Chapter 160: The Breaking

The world had narrowed to pain.

Bai Yue didn’t know how long they had dragged her. Through passages. Down stairs. Past cells filled with shadows and the smell of old despair. Her wrists were bound behind her back with rough vines that bit into her skin every time she struggled.

She struggled a lot.

“Stop moving,” the jaguar guard growled, yanking her forward.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shut up.”

“Where are the others? Where’s my—”

Thwack.

The back of his hand caught her across the mouth. Blood welled on her lip. She tasted iron.

“I said shut up.”

Bai Yue didn’t shut up. But she stopped asking questions. For now.

They threw her into a room.

It was small, windowless, lit by a single torch. The walls were stone, carved with images of jaguars devouring their prey. In the center of the room stood a chair.

Not a comfortable chair.

Iron. Bolted to the floor. Armrests stained dark with old blood.

And beside the chair, smiling, stood Li Hua.

“Leave us,” Li Hua said.

The guard bowed and retreated. The door slammed shut. A lock clicked.

Bai Yue and Li Hua were alone.

“You look well,” Li Hua said. She circled the chair slowly, her fingers trailing over the iron armrests. “Considering.”

Bai Yue said nothing.

“No witty retort? No threat? I’m disappointed. The stories make you sound so fierce.”

“Let my family go.”

Li Hua laughed. It was a pleasant sound, warm almost, like she was genuinely amused.

“Let them go,” she repeated. “Just like that. After five years of planning. After building an army. After taking a throne.” She stopped in front of Bai Yue and tilted her head. “No.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you to suffer.”

Li Hua reached out and grabbed Bai Yue’s chin, forcing her head up. Her grip was strong, her nails sharp.

“I want you to feel what I felt. Watching you take everything from me. Watching him look at you like you were the sun.” Her eyes darkened. “You didn’t even want him. You didn’t even care. You just…..took. Because you could. Because the world bends for you.”

“That’s not true,” Bai Yue said, forcing the words out.

“Isn’t it?” Li Hua released her chin and stepped back. “Everything handed to you. And you had the audacity to act like you earned it.”

“I never said I earned—”

“You didn’t have to. I could see it. The way they look at you. The way they worship you.” Li Hua’s voice cracked, just slightly. “I had to fight for everything. Every scrap of power. Every ounce of respect. And still, still, he looked at you.”

“Tiě Xióng?”

Li Hua’s hand moved.

Smack.

Bai Yue’s head snapped to the side. Her cheek stung and her ears rang.

“Don’t say his name,” Li Hua whispered.

The door opened.

Two guards entered, dragging a small figure between them.

Tao Zi.

His dark eyes were wide, his face streaked with tears, but he wasn’t crying. He wasn’t making a sound. He just stared at Bai Yue with an expression that broke her heart.

“Tao Zi,” she breathed, her heart racing. “No. Leave him alone. He’s just a child.”

“He’s the heir to the Jade Jaguar throne,” Li Hua said. “He’s leverage. He’s bait. He’s whatever I need him to be.”

She gestured, and the guards forced Tao Zi into a second chair, smaller than Bai Yue’s, bolted to the floor beside her.

“Don’t touch him,” Bai Yue said. “Please. Take me. Torture me. Do whatever you want. Just leave him alone.”

Li Hua crouched in front of Tao Zi.

The little jaguar stared at her with those deep-water eyes. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away.

“You’re brave,” Li Hua said. “I admire that. Your mother was brave too. Right up until the end.”

Tao Zi’s lip trembled, but he said nothing.

“Did you know I was there?” Li Hua continued, her voice soft, almost gentle. “The night the palace fell. I watched your mother die. She begged, you know. Begged for your life. Begged for mercy.” She smiled. “She didn’t get any.”

Tao Zi’s hands curled into fists.

“I’m going to tell you a secret,” Li Hua whispered. “The throne doesn’t belong to you. It never did. It belongs to whoever is strong enough to take it. And I am stronger than your mother ever was.”

“You’re a monster,” Tao Zi said.

His voice was small, but it didn’t shake.

Li Hua’s smile flickered.

“Maybe,” she said. “But monsters win.”

She turned back to Bai Yue.

“Now. Where were we?”

Bai Yue’s wrists ached. Her cheek throbbed, but she held Li Hua’s gaze.

“You are going to lose,” Bai Yue said. “My family will find me. They’ll tear this temple apart stone by stone.”

“They’ll try.” Li Hua picked up a knife from the table. It was small, curved, the blade black with old poison. “But your snow leopard is dying. Your dragon is unconscious. Your fox is trapped in a collapsing passage. And your scholar is trying to save everyone with bandages and hope.” She pressed the flat of the blade against Bai Yue’s cheek. “You are alone.”

“I’m never alone.”

Li Hua’s hand trembled. The blade bit into Bai Yue’s skin, just a scratch, just a line of blood.

“We’ll see.”

~

Somewhere in the darkness, Ruì Xuě heard screaming.

Not his mother. Not yet. Someone else. A guard, maybe. Or one of the bears.

He pressed himself against the wall of his cell and tried to breathe.

They were here. He had heard the guards whispering it. Maybe they were—

He couldn’t finish the thought.

He looked at his hands.

Small. Shaking. Covered in dried mud and his father’s blood.

His father’s blood.

Ruì Xuě had pressed against Han Shān’s side before the guards pulled him away. He had felt the warmth leaking out, felt the ice in his father’s veins going cold.

Papa is dying.

The thought should have paralyzed him.

Instead, something else happened.

Something cold.

Not the cold of fear. Not the cold of shock.

The cold of rage.

Ruì Xuě stood up.

The cell was small, barely larger than the crate had been. Iron bars. Stone walls. A locked door.

He walked to the door and placed his palms against it.

Ice, he thought. Come on.

Nothing.

Please. Please. Papa needs me. Mama needs me.

A flicker. Frost on the bars. Just a thin layer, melting as fast as it formed.

Not enough. Never enough.

He thought of Li Hua’s face. Her smile. The way she had looked at his mother.

She wants to hurt them. She wants to break them.

I won’t let her.

The frost spread.

Thicker this time. Colder. The iron bars groaned.

More.

Ice crawled up the door, across the lock, over the hinges. The metal screamed.

MORE.

CRACK.

The lock shattered.

The door swung open.

Ruì Xuě stood in the doorway, his hands still pressed against the frozen bars. His breath came in white clouds. His fur was rimed with frost.

He looked down at his palms.

Ice crystals, sharp as knives, had formed across his skin.

I did this, he thought. I actually did this!!

But there was no time to celebrate.

Somewhere above him, his mother screamed again.

He ran.

The corridors were a blur of shadow and torchlight. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know how to find the throne room. He just ran.

Guards appeared. He didn’t stop.

The first one reached for him. Ruì Xuě’s hand came up. Ice exploded from his palm, slamming into the guard’s chest, sending him crashing into the wall.

The second one drew a sword. Ruì Xuě ducked under the blade, pressed his palm against the man’s leg, and froze him to the floor.

Keep moving. Keep moving.

He burst through a door and into a passage.

And there, at the end of the passage, light.

The throne room.

Ruì Xuě ran.

He burst through the final door.

The throne room was vast, dark, lit by flickering torches. At its center, on a throne of stolen jade, sat Li Hua.

And at her feet—

“MAMA!”

Bai Yue was on her knees. Her face was bloody. Her hands were bound. Beside her, Tao Zi knelt, his small shoulders shaking.

Li Hua looked up, and her eyes widened.

“Impossible,” she whispered. “How did you—”

Ruì Xuě didn’t let her finish.

He raised his hands.

The ice came.

Not a trickle. Not a wave.

A storm.

It exploded from his palms, filling the throne room with blinding white. The torches died. The air turned to frost. The guards screamed and scrambled.

Li Hua rose from her throne.

“You’re just a child,” she hissed. “You can’t—”

Ruì Xuě’s ice hit her throne.

The jade cracked. The iron crown fell. Li Hua stumbled back, her face pale, her eyes wild.

“You should, not have touched my family,” Ruì Xuě said, his eyes darkening

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