Death should have been quiet.
Jiang Yu remembered cold steel sliding between her ribs, the taste of iron in her mouth, the sky turning upside-down. She remembered the faces of the disciples she had raised, taught, fed, and protected. They looked down at her as one might regard a carcass.
"Master, you are no longer useful," they had said.
That was the last thing she saw.
She expected nothing after that. No reincarnation, no judgment, no peace.
So when she opened her eyes again, she was surprised.
A cave ceiling loomed above her. Damp stone. Moss. The faint dripping of water. Her fingers brushed the ground—it was coarse and cold. She inhaled, and her senses sharpened instinctively. The air was wild, tinged with the scent of beasts and dense forests.
Then she heard it.
A small, weak sound. Barely a whimper.
She looked down.
A wolf cub lay in her arms. No bigger than two hands cupped together. Its fur was a pale silver, though matted and stained. The creature's breath was shallow, its ribs visible under too-thin skin. It had been starving for days.
Jiang Yu stared.
So, this was her new life.
Her body felt different too—not entirely human. Her nails were sharper, her senses keener. A faint silver stripe traced from her cheek down her neck, as though she carried the blood of wolves herself.
Perhaps she did. The world had changed, and she with it.
The cub gave another weak cry.
Jiang Yu lifted her wrist to her lips and bit. Blood welled, warm and metallic. She pressed her wrist to the cub's mouth.
"Drink," she murmured. "If you want to live, then take it."
The cub hesitated only a moment before licking at the blood with a desperate instinct. Its tiny body trembled with the effort.
She held it firmly, her other hand supporting its small head.
It lived.
For now.
⸻
The next morning, the cub opened its eyes—pale blue, like winter moonlight.
It saw her.
And very bravely, or very stupidly, it tried to bite her finger.
Jiang Yu flicked its forehead.
A small bonk.
The cub squeaked in outrage.
"When your teeth grow in," she said calmly, "you may try again."
The cub sat down and made a pitiful noise. Jiang Yu ignored its dramatics and stood.
The world she found herself in was primitive. No cities. No cultivation sects. Only wilderness, powerful beasts, and harsh survival. She learned quickly that the weak lived short lives here.
The cub followed her everywhere—tripping over roots, tumbling through brush, scrambling after her with determined little paws.
It was weak, but not lacking in spirit.
Good.
She could work with that.
⸻
On the third day, they encountered their first threat.
A Firemane Lion, its crimson mane blazing like embers, burst from the undergrowth with a roar. It was large enough to swallow the cub in one bite.
The cub froze in terror.
Jiang Yu stepped forward, expression calm and cold.
The lion lunged.
She caught it by the jaw.
Bone cracked beneath her grip.
The lion collapsed. She did not bother with finishing moves—it was already dead.
Wiping her blood-streaked fingers on a leaf, she glanced down at the cub.
It stared up at her, eyes wide with something new.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"You will not die," Jiang Yu told it, voice quiet but firm. "Not while I live."
The cub pressed its head against her leg.
⸻
Time passed.
She taught the cub how to stalk quietly. How to watch the wind. How to listen for the rustle of prey. When it fell, she made it stand. When it whined, she ignored it. But when it was injured—truly injured—she held it through the night and warmed it with her own body heat.
She was a harsh teacher.
But she did not abandon.
The cub grew quickly. Its fur regained its luster, silver like moonlight on water. Its teeth sharpened. Its legs strengthened. The once-fragile creature became swift and fierce.
It followed her like a shadow.
⸻
One stormy night, rain pounding against the cave mouth, the cub crawled into her lap and rested its head against her chest.
"Wooo…" it murmured softly.
She paused.
A sound. A call. A meaning.
Its first attempt at speech.
"…Mother."
Jiang Yu's hand froze in mid-air.
She had never been called that. Not sincerely. Not by beings who did not expect something from her.
Slowly, she placed her hand on the cub's head and stroked its fur.
"Yes," she said quietly. "I'm here."
The cub's tail thumped.
⸻
But peace was short-lived.
One morning, a group of wolves approached. Larger, older, and carrying the stench of arrogance. They were from the Silver Moon Wolf Clan—the very ones who had abandoned the cub to die for being born weak.
Their leader, a scarred male, sneered when he saw it.
"So the runt still lives." He laughed. "Hand it over. We will finish what we started."
Jiang Yu looked down at the cub. It trembled—but its eyes were no longer the empty eyes of prey.
"You wanted to be strong," she said to it. Her voice was low, steady. "Now is the time."
The cub stepped forward.
Its howl shattered the silence—high, sharp, but filled with growing power. Silver light rippled from its body, fur bristling, eyes gleaming with fierce determination.
The wolves hesitated.
Too late.
The young cub attacked.
Small, yes. But relentless. Its claws found throats. Its jaws tore through fur and flesh. It did not hesitate, did not falter. It fought because it remembered starvation. Cold. Fear.
And because its mother was watching.
When the battle ended, only the scarred leader remained, kneeling, trembling.
"Spare… spare me—"
Jiang Yu did not speak.
The cub understood.
It lunged.
⸻
Blood stained the earth.
The Silver Moon Wolf Clan was no more.
The forest quieted, as if acknowledging the rise of something new.
The cub—no, not a cub anymore—walked back to her. Its fur glowed silver even in daylight. Its eyes were sharp and proud, yet soft when they met hers.
It nudged her shoulder.
She rested her hand atop its head.
"You did well."
The now-grown wolf leaned into her touch, voice deep and resonant:
"Mother. Wherever you go, I will follow."
Jiang Yu's lips curved into a rare, gentle smile.
But the world shifted around her—fading like mist.
Another place was calling.
Another helpless creature waited.
She pressed her forehead to the wolf's.
"Grow strong. I will return."
Light swallowed her.
The wolf sat alone in the clearing, head lifted to the sky, and howled—
A sound that promised the world would one day kneel.