The wind howled low over the white-carpeted ridge as the small party made their way back to the outskirts of Northpine Village. The forest behind them was thick with silence, as if watching, whispering to itself about what had taken place in its depths.
Li Rong walked at the front, his steps light, almost soundless—each movement enhanced by the agility granted by his newly absorbed skill, Shadowstep. With a subtle flicker, his form could now blur through space in bursts, slipping past roots and snowbanks like a shadow cast by flickering firelight.
Behind him, Ren Yao kept glancing over with awe plain on his face. "I still can't believe how fast you moved back there. That rabbit was a demon. I thought we'd be chasing it for hours."
Li Rong didn't look at him. "It almost made me kill myself trying to catch it. Shadowstep gave me the edge."
Li Xue, her breath visible in the cold air, tilted her head. "You've refined Moonstep too. The rhythm is cleaner. Sharper. You've become… hard to follow."
"Good," Li Rong replied. "The less my enemies can follow me, the better."
Elder Li Jian, ever the silent observer, gave a barely perceptible nod. "And yet, you chose to reveal your spirit ability only to them."
Li Rong stopped walking. Snow crunched beneath his boots. "You don't need to know what I gained, Elder. You only need to know I'm still alive."
The elder's gaze sharpened, but he did not respond. Instead, he looked to the distance, where smoke from cooking fires was curling above the treeline.
"Northpine is close. Keep your secrets if you like—for now."
They entered the village just before nightfall. Lights glowed behind wooden shutters. The snow had stopped falling, but the temperature had dropped further, crisp and dry as brittle parchment.
As they passed through the gate, a few younger disciples from other branches of the Li Clan rushed forward to greet them.
"Elder Jian!"
"Did you bring back a ring?!"
"Who got their first beast?"
Ren Yao raised his hands sheepishly. "All Rong. He got a rare one. Shadowfang Rabbit."
Gasps erupted from the crowd. The Shadowfang Rabbit was well-known, especially among the younger generation. Fast, evasive, dangerous. Not many ever succeeded in hunting one, let alone absorbing its spirit ring.
A dark shadow pushed through the crowd. Li Zian.
He strode forward with practiced arrogance, his fur-lined cloak billowing behind him, his chin held high. He hadn't gone on the ring hunt, but he'd made sure everyone knew he would be selecting a "more refined" beast at a later time.
"So, the cripple returns successful?" he said with a smirk. "Or is this another one of your staged performances?"
Rong didn't answer. He stepped past him.
Zian's hand snapped out and grabbed his shoulder. "I'm talking to you, cousin."
Li Rong turned his head just slightly, his silver-flecked eyes flashing.
Zian's hand recoiled, unbidden. For the first time, he felt the chill in Rong's gaze—not just cold from the snow, but the deep, calculating cold of something ancient and buried.
"I don't perform," Rong said quietly. "I don't need to."
Zian sneered, but said nothing.
The crowd parted as the group walked on. Behind them, murmurs began to rise. Words like "Shadowfang," "impossible," and "Moonfang bloodline" passed from mouth to ear in half-whispers.
That night, they gathered inside the great longhall, a wide chamber of carved pine logs and wolf-tooth chandeliers. Fires crackled in the hearths as the clan's inner circle sat in council. Elder Li Jian stood at the center.
Li Rong, Ren Yao, and Li Xue stood at attention before them.
"You may present your achievement," said a silver-bearded elder, one of Li Jian's contemporaries.
Li Rong nodded and stepped forward.
He inhaled deeply and released the power in his veins.
A soft glow rippled through the room, followed by the appearance of a pure white soul ring—a perfect 100-year spirit ring.
The Duskwither Moonfang Wolf spirit flared behind him, its form larger and more defined than before. Silver strands of moonlight threaded through its shadowy body.
Gasps rippled through the seated elders.
"It's real," someone murmured.
"A mutated wolf spirit with a hundred-year agility ring? At twelve?"
One elder leaned forward, eyes sharp. "What is the skill?"
Li Rong didn't answer immediately.
He glanced toward Li Xue and Ren Yao—his only trusted allies.
Then, slowly, he spoke. "The skill is called Shadowstep. It allows me to dash instantly in a direction, leaving behind a blur. It's difficult to track. Useful for both evasion and assault."
A few elders nodded in approval.
But one voice cut through the admiration. Elder Li Feng—Zian's uncle—spoke coldly. "Sounds like a rogue's skill. Perhaps fitting for one born of diluted blood."
Li Jian's brow twitched. "Enough, Feng."
But Li Rong smiled calmly.
"Shadowstep isn't just for running away," he said evenly. "It's for killing before they know I've moved."
That silenced the room.
For a moment, firelight danced in the quiet, casting flickering shadows on the wooden beams above.
Finally, Li Jian spoke. "Your performance exceeds expectations. You'll be given two days to rest. Then training resumes. Be ready."
"Yes, Elder."
As they filed out of the longhall, Ren Yao whispered, "You're going to make a lot of enemies."
"I already have," Li Rong replied. "But now they know I can bite."
Later That Night…
The fire in Li Rong's quarters burned low, casting dim orange light across the room. Li Xue sat beside the hearth, sipping from a clay cup of pineleaf brew.
"You didn't tell them everything," she said softly.
Rong glanced at her. "No. Only what I wanted them to know."
"You're planning something."
"I'm surviving something."
Li Xue was quiet for a moment. Then she looked up. "The Moonfang spirit… it's changing, isn't it? It's not just shadow anymore."
Rong met her eyes. "The moonlight in its fur—it's growing. I think… I think it's starting to adapt. Evolve."
Li Xue nodded. "Then you need to be careful. Those with old bloodlines won't like what you're becoming."
"They never did."
She offered a faint smile. "Good."
Outside, snow began to fall again—soft and silent.
But within the cold, the fires of ambition burned hotter than ever.