Dawn mist clung to the Frostmoss Tundra like unrendered bear fat, -40°C bitterness seeping into mine shafts. Xu Qing crouched beneath new scaffolding, claws scoring frozen oxhide ropes - grip strength tripled in three days, now crushing ice chunks barehanded. His fingertips detected pine-tar residue from Graybear caravans.
"Whitefang! Graybear sled trains approach!" Snowclaw stumbled in, darkfire-lensed goggles frosted. "Thirty sleds hauling Minotaur Empire iron crates! Fifty iron-scale mercenaries!"
Xu Qing's pupils narrowed to slits. Black-market convoy memories from his Middle Eastern past sharpened. He retrieved his trade route map (bear-grease on reindeer hide), fingertip pausing at "Frostmist Marsh." "Tell Elder: gather warriors at Thaw Pass. Elders mix darkfire powder into snow berms along swamp edges."
Snowclaw blinked. "But caravan takes southwest trade route—"
"They'll detour." Xu Qing's voice held glacial certainty, white-tipped ears twitching in fog. "Ironblood's payroll in those crates. They'll avoid Wolf Clan's southern routes for Thaw Pass... and its venomspider nests." Removing goggles revealed azure-lit eyes. "Reindeer dung masks. Spiders track bear-scent."
Noon at Thaw Pass. Thirty sleds cracked thin ice, crate-clatter scattering snow owls. Graybear leader Goldscale fondled his gilt dagger, eyeing sudden blue-glazed snowdrifts - darkfire ore's natural barrier duplicated.
"Halt!" The berm collapsed. Darkfire-laced snow buried mercenaries. Blue powder seeped iron-scale joints sizzling - Xu Qing's "scorch-powder" (darkfire shards + wolfsbane) engineered against Minotaur armor.
"Ambush!" Mercenary captain's blade half-drawn when dinner-plate-sized frostspiders emerged. Icewebbed cables entangled armored limbs - Xu Qing's dung-soaked lure herbs drawing spiders while bear warriors stood invisible.
"Loose!" Ironclaw's roar echoed above the pass. Twenty dung-tipped arrows pierced abdominal armor gaps. Darkfire powder ignited internal burns. Screams maddened sled dogs - harnesses snapped, iron crates plunging into crevasses.
Xu Qing observed from ice pillars, artic-fox earmuffs amplifying Goldscale's curses. Enhanced hearing (evolving nightly) tracked every syllable. Darkfire grenades (hide-wrapped shards + glacial shrapnel) hung ready.
"L-lord spare me!" Xu Qing stumbled from cover clutching ore chunk. "Just a porter—" His "trembling" roll placed a grenade at Goldscale's boots. Blue explosion revealed dagger's tri-claw pommel - match to his father's metal fragment.
Dusk in council tent. Goldscale bound by firepit watched Xu Qing's claws scrape crate wax seals. "Who are you? How knew our route?"
Xu Qing cowered, voice quivering while claws probed seams. "M-mercy! Last year... heard guards mention Ironblood payroll—" He brandished intercepted letters. "Look! Ironblood seal... trading ore for iron—"
Goldscale's eyes widened. "You dare—"
"N-no! Just... odd..." Xu Qing tucked letters into belt. "Why need iron? Harder than bone armor?" His whisper cut: "Mine floods. Collapse in fortnight. Your deal with Ironblood—"
Commotion outside. Frosthorn's staff thundered. "Whitefang. Now."
In inner tent, firelight danced on Frosthorn's metal fragment - resonating with Goldscale's dagger. "Thirty winters past," Frosthorn's voice iced, "your father lost claws to Graybear at Thaw Pass."
Xu Qing's pulse raced - crash-metal echoes merging with paternal memories. Spiral patterns recalled last words: "Stuff darkfire into tri-claw armor."
"Elder," Xu Qing knelt, fear-voice steel-cored. "Graybear conspires with Ironblood. But iron-scale fears bear dung, spiders fear reindeer—"
"Tactics waste breath." Frosthorn seized his wrist. Blue veins now patterned elbow-to-wrist like darkfire crystallization. "Why did your father hide this metal in your infant mouth?"
Xu Qing's throat tightened. Half-truths crystallized: "Father said... 'star-guests' token... controls darkfire..." Tears gleamed with resolve. "Feared being called monster—"
Frosthorn remembered the burning "sky-firebird" from aurora-lit legends. "Train scouts tomorrow. Hunt caravans." His paw crushed Xu Qing's shoulder. "Betrayal means light-pillar execution."
Midnight in mines. Xu Qing studied intercepted letters by fireglow - Ironblood troop deployments marked "April 15th: iron-scale delivery." His father's fragment aligned with documents' edges, completing tri-claw sigil - Graybear's mark, thirty-year betrayal brand.
"Whitefang?" Snowclaw's voice echoed. "Ironclaw sent venison—"
Xu Qing hid the metal shard, reverting to trembling mouse. "Q-quiet! Seeking lost darkfire—" He took meat, noting spider-silk on Snowclaw's armor - frostspider signature.
Across tundra, carrier pigeons bore Goldscale's defeat to Ironblood. Unseen darkfire shards in message tubes glowed blue. When Ironblood scouts followed beacon-light to Thaw Pass, they'd find no spiders - but a bearskin-clad human and his death-maze woven from trade maps and dung traps.
Xu Qing crouched in mine shadows, watching his fire-cast silhouette shift - bear to human to formless void merging with darkfire's glow. Whitening ear cartilage confirmed "Whitefang" dissolving, the helicopter pilot's soul fusing with bear-flesh through jingle-bell ambushes and spider-hisses.