The air between them fractured.
When the prince's hand met the black aura leaking from Lei Ze's skin, the reaction wasn't a touch; it was an expulsion. The shockwave hit like a physical weight, tossing the bone-king back into the murk and sending Ying Hua skidding across the dirt.
Lei Ze stood his ground, though his boots carved ruts in the earth. He wiped a smear of copper from the corner of his mouth. In his palm, the dark Qi didn't just glow, it vibrated, a low, hungry hum that made the surrounding atmosphere feel thin. He closed his fist, crushing the sensation.
The smoke shifted. The king approached again, his movements heavy. There was no aggression left in him, only a hollow, searching look.
"You know my father?" the king asked. He spoke to Lei Ze, but he was looking at the vessel.
Lei Ze let out a jagged breath. "He's the one who did this. Planted the core. A gift, he called it."
The demon prince went still. He reached out, his long fingers hovering just over Lei Ze's heart. He didn't strike. He listened.
There was no frantic rhythm, no tremor of a failing host. Just a steady, cold pulse. The king tilted his head, the purple smoke receding further to reveal features that were unsettlingly human and far too beautiful for a graveyard.
"Where is he?"
"He transferred his essence," Lei Ze said.
"He's in here."
The prince nodded once. It was a sharp, clinical movement. He turned away without a word, his silken robes trailing through the ash of the scavengers. Lei Ze watched him, the frustration gnawing at his gut. He hadn't expected a son. He hadn't expected the dead to have heirs.
The king paused at the treeline, glancing back over a sharp shoulder. "You call me Kūn Xiū."
Lei Ze felt a ghost of a smile pull at his mouth. A backup. Maybe. "I'm Lei Ze."
"Hope we meet again, Lei Ze."
The smoke swallowed him. Then, there was only the wind.
Ying Hua stared at the empty space, her hands still clutching her sleeves. "Lei Ze," she murmured, testing the weight of it. "It's a good name."
Lei Ze didn't answer. He was already walking, his pace set for the City of Iron Shadows. He didn't look back to see if she was following. He didn't have the luxury of hesitation.
Ying Hua stood in the silence of the clearing.
She looked at the path she'd come from, then at the blue robe disappearing into the thicket. Her pride was a heavy thing, a wall she'd built over years, but the forest was larger. She bit her lip, shoved her shyness into a dark corner of her mind, and realized he wasn't stopping.
"Are you coming?" his voice drifted back, muffled by the distance.
Her heart gave a single, sharp thud. She didn't shout back. She just ran, her silk slippers snapping twigs until she caught up to his shadow.
An hour in, the forest felt like it was swallowing them. Ying Hua was dragging.
Her hand was clamped onto Lei Ze's sleeve, her weight pulling his shoulder down as her steps grew heavy. The canopy was a solid ceiling of black now, the moon unable to bite through.
She spotted a break in the trees, a patch of bare, dry earth. She let go of his arm and scrambled toward it.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Lei Ze called out, his voice tight. "We're losing time."
She didn't listen. She was already striking flint, a small fire blooming against the dark.
She was hungry, and hunger was a louder motivator than his schedule. A rustle in the high grass caught her ear. A mountain rat, bloated and slow, scurried into the light. It was blind with its own scavenged hunger.
Ying Hua didn't blink. A flick of emerald Qi hissed through the air, pinning the vermin to the dirt. She skewered it on a stripped branch and leaned it over the flames.
Lei Ze stood at the edge of the light, his jaw set. He turned to go.
"This is a big one," Ying Hua said to the fire, her voice loud and overly casual. "I don't think I can finish it all."
Lei Ze's stomach betrayed him with a loud, hollow growl. He froze. He took one step into the dark, then another, trying to ignore the scent of searing fat hitting the embers.
Ying Hua lifted the stick, spinning it. The aroma drifted, thick and savory, catching the back of his throat.
Lei Ze stopped. He looked at his hand, then at the dark woods ahead. The hunger won.
"Fine," he muttered, trudging back to the fire. "I'll stay."
Ying Hua didn't smirk, but her eyes brightened. She tore the meat in half and handed him a portion on a leaf. "Whatever," she said, her voice dripping with forced indifference.
"Thanks."
They sat in silence, the crackle of the wood the only sound between them. Lei Ze raised the meat to his mouth, his eyes closing as he prepared for the first bite.
He bit down on nothing but wood.
The meat was gone.
A creature sat on a rock three paces away. It looked like a monkey washed in bone-white fur, with ears as round as a bear's and eyes like blue glass. It held Lei Ze's dinner in its tiny, clawed hands.
"Hey! Thief!" Lei Ze surged to his feet.
He reached for the creature, but Ying Hua caught his wrist. She shook her head, pulling him back. She broke her own portion in two.
"Share mine."
Lei Ze felt the heat rise in his neck. Sharing a girl's meal because a monkey robbed him? No. He shook her off and walked toward the white beast.
"Hey. Little monkey. Give it back."
The creature didn't run. It opened its mouth, revealing rows of teeth that were far too large for its skull.
"A small beast with big teeth," Lei Ze noted, unimpressed. He reached out with both hands, cooing at it like a stray dog. "Come on, cute little thing..."
The creature didn't coo back. It groaned.
The sound was deep, a tectonic rumble that shook the stones. Its body began to swell, fur bristling as its muscles expanded ten-fold. In seconds, the "cute monkey" was a towering hybrid of a frost bear and a mountain ape, its shadow swallowing the campfire.
"Oh," Lei Ze whispered, looking up at the wall of white fur. "It's a Bīng-Yán."
The beast dropped the meat. It didn't want the food anymore. It wanted the intruder.