They burst from the house. Her "father" Fan Yangwei met them halfway, breathless, face pale.
"Go! The beast's too close—I'll hold it back!"
He snatched the bag from his wife's hands, then seized hers, dragging them toward the ancestral hall—the only place in the village with an underground shelter.
The world outside was chaos.
Villagers ran in every direction, some clutching infants, others wielding weapons or dragging carts of hastily packed belongings. Screams. Cries. A mother calling for her child. A bloodied hunter yelling orders.
A group of hunters, villagers, and low-level mages fought to hold the line facing off against a 1-star F-Class scaled fox with glowing tails and a 1-star F-Class armored flame-eye wolf.
Near the temple, the village chief and his wife stood guard, helping people descend into the shelter.
Then the ground shook.
"ROARRRR!!!"
A roar split the air.
From the northern path, a 1-star E-Class Frostic Black Bear twice the height of a man barreled toward them. Icy horns spiraled from its head, mist coiling around its form.
Its eyes locked on them.
Hu Yumei's father froze, then grabbed her mother's shoulders.
"Take her! Go!"
"No!" Her mother sobbed, clutching Hu Yumei tighter. "Not without you!"
"NOW!" he roared.
He shoved them toward the ancestral hall. Hu Yumei's small arms reached out.
"I don't want to leave you!" she screamed, voice tiny, body trembling with a child's fear—but a soldier's will rising beneath it.
Her small body couldn't keep up with the pace, but Hu Yumei clenched her jaw and forced her legs to run.
The world had fallen into chaos.
Firelight danced atop shattered rooftops, smoke rose like serpents into the night sky, and waves of beast Qi rippled across the land.
Low-level Beast Masters, Hunters, and Elemental Callers battled fiercely summoning bonded beasts, wielding blades, and casting spells. Yet all their efforts were like droplets against a storm. It was not enough.
The E- class frostic black bear was faster.
The beast was mid-tier maybe higher.
Still, she wasn't helpless not entirely. Her soldier's instincts ticked like a broken clock in her skull: exit paths, bottlenecks, terrain. Her core wasn't awakened, but strategy required no qi.
"Left!" she shouted, pulling on her mother's robes toward a narrow alley lined with broken tiles and half-walls.
Her mother in a dazed, obeyed.
Just as the E-Class frostic beast lunged the walls crumbled behind them in a blast of frost and stone.
Her father's voice rose behind the explosion roaring spells in defiance, magic sword flying, striking at the beast's body with a glowing blade inscribed with runes.
He fought like a man who had already accepted death.
Hu Yumei knew that stance. She had worn it too many times in her last life as a soldier.
The ancestral hall loomed ahead, old wood blackened by incense smoke, history, and grief.
The village chief waved them inside. "GO!"
Stone stairs led down beneath the altar, into a carved underground shelter packed with villagers: children sobbing, elders weeping low prayers, men gripping rusted blades.
Her mother shoved her toward the steps—then turned back. "I have to find him!"
"No!" Hu Yumei grabbed her mother's sleeve. "He said go. That's an order!"
The words came sharp, instinctive. Her mother froze, stunned by the sudden tone.
The girl in her arms was… not the same.
But something in her daughter steel glaze wrapped around her that makes her obey.
They head down into the shelter
Beneath the ancestral hall, within the earthen shelter carved by generations past, chaos stirred like a storm beneath still waters.
Villagers poured into the old tunnels through the hidden trapdoor under the altar, whispering prayers even as fear clung to their heels.
Fan Yumei's mother held her close, arms trembling. Her strength, like the last embers of a dying fire, was fading.
Yumei bit down on her lip until she tasted iron. Steady your mind. Hold your ground.
Though wrapped in a child's form, Hu Yumei's soul was that of a soldier, long tempered by war. Her instincts rose like a tide. She called out to the other children, her voice clear and firm, directing them to the far wall—away from the cracks where cold air breathed through. She found discarded planks and set them at the entrance, makeshift barriers to delay whatever might come.
Her stillness amidst chaos gave pause to those around her. Some followed her words without thought, drawn by the quiet command she carried.
Then above the earth moaned.
A man fell through the trapdoor, bloodied and bare-chested, eyes wide with terror.
He barely hit the ground before a great claw reached down and dragged him back into the dark. Blood painted the stones.
The trapdoor slammed shut.
——
When the doors opened hours later, it was breaking dawn.
The beast was gone. So was the fire. So were some villagers.
Hu Yumei stood at the edge of the ruins, the scent of smoke thick in her nose.
She didn't cry.
Instead, she walked the trampled path back to their small house, where the wooden floor was still intact but the roof was destroyed.
She climbed onto the charred beam with the casual practiced grace sat cross-legged, and began to breathe slow, even. Centered.
This body was small. Weak. Unawakened. But her mind was older than this body.
She whispered beneath her breath, "I survived two wars. This isn't the end."
Her hands clenched at her knees.
"Not again. I'll get stronger. I'll make sure this never happens again."
Then her mother's footsteps quick, urgent. Behind her, a stretcher. A groan.
Hu Yumei turned.
It was him.
Her father Fan Yangwei bloodied, wounds covering his body, his right leg missing below the knee. A bandage covered one eye.
But he was alive.
Her throat caught.
Her mother sobbed and fell to her knees.
Hu Yumei only nodded once, firm, like a soldier receiving new orders.
"I'll protect him now," she said softly. "Let him rest."
That night, she slept with her back against the wall. Her dagger, her father's last blade tucked beneath her pillow.
She was seven again.
But her soul had already lived a lifetime.
And her war was far from over.