The creature's eyes are pale, pupil-less, dead.
Still locked with eerie precision onto the grass hut where Wei and Chun were hiding.
It wasn't seeing them. It was sensing them.
As if some ancient predator's instinct, not vision, had locked onto its prey.
Then, it grinned.
But that wasn't a human smile.
Its mouth tore open at both ends, stretching all the way to its ears—
And from the depths of that split came a growl.
"Raaah—"
Armored in gold and built like a walking weapon, the monster began to move forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
It wasn't rushing. It didn't have to.
The way it moved said everything: it already knew the trap had been sprung. The prey had nowhere to run.
The wind stirred, bringing with it the scorched scent of burnt wood and old ash.
The air was thick with the smell of ruin and death.
Wei slowly let the shutter fall shut. His legs gave out and he dropped back onto the bed, holding his head in his hands.
That thing out there… it was beyond anything he could fight.
Hopelessness seeped into his bones.
Outside, the footsteps grew louder—clanking, dragging, steady.
The ground itself trembled with every step.
He sat frozen, heart hammering, breath shallow.
The monster's growl still rang in his ears like an echo from a nightmare, and something cold began to take root in his chest.
Then—
A soft touch brushed against the back of his hand.
Wei flinched. It was Chun. She was shaking.
In that moment, it was like a needle jabbed into his numb mind—jolting him awake.
The fear didn't go away. But something else pushed through it.
Responsibility.
He cursed himself. How could he forget she was right beside him?
He inhaled sharply, forcing the panic back down into his chest.
He reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle push.
She answered with a faint noise. Just that, ...enough to steady him.
He wiped his face with one hand. His other hand reached for the knife at his belt.
The leather grip was slick from sweat. He clenched it tighter.
Then, slowly, he stood.
One step forward, and he put himself between Chun and the door.
The black gap of the entrance yawned in front of them.
He stood facing it, shoulders tight, back straight.
Like someone bracing for a storm.
The footsteps were right outside now.
He could feel the vibrations in the floorboards, like a drumbeat hammering against his chest.
Sweat beaded on his palms.
The knife handle felt slippery again. He gripped harder.
Above them, bits of thatched straw began to fall.
A few strands slid down his collar, itchy against his skin. He ignored it.
The steps outside grew louder
and closer.
There was no getting out of this.
He heard Chun behind him. She had risen.
Both hands gripped a small wooden stool.
She stood beside him now.
He could feel her trembling just from how close she was.
Wei didn't look at her.
He didn't move back.
Instead, he shouted.
"Come on, then!"
His voice cracked through the silence.
And in that instant, something inside him surged.
Not courage. Not quite.
But enough.
If he was going down…
he'd go down with his blade drawn.
-----------------
Suddenly, a chill shot up Wei's spine—
sharp and freezing, like icy water being poured into his bones.
His body went rigid, frozen in place.
It wasn't the wind. And it wasn't his imagination.
A moment later, a large, cold hand clamped down hard on his shoulder.
The grip was iron-tight, heavy enough to crush. His breath caught in his throat.
His first instinct—
Father?
No. Impossible. His father couldn't be here.
Chun? No again. The hand was too large, too hard, too… wrong.
And in that instant of realization, his heart dropped like a stone into a deep well.
His chest caved inward, and his heartbeat began to spiral out of control—each thump crashing against his ears like a death knell.
Wei froze, breath shallow, almost gone.
He tried to turn, just enough to see who—or what—was behind him, but his body refused to respond.
The hand didn't let go. He couldn't even twitch.
A wave of dread crashed over him, dragging him into a dark, airless void.
His thoughts spiraled. Visions of death, of monsters, of inescapable horror tore through his mind.
It was like something had gripped not just his body—but his soul.
He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Terror locked every part of him in place.
Then—
A sharp smack landed on the back of his head.
"Thick skull. When are you going to learn to think as fast as Chun?"
Wei froze as if struck by lightning.
That voice.
That force, heavy in sound but light in truth.
His throat tightened. He almost failed to speak.
"Dad?"
The word came out tangled with shock, with relief, and with a dependence he was ashamed to feel.
His knees nearly gave way, but the grip on his shoulder shifted, steady and firm, holding him upright.
Fear drained away in an instant, replaced by a rush of warmth and safety that flooded his chest.
From the shadows stepped a tall, steady figure. His presence was unmistakable, shaped by years of experience and survival. It carried a weight that made it hard to look away.
Wei stared, his chest loosening at last.
It was his father.
Lin.
"Dad, where did you come from?"
Lin did not explain. He only spoke in a low, sharp voice.
"Come here."
He turned and moved back toward his own bed. Raising a hand, he pushed against the wooden wall.
The tightly fitted logs slid aside without a sound.
A hidden door opened, just wide enough for one person to slip through.
Wei's heart jolted.
When had his father prepared something like this?
He glanced back instinctively and saw Chun's eyes shining strangely bright. The look on her face held both surprise and something close to expectation, leaving Wei even more confused.
"Go through here," Lin said quickly."Do not look back. Head straight into the forest. Go to the cliff I showed you before. Get over it."
Wei's chest tightened.
"What about you? You are not coming with us?"
Lin straightened, his gaze sweeping the night like a hawk's.
"You are grown now," he said."Take Chun and go as far as you can. I will meet you soon."
"Dad!"
Wei grabbed his father's hand, unable to hide the urgency in his voice. The danger was not over. No one knew what would happen if Lin stayed behind.
He did not want to let go. A part of him even resented his father's calm resolve.
Lin only squeezed his hand once, firm and brief.
"Go," he said."I will hold them off."
He pushed Wei and Chun toward the exit.
As he turned back, he drew his hunting knife and faced the black doorway head-on.
In that moment, he was no longer just an aging hunter playing at toughness.
He was back to a warrior who had walked through countless brushes with death.
Outside, the golden-bracer monster stopped.
For the first time, it hesitated.