As the blood spread through the water, the baby kun's frenzy began to wane. Its eyes, glowing red moments ago, flickered and dimmed, slowly returning to their natural, calm blue. The haze of bloodlust lifted as it blinked, confusion settling into its features.
The kun's small body trembled, a strange fog still clouding its mind. Why did I do that? The question stirred deep within, but it had no answer. The usual calm that governed its instincts had been replaced by something erratic, a confusion it couldn't fully grasp.
For a moment, the creature hovered in the water, its instincts warring with the muddled haze still lingering in its mind. Its gaze flicked from Mei's trembling form to the blood surrounding her, and finally to Xuan's limp, mangled arm in her lap. A tremor ran through the kun, its small form shaking with panic. It had swallowed him whole.
It let out a pitiful cry, a sound filled with remorse and fear. Why did it do that?
It didn't know what was going on. But then it realized something. As though driven by instinct, its body shimmered with a faint blue light. The fog in its mind had lifted just enough to discern it had to flee. With a last, guilty look at Xuan's arm, the kun vanished into the depths, disappearing through an Aquatic Gate.
A ripple of energy passed through the water, and then there was silence—the kun was gone, along with Xuan's body, taken into the unknown.
---
Uncle Wu reached Mei moments after, guiding her trembling form to the shore, holding her tightly as she clutched Xuan's severed arm. His expression remained unnaturally calm given the circumstances, but beneath the surface, his thoughts were racing. The Aquatic Gate. The creature had used it—something only a pure-blooded kun could achieve.
Seconds later, a fierce gust of wind bent the trees, sending leaves spiraling into the air. Lin Tian had arrived, his eyes ablaze with both rage and sorrow. His gaze swept over the scene—bloodstained water, Mei trembling in Uncle Wu's arms, and no sign of Xuan.
Without hesitation, Lin Tian's spiritual senses spread over the lake, combing every inch of the water. He had already seen it. Through his spiritual senses, he had watched the moment the kun took his son. But the reality hit harder now that he stood there, facing the stillness of the lake.
His qi surged, but there was nothing—no trace of Xuan. Lin Tian's chest tightened, his insides twisting like a vice. "Open a gate!" he commanded sharply, turning toward Uncle Wu. "Follow them!"
But Uncle Wu shook his head, his expression solemn. "It's no use. Once the kun uses the Aquatic Gate, the qi trail is completely cut off. Only the one who opens the gate knows where it leads." He paused briefly, sensing Lin Tian's mounting desperation. "But," he continued, as if offering a glimmer of hope, "they can only open it to places they've been before."
Just then Lady Yun arrived, her presence marked by a swirling current of water. "He's right," she affirmed, her voice steady but laced with pain. She had heard Uncle Wu's words as she arrived.
Lin Tian's fist clenched. "Then how?!" His voice cracked.
Uncle Wu's gaze flickered with an internal struggle before he finally spoke. "The baby kun is still young, and taking Xuan with it would put a great deal of strain on its ability. With Xuan in tow…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "It wouldn't have been able to transport them very far." He looked back at Lin Tian, his voice low but resolute. "They shouldn't be too far."
Without wasting another second, Lin Tian's spiritual senses flared out again—this time with renewed urgency. He stretched them far beyond the lake, reaching deep into the forests and across the hills, hoping to catch even the faintest trace of his son.
Meanwhile, Lady Yun's gaze fell on Mei, who was trembling uncontrollably in Uncle Wu's arms, her face pale and her hair streaked with dark blood—Xuan's blood. With a heavy heart, Lady Yun rushed to her daughter's side, gently pulling her from Uncle Wu's embrace and cradling her close. Mei buried her face in her mother's chest, her small frame shuddering with silent sobs as Lady Yun held her even tighter, trying to shield her from the horrors that had transpired.
"I'm here, Mei. Mama's here. You're safe." she whispered, stroking her daughter's hair. She knew Lin Tian would search every corner of the land for Xuan. She could search too, but with Lin Tian's abilities in this specific regard, starting from the same place would be redundant. Instead, what she could to, was to tend to their daughter now.
„It's going to be alright." She tried to reaffirm, as Mei clutched Xuan's severed arm, like it was a last fragile connection to her brother. But even as she whispered reassurances, Lady Yun's own heart remained filled with dread—knowing it was far from alright.
Meanwhile Lin Tian's qi pushed past their estate toward the mountains, where the surrounding Peng Sect's jade pavilions soared high above the clouds.
His spiritual energy slammed into the Peng Sect like a tidal wave, disrupting everything in its path. Disciples faltered in their training and even Elders woke up from their meditations, as Lin Tian's overwhelming desperation washed over them.
But despite the strength of his search, it gave him no answer—no trace of Xuan. It was as if his son had vanished completely, swallowed into the unknown.
Even so, he still didn't retract his qi, his spiritual senses continuing to search tirelessly, refusing to accept the silence from the world around him, as he meticulously combed every single body of water he could find. But slowly his heart clenched tighter, his mind grappling with the reality he could not face. Xuan couldn't be gone.
But no matter what, his qi still searched, still pressed outward—he could not stop, not until he had his son back.
---
Far away, in a quiet river deep within a shadowed forest, a young kun surfaced. Its body trembled with exhaustion, its normally calm blue eyes now clouded with guilt and panic. The creature had used its divine ability, Aquatic Gate, to flee the lake in a state of blind terror after swallowing Xuan, but the strain had been overwhelming. It wasn't strong enough yet to take another through the gate, and carrying Xuan, even within its jaws, had exacted a terrible cost.
Now, as it surfaced, the enormity of its mistake weighed on the baby kun. Panic gripped it once more, and it thrashed in the water, the events of the attack flashing through its mind in chaotic, disjointed fragments. The peaceful lake, the sudden surge of bloodlust, and then… the boy.
It swam in frantic circles, its blue eyes darting about the unfamiliar surroundings, as though trying to find some semblance of clarity. But there was none. It tried to make sense of what happened but all it remembered was that roar. Everything had changed after that—its mind clouded, instincts lost. It no longer felt like itself. Now, the weight of guilt twisted inside it, growing heavier with each passing second, suffocating in its intensity.
And then, the kun remembered.
The boy.
Its panic spiked again, realizing it still had him in its mouth. In its confusion and fear, it hadn't even noticed the boy's still body lodged between its jaws. Quickly the kun surged toward the riverbank, desperate to release the boy. It coughed violently, hacking and choking as it struggled to expel the human from its maw.
With a final, heaving effort, the kun coughed up Xuan's limp body onto the riverbank.
Xuan lay motionless, his skin pale and cold, a stark contrast to the vivid pool of blood spreading beneath him. Where his right arm should have been, only a stump remained just above the elbow, still releasing blood that soaked into the earth, darkening it with every drop.
The kun nudged Xuan's nearly lifeless form gently with its snout, as if offering a silent apology. But deep down, the creature knew it was too late—Xuan's life force was flickering, barely hanging on, the faint glow of his energy dimming with each passing second.
Desperate, it tried to summon the last remnants of its strength to help. It focused inward, searching for some spark of power it could channel into the boy. But there was none left. The Aquatic Gate had drained it completely, leaving it too weak to even move properly. Its body trembled with fatigue, and it could only watch silently as Xuan's breaths grew fainter.
But it had to do something—anything.
The kun's eyes, wide with fear, darted to the river. It remembered the lake, the place where this had all started. A part of it thought, Maybe if I bring him back there… maybe they can save him, or maybe… It forgot why it had left there in the first place.
Quickly, the baby kun grabbed Xuan by the nape of his neck with its jaws, the way a mother would carry her young and turned toward the river, preparing to use Aquatic Gate again, to return Xuan to where it had taken him from. But as it tried to summon its ability once more, the kun's entire body seized in pain. It was too weak—far too weak to perform the technique again, especially not with another life in tow.
Its body spasmed. The strain was unbearable.
It choked and coughed violently, blood spraying from its mouth. In agony, it dropped Xuan back on the ground beside the river, the realization dawning that it couldn't save him this way.
As its consciousness started to dim, the world around it grew blurry. But through the haze of pain and guilt, the kun's thoughts remained fixed on one thing: it had to save Xuan. Even if it meant calling for help, knowing full well that the surrounding forest could hold more enemies than friends, it couldn't just let the boy die.
It didn't care anymore—this was its last choice.
With the last vestiges of strength left, the baby kun threw back its head and let out a desperate, piercing cry—a sound that echoed through the shadowed forest. It screamed again and again, making as much noise as it could, its voice cracking in strain. It knew it was more likely to attract something hostile, but it had no other choice.
Eventually it ran out of strength and its eyes began to close, the edges of its vision darkening. Still, it kept calling faintly, hoping that somewhere, something—someone—would come. The kun's tiny body trembled as it slumped down beside Xuan, its breaths shallow and labored, unable to do anything more.
Then, the forest fell silent.
Not the calm silence of night, but an eerie, unnatural stillness. Even the wind seemed to vanish, the leaves hanging motionless, and the air thickened with an oppressive weight that pressed down on the unlikely duo's chests.
A low, creeping sound, like the distant scrape of claws on bones, echoed through the darkness.
Something was coming.