The river babbled, playing an eternal melody that echoed in Lion's ears.
The old Lion followed the sound of the water, as if he were in a tranquil ink painting.
Time seemed to stand still; he didn't know how long he had slept there, only that his body and mind were surrounded by the endless greenery and the sound of water.
Lion gradually awoke, realizing that he was not a part of this natural symphony, but an independent observer.
He looked around; dense trees obscured the sky, with only dappled sunlight filtering through the branches and falling on him. He found himself sitting on the bank of a small river, its water clear to the bottom, reflecting his slightly pale, aged face.
Lion reached out and touched the soil beneath his feet; it was damp and fertile, exuding the breath of life.
He looked down and saw that he was clad in dark green armor, covered with the marks of time.
This armor seemed to be a part of his body, fused with him. He came to the riverbank and looked at his reflection in the water: a weather-beaten face, deep eyes that seemed to hide countless stories.
Lion didn't know who he was, where he came from, or where he was going.
He only knew that he had to keep moving forward. He stood up, tightened the helmet at his waist, and walked in the direction of the river.
The air in the forest was damp and fresh, occasionally broken by a few bird calls that disturbed the tranquility. Lion continued forward, passing through dense jungle and crossing rushing streams. After an unknown amount of time, he finally saw an ancient castle appear ahead.
The castle stood on an open plain, its tall stone walls and spires seemingly guarding everything within. A small boat was moored on the moat in front of the castle, where a white-haired old man sat fishing, and next to him sat a beautiful black-haired woman.
The old man and the woman were eating boiled edamame from a small stool nearby, looking very relaxed.
The old man held a fishing rod, while the woman held a 'data pad,' from which the sound of a TV drama continuously emanated.
Lion approached and saw that the old man's face was covered with wrinkles, his eyes revealing endless vicissitudes, but on his graying head was a crown: though it was not much more than a golden ring, it was undoubtedly a crown.
And the woman was very beautiful, but her expression hinted at… a feeling that made Lion want to call her 'father'…
"Hello." Lion greeted the old man and the woman.
The old man looked up, glanced at Lion, and then resumed fishing.
The woman, however, looked up and said, "Oh ~ the big kitty is awake?"
Lion didn't mind and walked directly to the riverbank, preparing to wade across.
Just then, he noticed some huge shadows swimming in the water; they seemed very interested in the old man's blood.
He had only taken a few steps into the water, just as the river reached his knees, when he discovered the shadows lurking beneath: huge shadows continuously circling the small boat.
They did not bite the hook, nor did they capsize the small boat carrying the angler, even though both posed an equal danger to the angler.
Not only that, Lion also noticed that the King was already wounded; Lion couldn't see his wound, but he could smell the scent of blood.
A rich, coppery scent tickled his nose. The smell of blood did not excite him, but he did not reject it either. To him, it was merely a scent, a piece of information he could analyze and understand.
The King's blood was dripping into the river, drop by drop. Perhaps this was why the shadows were drawn, or perhaps they were already there.
Some shadows detached themselves from the side of the small boat and began to swim towards Lion.
Lion was not an entity that naturally felt fear, but he also understood the meaning of danger.
He was unfamiliar with the shadows in the water, but their movements looked like those of some kind of predator.
Lion's heart tightened; he knew he had to get closer to the old man quickly. He took a deep breath and leaped into the water.
"Come back to shore."
Lion sharply turned his head. A small figure stood on the bank, clad in a dark green robe, as if blending into the background. The figure looked like a child, but Lion knew it was something else.
It was a Dark Watcher.
"Come back to shore," the Watcher repeated.
Although its communication could hardly be called a sound, it did not speak aloud; instead, Lion's mind directly received and understood its message.
But a growing urgency could still be sensed. Lion realized that he was not one to turn and flee in the face of a challenge, yet he also did not want to ignore the Dark Watcher. It felt like a connection he had experienced before, a connection he should remember.
He turned around and returned to the shore. The shadows that had been coming towards him hesitated for a moment, then turned back towards the King and woman in the boat.
"They will tear you apart," the Watcher said.
Lion knew it was referring to the shadows.
At this moment, his mind was a jumble of sensations, the aftereffects of communicating with the Watcher. Among them was a faint hint of disgust, and also fear.
"What is this place?" Lion asked.
The Watcher: "Home."
Lion waited until he realized that was the Watcher's complete answer. From the Watcher's perspective, this was not all the information Lion wanted, but it was all it could give.
Lion looked at the King in the river. The old man was still hunched over, clutching his fishing rod, blood continuously dripping into the water from his wound. The woman, however, paid no attention to the old man's wound, merely putting the headphones from around her neck back on her head.
However, the next second, the green shadow in the lake bit the old man's fishhook, or rather, the fishhook actively hooked the green shadow. The woman only looked up, and the green shadow in the lake, hooked, was in great pain.
"It seems there will be no more diseases…"
Hearing what the woman said, Lion became a little anxious at this point, so he asked, "Why are they ignoring me? What does the woman's statement mean?"
"You are asking them the wrong questions."
Lion looked around. The shadows in the water still circled; wading directly across did not seem wise. But he also saw no bridges or other boats on the river.
He also had no tools to build boats or bridges from the surrounding giant trees, and the knowledge of these methods was not easily accessible in his mind. He was not like some of his brothers who were born with the ability to create… his brothers. Who were his brothers?
Faces flashed through his thoughts, like wisps of smoke in a storm. He could not grasp those thoughts, nor could he synthesize them into anything meaningful.
The tranquility brought by the sound of the trickling water was gone, replaced by confusion and frustration. Nevertheless, Lion would not return to his previous state. Willingly submitting to ignorance was not his way.
He glimpsed a patch of snow-white in the forest, on his side of the bank. He left the river behind; he could always find it again, he remembered the river's song, and walked towards the forest.
The plants in the forest were thick and green, but he was strong and resolute. He ducked under thorns, swept aside hanging branches, avoiding breaking any, as the corrosive sap of these plants could even damage his armor.
He wasn't surprised why he knew these things. The Watcher had said this was home.
The Watcher was left behind him, but it always reappeared from the edge of the shadows. It said nothing until Lion had passed through the intricate thorns and clearly saw what he had glimpsed earlier.
It was another building, or at least the dome of another building. That was all he could see from here. It was a dome made of elegant white stone, supported by columns beneath it.
Earlier he had to carve his own path through the forest, but now there was a clean path before him, flanked by neatly trimmed bushes and tree trunks. The path wound forward, and Lion knew that at its end was the snow-white building.
"Don't go that way," the Watcher warned him. "You are not strong enough yet."
Lion looked down at the diminutive creature, barely knee-high. Then he took a deep breath, stretching his shoulders.
He guessed he had once been young, as he now looked old. Perhaps he was stronger when he was young. Nevertheless, he felt no weakness at all.
"You don't need that kind of strength."
Lion narrowed his eyes: "Then what do you want me to do?"
"Follow your nature."
Lion took another breath, ready to blurt out an answer. He found that just as he hated being ignored, he also hated being denied. But he suddenly stopped, then twitched his nose and sniffed.
He sniffed again… something was wrong.
He was in a dense jungle; naturally, there should be scents of life and death. But his nose caught something different: a faint, nauseating odor. A stench that did not belong to natural decay or putrefaction. The smell was more pungent, more unsettling.
"Corruption."
This was something discordant and twisted. This belonged to something that should not be here, something that should not even exist.
Lion knew what he had to do. He had to follow his nature.
The hunter stepped forward, beginning to pursue his prey… Seeing Lion walk away, the Emperor picked up the'Sanpao Tai' from a teacup nearby and took a sip.
Sanguinius, meanwhile, paused the TV show on her tablet, looked up, and asked:
"The panacea is back, and my husband has sorted out the local specialties he brought me. Is your eldest son doing okay? I just took a look; he's so old now he could play the grandfather in 'Heidi and Grandpa.'"
The Emperor said nothing, merely leaning back in the fishing chair… After a long silence… "Are you referring to the Fuji TV animated version of 'Heidi, Girl of the Alps,' or the movie version?"
"The movie version…"
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