The four moved swiftly through the forest path, their steps muffled by damp earth. Mist pooled low to the ground, coiling around their ankles like pale serpents. The moon hung high and thin, its light fractured through the bare branches above.
Xiuyuan walked ahead, silent and composed, the faint glow of his spiritual energy tracing pale arcs in the air as he led. Lin Wuyue followed close behind, expression steady, though her fingers tightened on her sword hilt. Nie Xiaohuan carried the lantern again, its blue flame flickering erratically as if uneasy beneath the trees.
Shen Lianxiu trailed them, breath shallow, trying to keep quiet—but each rustle of his robes sounded too loud in the thick quiet. The forest swallowed every sound too quickly. Even the night insects were silent.
At last, Lin Wuyue broke the stillness."Xioahuan… what exactly did that man see?"
Nie Xiaohuan's voice was low. "He said the roots moved. They wrapped around a deer. When he ran, he heard… laughter."
The word hung in the air like frost.
Xiuyuan did not slow. "Be steady. The spirit feeds on fear."
Wuyue's gaze flicked toward him—his calmness was a steady flame in the dark—but even she could feel the unease threading through the air, a wrongness that seemed to pulse with each breath they took.
When they reached the clearing, the tree was waiting.
It loomed impossibly tall, its trunk gleaming with wetness though no rain had fallen. Beneath its roots, the earth rose and fell faintly, as though something beneath it breathed. The branches were bare, yet from them hung scraps of cloth, tattered and pale—remnants of offerings, perhaps, or of something else entirely.
Lianxiu shivered. "That's… it?"
"Do not speak," Xiuyuan said softly.
He stepped forward, robes whispering against the grass. The mist parted around him as he raised his hand, forming a seal. Spiritual light gathered at his fingertips, a quiet golden pulse that illuminated the grooves in the bark—grooves that almost looked like ribs.
The ground trembled.
A low moan shuddered through the air, rising from deep within the roots. Xiaohuan's lantern guttered. The blue flame turned violet, then black for a breath before reigniting.
"Shixiong—something's draining it," Xiaohuan hissed.
"I know." Xiuyuan's voice was calm, but his pupils had narrowed, reflecting the faint shimmer beneath the soil.
Wuyue drew her sword. The blade thrummed in resonance, its edge gleaming like captured moonlight. "It's alive."
"No," Xiuyuan murmured, "it's trapped."
Then the tree opened its mouth.
The bark split along an invisible seam, and the hollow inside was no longer wood—it was a dark tunnel, slick and glistening. From within, a wind poured out, cold as death and filled with whispers. It spoke no words they could understand, only fragments—pleading, calling, weeping.
Lianxiu clutched at Xiaohuan's sleeve before he realized what he'd done, then quickly pulled away, face flushed. "S-sorry…"
But Xiuyuan didn't even glance at him. His gaze was fixed upon the hollow, his aura expanding, a golden light unfurling from his form like wings."Stand back," he said.
He stepped forward into the mist. Each motion was deliberate, precise—his hand pressed a talisman to the ground, the runes glowing faintly. The soil hissed as if recoiling from light.
The faces came next.
They bloomed across the trunk, faint outlines at first—then clearer, each face twisted, silent mouths moving in perfect unison. Lin Wuyue drew in a sharp breath. "Souls. They're bound into it."
"Who could have—" Xiaohuan began, but his words ended in a gasp as the ground burst open.
Roots whipped outward, thin and sharp as blades. One lashed toward Lianxiu.Xiuyuan's hand moved before thought—his sleeve flaring as he cut the root clean through with a sweep of his spiritual energy.
The root writhed, oozing black sap that smoked when it touched the air.
The air thickened.The wind stopped.And then—
A voice, clear and low, came from the hollow."Why… do you disturb us?"
All four froze.
Even the mist seemed to pause, holding its breath.
The ground shivered again. The tree's trunk stretched upward, bark cracking, faces melting together into one vast visage that stared down at them with empty sockets.
Wuyue's blade flared, and Xiaohuan's lantern roared back to life, the blue fire now a beacon against the dark. But Xiuyuan remained utterly still.
He closed his eyes for one breath, then spoke, voice low but clear.
"Then let this binding end."
He thrust the blade of his will downward, and golden light erupted from the talisman circle. The roots screamed—an inhuman, tearing sound that scattered the mist. Black sap burned to ash; the faces dissolved into motes of light that drifted upward, fading into the night sky like fallen stars.
When silence finally returned, the clearing was still. Only the faint smell of ash and rain lingered.
Lianxiu was the first to speak, voice trembling with awe. "You didn't even draw your sword…"
Xiuyuan turned to him, gaze softening slightly. "The sword is not always made of steel."
Lianxiu blinked, unsure if it was a lesson or a rebuke.
Nie Xiaohuan approached carefully, inspecting the scorched soil. "It's quiet now. But the spirit's resentment was strong—Shixiong, are you sure it's gone?"
Xiuyuan's eyes lingered on the tree's hollow, now empty and dark."No. It isn't gone," he said softly. "It's sleeping."
Lin Wuyue exhaled, sheathing her sword. "Then what now?"
"Now," Xiuyuan replied, turning away, his voice barely audible over the wind, "we wait to see what it dreams."
Behind him, Lianxiu glanced back at the silent tree. For just an instant, he thought he saw something move in the hollow—something pale and human-shaped.
But when he blinked, there was nothing at all.