The wind in West Mountain grew increasingly cold, carrying the scent of rotting wood and damp soil. Ye Chenyu and Li Yueying stepped into a withered forest, the ground littered with dry leaves and brittle branches that crackled underfoot, yet seemed to swallow the weight of each step. The dead trees were dense and twisted, their limbs entwined like a network of veins, forming a strange, impenetrable canopy that blocked out all light.
Ye Chenyu felt the ground shift slightly beneath each step, and the shadows between the trees stretched and twisted into unnatural shapes. He reminded himself to remain calm, though his heartbeat pounded like a war drum. The air was thick with an ancient, oppressive aura, like the whispers of countless trapped souls, sending shivers down his spine.
Suddenly, a low, tearing roar echoed from deep within the forest. Instinctively, Ye Chenyu turned and saw a massive beast leap from between the dead trees. Its body was a terrifying hybrid of lion and tiger, muscular limbs filled with lethal intent. Its claws sank into the soil with heavy thuds, and its head twisted into a grotesque snarl, canine fangs bared, yet eyes flickering with a terrifying mix of human intelligence and madness. Each step it took shook the earth; its growls reverberated like a proclamation of death, as if the entire forest had awakened to its presence.
Ye Chenyu's heart sank—he knew he had encountered an extremely dangerous entity within the Spirit Realm. He instinctively wanted to flee, but the forest seemed alive. Branches writhed slowly, like countless hands seizing his limbs, reshaping themselves into an invisible cage. He could feel the forest compressing and twisting, every step pushing him closer to death.
Li Yueying was a few paces ahead. Her arrows flew in rapid succession, striking the oncoming beast with precision. Yet the creature only hesitated briefly before resuming its relentless advance. Its roars, infused with chaotic energy, echoed through the forest like deep drums, making Ye Chenyu's mind hum and almost letting him hear his own blood rushing through his veins.
Ye Chenyu was forced to weave through the maze of twisted, dead branches. Each step felt precarious. The trees seemed aware of his presence, constantly twisting and extending to block his retreat, tightening the invisible cage around him. He gripped the core fragment tightly. Its faint glow provided momentary resistance against the forest's oppression, but could not fully control the peril before him.
When the beast lunged at him, Ye Chenyu suddenly sidestepped, using a fallen giant tree as leverage to spring away. Mud and dry leaves rose in a cloud of reddish-brown dust. The beast's claws scraped his shoulder, tearing painfully, yet he held his stance and hurried through the gaps in the branches. A primal fear surged through him, each step bringing him closer to the brink of death, while the forest's whispers, the beast's roars, and the rank air combined to weigh down every breath with anxiety.
Li Yueying paused not far ahead, her arrows following like shadows. Her eyes shone with cold light, yet she too could not completely halt the beast's pursuit. Ye Chenyu realized they had no choice but to temporarily separate to survive. He took a deep breath and pressed close to the shadow of a dead tree, moving slowly and cautiously, feeling the branches wriggle again, sealing the path behind him.
As he maneuvered around a cluster of twisted trees, Ye Chenyu suddenly heard a low, teasing laugh, as if emanating from deep within the forest, yet also from the depths of his own mind. The laugh carried a mysterious power, mingling with the shadow and scent of death, sending a chill down his spine. He realized sharply that the laughter did not come from the beast before him—it came from some mysterious presence deep within West Mountain, watching him with cold indifference and contempt, silently observing every intruder who dared enter the Spirit Realm.
Ye Chenyu's heart tightened, a crushing weight pressing down as if a giant stone had fallen upon him. He forced himself to remain calm, stepping carefully through the forest's shifting maze. Each breath was tinged with the scent of soil, blood, and fear. Yet he could not shake the despair brought by that mysterious laughter, as if every step led him further into an unknown abyss, while the forest and the beast wove a deadly net in the shadows.
Finally, Ye Chenyu found a relatively open space amid the mud and dead branches. He stopped, though the low growls of the beast and the shifting sounds of the forest still echoed in his ears. Only one thought filled his mind: the mysteries of West Mountain were far deeper than he had imagined, and he was but a solitary shadow stepping into this Spirit Realm.
All around him, the dead branches seemed to move slowly, resealing the paths, as if reminding Ye Chenyu: in West Mountain, there is no retreat—only forward.