The descent was a blur of whistling wind and biting cold air. As the ground rushed up to meet him, the mysterious girl skillfully tilted her flying sword, bringing Alpha just a few feet above the jagged, dusty earth. Without warning, she sliced through the rope with a flick of her wrist.
Thud! Alpha hit the dirt hard. The impact jarred his bones and sent a searing, white-hot ache through his severed shoulder. He groaned, rolling onto his back, gasping for air as the dust settled in his lungs. For a moment, the world spun in dizzying circles.
"It's okay," he whispered to the empty air, his voice cracking. He looked up just in time to see her silhouette etched against the burning sun. "Thank you... for at least bringing me this far."
Without a word of farewell or a glance back, she vanished into the vast blue expanse like a streak of silver lightning. Alpha watched until she was nothing more than a speck, then a memory. He was truly alone now, a stranger in a world that felt like it was designed to kill him.
Struggling to his feet, Alpha used his one remaining hand to brush the grime off his tattered jeans and hoodie. He looked toward the horizon where the massive iron gates of the city loomed. They were like the jaws of some ancient titan, reinforced with heavy bolts and etched with glowing runes. This was it—his first step into a society that didn't even know his world existed.
As he approached the gate, his heart sank. Two towering guards stood at the entrance, their armor gleaming with a cold, predatory light. They weren't just letting anyone in; they were scrutinizing every face, checking for tokens of identity. Alpha slowed his pace, his eyes darting around. He had no papers, no gold, and no history here. He was a ghost walking into a fortress.
Suddenly, a commotion near the wall caught his attention. A group of wealthy-looking cultivators, dressed in fine silks, were laughing as they literally stepped over a group of dirt-covered mortals.
"Filthy insects!" one of the nobles spat, his boot grinding into a man's trembling hand. "Your lives are worth less than the dust on our robes. If you cannot cultivate, you are nothing but cattle. Move!"
The mortals didn't fight back. They only bowed deeper into the dirt, their eyes hollow with broken spirits. Alpha felt a cold chill run down his spine. This isn't like home, he realized with a sinking horror. Back home, there were laws, there was a sense of right and wrong. Here, strength isn't just an advantage—it's the only law. Survival for the weak is a slow, agonizing death. If I want to survive, I need knowledge. I need to understand the rules of this twisted game before I'm crushed under someone's boot.
High above, hidden within the clouds, Xiao Alya had paused. Her mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts. Khan... Alpha Khan... Why did that name trigger such a visceral reaction in her? She remembered the ancient legends whispered in the deepest, most guarded chambers of the Werewolf Clan—legends of a bloodline that was thought to be extinct, a bridge between the mortal realm and the heavens. He had come from that forbidden gate. He bore that name.
If there is even a sliver of a connection, I cannot let him perish in the gutters of this city, she reasoned, though her heart pounded for reasons she couldn't explain. With a sharp, decisive turn, she dived back toward the city, her sword cutting through the wind with a whistle.
Down at the gate, Alpha's turn had come. The guards lowered their heavy spears, the sharp, jagged tips resting mere centimeters from his chest.
"Halt! Identity token?" one of them barked, his voice like gravel.
Alpha froze, his breath hitching. "I... I don't have one. I am a traveler from afar. I lost everything in the mountains."
The guard narrowed his eyes, scanning Alpha's strange clothes—denim and cotton that looked like alien fabric to them. "A traveler? In these rags? Look at his arm... or what's left of it. You look like a spy or a cursed vagrant." They stepped closer, the cold steel of the spears now touching the skin of his neck. "Speak the truth, or we'll feed your remains to the hounds!"
Alpha's mind went blank. He had no excuse, no cover story that would make sense in this world. Just as the guards were about to haul him away into the dark cells of the gatehouse, a sudden, suffocating pressure descended from the sky.
"He is my guest."
The voice was like silk wrapped around a razor-sharp blade. The guards looked up and immediately turned pale, their bravado evaporating instantly. Xiao Alya descended on her shimmering sword, her presence radiating an undeniable authority that made the very air feel heavy.
The guards instantly retracted their spears and fell to their knees, their foreheads nearly touching the ground in a desperate show of submission. "P-Princess Alya! Please forgive our ignorance!" the lead guard stammered, his teeth chattering. "We did not know this... this gentleman was a guest of the Great Werewolf Clan. We were only doing our duty!"
Alya didn't even acknowledge them. She stepped off her sword and gestured for Alpha to follow. As they walked through the massive iron gates, the atmosphere changed. The city was a sprawling labyrinth of stone buildings, bustling markets filled with strange beasts, and floating pagodas that defied gravity. But Alpha was too conscious of the stares. His modern clothes were drawing eyes like a flare in the dark. People whispered, pointing at the "cripple" walking beside the Princess.
Alya stopped abruptly in front of a high-end clothier. "First, change those clothes," she commanded, her tone neutral but firm. "You draw too much attention, and it is the kind of attention that leads to a quick death."
Alpha looked down at his dusty sneakers. "I... I don't have any money. I have nothing to give you in return."
Alya sighed, a small flicker of something—perhaps pity, or perhaps deep-seated intrigue—flashed in her eyes. She walked into the shop and threw a heavy silk pouch filled with silver coins on the counter. Minutes later, Alpha emerged wearing traditional robes of deep charcoal and silver, tied with a sturdy leather belt.
Alya, who had been waiting outside, turned to speak, but the words died in her throat. Without the dirt and the blood-stained rags, Alpha's natural features were striking. His jawline was sharp and determined, his eyes held a depth of mystery that seemed far too old for his age, and even with one arm, he carried himself with a rugged, innate grace. She looked away quickly, her heart skipping a beat she refused to acknowledge.
"Better," she muttered. "Come. You need to eat before you collapse."
They sat in a secluded corner of an upscale restaurant, overlooking the city's inner sanctum. Alya watched him as he took in the sights. "Your arm," she started, her voice lower now, more serious. "In this world, being a cripple is usually a death sentence. But for you... there is hope. Our clan has ways. It can be restored, but it will require a breakthrough in your hidden meridians—something that should be impossible for someone without spiritual roots."
Alpha looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and gratitude. "Alya... thank you. For everything. If you don't mind me saying, your name is as beautiful as you are."
Alya stiffened, her cheeks tinged with a faint, rare pink, but she quickly regained her icy composure. "Don't flatter yourself, outsider. Flattery won't keep you alive. You need information, and I will only explain this once."
She leaned back, her eyes reflecting the dim light of the restaurant. "Listen carefully. This world is ruled by the Ten Great Clans that dominate the heavens. They control the resources, the land, and the very air we breathe. Among them, the three strongest are the Great Beast Clans: the Werewolf Clan, the Dragon Clan, and the Phoenix Clan. We carry the ancient blood of the primordials."
She continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Then there are the Seven Human Clans, who rely on their massive numbers and intricate cultivation techniques. Beside these ten, there are ancient Sects and Academies that even the clans hesitate to provoke. This world is a battlefield of constant power struggles. A single mistake can wipe an entire lineage off the map."
She leaned in, her gaze piercing into his soul. "Now, I have a decision for you to make. Will you come with me to the heart of the Werewolf Clan? There, your arm can be healed, and your true potential can be tested. But be warned—my people are not kind. It is not a place for the weak or the faint of heart."
Alpha hesitated. His mind raced through the possibilities. If I go, I'm walking into the lion's den. I don't know how they treat outsiders, especially ones who carry a name from their legends. But if I stay here, a one-armed man with no power, I'll be dead or enslaved before the week is out.
"I'll go," Alpha said, his voice steadying, a new fire igniting in his eyes. "But tell me... will I be punished there for being an outsider? For having no roots?"
Alya stood up, her silken cape fluttering behind her like the wings of a predator. "That depends entirely on you, Alpha Khan. In the Werewolf Clan, your first impression decides your future. If you act like a slave, you will be treated like one. If you act like a King... well, we shall see if you have the blood to back it up."