He had never imagined himself in such a desperate state, yet here he was.
Finally, they left human territory behind and reached the most difficult part of the journey—the mountain pass.
The forests that stretched at its base were home to large monsters.
Ignatius took the whistle that was hanging around his neck and handed it to Shen Xinghui.
This was a special whistle, one that only members of his kind could hear.
It served both as a call for help and as a mark of connection.
The whistle itself was crafted from his own condensed magic, and possessing it signified a deep bond—either as a lover or someone of equivalent importance.
Even if something were to happen to him, as long as Shen Xinghui held onto the whistle, he would be safely escorted to Ignatius's estate, where he could live in comfort.
Shen Xinghui held the whistle up to the sunlight, examining it with curiosity.
The sight was so endearing that Ignatius couldn't help but smile.
