Dawn broke before long, and Lin Ziao had just finished fighting against the enticing hands of sleep. The forest air was crisp and cold, damp with the scent of leaves and wood. His limbs ached—not just from yesterday's exertion, but from the invisible weight of this place. He stood, stretched, and stumbled toward the stream to splash water on his face, trying to rouse himself fully.
He gazed up at the sky through the dense canopy. Light trickled in like a secret.
"Morning at last," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Behind him, the crude shelter of bent wood and leaves waited—a structure he had built just days ago before killing the beast. He didn't even know what the creature had been. A beast, yes. But not natural. Not entirely. It had eyes like burning coals and bled a dark coloured liquid. Even now, Lin Ziao's mind drifted to its final screech—half human, half something else.
He turned and walked through the opening that served as a door, crouching slightly to enter. The three wounded men lay sprawled on the floor. All of them had been part of a hunting group from a small mountain village called Red Willow, far east of the forest. They had entered this unnamed forest in search of rare pelts and herbs said to be touched by spirit qi. They also came to hunt weak creatures.
Only the elders of Red Billow, Qingshan had revealed in passing, knew what truly haunted this place. The villagers themselves weren't told much. Just warnings. "Don't go too far," they were told. "Stay away from the dark groves."
Calling out softly, Lin Ziao moved to wake them.
"It's time to leave this cursed grove."
He leaned down and lifted the one-eyed hunter, Qingshan—the only one who had spoken to him since the fight. Lin Ziao bore the man's weight on his back, his legs straining under the burden. The others stirred, groaning in pain, but managed to rise with his help.
He led them out of the makeshift hut. The path ahead was unmarked, but Qingshan would help guide them—he'd passed through this part of the forest before, in better times. Lin Ziao asked him to navigate while he focused on keeping them moving.
They hadn't gone far when the air thickened. The oppressive sensation returned—one Lin Ziao had begun to associate with it.
Then the voice came, smooth and eternal, woven into the rustling trees.
"Leaving already, spear boy? I would have wanted to play a bit with you... but I've got that feeling you'll bring better food for me."
Hahahahaha!!
The laughter rang out, unearthly and sharp. Lin Ziao clenched his jaw. The ancient voice had no source, no body. It was a non existent beast that still existed, a presence that didn't belong in this world.
He gritted his teeth, fury simmering under his skin. But he knew he couldn't lash out—not now. His strength was not enough, and he carried a wounded man on his back. He glanced at the others. They were barely holding together.
"Bastard," he muttered under his breath.
Step by step, he moved forward. The weight on his back was immense, but nothing compared to the weight of being watched.
"Wait, spear—" the voice began again, but Lin Ziao cut it off sharply.
"Old bastard, that's not my name," he snapped, voice tight.
The forest seemed to grin.
"You've got bad manners, spear boy. But I just wanted you to leave behind a human for my hounds. They're angry, you know. You killed their youngest brother—the thing with your spear."
Hahahaha!!
Lin Ziao's eyes narrowed.
"No."
"Don't be stingy. Wise humans said, 'Sacrificing one to save a thousand is gain,'" the voice cajoled.
"Who the f*** told you that piece of shit?" Lin Ziao growled, fury flashing.
The earth trembled faintly underfoot. The air turned brittle.
"I'm not your mate, human. Use your words carefully," the voice said now, sharp with warning.
"Did I ever call you youn—" Lin Ziao began, but a sharp Paaah!! cut him off.
The slap came from Qingshan, who was still slung over his back. The slap landed squarely on the back of Lin Ziao's head.
"Stop this crap, kid," Qingshan snapped. "You're playing games with our lives, and you don't even know what realm that thing's in. That beast—whatever it is—probably eats sect leaders for breakfast."
Lin Ziao stumbled slightly, blinking through the sting.
"You think I don't know that?" he muttered, quieter now. The fire that Burnes through the night was instantly quenched as soon as the beast became slightly annoyed.
The voice returned, this time almost soft.
"At least one of you has some sense. Good… good. I'll let you pass today, spear boy. But remember… this forest is deep. And I am always listening. Always."
The pressure in the air lifted—just a little. Lin Ziao took a shaky breath and pushed forward, boots crunching on brittle leaves. The forest did not release them easily, but it did not devour them either.
They moved in silence, broken only by the rustling underfoot and the labored breathing of the injured.
Eventually, the trees thinned, and daylight broke through more freely. The sky above looked like salvation. The birdsong returned—not the mimicry of the forest, but the real thing.
"Next time," Qingshan rasped, "think before you speak. That thing was toying with you. But its patience isn't infinite.
Lin Ziao didn't answer. He couldn't. The words stung with truth.
He had come into this forest alone, thinking to escape the pain of his brother's death. Instead, he had awakened something darker. Something ancient. Something hungry.
He adjusted the spear on his back. It still held remnants of the corrupted beast's blood—dry, crusted, and black. His first kill in this cursed place. But it wouldn't be his last.
For now, they were safe.
But Lin Ziao's steps didn't carry relief. They carried promise.
He would return,
Not as a boy with a spear—but as something the forest would come to fear.
Damnation!!
Now, I have two things on my revenge list!! Lin Ziao realised.