The chill of late evening crept across the remote forests of Planet Xiulan, brushing through trees like an old ghost returning home. Xiao Lin stood at the edge of a long-forgotten village where his mother once lived—far from the bustling capital and the watchful eyes of nobles. The buildings were overgrown, crumbling with time and sorrow, but the moment he stepped onto the soil, something deep within him stirred.
This was her home.
Back in the capital, Sheng Long moved like a silent storm across An Li's estate. His gaze swept over the guards, servants, and hidden corners as he searched for any sign of the traitorous rot infecting the Empire from within. The light from lanterns flickered, casting shadows that danced too deliberately. He didn't trust the stillness.
But even as he focused on the mission, his thoughts pulled him toward Xiao Lin.
Meanwhile, far from the Empire's pulse, Xiao Lin stepped into the ruins of a house nestled at the edge of the forest. It was small, barely standing, but there was still a lingering scent of dried herbs and jasmine—the scent of his mother. He knelt by an old floorboard and pried it loose, heart pounding as his fingers brushed the edge of a leather-bound journal hidden beneath.
The pages were fragile but alive with memory. Sketched symbols glowed faintly beneath his touch. There were notes on healing techniques, fragments of lullabies in a script older than the Empire, and stories of a bloodline feared and hunted for powers misunderstood. His mother had once been part of a secret lineage—ger who could heal not just flesh, but spirit. Protectors. Guardians. Oracles of flame and fox.
And the Empire had called it witchcraft.
Outside, twilight descended, and Xiao Lin followed the path etched in the journal to a forgotten temple hidden deeper in the woods. Crumbling stone arches marked the entrance. Wild vines and moonflowers curled around statues of foxes with sun marks on their foreheads. The air shimmered faintly with energy as though time here moved slower. He knelt in the center, placing his hand on a circular mark etched into the ground. His beast nucleus pulsed softly—responsive, reverent. For a moment, he could almost feel his mother's hands guiding his, the warmth of her voice in his memory.
Back at An Li's estate, Sheng Long paused in the shadows as he spotted a strange black residue trailing beneath a servant's tray. It hissed when touched by the air. Zerg essence. His jaw tightened. Trouble was closer than he thought. He turned, slipping back into the night, silent and sure. An Li's mask of nobility was cracking. But he would not confront her without proof.
In the forest temple, Xiao Lin lit a small lantern before the altar, his red eyes reflecting the flickering flame. "Mother… I will protect him. I will protect us all."
The wind stirred, and for a moment, it felt like the world had heard him.