Lu Feng’s heart pounded like a drum, his palms slick with sweat.
The faint footsteps echoed through the night—light as a cat’s tread, yet heavy with danger. His eyes darted across the shadowy thickets and trembling treetops, every rustle now suspicious.
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“Stay still. Something’s off,” Lu Feng whispered urgently to Ai Liya, who trembled in his arms. She closed her eyes, channeling what little divine energy remained, ready to fight.
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The warriors around them tensed, weapons drawn. The air thickened with anticipation.
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Tak, his sword gripped like an extension of his arm, scanned the darkness with hawk-like intensity. Raphael, already mapping escape routes in his mind, muttered strategies under his breath.
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*Rustle… rustle…*
The noise drew closer, as though unseen eyes lurked in the void.
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Lu Feng held his breath, straining to parse every sound. His pulse merged with the wind into a dissonant symphony.
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Then—figures emerged.
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A towering man led the group, his tattered battle robes failing to hide muscles forged in war. His gaze, unyielding as stone, locked onto Lu Feng. Behind him stood a slender youth, a staff glinting in his hand, magic simmering at its tip.
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“Who are you?” Lu Feng demanded, voice low but firm.
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“Tak. A wanderer,” the man replied, steady as bedrock. He nodded to the youth. “Raphael. A strategist.”
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Lu Feng’s wariness lingered—too many had betrayed him under sweet words. Yet these two bore no hostility, only exhaustion… and hunger.
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“A… guide sent us,” Raphael said carefully. “We seek to join you. To fight the darkness.”
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Lu Feng’s resolve flickered. The @moss simulator had aided him thus far, but the enemies grew stronger. Allies like these—seasoned, sharp—might tip the scales.
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“How’d you find me?”
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Tak’s jaw tightened. “The Blood Fiend Sect destroyed my home. I ran… met Raphael, who’d lost just as much.”
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Raphael nodded. “The guide… they knew *you* could end this.”
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Lu Feng’s chest burned—rage, grief, resolve colliding. He exhaled slowly, then extended a hand.
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“Welcome to Dusk Fortress.”
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Their grips sealed the pact.
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“A spar,” Lu Feng提议, eyes glinting. “To see what you’re made of.”
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Tak grinned, fire igniting in his stare. “Try to keep up.”
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Raphael twirled his staff. “You’ll need more than brute strength.”
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—
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The clash erupted. Tak’s sword thundered, each strike earthquaking the field. Raphael wove spells like a composer, redirecting blows with calculated precision. Lu Feng commanded with tactical brilliance, while Ai Liya’s moonlight magic danced between shadows.
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By dusk, their movements harmonized—trust forged in sweat and steel.
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Around the campfire, laughter briefly drowned the night. But as embers dimmed, the Shadowmoon Cat at Lu Feng’s feet suddenly bristled, fur standing on end. A guttural growl ripped from its throat, green eyes blazing toward the woods.
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Silence fell.
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Lu Feng rose slowly, fingers curling around his sword. “Seems dinner’s delivered itself,” he murmured, a feral grin spreading.
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The darkness beyond the firelight *shifted*.
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