Linle moved through the forest like she was part of it. Her steps never disturbed the moss, never cracked a twig, never sent so much as a leaf spiraling from its branch.
She wove between trunks and ducked under hanging vines with the unconscious grace of a creature born to this place, her vine-tattooed arms brushing against bark in what looked almost like affection.
But the deeper they went, the more Lin Tian noticed the changes.
The air grew heavier. The vibrant green of the canopy started to look... wrong. Patches of leaves had turned a sickly yellow, their edges curling inward like fingers grasping at nothing.
The spiritual energy that had felt so pure and dense at the forest's edge now carried an undertone of something bitter, something rotten.
Linle slowed as they approached a clearing, and her shoulders tightened. She stopped at the edge, her hand resting on the trunk of a massive tree whose bark was split and weeping black sap.
