind him, the Wandering Tide's engines hummed as Vera and Lucien made final preparations. The war was over—at least, this part of it. But the world kept turning.
And they all had their own paths to walk.
Vera Sutherland wasn't one for sentiment.
She shoved a crate of supplies into Yuchen's arms, her mechanical fingers denting the metal. "Don't get yourself killed before we meet again."
Yuchen smirked. "Was that a 'I'll miss you'?"
"It was a 'don't be an idiot.'" She punched his shoulder, then hesitated. "The offer stands, you know. Sutherland could use someone with your… talents."
He shook his head. "I have to go home."
Vera snorted. "Since when do wasteland rats have homes?"
But there was no bite in it.
Lucien's farewell was more theatrical. He clasped Yuchen's hand, Versailles fluttering her wings dramatically from his shoulder. "The Valois will be watching. And when the time comes—"
"You'll be there to take credit?"
"Naturally." Lucien grinned, then grew uncharacteristically serious. "They won't stop, you know. Wei-Xing. The others. The children may be gone, but the hunger for their power remains."
Yuchen's grip tightened. "Then we'll be ready."
Xing barked his agreement.
The skiff to Beijing left at dawn.
The Luo Dynasty's capital hadn't changed.
That was the first thing Yuchen noticed as the skiff descended through the smog-choked sky. The fortress spires still pierced the clouds. The gardens still bloomed in meticulous, weaponized beauty. Even the servants' whispers were the same—the young master returns, the wasteland heir, the boy who burned a Titan with his bare hands.
Jiang spat over the railing as they landed. "Never thought I'd miss this place."
Xing sneezed at the scent of artificial lotus blossoms.
Yuchen said nothing.
The elders were waiting.
The ancestral hall smelled of incense and old parchment.
Luo Jinhai sat at the head of the carved obsidian table, his face unreadable. The family elders flanked him—some curious, some wary, all watching Yuchen with the intensity of vultures circling wounded prey.
Yuchen knelt.
Then he told them everything.
The Titan facilities. The awakened children. The deal with the Abyss.
And, finally—
"Wei-Xing's research was based on stolen Luo Dynasty blueprints."
The silence was absolute.
Then Elder Wu, the oldest and most venomous of the council, slammed his cane against the floor. "Preposterous! Our family would never—"
"Enough." Jinhai's voice cut like a blade. He didn't raise it. He didn't need to.
The elder shriveled back into his seat.
Jinhai studied Yuchen for a long moment. "You let them go."
Not a question.
A statement.
Yuchen met his grandfather's gaze. "They weren't weapons. They were children."
A murmur rippled through the elders.
Jinhai leaned forward. "And the Abyss?"
"It remembers." Yuchen's fingers curled into Xing's fur. "And it's watching."
The implications hung heavy in the air.
The Luo Dynasty had survived by being the smartest predator in a world of monsters.
But now the monsters had taken sides.
The punishment came at dusk.
Not chains. Not a cell.
A title.
"You will take your father's seat on the war council," Jinhai said, standing at the balcony overlooking the city. "Effective immediately."
Yuchen stiffened. "That's not a reward."
"No." Jinhai's smile was razor-thin. "It's a leash."
The message was clear.
The Luo heir had grown too powerful. Too unpredictable.
So they would bind him with duty.
With legacy.
Xing growled low in his throat.
Yuchen exhaled.
Then bowed.
"As you command."
The war council chambers were exactly as Yuchen remembered—cold, gleaming, and steeped in bloodstained history. The maps on the walls showed troop movements, resource allocations, the delicate dance of power between factions.
And in the corner, nearly forgotten, a single red pin marking a stretch of empty ocean.
Where the Abyss slept.
Where the children walked.
Jiang clapped a hand on Yuchen's shoulder. "First rule of politics, kid: never let them see you flinch."
Yuchen touched the pin.
"Second rule?"
Jiang grinned.
"Always know where the exits are."
The ancestral archives of the Luo family smelled of sandalwood and slow decay. Scrolls older than the Collapse lined the vaulted shelves, their silk bindings fraying at the edges. Yuchen ran his fingers along one particularly ancient-looking text, its title barely legible: "十家轮治录"— The Record of Ten Families' Rotating Rule.
Xing sneezed at the dust, his claws clicking against the marble floor as he sniffed along the shelves.
"You're late."
The voice came from the shadows. Elder Wu emerged like a specter, his bone-white cane tapping a slow rhythm against the stone. His milky left eye—lost decades ago in the first Wei-Xing wars—gleamed with cold amusement.
"The council convened an hour ago," the old man said. "Your grandfather's patience wears thin."
Yuchen didn't flinch. "Then let's not keep him waiting."
The walk to the Hall of Ancestral Judgment took them through the heart of the Luo compound. Servants bowed as they passed, their eyes averted. Yuchen noted the packed crates lining the corridors, the ceremonial weapons being carefully wrapped in silk.
Preparations for departure.
For demotion.
The Hall was not what Yuchen expected.
Instead of the usual semicircle of Luo elders, ten obsidian chairs stood arranged in a perfect ring. Nine were occupied by men and women whose very postures screamed power—the visiting heads of the other great families.
And at the northernmost seat, Luo Jinhai sat like an emperor holding court.
"Ah," said a broad-shouldered man with a dragon tattoo curling up his neck—Long Tian, patriarch of the Fuzhou Long family. "The prodigal heir returns."
A woman in snow-leopard furs—Bai Xue of Harbin—studied Yuchen with predator's eyes. "Does he know?"
Jinhai steepled his fingers. "He will."
Then the ritual began.
"Beijing was never ours."
Jinhai's words hung in the incense-thick air. A hologram flickered to life above the central dais, showing the city's skyline in the early days after the Collapse.
"When the first beasts awakened, when the old government fell, the ten great lineages made a covenant." The image shifted—ten sigils forming a circle: the Long dragon, the Bai snow leopard, the Zhang twin serpents, the Chen firebird , the Xu wolf, the Tang spider, the Zhao tiger, the Li crane, the Cao tortoise, and finally, the Luo phoenix.
"No single family would claim the capital. Instead, rulership would rotate every five years." Jinhai's gaze pinned Yuchen in place. "Our term ends at the next new moon."
Yuchen's fingers tightened around Xing's ruff. "And if a family refuses to relinquish power?"
A dry chuckle came from the Zhao patriarch, his tiger-eye ring glinting as he stroked his beard. "Then the other nine unite to remove them. As happened to the Sun family in 2035."
The unspoken threat lingered.
The Luo Dynasty was powerful.
But not invincible.
The real negotiations began after the formalities.
In the private gardens where the holograms couldn't eavesdrop, amidst the genetically enhanced peonies that bloomed black with gold veins, the family heads circled each other like wolves.
"Your grandson made quite the mess," murmured Cao Yun, her tortoise sigil ring clicking against her teacup. "Destroying Wei-Xing facilities. Freezing their assets. And that business with the Abyss..."
Jinhai sipped his tea. "He ended a war."
"Or started a new one," countered Tang Liling, her spider-silk robes shimmering. "Those awakened children are loose cannons. What happens when they decide we're the enemy?"
Yuchen felt their eyes on him—calculating, weighing.
Xing bared his teeth at the Tang heir when he drifted too close.
"The children aren't your concern," Yuchen said quietly.
"Everything in China is our concern," snapped Zhang Wei, his twin serpent bracers hissing as the living vipers stirred.
A hand fell on Yuchen's shoulder.
"What my grandson means," Jinhai said, his grip just shy of painful, "is that the awakened have withdrawn. For now."
The Xu patriarch—a grizzled warlord with a cybernetic eye—leaned forward. "And the Abyss?"
Yuchen met his gaze. "It remembers."
The garden fell silent but for the whisper of leaves.
That night, in the privacy of the heir's chambers, Jiang laid out the truth like a surgeon exposing a wound.
"The Long family takes over next month," the old engineer muttered, holographic dossiers spreading across the low table. "They've already made deals with the Cao and Zhang to support their policies."
Yuchen studied the files. Trade routes. Military allocations. Marriage contracts.
"They're isolating us."
Jiang snorted. "Smart kid. Long Tian's wanted our northern mines for decades."
Xing growled at a particular image—Long Tian's son, Long Fei, a handsome brute with a reputation for "collecting" rare beasts.
Yuchen's stomach turned. "He wouldn't dare."
"He would," said a new voice.
Luo Jinhai stood in the doorway, his shadow stretching long across the floor. "Which is why we leave nothing of value behind."
The plans he unfurled were breathtaking in their audacity.
Empty armories. Disabled research facilities. Even the black peonies would be burned—their genetic codes erased from the Luo databases.
A scorched earth policy.
"They'll call it treason," Yuchen breathed.
Jinhai's smile was a blade. "Only if they prove it."
The farewell banquet was a masterpiece of political theater.
Course after course of extravagant dishes—shark fin dumplings, peacock-lantern soup, even a whole roasted tiger—were served under the watchful eyes of the ten family banners.
Yuchen played his part perfectly.
The humble heir. The grateful student.
The loser.
He toasted Long Fei with honeyed words and sharper wine.
"To new beginnings," Yuchen said, watching the other man's pupils dilate as the drug-laced vintage took effect.
By midnight, Long Fei was babbling secrets to the Tang heir's amused delight.
By dawn, the Luo family's most sensitive assets were already rolling west toward Lanzhou.
And in the shadows between, Yuchen stood at the highest balcony, watching the city his family had ruled for five years.
"Regrets?" Jiang asked, joining him.
Yuchen thought of the awakened children walking into the sea.
Of the Abyss watching.
Of the game just beginning.
"Not one."
The Luo caravan stretched nearly a kilometer along the abandoned Highway G6, a serpent of armored vehicles and horse-drawn artillery pieces winding through the skeletal remains of pre-Collapse civilization. Yuchen rode at the center astride a genetically enhanced Mongolian steed, its obsidian-black coat shimmering with embedded nano-armor. Xing loped alongside, his silver-marked fur bristling at every unfamiliar scent.
Three days out from Beijing, and the land had already changed. The endless urban sprawl gave way to radiation-scarred farmland, then to the cracked earth of the Hexi Corridor where mutated cacti grew as tall as buildings.
Jiang spat over the side of his mechanized rickshaw. "Should've burned that damned city on our way out."
Ahead, the vanguard signaled a halt.
Trouble.
The first shot took out the lead scout's helmet cam.
Yuchen saw it all in fragmented flashes:
- The ruined gas station exploding in a fireball
- Shadows moving through the skeletal remains of an old truck stop
- The distinctive hiss-crack of Long family sonic rifles
"Ambush! Form defensive perimeter!"
The Luo guards moved with drilled precision, turning supply crates into barricades, their plasma rifles humming to life. But the attackers weren't aiming to kill.
They were after the cargo.
A six-man strike team in grey stealth suits breached the central caravan, their movements synchronized like a pack of wolves. Yuchen recognized the flowing, acrobatic style—Long family "Wind Walkers," their elite saboteurs.
Xing moved before Yuchen could shout a warning.
The pup's silver markings flared as he leapt, his body twisting mid-air to avoid a sonic blade. His claws found a Wind Walker's throat.
Then the screaming started.
Not from the dying man.
From Xing.
The pup's howl shook the battlefield, a sound too deep, too resonant for his size. The very air vibrated with it, sending cracks spiderwebbing through nearby concrete.
The Long family agents clutched their ears, blood trickling from their noses.
Yuchen didn't hesitate.
Three shots.
Three dead saboteurs.
The remaining Wind Walkers fled into the wasteland.
Xing collapsed, his fur matted with sweat, his breathing ragged. The silver circuits along his spine pulsed erratically.
Jiang cursed as he ran diagnostics with a battered scanner. "Some sort of forced evolution trigger. That sonic weapon must've—"
"No." A new voice cut through the chaos.
Luo Jinhai stood over them, his traveling cloak dusted with ash. In his hands, an ancient-looking scroll case marked with the Luo phoenix.
"This was always meant to happen," the old man said quietly. "The day we found him in the wastelands, I knew."
Yuchen's blood ran cold. "Knew what?"
Jinhai unsealed the scroll, revealing a pre-Collapse genetic map. At its center, a creature that made Xing look like a puppy—a massive wolf-like beast with crystalline fur and eyes like molten gold.
"Project Celestial Hound," Jinhai read. "Last successful hybrid before the Collapse. Part Arctic wolf, part something older. The researchers called it 'Fenrir's Kin.'"
Xing whimpered, his body shuddering.
Yuchen's hands tightened around him. "You're saying he's—"
"One of the last true S-rank beasts," Jinhai confirmed. "And until today, dormant."
The implications hung heavy in the air.
The Long family hadn't just attacked a political rival.
They'd awakened a living weapon.
They buried seven Luo guards that night.
The funeral pyres burned blue with enhanced plasma, their smoke curling into the star-flecked sky. Yuchen stood vigil long after the others had retreated to their tents, Xing curled at his feet.
The pup's breathing had steadied, but the silver markings still glowed faintly—like embers waiting to flare.
"He'll need training."
Yuchen didn't turn as Jiang approached, two bottles of baijiu in hand. The old engineer settled onto the rock beside him, passing one over.
"Training?" Yuchen took a burning swallow. "Or control?"
Jiang's smile was all teeth. "Same thing, kid."
They drank in silence for a while, watching the embers rise.
Then—
"The Long family won't stop," Jiang said at last. "Now that they know about Xing..."
Yuchen's fingers found the pup's ruff. "Let them come."
Somewhere in the distance, a mutated hawk screamed.
Closer, much closer, something answered.
Not a scream.
A challenge.
Xing's ears pricked forward, his golden eyes reflecting the flames.
For the first time, Yuchen saw it—the intelligence there, the ancient knowing.
The beast remembering what it was.
Dawn found the caravan moving again, slower now, more wary. Scouts ranged farther ahead. Lookouts manned the artillery nests.
And at the center, surrounded by the most trusted Luo retainers, Xing walked with his head high, his gait steadier than it had ever been.
The children whispered as he passed.
"Look at his eyes..."
"They say he tore a Wind Walker in half with his teeth..."
"Grandfather says he's blessed by the old gods..."
Jinhai rode at the front, his posture straighter than it had been in years. The message was clear to anyone who knew how to look:
The Luo Dynasty might be leaving Beijing.
But they were far from defeated.
Yuchen watched it all from his saddle, a new weight settling across his shoulders. Not just an heir anymore.
A handler.
A guardian.
The boy who walked with monsters.
The ruins of Jiayuguan Fortress rose from the desert like the bones of a long-dead giant. Sand-scoured battlements stretched along the Hexi Corridor, where the Great Wall had once stood guard against ancient invaders. Now, only mutated hawks and the occasional scavenger braved this stretch of wasteland.
Yuchen wiped grit from his eyes as the caravan halted beneath the fortress' crumbling shadow. The air here tasted of rust and ozone—a lingering effect from the Collapse-era battles that had scoured the land.
"We'll camp here tonight," Jinhai announced, dismounting with a grunt. "The final push to Lanzhou begins at dawn."
Xing circled the perimeter, his nose working overtime. The pup had grown nearly a full hand taller since the ambush, his silver markings pulsing faintly even at rest. Now, he paused by a particular stretch of rubble, his hackles rising.
Yuchen didn't need words. He drew his pistol.
The attack came from below.
The ground erupted in a shower of sand and shattered concrete. Six figures clad in irradiated dust suits burst forth, their weapons humming with the distinctive resonance of Long family sonic tech. But these weren't Wind Walkers—their movements were jerky, their eyes wild behind cracked visors.
"Mercenaries!" Jiang barked, already firing. "Sand rats!"
Plasma bolts lit the dusk as Luo guards returned fire. One attacker went down screaming, his suit melting into his flesh. Another lunged at Yuchen with a vibro-blade—only to choke as Xing's jaws closed around his throat.
The remaining four didn't retreat.
They detonated.
The concussive wave threw Yuchen back ten meters. His armor absorbed the worst, but his vision swam as he struggled to his knees. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Jinhai roaring orders.
"Seismic charges! They're tunneling under—"
The ground trembled. Then the ancient fortress itself began to sink, its foundations collapsing into a freshly dug network of tunnels.
A trap.
And they'd walked right into it.
The dust hadn't settled when the second wave hit.
Figures emerged from the newly exposed tunnels—not mercenaries this time, but something worse. Tall, emaciated humans with too-long limbs and eyes that reflected light like a cat's. The Sand People, descendants of those who'd fled underground during the Collapse.
And they weren't alone.
At their center stood a familiar figure in a tattered Long family uniform.
"Cousin!" Long Fei spread his arms in mock welcome, his once-handsome face now marred by radiation burns. "Did you really think we'd let you reach Lanzhou with that?" His bloodshot eyes fixed on Xing.
Yuchen spat blood. "You're a long way from daddy's palace, Fei."
The Sand People hissed, raising their makeshift weapons—railgun spears cobbled from pre-Collapse debris.
Jiang's hand signal was subtle—three fingers against his thigh. Prepare to retreat.
Then Xing howled.
The sound shook the ruins, sending fresh cascades of stone tumbling. But it wasn't just noise—the very frequency made the Sand People clutch their heads, their elongated limbs twitching uncontrollably.
Long Fei stumbled back. "Kill the beast! Now!"
A railgun charged.
Yuchen moved.
His combat knife found the shooter's eye before the trigger could be pulled.
"Run!" Jiang grabbed Jinhai's arm, dragging the old man toward the remaining vehicles. "That howl's brought the whole damn desert down on us!"
The ground trembled again—but not from explosives. Something bigger moved beneath the sand.
They called it Dune Mother.
A Collapse-era horror, one of the first creatures mutated by the radiation—a segmented worm the size of a subway train, its maw lined with rotating teeth of fused human bone.
It erupted from the desert in a spray of grit and corpse-stench, swallowing three Sand People whole before they could scream.
Long Fei's mercenaries broke ranks, fleeing into the tunnels. Their leader hesitated just long enough to lock eyes with Yuchen.
"This isn't over, Luo."
Then the worm came for him.
Yuchen didn't wait to see the outcome. He grabbed Xing's ruff and ran.
Dawn found the remnants of the caravan twenty kilometers west, their numbers halved, their supplies gutted.
Jinhai surveyed the survivors from atop a crippled transport, his face unreadable. "The Long family will pay for this."
Yuchen said nothing. He tended to Xing's wounds, the pup's breathing labored after unleashing that devastating howl. The silver markings had dimmed, but something in the creature's golden eyes had changed—something deeper, more aware.
Jiang dropped beside them, his mechanical leg sparking. "Bad news. Scouts say the main road's crawling with Long family patrols."
"Then we go underground," Yuchen said.
Jinhai raised an eyebrow.
Yuchen unfolded a pre-Collapse survey map, pointing to a faded red line. "The Lanzhou Metro. Runs straight to our ancestral gates."
"That tomb's been sealed since the Collapse," Jiang growled.
Xing lifted his head, sniffing the air. His rumble was unmistakable.
I know the way.
The metro entrance was a yawning mouth of shattered concrete, its escalators long since collapsed into a debris-choked slope. The survivors descended by rope, their glowsticks casting eerie green light on bones picked clean by generations of scavengers.
Jiang's scanner flickered. "Radiation's low, but watch for—"
A skittering sound cut him off.
Hundreds of eyes reflected in the darkness.
Not human.
Not anymore.
Xing stepped forward, his markings flaring silver. The creatures—rat-like things with too many legs—screeched and retreated into the tunnels.
Jinhai exhaled sharply. "Remind me to have that beast blessed when we reach Lanzhou."
Yuchen stroked Xing's ears. "He already is."
The long march through the underworld began.