Chapter 11 — I'll Make the Wolf King Pay in This Life

The supreme entity who swallows stars and drinks the moonlight of thirty thousand years past is, quite ironically, afraid of cockroaches.

“Stop laughing.”

The serpent’s tail flicked, striking her thigh with a sharp, rhythmic sound. “I can feel you laughing, mortal.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“The corners of your mouth are twitching.”

“That’s a muscle spasm.”

An Cuu Uyen sulked, burying its head deep into her palm. Tri Loc Minh’s fingers unconsciously caressed the top of its head. The scales were smooth and cool, yet radiated a subtle, living warmth. The snake did not pull away; in fact, it leaned into her touch, pressing against her skin with a rhythmic friction. Then, it suddenly stiffened, as if realizing the gravity of its vulnerability. It retracted its head with frantic speed, choosing instead to stare intently at the scenery outside the window, feigning complete indifference.

“I was not nuzzling you, for the record.”

“Mm.”

“I was merely adjusting my posture.”

“Mm.”

“Do not harbor any misunderstandings.”

“No misunderstandings here.”

The tip of the serpent’s tail flushed a telltale crimson. Tri Loc Minh saw it all, but kept her silence. The helicopter cut through the vast, blinding white expanse of the Arctic, heading toward warmer latitudes. Half a month had passed, and all four fragments had been retrieved. The Sea Clan of the East, after capturing An Cuu Uyen, had kowtowed three times in a bizarre, undulating fashion—the sight of a serpentine body bowing was truly grotesque—and swore oaths to never touch fish again before finally relinquishing their fragment. The Lion Clan of Africa had been far more pragmatic; the moment An Cuu Uyen unleashed its divine pressure, the Lion King had keeled over, exposing its belly in total submission, and the fragment had practically rolled out on its own. The final fragment, previously of “unknown whereabouts,” was located by the intelligence network of Red Moon within an underground relic in the jungles of South America. It sat quietly on a stone pedestal, unguarded, as if waiting to be claimed. With all seven fragments reunited, An Cuu Uyen’s recovery reached ninety-seven percent. The remaining three percent would require time, but a ninety-seven-percent God of Beasts now stood firmly at the apex of the planet’s food chain.

In Long City, on the thirty-second floor of the Far Ocean Building, Tri Loc Minh stood before a floor-to-ceiling glass window, watching the sunset bleed into a brilliant, molten gold across the skyline. Behind her, lounged on a sofa, was a man. He had ink-black hair, eyes of piercing amber, and skin as pale and translucent as fine jade. His features were so impossibly delicate they defied the reality of a human face. He possessed a slender, lithe frame, clad only in a simple black shirt with sleeves rolled casually to his forearms, where faint, golden markings glowed beneath the surface of his skin. This was An Cuu Uyen in human form. At ninety-seven percent, the God of Beasts finally possessed the vitality to sustain his physical manifestation.

“Well?” He spoke. His voice retained the resonant, melodic quality he held in serpentine form, yet it was now sharpened into something clear and profound, like the deep hum of a cello.

Tri Loc Minh turned, studying him for three long seconds. “Why didn’t you give me a warning before changing shape?”

“I thought I would grant you a surprise.”

“Appearing naked in my living room isn’t a surprise, it’s a traumatizing event.”

An Cuu Uyen glanced down at the shirt he wore—a garment Tri Loc Minh had grabbed from the closet and thrown at his head seconds after his transformation. “Humanity is remarkably ill-adapted to the sight of a natural body. When I was a snake, I wore no clothes, and you never raised an objection then.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“And how is it different?”

Tri Loc Minh did not answer. She walked over and sat on the opposing sofa, separated by the coffee table, and observed him with scrutiny. He was nothing like Le Hanh. Le Hanh’s human form was sharp, cold, and saturated with aggression. An Cuu Uyen, however, was—how to describe it? Lazy. A languid indolence that felt as though it had been distilled through thirty millennia of drifting. He sprawled across the sofa as if he lacked a skeleton, his golden eyes half-lidded as he watched her, mirroring the exact way he used to stretch out in the warmth of the desk lamp.

“Have you seen enough?” he asked.

“I am assessing.”

“Assessing what?”

“Whether this face of yours will cause a public riot if we go out.”

An Cuu Uyen tilted his head slightly. “Is that so?”

Tri Loc Minh recalled the visage he had worn upon his transformation. Yes, absolutely. It was highly probable.

“You must wear a mask,” she commanded.

“Why?”

“You are too ostentatious.”

The corners of An Cuu Uyen’s mouth lifted. “You are complimenting my beauty, are you not?”

“I am saying that if you walk outside, people will crowd you to take photos for social media. Do you think it is appropriate for the God of Beasts to be dragged into the life of an internet celebrity?”

“...That is not appropriate.”

“Then put on the mask.”

An Cuu Uyen sighed, accepting the black mask she tossed him. Once donned, only his amber eyes were visible, which, if anything, made him look even more captivating. Tri Loc Minh sighed and gave up. “Fine. Do as you wish.”

An Cuu Uyen pulled the mask down and offered a faint smile. It was a clumsy, unpracticed expression, as if his facial muscles were still relearning the mechanics of human emotion after thirty thousand years of disuse. Yet, it was beautiful. Tri Loc Minh looked away. “To business,” she said, returning to her seat. “Le Hanh.”

The smile vanished from An Cuu Uyen’s face.

“The Red Moon surveillance team has locked onto his location,” Tri Loc Minh said, opening a map on her tablet. “He is in the ninth basement of Long City, within the restricted zone on the edge of the beastman territory.”

“A restricted zone?”

“Yes. According to intelligence, there is an altar there, abandoned thirty thousand years ago.” She handed him the tablet. “What could Le Hanh possibly want there?”

An Cuu Uyen took the device, his eyes darting to the coordinates. His pupils constricted violently. “Disaster.”

“What is it?”

“That is no ordinary altar. It is the site where I fell.” His voice grew urgent. “My core—the Primordial Power—was sealed there.”

Tri Loc Minh stood up. “You mean—”

“I have recovered ninety-seven percent of my strength,” An Cuu Uyen interrupted, his tone sharp. “The missing three percent was not recovering on its own because my Core was not with me. It was sealed in that altar. Le Hanh intends to steal it.”

“If he obtains that three percent of Primordial Power,” he continued, a cold, killing light swirling in his golden eyes, “it is not like the other fragments. It is the very source of my power. If he secures it, he will hold the key to becoming the next generation’s God of Beasts.”

Tri Loc Minh drew a sharp breath. “Let’s go.”

“Now?”

“Immediately. If we delay, he will reach it.”

An Cuu Uyen did not hesitate. He strode to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist. Space twisted in an instant. When the world solidified again, they stood in the ninth basement of Long City. It was dark, damp, and thick with the scent of ancient earth and spent thunder. A hundred meters ahead, a faint golden light bled through the crevices of a stone door. The altar was inside, and before that door stood a solitary figure. Tall, gaunt, dressed in a black turtleneck.

Le Hanh turned. He had withered away, becoming skin and bone. The last time they met, he had possessed a muscular, six-foot-three frame; now, he looked as if he had been drained of his very essence, his cheekbones protruding sharply and his eyes deeply sunken. But those pale, vertical-slit pupils remained unchanged. Hungry. Deranged.

“You’ve arrived.” Le Hanh cracked a smile, his lips dry and bleeding. “I knew you would come.”

An Cuu Uyen moved Tri Loc Minh behind him. “Le Hanh.” His voice was as frigid as the subterranean cliffs. “You are a fugitive. The fragments within you have been reclaimed. You have no cards left to play. Back away.”

Le Hanh merely laughed.