The sewers were pitch black, and the only sound Xiao Lin could hear was the dull throb of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. The walls stank of mildew and blood, and the deeper he went, the colder it became. His arm throbbed from the wound, his steps uneven, but his resolve never wavered.
Above, he could feel the battle like a storm crashing through his senses.
And Sheng Long's presence—blazing like a bonfire, full of grief and fury.
"I'm not dead yet," Xiao Lin whispered to the dark. "So don't fall apart without me."
He called on his beast core. The fox inside him stirred, uncertain but willing. The red sun burned faintly on his forehead as silver fur began to shimmer along his arms. His senses sharpened.
Ahead, movement.
A faint whisper of someone breathing, hidden.
Assassins.
So it hadn't been the Zerg alone. Someone had wanted him dead in the chaos.
Xiao Lin narrowed his eyes and did something Sheng Long never would have wanted: he stepped forward and lured them out.
The first assassin lunged with a blade, but Xiao Lin twisted gracefully, landing a strike with his claws that sliced across the man's chest. Another charged him from the side. He dropped low, letting the momentum carry them past him and into the wall.
You trained for this. You survived worse.
His breath came hard, but his stance steadied. He wasn't the same fragile ger locked in a kitchen.
He was the White Fox of a legend just beginning.
The last assassin reached for a communicator, muttering, "Target alive. Kill order stands. An—"
A tail wrapped in white flame whipped around and knocked the man unconscious before he could finish the name.
An...?
Xiao Lin froze. That name—
The memories cracked.
His mother's voice, whispering warnings. Faces from the royal court. A hidden chamber under the estate where she kept scrolls of her people's history.
His family... the healing powers... the witchcraft they were accused of.
He stumbled as flashes came faster—his mother's last night, a shadowed figure watching as she was dragged away. The scent of roses. A golden hairpin.
The royal crest.
Xiao Lin fell to his knees, tears springing to his eyes—not from the pain, but the overwhelming flood of truth.
They killed her.
Someone in the royal family wanted them erased.
And now, they were coming for him too.
Atop the battlefield, Sheng Long crushed the skull of the last Zerg in his path. His chest heaved, eyes scanning, heart on the verge of collapse.
Then—
A flare of white and red lit the edge of the clearing. A fox, wounded but fierce, staggered into the open.
"Xiao Lin!"
Sheng Long dropped his blade and ran.
The fox stumbled, then transformed back, silver hair falling in disarray and blood soaking his robes—but his eyes were fierce and clear.
"I told you," Xiao Lin whispered as he collapsed into Sheng Long's arms. "I'm not that easy to kill."
Sheng Long cradled him, trembling. "Don't ever do that again."
"I missed you too," Xiao Lin whispered, exhausted.
Then, with the eyes of their loyal soldiers and allies all watching, Sheng Long pulled Xiao Lin to his chest and spoke loud enough for the sky to hear:
"Let it be known—this ger bears my heart. Anyone who dares touch him, betrays me."
A silence fell.
And something in the tide of battle shifted.
They would not fall today.