They reached the village just before midnight.
It wasn't marked on any map.
The trees didn't whisper here. The wind didn't blow.
It stood in the shadow of the mountain's peak like a forgotten wound…houses slouched and broken, rooftops splintered, black moss creeping across what once might have been a shrine.
Xin Ren staggered into the center of it, cradling the boy as his third tail dimmed to a faint flicker.
Baixue arrived beside him, frost trailing behind her boots.
Zhenlong stood at the perimeter, watching the treeline with narrowed eyes.
Langya climbed to a rooftop with casual grace, scanning the skies.
They didn't speak.
The silence of the place demanded reverence…or fear.
Inside the ruined shrine, Xin laid the boy down gently atop a stone slab once meant for offerings.
The boy whimpered but didn't wake.
His body convulsed once. Then again.
Then the chains on his arms glowed red-hot.
Baixue stepped forward instantly.
"His seals are breaking."
Xin stood, his breath ragged. "We can hold it back…"
"No," Zhenlong interrupted, entering with flames simmering low across his shoulders.
"If they break fully, we'll lose him."
Baixue nodded.
Langya dropped in from the roof, wiping blood from his hands.
"What if we already have?"
The boy thrashed violently.
The seals pulsed, the runes turning from silver to black. The ground beneath him cracked, and a pressure spread outward…like grief wrapped in thunder.
Xin backed up a step, stunned.
He had felt this before.
That day on the riverbank.
That sick weight of being wrong. Cursed. Born in a way the world rejected.
The same pressure the boy carried now.
Baixue's voice was quiet but final.
"If we don't reseal him, Xin... we may not survive the next sunrise."
Zhenlong pulled a scroll from inside his cloak. Ancient. Bloody.
"Bind him. Silence the thing inside before it tears through this world."
Langya cracked his knuckles. "Or I put him down quick. Painless."
Xin didn't move.
The boy was convulsing now, mouth open in a silent scream, tears streaming from eyes that glowed silver.
And still, he reached for Xin.
Like a child afraid of the dark.
Xin stepped between them and the boy.
"Touch him, and I kill you."
Zhenlong's fire surged.
Baixue's frost hissed.
Langya tilted his head. "You're serious."
"Dead serious."
Baixue's voice dropped to a whisper.
"You would die for him?"
Xin didn't hesitate.
"No. I would live for him."
The ground erupted.
Not from the boy.
But from beneath the shrine.
A burst of black smoke surged upward, splitting the stone floor.
From the crypts below…
They came.
Undead.
Rotting warriors clad in cracked Zodiac armor.
Once guardians.
Now corrupted by failed awakenings.
Their seals had shattered. Their gods had devoured them. And what remained were hollow husks of forgotten power and pain.
They rose in silence.
Ten. Twenty. Forty.
Baixue drew a blade of ice. "We fight."
Zhenlong flared with fire. "We protect the boy."
Langya grinned like a devil. "Now this feels like home."
Xin turned just once..to the boy.
"Stay with me."
Then he faced the undead tide.
And charged.
The battle in the cursed village was war made poetry.
Frost clashed with flame. Fists shattered bone.
Xin moved like a dying storm, his tails a blur of fire and ash.
Each blow he struck was a scream of defiance.
Each time the boy cried out behind him, Xin struck harder.
He couldn't save the world.
But he would save this one life.
Even if it killed him.
The undead pushed closer. One cracked Baixue's armor. Another nearly took Zhenlong's eye.
Langya was bleeding from the ribs, laughing through his teeth.
Xin's body gave out once. Twice.
He kept rising.
Because behind him, the boy had started to whisper.
Soft words.
In a voice too ancient for his mouth.
Baixue froze mid-strike.
Zhenlong's fire dimmed.
Langya stared, confused.
Xin turned…
The boy sat upright, eyes glowing white.
His chains broke.
One. Then another.
Silver light poured from his skin like starlight burning through flesh.
The undead screamed and burst into ash.
The shrine cracked down the middle.
The mountain groaned.
Xin rushed to him, grabbing his face, panting.
"Stay here. Stay with me.."
The boy blinked.
His lips trembled.
And he spoke.
Three words.
Soft. Clear.
And terrifying.
"He's coming back."
Xin froze.
"Who?"
The boy's face twisted in fear.
"My father."
The boy's voice echoed in the cracked shrine like a curse.
"He's coming back."
Xin stared down at him, blood pounding in his ears.
The silver-eyed boy trembled beneath his touch, lips pale, pupils glowing faintly.
"My father," he whispered again, softer this time. "He'll come for me."
Silence swallowed the room.
Baixue took a slow step forward, frost blooming under her boots. "What do you mean... your father?"
The boy didn't answer. He just curled tighter into himself, the remnants of his broken chains still glowing faintly along his skin.
Zhenlong's voice was low. Dangerous. "He remembers."
Langya crouched near the doorway, arms on his knees, head tilted. "Now that... changes everything."
Xin turned to them, jaw clenched. "Someone talk. Who is this 'father'?"
Baixue didn't look at him. Her eyes were locked on the boy.
"There was a god once," she murmured. "A being too powerful even for the Zodiac Court. Before the thrones were ever divided."
Zhenlong nodded slowly, fire dancing along his fingers.
"They called him the First Fang."
"A monster," Baixue said, voice bitter.
"A creator," Zhenlong corrected. "But not of life. Of weapons."
Xin looked down at the boy again. "You think… he's the son of a god?"
Baixue shook her head.
"No. Worse."
Zhenlong's voice was sharp. "He's a vessel."
Langya let out a low laugh. "So the brat's daddy isn't just a demon or a god…he's the one who tried to unmake the heavens."
The boy sobbed once. Not loud.
Xin tightened his grip on him. "Look at me."
The boy slowly obeyed.
His voice cracked. "He put part of himself in me. A long time ago."
Baixue paled.
Zhenlong stepped forward. "How much of him?"
"I don't know," the boy whispered. "But... he watches through me. He... waits."
Langya rose to his feet, expression flat.
"Then we kill him now."
Xin stood.
He didn't roar. Didn't strike.
He just stood…slowly, painfully…and placed his body fully in front of the boy.
"No."
Langya bared his teeth. "You don't get to say no."
"I do," Xin said calmly. "Because he's a child. Because he's scared. And because I was him."
Baixue's lips trembled.
Zhenlong closed his eyes. "Then we prepare."
Outside, the wind shifted.
It blew hot.
The snow melted.
And from the western horizon…
The clouds turned black.
They left the shrine behind.
Xin carried the boy again, despite every muscle screaming. The boy clutched at him with shaking fingers.
"You should hate me," he whispered.
"I don't," Xin answered.
"I might hurt you."
"You won't."
"I might become him."
"You won't."
That night, they made camp under the hanging cliffs.
Langya refused to sleep. Zhenlong carved protective runes around the fire. Baixue sat with her blade unsheathed and silent.
And Xin sat beside the boy.
When the boy drifted into shallow sleep, Baixue finally spoke.
"If his father is the First Fang... he'll come for his soul."
Xin stared into the fire.
"Then I'll protect it."
Zhenlong looked at him, firelight flickering across his scarred face.
"And if it means killing gods?"
Xin's voice was iron.
"Then I'll kill gods."
Far above them… beyond the veil of stars where no prayer could reach…
something stirred.
The sky didn't split. The earth didn't tremble. But the wind died. The night listened.
And in that hollow silence,
a voice older than creation whispered one truth into the dark:
"My son has awakened.
The throne will bleed again."