Wang spun, his leopard eyes flashing with desperation. He was fast, faster than anything she had ever seen, but there were too many feral beasts, and the water was now swirling around their shins. The phantom beast took another earth-shaking step, and this time, the ground beneath them cracked open.

A feral beast, eyes crazed with fear, lunged directly at Lin Wan’s throat from the right.

She froze. There was no time to dodge, no time to scream.

Something struck the beast mid-air with the force of a battering ram, sending it spinning sideways into the dark water. A heavy hand clamped onto Lin Wan’s arm, hauling her back toward the center of the group.

It was Qin Mo.

He looked at the towering phantom beast. Then he glanced at the endless stream of feral predators pouring from the woods, and finally at the brown flood cutting off their retreat. He looked down at Lin Wan, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

"Hold on," he commanded, his voice low and vibrating with a strange resonance.

He let go of her arm and took a deliberate step back.

Then, he began to change.

Lin Wan had seen Wang shift dozens of times. It was always a violent, sudden snap of biology, man one second, predator the next.

This was different. This was like watching an ancient scroll unfurl, revealing a truth that had been hidden in plain sight.

Qin Mo’s body didn’t just change; it expanded. It flowed upward and outward, his skin rippling as it was replaced by a wave of dark, iridescent black scales.

They weren’t dull like the phantom beast’s; they shimmered with an oily, midnight sheen that caught the grey rain and turned it into sparks of light.

There were no legs, no wings. Just a massive, coiled body that seemed to go on forever, thirty feet of pure, liquid power. He was as thick as two grown men, his form tapering into a tail that moved with the slow, heavy weight of a swinging pendulum.

His head rose until it was level with the swaying tops of the trees.

When he looked down, his eyes were still that familiar, piercing gold.

Lin Wan stared up, her neck aching from the angle, her mouth hanging open.

’Okay,’ she told herself, her brain struggling to catch up. ’Okay. That’s Qin Mo. The same male who washed my blankets. The same male who got red-tipped ears when he fed me soup. That is still him.’

Her heart was doing a frantic dance in her chest. Part of it was raw, lizard-brain fear. But beneath the terror, something steadier was taking root. She looked into those massive golden eyes and realized she wasn’t afraid ’of’ him. She was afraid ’ for’ them.

The Teng Snake lowered his massive head toward her, the movement slow and deliberate. There was no mistaking the recognition in his gaze, it was tender, even in that monstrous form.

He began to coil his body around her. He didn’t squeeze; he created a living fortress, a wall of impenetrable scales between her and the chaos of the forest. She felt the sheer heat radiating from him as one massive loop settled into the mud around her feet.

"Quickly, get on!" Wang’s voice came from the side. He was still in his silver leopard form, his fur stained with mud and blood as he snarled at a fresh wave of feral beasts.

Lin Wan didn’t hesitate. She reached out, her fingers finding the edge of a massive scale, and hauled herself up. His scales were surprisingly smooth, nearly dry despite the downpour, and warm with a subterranean heat that defied the freezing rain.

The Teng Snake surged upward.

Lin Wan clung to his back, her fingers digging into the spaces between his armor.

From this height, the perspective shifted. She could see the entire battlefield: Wang was a streak of silver lightning cutting through the dark mass of beasts; Keal and Da Jun stood back-to-back, holding the flank with grim efficiency. And there, the phantom beast continued its slow, indifferent march, oblivious to the destruction it left behind.

Qin Mo moved through the storm with a terrifying elegance. He was the Teng Snake, the master of clouds and mist. The rain didn’t seem to bother him; it seemed to belong to him.

They glided over the path of the phantom beast, and for the first time, Lin Wan saw the true scale of the creature from above. It was a moving continent of flesh and bone. She finally understood why every living thing in the west had been fleeing for its life.

Then, the phantom beast’s massive head tilted back.

Its dark, hollow eyes locked onto the iridescent black form of the Teng Snake.

It struck.

It wasn’t the calculated strike of a hunter; it was the clumsy, devastating reflex of a giant. One of its tree-trunk forelegs swung upward in a massive, sweeping arc. Claws the size of Lin Wan’s entire body tore through the curtain of rain.

The blow caught Qin Mo squarely across his side.

The impact was sickening, a dull, wet thud that vibrated through Lin Wan’s entire body. The Teng Snake’s body twisted violently, a massive shudder rippling through every coil as he hissed in pain. The loop Lin Wan was perched on shifted beneath her, tilting at a sharp, impossible angle.

She reached out, her fingers sliding over the wet scales, grasping for a hold that wasn’t there.

For one terrifying heartbeat, she was weightless, suspended in the grey air.

Then, the cold, brown water swallowed her whole.

The transition was a shock to the system. One moment she was in the heat of a dragon; the next, she was plunged into an icy, churning grave. The current was a physical hand, grabbing her, spinning her, dragging her away from the shore. She fought toward the surface, gasping for air, catching a fleeting glimpse of the nightmare above, the dark coils of the snake silhouetted against the clouds, the flash of silver fur, the roar of the beasts.

"Wang!" she screamed, but the sound was strangled by a mouthful of silt-heavy water.

The river took her around a sharp bend, and the sounds of the battle were instantly muffled by the roar of the flood.

Lin Wan fought with every ounce of strength she possessed. She lunged for passing branches, her fingernails ripping against bark, but the current was too strong, pulling her back into the deep. Something hard, a submerged log or a rock, slammed into her shoulder, then her hip. She couldn’t find the bottom. The world was nothing but brown water and the taste of mud.

She swept around another bend. Here, the river widened, and the current lost some of its frantic speed, pushing her toward the outer bank.

With a final, desperate surge, Lin Wan lunged. Her fingers found mud, thick, soft, and yielding. She dug her hands in, pulling herself forward inch by agonizing inch. The water refused to let go, dragging at her heavy clothes, trying to pull its prize back into the center.

Her knee finally hit solid ground.

She lunged again, a guttural sound of effort escaping her throat. The water finally released its grip with a reluctant hiss. Lin Wan dragged her body up the muddy bank and collapsed face-down, her lungs burning, her heart a frantic drum.

She lay there for a long time, the rain pelting her back, cold and indifferent.

Slowly, she turned her head.

The trees here were different—taller, stranger. The river churned past her, high and angry, carrying broken trees and debris she didn’t want to identify.

No Wang. No Qin Mo. No one.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, her head throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache. When she touched her temple, her fingers came away stained with a smear of dark blood. It wasn’t deep, but it stung in the wind.

She sat back on her heels, shivering uncontrollably.

’Okay,’ she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. ’You’re alive. You’re on the bank. The bag is gone, but you’re still breathing.’

She checked her limbs. Everything moved. Nothing felt broken.

’Weiwei,’ she called out in her mind.

The system was silent for a terrifying few seconds. Then, the familiar, mechanical ping echoed in her head.

[Host is alive. Location registered. Primary mate ’Wang’ and second candidate ’Qin Mo’ are alive and in combat status.]

Lin Wan closed her eyes, a single sob escaping her.

’They’re alive.’

She exhaled the breath she had been holding since the cave fell, her shoulders finally dropping. She opened her eyes and looked at the unfamiliar wilderness. Nineteen li was a long way in this weather, through this terrain.

She needed to find shelter. She needed to stay alive long enough for them to track her down. She wouldn’t let the river win.

Lin Wan forced herself to stand. Her legs were shaky, but they held her weight.

It was enough.