She's gone
Cangshan tribe.
Heavy rains continued and mountain torrents swept through, destroying one cave after another.
Now, only half of the tribe members are left alive, all huddled together deep in Mo Yan's cave, the damp air filled with suppressed gasps.
Thunder roared outside the cave and the faint torches flickered.
Xishan hunched his body and hugged the cub tightly in his arms.
She slowly turned her head to look at her male. Her sunken cheeks made her eyes look frighteningly large, and her voice was hoarse as if she had swallowed gravel. "Anything else to eat?"
A skinny gray wolf cub twisted uncomfortably in her arms, whimpering faintly.
She only had one male left, but he wasn't a gray wolf, but a young snake orc.
He shook his head, swallowing his tongue nervously, looking out of the deep cave. The muscles beneath his scales were trembling with tension, and he muttered, "There's no food left in the tribe."
At the entrance of the cave, Mo Yan coiled his scarlet body quietly, looking at the sky and earth blurred by the heavy rain.
He was waiting, waiting for this seemingly endless rainstorm to stop, or... for the next flood.
Gui supported the weak Lan and walked out from the depths of the cave. Listening to the footsteps, Mo Yan transformed into a human form.
His long hair cascaded down his shoulders, and his sinister face was filled with fatigue. He turned to look at Gui Helan, his scarlet eyes filled with weariness. "Why did you come out?"
Looking at her son's slightly sunken cheeks, Lan's throat rolled slightly, and she felt a little heartbroken.
She whispered, "Go back."
Mo Yan lowered his eyelashes silently, and his fingertips tightened slightly.
Gui smiled bitterly: "There is no food left in the tribe, Mo Yan..."
As a leader, isn't it a torment to let the people in your tribe not have enough to eat?
Lan gritted his teeth, a fierce look suddenly flashing in his eyes: "Then kill those people from the Xishan tribe!"
Mo Yan raised his head suddenly, his scarlet pupils shrinking drastically: "Do you know what you are saying? They are alive..."
"A living orc?" Lan continued with a low laugh.
"Mo Yan, they are just an exiled tribe that came to seek refuge with the Cangshan tribe. Tengdu has already abandoned them. In the Orc Continent, staying alive is the most important thing, isn't it?"
The rainstorm howled, bringing with it a slight smell of blood, as if responding to her words.
Mo Yan fell silent, with light and shadow flickering in his scarlet eyes.
He knew better than anyone that the orcs lived in a world where the strong preyed on the weak and showed no mercy to the weak. Slaughtering tribes was common, but only to hunt orcs and make them their own food...
Once you cross that line, there's no turning back.
But the people in the tribe...
At this moment, a clear and ethereal shout came from outside the tribe, breaking the entanglement of several people.
"Fuying——"
The sound was like the wind blowing through the mountains, or like the gentle clanging of bone bells, with an indescribable purity.
When Mo Yan heard the name, his whole body trembled, and his scarlet eyes suddenly shrank into a thin line.
Lan and Gui looked towards the source of the sound at the same time.
Over there, a slender figure walked slowly towards them in the rain, his outline as tall and lonely as a cedar.
He did not hold an umbrella and let himself be soaked by the rain. The heavy rain slid down his superior brow bones, reflecting a cold light on the bridge of his nose. The long flaxen hair behind him was soaked and had a shiny look.
His gray-brown eyes were cold and lazy, but his pupils shrank quietly in the dark, locking everything in the tribe into his field of vision. That was the alertness unique to cat-type orcs.
The rain rolled down his long eyelashes, but did not affect his sharp vision at all.
Mo Yan looked at Qinglan who suddenly appeared in the tribe and frowned: "It's you?"
He remembered him, the snow leopard orc of the Frostfield Tribe, the one who was sick with the plague.
Qinglan stood in the rain, his voice was soft, but every word was clear: "I'm looking for Fuying."
He paused, his Adam's apple rolling: "Is she... back?"
Qinglan seemed to be staring at Mo Yan calmly, but his hands hanging by his sides were clenched so tightly that the knuckles turned white. The lines of his elegant back were extremely tense, for fear of hearing an answer he didn't want to hear.
Mo Yan looked at him coldly: "She's gone."
Qinglan's pupils suddenly constricted, and his gray-brown pupils trembled slightly, like a cat whose tail was stepped on.
"Gone?" His voice suddenly rose, trailing with fear. "When did it happen?"
As he spoke, he unconsciously took half a step forward, and his long flaxen hair shook out tiny water droplets, and the cool and lazy look he had just had was completely shattered in an instant.
Mo Yan didn't hide it and said directly: "Before the flash flood arrived."
Qinglan's finger bones made a crisp sound, and his upright figure suddenly hunched over.
He coughed violently, and a mouthful of blood splashed into the muddy water, staining it a glaring red.
"She didn't come back..." He murmured in a low voice, his voice hoarse: "She really... didn't come back."
Rain mixed with blood slid down from the corners of his lips. His gray-brown eyes, which were always cold and seemed unperturbed by anything, were now greatly distracted.
Mo Yan frowned, and suddenly had a bad feeling in his heart.
He ignored Gui and Lan's dissuasion and stepped forward to pull Qinglan out of the rain.
"What happened? Did something happen to Fu Ying?" Mo Yan's voice was cold and his fingertips trembled uncontrollably.
Before he could finish his words, Qinglan grabbed his arm, his fingertips almost digging into Mo Yan's flesh.
He raised his head, his long, wet flaxen hair clinging to his pale cheeks. His handsome features were now filled with hope, his gray-brown pupils like an oil lamp. He asked cautiously, "Where's Teng?"
His voice was hoarse, but with a firmness that was almost obsessive: "As long as Teng is fine, she will be fine."
"What happened to Fu Ying?!" Mo Yan asked sternly, his scarlet eyes full of tension.
Qinglan suddenly broke free from Mo Yan's hand, staggered towards the tribe and shouted: "Teng——"
His long flaxen hair fluttered wildly in the rain. He was once an elegant snow leopard, but now he looked like a trapped beast on the verge of death. His voice was broken and out of tune: "Teng—you come out—come out!"
The tribe was dead silent. There was no response, and no sign of Teng.
Qinglan's cries gradually became weaker and finally disappeared.
Suddenly, his body shook, and he fell to his knees in the mud, turning into a beast.
The snow leopard lay silently in the puddles, its ears pressed tightly against its head, trembling uncontrollably. Its long tail seemed to have lost its strength, hanging wetly on the dirty water surface.
Mo Yan angrily asked, "What happened to Fu Ying? Did something happen to her?"
Qinglan raised his head, his round, animal eyes reflecting Mo Yan's furious face, and he stubbornly repeated, "Where's Teng?"
Mo Yan frowned, his voice equally hoarse: "They left together."
Looking at Qinglan's animal eyes that dimmed instantly, Mo Yan said in a deep voice: "I can find Teng, but you have to tell me, what happened to Fuying?"
Fu Ying is the most powerful wizard, how could something go wrong?
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