The forest rang with shouts and the hiss of arrows.
The ambush that was meant to kill had turned into a circus of chaos.
The Emperor's guards braced around the half-stuck carriage, blades flashing in the morning haze. The Duke's men fought like a wall — trained, strong, but outnumbered.
Then… the air shifted.
A cold gust swept through the branches, though no wind stirred the leaves.
Something unseen slithered between trunks, laughter hidden in the rustle of pine needles.
Wei Rong was the first to appear — if "appear" could describe the blur of translucent flame that slipped through a bandit's shoulder.
He grinned, invisible to mortal eyes, voice a growl only Ananya could hear.
"They want a fight? Let's give them a memory instead."
Before anyone could blink, the nearest attacker swung his sword—only to have his own wrist seized midair.
His arm jerked back violently.
"Who—who touched me!?" he shouted, spinning around.
