The days following that horrific night in the mountain cave passed like a slow, suffocating nightmare.
The air in the Fox Tribe grew heavy, thick with a truth that no one dared to speak aloud but everyone felt in their bones. The silence was louder than any scream.
When Han Jue finally returned from the mountain, he didn't come back with a happy expression of finally finding Su Qinglan.
They carried the broken body of Su Mingxuan, whose body was soaked in a terrifying amount of crimson.
Beside them, Su Qinglan walked like a hollow shell. Her steps were mechanical, her eyes fixed on the dirt, her face a mask of nothingness.
And Hu Yan never returned with them.
The tribespeople stood back, their eyes darting from the blood on the leader to the conspicuous absence of the tiger cub.
In that singular, chilling moment of realization, the tribe understood. Something unholy had happened.
