Morning had risen quietly over the village. One of those veiled mornings, where the sun struggled to pierce through the clouds. Mist still clung to the rooftops, to the wild grass, and to the worn stones of the central square. Silence reigned, as if even the forest was holding its breath.
A day had passed since their return. Hei Tian, silent as ever, had risen before dawn. He sat on the flat stone behind Old Chen's house, where the earth still smelled of damp moss and dew.
Yun Lue had come to find him, still full of energy despite the aches from their outing. She handed him a warm bun with a smile, but Hei Tian merely nodded.
"Are you planning to stay here all day?" she asked, sitting beside him.
He didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the distant trees—the very ones they had crossed the day before. Something troubled him, though he couldn't yet say what. A vague sensation, like a breeze brushing the back of the neck.
In the distance, a few farmers were already working the land. Children laughed in the alleys, chasing a one-eyed dog. Everything seemed normal.
But Hei Tian felt something had changed.
The wind stirred gently, lifting a few dead leaves that slipped between Yun Lue's feet. She hugged her knees to her chest.
"You know, Hei Tian…" she said after a moment, "...I like you. Even if you don't talk much."
She quickly looked away, embarrassed by how easily she'd opened up.
Hei Tian turned to her, his expression as calm as ever, but something faint flickered in his gaze—something strangely soft, almost imperceptible. He nodded slowly.
"Hm."
A simple sound, but enough for Yun Lue. Her smile grew, sincere.
Later that morning, Old Chen gathered a few children in the main square. His voice was weary that day, a bit slower than usual. He spoke of the basics of spiritual energy, of natural breath, and the flow of Qi... but Hei Tian barely listened. His eyes were fixed on the sky. A thick haze seemed to be building above the forest.
"The wind's from the east today," he murmured.
No one replied.
In the distance, a dog howled—a sharp, almost frightened wail.
Yun Lue shivered.
Hei Tian narrowed his eyes. It wasn't the air that had changed. It was the silence. Unnatural. Too deep. Too even. Even the wind had stopped.
No rustling leaves. No birds. Just… nothing.
Yun Lue stepped closer, slightly worried.
"Do you feel that?"
He nodded. He didn't know what to say, but something lingered in the air. A scent barely perceptible. Not blood, not rot, not burned wood... but something twisted, as if the air itself had been forced to take another shape.
Old Chen frowned. He raised a hand and called for silence.
"Everyone, go home. Now."
His voice wasn't harsh, but left no room for argument.
The children looked at each other, confused. Yun Lue hesitated, then took Hei Tian's hand.
"Shall we?"
He didn't answer, but followed her.
The sky darkened. The light turned gray. Even the birds fell silent.
A black cloud had formed on the western hill. It didn't move, not really—more like it hung there, suspended… or focused.
This wasn't a storm.
This wasn't natural.
Meanwhile, at the village's edge, a lone figure walked forward. A black robe trailed behind him, slightly torn. At his waist hung a small gray banner, adorned with red threads and black beads. Each bead seemed… to move.
The man walked calmly, a thin smile on his lips
He had finally found a place isolated enough.
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