The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and frost. Ling Xiuyuan led the way down the winding mountain path, his robes flowing with quiet precision. Nie Xiaohuan walked beside him, , eyes scanning the terrain for any sign of unusual activity. Lin Wuyue followed a step behind, her posture straight yet unassuming, glancing occasionally at Xiuyuan as though seeking guidance in every movement.
The path narrowed as they descended, and the three moved in a steady, unspoken rhythm. Xiuyuan spoke little, his focus on the terrain and the distant forest where the haunting tree was said to stand. Nie Xiaohuan finally broke the silence.
"The villagers describe it as a tree that moves at night," he said, his tone level. "Branches twisting, shadows stretching. Some even claim it whispers."
Lin Wuyue's eyes lit up faintly, though she kept her voice soft. "I've read about similar occurrences in remote areas," she said. "Often, the tree itself is not malicious… it can be a vessel for lingering energy, or an imprint left by a cultivator's unresolved practices. Fear can make it seem alive."
"Fear gives it life, yes, but it doesn't explain the clawed impressions in the earth or the scorch marks near its roots. That's not natural." Xiaohuan replied.
Lin Wuyue glanced toward Xiuyuan, who walked silently, hands folded behind him, gaze steady on the path ahead. Her lips curved into a small, tentative smile. "Shixiong… do you sense anything unusual yet?"
Xiuyuan's calm voice broke the tension. "Possibly. But labeling it as danger before observation is premature. We must approach carefully and let it reveal itself first."
Nie Xiaohuan muttered under his breath, but his eyes followed Xiuyuan's unerring focus. Lin Wuyue stepped slightly closer to him, her expression brightening despite the chill in the air. "I hope that one day I can observe with such clarity."
The path soon opened into a small clearing. In the center stood the tree—a gnarled oak, impossibly tall, its bark darkened as if scorched, roots twisting above the earth like knotted fingers. A thin, curling mist swirled around its base, and a faint hum emanated from the hollow trunk.
Nie Xiaohuan stepped forward cautiously, hand brushing the hilt of his sword. "It's worse than the villagers said," he muttered, voice low.
Lin Wuyue's steps faltered slightly, though she maintained her composure. "I… can feel the energy," she said quietly, glancing at Xiuyuan. "Restless… tangled. It doesn't belong here entirely."
Xiuyuan paused, his gaze sweeping over the tree, the roots, the mist curling unnaturally. His voice was calm, deliberate. "Yes. But understanding comes before action. Approach slowly. Let it speak in its own way."
Nie Xiaohuan's eyes flicked toward him. "Whatever's here… it won't surprise you, will it?"
Xiuyuan gave no answer, his hands folding behind him as he studied the tree like a scholar examining an ancient script. Lin Wuyue watched him quietly, a small smile on her lips as if reassurance alone came from his presence.
The sun rose higher, slicing through the mist and illuminating the clearing. The gnarled tree loomed before them, ancient and restless.
Lin Wuyue exhaled, trying to shake off the unease. "Villagers claimed it moves at night, and that whispers come from the hollow. I don't… hear anything yet. Maybe it's just their imagination."
Nie Xiaohuan tilted her head, studying the hollow trunk. "Imagination can sometimes give shape to energy we cannot see… or understand. Perhaps it's simply waiting for… something."
A branch creaked overhead. The mist shifted. And yet, Xiuyuan remained steady, his eyes drinking in every nuance of the scene without haste or alarm. Nie Xiaohuan and Lin Wuyue exchanged a glance—part unease, part respect for the senior's calm.
The clearing was quiet, but the atmosphere carried a weight that pressed gently at the edges of their senses. They would not act yet. The tree had not spoken. And that, in itself, was enough to keep them on edge.
The three stood there for a long moment, waiting, listening, each preparing for what the night—or the tree—might bring, their steps measured, their hearts alert, and the mystery unresolved.
The trio descended from the mountain path into the small village at the edge of the forest. Smoke curled from low thatched roofs, mingling with the morning mist, and the air carried the faint tang of cooking fires and fresh earth. Villagers paused in their work, glancing curiously at the three travelers.
Nie Xiaohuan stepped forward first, bowing slightly to a middle-aged farmer tending his garden. "We seek to understand the disturbances reported near the forest," he said. "May we ask you a few questions?"
The farmer's eyes flicked nervously to the distant treeline. "Aye… strange things have happened," he said, lowering his voice. "The tree… it's not natural. Branches move at night, even when there's no wind. Shadows stretch, and sometimes we hear… whispers. Folk say it calls to people."
Lin Wuyue stepped closer, her gaze steady but gentle. "Whispers?" she repeated softly. "Can you describe what it says, or when you hear it?"
The farmer shook his head. "Not words exactly. Just… sounds that make the skin crawl. Most folks stay inside after dusk. Some refuse to go near it at all. Only the brave—or the foolish—approach."
Xiuyuan, standing a little apart, absorbed the words quietly. His eyes scanned the village, noting the distance from homes to the forest, the layout of paths, and the areas where villagers had reported strange sounds. He asked nothing, only listened, his presence calm and unassuming.
Nie Xiaohuan glanced at him, then back at the farmer. "Have you seen anyone go near the tree recently?"
The farmer's brow furrowed. "A wandering monk passed by… he left early this week. Swore he'd seen something, but wouldn't say more. The rest… stay away. Even the children know better than to play near that clearing."
Lin Wuyue's eyes flickered toward Xiuyuan. "It seems the tree has unsettled everyone. Fear has spread beyond those who saw it directly."
The three moved through the village, passing children playing near the stream, women carrying baskets of vegetables, and men repairing roofs or tending livestock. Everywhere they went, the tension lingered—unspoken, but tangible.
Nie Xiaohuan stopped occasionally to ask specific questions: which paths were safest, where livestock had been missing or disturbed, if any villagers had tried to approach the tree and what they saw. Lin Wuyue listened carefully, noting patterns, quietly asking follow-up questions in a soft, respectful voice.
Xiuyuan walked a little apart, observing quietly. His gaze lingered on the forest edge, the shadows of the trees stretching across the ground. Though he spoke little, every step he took seemed deliberate, measured, as though he were mapping not just the geography, but the energy surrounding the village.
As the sun climbed higher, they made their way to the edge of the village, near the first footpath leading into the forest. Lin Wuyue paused, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "The villagers are terrified," she said softly. "But… some mention a monk. Perhaps someone has tried to investigate before us?"
Nie Xiaohuan's jaw tightened. "Could be. Or could be superstition. Either way, it doesn't change what we need to see for ourselves."
The village inn was small but tidy, the scent of burning wood and simple stew filling the common room. Nie Xiaohuan and Lin Wuyue settled into their rooms for a short rest, while Ling Xiuyuan sat quietly by the window, gazing at the distant forest. Sunlight slanted over the treetops, glinting on the mist that lingered near the clearing, and the gentle hum of village life seemed almost mundane compared to the tension of the coming night.
Xiuyuan's mind was elsewhere, tracing the path to the haunting tree, reviewing the villagers' accounts, the strange scorch marks, the clawed impressions, and the whispered warnings. He leaned back slightly, hands clasped in his lap, calm and still, yet every sense quietly alert.