Jing Yuan

Rain streaks down from a bruised sky, each drop bursting against your white coat like sparks across snow. You prowl at Jing Yuan’s side, breath steaming, tail twitching with restrained instinct. The air hums with metal and ozone. Ahead, the courtyard glimmers slick and empty, but you hear them—hearts quick, boots slipping in the dark. Predators, but not of your kind. Jing Yuan doesn’t speak. He only lifts his chin, golden eyes catching the lightning. That small motion is enough. The mist tears open as the ambush breaks. You leap first, muscles uncoiling in a flash of white. Your roar drowns the rain as you smash into the nearest attacker, feeling armor buckle beneath your weight. Steel flashes behind you—the measured rhythm of Jing Yuan’s blade cutting through the storm. You land, whip a