Chapter 189: The Road Home

Bai Yue sat on a smooth stone at the edge of the jaguar survivors’ camp, her knees drawn to her chest, watching the sun paint the eastern sky in shades of gold and rose. Behind her, the clearing was quiet. The cubs were still asleep, curled in a tangled pile of fur and limbs beneath a makeshift shelter of woven branches. The husbands were scattered nearby, each keeping watch in their own way.

Han Shān stood at the tree line, his white hair catching the light, his eyes fixed on the distant column of smoke where the temple had fallen. Zhāo Yàn had somehow produced a set of soft leaves and was lounging on it like a king surveying his domain, though his nine tails were drooping with exhaustion. Yàn Shū was already awake, his glasses fogged as he bent over one of the wounded jaguars, checking bandages.

And Cāng Jì…

Cāng Jì was perched on a massive fallen log like a golden gargoyle, his arms crossed. Right, Cang Ji.

The jaguar elder, the old woman with the scarred stump, approached slowly. Her name was Yǎ Lì, and she had been the head of the royal nursery before the coup. Five years of hiding, of digging, of watching her people die one by one, had carved deep lines into her face.

But her eyes, when they met Bai Yue’s, were steady.

“Lady Bai Yue,” she said, her voice rough. “We owe you a debt we cannot repay.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Bai Yue said, standing. “I did what anyone would do.”

“No.” Yǎ Lì’s voice was firm. “No, they wouldn’t. We have been waiting for five years for someone to help us. No one came. Until you.” She looked at the surviving jaguars, still huddled in small groups, still staring at the ruins of their home. “We cannot stay here. The ground is cursed now. Li Hua’s dark magic seeped into the soil. Nothing will grow here for a generation.”

Bai Yue’s heart clenched. “Where will you go?”

Yǎ Lì hesitated. Her remaining hand curled into a fist at her side.

“If it is acceptable,” she said slowly, “if you would permit it… we would ask to accompany you to Thousand Fang. Not forever,” she added quickly. “Only until we find our feet. Until we can decide what comes next.”

Bai Yue didn’t hesitate.

“Of course,” she said. “You’re welcome for as long as you need.”

Yǎ Lì’s eyes glistened. She bowed her head.

“Thank you.”

From his perch on the log, Cāng Jì made a sound.

“A temporary arrangement,” he declared, as if he had any authority over Thousand Fang’s guest policies. “These refugees will require organization. Structure. Someone will need to oversee their integration, ensure they don’t disrupt the existing social hierarchy, manage resource allocation—”

“Cāng Jì,” Bai Yue said.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

He shut up.

The decision made, the camp stirred to life. The jaguars packed their meager belongings, what remained of their lives after five years of servitude. The cubs woke and immediately began running in circles, burn off the energy that had been trapped inside them for too long.

Ruì Xuě appeared at Bai Yue’s elbow, his purple eyes serious. He was wide awake now.

“Mama. Tao Zi isn’t eating.”

Bai Yue looked across the clearing. The little jaguar sat apart from the others, his curls falling into his face, a piece of dried meat untouched in his hands.

“I’ll talk to him,” Bai Yue said.

She walked over and sat down beside him, not too close, just close enough.

“Tao Zi.”

Nothing.

“You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry. But you should drink something. Your throat will hurt if you don’t.”

He didn’t answer. But after a moment, his small hand reached out and took the water skin she held.

He drank.

Bai Yue didn’t push. She just sat with him, watching the jaguars pack, watching her family move through the morning light.

Eventually, very quietly, Tao Zi spoke.

“Everyone I knew is dead.”

Bai Yue’s heart cracked. “I know.”

“The nursemaid who raised me. My mother. My father. The guards who used to let me sit on their shoulders.” His voice was barely a whisper. “All of them.”

“I know,” Bai Yue said again. She reached out and placed her hand on his back. He didn’t pull away. “But you’re not alone, Tao Zi. You have us now. And Yǎ Lì. And the other survivors. They remember your family too. You can remember together.”

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he leaned his small weight against her side.

Bai Yue wrapped her arm around him and held him there.

~

By midday, the camp was packed and ready.

One problem remained: transportation.

The jaguars were weak, many still wounded. The journey to Thousand Fang would take days on foot, through terrain they didn’t know, past predators who would scent their weakness.

“We cannot walk,” Yǎ Lì admitted, her jaw tight with frustration. “We would be sitting prey.”

Bai Yue turned.

“Cāng Jì.”

The golden dragon was examining his nails, pretending not to have been watching the entire conversation.

“I am not a taxi service,” he said.

“Cāng Jì.”

“I am a Prince of the First Generation. I have dignity. Standards. I do not—”

“Cāng Jì, please.”

He looked at her reluctantly. Her face was still smudged with soot. There were dark circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there before the temple. But her gaze was steady.

He sighed dramatically.

“Fine. But I am doing this under protest.”

He stepped back, and the shift began.

Golden light exploded from his body, bright enough to make the jaguars shield their eyes. His form stretched, expanded, scales shimmering into existence across his skin. When the light faded, the Dragon Prince stood before them in his full glory, wings spread, golden eyes gleaming.

“The elderly and wounded first,” he announced, his voice echoing in their minds. “I will make multiple trips. It will take several some time. Do not speak to me during flight. I require absolute concentration for this level of magnificence.”

“He means ’please don’t distract him or he’ll crash,’” Zhāo Yàn translated.

“SHUT UP, FOX.”

Glimmer appeared at Bai Yue’s side, her green scales bright in the morning light. The young dragon had recovered remarkably well, the spring’s healing waters having done their work.

“The shiny dragon is going to help,” Glimmer said, her golden-green eyes fixed on Cāng Jì’s golden form across the clearing. “I’m going with him.”

Bai Yue blinked. “You don’t have to. You just recovered. You should rest you know, you just…..”

“I’m not tired.” Glimmer’s chin lifted. “And he can’t carry everyone by himself. He’s dramatic, not invincible.”

From somewhere behind Bai Yue, a small voice piped up.

“But Glimmer…”

Everyone turned.

Yòu Lín was standing there, his orange ears drooping, his amber eyes wide and worried. His lower lip was doing that thing it did when he was trying very hard not to cry.

“You got hurt,” he said quietly. “The arrow. The ceiling. You almost…”

Glimmer’s fierce expression wavered.

“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was softer now.

“You’re not fine,” Yòu Lín insisted. He walked over to her and grabbed her hand, his small fingers wrapping around hers. “You were asleep for so long. You didn’t open your eyes. I kept talking to you and you didn’t wake up.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

Glimmer stared down at him. Her green scales dimmed slightly.

“I… I didn’t know that,” she admitted.

A tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away angrily.

“So you can’t help him carry anyone,” he finished, his voice small. “You have to rest. And… and not almost die again. Okay?”

He looked up at her with those big amber eyes, his little face streaked with tears, his lower lip still trembling.

Glimmer’s expression crumbled.

“…Fine,” Glimmer said, her voice barely a whisper. “I won’t help.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep