A Song for The Ages

The cavern was as silent as ever.

A vast, endless darkness, stretching deeper and deeper into the unknown.

But Feiyin was no longer the same boy who had collapsed in exhaustion after slaying the centipede. His body had recovered, his wounds fully scabbed over and healed thanks to his perfectly tempered physique. His third meridian had been opened, his strength deepened, his control honed. His senses, both physical and internal, had sharpened, allowing him to navigate the dark with clarity that would have been impossible before.

Now, it was time to move.

Feiyin knelt beside the centipede's remains, his hands working methodically. The stench of blood had long settled into the air, but he ignored it, focused on securing provisions.

Using the bladed mandible he had taken from the beast, he sliced thin strips of flesh from the remaining carcass. It had kept him alive this long, and while the raw, rubbery texture still made his stomach churn, he couldn't afford to be picky.

Survival didn't care for preferences.

After cutting enough to last him for several days, he used the majority what was left of his upper clothing, already torn and ragged, to fashion a makeshift pouch. He wrapped the meat tightly, securing it with knots, ensuring it wouldn't easily slip loose during his journey.

His bare torso was exposed to the cavern's cold, but he hardly felt it. His inner strength flowed smoothly, keeping his body warm, keeping his muscles from stiffening.

Finally, he took the sturdiest, sharpest mandible from the centipede's remains and tested its edge against his palm.

Sharp. Durable. Lethal.

A weapon.

He gripped it tightly, adjusting his hold until it felt natural in his hand. It wasn't a saber, nor was it as balanced as a proper blade, but it would serve.

His preparations were complete.

Feiyin took one last look at the cavern that had been both his prison and sanctuary.

Then, he turned and strode into the tunnels.

The deeper he ventured, the more he relied on his senses rather than his sight.

His eyes, even as sharp as they were from his perfected body tempering, could only catch the faintest outlines in the absolute darkness. Shadows shifted, twisting with each step, and if he relied solely on them, he would have quickly lost his way.

Instead, he listened.

The air carried the whispers of the cavern, every shift in temperature, every distant drip of water from unseen cracks in the stone.

And more than that, he felt.

His oscillation sense pulsed outward, mapping his surroundings through vibrations. Every uneven stone, every jagged outcrop, every faint movement of something alive, it all formed an intricate web of information in his mind.

He moved cautiously, but not fearfully.

His injuries had taught him well, recklessness meant death.

So he advanced with purpose, his steps light, measured, controlled.

The tunnels were not uniform. Some paths were narrow, forcing him to turn his shoulders sideways just to squeeze through. Others were vast, stretching so high that he couldn't feel the ceiling above him.

At times, he paused, pressing a hand to the stone walls, listening to the frequency of the earth, searching for paths that led upward rather than deeper down.

But it wasn't so simple.

Most tunnels sloped downward. A bad sign.

The more he descended, the further he would stray from where he needed to be.

'I can't afford to go the wrong way. I need to get back to them.'

Ren, Yue, Shen Mo, the others, they had escaped.

He had seen to that.

But he didn't know if they were safe.

And his parents…

His grip tightened on the mandible blade.

They're strong. They had to be.

His father was a warrior, a general. His mother was a noble cultivator, wise and sharp. They wouldn't fall so easily.

But he had seen them bleed.

He had seen the village burn.

And he had seen himself taken.

He forced the thoughts aside. Dwelling on them wouldn't help. Surviving would.

So he kept moving, kept searching.

Hours passed. Maybe longer. There was no way to tell time in the suffocating dark.

The tunnels wound endlessly, branching in unpredictable patterns. Some led to dead ends, others to narrow crawlspaces, and a few even opened into massive underground caverns, echoing with the distant sounds of creatures lurking beyond his perception.

At one point, he encountered a pool of stagnant water, the surface barely visible in the dim awareness of his oscillation sense.

He knelt by the edge, dipping his fingers into the liquid.

Cold.

Not completely still, something moved beneath.

He didn't linger.

Better to be thirsty than to risk poisoning himself.

Instead, he chewed on another strip of centipede flesh, letting the moisture sustain him a little longer.

And then,

A change.

A breeze.

Feiyin froze.

Air moved through the tunnel ahead.

A faint, subtle current, barely perceptible.

He inhaled slowly.

It wasn't fresh air, not from the surface. But it was different from the stale, heavy stillness of the caverns.

A new passage.

Possibly a way out.

His heartbeat quickened.

He followed it.

With each step, the sensation grew stronger. The tunnels widened slightly, the walls smoothing out, as if shaped by something other than nature.

And then,

His oscillation sense flickered.

Something shifted ahead.

Not stone. Not air.

Something alive.

Feiyin stilled, lowering himself slightly, his body tensed.

Predator or prey?

He focused, honing his senses.

A faint, rhythmic pattern. Shallow breaths. Subtle movements.

Small. Numerous.

Not one. Not two.

Many.

He felt the stirrings of small creatures, clustered together, their oscillations faint but clear.

They hadn't noticed him yet.

Feiyin exhaled slowly, his grip steady on the mandible blade.

Whatever was ahead, he would deal with it.

He had no other choice.

And so, with quiet determination, he took another step forward, toward the unknown.

,

Feiyin remained still in the shadows, his breathing steady, his gaze and oscillation sense fixed on the chaos before him.

Two factions of snakes were locked in a vicious struggle, their bodies twisting and writhing in a violent clash of fangs and scales.

On one side, green-scaled serpents, their bodies sleek and agile, striking like whips with uncanny speed. On the other, brown-scaled snakes, bulkier and heavier, their fangs longer, their bites deeper.

They coiled, lunged, tore at each other, the cavern filling with the sound of hissing, snapping jaws, and the dull thuds of bodies slamming against stone.

Feiyin stayed hidden, pressed against the rough cavern wall, watching, waiting.

There was no reason to interfere.

If he tried to move past them now, he would only become prey.

Instead, he studied their movements, the way they fought.

The green-scaled snakes were faster, more agile, relying on speed and precision to strike at the weaknesses of their bulkier opponents. The brown-scaled ones, however, were sturdier, more relentless, absorbing hits and retaliating with powerful, crushing force.

It was an even battle, for a while.

Then, gradually, the fighting slowed.

Bodies littered the cavern floor. Some twitched weakly, others lay motionless, lifeless.

And finally, as if a silent agreement had been made, the survivors from both sides began to retreat, slithering away into the darkness.

Each group took what they could, the fallen of their own kind, the spoils of the battle, and disappeared back into their respective tunnels.

And then, silence.

Feiyin exhaled.

He was about to step forward, to move past the bloodied battlefield, when something shifted.

A faint, slow movement.

He stilled, his eyes narrowing.

Something was still here.

At the edge of the cavern, near the retreating green-scaled snakes, a small, white-scaled serpent lay on the ground, barely moving.

It was smaller than the others, perhaps young, its sleek body marred by deep gashes and bleeding wounds.

Feiyin watched as it tried to move, its frail body trembling, dragging itself across the stone toward the departing green-scaled snakes.

But they didn't stop for it.

Not even once.

Feiyin's heart clenched as the white-scaled snake struggled forward, its body weak, its movements desperate, but completely ignored.

He felt a pang deep in his chest.

The way it reached out, only to be left behind.

Abandoned.

Alone.

Something in Feiyin ached at the sight.

His own isolation, the suffocating loneliness of being trapped underground, away from his home, his parents, his friends, it all resonated painfully in this single moment.

Before he even realized it, his hand was reaching into his pouch.

He pulled out a strip of dried centipede meat, his fingers tightening around it.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward.

The white-scaled snake stiffened.

Its weary eyes flickered open, its body tensing despite its wounds.

Feiyin stopped a few feet away, crouching low.

He didn't move any closer, not yet.

Instead, he gently placed the strip of meat on the ground and nudged it forward, letting the scent waft toward the injured serpent.

The snake reacted immediately, its weakened body coiling defensively, its small head rising slightly.

It hissed, though the sound was barely more than a weak whisper.

Feiyin didn't blame it.

It was scared.

Cornered, injured, alone, just like he had been.

He settled himself onto the stone floor, keeping his posture open, unthreatening.

Then, in the softest voice he could manage, he spoke.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

The snake's tail flicked slightly, its small body still taut with tension.

Feiyin nudged the meat a little closer.

"You're hurt," he murmured. "You need to eat."

The snake remained frozen, its slitted eyes locked onto him.

Feiyin didn't push.

He simply waited.

Minutes passed.

Then, slowly, the white-scaled snake's head lowered, its body still trembling with exhaustion.

Its tongue flicked out, once, twice, tasting the air.

And then, with hesitant movements, it slithered forward just enough to grab the strip of meat in its jaws.

Feiyin exhaled silently.

It wasn't trust, not yet. But it was a start.

The snake swallowed weakly, its body still tense, its gaze flickering between Feiyin and the cavern around them.

As it ate, Feiyin reached toward his torn upper clothes, pulling at another strip of fabric.

He had very little left, but he could still use it.

He carefully tore a thin piece, wrapping it around his fingers.

Then, moving as gently as possible, he reached forward.

The snake immediately tensed again, its body coiling, its fangs baring slightly.

Feiyin stilled, waiting for it to calm.

"I need to wrap your wounds," he said softly. "I won't hurt you."

The snake remained wary, but as the moments passed, its aggression didn't escalate.

Feiyin took that as permission.

Slowly, carefully, he began to bandage the worst of its wounds.

The fabric was crude, not nearly as effective as proper medicine, but it was better than nothing.

The snake flinched at first, but didn't attack.

Feiyin worked quickly, his hands precise, steady.

When he finished, he sat back, watching the small creature.

The snake stared back at him, its golden eyes unreadable.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

Then, to his quiet surprise, the snake didn't retreat.

It remained curled near him, its body still weak but no longer as tense.

Feiyin felt something in his chest loosen just a little.

He didn't know why he had helped it.

Maybe because he saw himself in it.

Maybe because he knew what it felt like to be left behind.

Or maybe because, deep down, he didn't want to be alone anymore.

Whatever the reason,

He was glad he had.