Morning mist clung to the village like a wet blanket. Lin Ziao stepped out into the cold air, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. People had stopped whispering when he passed—but not because they weren't thinking about him. It was the kind of silence that said everything.
He tightened the strap on his vest and slung his spear across his back. Peng Cheng was already waiting at the end of the path, right where the trees began.
"You're up," Peng Cheng said, not turning around.
"Didn't really sleep," Lin Ziao replied.
Peng Cheng gave a small nod. "We won't go too far. Just enough to check the edges."
Before Lin could answer, a voice came from behind the storage hut.
"Don't go without someone who knows the way."
They both turned.
An old man stepped out from the shadows, calm and slow. He wore a gray robe and leaned slightly on a stick. His face was lined with age, but his eyes… there was something strange in them. A faint red glow. Lin Ziao had seen those eyes before. In the crowd. Watching.
"You again," Peng Cheng muttered.
The man dipped his head slightly. "Elder Shan. I kept my name quiet before, but the forest has made it known—I'm needed now."
Lin Ziao frowned. "You were at the altar. Why?"
"I've watched this place longer than you know," Shan said softly. "I saw the glow before it even appeared."
Peng Cheng narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"
"To guide you," Shan replied. "I know what you're walking into."
There was a long pause. Lin Ziao looked at Peng Cheng, who finally gave a small nod.
"Fine. But no tricks. We're not here to play games."
"I don't play," Elder Shan said.
The three of them headed for the trees.
---
They didn't go far into the forest. Just past the edge where the grass started to thin and the air turned quiet. It was enough.
Lin Ziao kept his spear in hand. The forest was... still. Not peaceful—just strangely quiet. Like everything living had gone deeper to hide.
After some time, Peng Cheng stopped beside a wide tree with tangled roots. "We hold here. No need to go further until we understand more."
Elder Shan walked over to the trunk and placed his hand on the bark.
"This tree is older than most of your village," he said softly. "It's been watching longer than any of us."
Lin Ziao looked around. "What's it watching for?"
Elder Shan didn't answer. Instead, he closed his eyes like he was listening.
Then a twig snapped behind them.
Peng Cheng turned, hand flying to his sword.
Out of the bushes tumbled Li Qingshan, hands up, face red. "Wait—wait! Don't stab me!"
"You followed us?" Peng Cheng groaned.
Qingshan gave a sheepish grin. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. I was just curious. I didn't go far. Just—close enough to see."
"You shouldn't be here," Peng Cheng said.
"It's all right," Elder Shan interrupted. "He's already here. No turning back now."
Lin Ziao raised a brow. "That's not comforting."
They all stood there for a moment. The forest around them seemed to lean in, like it was waiting.
Qingshan shifted nervously. "This place feels… off."
"You feel it too," Elder Shan said with a faint smile.
Lin Ziao looked straight at him. "You talk like you're part of this forest."
Elder Shan turned.
He let out a long breath and lowered his hood.
What they saw next made all three of them go quiet.
His skin didn't wrinkle—it cracked, like dried wood. His eyes glowed a deeper red now, steady and alive. His hand, resting on the tree, seemed almost fused to it for a second, as if the bark had reached for him.
Qingshan stumbled back.
Peng Cheng stepped forward, one hand on his sword. "What are you?"
Shan turned his glowing eyes toward them.
"I am a component of the forest," he said quietly. "It breathes through me."
And in the stillness that followed, the forest seemed to breathe too.