The faint chirping of insects echoed along the quiet mountain path. It was the hour when the twilight lingered, just before the moon rose.
The blue forest was bathed in an orange glow from the setting sun, the light gradually dimming as darkness prepared to take over.
In this serene forest, Ilcheon Sword walked calmly, his steps measured.
He scanned his surroundings as he moved. There was almost no sign of life. The silence was so profound that it felt unnatural.
Even more unsettling was the subtle, almost imperceptible tension that gnawed at his senses, setting his energy detection on edge.
He raised a hand to rest on the hilt of his sword, drawing steady breaths as he heightened his awareness. For some reason, he felt it was necessary.
âOminous.â
Was it because night was falling? Or was it something about this forest itself?
The forest, pristine and serene, inexplicably exuded a sense of unease.
How could it be so quiet?
The only sound was the faint chirping of insects. There was no cry of animals, not evenâ
âNot even the aura of beasts.â
Every forest carried traces of killing intent, however faint, emanating from the magical creatures that roamed within. Yet here, not even the distinct energy of such beings was present.
Could this be due to excellent regional management? Impossible. Even the main branch or the Shaolin Sect couldnât completely eradicate magical creatures in Henan. Sichuan, with its comparatively weaker forces and broader territory, couldnât possibly be this clean.
Which could only meanâ
âSomething is here.â
Something unknown existed in this area.
Whether it was a formation or a unique environment created by a spiritual artifact, Ilcheon Sword couldnât be certain. But whatever it was, it was enough to keep him on high alert.
He walked cautiously, his senses sharp.
The twilight dimmed, and the sky darkened. Soon, the moon would rise to its peak.
The chirping of the insects grew louder, piercing the stillness.
Finally, after some time, a voice broke the silence.