The elves behind her lowered their heads instinctively, as though hearing a divine song beyond mortal comprehension.
"Mistress," Ye Qingxue called softly, but she only lifted a hand in silent reassurance before continuing forward.
The sound of her boots against the living ground was almost drowned out by the whispering vibration beneath her. The deeper she went, the stronger it became, until the faint thrum seemed to merge with the rhythm of her pulse.
When she was within three meters of the trunk, the earth gave a low, resonant groan.
The roots shifted.
For a moment, Ling Yu froze. The massive, gnarled roots beneath her feet trembled, then coiled slowly, twisting like serpents awakening from slumber. The bark of the colossal trunk split down the middle, not violently, but gently, like an eyelid opening.
A glow emerged from within.
