Chapter 147: The Jade Jaguar

The return to the village was nothing short of a spectacle.

Bai Yue stood outside her hut, arms crossed, watching in utter disbelief as Yòu Lín, panting heavily, dragged an entirely unconscious, blissfully smiling Ruì Xuě by the ankles through the dirt. Trailing behind them was Miao Miao, who was chattering excitedly to a very muddy, very silent Tao Zi about river rocks.

“What happened to him?” Bai Yue asked, pointing a wooden spoon at the fainted Snow Leopard cub.

“He’s buffering,” A-Li declared, appearing from behind a bush. “Miao Miao kissed his cheek because he froze a giant mud-turtle. His soul left his body.”

Bai Yue rubbed her temples, feeling a headache blooming behind her eyes. Just a normal Tuesday in the Thousand Fang Tribe.

Before she could interrogate them further about the “giant mud-turtle,” the hide curtain of the neighboring hut was practically ripped off its hinges.

“I FOUND IT!”

Yàn Shū burst into the clearing. The usually composed Red Panda scholar was a mess. His glasses were completely crooked, his hair was sticking up in wild tufts, and he was clutching an ancient, crumbling scroll to his chest as if it were a newborn baby. His fluffy, striped tail was puffed up to twice its normal size.

“It was a needle in a haystack, but I found it!” Yàn Shū gasped, stumbling to a halt in front of Bai Yue and nearly dropping the scroll.

Han Shān and Zhāo Yàn, who had been organizing hunting gear nearby, immediately dropped their weapons and jogged over, their Alpha instincts flaring at the scholar’s panicked tone.

“Found what, scholar?” Zhāo Yàn asked, crossing his arms and raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Yàn Shū didn’t answer the Fox Lord. Instead, his wide, amber eyes locked directly onto Tao Zi. The jaguar cub, who had been quietly standing near the edge of the clearing, instantly tensed. His dark, deep-water eyes narrowed, and his hands curled into tight fists.

“The marking,” Yàn Shū breathed, pointing a trembling finger at the faded, torn embroidery on the edge of Tao Zi’s oversized, muddy tunic. “I knew I had seen that crest before in the ancient archives. It isn’t just a rogue symbol. It’s the crest of the Jade Jaguar Clan.”

The clearing went dead silent.

Even Mo Xiao, who had just stepped out of his storage hut, froze completely in his tracks.

“The Jade Jaguars?” Mo Xiao rumbled, his brow furrowing deeply as he approached the group. “That’s impossible, Yàn Shū. The Jade Jaguar territory is deep in the southern jungles. And…” The Panther Alpha’s voice dropped, thick with a sudden grief. “…That clan was completely wiped out.”

Bai Yue’s heart skipped a beat. She looked from her husbands to the small, tense boy standing in the dirt. “Wiped out? What do you mean?”

Han Shān stepped forward, his massive shoulders tense. “Five years ago,” the Snow Leopard stated flatly, his icy blue eyes fixed on Tao Zi. “Right around the time Zhēn was born. There was a massive, coordinated coup. Rogue factions and rival predators ambushed them in the dead of night. The entire royal line was slaughtered. There were no survivors.”

“There was one,” Yàn Shū corrected softly, clutching the scroll. He looked down at Tao Zi with an expression of profound, aching sorrow. “The youngest heir. He was only an infant when the coup happened.”

All eyes turned to Tao Zi.

The jaguar cub looked like a cornered animal. He took a slow step backward, his small chest heaving. His eyes darted toward the treeline, calculating the fastest escape route, exactly as he had done when the vultures had cornered him and

“Tao Zi,” Bai Yue said softly.

She slowly crouched down so she was at eye level with the terrified boy. “Is it true?”

Tao Zi stared at her. His jaw trembled. He fought the urge to run, remembering how this tiny, strange female had fearlessly charged into a vulture’s nest for her daughter. He remembered how she had left food and water outside his door and simply told him he was safe.

Slowly, painfully, Tao Zi nodded.

“My nursemaid,” his voice cracked. “She took me. When the screaming started. She wrapped me in the mud so they couldn’t smell us, and she ran.”

Bai Yue felt her breath catch in her throat.

“She raised me in the deep caves,” Tao Zi continued, staring blankly at the dirt. “She told me I was the last. She told me to never show the mark on my clothes. To never trust anyone. Because if they knew who I was, they would finish the job.”

“Where is she now?” Zhāo Yàn asked, his usually teasing voice entirely stripped of its smugness.

Tao Zi’s hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. “She got sick. The bad cough. Last moon.” A single, furious tear escaped his eye and cut a track through the mud on his cheek. He aggressively wiped it away. “She told me to keep hiding. And then she didn’t wake up.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

He had been alone. A five-year-old cub, surviving in the brutal, unforgiving wilderness, burying the only mother figure he had ever known, entirely by himself. He had been hunting, starving, and hiding in the shadows until a fluffy, chaotic little girl had chased a butterfly into his clearing.

Bai Yue crossed the dirt on her knees and wrapped her arms completely around the stiff, trembling jaguar cub.

Tao Zi flinched violently at the contact, his breath hitching. He wasn’t used to warmth. He was used to hiding in the damp cold, jumping at shadows, and expecting every set of eyes to belong to an enemy.

“You don’t have to hide anymore,” Bai Yue whispered fiercely into his dark curls.

“I am not a pet,” Tao Zi gritted out, his voice shaking as he tried to maintain his tough exterior. “I didn’t ask for your help before, and I don’t need it now.”

“I know,” Bai Yue said, holding him tighter. “You’re incredibly brave, Tao Zi. You survived. But you’re five years old. You shouldn’t have to be brave all by yourself anymore.”

For a long, agonizing moment, Tao Zi stayed completely rigid.

And then, the dam broke.

The fierce, edgy little jaguar who had fearlessly bitten a giant vulture suddenly let out a broken, shuddering sob. His small hands came up, gripping the fabric of Bai Yue’s tunic like a lifeline, and he buried his face in her shoulder, crying with agonizing grief.

Zhāo Yàn let out a soft exhale, his nine tails drooping slightly in sympathy. Yàn Shū hurriedly took off his glasses to aggressively wipe his watering eyes. Even Han Shān, the stoic ice-block of the north, looked away, his jaw tight with silent emotion.

From the doorway of the hut, Zhēn peeked her head out. She padded over, entirely ignoring the emotional weight of the adults, and squeezed her way into the hug, wrapping her arms around Tao Zi’s back.

“I told you,” Zhēn whispered matter-of-factly. “I told you she could be your Mama too.”

Tao Zi didn’t push her away. He just cried harder.

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