"He Jin feng once said…"
"That curse demands the heart of a pure demon as its offering."
Jin-feng's voice was calm, yet confusion clouded his features. During that mission, Ling Shan had stood at the very center of the ritual altar, the heart of the formation. By all logic, someone there should have perished as the sacrifice.
"And yet you returned unharmed… Why?"
Ling Shan rose from the massive stone where he had been sitting beside the waterfall behind the bamboo residence. The water crashed steadily against the rocks below, its rhythm almost deliberate, as if trying to drown out the unease between them. They had walked deep into the forest, nearly to its hidden heart. Mist lingered beneath towering trees, drifting like pale spirits reluctant to depart.
"Why do you say such a thing?" Ling Shan asked.
He Jin-feng clicked his tongue softly and shook his head before releasing a long breath.
"If the curse truly required the heart of a pure demon… then the one standing at the altar that night should have been chosen. Not allowed to return without even a trace of demonic corruption."
The words settled heavily in the damp forest air. Within Ling Shan's body, Akin fell silent.
The heart of a pure demon… A demon… pure?
…..
That night, inside the bamboo house, lamplight trembled with each breath of wind. Silence pressed in from all sides, amplifying Jin feng's words until they echoed relentlessly within Ling Shan's mind.
Before He Jin-feng departed for the sect at dawn the following morning, Ling Shan spoke in an even tone.
"May I borrow one of your horses?"
Jin feng paused. "Where would you go, in your current condition?"
"To verify something left unresolved."
He offered no further explanation.
Jin-feng studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I will have a horse prepared for you. A warhorse, docile, enduring. Do not overstrain yourself."
Ling Shan inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Jin feng then pulled a folded map from within his sleeve and pressed it into Ling Shan's hand.
"Take this. And come back."
His gaze drifted toward the forest beyond, shadowed with unspoken sorrow.
"Do not make Xue Rong wait for you any longer."
Ling Shan followed the direction of his eyes and understood.
If he himself did not hold Xue Rong in his heart, Jin-feng surely did. Not merely as a fellow disciple, but with a devotion as deep as one might hold for a cherished younger sister… or perhaps something more he dared not claim.
The forest wind stirred again.
And beneath the calm surface of Ling Shan's expression, a single question continued to burn,,If the altar had demanded the heart of a pure demon…Then whose heart had truly been offered that night?
That night, he prepared only the bare essentials.
He changed into dark traveling robes, tightened the bandages around his wounds with an extra layer, and tied his hair high and neat. His sword rested across his back, its familiar weight steady against his spine.
Before dawn had fully broken, a lone figure stepped out of the bamboo house.
A thin veil of morning mist clung to the earth. A jet-black horse waited beneath the swaying bamboo, breath misting faintly in the chill air. Ling Shan stroked its mane once, gently, then mounted in one fluid motion despite the tight pull of healing wounds beneath the wrappings.
"Baihu Village…" he murmured.
A small settlement beneath the shadow of Mount Sanwu, a place he had once entered as a sub-commander, leading troops in suppression… and leaving something behind.
(There is something I must see with my own eyes.)
The horse's hooves struck the ground in steady rhythm as it surged out of the forest, racing toward the winding road that led to Baihu Village.
Cold wind lashed against his face, sharpening his thoughts. Whatever Ling Shan had done in the past, Akin had resolved to face it himself….And end it.
.....
The path to Baihu Village stretched along the mountainside. Morning fog had yet to lift completely; the scent of damp earth mingled faintly with the smell of burned grass.
The closer he rode to Mount Sanwu, the colder the air became…..unnaturally so. Ling Shan slowed his horse. Baihu Village emerged ahead.
It was far too quiet for a place meant to hold life. Only a handful of villagers crossed the road, each lowering their gaze the moment they noticed his warrior's attire—even though he wore no armor.
Rumors had not died. Nor had memory.
The village felt like a lingering nightmare, ,silent, oppressive, steeped in ash that drifted through the streets like gray snow.
(Elder Chen said… it rained blood here not long ago…)
Akin's gaze swept the surroundings.
(Then why are there still villagers walking about… even if only a few?)
He dismounted and led the horse forward, stepping through thick mist and floating ash toward the center of the settlement.
Ling Shan surveyed the area.
The place felt abandoned, though in truth, perhaps it should have been.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his chilled arms.
"Hey… what do you think?" he muttered to the horse beside him. "Isn't it too quiet here?"
The horse snorted softly, ears flicking back and forth. Ling Shan gave a faint, humorless smile.
"Don't tell me you feel it too."
Akin….within Ling Shan's body…..turned to the horse walking beside him and let out a quiet sigh.
The atmosphere was undeniably eerie, yet the only thing that made him rub his arms was the cold.
"Mm… I should find someone around here and ask what's really going on," he muttered. "Right, my friend?"
The horse flicked an ear but said nothing, of course.
Ling Shan led it calmly along the path. He showed no sign of fear. He had already walked deep into the village and had seen no visible threat.
Then…..
Whoosh.
A strange shadow slipped across his path.
It was so subtle that he failed to notice it at all, swallowed whole by the mist ahead.
But the horse did. It stopped abruptly and let out a sharp, uneasy cry, muscles tensing as though something stood directly before them.
"H….Hey!!"
Ling Shan nearly failed to halt in time. His boots scraped hard against the stone-paved ground as he braced himself, fingers tightening around the reins.
"What is it now? Why are you stopping all of a sudden?" he snapped irritably. "I'm sore all over already, look at my hand!"
He raised the palm that had been gripping the rope and shoved it toward the horse's face in protest.
The horse ignored him completely. It stood frozen, staring straight ahead into the thickening mist. Ling Shan followed its gaze.
(Is the fog thicker than before?)
He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes.
The mist before them had grown unnaturally dense, no longer drifting like morning vapor but rising like a wall. It moved slowly, deliberately, like muted blue smoke beneath the pale wash of moonlight lingering in the sky.
A wall of fog…. Ling Shan lifted his hand and pushed it forward.
His fingers disappeared into the vapor as if sinking into cold water. The air beyond felt heavier.
Colder…..!?.
Then...
A sound drifted through from the other side. Soft…..Broken. A child's crying. The moment it reached his ears, his breath stilled. The sound was familiar. Too familiar.
It echoed faintly behind that shifting wall of mist, as though something, or someone….was weeping just beyond reach. The horse trembled beneath his hand. And for the first time since arriving in Baihu Village, Ling Shan felt something other than cold. He felt watched…..