Chapter 1: The Weeping Night Forest

A crescent moon had just risen above the treetops, and the ink-black night had swallowed the brightness of day into a pitch-dark canvas. Faint, ethereal moonlight filtered through the shadowy forest, casting a quiet, pale glow below.

The forest was formed by dead trees, likely due to the underground water drying up. These withered trees took on grotesque shapes, resembling people in their death throes, stretching out thin, convulsing claws in a silent scream.

The surroundings were deathly still—no wind, not even the cry of a night bird.

Qing Xuan moved slowly through the labyrinthine poplar forest.

Though tall in stature, he wore ill-fitting cloth garments, and the large bronze sword strapped to his back made his growing frame seem even frailer.

However, the face above his slender neck was strikingly handsome, with refined and well-defined features—unforgettable at first glance.

Traveling through the forest at night was difficult, and he had been wandering in this maze of dead trees for hours.

Realizing he was going in circles had left him anxious, but he could only blame himself for trying to take a shortcut.

Being trapped here was entirely his own doing.

He let out a faint sigh, just about to sit down for a brief rest before continuing his search for a way out, when suddenly—

Not far ahead, emerging from behind a dead tree, was a middle-aged woman in her forties, walking slowly with her head down.

On her back, she carried a large basket, and inside, a young boy slept soundly.

Qing Xuan’s eyes lit up, and he quickly stepped forward.

Bowing respectfully with his hands clasped, he greeted her, “Excuse me, madam, do you happen to know the way out of this forest?”

The woman appeared startled by Qing Xuan’s sudden emergence from the trees.

She froze, mouth agape, for several moments.

Slowly lowering the heavy basket from her back, she scrutinized him carefully from head to toe, her expression filled with doubt.

“Young man, whose family are you from? How did you end up in this forest at such an hour?”

Feeling somewhat embarrassed under her gaze, Qing Xuan rubbed his temple awkwardly with the back of his hand.

“My name is Qing Xuan. I’m heading to West Kunlun. Earlier, at a tea house up ahead, I asked if there was a shortcut. The tea seller told me I could save time by cutting through this forest to reach the next market. But this place is full of dead trees, and it’s hard to tell direction. Once I entered, I got completely lost.”

“Oh, I see.”

The woman glanced down at the sleeping boy in the basket.

In the dim moonlight, her expression was unreadable, but her voice was unusually hoarse.

“Kunlun Mountain… that’s still a long way off. What business do you have there, rushing like this?”

Qing Xuan lowered his head slightly, as if to hide his embarrassment.

“My master sustained internal injuries. I heard there’s a rare Lingzhi Immortal Herb on the Yuzhu peak in West Kunlun, said to be invaluable for nourishing blood and restoring energy. So, I thought I’d try my luck and see if I could find it.”

Though his words painted him as a devoted disciple, a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

Indeed, his main purpose was to find the herb, but there was also… something else he dared not admit.

Some things were better left unsaid.

“You’re truly devoted. Rare, indeed.”

The woman smiled and nodded repeatedly, though her smile carried an undertone difficult to decipher.

“But they say the valley below West Kunlun is the Gate of Hell, where none return. Above it lies the Sacred Realm of Yuqing, where only gods and immortals reside. The Lingzhi Herb likely exists, but not just anyone can go up there to pick it.”

As she spoke, a glimmer of slyness flickered in her eyes.

Qing Xuan, however, didn’t seem to notice this detail. He raised his head confidently.

“That’s all right. As long as I can reach Kunlun Mountain, I’ll find a way up. But honestly, it’s embarrassing—I can’t even find my way out of this forest, let alone climb a mountain.”

“It’s just a temporary setback.”

The woman let out a dry laugh, and strange wrinkles appeared on her forehead, resembling the cracked bark of an ancient tree.

“I must admit, you do have some courage—no wonder you dared to take a shortcut through this forest.”

Hearing this, Qing Xuan frowned slightly, suspicion creeping into his expression.

“Is there something strange about this forest?”

“In my opinion, that tea seller who directed you here had no good intentions.”

The woman tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

Her movements were deliberate, carrying a chilling eeriness.

Even her previously raspy voice now had a sinister edge.

“Didn’t you know? This forest is famous in these parts—it’s called the Weeping Night Forest.”

“The Weeping Night Forest?!”

The ominous name sent chills down Qing Xuan’s spine, and even the boy in the basket, seemingly fast asleep, shivered slightly.

The woman began to pace slowly around Qing Xuan, her smile turning colder as she continued, “They say monsters dwell in this forest, swallowing people whole. Those who are devoured become wandering spirits, their souls trapped here, unable to move on to the afterlife. So, every night when the moon is hidden behind clouds, these restless spirits cry out in agony. That’s how this place earned its name—the Weeping Night Forest.”

As if on cue, the crescent moon hanging in the sky began to disappear behind thick clouds.

Darkness swallowed the forest, and a faint rustling sound filled the air—leaves brushing together in the wind, or perhaps… the faint sobs of lost souls.

The sound sent shivers down Qing Xuan’s spine.

The atmosphere grew colder, and the woman’s shadow seemed to stretch unnaturally long under the dim light.

Qing Xuan forced a dry laugh as he glanced at the moon hidden behind thick clouds and then at the surrounding dead trees, which appeared even more terrifying in the darkness.

He couldn’t help but notice the woman circling him like a predatory beast, her sharp eyes fixed on him.

A chill crept up his spine, but he still tried to maintain his composure.

“You must be joking. If this place truly had man-eating demons and monsters, why would you dare to pass through here with your son on your back? Aren’t you afraid? Besides, who has actually seen such demons with their own eyes?”

The woman shook her head and gently caressed the sleeping boy in the basket on her back.

However, there was no motherly tenderness in her gesture—only the gleam of ravenous hunger, like a predator savoring its prey.

“He’s not my son.” She paused briefly before lifting her face to Qing Xuan, her lips curling into a twisted and eerie smile.

“I haven’t seen a man-eating demon myself, but you… you’ll see one very soon!”

At first, her laugh was faint, almost soundless.

Gradually, it grew louder, sharper, and more deranged.

Her body began to change.

From her sleeves and hem, root-like tendrils sprouted and twisted outward.

Her hair transformed into gnarled, leafless branches.

Her skin began to crack and peel away in chunks, revealing a rough bark-like texture underneath.

Her hunched figure stretched taller as her eerie laughter echoed in the night.

From the gnarled branches of her outstretched claws, enormous flowers bloomed.

In the center of each flower was a face—twisted in agony, glowing faintly green, like ghostly will-o’-the-wisps.

Men, women, the elderly, and children—each face displayed an expression of endless suffering.

Their cries filled the air, blending into a nightmarish chorus that resonated through the forest, turning the moonlight into something cold and menacing.

“So… you are the man-eating demon,” Qing Xuan said, cold sweat trickling down his back.

Though he wasn’t entirely surprised, the horrifying scene before him still left him shaken.

It was a chaotic era, with demons and monsters roaming freely.

Qing Xuan had barely left Dongji three days ago, and already he’d stumbled upon such a creature.

Yet, deep down, he felt a flicker of excitement—this was a rare opportunity to test his courage.

The tree demon let out a chilling laugh, her bark-covered face twisted in a grotesque expression.

“There was a path to heaven, but you chose not to walk it. There was no door to hell, yet you came barging in! Since you’ve delivered yourself right to me, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

Qing Xuan remained calm as he drew the bronze sword from his back.

Though the scabbard looked ancient, the blade underneath gleamed with an icy blue light.

With a flick of his finger, the sword emitted a sound like the mournful cry of a lone phoenix, its edge reflecting moonlight like a chilling autumn river.

Despite the growing fear in his chest, Qing Xuan gripped the sword tightly.

His master had given him this weapon, and though his training had been scattered and inconsistent, he had learned enough from his martial uncles to stand his ground.

He lunged forward, sword slicing through the air.

The silvery light of the blade danced like a dragon, weaving and slashing, forcing the tree demon to retreat under the relentless assault.

Her confidence faltered as the keen edge of the blade pushed her back repeatedly.

But just as Qing Xuan pressed his advantage, a sharp, piercing scream rang out.

The young boy in the basket had woken up and, upon seeing the monstrous tree demon, let out a terrified shriek.

Distracted for a brief moment, Qing Xuan missed a step.

The tree demon seized the opportunity, her tendrils wrapping around his legs, pulling him off balance, and tossing him into the air.

He crashed to the ground with a grunt, the impact leaving him momentarily stunned.

The sword nearly slipped from his grasp, and when he rose again, his attacks were noticeably weaker.

The tree demon noticed his faltering stance and grew bolder.

She lashed out at the boy repeatedly, forcing Qing Xuan to split his attention between fighting and protecting the child.

“I thought you might be a powerful hero, but you’re just an ordinary mortal. Your swordplay might be sharp, but your cultivation is shallow. It won’t save you here!”

The tree demon cackled, her ghastly face contorting into a cruel sneer.

“Such a pretty face you have—fair and delicate. But soon, your flesh will feed my flowers. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure to preserve your handsome face in the finest blossom!”

Qing Xuan ignored her taunts, focusing solely on his strikes, trying desperately to turn the tide.

Just then, a strange mist began to rise in the forest.

It carried an eerie aura, thick with an oppressive presence.

A faint, ethereal voice echoed from the fog, both near and far:

“His face is not something a mere five-hundred-year-old tree demon like you can claim.”

The voice was sharp, cold, and otherworldly, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

Qing Xuan froze for a brief moment, startled by the voice.

The next instant, his sword seemed to come alive, letting out a piercing cry as it slipped from his grasp and shot forward of its own accord.