Before the echo of the howls had faded from the air, the caravan was swinging into motion. "Positions!" Han roared, his voice cutting through the sudden flurry of shouts and creaking wood. "Riders, secure the flanks! Archers, to your posts! Everyone else, stay in the wagons, weapons ready!"

Around them, the caravan was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. Four of the eight guards Han had pointed out earlier nimbly scaled the open-topped wagons, short bows already in hand. One clambered onto the driver's bench of their lead wagon, nodding curtly to Han before scanning the woods. Another took up a position on the rearmost cart, while the remaining two spread out amongst the middle of the convoy. The other four guards, armed with long spears and, in two cases, swords sheathed at their hips, took up positions on foot, moving to cover the gaps between the wagons.

This was no panicked scramble; every movement was efficient, honed by experience. Clearly, this wasn't the first time Han Shu's caravan had faced the threat of an attack. The disciplined response was a stark contrast to the rising fear Jiang could feel prickling from the other, less seasoned passengers huddled in the wagons.

From his father's stories, Jiang knew that having eight guards at all was actually rather unusual for a caravan of this size – after all, every guard hired cut heavily into the profits for each journey, and if they weren't attacked, the men were essentially being paid to do nothing. Many caravan masters used this as an excuse to skimp on protection, relying on sheer numbers to dissuade attacks or occasionally just passing out spears to anyone willing to defend themselves.

He was impressed Han clearly hadn't fallen into the same trap – he may be chattier than Jiang would prefer, but the man clearly knew what he was doing.

The ratcheting click of crossbows readying themselves had Jiang turning in his seat to see that the lead wagon was not the only one to have a weapon close at hand. Nearly every wagon, he noted with a flicker of surprise, had some form of ranged defence.

The howls came again, closer this time, a symphony of hunger and predatory intent. Han cursed under his breath as the oxen tugged nervously at their harnesses, cracking the reins to urge them onwards. "This is a bad spot to be attacked," he muttered to Jiang, scanning the trees around them. "Too narrow, too much cover. They'll be right on us before we can blink, let alone think about defending – and if the beasts manage to kill any of the oxen pulling the front wagons, all the rest behind us will be trapped. There's a clearing a few miles up ahead. If we can get to that, we can form a circle and use the wagons as a defensive line."

He spared Jiang a look. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to lend a hand to the defence, make sure we make it that far?" he asked lightly.

"I'll do my best," Jiang replied absently, not looking away from the trees and thus missing the relieved expression that flickered across Han's face. His Qi senses were frustratingly vague right now – able to roughly indicate the direction of the spirit beasts but not their actual location. Honestly, beyond providing warning of the attack, Jiang wasn't really sure how much help he would be. The last encounter he'd had with aggressive spirit beasts had almost been his last – would have been if it weren't for all the other cultivators that had been with him.

He was a long way from being able to toss lighting or fire around, and his half-assed stealth technique wasn't likely to be helpful in actual combat. Jiang's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, and he nervously pulled it an inch from the scabbard before dropping it again. He didn't even really know how to use the damn thing anyway.

Still, he wasn't the type of person to sit back and let others face danger for him.

The first of the wolves appeared a few moments later. Just a flicker of movement in the underbrush, too fast for the eye to track, gone before the eye could confirm. Then another. And another. Shapes weaving through the trees, silent, low to the ground. The oxen, sensitive to the presence of predators, were becoming increasingly skittish, heads tossing, wide eyes rolling. The thick leather traces creaked under strain, and the lead pair began to swerve. Han swore, yanked the reins, and clicked his tongue sharply, muttering under his breath.

"Hold steady, you bastards. Come on."

A wolf darted forward from the cover of the trees, teeth bared, then peeled off before reaching the line of wagons. One of the guards standing near the front cart raised his spear defensively but didn't move from his position.

Another shadow bolted from the trees, circling close to the rear wagons before vanishing again. The howls came in waves now—some close, others distant. They echoed oddly in the narrow road, making it hard to pin down where they came from.

The guards adjusted without being told. The bowmen shifted positions, scanning the trees, nocking arrows but holding fire. One of the crossbows fired with a muted twang, the bolt burying itself in the snow right by one of the wolves. It yelped and jumped backwards, but recovered quickly. Clearly, these wolves wouldn't be scared off easily.

Jiang strained his eyes, peering through the dense underbrush. It was hard to get an accurate count of how large this pack was, but… it was large. Larger than most, even – no doubt because of the spirit beast directing them—

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Jiang frowned, focusing on his Qi senses. No. It wasn't a spirit beast; it was three of them – similar enough that he hadn't noticed the distinction at first.

That… wasn't ideal.

Of course, it wasn't all bad news – technically speaking, that meant each of the spirit beasts was weaker than he'd thought, and it was their combined strength that he had noticed.

In the time it took Jiang to realise that, the wolves had gotten bolder. There were more of them now, or at least more of them were attacking at the same time. Dark grey shapes slipped through the treeline at the edge of the track, darting at the guards or the oxen before slipping away. They were still cautious, still searching for weaknesses, had yet to commit to an attack.

Fortunately, Han had selected the guards well, and his crew were clearly no amateurs. The drivers were focused on keeping the oxen moving, trusting the guards to defend them, while the guards themselves were keeping their cool, not allowing themselves to overcommit. Jiang admired them, particularly the ones on the ground with the spears. Having to keep track of the wolves, their fellow defenders, as well as keeping up with the moving caravan on foot was not an easy task – but they barely even seemed nervous.

Jiang shifted his weight, eyes sweeping the treeline again. The normal wolves were not a problem – or rather, they were a manageable problem. The bigger concern was if – or when – the spirit beasts decided to stop hanging back. He could feel the pulse of it – the staggered rhythm of the feints, the timing of the charges, the way pressure built at the flanks and softened just before the guards shifted to meet it. They were being herded. Tested.

The trees were beginning to thin out a little, just enough that Jiang could see the spirit beasts. If it weren't for his Qi senses, he would have thought them normal wolves – larger than the rest, certainly, but otherwise nothing special. But he could feel their predatory intent, the cold, focused hunger in their aura. They wouldn't wait for long.

Jiang turned, eyes locking on the bowman crouched beside him on the wagon's bench. The man had loosed two arrows so far, neither of which had hit. His hand was steady enough, but he wasn't adjusting properly for the wolves' movement, and the dim light made everything worse.

"Give me the bow," Jiang said.

The guard blinked at him, clearly not expecting the request. His grip didn't loosen, though he did spare a quick glance at Han. "Uh, look, kid, you don't have to worry, we've got this under control—" the man began hesitantly.

Jiang rolled his eyes and cut him off. "I'm not a kid, and I need your bow. You're not hitting anything, and you're standing on the front wagon. You're not going to get a better shot than I will." Jiang kept his tone even, though the tension in his frame had begun to creep higher. "And I can sense where the real threat is."

The man hesitated, gaze flicking back to Han.

Han didn't look over, but he gave a short, sharp nod. "Give it to him."

With clear reluctance, the guard handed it over, along with the small quiver of arrows hanging from the rail. Jiang took it without comment, shifting his stance slightly to get a better angle on the treeline. The bow was nothing special – solid enough, short draw, decent string tension. Similar quality to his father's bow, and considering how that one hadn't held up to his strength, he would have to be careful.

Still, as long as he didn't rush his shots, it should be fine. In hindsight, half the reason his previous bow had broken was because he was snapping shots off too quickly and not using proper form. He'd gripped too tightly, pulled back too far. This time, he would be careful.

He closed his eyes briefly, feeling out the three threads of pressure. Still stationary. Still watching. His breathing slowed. The first arrow came up, fingers adjusting grip by feel.

He loosed.

The bow creaked, wood straining. The arrow vanished into the trees. A second later, a sharp yelp rang out from the right flank. Not the panicked cry of a wolf injured in the leg – deeper, rawer.

Hit.

But he hadn't forgotten how little his arrows had done the last time he'd faced a spirit beast, so he didn't hesitate in nocking another arrow to the string. He drew again, slower this time. Lined the second shot to the left flank, where the second presence hovered.

Loosed.

This one was harder to judge, but a twitch in his senses, a sudden ripple in the energy of the pack, confirmed it – another hit.

The third spirit beast moved.

Jiang's eyes snapped to the treeline as it emerged, low and fast, fur like frost-rimed ash, jaws wide. The other two followed a beat behind, all three of them angling straight for the caravan's heart.

Not for the wagons.

For him.

"Han—"

"I see them!" the caravan master yelled back, holding the reins in one hand and bringing the crossbow up in the other.

The oxen jerked against the reins, spooked by the sudden charge. They weren't the only ones. Two of the guards shouted a warning too late, weapons raised but not in time. The spirit beasts hit the line like thrown stones, fast enough that even Jiang's senses struggled to keep up.

The first went high, crashing into one of the rear guards—a thick-set older man with a heavy spear—just as the beast would've bowled over the younger boy beside him. The old guard took the full weight of the strike. His chest folded inward under the impact, and he hit the ground hard, unmoving.

The second beast tore through the gap that was left behind, jaws snapping wide. Another guard slashed with a sword, caught it across the flank, but it barely staggered. It didn't even slow down. Blood pattered the snow in its wake as it raked claws across the swordsman's side, sending him crumpling into the snow.

The third beast completely ignored the mortal guards, gleaming eyes locked on Jiang as it cut a line through the snow directly towards him.

His body moved before he'd even fully processed the situation. The borrowed bow clattered on the wagon floor behind him, but he didn't even spare it a glance.

His hand closed on the hilt at his waist, and this time, he drew without hesitation. The weight of the sword felt wrong—too new, too smooth, nothing like the old bow that had shaped the last few years of his life—but he didn't let that stop him.

He stepped to the wagon's edge. He could see the muscles of the third spirit beast bunching as it prepared to leap, hear the crunch of the snow beneath its paws, feel the pounding of his heart. None of it mattered.

He leapt.

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