The wind brushed against the temple walls when Bai Feng, eyes narrowed, found a spot in the back wall that cr
A sliver of light escaped through loose stones — as if even the temple wanted to show him the way out.
"It's her
An Lian lo
"A crack? I thought monks had secret tunnels with jade doors and carved po
Bai Feng snorted, pushing harder until a narrow passage opened up.
"I told you — I'm the fakest monk alive. I don't even have a monk's tail, let alone a jade tunnel."
She raised an eyebrow, biting her lip to keep from laughing. The crack widened enough for Bai Feng to squeeze through first — his shoulders scraped damp stone.
On the other side, he reached out a hand to pull her through.
"Come on, Princess Mist. Before you turn to dust."
She took a deep breath, grabbed his hand, and went — but the hole was smaller than it looked.
When An Lian slipped through the gap, a loud RIP! echoed — the sound of fabric tearing.
She froze. Bai Feng's eyes widened — and he couldn't hold back his laugh.
"Haha! Now you're Princess Loose Thread?"
"Bai Feng!" she hissed, clutching the rip in her dress's side. "This is your fault! Don't laugh!"
He bit his sleeve to stifle it.
"Come on — tearing a dress is tradition when you're fleeing castles. I read it somewhere… I think."
She huffed, shoving his chest.
"Fake monk! Useless sweeper!"
"That's it!" He lifted a finger, triumphant. "Fake monk. You finally get it."
On the other side of the gap, a stone tunnel opened up — damp, too damp, with no torches, only the echo of wind slipping through cracks overhead.
"And now, Mister Guide?" An Lian crossed her arms, pressing the torn seam closed. "Swear this comes out in the village?"
Bai Feng shrugged.
"I swear it must come out somewhere. Probably dug by old monks who didn't want to pay toll at the gate."
She rolled her eyes.
"Fake monk. Doesn't even know what he's stepping on."
"I'm not a monk, remember? I'm Bai Feng — yard sweeper, hole finder."
They kept walking — one step at a time, feet slapping wet stone, the sound echoing like distant laughter.
An Lian sniffed the air with her nose wrinkled.
"Smells like rats."
"That's the perfume of the wind," he teased.
She poked his arm.
"You really are a lost cause."
"That's why not even the temple bothered to chain me down properly."
Suddenly, a sharp sound came from ahead — a deep scrape, like something clawing stone.
They both stopped. The air stopped too.
"What was that?" An Lian whispered, her face pale in the dim light.
Bai Feng tilted his head, listening. The sound came again — a low growl, like a starving beast's purr.
He breathed out.
"I think that's the gate of freedom."
"A gate that growls?"
"Or there's a monster there." He half-grinned. "If we keep walking, we'll find out."
She tapped his forehead lightly.
"You really don't know ANYTHING, do you? No beast, no tunnel, no exit!"
Bai Feng jabbed a thumb at his chest.
"Fake monk, princess. Fake monk."
She sighed, but couldn't hold back a nervous smile.
"Fine… then you go first. If the monster shows up, it eats you first."
"Fair." Bai Feng stepped ahead, raising his hand like a warrior with no sword. "If I disappear, go back and be Princess Barrel again."
She laughed under her breath, fear hidden behind it.
With every step, the tunnel felt wetter — drops dripped from stone cracks, forming puddles that reflected invisible lanterns. But Bai Feng carried no lantern — only the instinct of someone who learned to walk in the dark with rats and wind.
"Careful not to slip, Princess Turnip," he whispered, grinning when he heard her indignant hiss.
"Stop calling me that!" An Lian hissed back. "And I'm light as mist, remember? You're the one stomping like a pig in mud."
Bai Feng glanced over his shoulder — the faint light from the crack behind them lit up the bigger rip in her dress's hem.
"Keep arguing, and you'll rip it all the way."
She clutched the torn edge dramatically.
"If it rips all the way, I'm wearing your fake monk clothes!"
"Then you'll have to steal Fa Xian's. He won't like seeing a princess stealing his pants."
She let out a short laugh — but quickly covered her mouth when a DEEP RUMBLE vibrated through the stone ceiling.
They froze together — the sound echoed like the cave itself was breathing.
"Bai Feng…" she murmured, squeezing his arm. "What was that?"
He pretended to think, knocking his fist into his palm.
"Probably a wild boar. Or a lizard. Or a small dragon."
"DRAGON?!" Her eyes went wide as she slapped his chest. "Are you kidding me?!"
Bai Feng raised his hands.
"It's the wind that jokes. I just follow it."
A cold draft swept toward them — and with it, another scratchy growl. An Lian pressed herself behind him.
"Why are you in front? Go slower!"
"If I go slow, it comes. If I go fast, maybe it won't." He edged sideways, feeling the damp wall.
The tunnel opened into a stone chamber, wide enough to hold twenty kneeling monks. But no monks here — only claw marks, holes in the walls, and a sour stench of something that hadn't seen sunlight in years.
"There you go," Bai Feng said, spreading his arms. "Our gate out: dragon cave, claw hall, or passage to more trouble."
An Lian gave him a weak shove.
"If you were a real monk, you'd know prayers to scare monsters away!"
"Praying's not my thing," he chuckled. "But I do know how to swing a broom."
She snorted.
"Gonna sweep the dragon, Bai Feng?"
He raised his fist.
"If it doesn't run, I'll sweep it, yeah."
A crack sounded in the darkest corner — two eyes glowed with wet green light. Like lanterns buried in stone.
An Lian grabbed his arm again.
"Bai Feng…"
He breathed deep, leaned his forehead to hers — almost laughing.
"If you run, run straight. If you trip, trip far from me."
She clicked her tongue.
"You're impossible!"
He winked.
"And you're stubborn. Let's go."
He pulled her hand gently — together they edged around the chamber, stepping between fallen rocks and claw marks. The beast — whatever it was — growled again but didn't leave the shadows. Maybe it slept. Maybe it waited. Maybe it was the wind itself, playing at scaring two runaways.
An Lian pressed her mouth to his ear.
"If we get out alive, I'm never coming back to this temple."
Bai Feng laughed softly, eyes on the corridor ahead, swallowing darkness.
"If we get out alive, I'm never sweeping a courtyard again."
She laughed too — their laughter echoing through the cave's belly, mixing with the distant growl.
A step.
Another. Then…
The cave's mouth appeared — a slit of gray light, filtering the smell of damp trees and dead leaves. Bai Feng picked up his pace, still clutching An Lian's hand as she panted behind him.
"There!" she pointed, eyes bright like she was seeing the world for the first time. "We're almost—!"
But the sound from the dark cut her words — a rumble, deep as choked thunder, followed by a dry scrape of claws on stone.
They stopped together.
The shadow moved — a low, broad shape, ribs showing, fur like moldy straw.
The eyes — two living lanterns, fixed on them.
The beast stepped forward once, then again. Its tail slapped the wall, knocking loose chunks of rock. A roar tore through the tunnel, echoing all the way to the exit.
An Lian swallowed, pressed against Bai Feng's shoulder.
"Bai Feng… Bai Feng… it's… it's a wild tiger…!"
Bai Feng clenched his fist. The air inside him spun — a wind spark burning in his gut.
"It's not just a tiger," he murmured. "Look at the paws… the eyes… that thing chews up hunters for breakfast."
The tiger took another step — now the light caught its face. Fangs long and curved, drooling thick spit. But what froze Bai Feng's chest was the mark — a faint glow on the beast's forehead: gray symbols pulsing like living roots.
A Demon Beast — power of a cultivator in the Primordial Root, like his own.
An Lian blinked, lips trembling.
"That… that's a Demon…! A demon tiger! You… you really ARE a fake monk, aren't you?!"
Bai Feng didn't answer. The wind blew through his ribs — an invisible wolf pacing his bones and veins. He stepped in front of her, feet planted in the damp floor.
"Head for the light," he said, not turning his head. "Run, Princess Mist."
She clutched his sleeve.
"And you?! You'll get eaten alone?!"
Bai Feng breathed — his chest filled, the breeze inside him let out a silent howl.
"If I fall, the wind takes what's left. Now GO!"
He shoved An Lian toward the passage. She stumbled but got up — looked back one last time, eyes wide, a mix of fear and promise. Then she ran.
The demon tiger roared — its mouth opened wide, showing ivory fangs stained with moss. It lunged.
Bai Feng rolled aside — the impact cracked the stone behind him like dry bone. Dust fell. The beast turned, growling low, shoulders bunched like bowstrings.
Bai Feng raised his left hand — a pale blue swirl danced from his fingers to his chest. Behind him, in the damp air, a translucent shadow took shape — tails waving like banners in a forgotten temple.
The Wind Fox opened its eyes — two points of clear light, alive, hungry.
"Come on then…" Bai Feng whispered, the wind brushing his fists. "The wind bites too."
The tiger growled, drool dripping in thick threads. It lunged again — a blur of claws, fangs, muscle.
Bai Feng spun — the Wind Fox roared with him. Air twisted, slammed the tiger aside — but the beast was heavy, slammed the wall, bounced, ready to strike again.
A claw tore Bai Feng's sleeve — blood splattered on the stone. He didn't flinch. The wind spun in him, rose through his throat — a whistle of thunder, the Fox swelling, tails flicking around the tiger.
The beast pulled back, sniffing blood, paws scraping the floor, sharpening claws.
Bai Feng bent his knees — his chest rose and fell like a bellows. His eyes — half wild, half calm.
"Come, cave king…" he murmured, tasting iron in his mouth. "Come taste my wind."
The tiger pounced.
The wind exploded.
And the cave filled with mixed roars — beast and breeze, claws and tails, stone trembling, echoes of what was yet to come.
The tiger lunged — a blur of claws and fangs, roaring so loud the stone vibrated like drumskin.
Bai Feng twisted on the damp floor, dodged the blow that shredded a block of rock like rotten paper.
The Wind Fox coiled behind him — its tails slashed the air like invisible blades.
The tiger roared again — demon marks pulsing on its forehead, sickly purple.
Its tail cracked the ground, splitting stone.
Bai Feng felt the wind slice his skin — a cut opened on his thigh, hot, burning.
He sucked in the air — eyes narrowed, breath a deep whistle.
The Fox grew — its tails wrapped around the tiger, slowing it down.
The beast snarled, pulled back, but the air clung to its muscles, draining strength.
Bai Feng stepped forward.
Then another step.
A flicker of memory — the Abbot's voice: "While the void exists, the wind blows."
He clenched his fist.
One of the Fox's tails fused to his arm — a pale blue glow, pulsing.
The tiger lunged for a final strike, mouth open, breath rank and hot.
Bai Feng yelled — dry, tearing his throat — and punched the air at the tiger's chest.
The wind exploded — an invisible battering ram smashed through the beast's ribs.
A crack.
Then another.
The tiger howled — a twisted roar, half-growl, half-whimper, mixing pain and rage.
Its body arched, slammed the wall — dropped, claws scraping stone for balance.
The Wind Fox floated behind Bai Feng — tails flickering like torches in a storm.
He breathed deep, stepped forward — chest heaving, each step a muffled thunder.
The tiger let out a final weak growl — eyes dimming like coals in rain.
With one sharp blow, Bai Feng drove his fist into the beast's chest.
A gray flash — a fist-sized light — flared between its ribs.
The Demon Orb.
Bai Feng pulled — heat burned his palm, but he held on.
When he ripped it free, the tiger's body shuddered, sighed one last time — then lay still.
Silence filled the cave — the wind's whisper returned, breathing with him.
In Bai Feng's hand, the Orb pulsed — faint, alive, raw power.
He looked at it — a flame inside stone.
A trophy. A warning.
And another step on the road the wind carried him down.
Outside, distant voices — the Princess's shout, guards closing in.
But inside, only Bai Feng, the Fox — and the certainty that, this time, the wind didn't carry him.
He made the wind bite back.